So today was the 28th April and that means it is exactly 1 month until the 28th May which is the first public performance of my debut solo show at Roundhouse.
I thought I would write a blog to celebrate this fact.
However it has taken me so long to get through the list of To Dos that go into making a show that I have only just got round to writing it. And now it is the 29th April.
And so I am eating late night ice-cream in bed.
Welcome to the world of Quiet Violence.
Quiet Violence is all about the little things that we do to make life harder for ourselves; our small acts of self destruction.
Choosing cheap loo roll; wearing shoes that rub; pretending we are in love
It is a piece that I have been writing for over 2 years. Mostly in my head, in my mirror and across about 8 different notebooks.
This little red one was the very first, which I brought in preparation for starting the Roundhouse Poetry Collective in 2012 run by Steven Camden AKA Polarbear.
And that is where it all began.
My interest in spoken word and the rhythm, poetry and refrains of every day life.
Tight jeans, trainers with a wedge in, hair scraped back and a bra pushing up
Zooming ahead almost 3 years and I am prepping for my first 2 shows at Roundhouse, as part of their brilliant spoken word festival The Last Word, and then am off on a National Tour including a run at the Edinburgh Fringe.
I decided to make a solo show because I wanted to explore who I am as an individual artist and what I can contribute to creative processes.
I also needed to confront my own self destructive patterns of behaviour and it seemed bravest to do this in front of an audience, alone.
But of course I’m not; not really.
The first thing that you learn when you make solo work is how many other people contribute to it.
– Friends and family who politely say yes to ‘can I just run this little idea past you?’ and ‘please will you come and see the 17th scratch I’ve been working on?’
– Mentors and Tutors who encourage you to join classes, apply for opportunities, develop work regardless. And say ‘it’s great’ when it probably isn’t completely great.
– Bosses who are understanding of your midnight writing spells and sleepy eyes and spelling mistakes the next morning
– Venue Producers that help you write funding applications and give you rehearsal space and loads and loads of loads of emails back to annoying questions, always with smiley faces at the end
– Funders who take a chance
– Tour Venues who take a risk
– Dramaturges and Directors who PUSH YOU until you cry and then let you eat Percy Pigs because you’ve earnt them.
– Designers who mix their ideas with yours to make actual magic.
– Cool Documentation Teams in dungarees and boots who capture it all so that you can show your grandkids one day
– Sparkly, social ladies who make you tweet and write blogs…
And of course the characters in the show. Made from ex-boyfriends, school friends, Grannys, dads, women in toilets, housemates through walls, people on the tube, people in Argos, people in magazines, me, you and annoying little girls called Jenny.
Love from me, Ben and Jerry. Night xxx