Minor Expletives

Good fun on the road with Perhaps in a Hundred Years (Paul Henderson, Chad Dembski, Ame Henderson, Jacob Zimmer, Kilby Smith-McGregor)

5_There is good and bad fun. Good fun is essential.

To get it out of the way: Bad fun includes (but may not be limited to): fun that re-enforces, re-enacts or otherwise supports existing oppressive, mean and otherwise shitty power dynamics.

Good fun is why it’s worth leaving the house.
It’s the pleasure of company and sharing laughs and tears with friends (new and old.)

In the Conjuring Aspirations I wrote about good fun this way:

We bring people together to share an experience and talk about things they care about.
There is probably drinking.
The time is relaxed and filled with pleasure,
but death and politics are still discussed, people fall in and out of love,
plans are hatched and action taken. Stories are told. Songs are sung.

We care about a good night out.
(We think that’s a fair desire for your night out.)

What got cut for clarity and length was:

(The influence on our work of growing up in
Cape Breton,
Halifax
[and Dartmouth]
should not be overlooked.

 
A few years ago I realized,
after many years of sublimation and denial,
that my work and my interests were hugely impacted by growing up in Nova Scotia.
My parents were hippy-back-to-the-land CFA’s (“Come From Aways”) so I make no claims on deep historic, cultural connections with Cape Breton or the east coast.

But growing up somewhere isn’t nothing.

The social impulse of theatre is what keeps it interesting and essential to me.
The social is (can be) good fun.
This needs to be as true for the audience as the artists.

All I’m thinking about these days is how to make good fun
for the people who leave the house and come to the event.
This doesn’t rule out tragedy or challenge.
(it might, at times, require it)
But it takes care and attention for our guests
And an imagination of what we might like to do on a night out.

Ame and Evan prepare in Reasonable People, Reasonably Disagreeing. Debating is a form full of limits and openness. It's also something we tried and decided wasn't right for the final show. Photo: Trevor Schwellnus

part of a series

2_Nothing is ruled out. Nothing ruled in. Not everything goes.

On the importance of considering the inconsiderable and the necessity of exclusion.

No strategy, subject or form can be categorically dismissed or adopted. As formulaic as much mainstream work is (ruling out many politics, forms and ways of being,) the “experimental” can be equally guilty of refusing to consider options (especially those from the mainstream.) I want to exclude none of this.

At this moment especially I want to include the populist and entertaining. I want to embrace them with also embracing social and political urgencies.

We all tend to make assumptions and develop habits about what goes and what doesn’t in our work. And I don’t know that that’s helpful. It’s more helpful me to be able to have a full spectrum of possibilities. This means of course, not assuming I’m going to do that thing I always do. Do all Small Wooden Shoe shows have microphones? Do we always speak mostly to the audience? The answer for any given production might be “yes” – but for every given production, I have to think about it.
» Read the rest of this entry «

The mess of I Keep Dropping Sh*t. Part of Dedicated to the Revolutions. Photo by Trevor Schwellnus.

part of a series

1_There is no such thing as a clean start. Start from the mess and move towards something. Something that might be called truth.

This starts as a way to get over the paralysis of starting.
The frozen moments of waiting for the right time.
There isn’t one,
or there is only the right time – to paraphrase any number of philosophies, traditions and productivity websites.

I am terrible at this. I wait to send an email until I have all the things ready – of course there are more things every day – and then am fearful I have waited too long. So this is a start, at least a provocation to myself to get over it – to start moving.
» Read the rest of this entry «

Aimée Dawn Robinson in conversation in Dedicated to the Revolutions. Photo: Ömer Yükseker

Four years ago (time passes) I wrote 11 Conversation Starters for Small Wooden Shoe

(you can watch the 11 develop here)

They’ve held up well.

While I fear running the risk of ruining the aphorisms, like the comic explaining his jokes, I am going to start a tag thread for the series. To write a little more about each one, giving credit for where they come from and opening a space for them to work the way they were supposed to: as conversation starters.

A recap of the 11 after the break –
» Read the rest of this entry «

A few years ago I wrote a manifesto for Small Wooden Shoe in the form of 11 conversation starters.

This blog seems like a place to have those conversations. The grand idea, then, is that I’ll write a post about each one – unpacking, furthering or denying and re-imagining them. Please join in.

A Manifesto:
11 conversation starters for Small Wooden Shoe
Jacob Zimmer. 04/07/06
(with thanks to Ame Henderson, Chad Dembski, Jacob Wren)
Published in C: International Contemporary Art (Spring 2006, ed. Rosemary Heather)

1. There is no such thing as a clean start. Start from the mess and move towards something. Something that might be called truth.

2.  Nothing is ruled out. Nothing ruled in. Not everything goes.

3. Waking up is evidence of hope. Artwork even more so.

4. It’s worth thinking about.

5. There is good and bad fun. Good fun is essential.

6. When doing something strange, it is best to be relaxed.

7. Lying is another word for imagination. The pursuit of the truth does not exclude lying, it requires it.

8. Not being able to do something is no excuse not to. How else will we learn?

9. The separation of emotion, body and intellect is destroying the world.

10. Have something to say. It’s possible to change your mind later.

11. What ever we do here tonight, we do it on purpose.