Death

Enchantment at the Crypt

On Saturday I performed at the Crypt Gallery in Euston (London, UK) with my friend and fellow performance artist Limor! We each presented a one woman show for over an hour, and both of our shows connect with our most dearly departed loved ones. In my play ‘From the 7th Layer’, my Mother’s voice is heard, talking about her physical disability and how in her dreams she has a young able body. She looked forward to sleeping very much because being able to move easily and freely in her dreams was so incredible. Here is a clip where I imagine her in spirit.

Limor performs several characters in her show, who are all living inside of her, including her departed son Zohar. In 2022 a tragic accident ended his life on this plane, when he was just 22 years old. He was about to begin a Masters degree in Physics, and the only time I met him was a few weeks before he died. It was Limor’s birthday party, and he recognised me from one of my performances (‘Dreamtime‘) he’d watched on video with his Mum. That play was about a group of women friends including Limor, and she was unable to attend live. She felt nervous about seeing a version of herself portrayed by me! Zohar encouraged her to watch it, and said he would watch it with her. He was very complimentary to me about the play, and I found him extremely charming. He was so very smart and positive. The next thing I knew about him, I was at his funeral with the many grief-stricken friends and family. As is the Jewish tradition, the family then sat shiva for a week or so, and I met some of his beautiful friends who shared stories about him.

Limor and I share an interest in the metaphysical as well as creating our own performances. We used to be part of a red tent circle together. The play I performed in 2022 with Limor as inspiration for one of the characters, was a fictionalised story about the red tent group. In it, I had cast Limor as a medium, contacting the spirit world on my behalf as I was having difficulty getting through to a long lost ancestor. My Mother, already passed, was acting as a troublesome guide who interfered with my connection! Luckily Limor’s character Lila, was able to channel my great great aunt (who is the main character in my ‘Bromelia Bohemia’ play.) There is something delightfully anticipatory about our creative journey together.

Meeting up to rehearse and prepare has meant a lot for me, as doing it all on your own becomes limited after a while. You need outside eyes to watch you and feedback. You need someone to discuss the ideas and possibilities with. It adds to the experience of the process to share it with someone who is equally invested. Destiny brought us together for this as we are mutually able to assist each other.

As you get older you can feel further away from fellow performers, let alone those on a similar path. We want to free ourselves from our shadows, which is of course impossible, but we are working with performance as a way of raising our vibration, communicating our essence, and moving more into the light. There is a way that by healing ourselves we may also reach others and help to enable transformation in them. Theatrical performance is our medium. It encompasses being in our bodies as well as working with words, sometimes singing. We want to draw the audience into our world so they may imagine it for themselves, or be reminded of their own inner lives.

There is the art of how much to say, and what to leave for others’ imaginations, and sometimes discerning that is a way Limor and I may help each other. After we’ve told our story so many times, we may lose sight of its effect. The inner work which happens alongside creating, preparing and performing concerns self worth and self love and the development of those. While this is our process, these areas of personal growth are common to many many people, and by expressing some of our experience publicly we may enable or trigger others’ growth. We want to let go of what has dogged us and instead focus on what inspires us and makes us happy. A little contrast is needed to heighten the uplift, yet not excessively. Finding the most enhancing balance is part of how we help each other.

Questions I ask myself include; how does my less than year old show still feel fresh? What is it trying to say? I’m not sure. I would like it to be completely fresh. What do I want to express? Where I am now. Once I play the soundtrack and say the lines, I remember the purpose. It has a quality that transcends total freshness; it seems to stand up artistically, though I might not feel like performing it still in say three years. Let’s see where I am then.

We have rehearsed in local parks in Deptford and Greenwich, as well as Hampstead Heath, and also in the Telegraph Hill Centre. We love being outdoors and the recent weather has been ideal. We feel drawn to create work which is designed to be out in nature and that may be our next project together. The next performance dates we each have lined up are in the Deptford X art festival close to where we both live. Limor’s will be at Co-op Pepys community art project on Sunday July 13th, and mine at the Royal Albert pub on Thursday 24th July. Please join us!

Esther in her opening scene
Limor as the Giant
Limor’s costumes were arranged in a spiral on the ground in the order of the chakras
audience members were invited to become Limor’s characters!
tidying up

Life & Death in Mortlake

It has been an intensely busy period, lots going on and no time to write about it.

My Uncle who lived in Mortlake for the last few decades died at home there the other week somewhat suddenly. On a gloriously bright Winter day the family gathered on Thursday at Mortlake Crematorium. I can’t say I knew my Uncle well; he was mostly very reserved. I do remember however, on announcing to my non-plussed wider family that I intended to study drama, he remarked that being able to act is a very valuable skill, and we all need that in life. He worked on the stock exchange all his career, in a role which involved writing regular analyses of the market.

It’s funny how life sometimes lines things up so neatly. On my way to the wake, walking through Mortlake I was able to pass by Vernon Hall where our forthcoming event will be held on Saturday December 15th. The door to the building was open and as if demonstrating exactly what I needed to witness, all the heating was on in the hall, full blast. We last used the space in July, so naturally there was concern that the ample heating would be as powerful in the middle of a cold Winter. I also wanted to check the kitchen where we will make mulled wine to see what kind of stove is in operation. All was looking good.

As all the family were leaving my Aunt’s house, it happened that I had been booked to model that evening not far away in Richmond Adult Community College. What a pleasant experience; in stark contrast to a recent gig where artists made me feel uncomfortable with their constant fussing and disagreements over my pose which lasted a few sessions, these folk, led by a very calm and confident tutor made no fuss at all. Though a long pose over several days, no tape was placed around me, no chalk or charcoal marks outlining my form, no photos to ensure an exact reconfiguration. They were simply relaxed, and with some highly proficient artists among the friendly group. All styles are embraced there and it is understood they are working from life, a live model who will move a little, but if you trust her and work with her, she will find the pose happily again and again. I noticed that I felt able to give a little more of myself because the atmosphere is so positive. Everyone is there including me because we enjoy what we do, so there is no need for petty gripes.

I have never come across a group so at ease with what they do and it was empowering to know it can be done like this. I will take that knowledge elsewhere with me. I think it has something to do with the group running for about 20 years and some of the artists having seen each others’ children grow up together. There are strong bonds there which far surpass pointless fuss. There is a loving and learning environment and each week a different class member brings in a book about a favourite artist and the group discuss the work and look at the pictures.

Workshop-wise we had another fine evening last Wednesday of new models and some with experience creating original poses in 2s, 3s and a bigger group one. Here are some images by artists who were present:

A model from the October event starts the session with a 10 minute pose. Picture by Francis Wardale in felt tip I believe

A model from the October event starts the session with a 10 minute pose. Picture by Francis Wardale in felt tip I believe

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A female duo pose sitting back to back, they had not met before

A female duo pose sitting back to back, they had not met before

The same pose in charcoal and pencil by Rade

The same pose in charcoal, chalk and pencil by Rade

15An angry king with his serf, 10 minute pose

IMAG0939-1

Part of a sequence of combat poses based on the Elgin marbles!

Part of a sequence of combat poses based on the Elgin marbles!

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Women having a tussle

Women having a tussle

a tricky 10 minute bending pose

a tricky 10 minute bending pose, coming to the aid of a floor bound figure

another viewpoint

another viewpoint

a group pose finale, 10 minutes frozen drunk at a party

a group pose finale, 10 minutes frozen drunk at a party

We are looking forward to celebrating life on Saturday 15th December, in the afternoon in Vernon Hall, Mortlake. Do get in touch if you would like to come and draw, paint or sculpt.

Michel de Montaigne ~ an Inspiration on ‘How to Live’

Lucy shared excerpts with me from Sarah Bakewell’s book, ‘How to Live: A Life of Montaigne‘. This 16th Century diarist is one originator of the modern penchant for describing everything we experience and think about, as it happens to us in minute detail. In particular he was obsessed by dying until a near death experience relieved him of the worry. A hazardous fall from his horse at the then mid-life age of 36, altered his outlook.

“In dying, he now realised, you do not encounter death at all, for you are gone before it gets there. You die in the same way that you fall asleep: by drifting away. If other people try to pull you back, you hear their voices on ‘the edges of your soul’. Your existence is attached by a thread; it rests only on the tip of your lips, as he put it. Dying is not an action that can be prepared for. It is an aimless reverie.”

“He particularly liked the story of Marcellinus, who avoided a painful death from disease by a gentle method of euthanasia. After fasting for several days, Marcellinus laid himself down in a very hot bath. No doubt he was already weakened by his illness; the bath simply steamed the last breaths of life out of him. He passed out slowly, and then he passed away. As he went he murmured languorously to his friends about the pleasure he was experiencing.”

The strange thing about Montaigne’s experience was that in the aftermath of his fall he had been convulsing violently, in what appeared to be a disturbed manner, yet simultaneously he felt very light and floaty; he was enjoying a sort of ecstasy!

He wrote, ‘If you don’t know how to die, don’t worry; Nature will tell you what to do on the spot, fully and adequately.”

He said it is best to ‘slide over this world a bit lightly and on the surface.’

“Through this discovery of gliding and drifting, he lost much of his fear, and at the same time acquired a new sense that life, as it passed through his body was a very interesting subject for investigation.”

He was very taken with contemplation and wrote, ‘let us cut loose from all the ties that bind us to others; let us win from ourselves the power to live really alone and to live that way at our ease.’

He regarded Seneca’s advice for achieving peace of mind; ‘focus on what is present in front of you, and pay full attention to it.’

And Pliny, ‘each man is a good education to himself, provided he has the capacity to spy on himself from close up.’

Of his own essay writing Montaigne wrote, ‘It is a thorny undertaking, and more so than it seems, to follow a movement so wandering as that of our mind, to penetrate the opaque depths of its innermost folds, to pick out and immobilise the innumerable flutterings that agitate it.’

Bakewell writes, “He was so determined to get to the bottom even of a phenomenon that was normally lost by definition – sleep – that he had a long-suffering servant wake him regularly in the middle of the night in the hope of catching a glimpse of his own unconsciousness as it left him”!

I found Bakewell’s analysis quite soothing, and her snippets of Montaigne intoxicating. Thank you Lucy for pleasurable advice on how to live.

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