Reader-submitted stories of the COVID-19 pandemic, in no more than 100 words. Read past stories here. Submit your own here.
MORNING MOURNING
I wake to the sound of chainsaws. Outside my window, on the street behind our house, is a man in a tree, trimming it, but what is that in the street? Peeking over my back fence I see an old oak, illegally felled by our new neighbors, and burst into tears.
Nothing will bring the oak back. Nothing will bring back the lives we’ve lost, or my 95-year-old grandmother, who died alone because we couldn’t visit the nursing home.
I stand alone in my backyard, in my pajamas and the bright morning sun, and mourn for the world.
— Brooke St. George (Tempe, Arizona)
RIP, Lovely Oak.
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IS IT TIME?
Not too long ago, when this last guy first became President, my favorite (and only) sister called me. “Don’t laugh and don’t tell anyone I asked you this,†she said, “but do you think it’s time to move to Canada?†I said I didn’t think so. The idea scared me. It scared me to hear it come from her. Today I want to call her. My work is almost gone. The economy is crumbling. I want to ask her, “Is it time now? Australia, maybe?†But I know what she’ll say, “No, Sweetpea, we can’t. We can’t go anywhere.â€
— Sarah Fisk (Berkeley, California)
My sister teaching me how to stick out my tongue, 1959.
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QUARANTINE ARTIST RESIDENCY
In 2020, I lose gigs and gain more time. I make less money and more art. Instead of battling crowds on trains and buses, I sink in my couch of clouds and hungrily glean through books that weigh like rocks, neglected previously not by choice but by lack of time. Instead of making do with constant disruptions of life by necessity, I relish these long days where I indulge in nothing but my own art and research. I no longer remember what day of the week it is. This silky creative thread unbroken by errands and money. A quarantine artist residency.
— Michelle Kuen Suet Fung (Hong Kong)
(Top photo: Working from home is great.)
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SELF-ISOLATING, WITH TREES
My cottage north of town borders wetlands protected by law (so far), and woods I love to walk. But Nature’s debris can trip you up. Especially if you focus on the canopies. (No crown shyness here. These trees don’t social distance.) Spent six days of quarantine clearing fallen branches. On the seventh, a storm threw down new ones. Like Sisyphus, I’ve got nothing but time. But hospitals are the new Hades. Health workers roll out one patient, Rona delivers two more. Me, I’m unemployed and high risk. All I can do is wander these woods. Five, six, pick up sticks.
— David Caudle (Putnam Valley, New York)
Sun through the pines with deer.
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This series is edited by Thomas Peterson. One of the editors of Artists & Climate Change, he is also a theatre director and researcher whose work focuses on the climate crisis.
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Artists and Climate Change is a blog that tracks artistic responses from all disciplines to the problem of climate change. It is both a study about what is being done, and a resource for anyone interested in the subject. Art has the power to reframe the conversation about our environmental crisis so it is inclusive, constructive, and conducive to action. Art can, and should, shape our values and behavior so we are better equipped to face the formidable challenge in front of us.
The Climate Stew Players present Survivor Generations 2165, an original radio drama. Turns out television programs of the future will be obsessed with the past. Hear the story of Yuri Ivanovich Petrov. As a boy, he survived the infamous 900-day siege of Leningradduring World War II. Though he experienced unimaginable hardships, he also developed inventive ways to survive. The lessons he learned during the greatest crisis of his generation can help give us hope and guidance for our own.
That winter siege nearly destroyed the city and its emaciated inhabitants. But, miraculously, many survived. Speaking of that desperate first winter of the 900-day siege, poet Olga Bergholz wrote:
That winter death looked straight into our eyes and stared long, without faltering. It wanted to hypnotize us, like a boa constrictor hypnotizes its intended victim, stripping him of his will and subjugating him. But those who sent us so much death miscalculated. They underestimated our voracious hunger for life.
Based on archival interviews from actual survivors of the siege, the Climate Stew Players weave true stories into the life of young Yuri. Learn about the resiliency and the determination of the women, children, and elderly who had to find ways to survive in spite of all the odds against them.
The Climate Stew Players use storytelling, comedy, and character-driven short radio dramas to explore climate change and human rights.
Segment music by Skaj Da Waidah, Sean Pope Domeneko, Raúl DÃaz Palomar, and J. Buckner.
Next month, creative non-fiction writer, Elizabeth Rush reveals how seeing a stage adaptation to her award winning book, Rising: Dispatches from the New American Shore, helped her see her own climate grief in a whole new light.
As host of Citizens’ Climate Radio, Peterson Toscano regularly features artists who address climate change in their work. The Art House section of his program includes singer/songwriters, visual artists, comics, creative writers, and playwrights. Through a collaboration with Artists and Climate Change and Citizens’ Climate Education, each month Peterson reissues The Art House for this blog. If you have an idea for The Art House, contact Peterson: radio @ citizensclimatelobby.org
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Artists and Climate Change is a blog that tracks artistic responses from all disciplines to the problem of climate change. It is both a study about what is being done, and a resource for anyone interested in the subject. Art has the power to reframe the conversation about our environmental crisis so it is inclusive, constructive, and conducive to action. Art can, and should, shape our values and behavior so we are better equipped to face the formidable challenge in front of us.
Reader-submitted stories of the COVID-19 pandemic, in no more than 100 words. Read past stories here. Submit your own here.
HOGANS AND HANDKERCHIEFS
I cut 9″ x 12″ cotton first. 6″ x 9″ mesh next. 7″ elastic for the ear-loops. I press the interfacing onto marginally-precise rectangles Sarah will sew into masks on her late grandmother’s Singer. To the Navajo Nation today, we mail twenty masks of nineteenth-century design. We’ll send more tomorrow, and in two days, and on for however long, heartened and determined yet dejected and guilt-ridden too. Our family’s needs and wants are easily obtainable nearby, immeasurably more accessible than the patchwork roadside convenience store/gas station/trading posts that sustain most Reservation towns. It’s clear: hogans and handkerchiefs present little resistance to viruses, obduracy, and neglect.
— Michael Silver (Phoenix, Arizona)
The current US supply chain for PPE.
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DRIVE-BY PUPPET SHOW
My family created a drive-by puppet show, lip syncing to the song “I Will Survive.†We hung red curtains over the side windows of our car, drove around to friends’ houses, texted them to come out onto their porches, cranked up the music, and let the puppets do their thing! Then we had a short visit. There is something about seeing people in person, even in a driveway and at a distance, that’s thrilling.
— Denise Kenney (Kelowna, British Columbia, Canada)
(Top photo: Drive-by puppet shows)
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I’M NOT FLOATING
These days the litter seems braver than me. The way it floats outdoors, boasting of its freedom, whilst I sit on the other side of a glass window and watch with fear. There’s been more of it lately. Litter. Gloves, crisp packets, masks, bottles. I wonder where it all came from? From brave souls working on the frontlines terrified, or from the rule-breakers? Either way, part of me is jealous. Jealous that even with a daily exercise allowance there are days I can’t make my feet step out of the front door, and the litter floats on.
— Chloe Lunn (Wales, United Kingdom)
An abandoned can dropped by a tree I pass when I brave a walk.
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SADNESS AND JOY
I wander through the neighborhood park. As I wind down the path, I come across a picnic table wrapped in yellow tape looking like the remnant of a forgotten crime scene. Further down the way, a playground is similarly treated with a homicide-like barrier, warning children to stay away. Grim reminders of our current situation assault my sensibility. I wander down a bit further and I begin to hear the soft murmur of music. As I approach, I see a young man playing a clarinet in the park. Lovely. The pandemic brings unfamiliar scenes of sadness and joy.
— Wanda Kolomyjec (Phoenix, Arizona)
Sunday morning at the children’s playground.
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This series is edited by Thomas Peterson. One of the editors of Artists & Climate Change, he is also a theatre director and researcher whose work focuses on the climate crisis.
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Artists and Climate Change is a blog that tracks artistic responses from all disciplines to the problem of climate change. It is both a study about what is being done, and a resource for anyone interested in the subject. Art has the power to reframe the conversation about our environmental crisis so it is inclusive, constructive, and conducive to action. Art can, and should, shape our values and behavior so we are better equipped to face the formidable challenge in front of us.
I recently re-read Wu Ming-Yi’s The Man with Compound Eyes (Goodreads), which takes place in Taiwan, and was thrilled to connect with the author. This chat has been partially translated, so I thank Zheng (East) Wang, from the University of British Columbia, a native Chinese language speaker who received a BA in English and a minor in Chinese Language and Culture.
On the island of Wayo Wayo, every second son must leave on the day he turns fifteen as a sacrifice to the Sea God. Atile’i is one such boy, but as the strongest swimmer and best sailor, he is determined to defy destiny and become the first to survive.
Alice Shih, who has lost her husband and son in a climbing accident, is quietly preparing to commit suicide in her house by the sea. But her plan is interrupted when a vast trash vortex comes crashing onto the shore of Taiwan, bringing Atile’i with it.
In the aftermath of the catastrophe, Atile’i and Alice retrace her late husband’s footsteps into the mountains, hoping to solve the mystery of her son’s disappearance. On their journey, memories will be challenged, an unusual bond formed, and a dark secret uncovered that will force Alice to question everything she thought she knew.
The story is humorous and sorrowful, and evokes all of the emotions in between. It reminds me that fiction might allow us a wider perspective and “gaze beyond†the facts of climate change, which we remain somewhat blinded to. The compound eye metaphor also alludes to multiple perspectives of the nature around us. Ming-Yi is one of the many authors I’ve spoken with who didn’t wholly intend to write a novel about climate change, but these issues seem to come to the story naturally.
We haven’t read anything like this novel. Ever. South America gave us magical realism – what is Taiwan giving us? A new way of telling our new reality, beautiful, entertaining, frightening, preposterous, true…. Wu Ming-Yi treats human vulnerability and the world’s vulnerability with fearless tenderness.†— Ursula K. Le Guin
Taiwan is suffering warmer temperatures, similar to many places around the world, and is predicted to continue experiencing rising sea levels and extreme storms. With the wave of young climate activists, we’ve also seen the rise of youth like Kaisanan Ahuan from Puli City, Taiwan – from the Central Taiwan Plains Indigenous People – who stated in The Guardian:
As the indigenous people of Taiwan, we have a particular vulnerability to climate change. Our traditional culture is deeply rooted in the harmony we have with the spirit of nature. We face heartbreaking loss due to increasingly extreme weather events.
CHAT WITH THE AUTHOR
The Man with Compound Eyes follows two stories, one mythical and one contemporary, about people being affected by global warming and their own personal dilemmas. It’s a very refreshing and uniquely told story. What led you to write it?
Many years ago, I read about trash vortexes in the North Pacific Ocean. Even without photos of it, a sequence of imaginary scenes kept hunting me, night and day. As time passed, those scenes became interconnected and turned into a holistic whole in my mind. They reminded me of the place where I had lived, Hualian. Hualian is a small city facing the Pacific. I have stood there and watched birds fly. Then the idea came to me that maybe one day, all the garbage would fly to the shore to meet its creators – us. In addition, my understanding of climate change and my passion for the sea led me to write the story’s first chapter.
I like the story of Atile’i and the Wayo Wayo. Is this similar to a real legend in Taiwan?
For the story, I read many books from the field of ethnography, and, of course, about a beautiful island named Lanyu and its inhabitants, Tao. Wayo Wayo is very much an ethnic group defined by the ocean, aiming to communicate with other civilizations defined by land. I also hoped to depict the complexity of the colorful Taiwanese races and ethnicities. As a result, I added the Bunun tribe onto the story.
The story of Alice is also interesting. Her home is literally becoming submerged by rising seas, and she is dealing with extreme loss and grief. What influenced your creation of this character?
I live between Taipei and Hualian. The former is a big city where people try to ignore the fact that they are living in nature; the latter is a small city located at the crossroads of a 3,000-foot mountain and the great Pacific Ocean. People who live near nature can witness the changes, and be more impacted by the fact that the environment has changed dramatically. Personal despair becomes intertwined with the further despair of comprehending the total destruction of nature. I wanted to express this feeling.
The novel addresses several environmental issues like climate change, trash vortexes, whaling, construction, and seal hunting. It’s amazing that you built these issues into a novel while just telling a great story. How do you think fiction can be a tool for exploring environmental issues?
These issues came into the story naturally. I was not adding them with intention. In the process of creating the characters, these issues simply entered their lives, so I forced myself to look into what was underneath them. I have been a part of some environmental groups, so while some topics might be unfamiliar to the general public, I knew them very well and wanted to introduce them to a wider audience.
How have you seen Taiwan change in the modern era as far as pollution, global warming, and so on?
Taiwan has been a victim of environmental degradation, due to Western companies setting up their high-pollution industries here. Of course, Taiwan also has itself to blame since its government does not protect the environment. At the moment, Taiwan is facing a choice: whether to become an environmental example for South East Asia, or to become an abandoned world craving for economic growth. Some might say that both could be achieved simultaneously, but as a country with limited resources and a declining population, as well as being under the shadow of the People’s Republic of China, this might be merely wishful thinking. Taiwan must recognize the value of its precious human culture, and at the same time, pay more attention to its natural beauty. Taiwan should fight against pollution to make a positive impact against global warming.
Thank you for the great story as well as your time with this interview. I look forward to more from you in the future!
(Top image: Wu Ming-Yi in Slovakia, courtesy of Chen Meng-Ping.)
Mary Woodbury, a graduate of Purdue University, runs Dragonfly.eco, a site that explores ecology in literature, including works about climate change. She writes fiction under pen name Clara Hume. Her novel Back to the Garden has been discussed in Dissent Magazine, Ethnobiology for the Future: Linking Cultural and Ecological Diversity (University of Arizona Press), and Uncertainty and the Philosophy of Climate Change(Routledge). Mary lives in Nova Scotia and enjoys hiking, writing, and reading.
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Artists and Climate Change is a blog that tracks artistic responses from all disciplines to the problem of climate change. It is both a study about what is being done, and a resource for anyone interested in the subject. Art has the power to reframe the conversation about our environmental crisis so it is inclusive, constructive, and conducive to action. Art can, and should, shape our values and behavior so we are better equipped to face the formidable challenge in front of us.
I have some news! I’m writing a book! Yes! A book on ecoscenography!
CALL OUT for cool sustainable design projects!
I am looking for examples of people doing great stuff in the world of sustainability and the performing arts that I can feature in my book. So, I’d love to hear about any projects people are doing around the world that are worth a mention. I really want to celebrate the exciting range of work that people are doing — everything from tiny theatre projects to massive spectacles, in both conventional and expanded practice. Especially projects that are not always celebrated the way they should be or from different parts of the world often not recognised in the Global North or English speaking context (note: this is not the time to be shy about spruiking your own work). Looking for examples across the whole spectrum of set, costume, props, lighting and sound.
Ecoscenography: an introduction of ecological design for performance
Sustainability in theatre production is the topic of my forthcoming book entitled, Ecoscenography: an introduction of ecological design for performance (Palgrave Macmillan 2021) based on my PhD research at the University of Melbourne which I completed in 2016. The monograph examines the emerging concept of ‘ecoscenography’; a neologism that I use to bring performance design into an increased awareness of broader ecologies and global issues. In the book, I argue that the current ecological crisis calls for a new philosophy for theatre production that promotes more ecological (holistic, interconnected and symbiotic) ways of doing things. Related industries, such as architecture, product design and fashion have already shown us how a sustainable ethic can create exciting new processes and aesthetics. However, we are yet to fully grasp what a socially and environmentally conscious approach entails for the performing arts.
The ephemeral and specific nature of theatrical work means that most set and costume designs are only of valued for the duration of the performance season – often a matter of days or weeks – before they are discarded. Designers are trained to work towards Opening Night. How we ‘get there’ or what happens to our sets and costumes after the production ends is often neither a priority nor a consideration. Our focus as scenographers has typically been to create ‘experiences of impermanence’ – often extravagant spectacles with little regard for the prevailing permanence of unwanted remains (seen and unseen) which persist long after the event. Unlike typical theatre productions where the performance season is precedent, ecoscenography is comprised of three stages that are considered equally fundamental to the aesthetic consideration of the work – co-creation (preproduction), celebration (production) and circulation (post-production). Drawing upon literature across the ecological worldview (Hes & du Plessis 2015), systems thinking (Meadows 2008), biomimicry (Benyus 2002), ecomaterialism (Cohena and Duckert 2013; Alaimo 2010), regenerative development (Reed 2007) and others, the book provides an introduction to ecoscenography’s theoretical and practical framework, opening up new processes and aesthetics of theatrical design that enhance the social and environmental advocacy of our field.
(Top photo: The Living Stage, Castlemaine Sate Festival 2013. Scene from Produce, created and performed by Creatability and Born in a Taxi)
Ecoscenography.com has been instigated by designer Tanja Beer – a PhD candidate at the University of Melbourne, Australia, investigating the application of ecological design principles to theatre.
Tanja Beer is a researcher and practitioner in ecological design for performance and the creator of The Living Stage – an ecoscenographic work that combines stage design, permaculture and community engagement to create recyclable, biodegradable and edible performance spaces. Tanja has more than 15 years professional experience, including creating over 50 designs for a variety of theatre companies and festivals in Australia (Sydney Opera House, Melbourne International Arts Festival, Queensland Theatre Company, Melbourne Theatre Company, Arts Centre) and overseas (including projects in Vienna, London, Cardiff and Tokyo).
Since 2011, Tanja has been investigating sustainable practices in the theatre. International projects have included a 2011 Asialink Residency (Australia Council for the Arts) with the Tokyo Institute of Technology and a residency with the Royal Central School of Speech and Drama (London) funded by a Norman Macgeorge Scholarship from the University of Melbourne. In 2013, Tanja worked as “activist-in-residence†at Julie’s Bicycle (London), and featured her work at the 2013 World Stage Design Congress (Cardiff)
Tanja has a Masters in Stage Design (KUG, Austria), a Graduate Diploma in Performance Making (VCA, Australia) and is currently a PhD candidate at the University of Melbourne where she also teaches subjects in Design Research, Scenography and Climate Change. A passionate teacher and facilitator, Tanja has been invited as a guest lecturer and speaker at performing arts schools and events in Australia, Canada, the USA and UK. Her design work has been featured in The Age and The Guardian and can be viewed at www.tanjabeer.com
Tell us about your acts of climate courage or those of others – human or non-human – in no more than 100 words.
No one willing to face the reality of the climate crisis can do so without fearing for the fate of the planet and its inhabitants. Yet, day after day, countless numbers of us transcend this fear through acts of courage, big and small. Whether we plant a garden, protest a pipeline, or find ways to adapt to our changing environment, we dare to envision and build a better future.
Courage (noun): the ability to do something that frightens one; strength in the face of pain or grief.
In the spirit of the New York TimesTiny Love Stories, and following in the footsteps of our Tiny Coronavirus Stories, we invite you to send us your true story of climate courage, in 100 words or fewer, using the form below.
We’ll publish the most inspiring stories we receive. These will form our Stories of Climate Courage collection – a testament and reminder of what we can do individually and collectively.
We look forward to reading you.
(Photo by Joan Sullivan)
While you may submit more than one story, please wait two weeks between each submission. Accepted stories may be edited for clarity and content. We will contact you if we need additional information.
Artists and Climate Change is a blog that tracks artistic responses from all disciplines to the problem of climate change. It is both a study about what is being done, and a resource for anyone interested in the subject. Art has the power to reframe the conversation about our environmental crisis so it is inclusive, constructive, and conducive to action. Art can, and should, shape our values and behavior so we are better equipped to face the formidable challenge in front of us.
Following a successful joint proposal to the Scottish Graduate School for Arts & Humanities between the University of Glasgow and Creative Carbon Scotland, we are delighted to invite applications for a fully funded PhD studentship.
The interdisciplinary project – “Assessing arts-based interventions for sustainable practice†– will observe a range of creative interventions, critically reflect upon them as both artistic creations and mechanisms for change within an Energy and Environmental Humanities framework, and develop a portable qualitative framework for the design and assessment of arts-based interventions.
The successful candidate will spend time with Creative Carbon Scotland assessing what makes arts-based interventions effective in realising sustainable cultural and social changes at the local, institutional and regional level.
University of Glasgow’s Dr Tom Bartlett from the School of Critical Studies and Dr Richard Williams from the School of Geographical & Earth Sciences will supervise this AHRC Collaborative Doctoral studentship, due to commence in Autumn 2020.
Deadline for applications is Friday 3rd July 2020.
Creative Carbon Scotland is a partnership of arts organisations working to put culture at the heart of a sustainable Scotland. We believe cultural and creative organisations have a significant influencing power to help shape a sustainable Scotland for the 21st century.
In 2011 we worked with partners Festivals Edinburgh, the Federation of Scottish Threatre and Scottish Contemporary Art Network to support over thirty arts organisations to operate more sustainably.
We are now building on these achievements and working with over 70 cultural organisations across Scotland in various key areas including carbon management, behavioural change and advocacy for sustainable practice in the arts.
Our work with cultural organisations is the first step towards a wider change. Cultural organisations can influence public behaviour and attitudes about climate change through:
Changing their own behaviour; Communicating with their audiences; Engaging the public’s emotions, values and ideas.
Reader-submitted stories of the COVID-19 pandemic, in no more than 100 words. Read past stories here. Submit your own here.
OUT FROM INSIDE
I am used to looking through these four walls, my mind running reels of a real life I can’t afford to slip into. I decide to start a master’s program online, because sometimes you have to borrow money to make money, right? I usually enjoy my own company, but long days alone leave me lonesome. I begin volunteering at a co-working space. I’m settling in. Then COVID-19 spreads. Again, I study from home, but this time I’m not lonely. From inside I used to see people meet in the park. Now nobody does, and I think, “welcome to my world.â€
— Virginia Dowdell (Edmonton, Alberta, Canada)
Looking out from inside.
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SINKING INTO MY COUCH CUSHIONS
All we have is time dripping from our window frames, pushing light across our rooms. I wake hoping for the news to say I can go out and play but fearing that news might come too soon. I watch friends thriving in the new normal, taking advantage of new opportunities as I sink further into my couch cushions, overwhelmed by the silence of former employers. I am numbed by Tiger Kings and Office reruns passing the time like a fast forward button stuck on an old VCR. Watching my future fall through the cracks like flour through a sifter.
— Perry Hunt(Chicago, Illinois)
Sinking into my couch cushions.
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WHAT I REMIND MYSELF
When headlines on television screens are a universal sigh, you will try to live again. You will touch your steering wheel for the first time in months. It will radiate warmth. You will wonder if the entire sun is inside it. Your friends will be changed. They will hug you. You won’t remember the last time another body embraced you. You will try to live in moments, not hypotheticals. You will spark conversation with a young stranger one day. They will ask what you have learned from the pandemic. You will say you learned to live… to live well.
The corporations tell me they are “here for me†in “these difficult times.†They also urge me to buy “sassy WFH clothes†and celebratory outfits for the moment when we can finally “venture out again.†Meanwhile, I wander my neighborhood, picking citrus from overhanging trees. I trade a dozen grapefruits for a loaf of banana bread from my neighbor. I exchange a bag of oranges for some bath soaks from a friend. I pay for a face mask from a colleague with cash and a pile of lemons. I wonder what capitalism will look like when this is all over.
— Jennifer Sandlin (Tempe, Arizona)
Collecting citrus on a walk.
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This series is edited by Thomas Peterson. One of the editors of Artists & Climate Change, he is also a theatre director and researcher whose work focuses on the climate crisis.
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Artists and Climate Change is a blog that tracks artistic responses from all disciplines to the problem of climate change. It is both a study about what is being done, and a resource for anyone interested in the subject. Art has the power to reframe the conversation about our environmental crisis so it is inclusive, constructive, and conducive to action. Art can, and should, shape our values and behavior so we are better equipped to face the formidable challenge in front of us.
Lead Editor’s note: We will be publishing excerpts from Q18: dis/sustain/ability, guest edited by Bronwyn Preece, in order to make the content accessible to blind readers with audio screen readers. We’ll also be including audio descriptions of the Quarterly’s original layout designed by Stephanie Plenner, audio described ky Katie Murphy. Please stay tuned for future posts and share widely. In thischapter, Ray Jacobs discusses the process of creating “Four Solos in the Wild.”
Audio Description of Four Solos in the Wild by Katie Murphy
Four Solos in the Wild By Ray Jacobs
I am in a familiar situation — a circle of twelve talented learning-disabled dancers from Arty Party — partaking of the ritual known as warming up. Each performer takes their turn to lead, taking their moment in the spotlight and passing it on to the next performer… Each performer has a distinct movement language honed through a lifetime of dance and movement based projects, or simply their own indomitable style.
Mervyn (Performers’ names used with permission) begins, with movements and gestures that have power, gravitas and yet they still hold qualities of softness. Graham, who has an incredible graceful sense of wingspan within his arms, beguiles us with his bird-like movement. Erika brings weaves a lightness of moving with contagious joy and laughter to match. Andrew, all angles and emotion, falls into the drama of dancing, daring us to be part of that drama. Dean adds his twisting, repetitive and darkly comedic movements of subterfuge.
My name is Ray Jacobs, director of performance projects for Arty Party, a learning- disability arts organisation based in Shropshire, England. Four Solos in the Wild, is a touring exhibition of dance solos filmed in ancient wild woods. This is the story of how the project evolved from a moment’s desire, into — two years later — learning-disabled performers sharing their work with the public at the Tate Modern Museum in London. I speak as an observer, a facilitator, a director and a learner in this unfolding process.
The warm-up sparked the initial spark. During it, I had a growing hunger for this movement to be shared within a landscape that meets the performers incredible qualities and Tycanol Woods came to mind. I wondered what if the performers were to respond to, be taken up by, and place their movements within the magical Tycanol Woods?
Months later, seven learning disabled performers and a team of artists arrived at Pentre Ifan Centre in the Woods. After hastily unpacking sleeping bags and choosing bunk beds, we began a ritual of filling water bottles, donning walking boots, cagoules (waterproof jackets), and gathering for adventure. Support, patience, openness and laughter replaced habitual urgency.
The movement solo, especially when created by the performer, is an intensely artistic and personal statement. This, I felt, would be the right channel for the performers to create and have agency over their own work. We would be creating an installation of four film screens, showing each solo continually looped, surrounded by a forest of images of the performers captured by dance photographer Chris Nash.
Movement facilitator, Simon Whitehead, led us through the atmospheric Tycanol Woods, where, like a many-legged creature finding its pace after a long time immobile, we found a rhythm and a pace that suited everyone. We splashed, splattered, crunched, and slid. There are members of the company who find uneven surfaces challenging, but the group met squelchy mud, slippery rocks and glorious cushions of moss, with creativity, cooperation and laughter. The excitement and group impetus gave energy and verve to everyone. Playfulness is a strong, committed member of the group.
During the walk we stopped at a glade opening, deeply moss covered rocks and oaks in the foreground, an island of oaks on the horizon. The instructions were to walk towards the horizon and find a place to be, within the landscape. Once the first person arrived and settled, the next person was to follow and find their own place in relation to both the landscape and the other performer, and so on. Half the group witnessed the forming of this landscape portrait. The act of walking into an opening, being in a chosen place, alive to the environment, felt like a statement of sovereignty over our bodies, yet at the same time we were supported by each other and the landscape. We returned, one at a time, leaving no physical trace of the group but inhabiting it with memories.
Tycanol Woods is an ancient dark oak woodland, rich in moss, fern and lichen. Towards the hostel is a more recent, lighter part of the woods, with a mixture of beech, oak, sycamore and holly, ideal for bonfires and days when we don’t want to walk quite so far. Gathering the performers around an old fire pit, amongst a group of large beech trees, Simon gave the performers a task in pairs: one person leads, listening, seeing, touching the environment as they walk through the woods. The other follows. The leader is looking for a place that resounds, feels right, invites. Once the right place is found, the leader becomes dancer, spends time connecting with this place and then with eyes closed begins to move. When the dance comes to an end, eye contact is made between the mover and witness and the roles are reversed. Solos are created.
As a group we visit each solo. Graham Busby has chosen some long forgotten dens made of branches. He hides and scurries between the old dens like a hermit crab. His witness, Wren, aids the shell building, covering Graham’s body with leaves and branches. Erika Juniper dances around the base of a big beech tree, a dance of fingers sensing and listening, a powerful connection and longing.
Back in the studio the work was recalled in writing and drawing, and re-enacted, each performer was allocated a mentor who supported this recording process. These tasks of listening, moving and witnessing, and performance immersion within landscape, were all contributing to building the personal stories, the structure and the flavors of each performer’s solo.
Whitehead shares memories of the retreat:
Slowly, Tycanol entered us, and the dancers became quietly attuned the place and each other…
Real time seemed to drop away and a process of composition, song and observation took us through the falling afternoon light for hours. It was both ‘real’ and sublime.
I remember a talk by disability activist Petra Kuppers, at a conference in Ilfracombe, during which she stated that there was a strong need in disability performance to present ‘depth, heft and presence.’ This phrase has become an inner mantra and was one of the beacons moving this work forward.
Dance, historically, has been a bastion of the body perfect. An art form based on perfection is like a road ignoring all contours and cutting through the landscape with no regard and ultimately a heavy cost. Inclusive dance, on the other hand, is open to meanderings, diversions, the beauty of curves, twists, and setbacks.
Facilitating disabled performers to make their own work or collaborating with disabled people is not a separate field, or something adjunct to the mainstream but at the very heart of being human.
Returning to the Woods two weeks later, we had the task of honing the solos, creating music and costume and filming all four solos in five days. The performers were joined by Welsh composers and musicians Ceri and Elsa, supported by mentors, and followed by film makers.
The musicians had researched traditional music composed in the region. Morning movement sessions, led by inclusive dance artist Rachel Liggitt, forged an incredible link between performers and musicians. The musicians learned to respond to the dancers and the dancers, breathing in the notes of harp and fiddle, breathed out beautiful, moving dance.
“It felt so good being out in the woods by the tree, spending time with it.†– Erika, performer.
Erika’s solo was woven together with the song a Cantref that the musicians had unearthed. The song is a message from a yearning lover sung to a bird who would relay the message to her heart’s desire. Erika’s dance of whispering, tender strokes and circling the tree sparked our imagination… Erika, in a flowing purple gown, performs the solo with incredible concentration and presence. The musician’s voices add atmosphere to this scene in the heart of the woods. When Erika reaches out to touch the tree and the haunting Welsh voices begin, it is deeply moving. Performers, camera crew, mentors, and support artists are mesmerized and applaud every take.
“I’m feeling really good today, we did the filming, it was really wicked.†– Erika
Whilst given the space to find their own creativity, the performers were provided with rigorous direction, feedback, mentoring and critique, enabling them to work to the highest professional standard. I remember as a performer in an inclusive touring dance company, during a physically and emotional gruelling devising process, the disabled dancers stated critically that they did not receive the wrath and demands of the director as much as the non-disabled dancers. Arty Party’s process aimed not to recapitulate inequality.
One of the ground rules we had been given was to ‘be here and now’… amongst the calls of ravens, rush of streams and flight of the air. Andrew Kelly, one of the performers, initially struggled with this: falling into dramas of ‘another world’: being chased, dodging bullets, breaking down doors. I suggested a simple score of calling out loud the things we feel and the things we see right here: the edge of a leaf, the roughness of lichen, the call of a raven, a distant aeroplane, the snap of a branch underfoot. Opening the door to the present also invites all the things we are avoiding.
Andrew’s dance Letting Go was the last piece to be filmed, on dappled ground under the canopy of a sinuous oak: harpist, fiddle player, film crew and Andrew in spring sunshine, making sense of it all. During an interview, Andrew put his solo into words:
Breaking out from the cage of branches is finding my freedom.
Touching the sapling gently, I remember my Mother’s love.
I break and throw the branches, I feel raw with anger about my mother’s death.
Letting go of the branch is just that, letting go of it all and starting anew.
During the post-production process the films were edited exactly as they were performed, using shots from different camera angles to bring out the best.
Community dance pioneer, Cecilia Macfarlane, once shared during a lecture at Coventry University, that “Every project has a storm, it might happen at any time but I assure you it will.†The storm happened three weeks after getting back from filming, when we all found out that Dean Warburton and his mother had been killed in a car crash on the way to the workshop.
The remainder of this workshop and others during the following weeks were amongst the most emotionally challenging myself and my colleagues had ever facilitated. Performers and teachers shared so much grief, attempts at running a class regularly breaking down, with the whole group sharing memories and in tears. Attending Dean’s funeral with group members really brought it home. Three weeks before, we were in beautiful woods exploring the idea of burying each other amongst branches, moss and birdsong, with the usual funny, soft, expressive Dean, and here we were at his funeral, Dean’s larger than life body in a wooden coffin being carried gently by his family.
The Four Solos in the Wild opening was to be a celebration of the exhibition and a wake for the life of Dean. It was only upon setting up the four screens, each showing a looped solo, that we realized how beautifully they worked together as a quartet. Many people working at the theatre entered the space and were mesmerized by this quartet of solos – actions, gestures and stories full of presence and connection. Arty Party has a membership of one hundred, many of whom were present. The opening was a beautiful, wild, red carpet event.
The exhibition toured seven UK venues. At each opening the performers spoke to the public about the project and their solos, each time growing in confidence. When the exhibition was shown locally, it was a chance for the learning-disabled performers to share their work with support workers, family and friends. To hear how people were moved by the presence, qualities of movement, sense of inner story, was music to our ears. The performers grew visibly in stature through the process of sharing their work and the positive public response.
We are currently preparing for the project finale, a sharing of the filmed solos at the Tate Modern Cinema, organised by learning-disability film festival Oska Bright. Presenters have been Skyping with the performers on a regular basis. The performers will be invited to talk about their work in front of an audience of learning-disabled people, film festival programmers and curators. From the ancient woods of Tycanol to the South Bank in London, it will be a fitting finale to quite an adventure…
Biography
Ray Jacobs is a UK based artist who uses the mediums of image, film and movement to highlight the beauty, power and presence in the narratives that surround us. Ray works as a director and facilitator, creating imaginative and powerful works with a wide variety of companies, performers and participatory groups in particular collaborating with disabled artists. He states, “I aim in my work to create movement and image which steps quietly into the human heartâ€.
His recent multi award-winning short films include The Sea Reminds Me and Bastion. He is currently developing a new film based project with Arty Party based on the writings of Canadian Sci Fi author Jeff Vandermeer.
Creative Carbon Scotland is seeking a technically minded and suitably experienced individual to help with everyday administration as well as financial systems.Â
Details of the Administration and Finance Officer role
Hours: part-time (30 hours per week)
Salary: £25,000 pro rata (i.e. £20,000 for a 30-hour week)
Location: Edinburgh
Fixed term role: July 2020 to 31st March 2021 (with a view to extend depending on funding)
Deadline for applications: 5pm, Monday 22nd June 2020
Creative Carbon Scotland believes that the arts and culture have an essential role to play in achieving the transformational change to a sustainable future. With the Scottish Government’s strengthened ambition to make Scotland a world leader in addressing the climate emergency and a cultural sector keen and equipped to play its part, we are busier than ever and our growing, committed and friendly team is working on ambitious projects in both the climate change and cultural spheres. Therefore, we are seeking a technically minded and suitably experienced individual to join us to help with everyday administration as well as financial systems to ensure that we are working effectively at this demanding but exciting time.
Key responsibilities
1. Ensuring that our office and remote-working services enable the charity to operate effectively (40%) by:
a) ensuring that our Microsoft Office Sharepoint, Teams, document management, communications and other IT systems are up to date and working at the highest level
b) developing, maintaining and improving office systems, including our contacts database, and ensuring that we comply with GDPR
c) ensuring that equipment and resources are fit for purpose, fully functional and comply with relevant health and safety standards
d) liaising with the Facilities team in our host organisation and supporting team members in effective and safe home-working
2. Maintaining financial systems and other records (20%), including:
a) processing invoices and payments working with the bookkeeper
b) managing online and paper finance files
c) monitoring expenditure and income relating to our IT subscriptions and reporting regularly on these
d) ensuring compliance with funders’ requirements including regular reporting
3. Providing administrative support for all staff as appropriate, including organising CCS meetings (including quarterly Board meetings), travel, events and projects, both face-to-face and virtual, and involving a range of participants from local to national and international (10%)
4. Ensuring internal communication is effective (10%), including:
a) organising and minuting weekly team meetings
b) managing our effective use of Microsoft Teams
c) managing incoming contact via the corporate email and phone
5. Ensuring that all CCS staff understand how to use office equipment, tools and resources, including software, and provide support and training as required (5%)
6. Providing administrative support in the recruitment and induction of freelance and employed staff (5%)
7. Supporting the communications work of CCS (5%)
8. Other duties as required, including ensuring that our Equalities, Diversity and Inclusion Action Plan is considered and acted upon in all the above areas.  (5%)
Person specification
We will use evidence of these skills and experience in your application to select candidates for interview, so please make sure that you fit the requirements and demonstrate this in your answers to the questions on the application form.
NB: due to the fixed-term nature of the role and Creative Carbon Scotland’s circumstances, this opportunity is only open to those who already have the right to work in the UK.
Essential
A high level of organisational, administrative and customer service skills
Experience of office and/or home-working management and administration, including practices to reduce the environmental impact of these
Excellent knowledge and understanding of best practice in data protection and information security, human resources, and equalities, diversity and inclusion
Excellent IT skills including in-depth knowledge of Microsoft Office suite (including SharePoint and Microsoft Teams), virtual and remote working software and tools, wi-fi connectivity solutions and printer/scanner interface
Good knowledge of using social media for business purposes
Excellent interpersonal, oral and written communication skills
A high level of transferable skills, including attention to detail and problem-solving, time management, confidentiality and discretion
Flexible and proactive with the ability to prioritise effectively
Flair and imagination
Desirable
Experience of providing guidance, both spoken and written, in new administrative procedures, use of IT equipment and software
How to apply
Please read carefully and then follow the instructions in the application form [HERE]. The form will ask you to make clear why you are interested in this role and to demonstratehow your experience and skills match those outlined above.
As part of your application, please complete our Equalities Monitoring Survey. The application form will ask you to confirm that you have done so. NB: This is anonymous and the information provided will not affect your application in any way.
If you would like to discuss the role or have any questions, please contact Alexis Woolley.
The closing date for applications is 5pm on Monday 22nd June 2020.
Interviews will be held remotely on Monday 29th June (and Tuesday 30th June, if necessary).
Creative Carbon Scotland is a partnership of arts organisations working to put culture at the heart of a sustainable Scotland. We believe cultural and creative organisations have a significant influencing power to help shape a sustainable Scotland for the 21st century.
In 2011 we worked with partners Festivals Edinburgh, the Federation of Scottish Threatre and Scottish Contemporary Art Network to support over thirty arts organisations to operate more sustainably.
We are now building on these achievements and working with over 70 cultural organisations across Scotland in various key areas including carbon management, behavioural change and advocacy for sustainable practice in the arts.
Our work with cultural organisations is the first step towards a wider change. Cultural organisations can influence public behaviour and attitudes about climate change through:
Changing their own behaviour; Communicating with their audiences; Engaging the public’s emotions, values and ideas.
