Blinda
Volcano
Chapter Arts Studio
Tuesday, 18th June 2013
As always
Volcano have propelled their audience into unfamiliar territory; exciting,
intimidating and totally overwhelming. In a production like no other Volcano
demanded that their audience surrender the power of sight and leave themselves
vulnerable as they crawled, shoeless, into the unknown.
Blinda is genuinely like no other ‘theatre
production’ you will see and as such it is impossible to write a distanced and
analytical review of something that was designed to be personal and lead the
participants into a mind state of self reflection and discovery. Mine is just
one experience; some will love Volcano’s latest offering, others will have
found it painful and uncomfortable, I am sure that more than a few will have
left confused and possibly annoyed. I began as one of the second group, as a
person who does not enjoy casual physical contact; no lovey hugs or air kisses
for me thanks! But as I left the Chapter Studio I was firmly in the first
group, I loved this crazy, unpredictable production.....although I would be
very careful about who I recommended it to!
Now to explain the physical contact comment. We sat in the
foyer of the Studio, each one of us on a small bench in an individual wooden
box with the word ‘FRAGILE’ stamped on our hands like an expensive or precious
parcel. Having been asked to discard our phones, bags, jackets, watches and
even shoes and socks we all looked sheepishly at one another, initially hoping
that everyone else was doing the same and then praying we weren’t being taken
for fools. One by one we crawled barefoot into a pitch black tunnel and I
instantly regretted my fashion choice of maxi skirt as the hard ground gave way
to grass.
I fought my hayfever sneezes, not wanting to break the calm
created by the soothing ‘wilderness’ soundtrack as a pair of hands found mine
in the pitch black. I reached upwards accidentally and unmistakably grabbing an
unknown woman’s breasts! As I exclaimed a muffled and very embarassed “sorry” she
helped me up out of the tunnel and locked me in a gentle, but firm, hug
whispering “shhhhh, shhhh” in my ear – the only words to be heard all night.
As the unknown figure who had forced me into unnecessary
contact let me go I was suddenly lost. Stripped of my sight with no way to tell
which way was North I adopted the classic, hands in front, pose of the
blindfolded in the classic children’s game ‘Blind Man’s Bluff’. Occasionally I
would bump into something or someone; a velvet curtain, a corrugated cardboard
wall or a hastily withdrawn hand as I listened to the sound of a roomful of
clueless people fumbling in the dark.
Eventually, just as I was beginning to feel ok in this
visionless environment one of the hands didn’t withdraw; instead it grasped my
fingers and guided them towards this unknown person’s face making me feel the
eyes, nose and mouth like a blind person recognising a friend. They did the
same to me, I inexplicably panicked when they moved my glasses, stupidly
worried that they would take away my sight in a room that I could see anyway!
After more awkward hugs and a strange little dance we parted ways.
This pattern of complete aloneness followed by extreme
closeness continued. I strangely found myself enjoying the solitary darkness,
relying on my ears to guide me whilst also craving more of these weird
encounters. Soon my heightened sense of sound picked up a lot of rustling in
one corner, so I followed it. A dim doorway appeared and I shuffled through to
a room that my feet told me had a cardboard floor and boxes strewn in my path.
I bumbled around in there for a while alone, surprised that
no one else had joined me. All of a sudden the room seemed full of shadows that
were hastily shedding their clothes! Startled and confused I quickly made my
way back to the relative safety of the room of grass and random hugs as a light
slowly revealed the now naked actors.
Their four silhouette’s thrown against a thin paper wall separated
them and the audience, they struck a few suitably artistic poses before we
found the collective courage to enter the room. Standing awkwardly in ones and
twos the group now displayed the very British art of ‘not making eye contact’
as the performers moved slowly in the dimly lit room decorated with hundreds of
cardboard boxes.
Unfortunately it soon became clear that just because the
performers were now surrendering something to us it did not mean out part was
over. They engaged in intense, but non-threatening eye-contact for worrying
amounts of time – “do I stare back? Smile? Look away....but not down?” I opted
for a friendly returned look and an embarrassed half smile, that simultaneously
said “sorry” and “wow, you’re brave!”
Having always had ‘one of those faces’ I often find myself
on the receiving end of the sob stories of complete strangers, normally I don’t
mind this but when one of the male actors decided that on top of my feet was
the perfect place for him to lie down I cursed my overly-friendly features. He
stayed there for a long time, I tried to ignore him, watch the other move
around and occasionally jump or twist fit-like.
I was doing quite a good job until he turned his head and
locked me in his stare, he slowly raised one hand, “am I meant to help him up?”
Of course I did, just as I engaged with each of the other performers; an
intense staring competition, hand-holding and shy smiles with one of the girls,
silent comparison of our stumpy toes with the last. It seemed I was the only
one to get this full on level of connection, the most anyone else had was a box
handed to them, a head rested on their shoulder...damn my welcoming face!
After this odd display of naked strength and grace the four
of them formed a pathway, at the end of which a door opened. The audience
trailed through one by one, out into the foyer again, normality regained. There
was silence, no-one knew quite what to say.
All of this may seem bizarre and totally unnecessary to
someone reading this account but I genuinely have to say the whole experience,
although odd and uncomfortable, asked some interesting questions about
vulnerability and human connection. I’m not going to pretend that I know
exactly what Volcano were trying to tell us, but I definitelyt learned a lot about trusting my instincts and I can finally admit I do enjoy a goood, sincere hug (preferably from a family member or close friend).
Perhaps more extraordinarily if I ever see one of those
audience members or one of the performers (hopefully fully clothed) on the
street I would like to think we will share a knowing look. We will not say a
word, we will carry on with our day but in that look we will share a secret –
we know what the other is like in a state of vulnerability, we formed a strange
yet comforting bond in less than an hour and none of it was as scary I we may
have previously thought.
