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We are all aware that most of life escapes our senses: a most powerful explanation of the various arts is that they talk of patterns which we can only begin to recognize when they manifest themselves as rhythms or shapes. We observe that the behaviour of people, of crowds, of history, obeys such recurrent patterns. We hear that trumpets destroyed the walls of Jericho , we recognize that a magical thing called music can come from men in white ties and tails, blowing, waving, thumping and scraping away. Despite the absurd means that produce it, through the con­crete in music we recognize the abstract, we understand that ordinary men and their clumsy instruments are transformed by an art of possession. We may make a personality cult of the conductor, but we are aware that he is not really making the music, it is making him—if he is relaxed, open and attuned, then the invisible will take possession of him; through him, it will reach us.

Peter Brooks, The Empty Space
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masks in public [g+ backpost]

Got to do some mask work in public today, which is always a mixture of joy an trepidation. Part of a little arts festival in a local shopping centre. We nearly ended before we began when a parent complained that we had frightened her child by strolling too close to her. Security closed in and we had an interesting but irresolvable discussion of “who is to say if something is appropriate in a public space?”

Actual show went very well. Our audience of mainly mums and tots really enjoyed it and we had a hardcore half-dozen who sat at our feet and interjected whenever they could. It was ace.

We did a mixture of full mask theatrical improvisation – eg I would narrate a story to which the other actors would respond – and a few scenes of full-on trance mask involving Joe, one of the more developed masks on the European scene. The kids lit up whenever he was about, and he responded well to them too: they really do operate on the same level. For instance, I sold Joe a fizzy drink, but once he had accepted it all the kids started yelling “it’s unhealthy!” – which is totally their “obvious” but not how things were being framed by me the adult. It was hilarious and led to understandable outrage from Joe demanding his cash back. In the same way, when Joe was retelling the fable of the fox and the stork, he indicated my nose to illustrate the stork’s features. Not polite, but what stood out to him!

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You can tell whether a man is clever by his answers. You can tell whether a man is wise by his questions.

Naguib Mahfouz
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Reasons to come to Cellblock!

Cellblock! is an improvised extravaganza taking place this weekend.

It runs 26 hours from 7pm today (8th October) to 9pm tomorrow, within 2 hour slots (runs about 100-110 mins of the slot). One slot is £5, an unlimited pass is £12

So here’s why to come:


1. If you’re a busy person who normally “can’t get to shows”, this won’t apply here; you can fit it in around pretty much anything. Come at 11am tomorrow, or after a long lunch at three. Or heck, roll in at 5am after clubbing – I know some people are planning on it! Each slot starts with a bit of a recap so you can slide in to the action.
 
2.  If you haven’t seen impro before, this is a great chance to get your feet wet. Quite aside from the convenience (1.), there’s such a rich and varied cast, containing people from all kinds of groups, from Music Box to The Inflatables.

3. And this will be no ordinary impro show. So if you have seen a bit of impro before, you’d no doubt be intrigued by the idea of a hard-core cast playing characters across the entire span of the show, in an event that’s all about story, story, story. The time-honoured “mime prop box” will be augmented by genuine costumery, and the patter of the players offset by a house band. So: bigger, louder, longer.

4. And weirder. You’ve got to wonder what happens when people enter a make-believe world and remain in it unsleeping for more than a day. We wonder too! Word has it, some filters drop away and things become very interesting.

5. If you’re of the appetite, this could be a pretty unique audience experience. Because unlimited passes retail at just £12, you can dip in and out across the run – Saturday night, a Sunday matinee and back for the grand finale – or go for the ultimate, and suck up six, ten, or even 26 hours worth. (At last year’s Bristol improvathon I could only make it for the end, but managed the last eight hours, and the immersive qualities of living through that much non-stop story was pretty amazing. Like a boxed set binge if it were weaved before your eyes!)

I’m limbering up for an amazing performance experience, but it would be remiss of me not to share it with you. So why not come along for a show – or the whole thing?

Tickets are here or on the door.

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In a Donald Duck story, Scrooge McDuck fires his old butler, and asks Gyro Gearloose to build him a new, Robotic Butler instead, believing it would be more reliable, as well as less expensive. Gyro initially delivers, but Scrooge keeps making demands for expanded features, demanding that the robot — like his old butler — be able to talk, and provide insightful commentary on day-to-day matters. Gyro is stumped, but the problem gets solved when he runs across the old, laid-off butler, who wants nothing more than to get his job back. Final solution: Gyro disguises the butler as a new robot, and the “rental and service fee” for the robot is just about the same as the butler’s old salary… the butler gets his job back, and Scrooge thinks he has an infallible robot.

http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/UnroboticReveal
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The initial shiver of inspiration [for Lolita] was somehow prompted by a newspaper story about an ape in the Jardin des Plantes who, after months of coaxing by a scientist, produced the first drawing ever charcoaled by an animal: this sketch showed the bars of the poor creature’s cage.

Vladimir Nabokov in his afterword to the book. NB This article has not been identified.
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Surrealism is threatening, however, and it is interesting to note that when the Marxes moved to MGM, who were after bigger audiences and more accessible comedy, Harpo’s “magic powers” were scaled back. So while in Horse Feathers (Paramount, 1932), he accedes to the request to “cut the cards” by producing an axe from a hidden pocket and severing the pack in two, by the time of A Night At The Opera (MGM, 1935), although he still uses an axe to slice a salami, now it is lying handily on a barrel instead of being secreted mysteriously about his person.

Tom Salinsky on his blog.
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Mrs. Nacca always said that an unwritten thought is an incomplete thought. I add that an unpublished text is an incomplete text. When I have an idea, the only way I can be finished with it is to put it in front of its audience. I never worry whether they’ll be interested – that’s up to them. I answer to the idea, not to its audience.

Vincent Baker, on his blog, anyway.