Creating Theatre

Over the years I have been struck by the methods used by stage managers in supporting the creative process.  Creativity is a sensitive process, full of vulnerability; unstable and volatile, while also intimate and friendly.  There is a strong sense of discipline about theatre and performance, but not in the regimented way one might associate with military discipline, for example.

Most models of management focus on strategic leadership qualities; less attention has been given to day-to-day problem solving, dealing with issues ‘in the moment’ – an area where stage managers excel, of course.  The pressure of the real-time flow of events that is the performance; combined with the interface with hyped and stressed performers, leaves little time for reflection.  The stage manager is only too sensitive to the volatility of the situation, and the need to persuade rather than command.

This isn’t new -  in fact, the character of the stage manager goes back a long way.  Alan Read, in Theatre and Everyday Life, (Routledge 1993) cites a journal from 1734 called  ‘The Prompter’ which describes someone who “though he seemed not to command yet all his instructions were punctually complied with, and in the modest character of an adviser had the whole management and direction of that little commonwealth”. The characteristics described – punctuality and modesty – are still the same one can observe today.

The sheepdog theory works on a number of levels. Primarily it describes an approach to problem solving.  Sheepdogs circle the flock (ie the problem) rather than barking at it, slowly moving the sheep in the required direction from behind.  They have to work hard in covering all that ground, making sure none has been left out.  Unlike the leadership model, where the emphasis is on ‘the shepherd’ setting the task, the reality is that the sheepdog uses a wide range of discretion in achieving the objective.  Even the casual observer will recognise the teamwork quality of the relationship, however much whistling and shouting is going on.  Skilled sheepdogs know what the task is, and hardly need telling, reading the signs almost before they have been made.  And it goes without saying that the sheepdog is totally loyal to both the shepherd and the flock, and will flog themselves to death to get the job done, coming back from the ravine with the lost sheep, dripping wet and exhausted.

Contemporary management, in a democratic setting which still demands decisiveness, seems to need more of the sheepdog style: the ‘modest character of the adviser’ rather than the imperiousness of the shepherd; creative artists require curating more than directing.

Recently I talked to Rebekah Davies, a student on the BA American Theatre Arts at Rose Bruford, about stage management. As part of her project, she very kindly transcribed the interview, which I’ve now put into the learning zone as “Thoughts on stage managing”.

Given that the name of the website refers to creativity, it’s about time there was something here about the processes of creating theatre. What’s set me off is that I’ve just been asked by my friend Gail Pallin to comment on her research paper about creativity and stage management. It has triggered an impulse to try to quantify my own thinking on these matters.

There a different issues here. Some are about the whole issue fo creativity in a cultural context; about value sets , about use value, and about power operations – whose culture, whose creating, and who is consuming the production of creation. We live in consumption-oriented society (so did the Victorians but not in the same sense) and there is a whole literature about the relationship of culture to meaning, cultural production and use.

The question here is about creating meaning however.. and how that gets managed – specifically, in a theatre performance or event context. A few thoughts, coming from Gail’s original book, from the paper, and from thoughts I’ve been having:

1 Creative process as recombination of existing things (“Standing on the shoulders of giants”).

2 Following on from this, the value of contextualised knowledge

3 The ability to recognise the value of unforeseen outcomes, to seize on them and capitalise on opportunity

4 Understanding the rights of the SM to engage in the creative process, and the responsibilities and duty of care that come with it.

5 Creating environments within which creative process can happen; including the social psychology of creative groups.

6 The application of imagination, both in conceptualising the outcome of the developing event, and in plotting missing or conflicting components.

7 Inventiveness in problem solving on all fronts

8 Understanding the visual, spatial, and dynamic aspects of live and recorded events, and being able to correlate the intellectual , emotional and spiritual impact of the performance on its audience.

9 The values of craft skill in refining and developing aspects of the event

10 Chaos and complexity models, comedy and surprising turns

These issues come to the fore in particular when working ina devising situation, whether as actor, director stage manager or designer. I’ll flesh this sketch out in the next few days.

References
Ken Robinson – address to TED conference www.ted.com
Pallin G, Miller Judd P Stage management and creativity www.stagemanagement.co.uk 2008

This post is being written in Blackpool, where I’m about to work with young people from the local FE college. From the hotel room I’ve a clear view of the Tower. Two days ago I was doing the same in Nottingham – from my room I could see the castle lit up, looking for all the world like the image on the old Players’ fag packet. The city of Raleigh bikes; of lace and the Huguenots; of DH Lawrence and coal miners. Tonight the pub quiz was about entertainment, with a few geography questions thrown in for good measure.

If you’d have asked the question in the fifties, those in the know would have said working class drama was about kitchen sink – Arnold Wesker; Saturday Night and Sunday Morning; The Knack. Scripts written by aspirational writers, maybe a product of grammar school class mobility, keen to establish an alternative reality; the form of the drama set by precedents going back to GB Shaw or Miss Horniman, and watched by similar. A skilled working class, proud of its craft tradition, resentful of its exploitation in factories and at least one of two world wars, that had taken part in creating nationalised medicine, transport and energy. Plays were asking where were we to go, in effect.

Then these achievements become normalised (or of taken for granted, but that mis-states it). Education allows these working class kids to join the middle classes, but with a folk memory of a different value set. And the world of work changes too – out go the smokestack jobs, whether it be mining, or boilermaking, or cement – many exported overseas. In come the new jobs like retail – 1/8 of the British economy is run by Tesco? Or finance – 1/3 of GDP is created in the Square Mile or thereabouts. Or Creative Industries.

So where is working class drama now? I’ve slightly set it up; because working class drama is probably where it’s always been, not where academia looks for it. It’s in the pantomime, that 90% of the public go to watch. In the variety shows, full of camp and feathers – Blackpool still going strong. In stand-up comedy in so many forms, including bingo callers and quiz league hosts (excepting of course the university school, though even there one can trace influence). In seaside carnival, and processions around the Illuminations. In Gospel choirs, rock concerts and in clubbing, in hiphop, trance and garage, and on occasions stadium rock, as camp as it comes.

This is a theatre of Everyday Life in the sense Alan Read describes. Its rituals are about call-response rather than rapt attention. Audiences participate, usually actively rather than the passive sense that is implied by Peter Brook, when he points out the use in French of the verb assister. It tends to Bakhtin’s sense of carnivalesque; of a world (pretended to be) turned upside down.

The textuality of the fifties (as elsewhere) isn’t as important, it’s a much more visual world now. And it isn’t about content – fun though Lock Stock and Two Smoking Barrels might be, it’s a rich kid’s pastiche of working class life. It’s more to do with structures, and often with visuals. Where it gets interesting is in the negotiations with young working class people about the culture. Exploring creative process, rather than playtext, so that it becomes about doing – about crafting rather than analysing (except on the sense of reflecting-in-action). So ….

Let’s see if Blackpool rocks!