| how we began... |
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As we started to explore this new form we discovered new opportunities that were impossible inside a theatre, especially the use of fire and water.
The changing light became central to the event. Many shows are timed to sunset, with the thread of the narrative moving from light into darkness. We learnt to celebrate incidental gifts; the school of dolphins, the timely rumble of thunder, the innocent passer by stumbling onto a scene. And we began to explore the effect on audiences of being in the open air, in twilight, together they were more active, had more commitment to the narrative, were more aware of each other, became more vulnerable, sensual and emotional
Throughout this time Kneehigh was developing several strands of work that crossed over and fed each other.
This was the second event that we made with the community of Lanner and the surrounding villages at Carn Marth Quarry.
This is the 'Beast' of Bodmin carried by people of the town.- Sue and Pete constructed him in public in the carpark at Mount Folly, and were regaled with stories of evidence and sightings of the real Beast 'The Ministry said it was a dog what done it, but I never seen a dog drag a half-eaten sheep ten foot up a tree...'Our Beast was made of bamboo and willow. His tail wagged and his teeth gnashed.
One winter had been so stormy that nobody had been able to fish. Tom Bawcock went out in his little boat and caught 'sebm sorts o' fish', that the villagers baked into a starry gazy pie. The fish lanterns swim through the village most years now, and one local was heard saying to a visitor 'Oh yeah, this is traditional...'
We were asked to undertake a residency at Alverton School to help animate their school fete. One of the teachers at the school was passionate about local history and came up with the idea of reviving the ancient serpent dance that used to process through Penzance on the Feast of St John. The idea spread, other schools became involved, along with the Chamber of Commerce, and Mazey Day was born.
We learnt a great deal on these early explorations about the nature of the relationship between the performer and the audience, and of how audiences can behave when given these new powers!In one Wildwalk through Heligan gardens the audience were given the opportunity to release a suspicious character from his chains. After some hot debate amongst themselves, one of the audience members took the keys and threw them into the woods. The actor then had to figure out how to get himself free to make it for his next cue...
We look for landscapes where there is enclosure and therefore surprise, but also distance, the long view, places that can provide both intimate and epic experiences.
At Godrevy the audience were enrolled as tourists on a slightly cranky package tour. This show, Ghostnets, managed delicately to illuminate our relationship with the developing world, impacts of mass tourism and the hopes and dreams of refugees.We made a pivotal discovery here.
When you work in the landscape there are people who belong to it.
The sound of engines would follow us as we made early site visits.. These bikers persisted in roaring through our rehearsals for Hell's Mouth. We recruited them as the warring armies, to do what they did best. They were spectacular in their samurai style flags which could be seen in the distance and over the tops of the bushes as they raced around the pit holding sticks of dynamite. As the show went into performance they got competitive. By the time we reached the end of the run it was heart stopping!
He invited us to make a piece of work in Birgu, the once-glorious, ex-capital of Malta, now sadly fallen on hard times. Bill went with two other artists, sculptor David Kemp and writer Mercedes Kemp to research the place and people.
Malta wanted to extend the relationship and sought European funding for a transnational project linking Cornwall, Malta and Cyprus. We formed a company of artists from the three countries and decided to experiment with one narrative that would be told in each place, changing and adapting to the landscape and community in each location. We gained permission to use a beautiful and simple Gabriel Garcia Marquez story A Very Old Man with Enormous Wings.
We had to negotiate with the UN for rehearsals and permission to fly our angel. The border had only just been opened; Turkish Cypriot artists came through passport control every day, as did audiences. These young artists had been born after the island was partitioned; they had never met anyone from the other side of the Green Line. One day in rehearsal Bill asked one of the Turkish Cypriot artists to teach the whole company his village dance. One of the Greek Cypriot artists began openly weeping. This is my dance she said. This is the dance we do in my village.
Hayle has waited long for promised investment and development. We worked with the fishermen, the harbourmasters, local schools and young volunteers.
Most of the places we work in have lost their meaning somehow, communities that are facing dramatic change finding new purpose after the collapse of traditional industry, post-conflict, or on the brink of radical development. It seems to us that peoples ability to heal themselves and move on depends on the narrative they tell about themselves.
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