Inside the mind of a writer www.scskillman.co.uk

Posts tagged ‘imagination’

Amateur Actors, No Rehearsal, Disorganised Direction, Disappearing Props – A Dream for Shakespeare

This weekend I joined a cast in a drama – at St Mark’s Church in Leamington Spa – which I think Shakespeare would have loved. Why? because we were rather like the little band of local workmen in that Athenian wood in A Midsummer Night’s Dream.

But we were not playing “Pyramus and Thisbe”. Instead, without rehearsal, and with hastily gathered together props, we were ambitiously – and creatively – portraying the entire story of Joseph, (but not with Lloyd Webber music and lyrics).Shakespeare's 'Rude Mechanicals' in A Midsummer Night's Dream

I must admit I’d been wondering how I’d pan out as the Butler/Servant, with my son Jamie as the older Joseph. I was a little concerned beforehand about the large number of props, and the extent to which I’d need to rely on several other actors simultaneously doing the right thing – not to mention a question about whether there was going to be any kind of stage management  i.e. people in charge of making sure microphones and props were in the right hands at the right times.

And it was more fun and more memorable than a slick performance by professionals would have been.

It occurred to me Shakespeare would have loved it. Even his Rude Mechanicals in A Midsummer Night’s Dream couldn’t have bettered  our organised chaos.

For anything that could possibly go wrong in such a set-up, did.

The two narrators doubled up as stage manager and director.

Some of the performers behaved as if they’d only been cast that morning and had never seen the script before.

I was convinced others were working to different scripts than the one I had, and I wondered whether it had been revised since I was given my copy.

The narrators forgot some of their lines thus depriving actors of cues they’d been relying on.

The one hand-held mic was being passed frantically from actor to actor.

A prop (whistle) was given to me as the Servant/Butler, which I was to blow every time Joseph gave the instruction for someone to be arrested or released from jail, to alert the jailer. But then the director whipped it away unexpectedly from me and gave it to Potiphar – who didn’t even know he had to use it and spoke his lines without using it. The director intervened and grabbed the whistle and gave it to him.  Having used it, Potiphar then put it down somewhere where I, the Servant, couldn’t see it. So in the end I was unable to use it. And since my whistle had disappeared, Joseph’s brother Simeon was never let out of jail.

The actor who played the aforesaid jailer wore shorts and a helmet which was too small for him and he looked like an English policeman on holiday in Egypt.

The whole drama was like a test case for what happens when a troop of unrehearsed amateur actors get together  – exactly as Shakespeare envisaged it with his Rude Mechanicals, with Wall and Moonshine and the chink and Bottom deciding he was going to get up after his character had died and tell the audience it was all right, he was alive really.

And all this fired up my imagination as I thought how it was going to feed into my new novel  – my follow-up to A Passionate Spirit – which features a cast of actors filming A Midsummer Night’s Dream in some south east London woods….

 

 

For Love of the Sea and the East Sussex Coastline

Living in the Midlands, one of the things I most miss is being near the sea. Brought up in Kent, as a child I often went on family trips to Rye and Camber Sands in east Sussex.

To experience the beauty and vastness of the sea is  a magical thing in childhood. I have continued to love the sea all my life.

child on beach at Birling Gap 16 Feb 2016

This half term has been a wonderful opportunity to go to the sea! And I went to east Sussex again – Eastbourne, and the National Trust coastline at Birling Gap.

And I couldn’t resist taking photos – especially of one of my own personal images of paradise, an image that has the power to haunt your dreams and inspire the imagination – a silver sea, radiant in sunlight.

 

 

Rain Soaked Odyssey of Delight Round Highgrove Garden


Drenching rains accompanied our tour round HRH the Prince of Wales’ intriguing garden at Highgrove but with so much to wonder at, we all kept going and completed the tour.

Highgrove Garden made me think of the plot of a children’s book, quirky, fun, playful. At every turn there is a new surprise, like something dreamed up by Lewis Carroll or Edward Lear. It was an odyssey through a quirky and unpredictable environment.

Vistas and views and angles, abundant ferns and eccentric topiary, temples, thatched tree house and giant slate pots abounded.

The downpour intensified as we went round, yet everyone was so entranced by the garden, it remained a minor issue – even when we waded through deep puddles on the unmade paths.

Moving through the garden is like progressing from one chapter to another in a beguiling story. If fairies inhabited this garden they would be the wild, anarchic spirits Shakespeare portrays in A Midsummer Night’s Dream. I particularly loved the juxtaposition of wilderness and artistry.  HRH The Prince of Wales has invited artists and sculptors to run wild with their imagination; everywhere you may see the evidence of free expression and creativity.

In summary, this is a unique and profoundly inspiring garden.

A Gift to the Future – One Man’s Vision to Create Hidcote Manor Garden

I love Hidcote Manor Garden, near Chipping Campden in Gloucestershire. It’s one of the National Trust’s greatest gardens and was created by an American horticulturalist Lawrence Johnston, between 1907 and 1947.

The Beech Allee at Hidcote Manor Garden image 1 (photo credit SC Skillman)

The Beech Allee at Hidcote Manor Garden image 1 (photo credit SC Skillman)

 

One very special element in the garden is the Beech Allee – an avenue of majestic beeches.

Lawrence Johnston planted it knowing he’d never see the mature avenue – it was a gift to the future.

 

 

 

The Beech Allee at Hidcote Manor Garden - image 2 (photo credit SC Skillman)

The Beech Allee at Hidcote Manor Garden – image 2 (photo credit SC Skillman)

For me, it’s very moving to walk along this avenue reflecting upon how much we owe to one man’s vision and imagination.

 

What an encouragement this is to any creative person, who imagines things and works to bring them into reality, perhaps without ever being able to experience the final outcome, or to know how their creation may be received.

view from the end of the Beech Allee onto the Great Lawn at Hidcote Manor Garden (photo credit SC Skillman)

view from the end of the Beech Allee onto the Great Lawn at Hidcote Manor Garden (photo credit SC Skillman)

Why I Believe Mankind Can Never ‘Own’ the Moon

Nobody Owns the Moon.

a romantic image of the moon - a perpetual source of inspiration for artists and poets

a romantic image of the moon – a perpetual source of inspiration for artists and poets

On Friday morning January 10th 2014 I heard Mishal Husain interview Ian Crawford and Nicola Triscott on this topic on the BBC Radio 4 Today programme.

Nicola Triscott has mounted an exhibition on London’s South Bank called Republic of the Moon. She has transformed The Bargehouse at Oxo Tower Wharf into  ‘an artist’s lunar embassy on earth’.

During the interview we heard a quote from Article 1 of the 1967 Outer Space Treaty: “the moon is the province of all mankind”. Apparently Article 2 prohibits nation states from appropriating the moon.

But now there is some concern that that treaty should be updated, and private corporations should also be added to the provision.

In 1967 it was never thought that any private corporation would be in the position of being able to exploit the resources on the moon.

When in the history of the human race have such words on treaties and constitutions and charters of human rights ever been respected in reality?

Colonial invaders have always operated on the principle of Finders Keepers. First here exploits it all.

Such was the case with Captain Cook, Don Cortez and many such.

An exhibit on The History of Human Conflict at the Firepower Museum, Royal Arsenal Thames Riverside, Woolwich, (a brilliant museum which I recommend to all), tells us that human conflict began when men turned from hunter gatherers to farmers. Mankind began to fight over the limited resources of land suitable for cultivation. The source of all human conflict is: limited resources.

God grant there are no resources on the moon that can ever be of any economic value to mankind.

For man is greedy. I generally do not have an optimistic view of human nature. And neither does JRR Tolkien. His own view was expressed through the words of the Lady Galadriel in The Lord of the Rings: the race of men…. above all else desire power… the hearts of men are easily corrupted and the Ring of Power has a will of its own.

For exploitable resources, read the Ring of Power. If there are valuable resources on the moon, I believe that mankind WILL fight over them, and private corporations and nation states WILL exploit them to gain and increase their power.

Let the moon continue to be the sole province of poets and mystics; of those who gave us glimpses of eternity, of creative writers, and those who dream, and those who deal in mystery and imagination. And let the only lunar resources we draw upon be those of inspiration.

Lovely Lake District in Autumn 2013

We spent a few days in England’s lovely Lake District during the recent autumn half term.

Ashness Bridge, near Derwentwater (photo credit Abigail Robinson)

Ashness Bridge, near Derwentwater (photo credit Abigail Robinson)

The Lake District is special to me, not only because of its association with numerous famous writers, with Beatrix Potter, John Ruskin, William Wordsworth; but also because of memories from childhood holidays there, and the fact that I regularly visited it during the time I spent as an undergraduate at Lancaster University (approximately 40 minutes drive from Windermere).

As a member of the university hiking club, I became familiar with the Old Man of Coniston and Scafell Pike and I soon learned that hiking didn’t mean gentle  rambling, it meant something very akin to mountain-climbing except without the ropes and crampons, as we scrambled up and slid down steep slopes of scree!

cruise on Lake Windermere (photo credit Abigail Robinson)

cruise on Lake Windermere (photo credit Abigail Robinson)

Surprise View, Derwentwater (photo credit Abigail Robinson)

Surprise View, Derwentwater (photo credit Abigail Robinson)

Bowness-on-Windermere is distinctive for me, as I would go there with my parents when they came to visit me for the weekend. For me, it was a translation from the world of student accommodation to the Old England Hotel. I returned there on later occasions with friends, for afternoon tea on the terrace, overlooking Lake Windermere. The Old England Hotel has held a special place in my memory  ever since.

It is said that the Lake District has the highest rainfall in England. Those who go there must take mist, rain, muted colours, a moist  atmosphere, brooding clouds, along with everything else the Lake District has to offer; and be prepared to carry on regardless, wearing waterproofs. If you experience  the lakes and mountains in bright sunshine, count yourself blessed!

The Lake District is an inspirational place that speaks directly to the spirit.

Here are some more images from our recent visit:

Derwentwater from Keswick (photo credit Abigail Robinson)

Derwentwater from Keswick (photo credit Abigail Robinson)

Boats beside Derwentwater (photo credit Abigail Robinson)

Boats beside Derwentwater (photo credit Abigail Robinson)

What Do We Do About Art? There’s Always a Little Shop At The End

What do we do about art  when we wander around great art galleries and museums?

How I integrate art into my own life, on the wall of my writing space (photo credit Jamie Robinson)

How I integrate art into my own life, on the wall of my writing space (photo credit Jamie Robinson)

We see wonderful things on the walls and maybe we’re overwhelmed.

These great art works are distanced from us, somehow, by the awesome spaces and dimensions of the gallery.

We could never have these original art works on the walls of our own homes.

But they speak to us. There’s something in them we want to take away, something we want to claim for our own lives. Something that tells us about ourselves, our own hearts and souls.

So what do we do?

As David Tennant’s Doctor said to his  assistant Donna in the Doctor Who episode Silence in The Library, “Quick! The shop! There’s always a little shop at the end!”

On BBC Radio 4 Today programme at 8.20am on Wed 9 Oct 2013, two writers with new books out, Desmond Morris (author of The Artistic Ape and Alain de Botton (author of Art as Therapy) discussed art and how it affects our lives. And one of the things they said struck me: “If we did not have art in our lives, the world  would be very drab. We need it in our lives. But what do we do about art? We go to the gift shop, and we buy postcards. That way we can integrate the art into our daily lives.”

Desmond Morris made this point:

Art is not to be confined to museums but is part of something much bigger in life….. we do like to surround ourselves with objects that  make our lives less drab.

Alain de Botton said what he proposes is that  We treat the whole museum much more like the gift shop.

I now say that to my teenage son and daughter whenever we’re in an attraction. Ah-ha. The shop. There’s always a little shop at the end.

Why did  I find this striking? Because of what I do, at home, in my space where I write.

I cover the wall with brochures, leaflets, postcards from art exhibitions.  Bear in mind that the room needs redecorating, which is why I’ve stuck those images directly onto the wall!

No way can I afford to display original Rembrandt, David Hockney, Verneer on the walls of my home.

But I still integrate art into my life.

I have invited art into my writing space. Each of the images I’ve stuck onto the wall, is a window. A window into another world, another artist’s imagination, another dimension.

In this way, no matter how humble, I integrate something of the artist’s spirit into my own working space.

Without art life would be very drab indeed.

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