Release:A Theatre of Witness Documentary

‘RELEASE’ a documentary by Declan Keeney

Everyone has a past; but should they be defined by it? The legacy of the conflict in Northern Ireland weighs heavily on many of those who experienced it. The pain and loss is as relevant today as it was 30 years ago. The act of remembering itself can be a difficult and dangerous journey. The documentary film 'Release' shot and directed by Declan Keeney explores the life stories of six remarkable men, told in their own words and in their own way through an original Theatre of Witness production of the same name that toured Northern Ireland and the Border Counties in 2012. The film explores themes of forgiveness, remembering and the pain of living with our ever-present past.
With great courage and conviction, a former RUC detective, a former Prison Governor, a former British soldier, two ex-prisoners and a community activist who survived a car bomb as a child come together across the sectarian divide to create a group of men working for peace. Their journey is at times heart breaking, extraordinary, breathtakingly brave but ultimately transformational. It is a story of survival, but most importantly it is their story and in their own words.

"Theatre of the dancing language" : new possibilities in contemporary Australian playwrighting

This study focuses on trends in contemporary Australian playwrighting, discussing recent investigations into the playwrighting process. The study analyses the current state of this country’s playwrighting industry, with a particular focus on programming trends since 1998. It seeks to explore the implications of this current theatrical climate, in particular the types of work most commonly being favoured for production. It argues that Australian plays are under-represented (compared to non-Australian plays) on ‘mainstream’ stages and that audiences might benefit from more challenging modes of writing than the popular three-act realist play models. The thesis argues that ‘New Lyricism’ might fill this position of offering an innovative Australian playwrighting mode. New Lyricism is characterised by a set of common aesthetics, including a non-linear narrative structure, a poetic use of language and magic realism. Several Australian playwrights who have adopted this mode of writing are identified and their works examined. The author’s play Floodlands is presented as a case study and the author’s creative process is examined in light of the published critical discussions about experimental playwriting work.

Developing a theatre of the integrated actor : the application of the Suzuki actor training method within three theatrical contexts

This research project examines the application of the Suzuki Actor Training Method (the Suzuki Method) within the work ofTadashi Suzuki's company in Japan, the Shizuoka Performing Arts Complex (SPAC), within the work of Brisbane theatre company Frank:Austral Asian Performance Ensemble (Frank:AAPE), and as related to the development of the theatre performance Surfacing. These three theatrical contexts have been studied from the viewpoint of a "participant- observer". The researcher has trained in the Suzuki Method with Frank:AAPE and SP AC, performed with Frank:AAPE, and was the solo performer and collaborative developer in the performance Surfacing (directed by Leah Mercer). Observations of these three groups are based on a phenomenological definition of the "integrated actor", an actor who is able to achieve a totality or unity between the body and the mind, and between the body and the voice, through a powerful sense of intention. The term "integrated actor" has been informed by the philosophy of Merleau-Ponty and his concept of the "lived body". Three main hypotheses are presented in this study: that the Suzuki Method focuses on actors learning through their body; that the Suzuki Method presents an holistic approach to the body and the voice; and that the Suzuki Method develops actors with a strong sense of intention. These three aspects of the Suzuki Method are explored in relation to the stylistic features of the work of SPAC, Frank:AAPE and the performance Surfacing.

Performing design analysis: game design creativity and the theatre of the impressed

We report and reflect upon the early stages of a research project that endeavours to establish a culture of critical design thinking in a tertiary game design course. We first discuss the current state of the Australian game industry and consider some perceived issues in game design courses and graduate outcomes. The second sec-tion presents our response to these issues: a project in progress which uses techniques originally exploited by Augusto Boal in his work, Theatre of the Oppressed. We appropriate Boal’s method to promote critical design thinking in a games design class. Finally, we reflect on the project and the ontology of design thinking from the perspective of Bruce Archer’s call to reframe design as a ‘third academic art’.

Performing design: game design, practice, praxis and the theatre of the impressed

This paper is a reflection on a design teaching project that endeavours to establish a culture of critical design thinking in a tertiary game design course. In the first instance, the ‘performing design’ project arose as a response to contemporary issues and tensions in the Australian games industry and game design education, in essence, the problem of how to scaffold undergraduate students from their entry point as ‘players’ (the impressed) into becoming designers. The performing design project therefore started as a small-scale intervention to inspire reflection in a wider debate that includes: the potential evolution of the contemporary games industry; the purpose of game design education; and the positioning of game design as a design discipline. Our position is that designing interactive playful works or games is victim of a tendency to simplify the discipline and view it from either the perspective of science or art. In this paper we look at some of the historical discussions on the distinct identity of games. Then we present an overview of the typical state of play in contemporary game design education which inspires the performing design project as an intervention or teaching technique. This leads us to question understandings of education and training and creativity and innovation. Finally we reflect on insights arising from the performing design project which lead us to support Archer’s call for a ‘third area’ that balances the monolithic practices of the two major academic disciplines.

Dublin 1916: theatre of revolt

At Easter 1916, Dublin city centre was one of a series of sites throughout Ireland where a rebellion was staged against British rule. It was a strategic failure, swiftly crushed by superior British forces. The event, however, subsequently took a central role in the mythology of modern Ireland.

The first visual representations were of the conflict’s aftermath: photographic journeys through landscapes of ruin. From the distance of the camera, we see none of the pockmarks of shell bursts, nor the etchings of machine guns. Instead, traces of life in the city seem to have been swept aside by an unseen hand: the passing of millennia or a violent action of nature. Architecture alone has witnessed and recorded its presence. Amongst the fragments, the shell of the General Post Office (G.P.O.) in Sackville Street is one of the few buildings still wholly recognizable. The remnants of its classical form, portico and pediment, columns and entablature seem to transcend its prosaic modern functions and allude to something more ancient. The bewilderment of city’s inhabitants is also recorded. Dubliners have become inquisitive tourists in streets which hitherto were the locus of everyday life. They wander around aimlessly in a landscape as alien and picturesque as Pompeii. This shift in perception was captured by the Irish poet W.B. Yeats who hinted that Dublin, purged of modern commercialism had transcended its petty inadequacies to revive a slumbering heroic past.

‘I have met them at the close of day
Coming with vivid faces
From counter or desk among grey
Eighteenth-century houses [.]’
All is changed, changed utterly:
A terrible beauty is born.’

His comments were prescient. Initially unpopular, the republican leaders, executed by the British, slowly became recast as heroic martyrs. Similarly, the spaces where their heroism was forged became venerated. The G.P.O. and Sackville Street, however, already had a republican history. It was originally conceived in the eighteenth century as part of a series of magnificent urban spaces to provide an arena of spectacle and self-celebration for the colonial Anglo-Irish and their vision of a Protestant republic. O’Connell/Sackville Street became the temporal, geographical and mythical hinge upon which two different versions of Irish republicanism waxed and waned. Its recasting after independence as a space of Catholic Nationalism bore testimony to its consistency in providing a backdrop for the production of ritual and myth. In the 1920s and 30s, as the nascent country, beset with economic stagnation and political tensions, turned to spectacle as a salve for it social problems, O’Connell Street and the G.P.O. provided its most sacred sites. Within the introduction of new myths, however, individual as well as national identities were created and consolidated. The emerging identity of modern Ireland became inextricably linked with that of one ambitious politician. His uses of the G.P.O. in particular revealed a perceptive understanding of the political uses of classical architecture and urban space.

Dublin 1916: theatre of revolt

In his essay, Anti-Object, Kengo Kuma proposes that architecture cannot and should not be understood as object alone but instead always as series of networks and connections, relationships within space and through form. Some of these relationships are tangible, others are invisible. Stan Allen and James Corner have also called for an architecture that is more performative and operative – ‘less concerned with what buildings look like and more concerned with what they do’ – as means of effecting a more intimate and promiscuous relationship between infrastructure, urbanism and buildings. According to Allen this expanding filed offers a reclamation of some of the areas ceded by architecture following disciplinary specialization:

‘Territory, communication and speed are properly infrastructural problems and architecture as a discipline has developed specific technical means to deal with these variables. Mapping, projection, calculation, notation and visualization are among architecture’s traditional tools for operating at the very large scale’.

The motorway may not look like it – partly because we are no longer accustomed to think about it as such – but it is a site for and of architecture, a territory where architecture can be critical and active. If the limits of the discipline have narrowed, then one of the functions of a school of architecture must be an attempt occupy those areas of the built environment where architecture is no longer, or has yet to reach. If this is a project about reclamation of a landscape, it is also a challenge to some of the boundaries that surround architecture and often confine it, as Kuma suggests, to the appreciation of isolated objects.

M:NI 2014-15
We tend to think of the motorway as a thing or an object, something that has a singular function. Historically this is how it has been seen, with engineers designing bridges and embankments and suchlike with zeal … These objects like the M3 Urban Motorway, Belfast’s own Westway, are beautiful of course, but they have caused considerable damage to the city they were inflicted upon.

Actually, it’s the fact that we have seen the motorway as a solid object that has caused this problem. The motorway actually is a fluid and dynamic thing, and it should be seen as such: in fact it’s not an organ at all but actually tissue – something that connects rather than is. Once we start to see the motorway as tissue, it opens up new propositions about what the motorway is, is used for and does. This new dynamic and connective view unlocks the stasis of the motorway as edifice, and allows adaptation to happen: adaptation to old contexts that were ignored by the planners, and adaptation to new contexts that have arisen because of or in spite of our best efforts.

Motorways as tissue are more than just infrastructures: they are landscapes. These landscapes can be seen as surfaces on which flows take place, not only of cars, buses and lorries, but also of the globalized goods carried and the lifestyles and mobilities enabled. Here the infinite speed of urban change of thought transcends the declared speed limit [70 mph] of the motorway, in that a consignment of bananas can cause soil erosion in Equador, or the delivery of a new iphone can unlock connections and ideas the world over.

So what is this new landscape to be like? It may be a parallax-shifting, cognitive looking glass; a drone scape of energy transformation; a collective farm, or maybe part of a hospital. But what’s for sure, is that it is never fixed nor static: it pulses like a heartbeat through that most bland of landscapes, the countryside. It transmits forces like a Caribbean hurricane creating surf on an Atlantic Storm Beach: alien forces that mutate and re-form these places screaming into new, unclear and unintended futures.

And this future is clear: the future is urban. In this small rural country, motorways as tissue have made the whole of it: countryside, mountain, sea and town, into one singular, homogenous and hyper-connected, generic city.

Goodbye, place. Hello, surface!