Great arts with everyone

At the recent State of the Arts conference many suggested that Arts Council England might want to consider its mission to be ‘Great Arts With Everyone’ rather than ‘For’ everyone. But if this is the future, then London Bubble and loads of other organisations and artists have been living in it for quite a long time.

‘Blackbirds’ was London Bubble’s most sustained and well-resourced foray into intergenerational work thus far. It was built from interviews led by children with elders who, as youngsters themselves, had experienced the aerial bombing of the area we work in. These interviews grew into workshops, which were transformed into a script by Simon Startin and developed into a highly polished show. I stress highly polished because, to be honest, we often find these projects do not aspire to the complexity and finish of our professional work – taking recourse, or hiding behind, a process-driven agenda.

But in this case we went for it. This was partly due to the fact we have a tradition of developing quite experimental intergenerational projects that have gathered an informed and confident community of young and adult performers who now expect to be pushed; but partly because we wanted to deploy all our theatre-making skills to explore the trauma that occurred in and on the streets surrounding London Bubble’s HQ. As with many pieces of theatre filed under ‘community’, while Blackbirds attracted and challenged a large and diverse audience, it did not appear on the wider critical radar. A critic did come and while he did not review the piece, he did comment by email: “It really opened my eyes to the strange beauty of community theatre.”

‘A Strange Beauty’ became the title of the first session of the ‘Ages and Stage’ conference, on Intergenerational Performance, which was programmed to coincide with the last performance of Blackbirds. We were proud of Blackbirds and we wanted to share our pride with others who understand how enjoyable it is to work inter-generationally. In that first session, choreographer Rosemary Lee spoke of the aesthetic choice she makes to work, not with the exceptionally lithe and athletic, but with those, who when they appear on stage “could be you”. This theme of empathy and physicality ran through the day.

For me a conference sees the herd gathering round the watering hole. It’s not just about chewing the cud, it’s also about coming together and considering the health of the herd – and yourself as a herd member. But at almost all gatherings there is an absence – the audience, the majority, the tax-payers. Ages and Stages addressed this: while we used the old-fashioned form of panel discussions, the very subject in question made it essential to include children and other participants on those panels. This changed the tone and content of the conversation completely. Funding was hardly mentioned. People talked honestly about why they made theatre, why they participated and with eloquence and honesty about what they got out of it. The conversation swung from the profound to the prosaic: “It makes me feel alive,” responded a 12-year-old panel member to being asked why she does it. “It was drama or badminton: drama happened on the right night,” reflected an adult participant when asked why he had signed up. Artists talked about their differing techniques, and commentators spoke about how we might document and critique work that carries the appendage ‘community’. We spoke of physical and emotional health, of the importance of touch, of taking time about making life (and death) meaningful and of the pleasure of working with people of a different age.

The form of the day mirrored the subject, which has to deploy an inclusivity and clarity of language that benefits everyone. And as a result I didn’t get that nagging feeling that someone important hadn’t made it to the watering hole and the secondary realisation that no-one remembered to invite the audience. The herd felt very different, certainly stronger, and the debate was less about the product and more about what people gained from the process of making and sharing the product. Which leads me to my last point. For artists to persuade people that art has a place in public life and thus deserves public funding, perhaps we practitioners should talk about what the act of making makes us feel – how it is hugely enjoyable, life affirming and connecting. I think this might be a more attractive conversation than the one that starts with us telling people why art as an abstract phenomena, is so important.