Truth Games and the Fool
Andrew and I met up today at the castle to talk further about the fool. Thinking this would easily slip into a session of movement, which If I'm honest has yet to be at the forefront of out time spent together, we set about looking at truth games. Why I hear you ask? Well after scrutinizing what it is that the fool offers to society and culture as a whole we rounded out with the agreement that this was 'truth'. After all it is the unspoken truth that is so often sought but left unchallenged, the unspoken truth that can reduce us to fits of hysterics or uncover our naked shame. Truth it would seem is the food of the fool, for to enact the truth is to allow the belt of deceit to be unbuckled. So, where to start? And as always, all this is easy to quaff on about endlessly, but how can it translate to movement? For me this is where I have somewhat of a brain fart. Falling back on what I know best, and feel safest doing, I talk, we, talk.
Supping a depleted uranium strength coffee Andrew and I sit on the jetty and discuss truth games and what it is that lies within them. There is no doubt something sadistic even masochistic in them. After all who really, in the day to day of life, wants to be coerced into reliving the time you had sex with a dog, or were found masturbating in your parents bedroom and other such painful tales. Not me. However, after a few jagermiesters and glasses of truth serum the need to spew fourth truths and unburden the uniquely British uptight attitude starts to tell.
Taking spin the bottle as a classic example of truth and dare, the act of playing, or even just agreeing to play, sets a strange air of tension, often sexual, into the room. People start eying each other up, whats he/she got on me, who do I NOT want to snog, and who DO I want to snog. Tactics brew, butterflies emerge, wickedness is set to prevail. As always seems to be the case when this game is played, there reaches a point in the night where to dare is to win. The truth at first is the far scarier proposition, dependent on whom you are playing with (note to self, do not play with your forensic psychiatrist friend, not unless you value your friends), but as the game goes on and the serum flows, the truth (at least to my mind) begins to wain in interest and the dare becomes all the more enticing. Why? Well as I hinted at earlier, inevitably this game, and seemingly all other truth games boil down to our secretive SEX lives and fantasies. More often than not, there not that terrifying to bequeath, were all fairly similar, I think at least. Sure there is a pleasure to be gained by asking the usually un-askable question and watching the wracked decision, truth or dare, truth or dare. But how much more fun is it to play the roulette with a fully loaded gun! Again, probably the drink has a lot to do with it. Last time I played, and it may very well be the last time I played, to dare became the game, who would go the furthest at their own expense, truth... what truth, I'm all about the dare. Result... a semi viral video of me squatting in the street with a finger where the sun don't shine regaling in a funny little voice (as per request) 'Dom is zeee greatest'.
So, back to Andrew and me. Having talked about truth games, and whether or not there was some way of transposing/relating them to our exploration of 'what it is that relates the actions of one fool to the next' we decided that truth games were not the best place to start. In fact they seemed to be somewhat of a cu-de-sac.
We continued talking about the fool, specifically in relation to our 'VLO' piece in Amsterdam. We began to think about the piece as being a choreography of fools. The unwitting enters the art space. Unbeknownst, their every move, glance, shift and murmur is food for the fools, whose role is to find the hidden truth. The truth, for that's what I am deciding to translate these movements and gestures into is then relayed, by a pair of fools. Try as they might to encapsulate all that enters their jesters court the fools are destined to fail. For the truth in its physical embodiment is entirely subjective, and therefore doomed to fail.
This got me thinking of choreographing as means to find truth. Luring the fool to his own humiliating death, holding up the mirror to reflect his now venerated, ritualized actions.
Amongst my inane coffee fueled ramblings I remembered this this incredible scene near the end of the wicker man in which the fool, Edward Woodwood is lead to his end.
The Wicker Man
The fool whose honesty and action is truth in its purest form, is served up as the ultimate sacrifice to a pagan god. A holy fool lead to his demise by his own actions.
The day ended off with a series of simple floor exercises. I say simple. To Andrew at least. I had no idea how hard it was to move fluidly across the floor. I felt and still feel like an elderly man. This needs to change.
My apprehension was a starting to abate. The physical had finally begun to encroach on the cerebral. In eager anticipation of our next meeting Andrew and I put together an altogether more rigorous schedule.
Firstly. We are going to present, as idiots, how we have got to where we are so far, what it is we do, how we do it, and where we are going. This is my/our homework. Were going to be doing this on Friday 9th March.
Secondly, on Saturday 10th of March were going to bring in 5 other performers to run a day of fairly intensive VLO workshops. We want to run a series of microcosms of the VLO performance, both as performers and as audience/fuel to see how/what there is to this which we can take forwards.
Thirdly, we will meet again on the 12th of March to concentrate our time together and strike whilst the irons hot.
Finally, we realized and decided that we shouldn't hamstring ourselves. By this I mean we need to work to our strengths and bring our own practices to bear on this work. There has been a feeling of pressure from both of us to re-invent the wheel. I think through doing as does Andrew (you wouldn't think it judging by all the guff I write). But we both 'do' very differently. I am going to make props for each subsequent meeting and Andrew is going to devise a physical start and end to each meeting.
We need to help each other along, for there is a mire which threatens to engulf us.
Think I will leave it there for now.
Andrew and I met up today at the castle to talk further about the fool. Thinking this would easily slip into a session of movement, which If I'm honest has yet to be at the forefront of out time spent together, we set about looking at truth games. Why I hear you ask? Well after scrutinizing what it is that the fool offers to society and culture as a whole we rounded out with the agreement that this was 'truth'. After all it is the unspoken truth that is so often sought but left unchallenged, the unspoken truth that can reduce us to fits of hysterics or uncover our naked shame. Truth it would seem is the food of the fool, for to enact the truth is to allow the belt of deceit to be unbuckled. So, where to start? And as always, all this is easy to quaff on about endlessly, but how can it translate to movement? For me this is where I have somewhat of a brain fart. Falling back on what I know best, and feel safest doing, I talk, we, talk.
Supping a depleted uranium strength coffee Andrew and I sit on the jetty and discuss truth games and what it is that lies within them. There is no doubt something sadistic even masochistic in them. After all who really, in the day to day of life, wants to be coerced into reliving the time you had sex with a dog, or were found masturbating in your parents bedroom and other such painful tales. Not me. However, after a few jagermiesters and glasses of truth serum the need to spew fourth truths and unburden the uniquely British uptight attitude starts to tell.
Taking spin the bottle as a classic example of truth and dare, the act of playing, or even just agreeing to play, sets a strange air of tension, often sexual, into the room. People start eying each other up, whats he/she got on me, who do I NOT want to snog, and who DO I want to snog. Tactics brew, butterflies emerge, wickedness is set to prevail. As always seems to be the case when this game is played, there reaches a point in the night where to dare is to win. The truth at first is the far scarier proposition, dependent on whom you are playing with (note to self, do not play with your forensic psychiatrist friend, not unless you value your friends), but as the game goes on and the serum flows, the truth (at least to my mind) begins to wain in interest and the dare becomes all the more enticing. Why? Well as I hinted at earlier, inevitably this game, and seemingly all other truth games boil down to our secretive SEX lives and fantasies. More often than not, there not that terrifying to bequeath, were all fairly similar, I think at least. Sure there is a pleasure to be gained by asking the usually un-askable question and watching the wracked decision, truth or dare, truth or dare. But how much more fun is it to play the roulette with a fully loaded gun! Again, probably the drink has a lot to do with it. Last time I played, and it may very well be the last time I played, to dare became the game, who would go the furthest at their own expense, truth... what truth, I'm all about the dare. Result... a semi viral video of me squatting in the street with a finger where the sun don't shine regaling in a funny little voice (as per request) 'Dom is zeee greatest'.
So, back to Andrew and me. Having talked about truth games, and whether or not there was some way of transposing/relating them to our exploration of 'what it is that relates the actions of one fool to the next' we decided that truth games were not the best place to start. In fact they seemed to be somewhat of a cu-de-sac.
We continued talking about the fool, specifically in relation to our 'VLO' piece in Amsterdam. We began to think about the piece as being a choreography of fools. The unwitting enters the art space. Unbeknownst, their every move, glance, shift and murmur is food for the fools, whose role is to find the hidden truth. The truth, for that's what I am deciding to translate these movements and gestures into is then relayed, by a pair of fools. Try as they might to encapsulate all that enters their jesters court the fools are destined to fail. For the truth in its physical embodiment is entirely subjective, and therefore doomed to fail.
This got me thinking of choreographing as means to find truth. Luring the fool to his own humiliating death, holding up the mirror to reflect his now venerated, ritualized actions.
Amongst my inane coffee fueled ramblings I remembered this this incredible scene near the end of the wicker man in which the fool, Edward Woodwood is lead to his end.
The Wicker Man
The fool whose honesty and action is truth in its purest form, is served up as the ultimate sacrifice to a pagan god. A holy fool lead to his demise by his own actions.
The day ended off with a series of simple floor exercises. I say simple. To Andrew at least. I had no idea how hard it was to move fluidly across the floor. I felt and still feel like an elderly man. This needs to change.
My apprehension was a starting to abate. The physical had finally begun to encroach on the cerebral. In eager anticipation of our next meeting Andrew and I put together an altogether more rigorous schedule.
Firstly. We are going to present, as idiots, how we have got to where we are so far, what it is we do, how we do it, and where we are going. This is my/our homework. Were going to be doing this on Friday 9th March.
Secondly, on Saturday 10th of March were going to bring in 5 other performers to run a day of fairly intensive VLO workshops. We want to run a series of microcosms of the VLO performance, both as performers and as audience/fuel to see how/what there is to this which we can take forwards.
Thirdly, we will meet again on the 12th of March to concentrate our time together and strike whilst the irons hot.
Finally, we realized and decided that we shouldn't hamstring ourselves. By this I mean we need to work to our strengths and bring our own practices to bear on this work. There has been a feeling of pressure from both of us to re-invent the wheel. I think through doing as does Andrew (you wouldn't think it judging by all the guff I write). But we both 'do' very differently. I am going to make props for each subsequent meeting and Andrew is going to devise a physical start and end to each meeting.
We need to help each other along, for there is a mire which threatens to engulf us.
Think I will leave it there for now.
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