A Good Night Out in the Valleys, National Theatre Wales’s first production, performed at Blackwood Miners’ Institute, was exactly that: a good night out.
The drama centres on the struggle for the future of the Miners’ Institute as Kyle (Huw Rhys) a developer from a mining company comes to the village. Through his interaction with Con (Boyd Clack), the manager of the Institute, and various other characters, such as amateur boxer Dirty Karen (Siwan Morris), Con’s daughter Sue (Amy Starling) and miner’s son Shwni (Oliver Wood), it becomes apparent that he is not a stranger, and that he has his own reasons for masterminding the demise of the Institute. However Kyle’s plan to avenge the bullying and intimidation suffered by his family during the Miner’s Strike is put in jeopardy as he finds himself falling for Sue, despite her father’s role in making his family’s life a misery. Directed by John E McGrath and written by Alan Harris, the play was developed following workshops and interviews with groups and individuals from the Valleys which gives it an authenticity, and makes it a product of its area.
The production made exceptional use of the available space: having audience members on the stage taking the place of regulars at the Miners’ Institute was a clever way of creating a link between the audience and the action, as well as breaking down the barrier between audience and actor. This interaction was furthered by the audience participating in a game of bingo at the Institute, as well as a salesperson for Bevan’s meats and treats doing the rounds. The demolishing of barriers, and reaching out to the audience is not merely a ploy used for this first production, but is rather a central concern for National Theatre Wales. The company has decided against having their own building, and have chosen instead to take their productions to various communities across the country, and through this, to reach out to the people of Wales.
A film at the back of the stage was exploited to its full potential to change the backdrop as the action moved from one location to another. This was particularly helpful to ensure the audience could follow the various narrative threads, as all actors played numerous different characters, and switched between these roles at speed.
The drama was lacking one, defining, strong plot line: however the use of many inter-weaving strands was successful in building layers of relationships between the characters, which represented realistically the make up of a tight-knit community. Although the conclusion of the main point of conflict in the plot, as Kyle and Sue end up living happily ever after despite the bitterness and mistrust between both families, was far too predictable, this did not detract from our enjoyment. A love story on two sides of a divide, be that social, political or racial, has been done to death, but this play escaped the charge of predictability because, how could the production be a good night out in any worthwhile way without a happy ending?
The production was not trying to preach to its audience, nor was it trying to tackle world issues; rather it was trying to entertain and amuse, whilst holding up a mirror to the Valleys community, and succeeded in these ends.This is not to say that the play shied away from more serious topics: it dealt convincingly with unemployment, illness, death, revenge, forgiveness, belonging, as well as the continuing consequences of the miners’ strike on a community torn in two by the dispute. There were numerous emotionally fraught scenes: an ex-miner slowly dying from the effects of coal dust, a scab’s son confronting the man who had ostracised his family. However the humour pulsating throughout the production, and here I must highlight Sharon Morgan’s, Strongbow drinking, Dizzee Rascal loving granny who stole each and every scene in which she appeared, ensured that it did not fall into the trap of sentimentalising life in the Valleys. Rather this was a drama which represented the Valleys and its inhabitants with their weaknesses, as well as their strengths on show for all to see.
This show certainly set the benchmark for National Theatre Wales’s programme: I hope future productions will succeed in reaching the same standard.
Tuesday, 23 March 2010
Monday, 22 March 2010
Lacklustre Literature
I read both Welsh and English novels, and have noticed in the last couple of years a worrying discrepancy between what is published in both languages. Welsh language authors seem to be stuck in the past, and don’t seem to want to deal with the problems of the world in which we live. This might seem rather unfair, but in reality there has only been one Welsh novel that has grappled with the post September 11th world: Yr Anweledig by Llion Iwan.
Yr Anweledig (The Invisible) shows us the effect that war has on the lives of various characters, including an American soldier and a shepherd in the Hindu Kush Mountains. Although it does not deal directly with the way in which Britain has been affected, it does deal successfully with the way in which people’s lives have changed so dramatically since the attacks on the Twin Towers, and the way the world itself has changed. Yr Anweledig describes graphically the suffering, violence, and heart-break which war brings into the lives of ordinary people across the globe and the reader is filled with guilt, for these acts are done in our name. Unfortunately Yr Anweledig did not win the Prose Medal in the National Eisteddfod; rather the prize went to O Ran, yet another backward-looking Welsh novel, dealing with childhood.
Frank McCourt stated that “worse than the ordinary miserable childhood is the miserable Irish childhood, and worse yet is the miserable Irish Catholic childhood.” This could be easily paraphrased for Wales, just replace Irish with Welsh, and Catholic with Methodist. The obsession with childhood memoirs does not show merely a lack of creativity and innovation amongst Welsh authors, but more importantly is a symbol of our cultural obsession with looking back, and our inability to shake off the shackles of the past. It is imperative that we become forward-looking, that our culture celebrates our future, and plays a part in shaping that future rather than merely wallowing in personal or collective trials and tragedies.
But the trouble with the Welsh literary market is not merely that we are constantly bombarded with childhood memoirs (although this is certain true), rather the problem is that the books published are too introverted. The vast majority of books deal with the trials of the lives of the Welsh middle classes, and it is here that the problems lie; it is not merely a matter of not dealing with the problems of the world, but also a matter of not dealing with the problems of working class Welsh speakers. There has been very little, if any literature written about the recession and its effects on Wales, even though some areas of the traditional Welsh-speaking heartlands such as Anglesey have been hit hard by job losses. The reason for this is that Welsh authors tend to write only about their own narrow periphery, the problems that they experience, the traumas and crises of the well-off, well-dressed Welsh middle class.
It is about time that Welsh authors looked out of their ivory tours and realised that the country is changing, and has changed, and their work must reflect these changes, if it not to become obsolete. This is not to claim that Welsh authors should not write about Welsh-language Wales, because if they do not do so, nobody will. However Welsh literature should be more inclusive and more relevant, it should not be written by the a middle class clique, for a middle class clique, and reviewed and judged by members of that very same clique. Rather literature should speak to all of Wales, regardless of class, education or wealth, after all the language belongs to all.
As regards the matter of Welsh literature’s inability to write about the world and Wales’s place in the world, I believe that this is a symptom of our lack of self-belief and self-confidence. We must develop the belief that Wales has a role to play in the world, and a confidence that our voice should be heard along those of other nations. After all we are not a ghetto untouched and unaffected by the world’s problems, the world’s issues are our issues.
Yr Anweledig (The Invisible) shows us the effect that war has on the lives of various characters, including an American soldier and a shepherd in the Hindu Kush Mountains. Although it does not deal directly with the way in which Britain has been affected, it does deal successfully with the way in which people’s lives have changed so dramatically since the attacks on the Twin Towers, and the way the world itself has changed. Yr Anweledig describes graphically the suffering, violence, and heart-break which war brings into the lives of ordinary people across the globe and the reader is filled with guilt, for these acts are done in our name. Unfortunately Yr Anweledig did not win the Prose Medal in the National Eisteddfod; rather the prize went to O Ran, yet another backward-looking Welsh novel, dealing with childhood.
Frank McCourt stated that “worse than the ordinary miserable childhood is the miserable Irish childhood, and worse yet is the miserable Irish Catholic childhood.” This could be easily paraphrased for Wales, just replace Irish with Welsh, and Catholic with Methodist. The obsession with childhood memoirs does not show merely a lack of creativity and innovation amongst Welsh authors, but more importantly is a symbol of our cultural obsession with looking back, and our inability to shake off the shackles of the past. It is imperative that we become forward-looking, that our culture celebrates our future, and plays a part in shaping that future rather than merely wallowing in personal or collective trials and tragedies.
But the trouble with the Welsh literary market is not merely that we are constantly bombarded with childhood memoirs (although this is certain true), rather the problem is that the books published are too introverted. The vast majority of books deal with the trials of the lives of the Welsh middle classes, and it is here that the problems lie; it is not merely a matter of not dealing with the problems of the world, but also a matter of not dealing with the problems of working class Welsh speakers. There has been very little, if any literature written about the recession and its effects on Wales, even though some areas of the traditional Welsh-speaking heartlands such as Anglesey have been hit hard by job losses. The reason for this is that Welsh authors tend to write only about their own narrow periphery, the problems that they experience, the traumas and crises of the well-off, well-dressed Welsh middle class.
It is about time that Welsh authors looked out of their ivory tours and realised that the country is changing, and has changed, and their work must reflect these changes, if it not to become obsolete. This is not to claim that Welsh authors should not write about Welsh-language Wales, because if they do not do so, nobody will. However Welsh literature should be more inclusive and more relevant, it should not be written by the a middle class clique, for a middle class clique, and reviewed and judged by members of that very same clique. Rather literature should speak to all of Wales, regardless of class, education or wealth, after all the language belongs to all.
As regards the matter of Welsh literature’s inability to write about the world and Wales’s place in the world, I believe that this is a symptom of our lack of self-belief and self-confidence. We must develop the belief that Wales has a role to play in the world, and a confidence that our voice should be heard along those of other nations. After all we are not a ghetto untouched and unaffected by the world’s problems, the world’s issues are our issues.
Sunday, 21 March 2010
Photographing the World
Out of all the forms or mediums of visual arts, which is the one that tells us the most about ourselves? Which is the most immediate, the most striking? The one that hits you between the eyes, takes hold, does not let you go. Photography.
A picture tells a thousand words, or so the cliché says, but in reality photography often manages to capture what is impossible to describe in words. It might be a feeling, a situation so fleeting that it is gone in seconds, or an event that will never be seen again. It is photography’s ability to catch a second of the mortal, fluid, ever-changing world for all of eternity that makes it so very precious. Looking at a photograph of far flung lands or wars where the dead are all but forgotten and the victor entered the hallowed halls of history, it does not matter that the subject may have ceased to exist because the photograph ensures its survival, ensures that it is still alive, and alive in the minds of men.
Nowhere is photography’s ability to preserve the past, more apparent, and more ambitiously realised than in Albert Kahn’s collection of colour photographs of the early 20th century. Kahn, a keen philanthropist, sent tens of photographers across the globe to collect images of disappearing cultures, tribes on the edge of extinction, and a world that would never be the same again. In the collection, there are rare colour images of the First World War, photographs of Prime Minister Balfour’s visit to Palestine following his decision to create a homeland for the world’s Jews, the Bedouins and their lifestyle which has all but disappeared and slaves in the French colony of Mauritania. These are photographs of a changing world, a world that will never be seen again, and it is this that makes the images so important. They give us an insight into a world destroyed by man’s obsession with progress, and his belief in the importance of homogeneity, but the images remain to celebrate those lost tribes and displaced people and their culture, and perhaps as a warning against similar mistakes.
Albert Kahn’s work also highlights the fact that a photograph shows much more than merely the day to day life of a certain period, or the personal experiences of an individual, the image has depth, and layers of meaning for the viewer to appreciate and unravel. A photograph often tells us about the political and social landscape in which it was taken. That is, a photograph is not taken in a vacuum, and it is the cultural or social background that gives it much of its meaning, and its importance. The photograph must tell us something, must reveal something about the world in which we live, about the lives we lead. This is especially true of the work of a photographer such as Philip Jones Griffiths. Griffiths’ work is synonyms with the Vietnam War, and for many his images represent that war, and all that is wrong with all wars, and war itself. But above all else, Griffiths’ work pulsates with humanity; the suffering, the hardship, the compassion, the justice and injustices of human life. The photographs are not merely to be displayed in galleries or published in newspapers; they should touch our emotions, and make us question the role we play on the world stage. Griffiths’ work is a moral compass in an apathetic, disinterested world; it makes us challenge what is right and wrong, and perhaps forces us to face some uncomfortable home truths.
This is not to claim that a photograph is merely a device for disseminating political messages, as Philip Jones Griffiths stated: too much style and a photograph is merely wallpaper, too much content it is merely propaganda.
A picture tells a thousand words, or so the cliché says, but in reality photography often manages to capture what is impossible to describe in words. It might be a feeling, a situation so fleeting that it is gone in seconds, or an event that will never be seen again. It is photography’s ability to catch a second of the mortal, fluid, ever-changing world for all of eternity that makes it so very precious. Looking at a photograph of far flung lands or wars where the dead are all but forgotten and the victor entered the hallowed halls of history, it does not matter that the subject may have ceased to exist because the photograph ensures its survival, ensures that it is still alive, and alive in the minds of men.
Nowhere is photography’s ability to preserve the past, more apparent, and more ambitiously realised than in Albert Kahn’s collection of colour photographs of the early 20th century. Kahn, a keen philanthropist, sent tens of photographers across the globe to collect images of disappearing cultures, tribes on the edge of extinction, and a world that would never be the same again. In the collection, there are rare colour images of the First World War, photographs of Prime Minister Balfour’s visit to Palestine following his decision to create a homeland for the world’s Jews, the Bedouins and their lifestyle which has all but disappeared and slaves in the French colony of Mauritania. These are photographs of a changing world, a world that will never be seen again, and it is this that makes the images so important. They give us an insight into a world destroyed by man’s obsession with progress, and his belief in the importance of homogeneity, but the images remain to celebrate those lost tribes and displaced people and their culture, and perhaps as a warning against similar mistakes.
Albert Kahn’s work also highlights the fact that a photograph shows much more than merely the day to day life of a certain period, or the personal experiences of an individual, the image has depth, and layers of meaning for the viewer to appreciate and unravel. A photograph often tells us about the political and social landscape in which it was taken. That is, a photograph is not taken in a vacuum, and it is the cultural or social background that gives it much of its meaning, and its importance. The photograph must tell us something, must reveal something about the world in which we live, about the lives we lead. This is especially true of the work of a photographer such as Philip Jones Griffiths. Griffiths’ work is synonyms with the Vietnam War, and for many his images represent that war, and all that is wrong with all wars, and war itself. But above all else, Griffiths’ work pulsates with humanity; the suffering, the hardship, the compassion, the justice and injustices of human life. The photographs are not merely to be displayed in galleries or published in newspapers; they should touch our emotions, and make us question the role we play on the world stage. Griffiths’ work is a moral compass in an apathetic, disinterested world; it makes us challenge what is right and wrong, and perhaps forces us to face some uncomfortable home truths.
This is not to claim that a photograph is merely a device for disseminating political messages, as Philip Jones Griffiths stated: too much style and a photograph is merely wallpaper, too much content it is merely propaganda.
Tuesday, 16 March 2010
Nature's Beauty
I am well aware of the old cliché that beauty is in the eye of the beholder, but a journey from my sister’s flat in South London, back home to the wilds of North Wales has got me thinking about the nature of beauty. Whilst on the bus to Euston I crossed Waterloo Bridge and the view of London from this vantage point showed the city at its best. I could see the Palace of Westminster, St Paul’s Cathedral, the London Eye, the Gherkin, the OXO tower, Somerset House, Canary Wharf and the South Bank. Each of these landmarks or buildings is aesthetically appealing, and doubtlessly when seen together are a sight to behold, showing the grandeur and majesty of London. But are they truly beautiful? The reason I ask this, is that on the train back to North Wales I passed some breathtaking landscapes such as the estuary of the Conwy River, and the mountains of Snowdonia still capped by the winter’s snow. These views were truly breathtaking and made me reconsider my earlier judgement of the view of London? Was it beautiful after all or merely pleasing to the eye? But was it fair to compare these vastly different views? Is it possible to compare natural and man-made beauty? Can we use the same benchmarks for a mountain, created over thousands, if not millions of years, and a building created by man’s own endeavour?
It might be that I am missing the point completely; it might be that a place’s beauty is not solely judged by its aesthetic, but also by its meaning and resonance to the viewer. That is, the view of London meant relatively little to me personally, but the view of Snowdonia meant that I was home. A person brought up in London might have seen a deeper meaning to the city’s landscape, and the memories intertwined with this view would have given it a significance that a stranger to the city would not feel.
The feeling of belonging to a place means that one can see beauty in the most down at heel town or village and can appreciate the intricacies and mannerisms that might not register on the radar of a visitor. It might be that its beauty lays in its smell , its sounds, its accents, or even something so subtle that it cannot be put into words, but still exists.
I believe that the above is true to an extent, but that still doesn’t explain why a building made by man’s hands will never live up to the beauty of nature (in my mind at least).
It might be that I am missing the point completely; it might be that a place’s beauty is not solely judged by its aesthetic, but also by its meaning and resonance to the viewer. That is, the view of London meant relatively little to me personally, but the view of Snowdonia meant that I was home. A person brought up in London might have seen a deeper meaning to the city’s landscape, and the memories intertwined with this view would have given it a significance that a stranger to the city would not feel.
The feeling of belonging to a place means that one can see beauty in the most down at heel town or village and can appreciate the intricacies and mannerisms that might not register on the radar of a visitor. It might be that its beauty lays in its smell , its sounds, its accents, or even something so subtle that it cannot be put into words, but still exists.
I believe that the above is true to an extent, but that still doesn’t explain why a building made by man’s hands will never live up to the beauty of nature (in my mind at least).
Monday, 15 March 2010
One Country: Two National Theatres
A new chapter in Welsh theatre has begun with National Theatre Wales’s first production: A Good Night Out in the Valleys. Now at long last, Wales has both an English language and a Welsh language national theatre company.
Having been to see just over half of the productions of Theatr Genedlaethol Cymru, I must admit that National Theatre Wales’s first year programme seems much more exciting than that which has been on offer by the Welsh language company. Of the thirteen English language productions which will be staged in the next year the vast majority are completely new works, and many see National Theatre Wales (NTW) working in collaboration with other theatre practitioners such as Welsh National Opera, Volcano Theatre and NoFit State Circus. There are only two plays which have not been written especially for NTW, a newly discovered early work by John Osborne, and a widely anticipated new production of The Persians. This is in stark contrast to Theatr Genedlaethol Cymru (ThGC), which chose a production of Romeo and Juliet as their second production, and have staged no fewer than nine plays which fit into the “classics” be that a Welsh language classic or a Welsh translation of an English or European classic.
This is not to say that there is no place for the classics in the repertoire of a national theatre company, however such a company should be at the forefront of new writing, and pushing forward new ideas, inventive, fresh productions, and challenging its audience, rather than merely regurgitating a series of classics.
Both companies decided on relatively safe productions for their first shows: NTW chose to begin with A Good Night Out in the Valleys, whilst ThGC began with Yn Debyg Iawn i Ti a Fi. A Good Night Out in the Valleys was a success because it was very much a play about the Valleys, and for the people of the Valleys, but did not descend into clichés of male voice choirs, rugby and coal pits. Rather it was a warts and all picture of a tight-knit Valleys community, with its inhabitants weaknesses on show, just as much as their strengths. It may not have been the most mentally taxing piece of drama ever written, but it did prove beyond all doubt that the theatre can be a good night out, and re-iterated a point that is too easily forgotten: that drama should entertain and amuse the audience, rather than preach and patronise.
Yn Debyg Iawn i Ti a Fi was a production of a play by Meic Povey previously performed by Theatr Bara Caws, and it was disappointing that the company had not decided to begin with a new, fresh piece of work. Furthermore, the play itself failed to convince in its portrayal of a man suffering from schizophrenia, with some extremely strange pieces of theatre such as the cooking of bacon on stage, and the relentless opening and closing of the oven door, which added nothing to the narrative and did nothing to heighten the dramatic tension. The performance I saw was not helped by a member of the audience falling ill and requiring an ambulance a couple of lines from the end of the production, destroying any tension and suspense that had been built, and forcing the cast to return to the stage to finish an insipid performance.
NTW’s first year programme, and especially so the lack of productions of the classics, or even the modern classics shows a self-confidence in the company’s output that has been missing from ThGC. This might be in part due to the fact that NTW has been able to learn from the mistakes of ThGC, but more importantly there is a feeling that NTW has more faith in its audience. That is, generally speaking Welsh language theatre caters for a rather narrow clique, that knows what it likes, and is not challenged or pushed by ThGC’s provision. The dramas produced uphold the status quo, and nurse the conscience of the Welsh middle class, rather than take them by the scruff of the neck and make them see their lives, communities, country and their position differently, and through the viewpoints completely estranged from their own. On the other hand, NTW seem to be trying to reach out, not only to those that do regularly attend the theatre, but also those that might not feel an affinity with traditional theatre. To this end, they have decided on a very varied programme, as well as using location very effectively to try and engage people by producing plays with a relevance to those particular communities.
With NTW performing a different play in a different location for the next twelve months, and ThGC currently advertising for a new Artistic Director, undeniably this coming year is going to be an exciting time for both Welsh language and English language theatre in Wales.
Having been to see just over half of the productions of Theatr Genedlaethol Cymru, I must admit that National Theatre Wales’s first year programme seems much more exciting than that which has been on offer by the Welsh language company. Of the thirteen English language productions which will be staged in the next year the vast majority are completely new works, and many see National Theatre Wales (NTW) working in collaboration with other theatre practitioners such as Welsh National Opera, Volcano Theatre and NoFit State Circus. There are only two plays which have not been written especially for NTW, a newly discovered early work by John Osborne, and a widely anticipated new production of The Persians. This is in stark contrast to Theatr Genedlaethol Cymru (ThGC), which chose a production of Romeo and Juliet as their second production, and have staged no fewer than nine plays which fit into the “classics” be that a Welsh language classic or a Welsh translation of an English or European classic.
This is not to say that there is no place for the classics in the repertoire of a national theatre company, however such a company should be at the forefront of new writing, and pushing forward new ideas, inventive, fresh productions, and challenging its audience, rather than merely regurgitating a series of classics.
Both companies decided on relatively safe productions for their first shows: NTW chose to begin with A Good Night Out in the Valleys, whilst ThGC began with Yn Debyg Iawn i Ti a Fi. A Good Night Out in the Valleys was a success because it was very much a play about the Valleys, and for the people of the Valleys, but did not descend into clichés of male voice choirs, rugby and coal pits. Rather it was a warts and all picture of a tight-knit Valleys community, with its inhabitants weaknesses on show, just as much as their strengths. It may not have been the most mentally taxing piece of drama ever written, but it did prove beyond all doubt that the theatre can be a good night out, and re-iterated a point that is too easily forgotten: that drama should entertain and amuse the audience, rather than preach and patronise.
Yn Debyg Iawn i Ti a Fi was a production of a play by Meic Povey previously performed by Theatr Bara Caws, and it was disappointing that the company had not decided to begin with a new, fresh piece of work. Furthermore, the play itself failed to convince in its portrayal of a man suffering from schizophrenia, with some extremely strange pieces of theatre such as the cooking of bacon on stage, and the relentless opening and closing of the oven door, which added nothing to the narrative and did nothing to heighten the dramatic tension. The performance I saw was not helped by a member of the audience falling ill and requiring an ambulance a couple of lines from the end of the production, destroying any tension and suspense that had been built, and forcing the cast to return to the stage to finish an insipid performance.
NTW’s first year programme, and especially so the lack of productions of the classics, or even the modern classics shows a self-confidence in the company’s output that has been missing from ThGC. This might be in part due to the fact that NTW has been able to learn from the mistakes of ThGC, but more importantly there is a feeling that NTW has more faith in its audience. That is, generally speaking Welsh language theatre caters for a rather narrow clique, that knows what it likes, and is not challenged or pushed by ThGC’s provision. The dramas produced uphold the status quo, and nurse the conscience of the Welsh middle class, rather than take them by the scruff of the neck and make them see their lives, communities, country and their position differently, and through the viewpoints completely estranged from their own. On the other hand, NTW seem to be trying to reach out, not only to those that do regularly attend the theatre, but also those that might not feel an affinity with traditional theatre. To this end, they have decided on a very varied programme, as well as using location very effectively to try and engage people by producing plays with a relevance to those particular communities.
With NTW performing a different play in a different location for the next twelve months, and ThGC currently advertising for a new Artistic Director, undeniably this coming year is going to be an exciting time for both Welsh language and English language theatre in Wales.
Wednesday, 10 March 2010
The Bitch from Brixton: Brockley Jack: 5/03/10
The Bitch from Brixton, performed at the Brockley Jack as part of the Write Now season of new writing, challenged our perceptions of the demise of Ruth Ellis. Starring Kirsty Nielson, Jonathan Dolling, Cary Crankson and Ben Whybrow, the show shed new light on a dark chapter in the British justice system, claiming as it did, that Ellis was a spy employed by the British government. Whether you choose to be taken in by this claim or not, this new angle on Ruth Ellis’s life and death produced a compelling piece of work.
Throughout the performance Ellis was constantly dressing and undressing, and being cajoled and forced by the male characters to dress according to their liking. This successfully created the image of Ruth Ellis as a living doll, a mannequin, or a puppet, who existed merely to be used and moulded to the desires of others. Therefore, an extra layer of interaction and power play between the various characters was cleverly created.
The over-riding theme of the play was not justice or injustice, but rather manipulation. All the characters were trying to manipulate each other in order to further their own ends. From a young age Ellis had been abused and exploited at home, and following this had to learn how to play the manipulation game to survive. However Ellis’s own attempts at manipulation and controlling the actions of others in order to improve her lot in life fall flat. Ruth Ellis is forced to return to the Camera Club, and a seedy lifestyle she thought was behind her, as she says herself, “a week ago, I thought the Camera Club was below me”. It is emphasised here that Ruth Ellis is mistaken in her belief that she can better herself, that she can control her life. Rather, Ellis herself is the subject that is controlled by others; by her father, her boss, Desmond, her lover, and finally her lawyer. Ellis’s life has never been in her own hands, her fate has never been her own.
This particular take on the life story of Ruth Ellis is overly-coloured by the writers’ own feminism, and the overtly political message distracts from the story. Ellis is portrayed as the victim, at the mercy of the men in her life. It is not her fault that her life has crumbled, but rather that of the men; it is not her fault that she murders a man, but rather that of the men in her life. Ruth Ellis is not held to account for her own actions and decisions, and is excused her failings and her guilt. The concept of individual choice, free will, and Ellis’s ability to shape her own fate are all but ignored.
The lack of direct, face to face interaction between the characters during the play was not convincing, and detrimentally affected the presentation and development of the relationships created on the stage. Due to the fact that the characters were speaking to each other without looking at one another, many of the relationships portrayed were flat and one-dimensional. If we had seen the characters communicate fully, especially if we had seen more reactions and a wider use of body language, the characters would have been more realistic and life-like. Having said this, the scene in Ellis’s club where all four actors are lined up facing the audience, and each man is trying to converse with Ruth Ellis, until their noise grows to a crescendo, was striking in showing the relationships between the characters and, more importantly how Ellis was being pulled in differing directions by the different men.
Kirsty Nielson, the actress playing Ruth Ellis was trying too hard, and ended up over-acting the part and giving it an unneeded melodramatic edge. To be honest, Nielson was not necessarily the right choice for the role of Ellis, having a distinct lack of the gravitas required for such a well-rounded, well-known character. Kirtsy Nielson did succeed in portraying Ruth Ellis very convincingly as a child, however the desired maturity was missing as the character aged and developed.
The production came to a head with a powerful finale, which unveiled the characters’ true intentions and agendas, as Ellis’s demise becomes inevitable. The design of the final scene was visually arresting, as the production ended with Ruth Ellis lit alone, awaiting her death.
Overall, The Bitch from Brixton was a fresh, exciting play, which engaged intelligently with the case of Ruth Ellis, and depicted a rarely heard facet of her life, even if its historical accuracy is still to be proven.
Throughout the performance Ellis was constantly dressing and undressing, and being cajoled and forced by the male characters to dress according to their liking. This successfully created the image of Ruth Ellis as a living doll, a mannequin, or a puppet, who existed merely to be used and moulded to the desires of others. Therefore, an extra layer of interaction and power play between the various characters was cleverly created.
The over-riding theme of the play was not justice or injustice, but rather manipulation. All the characters were trying to manipulate each other in order to further their own ends. From a young age Ellis had been abused and exploited at home, and following this had to learn how to play the manipulation game to survive. However Ellis’s own attempts at manipulation and controlling the actions of others in order to improve her lot in life fall flat. Ruth Ellis is forced to return to the Camera Club, and a seedy lifestyle she thought was behind her, as she says herself, “a week ago, I thought the Camera Club was below me”. It is emphasised here that Ruth Ellis is mistaken in her belief that she can better herself, that she can control her life. Rather, Ellis herself is the subject that is controlled by others; by her father, her boss, Desmond, her lover, and finally her lawyer. Ellis’s life has never been in her own hands, her fate has never been her own.
This particular take on the life story of Ruth Ellis is overly-coloured by the writers’ own feminism, and the overtly political message distracts from the story. Ellis is portrayed as the victim, at the mercy of the men in her life. It is not her fault that her life has crumbled, but rather that of the men; it is not her fault that she murders a man, but rather that of the men in her life. Ruth Ellis is not held to account for her own actions and decisions, and is excused her failings and her guilt. The concept of individual choice, free will, and Ellis’s ability to shape her own fate are all but ignored.
The lack of direct, face to face interaction between the characters during the play was not convincing, and detrimentally affected the presentation and development of the relationships created on the stage. Due to the fact that the characters were speaking to each other without looking at one another, many of the relationships portrayed were flat and one-dimensional. If we had seen the characters communicate fully, especially if we had seen more reactions and a wider use of body language, the characters would have been more realistic and life-like. Having said this, the scene in Ellis’s club where all four actors are lined up facing the audience, and each man is trying to converse with Ruth Ellis, until their noise grows to a crescendo, was striking in showing the relationships between the characters and, more importantly how Ellis was being pulled in differing directions by the different men.
Kirsty Nielson, the actress playing Ruth Ellis was trying too hard, and ended up over-acting the part and giving it an unneeded melodramatic edge. To be honest, Nielson was not necessarily the right choice for the role of Ellis, having a distinct lack of the gravitas required for such a well-rounded, well-known character. Kirtsy Nielson did succeed in portraying Ruth Ellis very convincingly as a child, however the desired maturity was missing as the character aged and developed.
The production came to a head with a powerful finale, which unveiled the characters’ true intentions and agendas, as Ellis’s demise becomes inevitable. The design of the final scene was visually arresting, as the production ended with Ruth Ellis lit alone, awaiting her death.
Overall, The Bitch from Brixton was a fresh, exciting play, which engaged intelligently with the case of Ruth Ellis, and depicted a rarely heard facet of her life, even if its historical accuracy is still to be proven.
Classifying Art
Going to see the Rise of Women Artists exhibition at the Walker Gallery, Liverpool, has got me thinking: does the habit of classifying artwork according to the artists’ gender or race/ethnicity do any good to anyone?
I understand that some groups have traditionally been under-represented in the art establishment, and that exhibitions giving particular attention to these minorities can be seen as trying to give them their fair share of the limelight, or even trying to make amends for the discrimination of the past. However, does it not merely entrench the view that art by ethnic minorities or by women must be viewed differently, and judged by different standards?
I do agree that the art world needs to wake up to the fact that there is a wealth of talent in all sectors of society, and that boundaries and barriers stopping women and ethnic minorities from reaching the very pinnacle of the art world must be abolished once and for all. Furthermore, it is important that the history and development of women and ethnic minority artists is given attention, especially as this has been all but ignored for centuries, whilst the white, middle class, male artist has been put on a pedestal. But does separating the artwork of these under-represented groups from the mainstream merely keep them at the margins or periphery, and make it harder for them to be accepted into the establishment? Should we not see the work of women and ethnic minorities exhibited alongside other artists regardless of their background? That is, should their art not be allowed to do the talking? After all, artists want their work exhibited on its own merit, rather than being given the opportunity to exhibit for any other reason, be it age, gender, sexuality, race or religion. Will it not do far more for the confidence of the individual artist to know that his/her work was good enough to be chosen, and would have been good enough regardless of the identity of the artist, rather than merely being chosen to tick the female or ethnic minority box.
I understand that some groups have traditionally been under-represented in the art establishment, and that exhibitions giving particular attention to these minorities can be seen as trying to give them their fair share of the limelight, or even trying to make amends for the discrimination of the past. However, does it not merely entrench the view that art by ethnic minorities or by women must be viewed differently, and judged by different standards?
I do agree that the art world needs to wake up to the fact that there is a wealth of talent in all sectors of society, and that boundaries and barriers stopping women and ethnic minorities from reaching the very pinnacle of the art world must be abolished once and for all. Furthermore, it is important that the history and development of women and ethnic minority artists is given attention, especially as this has been all but ignored for centuries, whilst the white, middle class, male artist has been put on a pedestal. But does separating the artwork of these under-represented groups from the mainstream merely keep them at the margins or periphery, and make it harder for them to be accepted into the establishment? Should we not see the work of women and ethnic minorities exhibited alongside other artists regardless of their background? That is, should their art not be allowed to do the talking? After all, artists want their work exhibited on its own merit, rather than being given the opportunity to exhibit for any other reason, be it age, gender, sexuality, race or religion. Will it not do far more for the confidence of the individual artist to know that his/her work was good enough to be chosen, and would have been good enough regardless of the identity of the artist, rather than merely being chosen to tick the female or ethnic minority box.
Tuesday, 2 March 2010
The Rise of Women Artists: Walker Art Gallery: 26/02/10
The Rise of Women Artists exhibition at the Walker Art Gallery, Liverpool attempts to show us the development of female artists, and their steadily increasing profile in the art world of the last 500 years.
The exhibition includes an eclectic mix of textiles, ceramics and fine art, which successfully showcases not only the traditional mediums associated with female artists, but challenged these assumptions by displaying the full and varied spectrum of art works by women.
Although the exhibition began with a display of textiles created in the 16th century, showing the intricate, delicate embroidery created by girls as young as 10 years old, it would have been interesting if the exhibition had began with even earlier work, to allow us to truly appreciate the changes in the role of the female artist, as well as in their work. However, the embroidery exhibited did show the differing purpose and aims of female art, compared to the art created by male artists in the same period. Art, especially needlework, was seen as an acceptable hobby for women which had a practical value in allowing women to create decorative pieces for the home. Furthermore, young women traditionally made their own clothes and home ware to take with them to their new marital home and this was seen as an adequate outlet for their creative talents. This was in stark contrast to the way society saw the work of male artists; art by men was seen as having a higher meaning, and a meaning of its own regardless of its lack of practical purpose.
It was only in creative households that women were given the opportunity and freedom to express their artistic abilities, and provided with the education that would enable them to flourish. Therefore, whilst viewing the exhibition it must be kept in mind that we are only seeing the work of those women who had the freedom to create art, rather than a fair representation of the talented women of the period, or even the most naturally talented artists.
The exhibition had many spectacular pieces: I am merely going to highlight some of my personal favourites.
There were beautiful pieces of ceramics on display including a most exquisite coffee set by Susan Ellis-Williams. The set had a dark background, overlaid with a stunning eastern-inspired pattern. Furthermore, there was a set by Clarice Cliff which was bursting with colour, and revealed that art does not have to be serious and sombre to be splendid.
The exhibition included a small painting, as well as a piece of metalwork by Frances McNair which illustrated her ability to represent her emotional and physical fragility through a variety of mediums. The painting in particular was an effective use of other-worldly, almost mythological images and motifs to symbolise the struggle within a woman’s life.
There were numerous paintings within the exhibition which demonstrated female artists’ willingness to challenge the status quo, and tackle subjects previously deemed suitable only for treatment by male artists, particularly so, paintings dealing with religious subjects and biblical scenes. Two religious paintings stood out for their beauty. A striking painting of St Catherine, with its rich embellishments in gold which gave the image a majestic, regal air, and a painting of the Virgin Mary and Christ surrounded by angels. The depth of colour in this work and the richness of the palette were stronger than in most other images dealing with the subject, as well as having a greater depth of emotion. There was a compassion and an empathy in the painting unseen in other religious paintings.
The only disappointing point in this fascinating exhibition was the modern work on display. Many of the pieces exhibited, especially those created in the 1980s and 1990s, had allowed the political message to take over at the expense of the piece’s aesthetic. There was no real talent for the efficient marrying of the political with the artistic, rather the political was lazily and rather vulgarly used to indicate the artist’s political opinion, instead of letting the viewer analyse and come to his/her own mind.
This exhibition was an interesting journey through the history of female artists, and was accomplished in showing, not only the talent of women artists, but also their varying status throughout the centuries.
The exhibition includes an eclectic mix of textiles, ceramics and fine art, which successfully showcases not only the traditional mediums associated with female artists, but challenged these assumptions by displaying the full and varied spectrum of art works by women.
Although the exhibition began with a display of textiles created in the 16th century, showing the intricate, delicate embroidery created by girls as young as 10 years old, it would have been interesting if the exhibition had began with even earlier work, to allow us to truly appreciate the changes in the role of the female artist, as well as in their work. However, the embroidery exhibited did show the differing purpose and aims of female art, compared to the art created by male artists in the same period. Art, especially needlework, was seen as an acceptable hobby for women which had a practical value in allowing women to create decorative pieces for the home. Furthermore, young women traditionally made their own clothes and home ware to take with them to their new marital home and this was seen as an adequate outlet for their creative talents. This was in stark contrast to the way society saw the work of male artists; art by men was seen as having a higher meaning, and a meaning of its own regardless of its lack of practical purpose.
It was only in creative households that women were given the opportunity and freedom to express their artistic abilities, and provided with the education that would enable them to flourish. Therefore, whilst viewing the exhibition it must be kept in mind that we are only seeing the work of those women who had the freedom to create art, rather than a fair representation of the talented women of the period, or even the most naturally talented artists.
The exhibition had many spectacular pieces: I am merely going to highlight some of my personal favourites.
There were beautiful pieces of ceramics on display including a most exquisite coffee set by Susan Ellis-Williams. The set had a dark background, overlaid with a stunning eastern-inspired pattern. Furthermore, there was a set by Clarice Cliff which was bursting with colour, and revealed that art does not have to be serious and sombre to be splendid.
The exhibition included a small painting, as well as a piece of metalwork by Frances McNair which illustrated her ability to represent her emotional and physical fragility through a variety of mediums. The painting in particular was an effective use of other-worldly, almost mythological images and motifs to symbolise the struggle within a woman’s life.
There were numerous paintings within the exhibition which demonstrated female artists’ willingness to challenge the status quo, and tackle subjects previously deemed suitable only for treatment by male artists, particularly so, paintings dealing with religious subjects and biblical scenes. Two religious paintings stood out for their beauty. A striking painting of St Catherine, with its rich embellishments in gold which gave the image a majestic, regal air, and a painting of the Virgin Mary and Christ surrounded by angels. The depth of colour in this work and the richness of the palette were stronger than in most other images dealing with the subject, as well as having a greater depth of emotion. There was a compassion and an empathy in the painting unseen in other religious paintings.
The only disappointing point in this fascinating exhibition was the modern work on display. Many of the pieces exhibited, especially those created in the 1980s and 1990s, had allowed the political message to take over at the expense of the piece’s aesthetic. There was no real talent for the efficient marrying of the political with the artistic, rather the political was lazily and rather vulgarly used to indicate the artist’s political opinion, instead of letting the viewer analyse and come to his/her own mind.
This exhibition was an interesting journey through the history of female artists, and was accomplished in showing, not only the talent of women artists, but also their varying status throughout the centuries.
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