ArtsLab Shopfront's artists in residence



Rather desperately evading eye contact with nervousness, I’ve neglected to notice the appearance, be it slightly haggard, of the twin lizard excitement: hello there. I say lizard because both nervousness and excitement crawl into sunny spots, are scaly to touch, have strong internal architecture and little padding. Here are some pics from the Work in Progress showing, (photos curtesy of the brilliant Pollyanna Nowicki). A small wooo before returning to practicalities should not provoke either lizard too much.

The Work in Progress was an odd time for me, I was showing material that was in a pretty raw state, technically and conceptually, and I felt correspondingly raw. I’m getting my mind around the fact that – as Yana Taylor, our dramaturgy mentor, keeps reminding us – we’re there to give some sort of experience to the audience. I tend to ignore that, I often create for the fairly oblique reason that there’s stuff in the air that says hello to me that doesn’t actually exist but feels like it does. But behind that there is usually something that’s trying to communicated, not just exist. I think it’s finally filtering my consciousness the entire point of having a residency where you show things weekly. The joys and fears associated with exposure of fairly raw material aside, you’ve got to know how what you’re doing is impacting the people seeing it. Over the next few weeks leading up to the season I’m going to have some friends come by and see drafted versions of the piece just to get used to opening up the space to people other than the beautiful group we have here.

It’s an interesting thing, I’m finding if I think about this when I’m on the floor I get thoroughly lost. It’s like you have to know exactly what you want and then entirely forget it and just make stuff and hope and forgive yourself when it doesn’t turn out how you want it to. So, back to the floor.

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