Out of the rain, into the galleries

I had a clear timetable today, so got to explore some of the galleries in the city. Dublin's National gallery sits right next to the grounds of Trinity College and offers a free and broad range of works by Europeans, especially over the past four hundred years...and now I'm kicking myself because I'm going to highlight my ignorance by talking about a particular piece without knowing the name of the artist. Still, must mention it because it grabbed me so...it was a piece painted by an artist who strongly influenced the cubist movement in the early 20th century, a depiction of the crucifixion, and not particularly liked (as I observed) by a lot of the general public milling around the gallery. I, on the other hand, loved it. Maybe because it mentioned mathematical terminology like 'Translation and Rotation'. I am currently teaching secondary science to pupils at the Northicote school in Wolverhampton, so the cross-over if the arts and science always grabs my attention. I also started to think about the definition of the term 'translation' in both maths and literature. In maths it is simply moving a geometric shape from one place to another, without it altering. In the painting (as in literature) it was a little less clear than a direct translation...and so an internal debate commences, not just about semantics but also about subjectivity. The 'observer effect' is a term both known in science and in the arts and it simply states 'the act of observing something, changes the thing you're observing'. So if (in science) you measure the temperature of something with a thermometer, holding the thermometer will effect the temperature reading on the instrument, thus effecting the reading...in art it is a little more complex as we get into subjectivity, but as an artist it is reassuring that you can't please all the people all the time...so it's best just to please yourself!

The other gallery I visited struck me with a far greater resonance. It was the Hugh Lane gallery in Parnell Square, just around the corner from my hotel. (Just as an aside, there are digital boards around the city - one outside this particular gallery - depicting digital women in short skirts, walking, sauntering, and swaying their hips from side to side. I must admit when I first arrived and saw this outside the gallery, I thought maybe Script had put me up next to strip club...). Anyway! In the Hugh Lane gallery there is an exhibition of Francis Bacon's work, something I haven't come across before, and something I've very pleased to have discovered...if you've never come across this artist before I suggest you look him up. Born in Dublin to English parents his work is something born from the subconscious and very evocative...I'm not going to critique it, just have a look for yourself. Great stuff...

The Abbey

I am currently sitting in the literary office of Ireland's National Theatre, The Abbey, which lies at the heart of Dublin's cultural scene...and it's not nearly as intimidating as it might sound. I have spent the morning talking to Jessica Traynore and Christine Madden who have enlightened me as to what goes on at The Abbey in terms of new writing. There is obviously a devotion and passion here for new works as a lot of the pieces being produced this season are freshly written pieces from established playwrights. There is a great tradition here for nurturing home grown talent, as well as a movement towards international works and new writing, which became one of the major topics of conversation. The theatre is currently under quite a large change, both Christine and Jessica are relatively new to the literary office here, although certainly well experienced in their given fields - Christine has come from the literary department of Rough Magic theatre company and Jessica has completed her MA in Creative Writing in Dublin. Also, as I mentioned in one of my earlier posts, the Abbey is changing site. On top of this and countless other challenges, they are trying to start up a young writers course for new writing. However, as they resolutely stated, the literary department is interested in nurturing new writers more than new writing. This is a reassuring and refreshing thing to hear, as well as their interest here in looking at the different processes that writers can adopt i.e. not just traditional forms of structure but also origins of ideas through imagery, or the space itself...indeed working with other practitioners in the theatre; actors, directors, designers etc.

It is very exciting time for theatre in Dublin, at The Abbey and indeed with all the people and places I've visited and and been privileged enough to talk and engage with. I have repeatedly talked about how much the city (in fact the whole country) has changed in the past ten years, money being the lynchpin and of which there is more of now. It is essential that at least some of these newly created resources are used for the development of the new voices that are starting to holler from all corners of this marvellous country. I'm really chuffed to see it happening, especially at this most well established and respected theatre. It is important as a writer (and it is something that was echoed during this morning's chat) that one is not intimidated by these towering, theatrical establishments. Having worked at the Royal Court, I believe the same sentiments are mirrored there. The priority of these establishments is to nurture, develop and produce theatre. And in terms of new writing, the last thing they want is to intimidate and/or shrink writers. There is everything in place to help writers overcome their fears of exposing themselves, and I often think it is then down to the writer...are you going to let that fear grow so that it overshadows your creativity, or are you going to remember why started writing in the first place. If you remain true to yourself, you'll create the best work you can.

I think it's going to be very difficult to get on that plane back to England come Friday...

This is my church...

Structure should be an easy thing to define. A car has four wheels, a chassis, a shell...a tree has roots, a trunks, branches, leaves...even something complicated, say the internal combustion engine, can be made simple by understanding it's structure...the same goes for good playwriting. There are the basics; story, plot, character, objective, obstacles, crisis, climax, resolution. Even the more complicated aspects of dramatic writing; revelation and reversal, axis, currency, even these things can be understood if explained. Of course, good teaching is essential. I am currently two days into a three day writing course at Fishamble, lead by Gavin Kostick, and I'm relearning a great deal as well as picking up some lovely nuggets of new information. I think it's equally important as a writer to find different ways of looking at things as it is to be true to your vision. It is easy to acquire an arrogance which, if nothing else, prevents you from choosing what might work for you as well as reducing your awareness about what might not work - and in fact hinder the writing process. Over the past couple of days we have returned to the Greeks and Aristotelian concepts of dramaturgy, which is something I covered quite extensively doing the masters at brum uni, but is equally refreshing now as it ever was. And it's great to talk to new writers (also doing the course) and seeing how well they're responding to these essential, archetypal ideas. There is something very reassuring about these ideas when you hear them, especially if you keep in mind that they are to be used as tools and not rules. If they don't work for you, it's simple, put them to one side. However, it is a slightly romantic notion to think that a writer just writes, and the words come from a deep, unfathomable abyss which no-one else can be party to...of course, you need an audience. So some set of coherent rules that help you write, will surely have more chance of resulting in a work that will reach out to people. Having said all this it is also worth mentioning that when I (and most writers I've met) do put pen to paper, that's exactly what we do. Arthur Miller was known to stick a sentence that summed up the play he was writing at the bottom of his typewriter, it helped him keep the piece focused. However, on the whole, I don't think writers stick up lists of rules around the room they are working to make sure they're doing everything right. No, writers just write, but having these rules/tools at the back of your mind is very important...and also when it comes to redrafting, these tools are invaluable. So if anyone out there's thinking of it I strongly recommend reading up on dramatic structure before starting your masterpiece...and on the flip side, don't think too much about it...one the best pieces of advice I've ever been given is don't get it right, get it written. Bon voyage...

More mixed salad than melting pot...(day 4)

The autumn sun shines starkly on the capital today, as it has done since I arrived. Except for yesterday when the wind wailed and you had to close your eyes and walk blind in fear of the rain damaging your retinas. As I mentioned yesterday I met up with Deirdre at the Solstice Arts centre which is about an hour away on the bus in a town called Navan, NW of Dublin. A lovely little town that maybe gives you a closer reading of a more traditional Ireland, or at least those nuances that are lost in any capital city...and going back to the idea of generalising and stereotyping, I was more comfortable with the Ireland I saw yesterday in Navan. Windswept, wet and white. No melting pot here, what you see is what you get, and in real life I think this brings most people comfort. And possibly in theatre? What makes a particular story told for the stage stand out? It certainly isn't the universality of the piece but more the specifics; we don't want to be asked into our own homes but rather a world we know exists but know very little about. What's important is that the characters belong in their world - not the audience.

Having said all this (all what?) I want to move on to the piece of theatre I saw yesterday at Trinity College in Dublin, Sanwoollim Theatre Company's Waiting for Godot by Samuel Beckett. Sanwoollim Theatre Company is a Korean (Seoul) based theatre company, who's director Professor Young-Woong Lim has been studying and producing performances of Godot for over forty years (which does make me wonder if he's still Waiting?). The piece was superb with very little being lost in translation. He obviously has a lot of respect for the author as it was as true to the original as could be, with the performers as passionate and engaged with the text as any other production I had seen. There was post show discussion, which really told me more about cultural differences than the presentation of the piece itself. His son (also with a PhD on Beckett) introduced the Company and the journey that Godot had made with him and his father over the past ten years. They were very proud of critics quotes claiming that the piece was 'mellowing' and 'objective', not words we usually associate with theatre (or indeed Godot) in England. Also, when it came to opening the floor to questions (of which I had one burning about how the piece was specific to a modern Korean audience) only one question was actually taken from the floor! It left me feeling that the Company was being protected in some way by the drama students at Trinity, or maybe I was just a bit jilted because I wasn't allowed to ask my precious question. But it was a gentle reminder that there is no 'melting pot', we all close our doors to keep our worlds intact, culturally, collectively and individually. And thank god, otherwise there'd be nothing to expose.

I met with Gavin at Fishamble again today. I must say I love literary managers who also produce their own work. Ben Payne at the Birmingham Rep is another of those who certainly knows his stuff as far as his given field is concerned but also likes to test his own creativity, putting his own neck on the line. Gavin is the same, he is currently running a staged version of Joseph Conrad's The Heart of Darkness. Pretty much the whole book, unabridged, running for five and half hours...that leaves me a little speechless, and in awe, and eager to see it. As Gavin says a lot people come just because it sounds unbelievable, they come 'to see the guy put the sword through his head'. For me it shows a level of endurance and commitment that I don't think most people can relate to, but a devotion I think anyone can admire. It's this level of commitment to theatre that is becoming more and more apparent as my time passes here, and it is something quite wonderful.

I am embarking on a weekend of writing workshops with Gavin as of tomorrow, so will be posting again after the weekend. I'm excited, it's the first chance I've had to write over the past few months, so we shall see...

Ten years on...(day 3)

Last night was a time for me to revisit an old flame as I went to see Hedda Gabler by Henrik Ibsen (a new version by Brian Friel) at the beautiful Gate theatre. Hedda was a piece of Ibsen's work that I studied and wrote about while doing my MA in Playwriting Skills (as it was then known) at Birmingham University, so I am quite well acquainted with our anti-heroine. Seeing it for the first time, and performed to this standard, was quite astounding. Besides Judge Brack's obsession with Americanisms, not much about the script had changed from Ibsen's original. And still it remains as poignant and topical as ever. However, besides the occasional lilt in the accents, there was nothing in the piece that was particularly revealing about the Irish culture.

I don't feel I have an agenda while I'm here (except what's in the brief of course) but I am becoming more aware that I am actively looking for aspects of theatre that define the culture over here. And culture is nothing without people, and yet the trap most writers fall into when trying to characterise a populous is stereotyping. I met with Deirdre Kinahan from Tall Tales theatre company this morning (having seen her visceral piece Hue and Cry at Bewleys Theatre cafe yesterday) and we soon got into a conversation about how much both theatre and the population has changed in just the last ten years. When I walk around Dublin I hear as many different languages as say a place like London but, unlike London, this wasn't the case ten years ago. It appears it is the same with developing and supporting new writing. Deirdre told me that before the millennium there wasn't really as much new writing being developed, simply because the support wasn't there. That, thankfully, has changed and is evident as I walk around as I walk around the city and meet these practitioners as well as seeing their new work.

Now you may ask whether I am trying to make some tenuous link between the increase in the immigrant population and the surge in support, development and production of new writing in the past ten years...that would be silly, there is no direct link. However the Abbey Theatre is seeing the return of Playboy of the Western World, a new version by Bisi Adigun and Roddy Doyle, with a black actor in the lead and back by popular demand - something I fear we'd never have seen ten years ago. It goes to show how quickly a culture can adapt and change and I think we (on the other side of the Sea and no matter how open minded we think we are) can take a leaf out of their book in this respect.

Vivre la Difference!

Dublin Calling

I arrived in Dublin two days ago, and although I'm loathed to begin my first post with a cliche, the people have immediately struck me with their warmth and willingness to tell me all about the city. There seems to be a real connection between the people and the place, which is unusual, especially when I consider our capital. Of course Dublin's population only extends to around one and half to two million, however it is on the increase and everyone here seems to be taking it in their stride.

On Tuesday morning I made my way down O'Connell street and over the river to meet with Gavin Kostick at Fishamble theatre (the city is comfortably compact enough to make your way around on foot). Fishambles offices are on the fourth floor of an old building in the Temple Bar area, south of the river. They don't have their own playing space, as Gavin told me their plays accommodate a wide variety of audiences. And having read a couple of their commissioned pieces that is fairly self-evident, but also as a company that concentrates it's energies on new writing, the emphasis is on development...and the Fishamble offices are certainly a conducive environment for writers to vent their passions, concerns and ambitions - in which I have already indulged, possibly to Gavin's dismay!

Last night I got my first taste of theatre as I saw Enda Walsh's adaptation of The Brother's Karamazov by Dostoevsky, Delirium. The show is produced in the studio space (The Peacock Theatre) of The Abbey Theatre, the National Theatre of Ireland. There was also a pre-show talk with Fiac Mac Conghail, the artistic director of the theatre. The theatre is moving site, which dominated the talks. Even my question about how new writers like Enda and Sebastian Barry (both commissioned by the abbey) make the journey from first play to being commissioned by the National seemed to open up a discussion about space and indeed other writers. And of course money. This is one thing that doesn't change with a short trip over the Irish Sea.

The show itself was fast and furious, with a quite outstanding cast. I enjoyed one of Enda's first plays Disco Pigs immensely and I have to admit I found it difficult to make the same connection with this piece. It was hysterically anarchic , but often chaotic to the point of losing me as an audience member. Having said this I made a point of visiting Wolverhampton's Central Library before I came away to loan the original book by Dostoevsky, and for those that have held it (never mind read it) know that it's quite a hefty piece of work. Needless to say I didn't even scratch the surface before I saw the show, so I tip my hat to all involved for unravelling, condensing and producing such piece of literature.

Also I have just come from a short afternoon matinee of Diedre Kinahan's Hue and Cry in the wonderfully cosy Bewley's Cafe Theatre. This cutting piece of naturalism sees two half brothers reunited in the wake of their father's funeral. This piece was a lot more accessible, funny and tragic and what a great place to see a show. The intimacy of these cafe theatres really does the job at drawing you in, and can even make your coffee taste that bit more bitter...in an enlivening way of course.

I'd like to end my first post by returning to Fishamble and a piece I was given to read`(in between shows) by Gavin. The Pride of Parnell Street by Sebastian Barry tells the story of a couple living in Dublin, torn apart and finally brought together by various acts of private and public violence that has peppered their lives. I often sneer when Literary people talk about the writers 'voice', usually wanting to answer 'but I've got more than one'. However, these contradictory utterances also mean I often love being proved wrong. Barry's play reminds me what it means to have a voice. When I read the play I could hear him listening, without distraction, to those murmurings coming deep from within. Gavin told me Barry is a writer that definitely scribes for voices, creating for particular characters, that is his style. And reading his work that is easy to see. It is also a gentle reminder that he not only writes for voices, but that he writes because there is a voice already there. Demanding, soulful, and completely irrepressible.

And so with refreshed enthusiasm I look forward to the days coming...

LAST TWO DAYS

Wednesday sees the second of the Druid Debuts (I’m unable to see the third on Friday, but have read it) - A LOCK OF FIERCE ROARS by John McManus, a piece of raw untutored exuberance which is one of the most remarkable experiences I’ve ever had inside a theatre, and certainly at a playreading. Moliere’s Miser meets Reservoir Dogs with a bodycount to rival Hamlet at the end. If I tell you that this is a vigorous, Cavan-set comedy about one man’s fierce fight to hold onto his loot, and the thieving bastards who are trying to get it off him, at the time of Ireland’s switch from the punt to the Euro, then this hardly begins to describe the fierce, foul-mouthed energy of the piece and the wonderful showmanship which a cast of four great character actors managed to bring to it.

To me, this feels like a play, and a writer with a future.

It seems clear to me by now that an equivalent to the British ‘new playwriting industry’ simply does not exist in Ireland. There are relatively few outlets for new plays, so the onus is on writers to gravitate towards those companies who put them on and for directors and literary managers to be alert to what is going on around them. The relatively few openings require everybody concerned to be quite tough in their decision-making, and this can be a good thing.

I think in recent years – and especially during the Blair years, the years of Instrumentalism – there has been a tendency in Britain to encourage ten writers where perhaps only three merited it. In the name of opening up ‘access’ I believe a lot of money has been targeted at the whole training and development end of things. A fine thing in itself, but my argument would always be, be clear about who the three good writers are and support them in a meaningful way – not encourage ten writers to think they have a future in a brutal and unforgiving industry. They don’t.

My last live performance – unless you count some of the great street music I heard (check out Mutefish, they deserve to be massive!) – was Fabulous Beast Dance Theatre’s reworking of Giselle, set in the stifling (fictional?) town of Ballyfeeny.

As the great Irish playwright John B. Keane once said, a play about sex in Ireland is always ahead of its time. This took a while to get to me, but its central section – the havoc wrought in this stifling small town by the unleashing of potent sexual forces – had the seats tipping up all around me – at least 15 people leaving the performance.

Well more fool them! This was about as good as dance theatre gets, and I was completely won over by a multi-national company of spirited actor/performers.

For me my trip has been a terrific experience.

The west coast of Ireland (my taxi driver said on the way to the airport: ‘on a clear day and with a fair wind you can smell Dunkin Donuts in New York') feels a long way from England – certainly much further than Dublin – and that was a bracing experience for me. In fact I barely heard an English accent the whole time I was in Galway..

There is a sense of community – and a theatre community – that simply does not exist at home. Somehow, somewhere it has values which transcend the purely commercial (although much work I saw was preoccupied with how crudely venal Ireland is itself becoming), and a sense of reverence for storytellers of all sorts.

Perhaps, at one time, there was nothing to do but tell stories. To while away the time. To convince people they were alive. In Britain we have always been more interested in selling stories, not telling them, and that’s a different thing entirely…