Yarn-Bombing - Coming to a Community Near You

A quick thought about the art in everyday life...

Photo by Ashley McDonald

At about this time last year I read a really interesting article in the Toronto Star.  It talked about this new artistic phenomena that was ambushing  cities across North America, and I was enthralled.  It was called: "Yarnbombing".  

Yarnbomb – verb. To gently fasten knitted and crocheted works to public surfaces as cozy, impermanent graffiti: The kindergarten teacher yarnbombed a pole in the park with a stocking stitch in shades of blue and green.

What a fantastic idea!  Just imagine it:  You're walking down the street on a chilly autumn afternoon, when you notice a bare pole, bar or other inanimate object with a cozy sweater knit onto it.  Suddenly, this otherwise normal and forgotten piece of the landscape is brought to life.  It makes you stop and reevaluate your surroundings, makes the less than memorable journey you intended on embarking on an exciting hunt for handmade treasure.

Photo by Ashley McDonald

Waterloo has been hit, and I couldn't be happier.  The city that I'm often harping on for not having any visual appeal suddenly has become a hotbed for knitted fashion, and not just on the citizens.  This array of knitted art has beautified the neighbourhood and has brought light to the art of textile creation.  

Since reading the newsarticle last fall I have become a bit of a knitter myself.  Nothing spectacular, but it's something that I find is a great stress outlet and is a challenge (not to mention it's really practical, I'm never going to have an excuse for a new scarf).  Being a beginner, I'm aware of how long it takes to knit a few rows.  Now imagine kitting a massive sweater for a telephone pole!  That is some serious dedication.  I love that a team of knitters are joining together to create a tactile art installation throughout the city, and I wish that I was among them.  Not only are you bonding with your fellow yarnbombers, you're touching the lives of so many people in your community through your strategically placed work.  

I thank the local yarnbomb team for opening up my eyes to the small wonders of daily life.  Would I have normally thought that a lamppost was an appealing partner for a hug?  Definitely not.  But with a cozy sweater there was no question I was going to stop and give it some love, and reflect on it's purpose.  I thought about the feeling of the yarn against my skin, the absurd nature of it's location, and how lucky I was to have streetlights at night in my community.  The safety I felt in that moment was amazing, and I thank you, mysterious knitters for a memorable moment in an everyday outdoor jaunt. 

Interested in joining the yarnbomb team?  So am I.  Check out their Facebook Info Page and maybe we can help on the next bombing-expedition! 

WeeTube: Owning Up To Your Online Persona

WeeTube

Starring James Long and Maiko Bae Yamamoto

By Theatre Replacement

Photo by Tim Matheson

            I’ve never been one to watch a lot of YouTube videos, so when I was given the opportunity to watch Theatre Replacement’s “WeeTube” I thought that I might not relate to a piece that so heavily relies on YouTube material.  Surprisingly, I was wrong. Vancouver-based Theatre Replacement initially produced “WeeTube” in 2008 but has been touring it worldwide ever since.  It isn’t being produced here in Ontario, so I was lucky enough to have viewed the performance on videotape. 

            The performances begin with the audience watching a short YouTube video on a projected screen.  The actors, James Long and Maiko Bae Yamamoto, explain that after the video has completed they will act out an ordinary scenario but their text will be the comments that were written on the video at the time of the performance.  With these remarks fed through iPods, the actors go about their activities casually commenting on what they had just seen.  It’s a clever idea that is successfully delivered with lightheartedness but also comments strongly on society.

            Presented in four different scenarios Yamamoto and Long reflect on the clips while going about normal activities including baking cookies, gathering around the microwave for popcorn after work, opening Christmas gifts or getting dressed to go out.  I must admit, the absurdity of their actions juxtaposed with the text they were saying was hilarious.  The straightforwardness of the concept along with the naturalistic acting styles of two relatively laid-back characters made the production seem effortless.    

            In vocalizing the written comments, “WeeTube” puts the poor grammar, lazy short form, small vocabulary and excessive swearing of online communication out in the open.  It’s hard to think of a time when I haven’t included “LOL” in a text or a chat conversation, but when it is said multiple times in a theatre production as “L-O-L” it becomes clear how horrible it sounds.  Has society really gotten this lazy that we can’t articulate intelligent thoughts online?  Our vocabulary seems to be shrinking, and online commenting and chatting illustrates how uneducated we sound. 

            After the final YouTube clip of two Pandas, the comments made a turn for the worst.  They  began as light and fluffy, full of LOL’s, but soon became hostile.  An argument began between the online personas over a small disagreement about miniscule details of the clip.  In presenting this as dialogue I believe that “WeeTube” asks audiences to question the power of their anonymity online.  Few people would be commenting in such a foul fashion if they had to say it face to face with someone.  Instead, the anonymity allows for a barrier-free forum where hurtful comments and language are thrown around.

            Theatre Replacement has created a unique and exciting production that is extremely relevant in today’s society.  Viewing it on video probably didn’t highlight the production elements of the performance, but the simplicity that I experienced was welcome.  Having less on stage meant that there was less competition for attention and the focus could easily be brought to the actors.  It is hard to believe that Long and Yamamoto are being fed the dialogue through their iPods and that aside from the physical movements their performances are not rehearsed.  This quasi-improvisation is a tough task that the two actors perform seamlessly.  

            If you’re interested in getting a small sense of what the “WeeTube” experience is about, I suggest you visit http://vimeo.com/12833610.  Theatre Replacement has posted a succinct promotional clip and it will likely leave you wanting more. 

            Having said that I’m not a big YouTube participant, did “WeeTube” change my outlook?  Perhaps.  I now realize how stupid people can sound online, and the importance of writing things that I would be proud to have said aloud.  It’s easy to coward behind the anonymity of an online persona.  Not only did “WeeTube” have me rethinking societal norms online and how it affects my life, the production was fun to experience.

            In keeping with the message of the play I will openly sign off this installment knowing that these thoughts are my own and that I’d repeat them to you any day, any time and not feel ashamed.  Now if only the rest of the online society could do the same.   

The Clockmaker - Tick-Tock, There's Too Much Talk

The Clockmaker
Written by Stephen Massicotte
Directed by Bob White

Starring Damien Atkins, Kevin Bundy, Clair Calnan & Christian Goutsis

At Tarragon Theatre

September 14 – October 24

In its Toronto debut, Tarragon Theatre has opened it’s 2010-2011 season with Stephen Massicotte’s The Clockmaker.  Director Bob White revisits the play after directing it previously at Alberta Theatre Projects, presenting the part romance, part mystery to new audiences in Toronto. 

The Clockmaker begins with its namesake, Heinrich Mann (Christian Goutsis), in a rather sticky situation.  He is under interrogation by the mysterious and pompous Monsieur Pierre (Damien Atkins) who claims that he is suspected of committing a crime. Meanwhile, Mann meets Frieda (Claire Calnan), a woman with her own problems, most notably her broken cuckoo clock and abusive husband, Adolphus (Kevin Bundy).  As the clockmaker takes on the task of repairing Frieda’s clock their relationship intensifies.  The audience follows this group between scenes of reality and scenes of questionable reality; where Mann and Frieda do not recognize one another, and have no recollection of their personal histories.  When the married couple and Mann finally unite with the presentation of the clock things turn sour.  Murder, revelation and final judgment with the world’s greatest clockmaker ensue. 

Deeply embedded in Masicotte’s text is the idea of a cycle; the cycle of time, the cycle of life, and at times the unnecessary cycle or repetition of basic text in dialogue.  Despite the quick delivery of the text, the repetition of dialogue throughout the play slowed down the pace and was ultimately a detriment to the piece.  The 95-minute production lagged due to this heavy dialogue and constant reiteration.

Time and life as a cycle are explored throughout the production aspects of White’s production. Scott Reid’s set highlights this theme with arches that resemble the circular cogs of a clock, beautifully framing the action on stage.  In particular the set is helpful in maintaining the uncertainty of time in relation to location that is required for the production.

The performances from the cast were varied, from Bundy’s strong physicality and naturalistic portrayal of Adolphus to the less than relatable overly stylized Mann.  In particular, Goutsis’s portrayal of Mann was far too unrealistic.  His overt nervousness and perpetual upward inflection was a constant annoyance.

Rounding out the production was the beautiful light design by Rebecca Picherack and sound design by Kevin McGugan.  Blackouts were filled with realistic soundscapes of long corridors and instrumental pieces that had hints of a ticking clock; all of which enhanced the viewing experience.  Most notably, Picherack and McGugan worked together to create rain scenes with a beautiful mix of colours and well timed puddle splashes.

The Clockmaker attempts to be a perfect sphere to which the cycles it discusses can rotate smoothly.  Unfortunately bumps such as lengthy dialogue and overpowering character choices create a break in the cycle and drag out the sequence creating a beautiful show with just too much talk and not enough tick-tock. 

Blasted - My Theatrical Nightmare

Blasted
Written by Sarah Kane
Directed by Brendan Healy
Starring David Ferry, Michelle Monteith and Dylan Smith
At Buddies in Bad Times Theatre
September 22 - October 17, 2010

Photo of Dylan Smith and David Ferry by Omer Yukseker

Open-minded is a term I would use when describing my tastes for the theatre. So when I was unconventionally led around the back alley behind the Buddies in Bad Times theatre on Friday, September 24th, I had an inkling that I was about to experience something good. With a mandate that is dedicated to the promotion of Queer culture, it is no wonder that Buddies in Bad Times is mounting the Canadian English-language premiere of Sarah Kane’s Blasted. Not only did the play deal with queer themes of sexuality, it also dealt with a situation of people that can be classified as outside of societal norms - queer. Instead of leaving the theatre elated by the performance I had seen; I was puzzled, confused, and slightly afraid.

Blasted deals with the complex relationship between Ian (David Ferry) and the much younger Cate (Michelle Monteith) beginning with their covert rendezvous in a hotel in Leeds. It is apparent that Ian’s age and power over Cate was a secret and that he is feeling the slip of his hold on her. Both Ferry and Monteith portray their respective characters with a strong sense of back-story; I could sense that the two had an odd and unique connection. It is clear that this relationship is not an accepted one in society. Monteith presents Cate with such a childish innocence that is then completely changed when Ian betrays her trust and wishes. Although not portrayed on stage, Ian rapes Cate when she insists that she must move on and that their sexual relationship is through.

Amidst their personal turmoil it becomes clear to audiences that the city has been attacked by a bomb when a soldier enters the hotel. Through his conversations with Ian, he soldier (Dylan Smith) reveals that the city is amidst a brutal war and he retells the atrocities of war. Ultimately the soldier rapes Ian and sucks out his eyes. The play continues to display controversial and at times uncomfortable acts including a beautifully disturbing performance by Ferry in a number of vignettes showing Ian’s masturbation, the eating of a dead baby, and his slow decay.

Despite running for an hour and forty-five minutes, not much seems to actually happen in Blasted. Instead of focusing on action, the play highlights the relationships of these three people and their reactions to the happenings around them. Arguably, having just one set (two if you wanted to get technical around the blasted version of the hotel room) feels like the play is more stagnant that it actually is. Often minutes went by without dialogue, bur rather a scene of real-time observation of how these characters were passing their time together.

In one of these particular moments at the beginning of the first act, Cate is left alone on stage while we hear Ian showering. Monteith highlights the hotel room’s appeal and simple beauty with her childish awe of the walls and bout of jumping on the bed. It seems like such a clean and safe space, contrary to the violating and disturbing acts that are to follow. After the blast the space is transformed into a dark and vast area, no longer resembling the pristine room from before, but rather it embodies the filth and deviance that the audience knows has and will occur there.

The graphic nature of the filth and deviance was a tough point in my viewing experience. I believe that it is much harder to leave a theatre when the work you are being presented makes you uncomfortable in comparison to turning off your television. I should tell you know that I’m a sensitive viewer in that graphic depictions make me uncomfortable; even watching the beginning credits of CSI makes me want to close my eyes. Having said this, I wouldn't identify myself as a conservative viewer either. Blasted’s depictions of rape and eye-removal made me squirm in my seat and hope that the worst had passed. Unfortunately, there was a lot more squirm inducing material throughout the piece.

As an audience member in the front row I was traumatized by not only watching Ian eat a dead baby, but by the piece of baby that was projected towards me as he spit it out. There is something about the reality of the actors on stage that made my already present weak stomach even weaker. It was as if I knew I could run up there and stop them, but societal norms reminded me to sit and soak in the piece I was being presented.

Similarly, the director Brendan Healy’s use of long bouts of darkness in between scenes created a sense of discomfort for me. Each break of darkness and the sound of rain seemed longer and louder, each pushing me to a larger state of uneasiness. Usually I love silence and darkness within a production, in fact, it excites me. Paired with the frightening nature of the production, however, I felt less than inclined to happily sit in the dark.

In the post-production talkback, Healy mentioned that it was important to illustrate the painfulness of being alive. I can empathize with the characters in the sense that watching their struggles on stage was hard both emotionally and physically for me. The performances and artistic choices were perhaps not of an esthetic that I subscribe, but were powerful nonetheless.

Leaving the theatre that night I didn’t have much to say. I was still in shock and perhaps I still am. I can see the artistic and political merit of staging Blasted, but could not manage to take much away from it after being alienated by the disturbing acts on stage. For that I wouldn’t suggest you see Blasted, or else you too might experience my theatrical nightmare.