More highlights than a Coatbridge hen night

With tonight the last night of the festival, I thought it worth posting a few of the weekend’s highlights. Bear in mind that this is limited to what technology will allow (see Thursday’s post detailing my elaborate camera storage facilities and you’ll understand what you’re dealing working with here).

The Venus Labyrinth has been getting some amazing reviews – in the Herald and The Scotsman – but also from the public who have been posting their comments on the Facebook event. What I like about it most is that it has been a huge undertaking for all involved, and yet the intimate nature of the women’s performances isn’t lost. As soon as you enter her room, you are, mentally, a million miles away from anything and anyone else, and a step closer to your own thoughts. Very powerful.

The Conflux Maximus parade also went really well, and I was genuinely elated with the number of people who followed it right to the Arches and stayed for the Highlights event.

After listening back to a few video clips I finally found one where you can hear the performers rather than a 14-year-old girl, apparently called April, gleefully shouting a mouthful of expletives behind them. It turned out fine – what April didn’t seem to realise is that, after appearing in public dressed as a kind of transvestite Roman emporer with a 5 o’clock shadow in a pair of bright red crocs (surely the most embarrassing part?), some mild abuse from a 14-year-old is not going to phase anyone. These guys can give as good as they get, believe me. A proper Roman theatrical showdown if you ever saw one.

The huge crowd of kids seemed to love the gladiator battle (which ended when Innocence – a woman dressed as a baby – had her dummy victoriously knocked out of her mouth by a caveman-esque Brawn) and didn’t even seem too perturbed by the arrival of three perfomers from The Tide Machine – the performance-installation at Broomielaw Quay by Oceanallover. In fact, the only person who seems slightly perturbed is the guy in the background in the yellow t-shirt.

It had the beautiful effect of reminding me that the Arches, as a venue, means something very different for a lot of people, and if events like this can open it up as something even more eclectic and prolific then that can only be a good thing. As I was walking away I heard a man say to his two young sons, ‘Did you like that? Wasn’t that fun!’ They didn’t answer him, but continued staring back at the entrance to the Arches, their faces shadowed by the hulk of the Heileman’s Umbrella, their small worlds having clearly grown that little bit larger.

It’s the last chance to see Red Bastard and experience the Cabaret Club nights tonight, so I hope you make it down if you haven’t already.

Rosie x

Pyrotechnics and exploding popcorn

Probably one of the worst videos I’ve ever taken there.

Notice how I put this text UNDERNEATH the video. Hopefully you’ll already have watched it, and so this won’t put you off, depending on how big your screen is and how short your attention span is – if you’re anything like me you’ll have already skipped to the end of this post. Actually, you’ve probably not even opened it in the first place after refusing to wait more than 0.2 nanoseconds for it to load, so hopefully, I’m only talking to people unafflicted with ADD here.

To be fair, I got the video after someone grabbed me at work whilst on the way to do something, and said The Chain was starting that minute. I had my camera in my bag in its trusty pink trainer sock (the receiver of many a disgusted look as it exchanges hands. It’s CLEAN, dammit) so I ran down and set up in front of the impromptu stage next to an official-looking photographer.

The feeling of generalised insecurity that comes with carrying around a tiny Flip camera in an old sock usually stops me from standing at the back with the big guns, and their array of  heavy cameras, tripods, and those sticks with furry bits on. You wouldn’t park your Morris Minor next to a Porche without at least a small pang of inferiority. Especially not it said Morris Minor was ensconsed in a pink trainer sock from Tesco (8-14 years).

So yes, anyway, I ‘set up’ (read: extracted camera from sock) next to this girl, and started filming. Two minutes later, I had no idea what was going on – the photographer woman (an actor, it turns out) had done a kind of rolling jump into the side of me, I’d gone sprawling across the floor, felt the sensation of a large quantity of water land on my head, then felt a sudden blast of heat and light as the pyrotechnics went off. At which point it happened all over again.

It took about four repetitions for me to realise what was going on, and then a further ten mintues to recover from that horrible post-stress embarrassment when you realise your initial reaction was completely disproportionate to what’s just happened, everyone’s clocked your panicky yelp, and made a mental note never to be next to you in an emergency.

The performance was the result of a week of masterclasses with Richard Stamp (from dotComedy). He can explain the idea behind it better than I can, and I managed to keep the camera still for this one, so, enjoy…

 
For those of you who were concerned, the sock is now dry and making a full recovery in the sub-tropical climes of the Arches marketing office.

Rosie x

The aliens have landed, and they’re happy to pose

The cast of Used To Be Slime get dressed for Glasgow's press

On Friday I attended the press photo call for Used to be Slime – where I tried my best to look professional and look like I knew what I was doing, but unfortunately my equipment made me look a little under prepared – compared to the pros.

A nice camera. I.e, not mine.

Whilst dodging the professionals – getting the inside scoop on how these ‘shoots’ work – I started pondering what separates those in front and those behind. Having an extremely snap-happy mum I am always on the look out for household objects to duck behind but she always finds a way! Yet, the majority of performer friends I know are the complete opposite and the cast was no different, using this opportunity to show how flexible/strong/comical they were.

Bendy.

Some would call this the ‘look at me’ syndrome, but I find that rather too negative. Yes, sometimes it can be a little overbearing, but isn’t this why we pay to see actors, performers, dancers, and circus clowns in the first? And good for them – they are brave enough to put themselves out there and be judged.

Kelly x

Used To Be Slime: the aliens have landed.

The Country Incarnate

With Country Incarnate Anna Henson takes you on a journey through land and sea and demonstrates how the steps of life and death blend and merge into one another through the kaleidoscopic effect of her projections.

Picture two screens upon which symmetrical scenes are projected; it is as if two mirrors have been placed at right angles and the two sets of images reflect identically. Henson’s installation has multiple effects upon the viewer’s eye. The folding images trick the eye into merging the two screens into one so that two adjacent trees morph into an Elk-like figure with a gaping mouth. Hands and feet multiple and spread across the screens like butterfly wings as if sprouting from the middle of one large screen instead of two.

What is striking about the installation is that there is constant movement. Like the beads and glass particles of a kaleidoscope the images of Country Incarnate twist and turn, a body, hands, feet, hair are constant in their tapping, swishing, swaying. An ocean and gold sand merges into a blue rippling quilt and swaying blonde hair. Even within the journey of trains, water and sand the pauses are moving.

Anna Henson is a graduate of Glasgow School of Art and an interdisciplinary artist that works with video, live production and theatre design. As part of the Surge Festival Anna presents her latest video installation Country Incarnate.

 I caught up with Anna at the Arches for a dialogue on her creation…

Ceri: Watching Country Incarnate was like being taken on a journey…

Anna: Yes absolutely, it is about a journey. It is split into two concepts, what happens to the mind and the reality of the body. The video flits between two worlds, the outside world which are the physical locations such as the train and beach and the inward world represented by the woman in her bedroom.

Ceri: How did Country Incarnate come about?
Anna: It came out of two very different periods of travelling: one a short term trip, and the other the four years I have spent living abroad. In this video, I was meditating on trying to identify where I was, both in terms of physical location and in terms of being an American and in a culture that is not yours. The film was shot while traveling in Spain and Italy, and also in my bedroom in Glasgow.

Ceri: How do you think your work will translate to your audience members?

Anna: I think it is relevant to anyone that has travelled; anyone that has taken a journey, and anyone that has tried to read maps. While it came from my personal experience of Scotland and other European locations, I think that the installation translates into a universal message for those who have found themselves in a foreign place, unfamiliar surroundings. This video explores the geographical country, the physical body, the mental space of the individual, and the ways in which these three things oppose and assimilate one another.

Ceri: Do you find that questions of identity tend to arise once you have left home?

Anna: That’s true! Now that I’ve been away from home for four years I’ve learnt that my roots do affect the way I am. My sense of identity as related to my ‘American-ness’ has become more obvious to me than it was when I was living in America, but I have also found that this sense of identity can be translated to fit in with another culture.

Ceri: Do you foresee yourself expanding this work?

Anna: Yes, I have tons more footage to play with. I love multi-screen installations; I envisage creating a whole room, essentially a 360 degree video. You can call it a total immersive video!

As I watched Henson’s work, I found myself reflecting how life is a series of movements which blend into one another. I found myself drawing comparisons with Cunningham’s novel The Hours, and how both of these works cause you to zoom in on details with microscopic intensity. The title I found curious. I turned to my colleague Rob Mullen and asked him, ‘Why Country Incarnate?’ And he astutely replied, ‘We are born out of the earth, die and return to it’.

 

By Ceri Restrick, an Arches review for Surge Blog 20th July 2010