Peta Brady- Strands - INTERVIEWS

Peta Brady

Written by Paul Andrew

Monday, 12 December 2011 06:45

Peta Brady is a writer and actor, who most recently appeared at La Mama in Angus Cerini’s Save For Crying, earlier in 2011. She works for the Salvation Army and as a mobile health alcohol and drug safety outreach worker on weekends. Her first play, Status Update, received two Green Room nominations: Best New Writing for the Melbourne Stage, and Best Female Performer. Her latest work, Strands, was one of four projects to receive funding from the R.E Ross Trust Award in 2011. Peta tell me a potted history of your writer/ actor background? I guess it started in high school where I wrote a few scenes for the school production and they were received quite well. I went off to study to be an actor, studied performing arts at Ballarat Uni, did a lot of telly, worked for several theatre companies and have come full circle to write. Do you have a vivid memory of reading a certain playwright that lingers? I have memories of discovering Caryl Churchill, Sarah Kane and closer to home Patricia Cornelius. The joy of reading great plays by strong honest unafraid women was exciting. Later I was to work on a few of Patricia’s pieces as an actor and I guess the luxury of working with great material sets the bar as a writer. I wanted to know what women of this century were writing. I wasn’t so much into Shakespeare and Chekhov and all the other dead men we were studying. Although brilliant, not what I wanted to snuggle up and fill my head with. I guess I was in search of roles and stories filled with people I could relate to. Where were all the women? And on that note I was quite taken by Medea early on in my readings. What did this inspire or challenge you with at the time, what did it evoke for you? Medea – strength, revenge, beautiful language. I haven’t read it for a long time but it was a female role I played in year 12 and carried her around for a while. Lily and May was an early favorite by Patricia – about two old bag ladies, I was and am still too young to play either role but there was something in the language and the relationship between the two characters which challenged and excited me. It seemed different to other plays I was studying/reading at the time. They were gruff and funny and real. It is quite empowering to do your own work, to be able to practice your art without the permission from others. I do love working on other peoples work though and highlights of that are Patricia Cornelius's Love and Angus Cerini's Save for Crying – these are the works I aspire to. These are the writers I enjoy to speak to as an actor and would aspire to write like. Your work for the Salvation Army and as an outreach work, this care work must provide your inner writer with incredible true life narratives, characters, turns of phrase and events to draw upon? I have been working here for about ten years or more – it allows me to eat and keep the lights on. I am more than lucky to get to work with the community in this role and I do get to see, share a lot of brokenness that is addiction and homelessness and cycles of abuse and poverty etc. I guess the upside to this is it does feed my work, the downside to it is you can become quite numb to anything if you see it often enough. Finding the humanity amongst it is the key – it’s not all about what appears to be going on. On reflection, something of the concepts, themes or motifs being revealed to you now in your writing? I want to write great female roles. I’m interested in staying true to what I see around me and not filling them with just beautiful unbroken perfect people. Or what we have been trained to see as beautiful, I am interested in the chinks, the little imperfections. I want to work with great actors who don’t necessarily get the big gigs coz their teeth might be wonky or whatever. I want to see more black, fat, gay, nasty, skinny, rashed-up and real people grace our stages and speak honestly about what they see and feel. Strands is an evocative and bodily word – how did you arrive at this as the final title? This little story stemmed from reading about the wood of a violin and how over the years it had changed. How it is a different wood, from trees grown in a different atmosphere and how things such as pollution have affected the tone of the instrument and then I read something on the affects of Fetal Alcohol Syndrome and the two ideas started to marry. I know, I gotta get out more. At least buy some less heavy readin’ material. But something started the writing and I think it was about how things just don’t grow well in poor soil. Be it plant or person. And whilst this piece turned out to be about neither of those things the strands remain. I was enchanted by your reading at Cube during the Melbourne Festival this year – the human frailty of two siblings, how did this festival reading help or hinder your final writing process? It’s always good to read something allowed and have a bit of feedback – at that stage I wasn’t finished with the script and by the way of feedback you get to hear what themes resonate with the listener. What they heard, hooked onto on that night I had a couple of middle-aged social workers approach me eagerly about the work, they said the language was very real to them and that they were quite moved. It’s nice to know it’s not just your take on things and you may be heading in the right direction. I remember feeling at the time there was a thread of deep melancholy throughout each of the readings that night, new works by writers like Angus, Lally and Declan – what are your feelings about the event in hindsight? I must be comfy with melancholy. I didn’t get depressed I was far too excited to be surrounded by some of my favorite writers and reading my work out alongside them. You get a whole different perspective writing. As an actor you can be quite removed from the process but as the writer performer you have had all the ingredients and have stripped it back to your own recipe. So you know what could have gone in, where things come from etc. I don’t know if this makes you a better actor I haven’t decided. Status Update, another two-hander, grabbed my attention with your slippery witty gender play – gender bending and role play – having not seen Strands as yet, and at the risk of sounding utterly foolish, I wonder if this gender fluid theme is teased out in the sister's character's perhaps? I have always been gender challenged, played cricket for an all boys team from 12-18 (the only girl) so I was always called "balls" or "butch" or something and this made me question what that was all about. Why the boys were so doubly annoyed if they were bowled out by "the chick" or just started bowling at my head coz I wasn’t a boy. I played for Victoria so there were a few bowled out whingers. I do like to mess with gender, but I don’t really mess with it in this particular piece. Agency – coming to terms with one's agency even in a time of brokenness – feels like an important theme being explored in your work, is this true? I like it. I guess this is true. I know I do steer towards the broken characters. I guess the others can look out for themselves. Strands by Peta Brady is currently playing at La Mama Theatre, Carlton until December 18, 2011.

Sydney Dance Company- Dancer Charmene Yap - INTERVIEWS

Charmene Yap

Written by Paul Andrew

Sunday, 30 October 2011 11:19

Charmene Yap has worked with the Sydney Dance Company since January 2010 and recently performed in the Sydney season of Rafael Bonachela's The Land of Yes & The Land of No. She is a graduate of the Western Australian Academy of Performing Arts completing a Bachelor of Arts in Dance in 2006 and has worked as a freelance dancer for various choreographers and companies around Australia and internationally. Charmene was nominated for the prestigious world-wide Rolex Mentor and Protégé Arts Initiative Award and has been a successful applicant for the 2009/10 SCOPE program to expand her interest in architecture. Charmene Yap spoke to Australian Stage's Paul Andrew. Charmene, The Land of Yes & The Land of No, it's such an evocative title for a work – what does this name evoke for you? The title evokes a dual side to people and also how we deal with others. It represents the idea that there are two – or more – sides to everything and often a negative and a positive, each of which you can interpret into a human response. The overall work comes from Rafael’s fascination with signage – for example, street signs and directions. We are all told what to do and where to go multiple times every day. Each of the segments in The Land of Yes & the Land of No relates to a specific example of this. The title, however, has a more evocative and emotional element to it. Tell me about a memorable performance? Absolutely, it was opening night at the Brisbane Festival – the first time I performed the work. I have a solo that opens the show and it was an amazing feeling to finally be on stage after an intensive rehearsal period. Ezio Bosco's score – what in particular do you feel this score teases from deep inside your body as you dance? A lot of Ezio’s music is emotive – he creates work that touches the soul. Some of it is recorded sound, from a market place for example, which is mixed with instrumental music, which I feel humanizes the music even more. It taps into the human emotions. What do you feel is the primary concept is behind the work? The Land of Yes and the Land of No is a deep exploration into the human psyche, the power of imagination and the body’s ability to give physical shape to memory, experience and emotions. This work begins with your solo? My solo was initially created by our Dance Director, Amy Hollingsworth (who performed it in the original version of the production). It is a very personal solo to her and I’ve had to insert my own emotion into to it. Hopefully translating it in a unique way! Tell me about what you feel is the most inspirational aspect to this work, how so, why so? The work is clean and pulled back which means it allows each us to personalise our performance. From a dancer's perspective can you tell me something about one key aspect of the lighting design for this production that you adore? At the beginning I’m in total darkness, then the light flickers on and I enter in silence. It’s atmospheric and spine tingling! Which costume do you enjoy dancing in the most? In The Land of Yes & the Land of No, for the first time ever, I’m in pants! It’s so comfortable. www.sydneydancecompany.com Image credits:– Charmene Yap. Wendell Levi Teodoro @ ZEDUCE

BLACK DICE- INTERVIEWS

BLACK DICE

Written by Paul Andrew

Monday, 10 October 2011 19:37

Cult indie trio, Black Dice have been at the forefront of experimental rock and 'noise art' for over a decade. Currently in Australia as part of the 2011 Melbourne Festival, band member Aaron Warren talks to Australian Stage's Paul Andrew. Black Dice – dark chance – tell me the story behind the band's name? Well I was not in the band at the time but legend has it that Hisham, the old drummer from the band, had seen the words grafitti'd on the wall and that it was an old NY street gang. Everyone thought that sounded pretty tough, so that was that. An earlier incarnation of the band was called Spit On Your Corpse, I believe. For the benefit of Australian readers new to Black Dice, tell me something memorable for you guys about the band's formation? I joined the band in 1999 in NYC. Post-providence. But the shows were still pretty wild. I had to learn how to play twice as fast as I'd ever played and would as often be beaten down by Eric as I would by the crowd. I once had a footprint on my back after a show! The question of chance – the Dada noise attack days with Wolf Eyes – tell me a little about this dada time too, and if chance/collage continues to play a vital role? BD is into writing songs. We have aspects of improv in that we get loose on the songs live and jam out a bit, but any collage aspects are written into the songs at the beginning. We are open to chance and happy accidents, but try to get these elements under control in the practice space when we're making up the songs. The line up for the Melbourne gig, who, and on what instruments or devices? Its me and Eric on electronics and microphone, and Bjorn on guitar and electronics Who do you count as your major influences now – and more importantly who do you count as the minor influences? Personally I feel most influenced by the DIY hardcore and indy bands of the 90s – Nation Of Ulysses, Unwound, VSS, Bikini Kill, Born Against, Antioch Arrow. Bands that toured and put out great records with grassroots support by kids in small towns nationwide. The DFA label days, more tribal, more dancey – what remains the most memorable song from this time – why it lingers in your consciousness? I like Cone Toaster, though the version that made it to vinyl was never as good as the live version. We retired the tune at this huge outdoor festival in France in 2004 – that was the version I wish was on the record! Who are you listening to now? These days I am listening to much of what kids across the world are listening to: Kanye West, Black Lips, Kurt Vile, Gang Gang Dance. I love the internet music culture of today – you can literally think of any band and be listening to them within seconds.

Byron Perry- INTERVIEWS

Written by Paul Andrew

Saturday, 08 October 2011 08:23

Award winning dancer and choreographer, Byron Perry was recently appointed as the Melbourne Festival's inaugural Harold Mitchell Foundation Fellow. His first work for the Festival, Double Think, a rhetorical examination of the illusion of opposition, opens next week at the Arts House, North Melbourne. Byron Perry spoke to Australian Stage's Paul Andrew. Is the world of Double Think – like Orwell's classic novel – a dystopia dressed in utopian clothing? Not exactly, no I am not really attempting to analyse the notion of Double Think in relation to the original context from which it sprang or even to apply this concept to our lives in an attempt to illuminate something about the human condition or to explain the struggles and psychology of modern life. The work is concerned only with Double Think as an abstract thought experiment or a discrete psychological condition. I am attempting to look at the performance itself through this lens of contrast, contradiction and opposition, the idea of the performance as the individual in the throes of Double Think. I like the idea that this notion can be applied on as many levels as possible, to the structure and style of the work itself, to the scenes and the dance/text within it and also to the performers understanding of what they are doing. The political and social references are instantly very clear with a topic like this, but those connections are not what I am interested in presenting in the work – I will leave that to Orwell. I feel like many people have examined the idea of Double Think within a social or political framework and that making a dance work along the same lines wouldn’t address anything that hasn’t already been better explained on paper. As I said what I am trying to examine however is the notion of this psychological condition through the structure and machinations of the performance alone. I feel it is important to explore this concept without reference to anything outside of the performance environment, as I feel like any topical or social reference within such an abstract work will carry more weight than it deserves. It could very easily seem that the work is somehow about this reference rather than about the interrogation of the subject at hand. And is the image of 'the state' in Double Think also a controlling one, one of constant war, mind control, surveillance? Double Think as a performance work doesn’t deal with the broader themes examined in 1984. The work is very singular in its focus, which is how the notion of Double Think might exist on stage – in dance – separated from its context. The term Double Think entered the vernacular after Orwell's 1949 book became a best seller, simply put it means to know and not know. Tell me about your sense of Double Think today? The original inspiration came from an article I read titled ‘The illusion of Opposites’. Through some further reading I became interested in the idea that essentially opposites share more traits in common than ones that separate them, that in a sense they are simply two distant points on the same line. I began thinking about opposing beliefs in this way and remembered there being something about this idea in the book 1984’so I read it again and became interested in the notion of Double Think and how it might exist in a performance environment. Double Think is defined as the ability to believe two opposing or mutually exclusive ideas at the same time, drawing subconsciously on whichever one most benefits the individual in the moment. This led me to explore references to things like the Heisenberg uncertainty principal that limit our observations of subatomic particles to either position or momentum but never both at the same time. Initially the term Double Think seems to have negative connotations, but it could be a rather unique gift. The notion that you might be unconsciously deciding what you believe based on who you are talking to and what you want out of a situation seemed quite different from just flat out lying or playing devils advocate. It also struck me as a subconscious act that each of us might well be doing in subtle ways every day. Opinions are normally considered so concrete and I like the idea that it’s quite possible we don’t really know what we think or that we are not in control of things as we feel we are. I notice the references to a 'shifting world of dark and light', shadow and illumination, sounds almost Gnostic, a mystical work too perhaps – aside from the 'abstract' Orwellian parallels tell me in some detail about your other literary, cinematic or choreographic sources of inspiration for Double Think? I have been reading some writing by Magritte on his investigations on Object vs Image. I particularly like the series of small ink drawings he produced on this subject for their simplicity. I have also been reading on the Heisenberg uncertainty principal and quantum entanglement, I would like to think that one day these notions might go some way to illuminating questions of the mind. The short films of David Lynch and Chris Cunningham were something that I was watching around the time of our initial seed development. The shifting dreamlike scenes and states of Lynch’s work has always been of interest to me, particularly the way he presents his work and the awkwardness and uncertainty it provokes in me when I view it. Chris Cunningham is inspiring, more for his style of editing, which in his hands becomes a sublime choreography in its own right, no matter the subject of his film. The work I have tried to create is quite minimal and stripped back in terms of presentation. I wanted a work that feels like its oscillating or phasing between states. Small vs big, black vs white, slow vs fast, light vs shadow, learned vs improvised. The set design was based initially around the units of ten counting rods that I used to learn counting and basic mathematics when I was in primary school. For me they are a metaphor for the way that we tend to divide our space and our time, combine ideas and tackle problems. The word block itself is used both as a description of the unit used to create, and an explanation of why we are having trouble creating.  Light and sound become the 'the beloved', tell me something of your enthusiasm for light and sound as forms of embodiment and character Byron? I have become very interested in developing work where the performers have the ability to effect and control their own lighting and/or sound and that the orchestration of these supposedly ‘supporting’ elements can become a kind of choreography in its own right. It sounds like I am describing a sort of puppetry of objects, and in a way I think I am but that’s only part of it. In order to develop this kind of work it is essential that you have these elements in the room with you as you are developing the material. I am always thinking of how something will be lit as I am choreographing and often a lighting idea will be the catalyst for a scene and not simply a way to present it. I think that in this work and with this concept especially; the sound, light and set can really become as much a part of the investigation as the dance or text is. We are dealing with an abstract concept but one that is directly linked with universal themes of opposition and duality so it can be applied to almost every part of the performance environment. I like the way that localized performer operated lighting can create methods onstage that are akin to things like the close up, point of view and zoom techniques used in film. Also for me traditional theatre lighting has trouble snapping to or from black instantly, there is always a fade up or down involved albeit a small one; by developing my own lighting techniques for onstage use I can get the best of both worlds. We often use the expression 'play of light' or 'trick of light' to explain something mysterious or unexplicable – is this something you consider in Double Think? Yes, but in quite a dry and almost scientific way. The work presents light and the absence of it as an intrinsic part of the study of this concept of Double Think. The work doesn’t utilise theatrical trickery in the sense of traditional ‘illusions’ but light is considered, choreographed and arranged in much the same way that the performers bodies are. One tall man, one short woman – it’s such a fabulous image and metaphor for the incongruities in relationships, tell me about two examples of the way your choreography develops this metaphor a little further? I am not dealing specifically with gender roles or relationships in this work. I am aware of the references and connections that can and will be drawn the moment you place a man and a woman alone onstage, however I hope that the work sits somehow outside this. I am interested in creating a feeling that the work is almost like a closed system, that we are looking at and examining a method of mental processing without any outside input. I imagine this is sort of like observing the workings of the machine aside from anything you put into it, or anything it might produce. If we are to take something from this presentation of man and woman it is in a very simple and direct way; that they represent one of the most recognisable and ancient oppositions we know and one that we have a direct connection with. Tell me something humorous that happened during rehearsals? While we were doing our first cobbled together run and were in a particularly focused moment without any soundtrack and at the very same time the circus show began rehearsing in the adjoining studio and their soundtrack spilled over into our rehearsal. Needless to say that muffled soundtrack is now the audio for that section of the work – sometimes a bit of chance works wonders. Double Think by Byron Perry plays the Arts House, North Melbourne Town Hall from Oct 12 – 15, 2011 as part of the 2011 Melbourne Festival

Inga Liljestrom - Black Crow Jane- INTERVIEWS

Inga Liljestrom's latest album Black Crow Jane  is "quite different to Elk. "

Tina Arena isn't the only Australian songstress to leave behind the golden shores and blue mountains of her homeland, Inga Liljestrom- The Currawong Girl from the Northern Rivers - has fallen in love with the same beloved , Paris. With a new album and old influences at her fingertips, Paul Andrew speaks to the singer about memory, white witches, amethyst crystals and her latest musical collaboration.

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Inga tell me about your earliest memory of singing?

Well, my fondest memory of singing was when I was around seven years of age.
My mum was just starting to discover religion during the tale end of her Hippy period, so we would often go to the only church in Bellingen on Sundays and sit though a very conventional church service.

We moved from our lovely country adobe out in the hills somewhere deep in the hills of the Northern Rivers, into a place in town quite close to the church. I would visit the little church alone after school, be truly overjoyed to find the door open, and no one else inside. I would venture in and improvise to my hearts content, singing high notes so I could hear the sustain and the reverberations. I was absolutely in awe of the sound. 

I was very young, but I totally fell in love with this angelic sound and

the wonderful feeling it gave me. Looking back now, I think I have spent my entire adult life trying to recreate this feeling.

Tell me what you loved most about your musical training and education?

I studied voice at Southern Cross University in Lismore, many, many moons ago (not
telling how many). It was the early days of the course, so it was a
little loose in structure. Socially it was magnificent, and I feel I
milked every moment I could, with great parties, loves, wine and song.
The connections I made there I still have today, so many great people.

As for the actual music training, I fell in love with jazz, singers

including Billie Holiday, Sarah Vaughan, Ella Fitzgerald, Nancy Wilson,
Betty Carter to name a few. I felt like I belonged to this era of
women, I adored also the fashion, and would done myself in second
hand vintage dresses paired with black biker boots to add a little edge.

Tell me about one of your favourite and most inspiring singing teachers?

Valerie Tamblyn-Mills, a fabulous teacher. I loved Valerie because she
allowed me to be myself. When I arrived at the audition - for some
reason I remember her wearing a dressing gown and slippers (was I hallucinating?) which I recall telling her about a year or two later when I was well into my course, we had a good laugh at the time.

Valerie said she remembered me singing at the audition, so soft and so whispery, so soft in fact that she could barely hardly hear me, but Valerie said she loved my singing. One of the best things my teacher did for me was during a very strange time in my young adult life, a time when I felt I was being pestered by a spirit who wouldn't let me sleep ( the spirit kept turning my light on and off, shaking the bed, getting into bed with me) and it, the spirit, was literally making me crazy.

I would turn up to a singing lesson wearing old fashioned underwear, and be babbling away. I was so exhausted.  My dear teacher took me to see a white witch, who confirmed I was indeed being pestered, probably by a past lover who had since passed on, and she prescribed some potions, did a little magic on me, and I was back to being my true self once again and that pesky light switch no longer turned itself on and off mysteriously.

One of your fondest musical concert experiences?

Melanie Safka was my first real concert experience, and my first true
love musically. Melanie performed in Sydney, and my mum took me to see her
when I was around seven years old. I loved Melanie's songs so much, I would listen to her
at home, lying on the lounge and be covered in goose bumps. Her voice really moved me. Anyway, I only saw a few minutes of the concert, as I was so young, excited and overwhelmed, I fell asleep soon as she came on, however I must have absorbed the entire experience on some unconscious level, I vividly recall Melanie's long skirt, her long locks of hair, the plush red velvet curtains, a guitar, her gentle smile, the crowd applauding, then sleep, the sweetest sleep.

How did your latest album Black Crow Jane come about?

I wrote the songs while holidaying in the Blue Mountains two years ago while staying with my
sister. I had no home at the time and had been traveling for a few years. I would
take the guitar to the garden and these songs arrived, very easily, a new song nearly every day.

I went to France after this holiday and performed with a band I had formed in Paris a few years earlier, and we did our first show in the Czech Republic, it all went so well, the engineer proposed we make a recording together, which is what we did.

We hired a house in the countryside of Normandy, recording over a few days,  it all flowed really well, magically so. So what you hear are whole takes, no overdubs. just pure and simple. I wanted to make a recording that was different from the previous albums, more of a gutsy rock album, one of those things I needed to do and I imagine that the next album will be entirely different again.

These musical collaborations are very different to your earlier songs that we are more familiar with those Baroque folk pop songs like Phoenix or Stardust. What are your thoughts?

There are three collaborative tracks on the album, and they were very easy to make, the music was sent to me by the band and I would pen some lyrics, and that would be that. Or I would send lyrics and the guitarist would write the music. He too said it happened so easily. I think that ultimately Black Crow Jane is the rock album I always wanted to - and perhaps needed to- make, a little purging.

Rock is another aspect that is very real in me. I was brought up on Rock 'n' Roll and Folk. The first album I owned was Blondie, I knew all the lyrics to every Boomtown Rats and Rolling Stones song. Looking back now I was the only kid at school into them, everyone else was into KISS, not me. My mum listened to Nick Drave, Maddy Prior of Steely Span, and Melanie of course, so I think mum’s musical tastes were also highly influential.

Tell me about your songwriting process- does it begin with a chord, an image, a
memory, a dream?

Well, it can start from any point really, but for this album usually the music and lyrics came together, which is quite unusual for me. On the Elk album, it was the music that was composed firstly, in fact it was all recorded, and I had no lyrics or melodies for the songs. Very stressful!

On this album they arrived with a greater degree of simultaneity, which was a huge relief. While living in the Blue Mountains I would sit on the back garden step with a steaming cup of tea, a guitar in hand, black Currawongs watching over me. Birds with an unusual reverberating sing songy call. I would be listening to the birdsong and looking  out over the broken wooden fence and into the old pine trees, noticing the washing on the line, the collection of pot plants and the assortment of crystals, like amethyst and quartz,  glistening in the morning sun near my feet.

The songs on Black Crow Jane are the songs that arrived. It was such a wonderful period of time in my life, it felt so rare and the music felt effortless to produce.

In the evenings I would soak in a bath with the window wide open and watch the mists rolling, and I am so grateful having had these creative days.

Is there one particular song from this album that you find yourself singing
over and over to yourself?

For me probably Wildest Horse and Wishing Bone Hands perhaps because they are a little more fragile and folk like, nice to sing around the house. My partner sings Bittersweet all the time though, he says he can't get it out of his head.

I feel that the lyrics to these two songs are more pertinent to me on a most fundamental level, they are more a part of me or something, a little more insight into the lost romantic soul, that somehow, by grace, by music, is found again. 

More info:

http://www.myspace.com/ingaingaliljestrom

http://www.scu.edu.au/womeninmusic/index.php/13

BLACK CROW JANE in review:

http://www.cyclicdefrost.com/blog/2011/06/11/inga-liljestrom-black-crow-jane-groovescooterinertia/

Bagryana Popov- Sarajevo Suite- INTERVIEWS

Bagryana Popov

Written by Paul Andrew

Friday, 01 July 2011 09:00

How would it be to live in a city under siege? To suddenly fear for your life? For four years. Sarajevo Suite brings the experiences of women survivors of war to Australian audiences. We heard about the war in Bosnia on the news, distantly, briefly. The media attention ends, but the trauma remains for the people who lived through the war. Sarajevo Suite tells part of that story. Paul Andrew speaks to Director Bagryana Popov. Writer Helen Lucas has worked closely with refugees and has traveled extensively; tell me a little about the writer Bagryana, what inspires you about her art? I love Helen's openness, compassion and the simplicity and clarity of her writing in this piece. What do you love about her voice, her poetry? Helen distils the idea and keeps a beautiful rhythm. In Sarajevo Suite she has kept the voices of the women she interviewed, but found a certain specific rhythm in their text. There is a lovely balance between expressiveness, rhythm and sparseness. Nothing feels superfluous. Briefly, tell me about this story, its geography, its temporal setting? Sarajevo Suite is a collection of stories about experiences during a terrible moment in history. These stories emerge in a form of conversation. Three women share their experiences and from this a picture of the war emerges. The women have been through it, survived it and are telling us what happened. In that sense the play gives us a picture of the past but also a sense of the present. One of the women is in Australia, where she came as a refugee. So the geographic settings are the Balkans and Australia, but in the end, the setting is the room we are in together, in which they tell us their stories. And indeed, the narrative angle, a city and its people under siege? It gives us the minute detail of their lives; one woman says 'I had nothing of what you need for life, actually'. There is a combination of the most terrible suffering and a kind of endless every day, as they struggle to survive and keep some sense of normality within the madness of the situation. Her text, what do you understand about why Helen decided to write this particular story with this particular angle? The story comes out of personal contact. Helen was in Sarajevo a few years back, and while there she realized how little she knew of what people had gone through. She began to ask, and that led to these three women being interviewed. So this play is an act of listening and sharing. It comes out of a very personal contact with three women, in conversation which is at times very intimate, and at times comes to an abrupt limit. What enchants you the most about this play? The voices of the women are so alive and honest. There is a beautiful sense of the real human being speaking – speaking of terrible situations, but still, speaking openly. I love the unpredictability of rhythm within the stories, which can only come from lived experience and speech. There is no sentimentality in the way the women speak. At the same time there is so much love – for their children, for friends, for people around who are suffering from this terrible war. Without any grand statements from any of the women, what becomes clear is that war is senseless and dreadful, but also that people fleeing conflict or war, who become refugees, are normal people. That it can happen to anyone, overnight, whenever conflict erupts. Two Bosnian women and one Serbian woman, tell me briefly about their similarities and differences. It’s a play not about borders, but people I imagine? Absolutely. Two of the women lived through the whole siege in Sarajevo; one escaped and became a refugee. The lives of all three women were changed irrevocably by the war. All three women speak with dismay about the conflict, and they all come out of the experiences looking for ways to stay strong, to continue to be positive and to still find joy in life. How do you feel a play like this matters, as war crimes accountability trials and repercussions are unfolding and felt by so many, now as wounds are re-opened – for many now a feeling of so little by way of consolation? This play is a small space in which to tell stories which remind us of the long term effects of war. So many people suffered in the war in Bosnia, and it seems to have been a war with no rules. Perhaps some of that suffering can be eased with the sense that there is some just punishment for those who perpetrated terrible acts of violence in the period of the war. At the moment it's being called 'The refugee question' a misnomer if ever there was one, a term that seems to ignore the truth that the people inhabiting these lands, this island continent are all constituents of migration – indeed threat – at some point in time. What does this play provide us with now by way in terms of paying attention, being mindful in these lands we call home? This play, like so many other works of theatre in recent years, turns to the human story and gives a human face to the notion 'refugee'. Australia as a signatory of the 1951 UN Convention for Refugees has obligations to treat refugees humanely and offer protection, yet our recent governments on both sides of politics fall short of these obligations. The politics of fear against refugees seeks to leave them as anonymous masses. This play enters into the human story and the refugee is no longer a frightening anonymous intruder, but a normal person. The three women in this play are all intelligent, grounded women, the one who becomes a refugee, Milinka, does so to save herself and her son. and comes to Australia. Hearing her story makes the 'refugee question' not a question but a something normal, desirable and just. For me, it begs a related question, men are being held accountable now for war crimes like the Kyhmer Rouge regime in some spheres and not others. Osama Bin Laden, not so, he and his entire family were massacred, conveniently, expeditiously and not brought to a war trial commission of inquiry and accountability. A paradox given the US is a country founded on democratic principles with the humanitarian justice principles of 'please explain' set aside – this area of war crimes accountability is clearly one in flux, your thoughts, and your observations? What are we missing in stories about war crime accountability Bagryana – the blind spot? I think that it is a deeply fraught and difficult issue, the issue of partial justice. If justice is partial is it injustice? That is, if one war criminal is tried and sentenced and another isn't, does that destroy our trust in the concept of law, trial and the execution of justice? Or is partial justice better than none? Is it better that someone is tried, even if not all are tried? I don't have an answer to that, but I think that the great powers operate with deep cynicism, as some military leaders are brought to trial and not others. Recently I heard an excellent program on ABC Radio National discussing the International Tribunal for War Crimes during the war in former Yugoslavia, in which the question was raised whether NATO representatives would also be tried for their part in the conflict. It is very unlikely that powerful countries would allow that to happen. This leads to an erosion in the concept of justice, as it enacts a principle of 'might is right'. If you are strong, you are not tried or punished. If you lose, you are. There is something primitive and disturbing about this. Yet while I write this, I also think that to bring war criminals to trial is right, because at least there is a precedent, and hopefully that sends a message that there is no impunity for such crimes. That there can be consequences, repercussions, punishments for those who are powerful today and use their power to perpetrate terrible violence. Trials of war criminals will hopefully lead them to have a thought in their mind for what happens tomorrow, if they lose. Tell me about the funniest thing that has happened for you and/or the cast in rehearsals so far? Well, the three actresses are wonderful; they come from various parts of Europe and have great senses of humour. It has been a source of delight for us to compare accents and stories, copy each other's accents, and to learn to swear in Bosnian! Sarajevo Suite by Helen Lucas, directed by Bagryana Popov, is now playing at La Mama Theatre until 10 July, 2011.

Daniel Schlusser- INTERVIEWS

The Dollhouse   Written by Paul Andrew    Tuesday, 13 September 2011 18:14 Daniel Schlusser is one of the most influential directors and dramaturges in Australia. His Peer Gynt was hailed by many Melbourne critics as the outstanding theatre event of 2009 while his Life is a Dream and Poet #7 were nominated for a combined seven Victorian Green Room Awards, including Best Direction and Best Production, in that same year. Daniel Schlusser speaks to Australian Stage's Paul Andrew about his latest project, Ibsen's The Dollhouse. Daniel tell me about the certain something, someone or somewhere that has inspired your work with dramaturgy, updating plays, tying in canonical works to the zeitgeist now? I can't name it really, it's a compulsion, it's in perpetual motion, experiences of life; people art, landscape. My sense of lineage at this moment in time might include the morose artist Martin Kippenberger and the man who led me to him, Armin Petras (Artistic Director of the Gorki Theater in Berlin). Jack Hibberd's populist rewrites were an early spark as were the theories of Howard Barker. Films do it all the time, the way that Fassbinder re-uses Hollywood plots for his own ends. On reflection, is there a particularly fond theatre memory that feels like the base for your directing/ dramaturgy work?  Julie Forsyth as a wildcat Lady Macbeth and Rob Menzies as Macbeth in a site-specific Anthill production comes up – there was a sense of danger and muscularity and immediacy in that work that thrilled me at a young age. A lot of the great experiences I have had don't work directly on the mind in such an obvious way, it might be more accurate account of my dramaturgical development to recall trooping up to the television room to watch Dr Who on a Friday night, all the kids armed with pillows covering our faces during the scary bits. Tell me about your recent take on Peer Gynt – in hindsight what did you enjoy most about updating this work and what do you feel resonated most with audiences? Wow, what can I say about the audience? For me, in hindsight, as an audience of one, I still feel very moved by the basics of the story, regardless of contemporisation: a boy who grows up without a father and is trying to impress an absence, a girl who waits her whole life, with unwavering certainty for the boy to return when he is ready. Things that resonate with me are people I know in very specific ways, the brutality of needing to curtail the imagination in order to survive in the world, and the need for stories. The most successful aspect of the production might have been the flatness of the frame and the width of the stage, like the Australian accent, like the landscape, very little verticality. The real kombi on stage amongst other perfect design touches. And I think we tapped a kind of suburban hell – in the contemporisation/adaptation of the 'troll kingdom' in that play – a hell that was very recognisable for Melbourne audiences. And similarly with your take on Life Is A Dream? A week before rehearsals I was beaten up in a random attack by a bunch of kids on a street-corner in Westgarth. What seemed to be appalling timing ended up infusing the work in a way that was almost alchemical; I don't expect to again make a work based so thoroughly on instinct as that one. What motif or indeed, character(s) seized you most in selecting these two plays; from so many canonical works? That's the most mysterious question of all: how texts come to choose you. They are both considered unstage-able, I think that is a red-rag to a bull and their impracticality stems from their ambition and that's attractive. Faust Part II may well be the next point of call, or a novel, The Master and Margarita. I don't find "well-made plays" as interesting. I think that there are canonical works that, at any point in time confirm our existing world view and there are canonical works that appear to confirm our world view but actually contain really difficult truths, maybe it's discovering the latter that gets me to particular works. Ibsen is flawed, he is human, and his plays are a mix of deep insight, poetic genius and melodramatic rubbish. Calderon is almost as transcendent but also has that irritating habit of stretching metaphors to well-beyond breaking point, he's also deeply religious which is a stumbling block. It's another possibility: that it is the flaws that attract me to them. Thematically, they are pretty wide-ranging but first there has to be a single detail that gets under the skin; I read badly and come away with a single detail, such as, "I wonder what someone would really be like if they had spent the first 20 years of their life imprisoned in a cave?" and then I keep scratching at that detail until it yields a personal connection or a strong contemporary resonance, or simply, that I get a fix on the "reality" of that condition or idea. And then I read again and find another detail... eventually I have to make a show. Reclaiming social ritual in art, in these secular times, is perhaps one of theatre's most engaging consolations? Our lives are full of ritual, some of them are exhausted through mindless repetition some of them are alive and thriving. Ritual is not at all esoteric. It is a very practical, basic activity. I like to go to the footy with 40,000 people on the weekend and I like to go to the theatre with 100 other people during the week and in turn, I go to the pub and the conventions amongst half a dozen friends are just as regulated, it's very simple and it is very real, very ordinary work that has to be done. I wouldn't be comfortable "reclaiming" social ritual, it is more that the beginning point is examining the contract between the live audience and the performer and trying to re-energise the space for both. Of course my shows are often based around the structures of rituals such as parties, weddings, auctions and when you start investigating you become hyper-aware of the rules that bind us in even the most relaxed activities. I like your word "consolation" and wonder where that comes in. Is it that I don't like parody? I'm not interested in taking the piss, I am interested in the way these cliché or crass behaviours might conceal or satisfy deep needs. Is ritual the primary conceit behind your adaptations including plays like The Dollhouse? The alert viewer will notice that one of my favourite strategies across this sequence is identify the dominant social occasion and amp that up, increase its presence to provide a natural dramaturgical frame. In this case, it's the understanding that The Dollhouse is a Christmas story and Christmas is a very interesting time for ritual, particularly for Australians who celebrate with so many inherited Northern Hemisphere traditions. Nora's mental landscape – that paradoxical and universally familiar landscape, worldly success while something is deeply disturbing to the underbelly. Tell me about what is enduring, challenging and disturbing about Nora and a story like The Dollhouse? The problem with financial success and the quest for financial success is that somewhere along the line it is necessary that someone or something is exploited, it's the basic math of capitalism. When survival becomes the issue, we are at our most resourceful and at our ugliest. Ibsen's characters are not so much people as animals cloaked in civility. Tell me something about your selection process, what types of things and observations prompted you for the contemporary feel for this production of The Dollhouse, the shiny warehouse conversion setting for instance? Let's admit it: all Melbournians, regardless of class, want to live in a warehouse conversion, especially if it is re-badged as being on the "Upper West Side". Do you imagine something along the lines of 'What would Ibsen write today?' in these re-imaginings? Absolutely – he would be horrified if he saw a contemporary production in frock coats and outdated English if he happened to turn up now. Ibsen was searching for a form of realism. The  fact that our understanding of the real has changed substantially ought to be reflected in our idea of "fidelity" to the author. I'm also convinced that had Ibsen been alive today he would have included a Dalek in the script, so I'm very proud to be upholding the writer's vision in that respect. Horror, is there an Australian Gothic feel to this production? I am obsessed with Australian Gothic, the films of the 70's – Wake in Fright, or the photos of Trent Parke... and often go to them for inspiration but I think this one probably owes more to Polanski's claustrophobia – without the neurotic heroine. Our Nora would be quite comfortable glassing an intruder. The Dollhouse, directed by Daniel Schlusser opens at fortyfivedownstairs, 15 September, 2011. Images – Daisy Noyes

NAMATJIRA- Scott Rankin - INTERVIEWS

Written by Paul Andrew

Saturday, 27 August 2011 13:36

Scott Rankin is the writer/director of BigHart's acclaimed production Namatjira, celebrating the life and legacy of one of Australia's best loved artists – Albert Namatjira. Scott talks to Australian Stage's Paul Andrew. For the benefit of those readers who don't know about Big hART – tell me a little about its background, its social and cultural role, its philosophy? Big hART began 20 years ago as an experiment in new community dramaturgy. Each project is chosen carefully around policy issues, community issues and individual issues. A new process and approach to an issue is then designed around this matrix and always explores entwined relationships between identity and culture and the potential for new choices wrapped within each. Projects work long term, 3 to 5 years – and tend to be intergenerational. At some point in this process art is produced in various fields – often performative, theatre, music, dance, film, free to air media, visual arts etc. In this way Big hART is a kind of new articulation of the politics of optimism in a world addicted to the satiating flavor of collective despair. The company is currently involved in two research projects and has been the subject of many evaluations, some useful, most landfill. Currently Big hART receives almost no funding from arts and culture sources, as poorly resourced government agencies seek to cost shift between departments and the non-government sector. However the organization is the product of a large group of talented innovators, artists, arts workers, researchers and producers who tend to be early-movers on new opportunities, resources and needs. This shapes the organization and explains its continual growth and change. Scott tell me about how you first came to know about Namatjira, his community, his vivid watercolours? Like many Australians over the last fifty years the art of Albert Namatjira seeped into my consciousness through tea towels, biscuit tin lids, place mats, prints and the occasional real painting in Art Galleries. My first encounter with his family came when working on Big hART's Ngapartji Ngapartji project and tour. One of Albert's kin great-grandsons was making art on stage and every night he was introduced at the end of the show as one of Albert's kin grandsons. The audience reaction was so strong we realized this was a story people really wanted to hear. From there, Big hART was introduced to his community and family, a relationship sprang to life and we began to design the project. Can you tell me about the geography that inspired him? I'm not the right person to tell you much about this other than my own experience of his country. Albert was Western Aranda and came in from the bush early last century. His art features country from the Macdonald Ranges near Alice Springs out past Ntaria (Hermansburg). It is ancient, eroded, profoundly beautiful and deeply moving. Sometimes when leaving I'm filled with a deep ache that I find hard to shake off. At others I just want to get the hell out of there because it’s so friggin’ hot! Albert's best preserved pictures of this country in the watercolour tradition catch the light, colour and mythic properties of the land in an uncanny way. I'm not in the position to talk of private symbology or myths. Suffice to say there is a strong cultural heritage that lives beyond the textbook, that is private and powerful and in many ways both intact and changing with time and influence and savvy adaption. Can you tell me about his forebears, his family totem, and his Hermannsburg community? No not really, totemic questions are more appropriate put to his family. There is much on the public record and some information in the performance piece which speaks for itself. Hermannsburg now seems quaint and Germanic, with touches of the Lutheran aesthetic here and there. The play has brought together descendents of the Albrecht family, the Namatjira family and Rex Battarbee's family (The man who taught him watercolour). They all hold each other in very deep affection and the songs, music and discussion of time on the mission also seems imbued with this same spirit. It's well worth a visit (120 kms west of Alice Springs.) Can you tell me a little about his art training and influences? Albert was shocked by the intensity of the colours of this "new technology" – watercolours. He quickly understood the potential for them as a way out of poverty. His training was informal and more of an exchange of skills with Rex – he took Rex places to paint on Camel and they camped together. Albert's first pictures were clumsy, but Rex saw his potential and assisted him with mentoring and also began taking his pictures to the city as part of his own exhibition. Rex and the mission then started promoting Albert's work and after some years it gained the attention of many. At the height of his fame, his shows sold out – what was it about his watercolours that struck such a chord with art collectors and the Australian public? I'm not an art critic however it appears first and foremost Albert had a beautiful eye and a deep affinity with his subject. His capacity to understand light and to paint what he was looking at with a deep simplicity was important. Beyond that there were aspects to this western way of seeing which were troubling for him. He solved these problems by gently avoiding things he wasn't allowed to include in his pictures. The public interest in the work was fuelled because so few of us hugging the coast in cities had seen that desert country and yet there was a deep growing hunger for it, for information and images about it. Perhaps, this was where the tsunami of interest came from so rapidly. This theatre work employs many genres in the storytelling; tell me about this confluence of genres in recounting his biography? The show is created in an art making space. The performers are sometimes outnumbered by the visual artists... depending on how many artists we have with us from the Namatjira family. The beginning point for the 18 month creative development was to sit with these watercolour artists and paint with them. The silence and pace of the painting became quite important in creating the work. On to this bed of art-making we began building on the skills of the performers. The piece utilizes a number of contrasts and languages. The recorder playing and composition of Genevieve Lacy – with its Western resonances. Trevor Jamieson's fluid movement in story-telling. Aranda language in the singing overlaying the Germanic choir traditions. Comedy, high camp, monologue and movement sit within this 'studio' space. All of this is mediated through Trevor's direct address and highly personal performance. This controlled bower-birding is something of the language Big hART has been exploring through these big pieces such as Namatjira, Ngapartji Ngapartji and others generated from central Australia. Central to this is the mediated space created by Trevor's generosity towards the audience. It feels like he is working freehand, however a great deal of work has gone into the structure and nuance of these moments. Moments of great care where an audience has become very raw because of the material and need to be treated well – not to let us off the hook – rather to deepen the experience and allow Trevor and Derik to take us further inward and experience a deeper level of engagement and find a new energy to ponder next steps and our contribution to them. So these various forms are chosen carefully to enhance this journey of generosity from performer to audience and audience to performer and then on to the non-performers – the family who are there to witness our proper induction into this family story. How, where and when did this theatre work and concept come about? The work began during the touring of Ngapartji Ngapartji and was then researched and discussed in 2008/09. In August 2009 it was fifty years since Albert passed away. Big hART began working with the family as a kind of commemoration that year, developing the Namatjira Project. There were creative developments, showings in Alice Springs and Hermannsburg over the next 12 months, and then the first version of the work was staged as a co-production with Company B in Sydney. This first production was co-directed by Wayne Blair and the reaction to the sell out season was very strong. Since then the performance piece has gone into another creative development and this process will continue. The performance piece is the highly visible part of a much larger project working in the community and also contributing to a policy discussion around the issue of Aboriginal Art Centres and whether they are receiving enough support. And it's premise as a re-appropriation/reclamation of an indigenous biography? I don't really think of it in these terms. What I find interesting is that the story is very much about Albert and Rex and their relationship as well as the struggles of the Pastor and his family. There are many stories told here, however it is always framed by people discussing the show with a kind of blind-eye to the complexities being presented. Yes Albert is fore grounded as the play unfolds. Part of the reason for this is the art-making that is going on continually around you. The audience begin to float with this making, and artifacts on stage start to take on a kind of realness and become embued with the spirit of the studio, the family, the life, in a way that is slightly unusual for a theatre experience. The audience then forsake all other aspects of the story and find a strong experience of their own in Trevor's hands. We forget the almost "standup" material, the drag, and the choir songs and find us deeply in Albert's life experience and it becomes – hopefully – an intense experience where a deeper reconsideration of personal assumptions can be made... beyond the circumstances of the story. Where are we now. Of course in many ways it is a bio-play, but it is much broader than that, or at least invites the audience down many related tangents, that are not so much about the biography, but of course all about it. For a generation or two, large art prints of Namatjira's famous works hung inside classrooms of public and private schools alongside works from the Heidelberg school, awakening many young minds – mine included – to his work and indigenous heritage. There have been many other Namatjira prompts in the collective imagination as well? This question is probably too big to answer here. Albert was as much an entrepreneur as an artist. He saw opportunities to support his family and community and against all odds, with the help of his friend Rex, and the Pastor, they made this happen. This led to him eventually selling the copyright for a very good price to a friend of his, which released many printed versions of his images onto the market. Towards the end of his life, as well as teaching others, he allowed others to finish some aspects of his pictures. This seems strange to us, but was not that strange then. Some of these approaches fuelled criticism of him and Rex. Others – on both sides of politics – romanticized him as a kind of noble savage artist, and lamented his painting in these western traditions, and expressed anger at this adaptive ability to explore avenues of hope in this way. Sitting alongside this debate are many very exquisitely painted works, which have been stored well and show their true colours. Alison French has written beautifully and far more expertly than I can on his prolific output and profound works. Art making in indigenous culture is about relatedness and kinship, art is alive and living. I'm not in the position to talk about the indigenous perspective on art making... however, I do think it is very instructive to look at Aboriginal Art Centres now in remote communities and to examine their contribution as beacons of positive endeavour. And then look at how appallingly under funded and under supported they are. In a sea of policy failure, many of these centers are the lungs of these communities, breathing hope and life and possibility in difficult times. Significantly these centers take a "whole of life" view and our devaluing of them is I think a repeat of the treatment Albert received in his day under a more subtle guise. In many ways Albert's life and artistry provided the momentum for the Art Centre movement and we continue to punish him through our neglect of Art Centres and their role in remote communities today. From my observation art at the centre of life is both a very traditional idea and a deeply contemporary idea, which has nothing to do with trinkets and trophies and everything to do with thriving and hope. Visit: bighart.org Image credits:- Top Right –  and Scott Rankin. Photo – Nicholas Higgins Bottom Right – Trevor Jamieson in Big hART's Namatjira. Photo – BrettBoardman