Rambert School Clowndance Intensive 2023
MONDAY: Play
The first day of the intensive was themed around the idea of play. This is where I like to start with any project, any process I am leading, to set up the principle that we can be immersed and fully invested in what we are doing, without the need for it to become too serious or intellectualised. It also allows me as the session leader (or teacher, or director, depending on the context) to play the games on an equal footing with the participants, students or performers, and undermine some of the conventional status differences right from the get-go.
In fact, we were so beautifully engaged in what we were doing, and having so much fun, that I forgot to take any photos or video! I will attempt to paint some pictures for you here instead, in the moments I’ve pulled out.
In fact, we were so beautifully engaged in what we were doing, and having so much fun, that I forgot to take any photos or video! I will attempt to paint some pictures for you here instead, in the moments I’ve pulled out.
Material Covered:
After introducing ourselves and having a quick discussion about what we were excited about and nervous about for the forthcoming week, we quickly got to moving. I opened as usual with walking in the space, moving through a little experiential anatomy visualisation and into games. We played:
After introducing ourselves and having a quick discussion about what we were excited about and nervous about for the forthcoming week, we quickly got to moving. I opened as usual with walking in the space, moving through a little experiential anatomy visualisation and into games. We played:
- The One Moving at a Time Game, adapted from a game by John Wright (2006) which introduces ideas of complicité and trickery.
- The Find the Game Game, which has been a stalwart of mine for many years; a long form improvisation-based game where we simply follow impulses and see what evolves.
- The Object Talent Show, another old favourite originally inspired by workshops with puppeteer Rene Baker (2005), which asks the players to invest in something silly as if it were very serious, and introduces some interaction with an audience.
- Grandmother’s Footsteps, the children’s playground game, recontextualised as an opportunity to explore the joy of cheating. I’ve played it in this clown frame with Mick Barnfather (2012).
Moment 1:
As we played The One Moving at a Time Game, the movement evolved very naturally from walking to dancelike material and then onto something more playful, teasing and putting each other in the shit, without my needing to prompt it.
The evolution came about partly because of something accidental; Kestrel was getting hot and wanted to remove their bodywarmer, but wasn’t sure whether doing so counted as ‘movement’ or not. They stopped halfway through unzipping it and looked to me for clarification, whereupon someone else took advantage of the pause to start to move through the space. When the mover stopped, Kestrel finished unzipping the bodywarmer and removed it, this time with a sense of conviction, clearly using the action as their turn at moving. The next person to move used their turn to put the bodywarmer straight back on Kestrel, but this time zipping their arms inside it, so they had to continue the game both hot and effectively straightjacketed.
As we played The One Moving at a Time Game, the movement evolved very naturally from walking to dancelike material and then onto something more playful, teasing and putting each other in the shit, without my needing to prompt it.
The evolution came about partly because of something accidental; Kestrel was getting hot and wanted to remove their bodywarmer, but wasn’t sure whether doing so counted as ‘movement’ or not. They stopped halfway through unzipping it and looked to me for clarification, whereupon someone else took advantage of the pause to start to move through the space. When the mover stopped, Kestrel finished unzipping the bodywarmer and removed it, this time with a sense of conviction, clearly using the action as their turn at moving. The next person to move used their turn to put the bodywarmer straight back on Kestrel, but this time zipping their arms inside it, so they had to continue the game both hot and effectively straightjacketed.
Moment 2:
I had forewarned the group that we would be playing The Find the Game Game for longer than might initially feel comfortable, that there might be a moment that felt like an ending not long in, but to try to ride past that point, as that’s usually when the good stuff kicks in.
To their surprise (but not mine!) we played for 55 minutes, with the lull point where I sensed that they felt it could be over coming 20 minutes in. When I told them this they were fascinated to know at what point in the game this had come, a question no group has asked before. I said I didn’t know, but we guessed together that it would have been during a silent moment.
The game itself was noisy and anarchic, with a reoccurring interest in our socks that ran through many of the games within the game:
I had forewarned the group that we would be playing The Find the Game Game for longer than might initially feel comfortable, that there might be a moment that felt like an ending not long in, but to try to ride past that point, as that’s usually when the good stuff kicks in.
To their surprise (but not mine!) we played for 55 minutes, with the lull point where I sensed that they felt it could be over coming 20 minutes in. When I told them this they were fascinated to know at what point in the game this had come, a question no group has asked before. I said I didn’t know, but we guessed together that it would have been during a silent moment.
The game itself was noisy and anarchic, with a reoccurring interest in our socks that ran through many of the games within the game:
- Socks were stinky and should be covered up (a challenge for me, wearing leggings) and Mistlethrush was banished to the adjoining studio for not covering theirs.
- Socks should be removed, and could be twanged into the air for each other to catch
- Socks could be placed on Finch’s ears, held in place with hairbands, to turn them into a tragic heroine with long hair, to the theme song from Titanic
- Socks were objects of great reverence, piled into a sock shrine, which we danced around
- Socks could be passed from one person to another by balancing them on our heads and leaning over to transfer them
- Socks placed on the backs of people lying on their stomachs turned them into a musical instrument, played by two people while another conducted
- Socks, followed by a range of other clothing, could be placed on an impromptu supermarket conveyor belt, created from a ballet barre, and scanned through the till with a beep
Play seems to exist outside of time
It’s nice to watch people work things out and watch people watching
What’s the game is the best game!!!
Reflective Roll notes: 30/10/23
It’s nice to watch people work things out and watch people watching
What’s the game is the best game!!!
Reflective Roll notes: 30/10/23
Moment 3
After a couple of rounds of Grandmother’s Footsteps- the playground game where players have to creep up on granny while her back is turned, and freeze when she turns to look at them- I observed that everybody was playing very fairly, and suggested that they might cheat. The dancers asked if cheating was allowed, to which I replied ‘no, but…’
After this provocation we all cheated with relish, hiding behind other people, sabotaging anyone in the lead by nudging or wobbling them, and refusing to go all the way back to the start when caught by granny. The final granny realised that in fact they could cheat too, that there was no reason why they had to stand still, and that by moving they both got a better view and made it much harder for the others to catch them.
After a couple of rounds of Grandmother’s Footsteps- the playground game where players have to creep up on granny while her back is turned, and freeze when she turns to look at them- I observed that everybody was playing very fairly, and suggested that they might cheat. The dancers asked if cheating was allowed, to which I replied ‘no, but…’
After this provocation we all cheated with relish, hiding behind other people, sabotaging anyone in the lead by nudging or wobbling them, and refusing to go all the way back to the start when caught by granny. The final granny realised that in fact they could cheat too, that there was no reason why they had to stand still, and that by moving they both got a better view and made it much harder for the others to catch them.
I used the tightly structured feedback language I have been developing over the last few workshops to ask the dancers to reflect on the games after we played them, before opening the discussion up more freely at the end as we wrote on the reflective roll and personal post-its.
We talked about what we mean by a game, and whether it really differs from a choreographic task in anything other than name. We thought that perhaps it does, but only because of expectations arising from the context, and the feeling we have while doing it. It’s a game because you feel that you’re playing, it’s a task because you feel that you’re dancing, even if what is actually happening is identical. Someone brilliantly defined a game as ‘making problems for yourself to solve’, and we wondered whether a dance technique could in fact be defined in the same way.
Several of them asked me detailed questions about clowning; how it is taught, practiced and thought about and by whom, none of which I particularly wanted to talk about. I thought afterwards about how these students want to learn stuff from me, even if I don’t want to explicitly teach them stuff, but rather to create the conditions for them to learn stuff for themselves. I used to treat questions like these as a threat to my authority as a pedagogue; that I had to have the answers or they wouldn’t respect me, my knowledge, my right to ask them to do things. I think and hope that as my confidence and experience have grown, so too has my ability to feel comfortable not knowing all the answers. Nevertheless, learning and teaching is another unspoken contract, like that between audiences and performers. I’m now thinking about how much of a boundary students need, and how much knowledge I need to appear to possess to help them feel secure in this relationship.
We talked about what we mean by a game, and whether it really differs from a choreographic task in anything other than name. We thought that perhaps it does, but only because of expectations arising from the context, and the feeling we have while doing it. It’s a game because you feel that you’re playing, it’s a task because you feel that you’re dancing, even if what is actually happening is identical. Someone brilliantly defined a game as ‘making problems for yourself to solve’, and we wondered whether a dance technique could in fact be defined in the same way.
Several of them asked me detailed questions about clowning; how it is taught, practiced and thought about and by whom, none of which I particularly wanted to talk about. I thought afterwards about how these students want to learn stuff from me, even if I don’t want to explicitly teach them stuff, but rather to create the conditions for them to learn stuff for themselves. I used to treat questions like these as a threat to my authority as a pedagogue; that I had to have the answers or they wouldn’t respect me, my knowledge, my right to ask them to do things. I think and hope that as my confidence and experience have grown, so too has my ability to feel comfortable not knowing all the answers. Nevertheless, learning and teaching is another unspoken contract, like that between audiences and performers. I’m now thinking about how much of a boundary students need, and how much knowledge I need to appear to possess to help them feel secure in this relationship.
The more you let a process happen the better it will be
The impossible is fun
Being playful and silly is good for you(r soul)
Cheating is for winners
I always felt engaged and really happy and curious about what was next
The commitment to the action is more important than the act itself
The more play = the more comfortable I felt in the space
Reflective Roll notes: 30/10/23
I feel really good because I felt that there was no expectation and it made me feel more appreciated by just authentically being myself without thinking.
I love enjoying the playing and being open to laughing but I’ve noticed it’s difficult for me to keep a straight face even when it aids the gag to do it seriously.
I’ve noticed I didn’t want to get tasks wrong
It’s nice to not feel a pressure to laugh. Things can be unfunny & sometimes that’s funny
Personal Post-It notes: 30/10/23
The impossible is fun
Being playful and silly is good for you(r soul)
Cheating is for winners
I always felt engaged and really happy and curious about what was next
The commitment to the action is more important than the act itself
The more play = the more comfortable I felt in the space
Reflective Roll notes: 30/10/23
I feel really good because I felt that there was no expectation and it made me feel more appreciated by just authentically being myself without thinking.
I love enjoying the playing and being open to laughing but I’ve noticed it’s difficult for me to keep a straight face even when it aids the gag to do it seriously.
I’ve noticed I didn’t want to get tasks wrong
It’s nice to not feel a pressure to laugh. Things can be unfunny & sometimes that’s funny
Personal Post-It notes: 30/10/23
Bibliography
Baker, R. (2005) ‘Puppetry workshops’. Royal Central School of Speech and Drama.
Barnfather, M. (2012) ‘Clown workshop for Wriggle Dance Theatre’. The Core at Corby Cube.
Wright, J. (2006) Why is that so funny? a practical exploration of physical comedy. London: Nick Hern Books.
|
|
|
|