1048 Cymbeline, Kneehigh Theatre Cornwall

In October 2006 I discovered the Cornish Theatrical Company of Kneehigh www.kneehigh.co.uk and remembered my Cornish experiences of forty years ago. The first family holiday could have been something of a disaster because the car broke down on the way, was abandoned to a local garage care of the A. A. and amazingly the struggling gears got us to a car park where it so happened there was a coach taking a break before going to Penzance which was around the corner for fishing village of Mousehole where a cottage had been rented. We arrived about the same time as planned. The absence of the vehicle over the weekend and until repairs were completed meant getting know the immediate area.

The following year or year the year after, there was a return visit, longer in duration, staying near the beach houses on stilts at Hayle, close to St Ives, and which was subsequently discovered to have a similar atmosphere to Gruissan near Narbonne. This was the era when everyone was rushing off to exceptionally cheap holidays in Spain and Greece and even in the heights of summer it was possible to find miles of almost deserted sea coast and countryside and undiscovered artists at work.

Two treasures which evoke memories are a Newlyn Pottery Troika Aztec Vase and a water colour view of Mousehole. One of several vivid memories is a delightful meal at a French restaurant at St Ives, third in memory of great meals with one eaten in France at Beziers, and to the meal of meals at Le Toquet 1981 where although an early arrival the meal spread until the room was crowded with other diners, all French speaking. I can remember starting with a bottle of Sancerre, drunk before the Crabbe de la Mere was demolished, and which had followed a Salad Maison Jambon. The main dish was Roquet Andelouse, followed by crème caramel and coffee, and Port on the house. Of course part of the memory is the company and the ambiance but they were all experiences which cannot be repeated.
Such was the affection for Cornwall that I acquired a historical Map, Arthur's Mee, King's England and a desire to take up sailing.

It was not surprising to learn that in 1980 a village school teacher decided to run theatre workshops in his spare time and in due course a mixture of people, a farmer, and a sign writer from Tesco, several students, a thrash guitarist from a local band and an electrician. but no actors or anyone trained began to make performances.

There was no theatre or arts centre in Cornwall, and this I suspect is their secret, because although they would have gained knowledge, there was no inherited culture either to guide or control their destiny, they had to make their own.

Kneehigh started to perform to families in locations within their communities; village's halls, marquees, harbour sides and less conventional places. They created theatre on cliff tops, in preaching pits, and quarries.

The company now finds itself celebrated as one of Britain's most exciting touring companies. (Yes it is) Spontaneous sense of risk and adventure. A DEFINING THEATRIAL FORCE. "Cornwall is our physical and spiritual home. We draw inspiration from landscapes. History, People and culture." Admittedly only one performance was experienced but everything which was said about them and their interpretation of Cymbeline provided one of the great afternoons in theatre, shared by the young people present a few even older than me. This is the company for introducing children to real theatre a form of pantomime for intelligent and creative adults who retain the child within.

The set was simple but also elaborate, a metal structure representing enclosed palace/ Italian Brothel/Night club, which can be climbed, with levels. including the musicians platform also used to represent rooms. This group makes their own music and records which adds to their comprehensiveness of performance. They also sing well. They act without appearing to act.

The performance manages to communicate the complex story which is often difficult to grasp in Shakespeare comedies without having prior study of the text, they retained something of the original poetry translated into a contemporary context. The music and song is good, and I bought the CD and theatrical devices clever an appealing to all ages. The horror and tragedy is similarly covered, so real that when the soft toy heart of a small deer is taken adult cried out in genuine anguish which made the children laugh.

The show lasted two and half hours plus an interval at two thirds way sufficient for the majority to get some refreshment but not everyone. I had my regular seat.

I sent a letter saying how much I had enjoyed the experience, registered as a Friend which brought a Christmas card signed by the company, and later from the National Theatre on line bookshop, I was able to buy a copy of some of the plays previous performed, such was the enthusiasm generated.

It would be good to return to Cornwall, retracing memories and attending a performance of the company in their homeland, but where in the queue of the others, is this experience to be placed? All those Isles of Greece still to visit, Rome, Montecassino, Venice and Sorrento, Paris, and a dozen towns, or a score other French places, Uppsala, the Anne Frank Museum, the battlefields and cemeteries of Belgium and North France, Munich because I once drove through after not finding the municipal campsite, Salzburg and the Gross Glockner and all those places of memories in the Uk? I managed to return to all the places where I lived, studied and worked. I suspect I will have to settle continue to what I am doing, which is to recreate the experience in this way.

1040 The History of the World in Two Hours

I begin the search for me with a search for others. In the beginning there was a man called Adam and a woman called Eve, and then there was me, and then there are you, and we are connected. Adam and Eve are concepts, just as Genesis is a document of faith and not a history of the world in ancient times. In an average life there are two billion seconds of time to experience and remember. In the autumn of 2006 I witnessed the Enforced Entertainment company attempt to perform the history of the world in two hours: The World in Pictures.

The performance commenced with a bare stage and a long prologue. The stage was traditional with the second area of Stage 2, used as an epic stage for Son of Man, closed off.

The performance that followed is remembered against having spent two and a half hours in excruciating uncomfortableness experiencing the company's presentation of the Performance Artwork of Sophie Calle's Exquisite Pain. A visual extravaganza of movement and sound during which I wanted to cheer, clap, get up and join in Rocky Horror show style, forgetting my age and appearance as the oldest foggy present among very young audience, who I guessed had come without much prior knowledge of what was take place. There was plenty of nervous giggles when one of the actors went nude and at some of the vulgar (in the nicest way) gesturing but there was no joining in which I find confusing.

Perhaps by the time the majority have come to university they are already doing their own thing freed from the kind of parental institutional controls we experienced in the fifties and sixties, when first there was, shock horror, dancing in the aisles of cinemas when middle aged Bill Haley Rocked around the Clock and then there was the invitation to join the cast dancing on stage at the end of Hair, and where the general nudity was secondary to the emphasis on drugs so that two LPs had to be issued, the first excluding the songs about drugs, although I still hear plays of the Mick Jagger and the Stones extolling the virtues of Brown Sugar.

Perhaps some did go to excess but there was some justification childhoods with the prospect of death and injury from bombs, the deprivations which lasted into the later 1940’s and then the threat of nuclear annihilation or the slow death from radiation. Now the young just have to worry about a few terrorist atrocities and a student loan, although they do have the guilt that a third of the world starving and the general misuse of the planet.

So how were these, and the preceding events, of world history covered? Enjoyably, but with the serious intention to give the audience at least one concept which would survive the subsequent layering of new experiences, a point which was emphasised in the epilogue as the audience made to depart. We were reminded that what seems important, enjoyable, painful, challenging, or whatever changes, as soon as we move to a new experience the previous is altered, ad ion and on until experience is often lost to immediate recall, although not its influence.

Within the space of a few days I had seen one performance which comprised going over and over one short experienced of a few hours in a hotel room, and then an attempt within two to cover the experience of human beings on the earth planet.

My understanding and belief is that all experience continues to exist through the transfers of memory between generation biologically as well as through speech, writing, and recording of sound and vision and that the experience can be viewed by everyone, everywhere throughout the universe who have the technology and other abilities to do so. Such is experience is good and beneficial and evil and harmful swinging one way and another depending on the accumulated actions of everyone with the implication that every good deed however unnoticed is of value as is every contested act of evil.

1034 And death has no Dominion Dylan Thomas

In the autumn of 2006 I attended a one man performance which merited a significantly larger audience as those present would have fitted comfortably into auditorium two, and better still the bar lounge atmosphere of the stage three area, given the subject of show. The life of Dylan Thomas told through his verse.

The soul and the sin of the man filled the place for a couple of hours and then we went our respective ways. I sometimes wish I had the kind of mission of the Sin Eater, cleansing souls, or even that of Soul Collector which appeared in a fantasy series, Star Trek next generation, whose concept was to protect and nurture souls, although in this the Collector messed up and collected from a planet that we not ready to give up its ghost.

What have I have done, and continue to do, is to try and collect something of the creative genius of others so that it inspires, stimulates and modifies my existence, stretching its dimension. I think John Betjeman came first, Miss Joan Hunter Dunn furnished and burnished in the Surrey sun of my home county, and then there was my own Brideshead of Byron Shelley and Keats although T S Elliot, Waste Land, Four Quartets and his play the Dinner Party heard on steam radio and then read and read avidly as I tried to help myself to get where I was not, knowing it would be different from what I anticipated and hoped for.

I cannot remember or recorded when, also on the radio, I heard that Welsh voice rage raging against the dying of the light which fitted into my anarchistic subversive protesting tendencies, and it was sometime in my late thirties, (I could look it up as I have the programme) that I experienced a theatrical performance of Under Milk Wood and the Newcastle Theatre Royal, and rushed off to read and later acquire a video, and a voice recording, and then later still in my fifties there was a trip of a few days to South Wales and Laugharne, to his cottage with Caitlin, going to one of the pubs and bookshops. His voice still fills the cottage fifty, now sixty years after souls departed and I acquired duplicate voice recordings to occasionally recapture the moment of that experience.

Unsurprising in the autumn of 2006 the majority of the audience was as old, some even older and quite a number were solitary men.

If you can't paint the way you want the word pictures can be just as good and less expensive to replicate.

Because we were so few in number there was room to stretch and enjoy the conversation which developed between a university student, and a young women, and then an older person of my years who sat between them and could not resist joining in, so I did too when the opportunity arose.

The talk was not of Dylan but what had been done to the theatre with millions of pounds acquired when the city hoped next year they would become the European centre of culture although the main developments have been created on the bank of the Tyne in Gateshead. We lost out to Liverpool, punishment I suspect for rejecting the offer of regional government.

We were generally enthusiastic about the changes and developments, but not one other young man who breathed black fire on what had happened.

The performance was simple, the actor standing at a lectern or sitting on a chair, mixing the poems and excerpts with stories and some chronology. If this was the turn out for one the great sons of Wales and poets in he British Language what hope had I for imagining that any one would to come and hear me ramble incoherently about my experiences, although there had been time when I could keep the attention of a sympathetic group for an hour and more about a subject of interest to them.

I have not mentioned the actor who was to the same for Truman Capote the following day. I am even lazier so I will endeavour to mention his name another time. He was excellent and enabled the soul of another to live on. And death has no dominion and I no longer rage about the dying of the light

This is a poor note on an important evening and I will make amends by writing about the work and the life at greater length on a future occasion, as long as death remains to have its dominion. I no longer rage but experience sadness and regret at the dying of the light.

1033 Denis Potter's The Son of Man

I have watched several versions of the Passion of Christ and in my childhood and as a young man I participated in the Stations of the Cross every Good Friday. But I did not become a witness until viewing Mel Gibson's Passion in cinematic theatre. I have owned the DVD for at least two Easters, but it will be the forthcoming time before I will be able to cope with the viewing experiences once more.

Shortly after the opening of the redeveloped New Playhouse Theatre I attended a performance of the Denis Potter play, Son of Man with doubts whether anything could measure up to the Mel Gibson reality. This used what was intended to be the epic stage, a combination of a stages one and two. This was short lived development/

The previous evening I had watched a DVD of the remarkable short life of Sophie Scholl with its subject the self sacrifice for the good of others. I have often wondered how I would face up to the reality of death in situation when you are given choice, do this and you live, don't do that and you live and what would I do? It is not the kind of choice those of us born children during world war 2 have had to face, unless we joined some armed service, became fireman, or such other help and rescue services, or been in situation where the choice was ones own life or that of a partner, child or parent, or someone one did not know.

I have the possibility of death three times. Once in a relatively new car, returning late and tired from a weekend in Manchester/or it may have been from over the Pennines in West Yorkshire but going cross country to Oxford, I turn off the lights by accident going around a bend and could only think of trying to turn the car around, expecting to hit something and expecting to be hurt. I did what I set out to do turning the car to face the opposite direction, and although I damaged the axel on wheel that was the only damage and I was able to drive to my home. The other two instances had occurred before. Once in prison, something I said or did not say triggered another inmate who placed a headlock which cab be damaging and even lethal if you struggle. I was able to relax and prepared myself to accept what was to happen. He was so surprised by this unexpected response that he let go, Later he apologise and tried to explain himself. However both of these situations were not of my making. After release I became involved in the organisation of a project which aimed at drawing attention to the obscenity of sitting a base for nuclear missile submarines in of the most beautiful and peaceful parts of this earth. Because I could not then swim I decided against participating in a demonstration which involved sharing a canoe. I did join a more substantial craft where the authorities first attempted to swamp by turning hoses at full power and then when our engine failed we were cleverly pushed by a government craft against a buoy as we attempted to transfer protestors from our craft to a larger one, so that for a few second sit looked that we would sandwich between the towering buoy and the rescue craft. The collision was missed by a second or so and we were then towed to the shore by a combination craft we had become all the rage, this was motor vehicle which could also function and a motor boat. In all three situations I remember being calm and prepared for the worst. It is therefore the prospect of pain rather than death that I think is the challenge.

It was this sense of real pain which I missed from the Potter play however well acted and set. The play has attracted wider media interest than theatrical criticism because of the portrayal of Pontius Pilot as an intelligent and thinking man who had to calculate the best options in the difficult political and social circumstances of his situation. The play however had a significant moment when towards he end of the first act the Sermon on the Mount was used by actor directly challenge the audience insisting that everyone hold hands, touch, fondle and caress each other which was Ok for established partners but questionable in relation to everyone else, More convincing was the portrayal of Jesus as an I thought the portrayal of Jesus as a essentially weak 'ordinary', 'normal', man with a sense of destiny and personal conviction who knew his time had come and was consequently able to lead, to preach and command an audience, and then to die in pain, was well done. Afterwards people went to the bar, or to their cars or public transport and I did not see anyone sitting stunned in their seats or visibly distressed as happened when seeing Mel Gibson's passion in a central London cinema theatre.
For this performance the main stage of the Playhouse had been stripped bare revealing the side wings ad removing the partition between this stage and stage two. Stage two as previously recorded has been created from the old Gulbenkian first floor studio and dressing rooms old Green Room below. It is still necessary to enter the new auditorium at first floor level and then descend to the removable seats to the floor level which form the stage space for productions such as Exquisite Pain. If you sit in the first row you are part of the production which the actors standing over you. For the Son of Man the sating had been dismantled so that the stage one extends to stage the floor the auditorium. However once does not encompass the whole of the area as there is the real wall structure which in addition to the wings has a lintel which is this instance restricted the view of part of the set construction. It was difficult to work what was gained by the use of this super stage. Moreover the partitioning at that point took expensive labour and time to remove and out back up. It prevented the use of the second stage from an income viewpoint and there is a sound proofing problem with some kinds of performances involving music and work designed to engage the involvement of children. The outcome is that the double stage has not been used since, the seating in the auditorium of stage two has been improved and the partition strengthened

1031 The Equisite Pain of Sophie Calle

26.10.2006 .The use of Jokerman script for Exquisite Pain (27.09.2006 Newcastle Playhouse) is at one level appropriate.(Original Blog) It is not a play but a performance art work where the setting of a seated fixed audience for two and a half hours is inappropriate, one needed to be able to walk about

12.03.2007 if you have not been to the theatre to experience acting for sometime then Exquisite Pain is not the work to go and see. It is not a play but performance art using exceptionally talented actors. (I can say this because I also watched them perform a total theatre experience of the history of "The World in Pictures," two days later).

You sit with increasing discomfort for two and a half hours with interruption. The discomfort is physical and emotional and is an appropriate way to experience the work. I would have preferred to have walked about a bit but keeping within listening distance.

This autobiographical work, previously performed by the artist and available in book form, is by Sophie Calle, born in Paris in 1953. 1985 her lover and older man failed to meet her as arranged in New Delhi midway between where she had been for several months and where she had previously lived, She was devastated by the experience, rather than traumatised and was able to work through the disappointment, humiliation, and victim guilt, because she was a creative using photo, memorabilia and words, but kept a record of how her perception of the event changed through linear time.

26.10.2006 The performance consist of one person telling the story of dealing with a traumatic experience and how the view of that experience changes over time, one blames oneself, one blames the other person one gets angry at being affected so much yet because one wanted and hopes for resolution reconciliation one clings the hope for a different outcome because that it is a possibility but the reality is that when you compare such an experience with the experience of others you realise that however painful it is insignificant to the realities of the succession of tragedies and horrors which are told in a dead pan and sometimes humorous way.

13.03.2007 Sophie Calle could have just created a performance work in which she recounted the same experience over the subsequent days, weeks and months, reporting and observing changes in detail, consideration, feelings, attitude and judgement. This could have been a complete work. She did not.

On her return to Paris, she asked a group of friends to answer the question, "When did you most suffer?" Their stories of pain, each of them accompanied by a photograph, interplay with Calle's own story and daily reflections—"It is now seventy-five days since the man I love left me"—creating a testament to the heartache of romantic rejection. 130 illustrations, 71 in color. Amazon.Com.

27.09.2006 the university car park was free tonight, I usually pay £2. I enjoyed the salad and timed everything much better. It is the right thing to do to take the car although it would be sensible to work out the motorway way route back. It is ridiculous that you cannot enter the theatre at this level with the choice if steep steps or walking around the theatre up the slope.

28.02.2007. The revised travel arrangements to the Playhouse and other evening outings to Newcastle are now working well. I still visit my mother and then take the car to the Hewarth short stay car park adjacent to the taxi rank and metro station. I eat the picnic meal in the car and then continue the journey by metro train. On the way there is now a sign which suggests it might be possible to enter the theatre directly from the car park. It is.

27.09.2006 this is my first experience of the new second theatre space. For on the Town when both spaces were combined the audience sat on tiered seating the width of the second space facing into the main auditorium and banked seating. Previously we sat on similar seating in a semi circle around the stage which I like to call eyeball theatre. Now there is conventional tiered seating with not much space to move legs unless you sit on an aisle or the front row where you will feel part of the performance. I chickened out and sat mid row, fortunately one vacant seat so there was some manoeuvrability. My ticket was free as part of a five main theatre subscription packaged. Many in the audience were students.

Unsurprisingly there was a plea for funds at the end and I decide to give £10 which is slightly more than the average of £7 requested. Free programme included.

13.03.2007. The incorporation of the stories of the experiences of Calle's friends was inspirational. Each story communicates an aspect of physical and emotional pain but the accumulation of experience helps to put her experience into perspective

At the end of the World in Pictures chorus makes the valid point that however much the average member of the audience enjoys, appreciates, is moved or challenged by the event, it will become submerged under layers of new experiences of varying intensity and significance.

26.10.2006 There was also an after performance session with the two actors, and the company director chaired by a local cultural figure. I had only 'discovered' this extraordinary the company through the internet during the afternoon and had become so interested that I abandoned my work programme. The amazing aspect is that the core actors had been together throughout their working lives having come together at university. At the discussion I clanged by concertinaing this time, having misinterpreted an aspect of the internet information. I also wanted to know if the order in which the stories of the friends are recounted is changed according performance. It is not although if the work was mine I would have included the variations.

13.03.2007. Calle's work and the performance by the Forced Entertainment company is at the core of my work and confirms that what I am doing is only original in its particular form, at least I hope that is the position, but the concepts are already aspects of the work of professional contemporary creative of international reputation. However I do not regret only entering back through the portal of my occupational dimension of four decades into my first period of full time creative endeavour. Now I have a lot to say even if I continued to be limited in the means of expression.

14.02.2009 I have become more influenced by this work since first experience than any other cultural event because it has fitted so well into the dilemma I found of never settling on anything because each time I relived the experience the experience my perception has changed. Some of the cultural event writing has been recast three times as development activity with AOL, then on My Space and now with Google plus going back because the subject has reappeared, so I need to consider because of the interaction with another event.

1006 Lypsynch experience reviewed

Yesterday 24th February 2207. I experienced total theatre, a farce, a comedy and a satire, also a melodrama, drama, mystery and a thriller which included an operatic aria, operatic duet, rock and pop and karaoke, a comprehensive exploration of language, voice and speech, which included an education into the reality of film making, and a complex story where every cause and consequence becomes explained and every question answered.

Not surprisingly the performance last approximately four and half hours, excluding two intervals.

The quality of the work and the quality of the performance was outstanding. Only the ending disappointed although this is a work still in creation and therefore the present conclusion which felt rushed and failed to realise the expectation of its opening.

The work? Lipsynch led by Robert Lepage and a collaboration between Ex Machina, and Theatre sans Frontieres with Cultural Industries Lid and Northern Stage

Theatrical Art is a conduit between those creating the work and everyone who interacts with the performance, each bringing to the event their anticipation, immediate circumstance and previous experience. My experience over the past year has confirmed an impression that the majority of an audience select to attend because of the performance type with the musical being much in fashion and the Shakespearean classical commanding both an established, and an ever changing young audience studying English Literature. True there are those who attend out of curiosity or because they are taken by someone, or are, or hope to be active in the creative and performing process, and those who follow the work of a company or that of an individual performer.

The nature of audience participation appears to be governed by the preponderance of those who know in advance the form of the work. If branded a comedy people will look to laugh at every opportunity and if a musical they will give applause at the end of each number. The performance of the opening of Lipsynch, an operatic aria deserved a standing ovation, which I hope would have been given if performed in an opera house, or billed as an opera, but was met with silence at the Northern Stage. Is this an over reaction from someone who four years ago changed his life as a consequence of a day divided between the Saatchi MOMA and Tate Modern? My emotional being remains raw and open.

Since the commencement of 2007 I have attended three forms of live performance. I have been among 50000 at events where the majority paid months in advance up to four times the maximum of a Lipsynch ticket cost, and where a greater number than the total audience for the week, paid even more for tickets to a single event. The expectation of the majority of these audiences indicates that they anticipated to be frustrated and disappointed by the experience, but attended because they had already paid or lived in hope of something better. In reality they received perhaps a 10th, perhaps a 100th of what the Lipsynch experience provided.

There was a time, until about a decade ago, when the audience at these performances were active participants giving voice in song and shout to prejudice and hostility, of a foul and offensive nature, towards half the performers, the director and some of the supporting production staff and towards a separated section of the audience. Some ignored the performers and concentrated on self expression. This aspect of the audience participation has been successfully suppressed, although it is evidently just below the surface. Two exceptions are still allowed, hostility shown towards performers based in London and their supporters from where ever they live, or when the neighbouring team and supporters visit. This season there has also been the unthinkable, mass booing of home performers. Whereas in the past the nature of audience participation reflected local tribal loyalty to performers, now the performers are of international origin, frequently changing their loyalty between production teams and sometimes none of the performers having any link with the with the audience locality.

I also attended a performance event of 10000, repeated over two days, where the audience also paid more than the top price Lipsynch for a ticket, having previously invested tens of pounds over ten weeks in voting for individual performers. The noise level of the performances was so high that the quality of the sound was adversely affected, but was necessary because the noise level of the audience, (with one notable exception), and where some performers gave this kind of participation every encouragement, by calling on the audience to support, even to the extent of putting on city football shirts, which was brave because of its regional nature. Afterwards there were universal expressions of enjoyment and money's worth. The final performer deserved several standing ovations, but the audience was of the wrong composition and mood but her time will come when the cost of seat will be priceless.

Whereas men and teenagers are predominate in the 50000 events, women, girls and children were predominant among the 10000, and where I suspect I was the oldest present. This all contrasted with the third event where the audience was under 500, and the seat price less than maximum at Lipsynch, despite the performer being of international good reputation over four decades. Because the audience knew the work of the performer well, they listened intently and then gave applause, sometimes prolonged, at appropriate points after each number, and standing in ovation at the end.

The events were Newcastle United AFC, the X Factor finalists show tour and Ritchie Havens, also on tour.

I had no previous knowledge of the Ex Machina company, or the work of Robert Lepage, who initiated the concept, except for the Northern stage advance publicity, and despite having planned to do so, work activities prevented internet research. I had attended a performance in Spanish by Theatre San Frontieres, (a company, collaborating with Ex Machina) and which brought back memories of having been brought up six decades earlier in a Gibraltarian speaking household in England who did not teach me their language. I had also seen all the theatrical productions at the Playhouse since its re-opening, except for those designed for children. Northern Stage had become a partner in planning the Lipsynch theatrical production. My only expectation about the form of Lipsynch was that it might be like the Performance Art of 'Exquisite Pain' (the Enforced Theatre Company) and where at the end of their 'World in Pictures,' chorus warns the audience that whatever the immediate response to a work, it quickly becomes submerged by the layers of subsequent experience.

This seems to me to be particularly true for those who visit the theatre as part of their consumption culture. Those who do not want to feel uncomfortable and challenged by the eyeball experience of human beings baring the soul of others, and through them their own, stay away. The young woman in Exquisite Pain recounts over and over again, mirroring the linear passage of time, what happened one night when she was dumped by a lover, the memory of the details and of the emotions aroused, changes, at first only slightly, and then significantly because of subsequent experience. Most people cannot cope with such reality, and even less prepared to pay for such an experience.

This is a Blog and Blog asks for moods to be indicated and was there not a play about people going to and leaving a play. My mood has been euphoric having celebrated the 100th birthday of my mother, who despite severe memory loss with psychosis, is generally happy. The mood has been dampened by receiving two reports from the Health Ombudsman regarding the premature and preventable death of her sister, and my care mother, four years ago, and which required, and will require of me, more time, and distress.

I made no attempt to search for a review in advance or until I have completed this writing of my experience and reaction. I was very intrigued by the brief reference in advance publicity to the 'search for father in western society,' and was stunned when the story line struck so many chords with my own background, with my former professional work, and which had continued after retirement after 2003. Having a discovered Mediterranean ancestry, primarily Spanish and Maltese, with some Italian and English Wiltshire, also raised personal interest levels because the work involves parts where the first language is German, French, Italian and Spanish, used to explore aspects of language and communication, and how digital communication and digital gadgetry can be used to overcome all differences, including those of distance.

I had not anticipated that the work would have any coherent story line, and therefore one which attempts to explain and resolve all issues was unexpected. An opera singer, en route is asked to hold the baby of a young mother who suddenly dies. The woman adopts the child, and part of the story is the relationship between a boy who does not know anything about his father and then finds a relationship with a step father difficult, and where one proposition is that young men are jealous and threatened by their fathers. The work explores who the girl was, and how she came to be on flight with the child, and how and when, the son comes to also learn the truth of his mother and of his parentage. Substitute parents always attempt to protect, usually for good reasons, while the child in question has a lifelong need to know, even if they come to wish they never did (The Bad Mother's Handbook of Kate Long should be the bible on this). Part of my creative work since retirement has been about what happens when late in life you discover that your ancestral identity is different from what you were led to believe and with the added irony that one aspect of my occupational activity involved helping others to gain the truth of their biological identity.

Another theme which struck several chords is the proposition that there is a multiplicity of causes and consequence for each event existing in parallel dimensions. I wrote my first and only attempt at a play in 1960 after volunteering to complete six months in prison in preference to entering into a recognisance to keep the peace which involved stopping my work as an independent non violent, weapons of mass destruction inspector, in Essex, and elsewhere. The play was sent to the English Stage company at the Royal Court, and unsurprisingly rejected, although a note was added, " However, they (their readers) did feel that your play was interesting and consequently we would be very pleased to read anything else you may have written."

I had not completed anything and instead of devoting all my energy to doing so, I chose to move through a series of related portals away from active artistic creativity, into further education, professional training, child care social work and child care work and then social services management. In 1985 I was advised, while attending an international residential senior management course, that I was a creative intellect working in an unsympathetic environment which although confirmed what I knew, added analysis and implications which I did not. It was not until a sequence of related events spread over less than the year 2002-2003 that I decided to cross back through an open portal into the dimension of artistic creativity, as a contemporary concept and installation worker, having discovered that throughout the previous decades others had been thinking and doing what I had been thinking, and to a less extent, doing, in my separate dimension. Lipsynch is divided into potentially self contained one act dimensions with refer and link into the others. At times you are puzzled despite close attention, especially with the significance of the fourth act, and where those sitting immediate behind me also had the same problem, and I am still not certain about the value of this act except as used to explore aspects of communication and understanding surrounding social and ritual behaviour towards death, and to give another slant on father son relationships.

I was much more at home and impressed by the lead and other characters involved in the unmasking of child/young person abusers, knowing from personal experience how victims are for ever haunted and lack any meaningful sense of justice, while some, not only victims, will ruthlessly and obsessively seek to unmask and punish.

I am impressed by the technical integrity and sensitivity in which the subject was treated and which for me was at heart of the Lipsynch story taking precedence over the search for father.

In Lipsynch it seemed to me that the father was demonised with no explanation attempted why he had come to behave as he had, although I wondered if we were expected to understand this from the behaviour of the son, and what happens when father sees himself in the mirror through the presence of his son: Look into the abyss and! There was evidently much serious attempt to explain and link the behaviour of everyone else.

After 24 hours I consider the opening act to be one of the most powerful and moving experiences I have encountered in the theatre. I thought the performance of the opening aria without build up extraordinary. Given the quality of the subsequent individual plays and performances I was disappointed with the finale which I had expected to be at least as powerful and moving as the opening, whereas the emphasis appeared to be on providing an explanation and resolution. I had expected at least an aria leaving the audience in silence, challenged. Perhaps a quintet of the five languages, synchronised in harmony to indicate the provision of a go home contentment from resolved ending, only to be followed by discordant Babel to remind of reality? True this aspect was there in the restaurant scene and the making of the autobiographical film.

I remain puzzled by the emphasis on one explanation and one resolution given the proposition of a multiplicity of causes for each event and outcome although this may have been part of the grand design, having educated the audience through the artificiality of film making with the possibility of adding and changing every component separately, and as was also done through the creation of the railway station announcement. Perhaps my reaction is related to having expected the work to more abstract and where in the end there are no answers and when those which appear to have been are opened out to more questions.

I am not sure if the attempt to be all things to all and to undertake such a comprehensive exploration of the use of voice, speech and language added to the value of the core concept. As I tried to demonstrate in my introduction it is possible to create and develop a popular cultural performance experience with the public paying in several ways for the same event, enabling high wages and corporate profit. I also tried to demonstrate my difficulty in sustaining quality and consistency over increasing length. Whether intended or not Lipsynch communicated the extent to which technology enables greater consistency and comprehensiveness through the use creation of the Train station announcements and ways of building up the segment of a film by separately adding/changing artists, sound and voice.

My problem with the present production of Lipsynch is that I did not find the totality as satisfying or challenging as the first act led me to anticipate and because of the overall quality of the components and the performances. In singling out the actor who portrayed the operatic singer and substitute mother, and the actor who covered the old woman, the camp hairdresser and the detective, this is not to downgrade the work of everyone else. The removal of the brain tumour was excruciatingly magnificent. But most of all I shall never forgot that opening aria and the difficulty I had not to cry.

1001 The X Factor 2007

Considering that the youngest child observed was under 5, carried out asleep in the arms of his mother at the end of the X Factor Finalist's Tour 2007, it is a bitter sweet thought that by the time he has seen another six decades fly past him, like me, his pop and rock concert going is likely to have been in the hundreds, compared to my own handful, commencing and ending with Bruce Springsteen thirty and four years ago.

For the record, and one ought to remember every one, the biggest gigs were Live Aid 1 in 1985 and the Rolling Stone, both at Wembley, with the first Stones Concert cancelled. Other Stadium events, in addition to the Boss at Newcastle and Crystal Palace, with his Sheffield East Street Band in between, included Bowie at Sunderland, and Tina Turner twice at Gateshead along with Rod Stewart, and the Big Country, and involved a lot of standing during the concert and queuing for hours beforehand. I cannot ever recall standing up at the Newcastle City Hall for the Nolans, Bryan Ferry, Elkie Brooks or Phil Collins and where my only visit to punk was Nigel Kennedy.

So as my 68th birthday rapidly approaches I was a little anxious about being conspicuously the oldest foggey in town as I made my way to the Newcastle arena on a damp February night, but soon immediately heartened by the sight of a seven or eight year old travelling with her greying haired grandmother on the Metro train which I joined at Hewarth. And in the brief period in which there was time to mingle as I attempted to find the male loos and my seat, eureka there were several grey heads, but not a lot.

The Metro arena is tucked away behind Central Station, down at the riverside in a dispiritingly bleak part of town with access along a tunnel beneath the train track to Scotland. Since the last visits to experience Elton John and Toon away to the Mackems on the big screen, they have built the Life Centre with its trendy bars on one side and a giant hotel on the car park and market space on the other of the way down to the storage depot, beyond which there is a new multi storey, outside of which I counted three stretch limo's parked on the way back. However there is no escape from great climb up to the stadium entrance.

I reckon that I have only missed viewing 'live' a couple of the 80 or so X Factor TV shows over the past five years, and the starter programmes, full of carefully selected auditionees, lost their novelty after the first season. My reason for investing £28.85 in the electronically mailed A 4 size Ticketmaster with two bar-codes was Leona.

I had sat there memorised by this authentic young woman whose former boss had the good sense to immediately advertise her telephone receptionist job as soon as her heard her sing on the Telly. Simon, never known for overdoing his praise, struggled to find new ways of being ecstatic with her faultless, hair on the back rising, emotional, performances as she made her way to international stardom, with only the universally popular Ray likely to upstage, and which I have to admit, he did on the night. And now to the concert.

Well nearly, because for once I had allowed sufficient time beforehand for preparation, downloading the pen pictures of the other 11 finalists, to remember their names, and to assess anticipation. I had liked Robert but did not think Ashley was as good as Simon suggested. I thought Dionne was good and would have liked the older Unconventionals to have made it beyond the first week. And how would Keri cope with a tour and had Ben recovered his evident disappointment at coming third, and what was the name of that other group. And then of course there was the pride of Scotland, the MacDonald brothers who I agreed with Simon, as usually, were nice lads you could take home to mum, but not in the same league as Journey South.

My seat could not have better, well it could on reflection, but only just alittle: In the first block, at one side, on the back row and on the second aisle. If I wanted to stand and shout there was no one behind me. The same seat about half way down would have been perfect depending on those around. In this instance there was a large size male and energetic fortyish lady on my left and a young mother with six and seven year olds immediately in front. The stage, as it was revealed, comprised the full width of the arena at a height which meant that everyone who stood on the arena floor still looked up to the stage, although I was not sure what would be the position of those who remained sitting. The stage was tiered so I reckoned that sit midway down and you were at the same level as the upper stage.

The show opened with Eton Road, and two of the lads remained on stage as compares throughout the evening. They performed three numbers which included Mack the Knife and from Me to You and the first impact was the noise, superior to St James Park although a fifth of the number, the audience that is, so it meant the music volume was at the maximum so the artists could be heard above the cacophony of shrill, as it was evident there were more kids than teens, and most of the mums had come to do their thing. The males were only more in evidence in their support for Ben.

Eton road were the only group, the MacDonald brothers discounted, who appeared with not a word said about 4sure and the Unconventionals, or that Dionne and Keri were not there, which was surprising as Shaun did a number to rapturous standing applause, Shaun was the baby teenager who could not remember his words when he made it to Florida. There was also an appearance of 4 auditionees, the twins who can sing, and two others who could also give Chico, a run for his singing money but lacking a hundredth of his charisma.

The story of 17 year old Nikkita had moved everyone, having lost her mother a year or so before and she kept up the upbeat tempo with Dancing Queen and one other. Her appearance confirmed the pattern of performances. There were five large screens. The middle two stuck to portrait views of the young starlets while the three others flashed through their X factor experience, including comments from judges, family and visiting celebrity. High above the stage and protruding full width above the audience, a coloured large print ticker tape announced the Christian name of each artist and there was full production pyrotechnics with exploding bursts upwards of silver and gold and various other unexpected surprises of fire, falls and vapour which caused pandemonium among the young, and young at heart.

The third performance was from the exuberant Robert, who after his rocking Take a chance on me, demonstrated that he can also sing with Forever.

The surprise of the evening was Ashley whose Easy, after the Winner Takes All, suggested that it would be worthwhile listening to a full CD, if he ever gets the opportunity to make one. Simon you were right, as usual.

The first half of one hour and a quarter was brought to a rousing, everyone on their stamping feat crescendo of 500 miles in which they removed their shirts, but not their kilts and donned Newcastle shirts donated by the club. They opened, I think with Shang-a-lang and in between there was one other.

The excitement of the two children sitting in front was a joy to behold and the little girl was in ecstasy when Ashley appeared, and by the second half was dancing with that uninhibitedness which I used think was lost as soon as adulthood was achieved, although the behaviour of many around indicated that I was wrong! The evening had nearly been ruined for the young lad whose mum was approached just before interval by a senior steward who said he could no longer wave around a star wars type laser stick, purchased from the train tunnel sellers along with glitter cowgirl hats, much in abundance and colourful mini mouse head gear. The argument was that he was being dangerous (and admittedly he was close to hitting both his mum and sister) but the real reason was the promotion at the interval, as well as beforehand, of a half size version of official merchandising. The only other downbeat incident was an extra money Nokia promotion when three members of the audience for Durham Stockton and elsewhere volunteered (selected how?) to sing a snippet of Crazy for a prize as a result of a text vote, which was as flat as the proverbial pancake.

The interval was of half an hour which enabled visits to the loo, for drinks, doughnuts and chips which were also allowed into the auditorium.

The second half, also a further hour and a quarter was restricted to Ben, Ray and Leona.

The contrast between the three talents is striking and each merit a full length performance in their own right. Both Ben and Ray have singles and CDs launched at the same time in March and the Leona mini CD stayed at number 1 for four weeks which is remarkable given the scale of sales in the first week.

Ben Mills is multitalented, a traditional rocker but who can perform ballads and play the piano as well as the guitar. He performed four numbers of which with a Little Help from my friends brought the house down or raised the roof. One advantage of 24 hour e book is that I already have a third row balcony seat for the City Hall on a Friday in November. While Maggie May has been added to 'With a little help,' his Album, Pictures of you includes his original material and this includes a single to be issued on March 5th. A preview of two numbers is available on www.myspace.com/benmillsofficial.

There is no doubt that the star of the star of the show in terms of audience popularity is Ray and his Performances of You Never Walk Alone and My Way were Outstanding and the audience joined in to an extent that he appeared bowled over. It is evident that he cannot still believe what has happened to him, hence one felt when he mentioned that he would be appearing at the City Hall in October, his question will you come to see me, appeared a genuine question. The album contains his X factor hits and other familiar numbers. I forecast that Mr Quinn will be entertaining long after I am no longer able to write on.

And then came Leona

In the video screen build up the Garry Barlow comment that Leona was fifty times better than any other contestant is included, and this creates a potential problem for an artist appearing at the end of a long audience participation party. Will she measure up? I break off to the check the national lottery you are a winner e mail, but alas it is only 7.20, sufficient for a couple more weeks of entries.

There were moments during the ten weeks of successive performances that I watched in disbelief, how was it possible that despite winning talent contests and seeking to become a professional singer, success had eluded her. There was also the excited, witnessed in previous seasons where the more talented were not supported by the populist public. The only British Diva who has stood the test of time and whose voice can be compared with Leona is Dame Shirley Bassey, and I pick the order of words carefully. I was not to be disappointed.

Forget the spectacular presentation worthy of an international star, Leona has that extraordinary capacity to cut herself off from all that is around and perform with an consistent intensity and integrity which is spine tingling and awe inspiring. It a I was there and saw it first, among ten thousand others, that I will take along with seeing Marlene Dietrich at the end of her career, I still have a German version of Where have all the flowers gone. Alas my only regret is not experiencing Edith Piaf singing No Regrets.

The magical and unique aspect which one hopes she will be able to retain is that the ability to communicate directly with every member of the audience directly, despite being totally engrossed by her own singing, together with that is this really happening to me vulnerability. She is yet to learn to command a stage in quite the same way as Dietrich, Piaf and Bassey, but perhaps Leona's charisma will be that of quintessential English Rose, which you risk destroying with the slightest touch.

Those around her are showing wisdom in waiting for a single which will convert the world, although a I hope her first albums will include all the memorable performances from the series. When she sang I will always love you, the lad in front who spent most of the time being a lad, suddenly hugged his mother and said I love you to her, and after that there is nothing more to say, except lets hope I can get a ticket when she has her first tour.