#52 - The Final Frontier
Hello hello,
Welcome to the penultimate Patelogram. This week, I was mostly fending off a rabid bout of anxiety. I had a project that I needed to finish work on. It wasn't particularly *difficult* work exactly, but I just couldn't seem to settle my mind to take it on. Whenever I approached the desk, the thing just seemed so insurmountably large and in need of being undeniably genius I started to panic. I forgot my training. Heck, I forgot the advice I so often give to others. It's not about brilliant pages. It's about consistent minutes. Turn up. Write one line. The rest is so much easier for it.
So I'm repeat this for me and for you. Put your bum in the chair. Write a line. Look at your cat. Repeat.
Let's crack on with it, shall we? In this letter I'm going to muse mostly about brown-led productions and a little on green-eyed monsters. It's longer than usual, but you've not got many of these left so maybe sit down and enjoy over a nice decaf tea rather than racing through on the bus.
TOWARDS A BROWN NEUTRALITY
I've written elsewhere about the neutrality of whiteness across performance, and in particular within theatre. The concise version of this is: Parts coded as white are very often taken as the universal experience. This affects how much empathy audience bring to it. How much they seem themselves in it. It also affects subsequent productions. It allows a play to be one that "travels" easily.
I've been thinking about this again while writing Brown Chekhov in Space (aka my version of The Cherry Orchard) and watching a playwright post pictures of productions of their (excellent) play across the world. Though the part wasn't explicitly coded as such, the original production of that play had a white actor in the role. I wonder if the response would've been the same if it hadn't? Would the take up still be quite so strong? Perhaps! Especially nowadays. It absolutely works whoever is in the part and that's part of the joy of it. But it was still originated that way and I wonder when you watch it with someone else whether that knowledge sits on it still somehow. Through the writing. Through the (careful?) lack of specificity. I don't think this speaks ill of the writer's intention. The central gesture of the piece itself is extremely generous and I adore it.
I want to be that generous. But I'm also strongly drawn to originating big parts that demand actors who aren't white and more often than not I do this through specificity. I'm aware that by doing this with a play limits its reach which previously I've been fine with...but the more I think about it, the more I wonder if this does essentially self-silo in a way that prevents the spread of work by minority-focused artists (and, from a point of vanity, my own reach).
What to do then? How to both protect the parts you created and the intention behind it while also allowing more expansive possibilities for your work? How to provide a sense of brown neutrality that doesn't erase? Especially when the creation of those parts for brown actors was part of the drive behind the project in the first place.
Other plays of mine, because of the circumstances they explore require, usually, an Asian actor. With this Cherry Orchard I'm writing, though the sci-fi conceit is baked in, it's not - say - a deep portrait for Indofuturism exactly nor was it designed to be. I wanted to be be specific but wear that influence lightly. So it could make for an interesting test case. But I do want this to be thought of as a brown sci-fi play in the first instance, not a 'neutral' sci-fi play. I want something of the feel of that to remain.
All of this thought has led to me basically dicking about with the introductory text notes in an attempt to square this probably unsquareable circle. Still, as an attempt to harness all of that, here's where I've gotten to...
"The action takes place on a spaceship, an indeterminate number of years in the future. Everyone on this spaceship is of South Asian descent but they don’t have the context to experience that as a point of difference. They are possibly all that’s left of humanity.
Essentially, make the threshold for changes high and part of an interrogated, creative act as opposed to starting and finishing from a place of "I don't know enough Asians but I wanna do this play so...". I've phrased it as I have because there is also within the Asian characters themselves an implied hierarchy from their socio-religious context that is also mapped onto the character names and dialogue. That context is important in terms of detail, but it's not a detail I want to make crucial to the scenario itself. So not just about allowing eventual shifts away from the brownness but also giving permission for immediate shifts within it too, if desired.
I'll keep refining but I would absolutely love to hear your thoughts on this one. This feels like a step that's necessary. It feels like where I want to get to eventually.
CODA: I realise that foreign films being remade by Western cinema is sort of a version of this? But it's not quite the same I don't think. So often the goal is to make you forget it's based on something else rather than embrace that in the telling.
In a separate thought...I'm remembering that one week when The Woman in Black in...2008 I think...swapped out for a Japanese production of it! Like, it wasn't interpolated into a Japanese context, as far as I recall, it was Japanese actors being those ye olden English characters. I had to check that this wasn't a fever dream. Obviously not what I'm talking about but totally wish I'd seen it.
ANYTHING YOU CAN DO...
I wanted to touch on this publicly because of late I've had a fair few people talk to me about their frustrations and jealous reactions and, well, we never really want to properly express that out loud. Perhaps because it feels ungenerous. Perhaps it's too self-centering of another's work. Perhaps because jealousy is just quite a grubby reaction? We'll happily bring it up as a joke but that real, deep-delving chaos it creates is something that we think speaks poorly of us.
I think we need to let ourselves off the hook a bit here. Especially since so much jealousy comes from being in a precarious position. Ironically, it's when you have the least for others to be jealous of that your own jealousy is a bit tempered (unless you're a real dick) by the knowledge you've got much to learn and, with any luck, all the opportunities ahead of you still. Of course jealousy still exists, but the counter-weight of humility is strong.
Then, as you move through your career (sorry for using that word - replace it with whatever you like), you gain a bit of traction, a bit of self-belief, a bit of notice...perhaps you even make this thing you love your career. And oh boy, then are you f*cked. There are now so many more axes from which the jealousy can hit, the financial one being the most anxiety inducing since it runs so strongly alongside shame. How dare you indulge yourself so much to put you/your dependants lives in an unstable position! "How come I'm not doing as well as them? They're shit!"
If you hadn't clocked yet, that's quite a corrosive position for your soul to be in for too long. I caveat that with too long because as well as being entirely natural, that jealousy can be useful. My profound jealousy when I was first starting out really did spur me on to try and at least work harder. It's only a problem if, as I've said, it stays with you for too long, starts to override your enjoyment of work you'd otherwise love or starts to govern the way you value your own work. So how to combat each of those?
1) If jealousy is wrapping you up for too long, sit down with yourself and try to be really honest about the sources of the anxieties that are powering it. If it's money then consider whether doing something else part-time will take that out of the equation for you. I'm a big believer in de-stigmatising part-time work when it comes to participating in the arts. Of course, ideally, every arts job would be full-time and well-paid but for some even that wouldn't necessarily make you happy or what you want. Plenty of people - people who could easily do writing as a full-time gig - don't go for that and do better work without that pressure on them.
2) If you're going to, say, the theatre hoping that something will be terrible, you need to stop going for a bit. It won't make you happy and you'll be a bad audience member. I think it's honestly better to skip a friend's show if you're in that mood than to put yourself in that space. If they're a good friend, they'll understand that.
3) Push to keep your head in your own metrics. It doesn't matter if someone got a 6 week tour, or a big thriller away if neither of those things are what you are looking towards. It's so easy to let yourself get diverted for the sake of chasing status that you don't really want.
Someone smashing your own metrics is obviously pretty tough. Try and cultivate feeling happy for them in the first instance. That doesn't mean negating your jealousy. It just means finding the positives in the successes of others. Perhaps it means there's more demand for your kind of writing and proves the case for it. Perhaps you can just be a fan and that brings its own joy. If your mind is consistently tied to 'beating' people you'll never truly enjoy this thing you loved enough to throw your life at. It's easy to be a fan when you're starting out, harder as you go on. But it's worth working on.
This is a little rushed but I'll write up a fuller blog on this post-zatelograms.
KITTY KORNER
A quiet time on this front, though I'm still glad to be back with them for the foreseeable. Chill Cat has become supremely vocal about keeping him company. I can't tell if this is a sign of his old age, a sign that he is in pain or alternatively a sign that, perhaps now he's had his troublesome teeth out, he's much more personable. Either way, he near constantly chirps at you to come sit with him on the sofa and gets annoyed if you don't do it. Luckily for him, plenty of people are happy to indulge him.
Pretty Cat meanwhile I think is delving deep into some of his own psychodramas. Sometimes he's comfortable and seems safe. Mostly though, the look in his eyes suggest he's constantly experiencing a Vietnam flashback. If life is that intense for him when he's awake, I don't dare to wonder what his dreams are like...
Vin x
Welcome to the penultimate Patelogram. This week, I was mostly fending off a rabid bout of anxiety. I had a project that I needed to finish work on. It wasn't particularly *difficult* work exactly, but I just couldn't seem to settle my mind to take it on. Whenever I approached the desk, the thing just seemed so insurmountably large and in need of being undeniably genius I started to panic. I forgot my training. Heck, I forgot the advice I so often give to others. It's not about brilliant pages. It's about consistent minutes. Turn up. Write one line. The rest is so much easier for it.
So I'm repeat this for me and for you. Put your bum in the chair. Write a line. Look at your cat. Repeat.
Let's crack on with it, shall we? In this letter I'm going to muse mostly about brown-led productions and a little on green-eyed monsters. It's longer than usual, but you've not got many of these left so maybe sit down and enjoy over a nice decaf tea rather than racing through on the bus.
TOWARDS A BROWN NEUTRALITY
I've written elsewhere about the neutrality of whiteness across performance, and in particular within theatre. The concise version of this is: Parts coded as white are very often taken as the universal experience. This affects how much empathy audience bring to it. How much they seem themselves in it. It also affects subsequent productions. It allows a play to be one that "travels" easily.
I've been thinking about this again while writing Brown Chekhov in Space (aka my version of The Cherry Orchard) and watching a playwright post pictures of productions of their (excellent) play across the world. Though the part wasn't explicitly coded as such, the original production of that play had a white actor in the role. I wonder if the response would've been the same if it hadn't? Would the take up still be quite so strong? Perhaps! Especially nowadays. It absolutely works whoever is in the part and that's part of the joy of it. But it was still originated that way and I wonder when you watch it with someone else whether that knowledge sits on it still somehow. Through the writing. Through the (careful?) lack of specificity. I don't think this speaks ill of the writer's intention. The central gesture of the piece itself is extremely generous and I adore it.
I want to be that generous. But I'm also strongly drawn to originating big parts that demand actors who aren't white and more often than not I do this through specificity. I'm aware that by doing this with a play limits its reach which previously I've been fine with...but the more I think about it, the more I wonder if this does essentially self-silo in a way that prevents the spread of work by minority-focused artists (and, from a point of vanity, my own reach).
What to do then? How to both protect the parts you created and the intention behind it while also allowing more expansive possibilities for your work? How to provide a sense of brown neutrality that doesn't erase? Especially when the creation of those parts for brown actors was part of the drive behind the project in the first place.
Other plays of mine, because of the circumstances they explore require, usually, an Asian actor. With this Cherry Orchard I'm writing, though the sci-fi conceit is baked in, it's not - say - a deep portrait for Indofuturism exactly nor was it designed to be. I wanted to be be specific but wear that influence lightly. So it could make for an interesting test case. But I do want this to be thought of as a brown sci-fi play in the first instance, not a 'neutral' sci-fi play. I want something of the feel of that to remain.
All of this thought has led to me basically dicking about with the introductory text notes in an attempt to square this probably unsquareable circle. Still, as an attempt to harness all of that, here's where I've gotten to...
"The action takes place on a spaceship, an indeterminate number of years in the future. Everyone on this spaceship is of South Asian descent but they don’t have the context to experience that as a point of difference. They are possibly all that’s left of humanity.
The circumstances of the ship’s departure from Earth is implied in this text. Each production should establish the story and world of that departure within a South Asian context for themselves and not be beholden to the hierarchies and legacies suggested here. Feel free to change names and references if necessary.
You may, with the author’s permission, adjust the circumstances of this version to suit other cultural contexts, though he strongly encourages you to create a backstory that honours the suggested casting.
Essentially, make the threshold for changes high and part of an interrogated, creative act as opposed to starting and finishing from a place of "I don't know enough Asians but I wanna do this play so...". I've phrased it as I have because there is also within the Asian characters themselves an implied hierarchy from their socio-religious context that is also mapped onto the character names and dialogue. That context is important in terms of detail, but it's not a detail I want to make crucial to the scenario itself. So not just about allowing eventual shifts away from the brownness but also giving permission for immediate shifts within it too, if desired.
I'll keep refining but I would absolutely love to hear your thoughts on this one. This feels like a step that's necessary. It feels like where I want to get to eventually.
CODA: I realise that foreign films being remade by Western cinema is sort of a version of this? But it's not quite the same I don't think. So often the goal is to make you forget it's based on something else rather than embrace that in the telling.
In a separate thought...I'm remembering that one week when The Woman in Black in...2008 I think...swapped out for a Japanese production of it! Like, it wasn't interpolated into a Japanese context, as far as I recall, it was Japanese actors being those ye olden English characters. I had to check that this wasn't a fever dream. Obviously not what I'm talking about but totally wish I'd seen it.
ANYTHING YOU CAN DO...
I wanted to touch on this publicly because of late I've had a fair few people talk to me about their frustrations and jealous reactions and, well, we never really want to properly express that out loud. Perhaps because it feels ungenerous. Perhaps it's too self-centering of another's work. Perhaps because jealousy is just quite a grubby reaction? We'll happily bring it up as a joke but that real, deep-delving chaos it creates is something that we think speaks poorly of us.
I think we need to let ourselves off the hook a bit here. Especially since so much jealousy comes from being in a precarious position. Ironically, it's when you have the least for others to be jealous of that your own jealousy is a bit tempered (unless you're a real dick) by the knowledge you've got much to learn and, with any luck, all the opportunities ahead of you still. Of course jealousy still exists, but the counter-weight of humility is strong.
Then, as you move through your career (sorry for using that word - replace it with whatever you like), you gain a bit of traction, a bit of self-belief, a bit of notice...perhaps you even make this thing you love your career. And oh boy, then are you f*cked. There are now so many more axes from which the jealousy can hit, the financial one being the most anxiety inducing since it runs so strongly alongside shame. How dare you indulge yourself so much to put you/your dependants lives in an unstable position! "How come I'm not doing as well as them? They're shit!"
If you hadn't clocked yet, that's quite a corrosive position for your soul to be in for too long. I caveat that with too long because as well as being entirely natural, that jealousy can be useful. My profound jealousy when I was first starting out really did spur me on to try and at least work harder. It's only a problem if, as I've said, it stays with you for too long, starts to override your enjoyment of work you'd otherwise love or starts to govern the way you value your own work. So how to combat each of those?
1) If jealousy is wrapping you up for too long, sit down with yourself and try to be really honest about the sources of the anxieties that are powering it. If it's money then consider whether doing something else part-time will take that out of the equation for you. I'm a big believer in de-stigmatising part-time work when it comes to participating in the arts. Of course, ideally, every arts job would be full-time and well-paid but for some even that wouldn't necessarily make you happy or what you want. Plenty of people - people who could easily do writing as a full-time gig - don't go for that and do better work without that pressure on them.
2) If you're going to, say, the theatre hoping that something will be terrible, you need to stop going for a bit. It won't make you happy and you'll be a bad audience member. I think it's honestly better to skip a friend's show if you're in that mood than to put yourself in that space. If they're a good friend, they'll understand that.
3) Push to keep your head in your own metrics. It doesn't matter if someone got a 6 week tour, or a big thriller away if neither of those things are what you are looking towards. It's so easy to let yourself get diverted for the sake of chasing status that you don't really want.
Someone smashing your own metrics is obviously pretty tough. Try and cultivate feeling happy for them in the first instance. That doesn't mean negating your jealousy. It just means finding the positives in the successes of others. Perhaps it means there's more demand for your kind of writing and proves the case for it. Perhaps you can just be a fan and that brings its own joy. If your mind is consistently tied to 'beating' people you'll never truly enjoy this thing you loved enough to throw your life at. It's easy to be a fan when you're starting out, harder as you go on. But it's worth working on.
This is a little rushed but I'll write up a fuller blog on this post-zatelograms.
KITTY KORNER
A quiet time on this front, though I'm still glad to be back with them for the foreseeable. Chill Cat has become supremely vocal about keeping him company. I can't tell if this is a sign of his old age, a sign that he is in pain or alternatively a sign that, perhaps now he's had his troublesome teeth out, he's much more personable. Either way, he near constantly chirps at you to come sit with him on the sofa and gets annoyed if you don't do it. Luckily for him, plenty of people are happy to indulge him.
Pretty Cat meanwhile I think is delving deep into some of his own psychodramas. Sometimes he's comfortable and seems safe. Mostly though, the look in his eyes suggest he's constantly experiencing a Vietnam flashback. If life is that intense for him when he's awake, I don't dare to wonder what his dreams are like...
Vin x
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