thewonkydonkeyposts-blog

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The elephant.

So what has become clear is that we aren’t doing what we said we’d do. Or maybe we are, but it doesn’t feel so good.

We said we’d work using my disability as a starting point - a creative constraint from which to begin. We also said we were going to work with what we’d already made and “scratched” last year (about 20 minutes of material). We wanted to see if we could adapt Stupid Zoo and develop if further, finding a new process that works for me along the way.

What I’m coming to realise is that these two aims are paradoxical. How can we create work that takes my impairment as a point of departure if we are adapting a show we began before my first operation?

It’s clear to me that there are two different processes at stake here - there’s the creation of new work and there is using my disability creatively. Somehow these two processes have become separated; we have been adapting and developing the show, but it’s all material that only accounts for my impairment. And this is painful because it doesn’t really feel any different from everyday life. Everyday life means managing my pain. I often try to put it to the back of my mind and just get on with it or I have a shit day where I acknowledge the pain and the weight of it all and I lie in bed and look at the ceiling and feel the trace my tears make as they wend their way slowly down my cheekbones and into my ears.

A vital part of my making art, I feel, is to channel this painful journey somewhere creatively; an outlet that is transposed into something beautiful or moving or funny and hopefully all of these things (if you’re aiming big). I’m certainly not looking to create therapy on stage, but I think I’m hoping for some kind of therapy in the process perhaps; this could be a very cathartic time. But I’m not finding it thus because I’m still doing what I was doing before - putting my body to one side and making work regardless or adapting what we already have, which feels like something lesser.

That isn’t to say we have jeopardised the quality of the work - far from it. That was a prerequisite of adapting the show - we couldn’t let it suffer for it. So when I lesser, I really mean for me. My ability is reduced, so I feel reduced and I don’t feel free because we aren’t dealing with any of the baggage that comes with acquiring a disability. “Well we can’t do that bit like that now, so maybe you could do it standing still and I’ll do the moving bit?” or “That great idea we had, well you can’t do that so maybe we could try this instead?” It all feels a bit second best. Which definitely isn’t cathartic - quite the opposite in fact.

Clearly there is an elephant in the room. And we are acknowledging it and trying to be kind to it but we aren’t letting it speak. And it wants to speak. Probably it wants to shout and hit things for a while and wail and fall down and feel the enormous helpless hopelessness of it all and then it will speak.

So what are we going to do about it?

Well, we are figuring that out and feeling it out (which is usually better than figuring) and I think we are going to take what we have and polish it and make it into a delicious stupid morsel of around half an hour. And half an hour is good. I think it doesn’t actually need to be any longer; I’m always greatly in favour of work being the length it needs to be rather than how long people think it should be. Too many times have I sat through half an hour of a great idea fully formed and then another half hour of fluff because the makers wanted to fit into the classic “fringe hour”. Make it the length the idea asks for. Then stop.

So we will refine our hors d’oeuvres and also begin to work with what is. Of course I am still silly and stupid and Stupid Zoo feeds that bit of me. But there is another bit of me that is being silenced and can no longer be. So I will work solo on something that is only mine and Dom will work on something that is only his, because he has ideas for solo work too. And then we will see. These processes might run parallel or maybe we will finish Stupid Zoo and then work on the other stuff, it will depend how long the elephant can “hold that thought” for I suppose.

Perhaps one process will feed the other? Maybe we will end up with three shows! Or maybe we will end up with a fart in a teacup. And that will be ok too, in the end (it’ll have to be because there won’t be a choice in the matter, I can see that much). And at least we will know what was on the other side of that hill over there and I will know what the elephant wanted to say. Even if it’s only a a few whispered words.

[thewonkydonkeyposts-blog]

Dom and I had a little Wonky Donkey drawing session. If anyone out there is feeling creative and fancies sending their own interpretation over I’d be stoked! xx

[thewonkydonkeyposts-blog]

Disability, judgement, new connections and the “industry”.

We’ve been at the Civic for two weeks now and despite both of us battling (and losing) against some seriously nasty colds, we’ve covered a lot of ground. So much so in fact that I feel unsure of how to begin this post or what to cover.

My initial idea was that I would write a disability-focused blog post once a week. However, what has become clear is that just because you enter into a process focused on one aspect (how to work with my impairment), it doesn’t mean that all the other intriguing and challenging questions simply disappear; there are of course lots of other themes to consider in any creative process. 

In hindsight then, I think a weekly summary would make for some pretty convoluted and meandering scribblings and wouldn’t allow for any truly in-depth discussion of any of the individual themes that arise. With that in mind, it makes more sense to me to choose a particular topic or theme to blog about, regardless of the timeframe to which it refers.

I will begin with disability, judgement, new connections and the “industry”.

In the first few days of being here, we allowed ourselves to move, to play gently and land back in the devising space together, which felt necessary after eighteen months off. We played games and made each other laugh and it all felt good.

As we began to devise, I explored a new character or state I wanted to play with - the cat. Now it goes without saying that everyone can mimic or do an impression of a cat, we’re not interested in this. We wanted to see if I could embody the state of cat, to reduce its form to the very essence. Of course my body is not that of a cat, so how can we find the subtle nuances of behaviour and movement so that I am not simply ‘pretending to be a cat’ (which is boring and requires little skill). To achieve this ultimate state at a sustainable level (and by sustainable I mean at a level one could perform night after night for a 6 week tour), one must first go to 100% and then reduce it back down. At least, that’s what we did in our training.

But what if your body can’t go to 100% cat? In a previous version of myself, I would have used my intuition and freeness in my body to simply explore, probably expending a lot of energy in the process. I can’t do this anymore - I have to manage my movement so as not to cause pain or further injury. Managing play. Doesn’t sound fun. And that’s where the frustration lies; despite the initial joy of realising I can play at all, this block felt very real. My ‘100%’ has moved, that’s the crux of it. That’s what I have to accept.

Another barrier that I still feel I as a performer and we as a company are grappling with is energy levels and working hours. When I worked with devising companies before, we worked 10am-6pm each day and touring hours would be considerably longer. When training we would work an average ten hour day (often twelve or longer) for six days a week for six months at a time.

I can’t work like that anymore, I simply don’t have those energy levels. Whether it’s the constant pain, the painkillers that are also sedative, a body that is trying to heal itself or the mental energy of managing it all the time, I don’t know, but I am tired. I’m always tired. I need an absolute minimum of nine hours sleep (I used to be fine on seven) and more like ten or eleven to feel rested. If I get less than eight my pain levels for that day will be noticeably higher. It takes me a long time to wake up (my friends will laugh at this because I’ve never been a morning person, but this is different), possibly because of the sedative painkillers as I mentioned before, but maybe for all the other reasons too. And through the day I need more breaks.

So when we came into this process we told the Civic we would likely be in the space 10am-6pm every day. Well, it hasn’t worked quite like that. Most days we start at 10.30, sometimes even 11 and I have to take breaks to lie down and rest throughout the day. And even though I tell myself that this is fine and it’s what I need and the whole point of this time is to find a sustainable process that I can manage that doesn’t require weeks of recovery afterwards, I still feel ashamed. I worry people will think I’m lazy, that I don’t value the space we have been given and that I’m wasting the Arts Council’s precious money.

It also eliminates me from working with other companies, unless they have disabled performers with similar needs or a key accessibility policy built into their process. Most companies might have a two week R&D followed by a 4-6 week rehearsal followed by perhaps a run at Edinburgh (26 nights on the trot,  with one night off if you’re lucky) and if it’s successful, a London transfer and a 3-6 week tour. You need to be travelling to rehearsals and working long hours when you get there. 

So I am not employable. Despite my degree, my two years professional training plus all the experience I have, there isn’t the time or the money for companies to double their rehearsal time and tour schedule to allow me to recuperate. And though I love making my own work, of course I want to collaborate with other people, I’m a professional actor at the end of the day - I want to work!

We spoke about this with Paula Brooke from Dark Horse Theatre when we met up with her after seeing the company’s current show You Have Been Watching, which I reviewed for Theatre Bubble. We spoke about their training programme, how they make work and support their actors.

The energy levels question was certainly something she experienced in working with actors with learning disabilities, both in their training programme and when creating shows; the boundaries are shifted. And for her what is important is that it’s not lesser, its just different. 

We spoke too about the industry and how it calls for long hours of high energy ability and how if one of their actors gets an audition in London, it isn’t as simple as hopping on a train last minute, it takes a lot of organisation. And if there’s a second audition or a recall at short notice, it might be that they simply can’t go. The industry isn’t set up for people who need time to plan or time to rest, because there isn’t any - time I mean. It all feels pretty exclusionary.

On the flip side of this, when I’m having a good day, I also worry. I may wake up and think “Oh, I’m not in pain right now, that’s nice”, I might not need to use my crutches as much today. And even on a bad day, I can usually potter over to the kitchen (about 5 metres) from the door of the studio we are in to make cup of tea and potter back. Some days I can even walk at my usual pace for a little while and there are plenty of movements I can do no problem - I can stand, move any part of my torso or arms, bend from the waist, even balance on one leg. I just can’t lift my knee to my chest, squat, crawl, kneel, sit, jump, run or walk very far.

But if I do the things I can do, or walk a short distance without my sticks, I can feel people thinking “Hang on! She’s on crutches, but she just walked - she must be a fraud!” It’s almost as though I end up feeling not disabled enough to warrant the needs I have. I even end up using my sticks when I don’t need to so that people won’t think me just an attention-seeking lier.

A little while ago I read a wonderful article that (even though it’s about visual impairment), resonated so strongly with me because it deals with just this problem - the perceived binary nature of disability: https://www.theguardian.com/lifeandstyle/2016/nov/14/the-way-i-see-it-living-with-partial-blindness-rp

I have spoken too, with a friend of mine who has cerebral palsy and uses a wheel chair, though she isn’t “wheelchair bound”. She can walk up stairs and move about, but it’s utterly exhausting. That’s another element to manage - I may not need to use my sticks in that moment because I have little pain and I’m having a good day, but what about later? I have to constantly monitor my actions now, to not incapacitate myself later or tomorrow.

And, what if, one day, I do get better? Well, of course that would be wonderful, it’s what I fantasise about regularly. But what about this work and this process? Will I have to give the money and the time and space back because it wasn’t real after all - it was only a temporary thing I just had to wait out? It feels like a minefield; all of these questions and worries float around me daily. And each day I try to be kind, follow my energy and keep playing - concentrate on what is now, because really, it feels like the only way forward.

[thewonkydonkeyposts-blog]

Here’s our first video for the blog, I’ll be writing up some of my experiences from the first two weeks of devising very soon...x

[thewonkydonkeyposts-blog]

Who. What. Why.

As my first post I’d like to explain a little about why I have started this blog. 

My name is Saskia, I am a physical theatre maker and performer who, only ten months after graduating from theatre school (July 2014) developed a physical disability. In the last eighteen months I have had two major operations to try to solve the problem (in my hip), neither of which have been successful (yet) and as such, I have had to learn to live without the mobility I grew up and trained with. I now walk with crutches and have been unable to work since May 2016. 

The implications of this reduction in movement, not to mention the chronic pain, the hospital visits, the physio and hydro, injections and pills has been huge. I am a person who lives through their body; my passion, my work, my core is moving - without that I really don’t know who I am. Losing my independence and the ability to do most of the things that bring me pleasure and define who I am has been crushing; my sense of self and my confidence have been completely eroded. I have also acquired a new identity: I am a person who walks with sticks and that is now the first thing people notice about me. It is also often the first thing they ask about: “What did you do to your leg?” is usually the first thing people say to me, even before asking my name. I have struggled with how to express the confused anger I have felt in what has been a traumatic time, especially in relation to this - a new identity that I see as having been forced upon me. The social anxiety that has come as a result of this has also been difficult to manage; I find myself not wanting to meet new people for fear of being asked again and again, having this identity carved into me. This is not who I am, this is not who I am.

So what now?

After what seems a lifetime of pain and feeling like a living oxymoron (a physically disabled physical theatre performer), my creative partner, Domenico, and I have an opportunity to try to create again. Just before my first operation we created a new company: Paper Whale Theatre and began working on our first piece - a very stupid absurd physical comedy based around different animals, which we called Stupid Zoo. We ‘scratched’ (did a work-in-progress sharing of) about thirty minutes at the Civic Theatre in Barnsley and were chuffed to receive some really positive feedback. Unfortunately we haven’t been able to work on the show since then (though we’ve been brewing a lot of ideas) and have been stuck in an awful kind of limbo hinterland whilst waiting for me to be well enough to work again. Well, that hasn’t happened yet, so I took it upon myself to decide that we will work again and we will work now! I can’t wait around forever for a hypothetical future that isn’t this; we have to find a process I can manage and that uses my disability as a creative constraint, rather than something that excludes me from my own practice. We have to find the pleasure to play again and to build a show that I can perform now, as the wonky donkey that I am. 

So we applied to the Civic’s residency scheme and were very excited to be selected as one of their four Artists in Residence for the year. You can see the website and the other artists here: http://www.barnsleycivic.co.uk/artists/commissions-opportunities/carp-artists-2017   

AND after around six weeks of weeping at my computer screen, we received the phenomenal news that...drum roll...we got our Arts Council England grant! Which means we can pay ourselves, our supporting artists and designer, buy props and generally feel like valued human beings, which as artists in this strange world, feels all too rare. Starting 2nd October, we have six weeks of supported space at the Civic to find a process and hopefully a show that I can perform.

This blog offers me a space to log and share our process (through writing, poetry, video, photos, interviews, drawings and scribbles), but what I really hope is that it will be a place to connect with other artists who have worked with disability (either their own or that of others). I’d love to hear how other people have used their disability (be it physical or otherwise) in their creativity, especially, though certainly not exclusively, if it’s a disability they have acquired or that has a degenerative quality. I would love to connect with performers, creators, companies, writers, directors and audiences to begin a discussion about disability in theatre and in the wider arts community.  I have felt like an alien these past two years and I hope to create a space where other people can feel welcomed to share their experiences - all bodies are creative bodies no matter how wonky they are. So please, get in touch and share this with anyone you think might be interested. And thanks for reading, love Saskia (the Wonky Donkey). x

You can follow the company on Twitter: @paper_whale and on Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/paperwhaletheatre/