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With theatre festival season in full swing in Dublin, I have unfortunately not been able to see any theatre this week. Due to the fact of my many jobs and not enough finance, so instead of being a dramaturg this week I became an artist. Not really, but I decided to share my gallery experience, which I call drama-lery, a game I invented years ago.

Below is drama-lery, venturing around a gallery and narrating possible scenarios about the art. Like all dramaturg’s, their duty is to help translate art into real life for a better understanding of their position within the world. Some people have cited that the made up stories below are true, and they would be right…

I have named each piece ‘Art’ and numbered them according to appearance. Excuse the photography, I just became too swept away in the artistic environment, and summersaulted as I was taking the pictures. I give the real name of each piece and the new drama name I have assigned to each one. There is no real rhyme or reason just a strange imagination and spare time, it forces a theatre mind to go slightly wild when it has free time.

ART 1.

REAL TITLE: Spinario, Amorino, Véineas Cromta.
DRAMA TITLE: The Lads.

(Each sculpture is named from left to right, Alan, Bert, and Calvin)

Bert: Time to hit the town lads, we are in for a night of debauchery.

Alan: Be ready now… (looks up at Bert) just have to pick something out of my foot first.

Calvin: What is on your foot, (looks up at Bert), oh yeah I just need to look at the ground dramatically, oh look there is an ant on the ground, how fascinating.

Bert: Come on lads, it is really getting on, it’s like my penis is distracting you or something.

Alan: Man, where is your clothes?

Calvin: We won’t get in anywhere if you are waving your dick around place.

Bert: Won’t we?

(awkward silence)

Bert: You do realise we are all in the nip.

ART 2

REAL TITLE: Mass in a Connemara Cabin
DRAMA TITLE: My first Mass

There are mutters heard throughout the house as the priest enters the room. As he steps up on the chair, I mean the alter, he pauses for a moment.

The priest says the following in his head to himself.

PRIEST: Candles lit, wine is ready, bible at hand, where the fuck is my bible! It’s behind me, need to stop panicking, can’t channel God’s word if I am panicking to fuck.

Sorry lord for swearing.

Everyone seems eager, well dressed, apart from ginger Joe positioning himself for another fart. He should really see someone about that. He would make a warthog wilt with those farts.

Focus you’re a priest.

Sorry Lord for swearing.

Bless yourself, right hand up, not the left that’s the evil hand. Or is it the other way around? Maybe I could just do both at the same time, maybe start a new religious trend. That is Bishop material right there. Father Gerry would have to sit back and give me the Bishop title, he may feed the homeless, but I just thought of a new gesture for mass! Ha!

Sorry Lord for swearing.

Did I swear? Well I am just talking to myself, does it really count as swearing if it is too yourself? Buddhists say you can think what ever you ever you want as long as you don’t act on those thoughts.

You are a Catholic, get it together!

Sorry Lord for shite-ing on.

ART 3

REAL TITLE: A Family.
DRAMA TITLE: A Family

(In a futuristic/ absurdist style of theatre)

Bang, clap. I drag the grey covers off my incredibly long neck.

Squish, blurt. My body is awake to a new grey day. With my old grey family.

Where are the clothes?

We don’t have clothes because that is societies method of corporal prisons.

My elongated necked husband is not keen on leaving the prisons behind and slumps his head in despair.

That is not despair you are awakened. You are welcome.

Clothes will not define me, he will not define me.

WHERE IS MY COFFEE.

The holy grail of capitalism, and the best cure for this hangover.

I am hungover on life not liquor .

You are liquor. You over there little human.

Bark, clap, slap, boom.

Little innocent, little human.

Where did you come from, uranus? My anus.

Well not my anus, although that probably would of been easier.

Bang, ouch. You have a giant head.

Arghh, no. Mammary gland parasite.

Blup, slup, may have gone too far.

Blap blap, slap, pap.

Fine, time for work.

ART 4

REAL TITLE: Parody of Raphael’s School of Athens
DRAMA TITLE: Dick’s Head of the Society

Stage note: No one will be named, the voices will be assigned according to the spectator. And there is not enough middle aged white male names on this planet for this painting. The context of the dialogue makes it easy to assume which voice is associated with each character.

-Playing my flute, what a lark. Look at me larking.

-That is some sized hat. You could fit my whole belly in that hat. Can I buy it from you?
-Why thank you, and no.

-Karate chop into the crotch. Out of my way you human giraffe. I need to press my giant cuffs.
-Oh sweet, sweet man, you can at least ask me out for dinner first.

-(drunkenly) where did those steps come from. What idiot put those steps there. This is why I never come to these parties, because (hiccup) yeah. No one will listen to me. When I find my leg you are all dead. Might just take a nap here.

-Someone get him up, he will leave a stain on the ground he is so dirty. How undignified.
-Look a dog! He looks like my wig in the morning.
-What is the point.
-Ha, now the dog is sniffing the other dog’s bum.
-I hate you.
-(laughing) Now there is another dog.

–Singing, Sitting in the chair, without a care, then a hear a squirrel.
-That is a terrible song, all you are doing is dramatic rhyming.
–Singing, You are just jealous because all of my…
-You won’t be able to think of anything that rhymes with jealous.
-Yes I can.
-Go on.
-…Nelous.
-That isn’t a word.
-It could be.

-I just wanted one decent night in, that is all I wanted and all I end up in a room with puke and dog hair. Where did the dogs even come from? I will just sit here and wait for it to end, while judging everyone over my oddly shaped glasses. Someone has stained my table cloth! This is too far. They will all pay, now I will not just judge but ignorantly grunt and sigh at everyone in a passive aggressive tone that cannot be ignored.

-Flute, look at me larking!
-Just because you say flute doesn’t mean you are playing the flute.
-You are just jealous because my flute is bigger than your flute.

Silence

– My flute is eight inches.

Silence

– Just saying.

ART 5

REAL TITLE: The Conjuror
DRAMA TITLE: Brian May: The Real Story

Brian May and his friendly owl spend days on end thinking about years gone by, not when he was in Queen but when he was a wizard.

No one believes Brian because people are conceited and can’t see past his wild matted hair and beard, and he does not make matters better for himself by carrying a giant stick, that he has named his wand.

Brian tirelessly tries to convince his little grandson (or grand daughter, she is a very neutral looking character in this piece), about his wonderful days of being a wizard. Full of cauldrons, potions, and when stunning coats were in a abundance. Only Brian will know of the magic he possesses, the emotional electricity that runs through your body when a spell has been complete to perfection. Unless you are a badger, he has told all the badgers, even shouted it to them down into their dens.

I guess we will never know.

Brian: (to the little girl) You keep on missing it you little shit!

_____________________________________________________________________________

And that was drama-lery, if you are stuck for money and entertainment why not try it at home. Well you couldn’t really try it at home that was just a slip of a colloquialism there, you would definitely need a gallery for this activity.

Apologies again for the photography, I was trying to take the pictures on the sly even though there wasn’t a flash on my phone, therefore I couldn’t hurt the picture or the picture’s soul. Do you hear me security man from the second floor, I DIDN’T HURT THE PICTURE.

Or better still this is Art depicting Art.

Thank you for reading these words and pictures.

All rights reserved to Katie Poushpom, k.e.poushpom

One of my pastimes is reading the dictionary. This came from my own difficulty with the English language. I was dreadful at it in school and found it extremely overwhelming, everyone seemed to be so erudite with the English language. Then I decided to complete a degree that fully challenged this fear, I remember thinking on my first day of college, ‘did I apply to this course when I was drunk?’. I began to subsume myself in anything and everything relating to academic writing. And one weepy night in the library I discovered a literary dictionary. My professor at the time told our class ‘get a literary dictionary it will be one of the most used items you invest in for this course’. Unfortunately I was busy feeling sorry for myself and probably would have saved myself a lot more time if I had listened to him in that moment. When I delved into this glorious dictionary it was incredibly empowering, the words were at my disposable, they weren’t linguistic ninjas trying to nunchuck me into little stupid pieces, they were to be utilised not feared. From this experience I began to create a new exercise for playwrighting.

I began writing a vade mecum, this means ‘a manual or handbook carried for frequent and regular reference, (translated from Latin, ‘go with me’). With this, I began to read what I found to be the hardest form reading. From the Anthology to Literary Theory to Stephen Hawking’s The Universe in a Nutshell. As I read I would extrapolate as many words, theories and terms as possible that I found complex and challenging and then create a story from them.

To many this may seem silly, but through this process it gave me an extra tool for creative writing and playwrighting. For many playwrights may come to a dead end and struggle to finish a scene or create an adequate and appropriate ending. I short struggling with thoughts that are at the tip of your pen but not on the page. What may be useful is writing isolated stories or what I call Turbo Plays. Ones that are simply based on one word. Here is an example…

WORD- RUBRIC

1. Initial thought- Rubik’s cube (initial thought relates to your immediate superficial response when you see the word).
2. Appearance- Rounded letters, good symmetry, apart from the letter ‘i’.
Actual translation (Oxford English Dictionary)- noun, 1. A heading on a document.
* A category
2. A set of instructions or rules.
* A direction in a liturgical book as to how a
church service should be conducted.
* A statement of purpose or function.

Now those three points are your whole story, your Turbo play. Now give yourself 10 minutes to write the whole thing. It may look similar to the example below.

Abigail entered the symmetrical building with the goal to solving the rubik’s cube. But was rudely interrupted by a man who looked like a human ‘I’. He was badgering her about the disgraceful heading on a document he had just witnessed. How could a document be so awfully constructed, particularly one that was meant to outline the church service in the local supermarket. Abigail did not enjoy this set of instructions and rules he was discussing on the headed document. And proceeded to kill him with her rubik’s cube in a statement of purpose or some can say function.
THE END.

As you can see the story does not make a lot of sense, but I have started and finished the story with the intent to involve already established ideas. The purpose of Turbo Stories is to create new synapses of creativity, in a very short amount of time. There is no clear logic or linkage, all you need to know is to write it in 10 minutes, involve all of the aspects of the word from the three points, to start and finish the small story and/or you can make it into a small play. There is some similar writing techniques out there, which I didn’t really enjoy mostly because it reminded me of the gravity of a lot of writing deadlines that were creeping up on me. This version forces you out of the ordinary and into extraordinary linguistic obscurity. A reminder not to feel threatened by writing, and to simplify it for yourself, venturing into the world of the weird and the wonderful.

Hope this odd exercise benefits you in some way. If not make up your own one and tell me about it.

All rights are reserved to Katie Poushpom, k.e.cleary. ©

THEATRE BOUND©

An Inquisitive exploration of the artistic and practical mechanics within theatre.

Working back and fourth from Dublin to London made me think about certain issues that face theatre in both cities. To this end I then decided to create a series of practical challenges, rooted in and challenging the issues that many theatres and theatre makers are facing today in the current theatrical landscape. It seemed redundant for me to write up analysis or reports about work being produced because there already exists substantial and useful articles that are being published everyday. My aim is to instead create realistic and somewhat obscure challenges that further ventures to answer issues within the theatre industry. The hope is that in posing new questions, new alternatives will be created.

Theatre Bound is a project based on investigating and challenging everything that happens in theatre. It is a five part series, the first in this series is Time versus the Playwright which will be followed by Dollamine Adaptions ©. The other three parts in this series will be left a mystery for now. This is because it may compromise the outcome of the other projects.

Time versus the Playwright.

For many playwrights, established or up and coming, the creative process with relation to time in general is sometimes not a harmonious relationship. Many playwrights can identify with the sleepless nights wondering ‘where did that week go?’ or ‘how will I write a good play by Friday’.

While I was working in London last summer I read about many competitions and festivals that gave playwrights the opportunity to write a play in 48 hours or 24 hours, and after those hours, it would go directly into production. Which creatively for a playwright may not be the most useful writing task or is it?

For the challenge Time versus the Playwright, I am challenging myself to write a 40 minute play in one car journey that starts in Dublin and ends in Cork. As everyone knows that isn’t the longest drive in the world so to give myself a bit more time I am going to stop off in Sligo first and pay a visit to W.B. Yeats grave for a bit of inspiration and then to rebel city of Cork. Therefore I will drive 3 hours and 6 minutes to Sligo, with a 30-minute break, and then 4 hours and 30 minutes to Cork. Altogether I will have seven and half-hours to write a 40 minute play. There are specific rules that I must follow during this challenge, which are the following…

1. I have to be in the car the whole time when writing the play. I cannot use any of my lunch or food breaks to write the play.
2. I cannot write any of the play if I am outside of the car.
3. Obviously I can’t write and drive, that would be insane. So I will have my assistant in the passenger seat taking down what I am saying. He/she will have little to no playwrighting experience.
4. To make it even more interesting I cannot do any prep before hand. I have to develop, create and finish the whole play in the car.
5. Everything will be recorded on three cameras, two that will be placed in the car and one that will be free to carry around to record my movements when I’m out of the car to make sure I do not break any rules.
6. By the end of the car journey I will send the (hopefully) complete play into a theatre in Cork where it will be reviewed. It most definitely won’t be the best play I have written but it will be very interesting to find out how it will be received. The person who is reviewing the play cannot be anyone with any knowledge of my previous work so their reaction will be totally organic with no prior judgements.
7. Any money made will go to a local charity in Cork. I will pay an additional €10 for every rule inadvertently broken.

Obviously this play needs to be reviewed from by a viable source, Julie Kelleher has kindly agreed to review the play when I arrive in Cork. Therefore the play will be written in the car on the 23rd of October and reviewed on the 24th of October. *Please note Julie Kelleher is taking this on from a personal interest only, the project is in no way affiliated with the Everyman Theatre.

By the end of the project I will hopefully achieve a deeper insight into how creativity operates when under constricted time constraints. This will most likely be achieved through many cups of coffee and a few panic attacks. Nonetheless, it will be an interesting experience with a lot of camera footage that may not present a viable play but certainly an entertaining story.

This is a non-profit project all proceeds will go to a charity that will be chosen for each challenge. This project is about putting theatre practitioners to the forefront, if there is an organization or play on that could use some funding please email me at the address below. For more information please contact Katie Poushpom at info@theatrebound.com

All rights are reserved to Katie Poushpom. ©

I found this picture on the google machine, and it makes me laugh on so many levels. Dramaturg gone mad!