ArtsLab Shopfront's artists in residence

All play and no work


It’s 7:30pm. October 29th.
I’m freaking out.

Things have been stressful. I built a tree, then it fell over. Now it’s chilling outside waiting to be dismantled and thrown away. I’m saving that task for after the show, because when I get really frustrated I like to kick it.

In constructing my play I have broken my left pinky finger, sliced through my left ring finger and burnt the pads of my left index finger and thumb.

I have bruises all over my legs and I’m not sure how I got them.

For a while there I stopped showering because I knew I’d just come back to the theatre the next day and be covered in plaster/pva/paint once more.

I’m going mad.
I was watching TV and I suddenly felt a pang of anxiety. Why? The scene was in a park. There were trees. I’m making trees. Are my trees the best? Will my trees work? Will my whole show work? Are people going to enjoy it like I hope?
Madness.

But the craziest thing? I’m finished. I’ve got pretty¬†much all my stuff organised. Made, rehearsed. I’m on schedual. I’m exactly where I need to be. Probably even ahead of where I need to be. I’ve got nothing to stress over. I have TIME. Actual real world time. Time to fill with nothing and it’s freaking me out. I need to be going, doing, making, building, planning. How can I possibly be this organised? It must be some sort of trick of the mind and I’ll discover that I’ve actually forgotten the most important thing of all.

I’m blogging now. Because it feels like I’m working in some way.
Tomorrow maybe I’ll mop my space again.

One Response

  1. Yve Blake says:

    Ava you are a queen.