Author: Jon Keevy

Fugard at the Fugard

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a post that’s actually about writing and not really a review at all

Drive or walk around the city and you can see my work. A blazing sunset with a thorn tree silhouetted against it. Three small figures can be seen under it, while a flock of birds pass overhead. “Athol Fugard’s The Bird Watchers” the title states in letters taller even than municipal regulations would have them. It’s not the kind of poster I generally like, I’m not a fan of landscapes and the iconography is a touch too clichéd (I should probably mention that I am the designer, but I’ll leave that hanging). But it does make sense in the context of the story Fugard tells, if not with the scenography of Saul Radomsky. Fugard is a writer driven by the wisdom: “write what you know” and in the Birdwatchers he draws on the setting and memories of his conversations with Barney Simon and Yvonne Bryceland. The Central character is Garth, a writer revisiting a time with Lenny, a director, and Rosalyn, an actress. But these roles don’t sum up the relationship between the 3 of them. The play comes in two acts split by an interval and an understaffed scene change. The first half is set in the real world, under the unGwenya tree of Garth’s home and the second is a return to that place and time by an aged Garth in his imagination. The stark simplicity of the stump of the tree and the sear decay of his re-imagined home was biting. The story is a self-flagellation as Garth regrets words, attitudes, selfishness and wasted potential. What I found to be greatest flaw and also the most thought-provoking aspect of the production was this self-absorption, a feedback loop of pain. At one pointed I wanted to give Uncle Athol a hug, in part because a lot of his cutting words I’ve used on myself many times.

There’s this tremendous ego at work when I’m writing.  I’m creating a world of events that I think, believe, know are fascinating to others, are relevant, important and irreplaceable. Did I say Unique? Yes, I believe that too. Against the cacophony of cries that nothing is original, I believe my work is. We are all snowflakes. All writers believe it although they don’t all admit it.

I wasn’t absorbed by the story on stage, either emotionally or intellectually and at the close I wasn’t moved to my feet. But the naked self-portrait followed by the man himself blew the top off my head. Fugard emerged to handle the Q&A with a sneaky and witty answer to anticipated questions of autobiography: he was wearing the same clothes as the character Garth. Justin Cartwright lead the Q&A with Fugard, but we struggled to hear our host, even though Fugard was as clear as the actors had been.

Essentially my thoughts were caught up in this question: Why do we write what we write? Fugard tackles this quite early on. “Love her.” He tells us, referring to all the ugliness, despair and human decay the world has, personified for him in an encounter with a homeless woman. This idea, that writing needs to be driven by compassion, clicked for me. Looking at the plays I’ve seen recently I think that audiences have always known this. While the political satires become shrill or petty and the beautiful, witty pieces of escapist fantasy struggle to be understood, stories of simple compassion genuinely touch people. Look at London Road, look at …miskien. When writing doesn’t let itself love something, or when the director doesn’t see it or the actor doesn’t feel it can still be a lot of things, but it can’t change the audience.

There are a lot of other ideas I’m still processing, about performance styles, politics and morality. For now, let’s leave it on the lesson learned.

“Love her.”

Breaking Blocks

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Writer’s Block and a Writer’s Workout

Too often I can’t write. I stare at the screen. I stare at my keyboard. I stare at my sandwich. I decide I need to clip my fingernails, vacuum the carpet, and bake a complicated supper I only have one ingredient for.

Writer’s block is the single biggest reason I don’t often think of myself as a writer. If I was really a writer, surely writing would be easier? But I’ve fought this battle before, quite a number of times. People who know me well can tell when I’m in a slump because I stare at nothing, get up and wander around and open the fridge without taking anything out. Also I look depressed. I am. But it’s the flip side of the beautiful moment when you are on a roll, when the words just flow. And not just any words – submerged themes surface and become clear, motivations and solutions to plot problems are as obvious and imminent as the end of this sentence.

But I’m not preaching that writer’s block should just be accepted, I think it’s a time for you to grow by trying different things. Writer’s block can be the hesitation when I’m about to finish a sentence with a cliché or it can be the days spent reading while a character hangs over the chasm between point A and B. The most basic thing writer’s block teaches you is humility. Writing isn’t easy. Yet of all the arts it’s the one that people take up with the least preparation. Writer’s block is the cramp you get because you didn’t stretch before you hit the mat, the canvas you wasted because you didn’t do any pre-sketches.

This is how I deal with writer’s block when it happens and before it happens. Most of these things are obvious and I probably got them from any of the hundreds of books, articles and blogs on writing I’ve read. I know they work because I’ve been doing this for a decade and I’ve spent most of that time not writing. That I can work consistently now is not a result of a change in my timetable, it’s because I prepare before I write.

1.)    Keep a journal

Don’t worry about being profound; don’t even worry about being accurate. Just write every day about what has happened to you, about what you did. It gets you in the habit of writing even when you have no projects on the go, or you can’t stand the thought of being creative. I always carry around an A5 notebook; a day is usually 2 pages and takes me less than 15 minutes. I do it while I wait for food to cook. In Cape Town, if you’re punctual you’re in the minority with me – but that’s fine. In those ten or fifteen minutes spent waiting every day I have all the time I need to keep my journal up to date. Beyond its help with your writing, keeping a journal will be the best investment you ever made. Don’t lose all those memories and experiences. I only started 2 years ago and I kick myself I didn’t start sooner.

2.)    Build good habits, vary them

This is just good advice for everyone who wants to be productive and creative. The key is not to start with your dream timetable. You wouldn’t make a resolution to do a hundred pushups everyday and start there, would you? No, if your goal is to be writing for 5 hours every day, or 3000 words, or ten pages, then you set your short term goal at half an hour, 500 words or half a page. Make it stick, and then build it up. So you’ve got your goals, now fit them into your timetable.  So simple! It’s like… wow. The catch is to make the schedule flexible enough that you can try new things out. I like to write in different places, not just on my home PC. I often write in coffee shops, galleries, parks – places that offer a change of scenery and thus a different perspective. A favourite of mine is the Natural History Museum. Also try to figure out what time is your best time for writing, not in terms of convenience but in terms of your energy, your creativity. Now take risk and try a different time. The results can be surprising.

3.)    Free write: Use the Cards

OK, here are some resources for you. You’re going to need a pack of cards to use them. This is the core of my writing work out. Deal yourself 3 cards, one for each of the tables.

Now start writing about these. I like to remember the TheatreSports™ adage: “When you get a horror, start with two grannies knitting.” Meaning, don’t start with a character holding a shoe, standing in a cupboard, talking about loss. Actually, you can. Do it. It sounds like it could be great. I keep writing for at least an hour for this exercise. If the scene gets stale, if you start slowing down, then start over with 3 new cards (you don’t have to start the clock again). These scenes aren’t important. They don’t have to connect to anything. They don’t even have to be any good or make sense. They are lifting writing weights so your endurance and clarity get stronger.

4.)    Read about Writing, Write about Reading

I assume you’re already reading prose, poetry, scripts and news reports. (If you’re not why exactly do you write?) Read books about writing too. Most of them are crap – only good enough to be short articles on a blog. But there’s always something useful, some tip, an exercise or a quote that makes it worthwhile. Frequently they have recommended reading lists at the back that point you to better, wiser gurus. I’d recommend Story by Robert McKee, 3 Uses of the Knife by David Mamet, The Hero with a Thousand Faces by Joseph Campbell and On Writing by Stephen King.

Keep track of what you read and what you learn. Like a quote? Write it down. Summarise, review and preserve what you read. Memory is fallible, that’s why writing was invented.

5.)    Try different styles

With your wide reading you should be exposing yourself to different genres and eras. And not just fiction – read reports, academic treatises and biographies. Try text books and encyclopaedias. Dip into letters and poetry. Right now I’m going through H. Rider Haggard’s Allan Quartermain and the tone and sweep of the prose is fascinating. Try writing something in one of these styles.

A project I’ve been working on the background for quite a while is a science fiction novel. It requires a lot of notes to track the invented cultures, histories and geography. Instead of keeping these as bits and pieces I’ve been writing ‘academic’ articles and fragments of journals and letters. It works for me because I’m a geek and a big fan of Borges. But try it out next time you’re doing a plot summary or a character sketch. It’s all about finding a voice.

6.)    Skip ahead

Sometimes I can’t get characters from point A to point B. The plot seems to make sense but there’s a gap of action that sinks my best efforts. Mostly it’s because I don’t know enough about where the story is, geographically, or I haven’t spent enough time with the characters. It can be tempting to solve every problem as it comes up while you’re writing but the most important thing is momentum. The first 30 minutes of writing are the hardest, stick to it though and you’ll see the reward when you really get in the groove. Stopping to google a map of the city or the history of the cardigan is not going solve the greatest concern, the story.

7.)    Never be afraid of starting over

Last year I had a hard drive crash and my back up failed in a series of unlikely events. I lost 90% of 3 years of writing. But it might as well have not existed. Nobody is poorer for its loss. In fact, I may be better. I think that this world tells us that work that produces nothing tangible is wasted; I think that’s wrong. Whenever we have to start over we’re never really starting from scratch, even if we have no words or materials. If you continue to build something up on unsound foundations your finished product will be unsound, that is real wasted effort. Stopping half way and then starting over to create your best work takes patience and effort, but I believe it is the only worthwhile way to create art. I was forced to look at the foundations of my work, the hardcopy notes I first made of the stories. I had to ask myself in each case what was worth rebuilding, and why.

Home safe from the KKNK

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On the 31stof March at 6am I hit the N1 out of Cape Town with Gaetan Schmidt and Jason Ralph. Together we drove for 5 hours and at some point crossed over the mysterious “Boere Wors Curtain” and into the land of Die Taal. We arrived in Oudtshoorn just in time to get to work. What were we doing so far from our Soutie homes? We were taking part in FTH:K’s latest step towards global domination: Iets Anders.

This seems like a great way to transport set.And actors.

Built up on the same model as the Cape Town Edge, Iets Anders is a group of theatremakers making independent work but coming together to provide support and lower the costs of things like accommodation, transport and, most importantly, marketing. This is the first year Iets Anders has run and the lineup was: Rumpsteak, …miskien, London Road, Hats and Pictures of You. The marketing encouraged the title, that the venue was ‘something different’ from the rest of the festival, noting the English, Edgy, Physical and Visual theatre elements. In retrospect the KKNK isn’t the kind of festival that people come to for something different, let alone something English. Still, FTH:K worked hard and Next year they’ll be ready to knock the sokkies off for real. You can check their blog of the fest Here.

So we arrived and got straight to work. I’ll give the KKNK its due, the Techies are good. Better than NAF? They certainly think so. I still have my doubts. There were a lot of comparisons between the KKNK and NAF flying around – most of them not very flattering to the NAF. I’ll say this: Both had good and bad aspects, they both have great people working for them, they both are trying to run huge festivals with limited resources – sometimes you get faulty lights/dimmers/bulbs. It’s the nature of festivals in this country.

Despite 4 hours of get-in, I still hadn’t run the sound for London Road by the time we were kicked out by the next production. Still, despite one of the lamest rigs ever proposed, the Ladies were looking good on their island of carpet.

The next couple of days were pretty mixed up, trying to get into a rhythm and create a smooth running get-in and strike. Too many braais happening all the time. Too much Klippies. Finally a balance was struck and I could relax into a good daily ritual with the ladies. I even got to see some shows, despite ticket prices that were about 95% of my daily S&T.

First of these was Lot directed by Nicola Hanekom, which was the buzz of the festival (at least among those I was standing near to) and it was certainly an ambitious piece. A solitary security guard in a parking lot in the afterlife sits awaiting the arrival of those killed in car accidents. I wasn’t sold. Although there were moments of real magic it veered between pretentiously silly and pretentiously dull. Neels van Jaarsveld however stood out from the ensemble with his madcap pop star.

I had a better time with Wees (Orphan) directed by Hennie van Gruenen; I had seen the original production performed in Edinburgh in 2009. The text was fantastically gripping – perhaps more so in its new Afrikaans context, to which themes of Us versus Them are uncomfortably well suited. The piece was only let down by weak design – from set through sound and lighting, good ideas were just poorly executed. The performances were great from Nicola Hanekom, André Weideman and Gustav Gerdener.

Messe en Henne was a South African and Dutch collaboration from De Appel directed by David Geysen and performed by Albert Pretorious, Nadia Amin and Hugo Maerten. Here was something really exciting – the direction and performances were a daring interpretation of a monstrously intense text by David Harrower. I didn’t like all the choices, hated a couple even, but they were a muscular expansion on the South African directing vocabulary (the very same reason I love the work of Jaco Bouwer).

Overall the festival was great fun and I definitely want to come back and conquer it thoroughly.

Crowsong: the Thank You list.

/ Jon Keevy / 1 Comment

On the 16th and 17th of March we took over Theatre in the district with a theatre experiment called Crowsong. Here’s who I’d like to thank for making it possible.

Caffeine: Jason Potgieter frightens me. He’s a force of nature that sweeps up medium sized trees and Korean cars and rearranges furniture. So when Jason says you have spare time to put on a show, you have spare time. Or you make it. Because otherwise you’ll have missed out on something that’ll change the way you think.

So we met and bounced ideas and sat in bars with inappropriately large sheets of paper and koki pens. We doodled and shmoodled and made a script with stick figures and arrows. I was the builder of devices and Jason was the dynamo – arriving at the theatre in the district after a full day at Handspring but bringing the sound and fury with a dash a of significance.

The story started out as ideas about mad puppeteer-alchemists. Jason gave me a stack of photocopies of kabbala mysticism, medieval mythology and astrological charts. I gave him China Miéville’s Kraken. Together we scavenged lamps and clamps and cables and tables and all kinds of goodies to make magic with. We came up with the story an ordinary man who loses his lover. And tries to bring her back. So he seeks out the services of specialists.

Freaky specialists.

So we needed an actor to join us.

Gumtree: James MacGregor has been around the block too often for one so young. So he must be talented, surely? Doesn’t really matter, we told ourselves, the part is easy.

Turns out we were wrong. The part is difficult. And James isn’t talented. Talented is what your five year old nephew is when he builds a sand castle higher than him. What do you call him when he installs working elevators and a suspension bridge? What ever word you decide on, that’s Jimmy. He hurled himself at this for no money. The lights? He did ’em. The music? He did… Well, he found and edited it while Jason and I were quibbling over pleats.

I have seldom been so impressed with an actor on so many levels. He’s committed, passionate, funny, talented (or whatever) and he manages it despite being forced to live life as a ginger and looking a bit like Matt Damon. If you have the right light.

Happy Crate: The Theatre in the District is cool in that way that only not caring about being cool is cool. Do you follow? It cares about art and community. Brian and Trish Notcutt have made an amazing space to work. With almost no money we were able to rehearse and perform and transform a real theatre into our mad lab. We hung brown paper all over it and strung up cardboard crows.

Bosnia and Ethiopia: Sanjin rocks. Nothing surprises him. He comes home to find wheels being fitted on to the coffee table and doesn’t even blink. The flat is covered with torn paper, sawdust and offcuts of plastic. The painful shriek of a file on wood destroys his quiet enjoyment of the world cup. But he bats not an eyelash. He leant us the camera and projector gratis despite the danger of oil, ink and noodles. And lets not for get who first thought up live drawing…

He also filmed the show. Here’s a clip he posted on Youtube and the CT Live blog:

Genetics: To furnish the space with crates and rope and stools and bits and pieces required more theft than expected. Fortunately our parents rarely press charges. But that’s a minor part of why I have to thank the folks. I would not be able to make my own theatre without them, without their support. And I know how rare that support is for people. Thank you.

Corner Store: Dillon and Beren, they came in, ate some chicken and drank some coke and called it even for lifting, rigging, pushing buttons, taking donations, getting people seated and striking the set. Well, we’re not even. I owe you guys some grunt work. You know where to find me.

The final thank you is for everyone who came to watch or sent support to 3 crazy theatremakers. Especially to all those who spread the love on facebook, their blogs and face to face. And a super big one to Jesse Kramer for bringing along her magic camera. I’ll sign off with one of her shots. You can get a hold of her on her website.