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A new performance inspired by slides of a family trip to Banff National Park. Blending sonic reverberations with performance installation, ‘remarkable concussions’ releases memories of the snow to be sensed, sounded, and mixed with imaginative wanderings, created by Mirae Rosner and prOphecy sun.
This show is a part of of Mirae Rosner’s Parks Canada series – an ongoing set of performance and video investigations into the relationships between bodies and landscapes. Previous developments have occurred in collaboration with dancer Holly Holt and media artist Jesse Scott, including I am a star: universal landscape detection methodology, a video performance that aims to mimic scientific instruments with the sensing body.
Remarkable Concussions and Other Memories of the Snow 7:00PM August 4th, 2012 Hammock Residency (1923 Graveley) RSVP on Facebook
Hammock Residency is an emergent based arts residency program, where artists spend time with their ideas, and if they want to, present them.
WATER includes professional and emerging artists with or without developmental, physical, or mental health issues, gender or language challenges.
Directed by Susanna Uchatius & James Coomber with puppetry by Tim Gosley (Puppeteer Master of The Muppets fame). WATER tells the story of one river-the gods that fought, the fish that swam, the fishermen that fished, the water-carriers that fetched and water buyers who bought; all deeply affecting the very life and soul of the river’s flow. With songs, dance, celebrations, large puppetry, raging passions, and live music- the rivers journey in WATER is a microcosm of civilization’s greatest and most precious element on this planet.
Katie Stewart: What is your involvement in WATER?
James Coomber: I’m a co-director, composer, and musician. Over the past year, Susanna and I have incorporated mythological, environmental, and theatrical ideas and facts and woven them together to create the play.
KS: As a site-specific play in East Van, WATER intentionally extends open invitation for people just walking by to come into the audience to observe the play. What has been the response so far to the production?
JC: We definitely have people who come specifically for the show… some who have been with Theatre Terrific for a good while, and others who are new to knowing the company. But we also have a wide range of people who wander through the park, or hear the music nearby, and just stop by to see what exactly is going on. Some of my favourite moments have been when a stranger stumbles into the audience, sees the big fish puppet, and has a great big smile on their face.
KS: It what ways is it different from anything you’ve ever done before?
JC: Susanna and I have been honing in on our collaborative process, so much so that the music and the action become tangled in a beautiful web of action and reaction. There are characters and scenes that have been developed from one specific sound, and other scenes where dialogue was formed from a person’s unique challenge with their voice.
KS: Tell us a bit about the exciting projects you have on the horizon?
JC: One project that is coming up in September is a 10 minute opera that I’ve been working on with Dave Deveau. It’s called Unnatural, and it focuses on differences in LGBT rights for two strangers from different contenants. It’s part of Tom Cone’s Opera Project, where Tom has paired 5 composers and 5 librettists to create 5 10-minute operas. It’s going to be a great night! I’ll also be working on Theatre Terrific’s Fringe show, titled Pantaloon’s Pawn Shop. Expect something strange, quirky, surprising, and full of some more great music.
Water
2PM, July 7th & 8th Andy Livingston Park (89 Expo Blvd @ Carrall St). Wheelchair accessible. Bring a chair or blanket, and perhaps a picnic. Suggested donation $10
It’s a sunny Spring evening. I’m in the warehouse that houses the office and work space of the Electric Company in East Van to interview its Artistic Director, Kevin Kerr. I’m here mostly to talk about Kerr’s 2006 play, Studies in Motion, based on the life and work of the revolutionary photographer-scientist Eadweard Muybridge, whose photographic studies of human and animal locomotion stand at the dividing line between still photography and film. The conversation ends up roving far and wide across theatre, art and truth.
While he speaks, though, my eye keeps being drawn to two items on the overstuffed shelves behind his head: a book entitled Lucid Dreaming, and a box for the game Twister. There’s something about these two artifacts that sum up what Electric Company is. Dreams. Memory. Pure physical energy.
Muybridge was, as Kerr puts it, ‘an enigmatic character’—landscape photographer turned scientist, his photographs were produced using a series of cameras shooting in sequence. He produced approximately 100,000 images between 1883 and 1886. This body of work (of which 20,000 images were published in plates available to subscribers) revolutionized the way that physical locomotion was understood.
But, though this was what Kerr stumbled upon originally—in the form of a series of VHS cassettes containing strung-together animations of the plates—it was Eadweard Muybridge the man that drew his attention to the ‘theatrical possibilities’ of his story. As Kerr watched the cassettes, he felt that ‘a sense of obsession began to emanate from’ them, which he initially put down to some kind of Walt Whitman-esque fascination with the human body. What he found couldn’t have been further from that impression. He discovered an awkward, intensely serious man with a failed marriage who had murdered his wife’s lover (an act followed by an acquittal on the basis of justifiable homicide)—‘It just felt like melodrama,’ says Kerr.
He goes on to describe his fascination with ‘this interesting duality between these motion studies which seemed to be very clinical…everything stripped away from the actions. Everything’s sort of— All sorts of indicators of intention are stripped away… They seemed to be very anti-narrative. They were just actions, raw.’
At this point Kerr seems lost in the world of the ideas for a moment. ”There’s this curious sort of choice of actions’—action that, in the human studies, contain substantial themes of ‘sensuality, eroticism, humor, and violence’. Kerr realized that the ‘photos felt like a metaphoric attempt to atomize life’—actions that weren’t ‘corrupted by emotions’. An attempt to get to some kind of unadulterated truth about the violence in Muybridge’s past by fragmenting the complexities of similar motions until each moment could be studied individually: ‘rearranged and assembled to suit yourself’.
What does all this say to a modern theatre audience looking for a meaningful experience? Kerr observes this moment in history as ‘a point in the ongoing birth of a really visually oriented culture… We’re pretty skeptical about our physical perception of the world as being a source for our understanding of our total truth. Or the idea of truth being outside of us, I guess—it’s the contemporary kind of thing—you separate the human subjective experience from the notion of truth. And Muybridge’s work was one big part of an ongoing series of events that convinced us that truth was not available to us except through science and technology. So that there are things that we can’t—we’re not afforded the ability to see without some sort of mechanism or medium that will lift the veil off of nature and give us insight, and so today we are all about the things that we use to negotiate our world and that we turn to, to give us truth, like MRIs or some Google algorithm.’ Or a photograph. Evidence.
I ask him, ‘As an artist, are you creating something that replaces people’s ways of processing events for themselves?’ This is not a new question for Kevin Kerr, or for Electric Company. He counters: ‘Art can be one of those agents that installs itself into your being’—‘art that sedates us and assures us… On the other hand, the other version of art is the art that shocks and stimulates us; that tears that membrane open and allows us to see the world in a new way…’
Kerr articulates for himself and for us that ‘art is experiential at its core’. The vibrant, image-rich, site-specific theatre for which Electric Company is well-known demonstrates this concept to its fullest. The upcoming ‘You are Very Star’ at the H.R. MacMillan Planetarium, following last year’s (now touring) ‘Tear the Curtain’ devised around Vancouver’s historic Stanley Theatre, promises an opportunity to enter a lucid dream with Electric Company. Let’s just hope that Twister stays up on the shelf behind Kevin Kerr’s head.
Rachel Aberle and Adrian Glynn McMorran, by David Cooper
In 1974, Leonard Cohen was asked why his album New Skin for the Old Ceremony was a failure in North America and the U.K. but a success in Europe. “Maybe it’s because they can’t understand my lyrics,” he replied. Both Cohen’s self-deprecating wit and the achingly sad poetry of his lyrics are on display in Tracy Power’s play Chelsea Hotel, which is at Firehall Arts Centre (280 E. Cordova St) until March 3. Chelsea Hotel adds inventive dance pieces and impressionistic storytelling to Leonard Cohen’s classic songs, often totally revamping their musical arrangements so fresh associations are created. The young cast scampers around a set made of paper filled with discarded poetry drafts, while adeptly switching off on an astounding variety of instruments. Adrian Glynn McMorran stars as the Writer, who acts out romantic regret and creative struggle and sings beautifully. His solo turn, a wrenching rendition of Tonight Will Be Fine, is a show highlight.
Theatregoers familiar with Cohen’s work will hear new and often faster paced versions of his songs, such as a sexy cabaret-infused I’m Your Man and an ironic hard-rocking take on American Idol favorite Hallelujah. The cast’s voices are very, well, different from Cohen’s self-admitted limited range. Neophytes to Cohen will find Chelsea Hotel an excellent introduction to Canada’s unofficial Poet Laureate. And any audience should relish the opportunity to appreciate the depth and beauty of Cohen’s catalogue.
Rachel Aberle is a cast standout, playing a Sister of Mercy – a combination nun, nurse, and muse – with playfulness and intelligence. Sadmag spoke to Rachel Aberle about Leonard Cohen’s current caché, wanting to be a muse, and the state of the theater scene in Vancouver.
Sad Mag: How familiar were you with Cohen’s work before you started Chelsea Hotel? how did your relationship to his work evolve as you were doing the play?
Rachel Aberle: To be honest, I wasn’t super familiar with Cohen prior to this summer when I started to do some research for the auditions. I was familiar with Hallelujah, as I guess pretty much everyone in North America is – but to be honest, the version I was familiar with first was the Jeff Buckley version – which I loved. I remember when I finally heard a recording of Cohen singing Hallelujah thinking, “This is awful! This guy can’t sing!” This was several years ago, in my late teens. The cast is all within about 10 years of each other in age, and we all talked about how Cohen’s voice was something that put us off when we were younger, that it’s something we’ve grown to appreciate as we’ve grown into adulthood. Can’t remember who, but one of the cast said at a talk-back that “Cohen’s not for kids,” and I think there’s something to that.
Through working on the show I’ve come to appreciate him so much, not only in terms of music, but in terms of incredible poetry. I’ve always been a pretty lyrics driven listener, and for that you can’t get much better than Cohen. He was a poet before he was a songwriter, and it shows.
SM: Yeah, i think that’s one of the great things in the show. You can appreciate the lyrics as a captive audience
?RA: that’s great to hear. It’s been a really interesting process to connect such poetic language to some kind of playable acting
SM: Were there any Leonard Cohen songs that you wish had been used in the play, or that you rehearsed and didn’t use?
RA: Those decisions were made before I came on board. We did change and add some of the poetry used in the piece – just certain pieces getting moved around or shortened or changed to other things that Tracey felt told the story and got the audience on board faster and more effectively than what she had originally chosen. Because my knowledge of Cohen was admittedly pretty low before the show, and because we use so many songs (27 to be precise) there aren’t any that I wish were there that aren’t.
SM: Were the writer’s lines in between songs also snippets of cohen poetry?
RA: Yes. Every word spoken or sung in the show comes from Cohen.
?SM: OK, a couple more Cohen questions…Do you have a favorite song? Or a favorite line from his lyrics?
RA: I love Tonight Will Be Fine. I think the chorus speaks to something so profound and so honest about feelings that linger long after one might hope they would. More specifically the line “We swore to each other our love would surely last/You went right on loving, and I went on a fast/Now I am too thin and your love is too vast.” I feel like I’ve been on both ends of that statement – probably everyone has at some point. That feeling of regret, wishing you could feel things that you don’t, or that feelings you have could be matched, when they can’t.
I also think that Famous Blue Raincoat is one of the most beautifully heartbreaking songs I’ve ever heard. I’ve never listened to a song that made me sad so repeatedly.
SM: What do you think Leonard Cohen means to Canadians of your generation? How is it different from how he’s viewed by baby boomers?
?RA: To be honest, I don’t think Leonard Cohen means much to most of our generation, and I hope that changes. I wonder partly if it’s because so much of his music has been so widely covered by other artists, but I know for many people our age that I’ve talked to about this show, the most common response has been that they’re not that familiar with Leonard Cohen — which, prior to the show, was pretty much the case for me as well. I think a lot of people my age think of Cohen as someone that their parents listen to, that they weren’t that into when they were kids.
Hopefully it’s like a lot of music that’s just too mature for younger audiences, and people start to give it a listen now that they’re old enough to understand what the hell he’s talking about. I feel like it’s the kind of music people in their twenties should be listening to all the time. One of my friend’s fathers saw the show and said afterwards that he was tearing up through most of the first act because it brought back so many memories from his twenties. He said you don’t feel those incredible highs and lows forever. I think that’s probably what it means to a lot of people my parents’ age – it’s a reminder of the later years of their youth. His lyrics capture so perfectly what incredible love and incredible loss mean, but at a deeper level that anything you feel at adolescence. The love is vast because you’re old enough to feel like it actually means something real, and the loss is devastating, because it feels like a much deeper investment that’s come up dry.
SM: What instruments can you play? Did you have to learn any for the show?
?RA: Oh the instruments…
I played the cello regularly for about 11 years, but those years were between age 4 and 15… so a bit of it’s in the “riding a bike” camp, in that I learned so young that some of that knowledge will never go way, but I also had been out of practice for so long until about this time last year that my musicianship is definitely still a work in progress in my opinion.
I started playing the ukulele this summer for the fun of it. I played the piano in high school, and actually got to a pretty high level, but have been out of practice so long that it’s really crumbled back into a pretty rudimentary skill
And the bass guitar, which I play in the show – I had never touched until our workshops for the show in early December. Our first day of rehearsal Steve said, “Rachel, how do you feel about playing bass on [First We Take] Manhattan?” I said, “Well, I’m willing to try, but just so we’re all on the same page here, I’ve literally never even tried before.” Steve paused for a second and then said, “Oh yeah. I think you’ll be fine.” I leave that to the audience to judge. The more work I get in theatre, the more I’m starting to feel like half of the battle is deciding what you’re crazy enough to agree to try, and then dealing with the fallout of that agreement.
SM: Have you done much musical theatre before?
?RA: I’ve done a bit. I was one of those kids in high school that was really into musical theatre, and then I sort of drifted away from it when I went to university, and then to theatre school. I’d pretty much stopped thinking of myself as a musical theatre performer. Then in the last year all the shows I’ve wound up doing, while they haven’t all been full musicals, they have been full of music, and have required me to sing.
SM: What was it like growing up immersed in the theatre world? Did you always know you wanted to be an actor, or did you ever have phases of rebelling and wanting to go into business or something bourgeois like that?
RA: I had bouts of thinking that maybe I wanted to be a writer, and for a time even a lawyer – I don’t think they came from a place of rebellion however (and you couldn’t really call becoming a writer bourgeois). Growing up with a Dad who was in theatre taught me from a young age that it was a possibility – that the idea of trying to pursue a career in theatre (while maybe still insane) wasn’t impossible. People did it. Having that knowledge meant that I never went through the phase of thinking “Well, yeah, I want to be an actor, but nobody actually does that… so what am I going to do for real?”
?SM: And I bet a lot of your peers did go through that phase, right?
RA: Yeah – I mean when I think of the people I went to high school with who I did theatre with, I don’t think many of them are doing it any more. And to be fair, for some of them it was never something that they wanted to pursue after high school – but I do wonder how many more young people might consider going into theatre, or music, or any artistic field for that matter, if it dawned on them that it was a viable option.
SM: How do you feel about the current state of the theatre scene in Vancouver?
?RA: That is a tough question to answer. I guess what I would say is that I know for sure that I’ve been incredibly lucky with the opportunities that I’ve had, not only because opportunities are scant (and that’s true of theatre anywhere), but also because the projects I’ve gotten to work on have all been very fulfilling, and very different from each other, and have all involved incredible people. Of course I wish there was more funding – that should go without saying but unfortunately we need to keep saying it, and keep saying it, and then say it some more. And I wish I could figure out what would get the average Vancouverite more interested in seeing plays.
There is so much to do in this city. I get why on a sunny day people want to go to third beach, and I get why on a rainy day people are more interested in going up on a mountain where it’s snowing and riding boards and skis back down the mountain. What I wish for is a way to make people who are interested in those things also interested in sitting down and watching some fantastic storytelling. I would like to figure out a way to build the theatre into the recreational vocabulary of this city … I’m just not sure how.
SM: In Chelsea Hotel you play a muse. Have you ever been a muse? Or had a muse?
RA: (laughs) If I’ve ever been a muse, nobody told me. In terms of having a muse, I’ve definitely wrote some things based on or about people that have come in and out of my life – and I’ve definitely used relationships I’ve had with people as a way to connect with material I’ve worked on as an actor.
SM: Is it strange singing the same songs over and over again? Do you start making up your own versions of the songs?
?RA: It hasn’t seemed strange yet, and I think part of that is that the material is so rich that there are a lot of new things to find every day. I have an unfortunate habit of replacing words with other words completely subconsciously, and have definitely sang the words, “Suppose that he froze when the wind took his NOSE,” instead of, “CLOTHES” a few times in rehearsal, and once while rehearsing Take this Waltz I sang “I’ll bury my soul in a sandwich” rather than “bury my soul in a scrapbook.” But intentionally? No, I’m happy with the material so far
SM: (laughs) Sandwich!
RA: I know, I always think that if those were the lyrics it would mean that she dealt with the break up by eating her feelings.
?SM: It’s a good Freudian slip, something to sing when you are hungry.
?RA: Right?
SM: Right!
Chelsea Hotel
Firehall Arts Centre (280 East Cordova)
Now until March 3rd, 2012
$25 regular, $20 students and seniors Ticket info here
A new performance inspired by slides of a family trip to Banff National Park. Blending sonic reverberations with performance installation, ‘remarkable concussions’ releases memories of the snow to be sensed, sounded, and mixed with imaginative wanderings, created by Mirae Rosner and prOphecy sun.
WATER includes professional and emerging artists with or without developmental, physical, or mental health issues, gender or language challenges.
