In Development: The Maeve Brennan Project directed by Annabelle Comyn (Hatch Theatre Company)
@Project Arts Centre Oct 6 2011 (Ulster Bank Dublin Theatre Festival)

Thursday afternoon in the Project Art Centre’s Space Upstairs provided a glimpse of a work in progress: an as-yet-untitled play exploring the work and life of the Irish writer Maeve Brennan. Emma Donoghue (writer) and Annabelle Comyn (director) were on hand to discuss the ongoing development of the piece and what attracted them to the story of this extraordinary woman and to her brilliant, unusual, fragmented mind.

Maeve Brennan, photographed by Karl Bissinger

Maeve Brennan was born in Dublin in 1917 to fierce and fearless Republican parents and experienced a chaotic childhood due to their political activity. Still, it led the family to Washington D.C. and Maeve to a university education, which culminated in a remarkable writing career. There was a strange disconnect between her life as she lived it as a beautiful, charming, assured woman writer in New York city, and her inner world, shaped by memories of her fractured Irish childhood. Her writing is rife with strained relationships, the tension between characters humming like a generator in the background. It is this disconnect, amongst other things, that Donoghue and Comyn seek to investigate in the play.

To their credit, they resist the temptation to focus on the more romantic elements of Brennan’s biography – daughter of revolutionary parents, physically stunning, mentally ill, ultimately destitute – eschewing these lurid details in favour of a more nuanced analysis of her self-generated identity.

Having creators/writers talk in this way, about the trigger that sparked the initial idea and the process that fed the flame, can be as fascinating as many a finished production, and all the more precious for being so rare. A five-piece ensemble that appear onstage to enact a few snippets of the play as it exists so far. They’re very engaging, even while reading from scripts, and it’s enthralling to see each character emerging, partially formed, like an unfinished sculpture.

 

The piece is a co-production between HATCH Theatre Company, Landmark Productions, and Ulster Bank Dublin Theatre Festival.

In case you missed Project CATALYST participants The Company at Project Arts Centre on October 7, discussing their work-in-progress Politik, here’s a brief interview with The Company member Nyree Yergainharsian. (Some of you may have caught Nyree’s solo show, Where Do I Start? during ABSOLUT Fringe.)

Nyree on a poster for a previous production by The Company

Q. From what I can gather, Politik seems to be an investigation into the Irish people’s sense of disillusionment when it comes to politics; is that an accurate summary? 
Nyree: Yes, I would say that is fairly accurate. It all started with our sense of disconnection and lack of understanding when it came to the political system. The subject came up during the time of the last general election and we were shocked at how little we really knew about it all. As well as that, we found that our level of participation in the whole system was very weak. And so we started to wonder why that was and if the rest of our generation felt the same. We knew that more young people were getting involved because, during times of crisis, there seems to be a shift in society and a push towards opening our eyes really wide to see the bigger picture. We, The Company, are now trying to delve into our own personal politics as well as the political system to really understand how we are and are not involved, both consciously and unconsciously, in the way this country is run.


It strikes me as a subject that would particularly tricky to address through theatre…People are probably more used to having these questions dealt with in rather dry scenarios, like televised debates or whatever. Was it challenging to find new ways to engage the audience with the subject?
To be honest, the reason why there is a lack of involvement and a lack of participation in the political system is partly due to this exact issue. The appeal of and accessibility to the whole thing is not so inspiring at the moment. Maybe theatre, a medium that has the ability to really communicate to people, is the best way to go. It has been the most difficult project we have made together, but I have never learned more about myself, my role and my contribution than ever before. This could be a really important project that we feel needs to be made.


Did you (personally or as a group) reach any conclusions about Irish politics? Do you think you’re more politically aware now, or was it something you were already invested in? 
We started off by knowing little to nothing. We moved to knowing a bit more. Became disillusioned and frustrated. Then realised we will never be able to change the world, which was slightly disappointing :) But now that I know more, personally it has not inspired me to get really involved. I think if we really want to make a change, we need to start with what’s within arms reach-our local community.




As mentioned, the show is still in development, so it’s not decided yet when or where Politik will debut. You can catch up with Nyree and the rest of The Company on Facebook or visit their website to keep tabs on what they’re up to. In a supportive way, that is. Don’t be creepy.

 

Read the three finalists entries below and vote for next season’s My_Project Blogger in our poll in the right hand corner. Whoever gets the most votes wins. Good luck to all the finalists!!

 

 

 

Thomas Nashe

About Thomas

I’m a writer/actor/director. Having studied English Lit, History of Art and Philosophy my interests are broad to say the least. The main reason I apply to this blogger competition is my friends told me to, which is really to give them some peace from my waxings, though they won’t admit that.

I don’t get to see enough theatre, especially of the kind I prefer: experimental, collaborative, and yoghurt-like. And I love to talk about it after, to digest it verbally.

Review: The Speckled Play

And here I am, like a school boy down the back of the bus, relieved to be seated watching others undergo the ordeal of eyes at the opening night of the Gate’s The Speckled People. The world première of the author’s adaptation of his own ‘extraordinary work’ and the Gate’s offering for the theatre festival.

Now, I could go on about the conflict of cultures, identity, and other thematic elements, and I have copious notes on set design, props, staging etc which I intended to lavish lovingly on you, setting the scene and what not, but, forget it.

There was a cast of nine, and one elephant. The elephant was having a grown man, and not a particularly youthful one, play a boy. Picture it: a man, some what of a five o clock shadow, being caressed and cared for by his thirty something mother! The mind gets the narrative, the dramaturgic device, but the unconscious is reeling and recoiling from the stimuli. I’m not asking for a seven year old, but would a thirteen or fourteen year old not have been a little more convincing? Yes yes: I understand the needs from the writing perspective as the character of ‘Hanni’ is the main narrator and therefore carries the play in many ways. But surely, dramaturgically, structurally it was an error.

So aside from the elephant, they speak in English but are supposed to be speaking in German, or is it Irish? When Mrs Hamilton speaks to the shopkeeper her English takes a German accent, meant to mean she is now not speaking in German, which is English, but is speaking in English with a German accent. Clear? Good. For when young Hanni is asked by an aunt, on his father’s side, who refuses to indulge her brother’s Irish fetish, what did he get for Christmas he then answers in syntactically backward English with a strong accent, meaning he is now attempting to speak English and the English he has spoke to us all along has been German, or is it Irish? Confused? So was I.

A little more thought into extracting a ‘play’ from the novel rather than trying to dramatise the novel would have been a safer option. But then, that would have required a playwright… The fact is nothing works in it, and doesn’t because without dramatic conflict everything else is simply ‘stuff’ as the Elizabethans would say. Commendable effort by the actors, but when you’re in a sow’s ear you are, and no amount of acting will change that.

I don’t care. Make it rough, make it clumsy, make anything but please make it something dramatic.

This is a cash cow for the Gate during the festival when fans of the book will surge and cluck towards it and, lest you think it, come away satisfied. They relive the joy of reading the book. I have not read the book, but after the ‘play’ it seems to me a middle class Angela’s Ashes, and is tonally reminiscent of Barry at his worst.

Go see it, just for the elephant.

Tiebreaker: Modern art is like yoghurt – it is good for you, but tastes bad going down.

You may not like it, but in the end it’s good for you, as anything truly transformative in the arts is. It has to break the mould and mould breakers are never popular with the vast majority.

Yet I beg to differ. Who says it tastes bad? There are others who, like masochists and pain, enjoy that ‘bad’ taste so that bad comes full circle and is considered ‘good’.

And as for the digestive metaphor, I know some who love the taste but cannot stomach yoghurt. Some will always have an intolerance no matter how much they like the taste.

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Catherine Dennehy

About Catherine:

My name is Catherine and I would love the chance to be a blogger for the Project Arts Centre. I’ve had a long-time love affair with the arts, stretching back to when I starting treading the boards of my local theatre as a little kid. I enjoy all things art, music, comedy and theatre. I’m a journalism student and writing is a major passion of mine so being able to write about the things I enjoy most would be an amazing opportunity; to see and meet those behind the scenes, and help spread the word of the world of culture and entertainment on our doorsteps.

 

 

Review: Juno and the Paycock.

Staging a dramatic return

Juno and the Paycock is back on the Abbey stage

Abbey Theatre, September 2011

Directed by: Howard Davis

As exciting as it is to witness new work, there is something very satisfying about seeing an Irish classic, particularly when it is staged in the same settings as its very first performance. On Monday, March 3rd, 1924, Sean O’Casey’s tragedy in three parts, Juno and The Paycock, was unveiled to audiences and now, almost 90 years later it returns again to the Abbey Theatre.

 

The second in O’Casey’s ‘Dublin Trilogy’, the play tells the story of the Boyle family, juggling the life of the Irish working class, the influence of the Catholic Church, the ever-present reliance on alcohol, all in the aftermath of the 1916 Rising.

 

As soon as light filled the stage, I felt like I was dragged into the bleak living conditions and intoxicating pessimism of 1920’s Ireland. Tall ceilings, flaking wallpaper and heavy, bare furniture filled the wonderfully authentic set. Hunkering characters came alive and thick Dublin accents burst from them.

‘Captain’ Jack Boyle (Ciarán Hinds) and his wife Juno (Sinéad Cusack) live with their two children, Mary (Clare Dunne) and Johnny (Ronan Rafferty). Juno’s daily routine involves constant attempts to get Jack to work, with his unwillingness to do anything except loitering in the ‘snug’ with pal and drinking buddy, Joxer Daly (Risteárd Cooper), proving a challenge.

 

Luckily for Jack, it seems as though his family’s worries are over when a relative leaves a considerable inheritance to him. Caught up in the glamour of their promised riches, Juno and Jack begin to live a life of luxury before their new perfect life begins to crumble. Although dealing with some of the darker sides of life, such as violence in Ireland, alcoholism, and the harsh views of extramarital sex, humour and tragedy is married seamlessly and the audience can go from holding in tears to laughing aloud in a matter of minutes.

 

Ciarán Hinds steals attention in many scenes with his delightfully warm portrayal of the jovial, yet hopeless ‘Captain’ Jack. He is convincing as the happy-go-lucky joker of the piece right through to Jack’s descent into solitude. Along with Risteárd Cooper and his “darlin’” catch phrase, the pair make a charming comedy duo.

Clare Dunne’s performance as love-struck Mary and Sinead Cusack as the ever-suffering Juno are both heartfelt. The once-strong mother and daughter are broken down as the story unfolds and both actresses beautifully display the heart-breaking trials they have to endure.

An excellent ensemble cast, beautiful set and timeless dialogue, Juno and The Paycock is a stylish, emotionally charged version of a classic. Humour is weaved delicately through the dark themes. Pride, shame and violence are traits that still speak to us today. As ‘Captain’ Jack himself says: “Th’ whole worl’s in a terrible state ochassis

Tiebreaker: Modern Art is like yoghurt – it’s good for you but tastes bad going down

Modern Art is like that carton of natural yoghurt sitting in a shelf of your fridge. You got it because you felt like you should, that you should behave yourself and steer away from the sugary, chocolate flavored ones.

 

The thing with natural yoghurt is that while we might not want to glug it down on its own, we use it when making so many other things. We have a taste for it without even realising. Modern art is something we enjowithout even knowing it ourselves

 

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. Francis Wasser

 

About Francis:

I am a practising artist based in Dublin currently studying a MFA at the National College of Art and Design. I wish to take part in this project to further develop my writing and research methodologies. I believe that the review acts as a rendering of liminal territories that form between all parties within the arts. The review is the space between the audience and the event, the artists and the venue, reception and criticism. The review is a platform to further forge the necessity of engaged critical thinking within our many cultures. If selected I will utilise the blog to help make visible the vibrancy of activities, people and events that make the Project Arts Centre everything that it is, an essential arts centre in the heart of dublin with its doors open to all.

 

Review:

A Review of Liam Gillick’s A Game of War Structure at Imma, running now -October 31st 2011

I asked Liam Gillick in the toilets of Imma ‘How did Guy de bord die?’ to which he replied ‘Well, that’s an interesting question you know, because he never really did die.’ It is not widely known that Guy de bord of the Situationist Internationale(SI) met his demise by his own hand. De Bord shot himself in the heart at his property in Champot, France , on November 30, 1994. Gillick continued by saying that over lunch with several theorists he had prompted De bord’s death but no interest was expressed in this troubling fact. The conversation continued from the sinks across the courtyard to the bar. The topic of conversation was Simon Critchley’s 2008 book ‘The book of dead philosophers’. Critchley’s text centres on philosophy and the fundamental problems of our society globally. Citing Seneca ‘He will live badly who does not know how to die well.’ Critchley declares that ‘to philosophise is to learn how to die’.

A Game of War Structure, a new work by Liam Gillick is a configuration of Guy de bords 1977 war game ‘the kriegspiel’ translated as a ‘game of war’. De bords inspiration for the game came from 18th century french military theory. The game is played over 500 squares of 20 by 25. The objective is to destroy the opposition by either eliminating your opponents forces or deactivating their arsenals. The first move in chess is often considered as an immediate advantage. This game differs from chess in that each of the two players begin the game by placing their pieces wherever they want to.There are three boards placed around the courtyard of Imma and the pieces and instruction manual are obtained by handing over government identification at the main reception.

Games can take time. Gillick has never produced a piece like this before however throughout the duration of the game certain formal aspects of the work become apparent. The height of the board results in leaning on it as you would lean on the counter at a bank or a fast-food restaurant. The slick finish of the board has an effect as such that it feels that the game is a negotiation of something that is actually at stake be it a mortgage or collecting the dole. Gillicks milieu is ever present, furthermore it is a functioning construct but by no means a metaphor.

De bord produced the game at the age of 46, a decade after the events of May 68 of which he and the SI played a pivotal role in.One can imagine De bord sitting down after all is said and done, in a similar manner to duchamp dedicating his later life to the playing of chess. It is in this that Gillick’s passing comments on Critchley seem to fit. Notably, Gillick is also the same age now that De bord was when he set up his game company.

A Game of War Structure is a refreshing installation counterpointing the over saturated and needlessly metaphorical narratives, objects, situations and events currently running around Dublin…specifically.

Tie Breaker: “Modern Art is like yoghurt – it’s good for you but tastes bad going down”

I am not in favour of metaphor, this one in particular I find immensely problematic. Who wrote this? That said, I’ll go along with it. So Imagine me saying all of the below in a highly sarcastic accent, not that I am a fan of sarcasm:Modern Art may have been like yogurt in so far that it came in so many different flavours, if it is not well refrigerated it goes off and curds, and every now again you prepare yourself for the taste of chocolate and have to deal with the criminal texture of hazelnut….yuk.

It’s open rehearsal night at a practice room in the TEAM building in Marlborough Place, tucked down an alley somewhere in that little pocket of Dublin near the Spire that seems to be teeming with theatres and studios and rehearsal spaces. Right about now, as ABSOLUT Fringe is gearing up, this jumble of old and new buildings is home to dozens of writers, actors, dancers, designers, visual artists, choreographers, producers and composers, slipping in and out, more or less unnoticed, like neurotic rabbits in a vast warren. In the middle of all this mostly invisible activity there’s a room, and in the middle of the room sits Neil Martin Watkins.

 

Neil has a confession to make.

 

The show is called The Year of Magical Wanking, which should give you an idea of what you’re in for, and it’s one of the highlights of this year’s ABSOLUT Fringe festival. It’s directed by Phillip McMahon, and produced by Jenny Jennings and Lara Hickey of  Thisispopbaby (currently part of Project Catalyst). It is road movie and tell-all autobiography and social satire all nailed to the same cross and it’s starting this weekend (preview show Friday September 9th).

a magical year

Neil Watkins' Year of Magical Wanking

The things Neil reveals range from touchingly sweet to eye-wateringly raw – confessions you thought you were ready for, but you’re not. There’s a piercing self-awareness throughout, and an unnerving commitment to the truth, or what feels like truth; like a Lucien Freud painting, no one comes out of this looking good. But likewise, it’s intensely powerful. The writing is lyrical, often beautiful, elegaic and witty. It has to be. There has to be some artistic merit to this kind of merciless confession, otherwise there’d be no difference between this hideous vulnerability and any other wince-inducing self-exposure, like a weirdo in a trenchcoat flashing kids in the park. The rhyme (the whole show is written in iambic pentameter) adds another comforting degree of distance, giving the whole piece a flow and an elegance that still doesn’t disguise the content any more than lipstick disguises the existence of a mouth.

 

The show follows Neil as he confronts personal demons and thoughts of suicide, indulges in messianic delusions, and grapples with his various addictions – sex, drugs and variants thereof. Anecdotes, vignettes, snippets of childhood memories and vivid sexual fantasies are stitched together into a Portrait of the Artist, right down to the internal battles with his alter-ego and drag persona, Heidi Konnt. You get a sense of how incredibly difficult this kind of brutal honesty must be to sustain, as Neil switches tack to make sure the audience doesn’t get too comfortable. Despite the sordid nature of the material, despite the melancholia and the squalor, Neil is immensely likable, which is an effect that he has to puncture to heighten the impact of the show. He is not in it to win your sympathy, because that wouldn’t be truthful. Through Heidi, he presents his shocking revelations through an unsympathetic character, and you see, perhaps, how he really sees himself.

 

There’s only time for a few questions, so I ask Neil if he finds it difficult to return again and again to the place he needs to be in psychologically for the show to work. “Well, the writing and the performance of it are different things,” he says. In fact, the show’s been written for long enough (it was first performed at Project Arts Centre last year) that he can treat it as he would any other script, and actually enjoy, as an actor, the challenge of rediscovering the work anew every time it’s performed. “It’s been really different every time.” Watching him rehearse, seeing him deliver a section of monologue twice but in two completely different ways, he seems to be enjoying it enormously. Reading the script, you mightn’t imagine the verse left much room to manoeuver, but with inflection, body language and timing alone Neil manages to completely alter the atmosphere of any given line. “You have to leave yourself open to instinct,” he says simply. “Transcend ego and intellect and go into a place where you’re free to make a fool of yourself.”

 

The Year of Magical Wanking is showing in Project Art Centre’s Space Upstairs from Saturday 10th – Saturday 17th September 2011. There’s a video teaser here and you can book tickets via the ABSOLUT Fringe website.

 

 

 

 

 

I had the pleasure and the privilege of talking to the members of fledgling theatre company The Children this week about their show Does Anybody Ever, appearing at The Players Theatre from September 12-17th as part of ABSOLUT Fringe.

The Children: (L-R) Stephen, Neil, Sophie and Gemma

The Children are Sophie Meehan, Stephen Lehane, Gemma Collins and Neil Douglas, who met and developed as writers and performers at Dublin Youth Theatre. Does Anybody Ever was conceived and written by Sophie, who initally presented the show as part of DYT’s Members One Act Festival (MOAF) in September 2010. Although each individual was occupied with staging their own production for the festival, they encouraged and supported one another and cast one another in their shows and the relationships evolved so naturally that forming a theatre company seemed the logical next step. Do they remember exactly when they made the decision? “Friday 13th,” is the immediate reply. “Which is a bit weird,” admits Stephen.

Sophie had been toying with the idea of submitting the play for ABSOLUT Fringe, encouraged by the support of their peers at THEATREClub, with whom they had collaborated on earlier projects. The others readily agreed to come on board. Given the warm reception the show had already received in its earlier incarnation, and the support network of their many contacts and DYT behind them, submitting to Fringe “wasn’t a really intimidating thing to go into,” says Sophie.

The Children are so-named because, as Stephen explains, they’re one of the youngest theatre companies in the country and they might as well acknowledge it. It began as an affectionate teasing nickname given to them by THEATREClub, but it stuck because people are interested in new theatre by young, up-and-coming performers so why not use it as a selling point?

It doesn’t take long to figure out that, despite the name, the ideas that concern the group are mature and developed. If it’s possible to identify common interests that unite the group, it might be discernible in the work they were making separately before The Children was officially formed. For the aforementioned Members One Act Festival, Neil and Gemma worked together on a show called Get Off The Phone, I Need To Use The Internet, which Gemma summarises as “being mostly about fear”. Stephen’s show, 1992, involved “dealing with grief”, he says. The soft-spoken but very articulate Sophie described the basic premise of Does Anybody Ever as being an exploration of the “heightened relationships” that develop when people are thrown together in a confined space.

The play revolves around three adult-sized kids who may or may not be related by blood, but are family nonetheless. They cohabit in a bleak space that they have tried to make homely, in the way that children might try to make an impenetrable fortress out of sofa cushions. In this self-contained, claustrophobic environment with no reference frame for normal behaviour beyond the reality they invent, they play games. As anyone who grew up with siblings knows, games can be deadly serious and no one knows better how to push your buttons than the ones who love you most. The audience bring their own perceptions of what constitutes reality, fantasy or delusion to the table, so the atmosphere teeters from the comical to the sinister as one tries to figure out whether what’s unfolding is childish play or psychological warfare. There are of course, echoes of Jean Cocteau’s Les Enfants Terribles but also any Enid Blyton-esque children’s story. You know, the stuff about pixies and morality that made total sense when you were a kid, with its strange combination of absurdity and gravitas, but on re-reading as an adult makes you feel like you’re on acid.

Does Anybody Ever promo

Does Anybody Ever by The Children

I spent a long time talking with the group about the issues that interest them (from mental health to Deaf culture) and it’s clear that while they work very well as a group, they all have unique interests, which surely bodes well for the future of the company, as it keeps things fresh. As Neil puts it, “the kind of show I’d make, for example, would be very different to the kind of show Steve would make, or that Sophie would make.” Is that ever a cause for friction? “Nah, we’ve learned to compromise,” laughs Gemma.

For more info on the show and booking, see the ABSOLUT Fringe website here.

I was fortunate enough to be invited to a press event this week by the ABSOLUT Fringe team, where I got to meet with a few of the artists behind some of the shows that will be staged over this year’s festival. (Full programme here.)

 

Bird with Boy by Junk Ensemble @ Kilmainham Gaol, Inchicore Rd., Dublin 8 from Monday September 12th (preview) to Tuesday September 20th, excluding Sunday.  All shows at 7.30pm.  Tickets e14/12 (e10 preview).

Corokinesis: The 2nd Experimental Evensong by Tom Lane in association with Folded Productions @ Christ Church Cathedral, Saturday September 24th at 5pm. Free admission, no tickets required.

 

Bird With Boy by Junk Ensemble

Bird With Boy. Photo via JunkEnsemble.com

Junk Ensemble is a dance company founded by Jessica Kennedy and Megan Kennedy in 2004, with the stated aim of “creating works of unconventional and accessible dance theatre”. They have a strong interest in involving young people in the arts, as performers and as viewers; their combined experience includes teaching classes, holding workshops and directing dance companies for young people in Ireland and beyond. For this particular project, Bird With Boy, they are collaborating once more with Joanne Timmins, who directed their 2007 show Rain Party (produced in association with Project Arts Centre). Jo is based in Scotland, where she is director and producer of Lyra Theatre company in Edinburgh. She, too, has long been involved in children’s theatre. As she puts it, “I work with young people and make work for them”. I don’t know why this struck me as unusual. Of course youth theatre is tremendously important – and you couldn’t throw a brick in Temple Bar without hitting a DYT alumnus – but I feel as though I rarely hear someone articulate this.

Anyway, Bird With Boy will debut in the unusual setting of a subterranean room in Kilmainham gaol (beside IMMA). It’s dark, it’s dank, there’s very little in the way of creature comforts or even quotidian necessities like electrical sockets. “It’s basically a dungeon,” admits Tom Lane, who is composing the music for the show. It’s a site-specific work: this unlikely space is very much integral to the piece and visual designers David Fagan and Valerie Reid have been enlisted to shape the aesthetic of the show, which is a multimedia installation as much as anything else.

I asked Tom about his experience designing the music, curious as to what kind of sound would lend itself best to this unique and creepy setting. The show is intentionally and perhaps necessarily low-fi (given the limited technical resources down in the crypt basement), and pretty much any kind of  music, however sparse or textured, would in that context end up sounding a bit sinister. “Quite eerie,” Tom agrees. The show’s venue affects the music; did the music, once introduced, affect the nature of the show? “It might have changed the atmosphere a little,” Tom concedes, “but the actual content hasn’t changed.”

The content, however, remains a bit mysterious. No one’s giving anything away. Jo prefers not to be too explicit about the ideas behind the work; she doesn’t want to try and force a particular response from an audience; it’s simply important that they recognise some “feeling behind the movements.” The analogy she uses is that to narrow your view of what the work might convey is to resemble “a fire exit sign: it can only mean one thing,” whereas the story she and her young cast hope to communicate is open to broader interpretation. As it should be, really. If you only want to say one thing and say it clearly, you rent a billboard, you don’t devise a complex theatrical production.

The promotional blurb for the show describes it as “a piece about things that end before they should.” If you want to find out more, come and see for yourself at Kilmainham Gaol, Inchicore Road, September 12th – 20th 2011 (except Sun 18th). For a flavour of Junk Ensemble’s previous work, here’s an incredible promo video from their show Five Ways to Drown, from last year’s Dublin Dance Festival.

 

Experimental Evensong 2

Corokinesis @ Christ Church. Photo via Fringefest.com

 

Meanwhile, Tom Lane is also involved in another, more personal project happening at Christ Church Cathedral. It’s called Corokinesis: The Second Experimental Evensong. As the name implies, this is the second time he’s conducting this experimental re-imagining of a religious service: the first outing was this time last year, also under the banner of ABSOLUT Fringe. ‘Corokinesis’ (choir + movement) is a term coined by Tom, and refers to the fact that this year, besides the vocals by Christ Church Choir (of which Tom is a member) there will also be a dance element to the performance. Choreography is by Laura Murphy and Ailish Claffey of Folded Productions, with whom Tom has worked before.

If you don’t know what you’re in for, it might help to think of Evensong as basically a mass where almost everything is sung, and this show as being like a live cover version. Tom very patiently tried to explain the nature of the ceremony itself to me (a seriously lapsed, practically prolapsed Catholic). Evensong is an Anglican tradition, but its roots are in certain Roman Catholic services (vespers and compline) that were originally sung daily by monks in monasteries. These were later stitched together into a one “Evening Prayer” service, which is meant as a general celebration of the miracle of Christ’s incarnation on Earth. It was a good move, is the theme.

Further research tells me that two particular songs are always sung during Evensong, and I’ll share them here because I think they’re interesting. One is the Magnificat, the words the Virgin Mary supposedly sang when she was informed of her ground-breaking pregnancy. Now, I’ve always imagined that would have been a really awkward moment. One of my favourite pieces of Christian art is this Renaissance painting by Simone Martini, called The Angel and the Annunciation, just for Mary’s body language and facial expression.

The churlish Virgin

"You've got to be kidding me."

But according to the Magnificat, she was in fact totally on board and delighted by the honour, referring to herself modestly as a lowly handmaiden and declaring that her “spirit hath rejoiced” in the whole idea.

The second recurring Evensong fixture is a hymn from the perspective of an elderly Jew called Simeon who had been promised by the Holy Ghost that he would live long enough to lay eyes on the Christchild. This promise was fulfilled when Simeon found himself present at the temple where Mary and Joseph brought the baby Jesus to be blessed, whereupon Simeon gave a short speech to God declaring his willingness to die now that everything seemed in order. This hymn is called the Nunc Dimittis (essentially, Can I Go Now.)

 

Having said all that, I don’t know if these old staples will still make the cut in Tom Lane’s latest re-interpretation of the service, or what form they’ll take if they do, but I think the essence of these stories – the poignancy of one ordinary human being’s experience of being a tiny part of this vast, unimaginable tapestry of events – will still resonate with anyone attending the performance. If you’ve ever seen or been part of a choir, you’ll appreciate how any single voice is quickly engulfed in a tide of sound that somehow seems much bigger than you would have thought possible – greater than the sum of its parts, as it were. If you missed last year’s event, as I did, there’s a short video here on Tom’s website of the Magnificat as it appeared in that first grand experiment. The sound of so many human voices swelling like a storm surge to fill that cavernous space is exhilarating and also, frankly, chilling. Almost enough to make one find religion.

 

Corokinesis: The 2nd Experimental Evensong is happening one night only, at 5pm on September 24th in Christ Church. Admission is free and it is again open to all, regardless of religious persuasion.

 

 

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