//My process performance is over.
What am I supposed to do with all the paper now?
I experimented.
That’s all I wanted to do.
Experimented with my mind.
Experimented with my hand muscles.
Experimented with marker pen fumes.
Experimented with endurance and pain.
Experimented with me.
This was an experience that gave me something more than reciting lines ever could.
It was about a discovery of the self.
I made some big discoveries.
They’re on the paper.
//I thought that the process of taking down the paper would be theraputic.
But it wasn’t.
If anything it upset me.
I didn’t want to be taken down.
I didn’t want to leave what had become my space.
Again the process was a long one.
Leaving me with these remnants.
//It was so overwhelming to stand in the space.
It was me on the walls.
Even writing these words, these secondary experiences, I feel emotional.
There were some things in that room that no one has ever heard or read before.
It was me laid bare.
I felt very exposed.
But I also felt invigorated.
The mass of black and white covered my vision.
I can only hope that this is the experience that others found.
But I am also keen for everyone to have an individual experience and response to the work.
So much paper means that most people will not look in detail at the same areas as others, giving them an individual experience.
Some will have visited during the week, and then not seen the finished product.
Some will have only seen the finished product.
Some will have seen both.
Some will have watched online.
//It took me 4 hours to stick all the paper onto the walls/floor/table/stool/chairs.
As long as a day of writing.
I found a new kind of pain.
The pain of masking tape.
The repetitive nature of the task made it feel very similar to the writing.
The paper felt never ending.
I felt like Sisyphus.
Wes and Dan visited the room before it was ‘finished’.
I’m glad that they did.
They experience yet another version of the piece.
Seeing it in a different stage of the process.
//When I get home from writing I find myself re-performing the work in my head.
Remembering things that I put onto paper.
Remembering things that I didn’t put onto paper.
The Writing Room has taken over my life.
I want to write for longer.
//The final day.
8 hours.
Double the time.
Marker pens for 8 hours.
I fell asleep.
I got high.
I went crazy.
There was a huge feeling of relief and completion at the end of the 8 hours.
I finished a task I wasn’t sure I’d ever finish.
The experiment part 1 was a success.
I think.
You tell me.
My writing from day five:
//Day four.
Despite having less visitors than usual the time passed quickly.
I got frustrated when one visitor tried to censor their writing.
The piece isn’t about creating writing that is ‘artistic’.
It’s just about writing.
My writing from day four:
The visitors’ writing from day four:
//Day Three
Today seemed forgettable.
Middle of the road day feels lost already.
Writing came easier again.
I felt guilt from yesterday still spilling over.
I felt the need to make it up to the visitors.
As if they were one entity.
My writing from day three:
The visitors’ writing from day three:
//The second day.
Today was hard. Emotionally hard.
I did not enjoy the company of the visitors.
I wanted them to leave as soon as possible.
As soon as they left I resented them for leaving.
My writing from day two:
//And so it has begun.
As the first extended period of writing that I’ve ever completed, I was surprised at the lengths I could go to.
I started to figure out strategies to allow for continuous writing.
Write with my right hand.
Write with my left hand.
Draw a picture (it takes less muscle strain).
I enjoyed the companionship of the visitors.
My writing from day one:
The visitors’ writing from day one:
//The set up for the space is very simple.
Black square table.
Two wooden chairs.
One wooden stool.
One laptop.
One lamp.
Two piles of paper.
Two marker pens.
I wanted to keep the space simple so that at the end of the writing process I have something of stark contrast.
I also wanted the space to be quite bland so as not to provide too much distraction.
//I’ve made a trail of papers to my room.
They can be followed.
I feel like the white rabbit.
Or Hansel and Gretel.
Leaving crumbs so that I can be found.
//‘In “make-believe” performances, the distinction between what’s real and what’s pretended is kept clear’ (Schechner 2002, p.42)
The work that I am making is in no way a ‘make-believe’ performance.
I do not intend to play a role other than the role of myself.
Allan Kaprow, creator of the ‘Happenings’ worked to
‘make a distinction between “artlike art” and “lifelike art”‘ (Schechner 2002, p.39).
I intend to create a “lifelike art” in that it is me, in real life, writing.
Schechner, R (2002) 'What is Performance?', Performance Studies: An Introduction, London: Routledge, pp.28-51
//Despite not wanting to do a ‘dress rehearsal’ it was important for me to test the live stream.
Good news – it was a success.
I recorded if you so wish to see.
http://www.ustream.tv/recorded/26987975
I wanted to have a live stream from the room so that there is another medium for an audience to experience the work.
I purposefully set it up so that there was little light, but rather just a sense of endless writing.
//How can I make the public aware of my presence upstairs?
Text. This piece is all about the production of text. So surely text is my best option.
The plan is to create a paper trail leading to the cupboard, no instructions of what it’s leading to – that’s far too easy.
Twitter. Text production of the new age. @RebeccaMann90 #
How do I communicate the intentions of the piece?
I need to externalise the performance that is confined to the internal space of my cupboard.
Please Enter Alone. No Other Rules Apply.
Please Enter Alone. No Other Rules Apply.
Please Enter Alone. No Other Rules Apply.
Please Enter Alone. No Other Rules Apply.
Please Enter Alone. No Other Rules Apply.
Please Enter Alone. No Other Rules Apply.
The text needs to be repeated. All identical. Or should there be slight differences?
Please Enter Alone. No Other Rules Apply.
Come In With Only Yourself. Everything Else Is Undetermined.
Take a seat. Only Room For One. Please Take Liberties.
Don’t Bring A Friend. I’ll Let You Do What You Like Though.
Proceed To Open The Door. It Permits One Body. What Do You Do Next?
Do You Want To Come In? Solo Pass Only. No Plans In Place.
//I don’t believe that the improvised quality of the performance being produced can be rehearsed without leading to a stale, pre-determined output.
– so I’ve become a hidden performance, only being revealed at the very last moment.
As others push through a work-in-progress I feel like I can only sit and contemplate the aesthetics of my space and try to imagine the eventualities I might come across.
How can I write for 4 hours straight a day?
How can I write for 8 hours straight?
This piece will be a test for myself, a performance for myself.
Not just for the audience.
Quite selfish.
//The final space has been determined at last.
No shed, but I’m content.
Black space, feels like a performance.
Strip lighting – no.
It needs dressing with furniture, but nothing else.
Sparse.
Hidden.
Third floor of the building.
Tucked away.
Alone.
//How honest am I going to be when I’m writing?
As time passes, surely I will run out of things to say, and only be left with myself?
What else can I express?
My interactions with participants – how honest can I be about my perceptions, emotional attachments or judgements?
Can I expect the same in return?
Will the whole text be a fantasy that has no relation to me?
I doubt it. I want to get myself onto paper.
//The way I present myself in the space will be very important.
It will alter the participant’s contribution for sure.
Should I wear all black and provide a stern ‘performance mode’ model for them to greet?
I want to make them feel comfortable, feel as though they can contribute in an honest, safe way.
I don’t wear all black, so it’s not honest.
I’ll dress as me.
I’m not playing a character.
I’m playing me.
//The end of the shed.
Due to planning permission and other official barriers the shed will not be going ahead.
Let the hunt for small spaces begin.