Process: The slow reveal

Lost Lake

Waterton National Park, Alberta, CA

 

Two people with strong theatre roots whose work I admire — Brigitte Haentjens and Mike Leigh — have similar things to say about their work process.

Haentjens, who recently started her term as the Artistic Director for the National Arts Centre was also the director of the Théâtre du Nouvel-Ontario from 1982 to 1990. In an article by Jean Saint-Hilaire, she credits that time as being a revelatory period. It was in Sudbury where she first became convinced that what she really needed to do in life was to create.

“Je me fous de gagner moins, de ne pas faire partie des notables, je préfère avoir du pouvoir sur ce que je veux faire, je suis jalouse de ma liberté.” (1)

In 2002, she was putting up one or two yearly shows, though her ideal is to concentrate her efforts on only one show a year. She worried about the increasing rhythm of the trade, especially in Montreal:

“On est pris dans un engrenage affolant, avec, dans les théâtres publics, un financement comme en ont les théâtres privés en Europe. Parce qu’il faut faire vite, on impose souvent une lecture et une scénographie surdéterminantes aux œuvres. En tout cas, moi, j’ai besoin de réflexion et de rêverie. Il faut du temps pour laisser venir les choses.” (1)

The creative process, for Brigitte Haentjens, demands reflection and a state of reverie. She needs the time to let things filter to the surface.

Mike Leigh’s own working method also necessitates long periods of time as his cast member habitually enter into lengthy rehearsal sessions without a script. It is through their group improvisations that a collective script emerges. Melora Koepke writes of Leigh’s latest film, Another Year:

Leigh bristles when asked about his “process,” the well-known working method in which he and his actors workshop and rehearse a collective script for six months or more. “We can talk endlessly about how and why it is that I work the way I do, and even if I did want to reveal or discuss this, which I don’t, the conversation would be pointless,” says Leigh. “The point isn’t how and why I work the way I do; the point is what the films are about.”

Indeed, Leigh makes films that examine human nature in the slow reveal. Because the themes are born from the actors’ ideas of what they wish to explore and the structure imposed at the 11th hour by Leigh, the story is given the freedom to emerge on its own terms – and that, for sure, is a rarity. (2)

As Koepke phrased it so aptly, he examines “human nature in the slow reveal”: he needs the time to allow things to surface before imposing a framework.

I followed a similar process with my Master’s thesis: the subject slowly and painstakingly emerged through months of reading, taking notes, and reflection. With a general idea and a loose structure, it was sometimes a painful process; it was difficult to retain focus and not venture off track. I was in exploratory mode for most of the writing process, a vulnerable position as I was not always sure of where I was going. I’d even say that within an academic setting, it was a humiliating at times to subject my seemingly flighty work process (influenced by my art practice) to a more rigid framework. I came across as tentative and all over the place. Yet I felt the risk was worthwhile. If I were to follow a set plan, I may not have discovered what I did; may not have ventured down certain paths. I was used to working by instinct. Though I was satisfied with the exploration, the final product was, as my thesis director justly described it, too “baroque”. It was admittedly an imperfect piece and required more editing. Still, notwithstanding the kludgy-ness, the awkwardness of the whole, there are sections that I am very proud of. I learned a lot through the process.

At the time I could not consciously explain what didn’t work about my work process in that particular setting. I just felt out of sorts. It’s only now, after working on the Tongue Rug project that I recognize that the same working process could be successful by simply changing the framework. The academic setting demands a certain style of working while artistic creation is more lenient. Working in new media can warrant a tentative, loose working style, where ideas are allowed to coagulate with time; especially now that online applications tend to separate content from form, like Content Management Systems or blogs.

The core subject matter of my Master’s thesis was mutability and I (instinctively) adopted a work process to match it. With the Tongue Rug project, I also chose to work in a modular way — loose with interconnecting parts. It was easier to play with different interfaces throughout its development because the content and the form were separate. The subject matter developed organically and the structure became concrete through time and process. It was an adaptive, mutable interface.

Time is a major component in my project. It’s not something I could rush and hurry along. During the fieldwork aspect, I needed time to cycle to the waypoints for documentation purposes. In terms of the web component, I needed time to explore online possibilities for the interface, especially because between the start and the end of the project, the Web 2.0 world exploded. Information and social networks like Facebook and YouTube have become major players along with blogging and microblogging (Twitter).

As I used collage and assemblage in my visual art practice, it was easy to transfer this adaptive way of working into new media creation. The found object still triggers off new offshoots, be it bric-à-brac or an interesting piece of code.

Getting lost — both in physical and online territories — has proven to be rewarding.

 

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1 Jean Saint-Hilaire, “Un penchant pour les rebelles : Brigitte Haentjens monte Antigone au Trident”, Le Soleil, January 12, 2002

2 Melora Koepke, “Couples retreat”, Hour, January 6, 2011