ARTSADMIN (Stacy Makishi)
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| Stacy Makishi |
1|11|19
Looking
back on the work we did with Stacy from this far in the future is a strange
experience. Like many significant moments in life, it’s hard to hold onto the particular
feelings I know I felt throughout
that week. I recognise them more intellectually, rather than emotionally, as
the context has changed – there’s no more Stacy, no more intense CPPM schedule
(for now), no more tasks. It’s been a topic of conversation as to how we could,
if we even could, hold onto the conditions she brought to us, and how we can
bring it into new situations with new artists and groups. There’s many notes
taken in my notebook on this, but the following are a small selection:
1) The cultivation of your own
space and making process.
This one is multifaceted. Your own space is not
difficult to come across, and I’m sure many creatives understand a semblance of
their own making process. When the difficulty comes, at least for me, is the ownership of that space and process. In
the past my work has always felt made through skirting the outsides of the understood
and accepted “method” of devising. Even though the results are just as worthy.
Part of this could be that I see my process as somewhat invalid – a shortcut. With
time, I hope to cultivate and accept my personal process as valid.
When it comes to your space, that can be a very
difficult thing to promote when you’re sharing the space with a handful of
other, equally as determined creatives. Something I have enjoyed doing in the
past is the check-ins and check-outs that Stacy encouraged in each session, as
it allows each member of the group to validate their feelings and thoughts as
valid and welcome in the room. As a second task, I also like to create group
playlists for warmups, for similar reasons.
I think there’s also something in having a sense of
ownership in the space. The same sense of ownership we have in our own homes,
for instance. You might not be able to really let go if you’re thinking about how
you’re behaving or making in this space that is not your own. Since we’re so
conditioned to be polite when in someone else’s space (something I think I’m
very conscious of), it’s not conducive to be so polite in the creative room.
2) “I got your back”
This one’s easy, but necessary, and links to the
idea of owning your space. Just by saying to one another that you have each-other’s
backs can really bring a sense of belonging, and therefore possibly ownership of
the space and process. Even the very artificial concept that Stacy explored
with us, whereby she paired us up and had us be a cheerleader for one another,
helped tremendously to foster belonging in the space. It reminds me of the equally
as artificial encouragement exercise that Agnieszka showed us – the artificiality
of it does eventually fade away and leave us with a real genuine elation.
3) The river of shame.
Possibly the most encompassing
new element brought to us by Stacy, and possibly the hardest to emulate in the
future, was the “river of shame”. A fictional entity that we could place all
our anxiety and worry on, Stacy used it as a metaphorical excuse to instil a sense
of carefree in our various creative tasks. Since we were performing and “showing
up” in the river of shame, we had the group bestowed capacity to perform
something shameful or embarrassing, because that’s where we were. Obviously,
there’s a huge amount of talk in the creative process to do with giving yourself
permission to fail, but I can confidently say I’ve never been able to
experience that freedom until now. The imaginary tangibility of this river of
shame really did allow you to imagine everything you making just washing away
after the fact. No-one could judge you either, because you’re in the river of
shame and what did they expect?
The moment this fell apart for me a little was in the open class in front of an audience. Even though they had been given a short talk on these concepts, it really takes a few days of exposure to really understand the ideas, so I found it hard to invest in the river of shame when I knew the audience wasn’t in the same headspace. So much of it relies on the other people in the room. You can either not care about their thoughts on your work, or you can set up a concept like the river of shame – the latter just requires more time and investment. Both are valid too – the river could be ideal for a devising process towards a full piece, whereas the not caring (or as I want to start thinking of as “the ownership of your space”) could be best for shorter term processes.
The moment this fell apart for me a little was in the open class in front of an audience. Even though they had been given a short talk on these concepts, it really takes a few days of exposure to really understand the ideas, so I found it hard to invest in the river of shame when I knew the audience wasn’t in the same headspace. So much of it relies on the other people in the room. You can either not care about their thoughts on your work, or you can set up a concept like the river of shame – the latter just requires more time and investment. Both are valid too – the river could be ideal for a devising process towards a full piece, whereas the not caring (or as I want to start thinking of as “the ownership of your space”) could be best for shorter term processes.
4) Performative responses.
Possibly the most practically applicable of all of
these concepts is that of performative responses. In Stacy’s workshop contexts,
they were simply a way for each of us to provide a response to each-other’s
works that manifested in a performance of our favourite concepts taken further.
It was fun, interesting, and kep everyone engaged in the room.
It wasn’t really until our post-Stacy-class-chat when
someone pointed out the ulterior effect of this that I realised the
significance of the concept. It changed my thinking completely from a judgement,
“is this good or bad?” to a creative lens of “creatively, what can I do?”.
Ergo, some of our best work came out, and since I knew that someone was going to make work further off of what I was performing, I felt more a sense of giving with the work. I think a sense of giving is very important, and I think that’s something Stacy was able to cultivate with us all.
Ergo, some of our best work came out, and since I knew that someone was going to make work further off of what I was performing, I felt more a sense of giving with the work. I think a sense of giving is very important, and I think that’s something Stacy was able to cultivate with us all.
13|09|19
I
want to talk about the concept defined Stacy as your “greatest hits.” These are
the things you are good at – the skills and performances that got you where you
are today. To say that, if someone saw a show consisting of these elements,
they could potentially recognise it as your own.
Personally
speaking, I have a “greatest hits”. I didn’t realise this fact until the 3rd
show I made consisting of these various elements came to fruition, and the joke
was thrown around of “classic Marshall”. I was the one making these jokes too, because
all through my dramatic education, there seemed to be a culture of consistently
needing to reinvent yourself, to try something new and bold and original. From
a training standpoint, I understand this completely, as an attitude to expand
your range and discover potential new interests.
If it wasn’t for being pushed in the direction of physical theatre at WAAPA, I
would probably still be stuck trying to achieve a career as a straight
text-based actor.
On
the other hand, I think this attitude can create a lot of pressure on the
individual to not run with their
instincts – again, a useful way to find expansion and range – but, potentially
problematic for the creative process. I say this because this week Stacy was
able to help shift me into an attitude of non-judgement and non-comparison, a
place I am entirely not used to, and make some solos. I ran with my first instincts,
and they were good. I was proud, I was satisfied, I wasn’t comparing, and they
weren’t even in the realms of my past works!
I’m not entirely sure what this is beyond a simple pondering. I would regret to make any sweeping claims, but it’s been food for thought, especially within the current solo making process. I think I’ve been working so inefficiently in waiting for the “right idea” to strike before I begin making anything, because I’ve been waiting for an idea that is not of my style. The only issue is, that’s fucking hard to do. I want to begin this work now, with what I want to do, and change can come later. Maybe the first draft will some classic audio manipulation tied in with movement, but then at least I have a base to work off of – the audio manipulation may go, and maybe even my movement. God forbid, maybe I’ll end up writing a monologue.
I’m not entirely sure what this is beyond a simple pondering. I would regret to make any sweeping claims, but it’s been food for thought, especially within the current solo making process. I think I’ve been working so inefficiently in waiting for the “right idea” to strike before I begin making anything, because I’ve been waiting for an idea that is not of my style. The only issue is, that’s fucking hard to do. I want to begin this work now, with what I want to do, and change can come later. Maybe the first draft will some classic audio manipulation tied in with movement, but then at least I have a base to work off of – the audio manipulation may go, and maybe even my movement. God forbid, maybe I’ll end up writing a monologue.
Something
this has also made me consider: how important is having a style and aesthetic
to the success of an artistic career? No-one remembers the artists who kept
changing what they did every day (I’m sure this is a point that could be
argued, but yolo with the sweeping statements, right?). We remember Pina
because she had something that was so uniquely Pina. So many artists I admire can be recognised from their works,
and maybe that’s okay. Art isn’t a competition for how radical you can make each
work – it’s how you can make people feel.
I
want to keep expanding my range, for sure. I did stand-up comedy this week, and
it was pretty bad, but I did it and now that’s something I can maybe draw on in
the future. However, I don’t want to necessarily sacrifice my ability to make
art, by thinking too hard about how I make it.
10|09|19
The
greatest irony so far in our sessions with Stacy Makishi, has been my
overwhelming sense of inferiority and anxiousness around so many of the
exercises. Ironic, because, the point of these workshops all seem to be about letting
go of this shame and embracing freedom and support.
I
simply keep getting in my own way. This feeling I am experiencing right now as
a hangover from our last class with Stacy is not unfamiliar. In fact, now that I am reflecting on it, it’s a
fairly common part of my artistic practice so far, which, is probably not a
good thing.
I
feel like a lot of it comes from a place of comparing myself to others, even in
class exercises. For example, even when we were told to perform the worst
possible version of our upcoming solo piece, I still felt like I had failed at
that – precisely because I kept seeing each person after me get more laughs and
more applause. Obviously, this is subjective, and even while writing this I have
an understanding that this might not even be true, and that laughter and applause
volume is not indicative of quality. Also, the task was to perform the worst version of the piece, yet I’m still caught up on these qualifiers that
everyone else seemingly received.
I
think Stacy has come at a really good time. I keep making from this place of
insecurity, and aside from the moments I’ve experienced as above, there have
been some wonderfully liberating moments.
Future
Marshall – if you come back and read this (which you better do) then relax.
Stop comparing yourself to everyone else. It doesn’t matter. No-one cares what
you do in some in-class exercise one time. You do good work, so just chill out
and breathe.