Showing posts with label Machine Dazzle. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Machine Dazzle. Show all posts

03 November 2017

Links to the Taylor Mac reviews

MELBOURNE FESTIVAL 2017
A 24-Decade History of Popular Music

Taylor Mac, Pomegranate Arts and Nature's Darlings
Forum Theatre
www.festival.melbourne

Taylor Mac. Photo by Sarah Walker

It's been two weeks and we're still talking about Taylor Mac's A 24-Decade History of Popular Music.

A friend said it was like the week after Christmas when you're a child: a week where you're drifting and not sure what to do because the best day is over.

Taylor Mac in Melbourne. Photo by Sarah Walker

More reviews have been published and, if reviewers talking to each other on Facebook is anything to go by, we're still in the post-show haze of tears, glitter and determination to make that world we lived in for 24 hours, the world that we live in.

Machine Dazzle & Taylor Mac. Photo by Sarah Walker

I keep remembering bits I'd forgotten – the Alphabet song with a determined "zed", singing "Love will tear us apart", an audience member talking about the club Connections in Perth – and wondering how 24 hours of work could be so consistently astonishing.

Taylor Mac. Photo by Sarah Walker

Our go-to critic adjectives feel inadequate; they can't describe the complexity and what it's like to have your heart and brain squeezed in the ways you've dreamed of.

It was like falling in love – that warm swirl of adrenalin, hope and confidence that lets you know that you're flippin' awesome – without any of the fear and doubt.

Photo by Sarah Walker

And those smiles. Hundreds of people smiling the smile that's usually reserved for "I've been fucked so well that you couldn't wipe the smile off my face if I were run over by a bus right now."

Photo by Sarah Walker

Smiles from people who have all felt like the freak in the room. Smiles from people who have hidden who they are because it's easier or safer.

I was slow dancing with a stranger at The Wrap closing party and had to stop (only for a moment) and say "look around this room".

Tigger & Taylor Mac. Photo by Sarah Walker

Here are the media reactions. If I've missed some, message me and I'll link them in. (And any excuse for some more of Sarah Walker's photos and Machine Dazzle's costumes.)

Rose Johnson in Time Out.

Maxim Boon in The Music.

Cameron Woodhead in The Age.

Taylor Mac. Photo by Sarah Walker
Steph Harmon in Guardian.

Chris Boyd in The Australian.

Richard Watts in Arts Hub.

Bradley Storer in Theatre Press. 

Sarah Walker (who took the amazing photos) on her blog.

Me, here. I, II, III, IV.

Machine Dazzle & Taylor Mac. Photo by Sarah Walker

Chapters and The Inauguration

Melbourne Critique


Chapter 1: Opera Chaser (and Herald Sun)

Chapter III: Herald Sun

Australian Stage

Limelight

The Conversation

Matt Ray & Taylor Mac. Photo by Sarah Walker

And I have a new batch of #QueerGrannySquares ready for anyone who wants one.

24 October 2017

MELBOURNE FESTIVAL: Taylor Mac, Chapter IV & Manifesting Pussy

MELBOURNE FESTIVAL 2017
A 24-Decade History of Popular Music, Chapter IV: 1957–present

Taylor Mac, Pomegranate Arts and Nature's Darlings
13 October 2017
Forum Theatre
www.festival.melbourne

Taylor Mac. Photo by Sarah Walker

Is it really time to wash off the Taylor Mac glitter and go back to real life?

Every so often a work changes how we see and make theatre. We are now post–A 24-Decade History of Popular Music and we're going to see its influence on our stages for a very long time.

Every so often a work changes how we see our world and we're going to see its influence in our lives for a very long time.

Taylor Mac, Steffanie Christi'an Mosley. Photo by Sarah Walker

Taylor describes the 24-hour experience as a "radical faerie realness ritual sacrifice" and adds that the audience is the sacrifice. Back in Chapter I, we had no idea of how much of ourselves we were going to willingly sacrifice or how much we had to let go of.

James Tigger! Ferguson. Photo by Sarah Walker

I'm still struggling to find the words that come close to describing the joy and absolute fucking happiness that this work has created. And the uncontrollable tears – that start again as soon as I try to explain and understand why I'm still crying.

When the Forum fire curtain lifted, we were heading to the 1960s – the decade many of us were born. Taylor descended from the gods reprising his rock "Turn! Turn! Turn!" (Matt Ray's musical arrangements deserve their own multi-page review). Looking Jacqui Kennedy–esque with polka dots, soup cans and a USA-flag dress (Machine Dazzle's costume designs also deserve pages), judy was harnessed to matching polka-dot pop-art angel wings, which Machine had made the day before. With finger guns and "BANG", they were a tribute to the Art Deco angel on the fire curtain and a response to gun control – something the political right got right in Australia.


Taylor Mac. Photo by Sarah Walker

And it was time for us white people to flee back to the suburbs at the sides of the room and embarrassingly express our white guilt to the point that we finally dump it and start understanding and sharing our fucking power.

I knew Chapter IV was going to be something else, but I had no idea.

Chanon Judson, James Welsby. Photo by Sarah Walker

I started crying at Bob Dylan's "A Hard Rain's A-Gonna Fall". I think this was before Nina Simone's "Mississippi  Goddam", when I knew I needed to get to the bar and fill up my water bottle and marvel at the waterproof blue mascara I bought in Tokyo and never thought I'd wear.


Taylor Mac, Viva DeConcini. Photo by Sarah Walker

As I wasn't on a media ticket, I didn't take notes, I turned off my devices and drank gin – leaving Chapter IV a magnificent blur of tears, rock, glitter and joy. (But please read Cameron in The Age and Steph in the Guardian.)

There was Daniel and I squealing at "show tops".

There was the Cold War giant inflatable USA and USSR cocks floating around the audience.

Photo by Sarah Walker

There was slow dancing with Katie at the queer prom to destroy the credibility of a homophobic singer.

Taylor Mac. Photo by Sarah Walker

There was hugging Richard during "Purple Rain" – and only now remembering that it was a section about back room sex parties. But it was the late1980s: a time when friends were dying from AIDS. Taylor was wearing a head piece of skulls screaming in clouds and a coat made of cassette tapes, we'd already sung "Oh Superman", and I didn't know if I wasn't coping or if it was the most powerful hour of my life.

And I  couldn't imagine how my heart was going to melt as we made our way to the present with a manifestation of pussy.

Taylor Mac. Photo by Sarah Walker

Bitch and Animal's "Pussy Manifesto" (look it up; I want it in search engines rather than an easy click) – "Let Pussy manifest and let freedom sing!".

The Womb. Photo by Sarah Walker

Lesbians moved only onto the stage, with beers and a barbeque. Lesbians were front and centre. Without jokes, without question. Women were celebrated. Pussy (I'm even saying "pussy" and I was such a "cunt" reclaimer) was celebrated. For a couple of hours, pussy was central to our world.

Stop reading and try to replace every reference to cock and male power in your world with pussy. Now take away every bit of language that uses women, pussy and cunt as an insult and a reference to weakness. For the last hours of this show, that world existed.

 Taylor Mac. Photo by Sarah Walker

(I nearly didn't wear my #pussyhat when we were making things in Chapter 1, but the company manager said "Yes" when I suggested it. I'll also be saying "Yes!" a lot more from now on.)

 Machine Dazzle, Taylor Mac, Matt Ray. Photo by Sarah Walker

For 24 hours, we'd been part of seeing how communities are built from marginalised, ignored and shamed people being torn apart. We'd been sacrificed, we sacrificed others and everyone who was there became a community where otherness didn't exist.

At the company's In Conversation on Saturday, Taylor said, "Manifest the world that we want by creating the world we want."

We were so involved and so safe that I want to see it all again tomorrow, even if just to see the contributions of the 32 people who came with the company and every other artist who is a part of this experience (their names are in the program). But I suspect I'd be just as involved.

Photo by Sarah Walker

For the last hour Taylor wore a dress made from a giant vulva and sang his own work. The band were gone – one left every hour for the last 24 hours. We sang along and I have never cried so much in a thearte.

I washed most of the glitter off – the glitter I put on in the Forum bathrooms with other women who also hadn't worn glitter since we were in our 20s – and am back in day-to-day life, with a pile of work waiting for me.

Photo by Sarah Walker

What's left to say when I experienced the theatre experience I've been waiting my life for?

But perhaps life is going to be different. I'm still going to roll my eyes at dull theatre, but I'm going to:
  • Spend less time alone. Maybe with the new friends I made at this show.
  • Talk more with people I don't know.
  • Dance in public.
  • Wear all the high heels I have in my cupboard.
  • Wear more blue mascara.
  • Sing "Purple Rain". 
 Machine Dazzle, Matt Ray. Photo by Sarah Walker


PS. Can we have a 24-hour long recording, please?

18 October 2017

MELBOURNE FESTIVAL: Taylor Mac, Chapter II & the G word

MELBOURNE FESTIVAL
A 24-Decade History of Popular Music, Chapter II: 1836–1886

Taylor Mac, Pomegranate Arts and Nature's Darlings
13 October 2017
Forum Theatre
www.festival.melbourne

Taylor Mac. Hour 7. Photo by Sarah Walker

Taylor Mac's A 24-Decade History of Popular Music Chapter II  included re-enacting the American Civil War, taking the racism out of The Mikado by setting it on Mars, moving all the chairs in the Forum, singing with helium and making even more new best friends. And ping-pong balls; has anyone talked about the ping-pong balls that Melbourne is loving in our own freaky way?

Taylor Mac. Hour 8. Photo by Sarah Walker

Sarah Walker's photos can tell story of Chapter II. She captures the why we're so in love with this show. Look at those smiles!

Hour 11. The balloons were worth catching

But back to Chapter 1. Something happened off stage, while Taylor was flying in a harness: the announcement of the McArthur Foundation Grants, which are incorrectly known as the 'genius' grants. Taylor got one. (As did with playwright Annie Baker, who wrote John that was at the MTC earlier this year.)

Taylor Mac. Hour 9. Photo by Sarah Walker

I first saw Taylor in 2008 in The Be(a)st of Taylor Mac. He had a ukelele, a suitcase full of op-shop drag and a lot of sequins and glitter. He performed to an intimate group at the Famous Spiegeltent next to Arts Centre Melbourne before going to the Feast festival in Adelaide. (Feast was directed by Dan Clarke, who is now working at Arts Centre Melbourne.)

Taylor Mac & Machine Dazzle. Hour 12. Photo by Sarah Walker

I've been a fan ever since, and may have squealed when I found out that the 24-hour show was coming to Melbourne. Judy (Taylor's preferred pronoun; it really is easy to understand) shared work that started from the personal, ignored aesthetic and acceptable ideas of how to story, and connected with people who may never have thought they would connect with the radical idea of being your authentic self and seeing the world through a different gaze.

Many artists affirm how I see myself and my community. That night with Taylor changed how I saw myself in my community.

I left knowing that drag was could be exciting, embracing and subversive in ways that said 'fuck off' to all ridiculous assumptions of masculinity or femininity. And that it didn't have to insult women.


Taylor Mac, Dandy Minions (including Mama Also in the green wig) & audience (including Richard Watts, Tom Halls & Simone French). Hour 10

And I stopped resisting the Q word. My first memories of "queer" was it being re-appropriated as an insult. Re-re-appropriating queer as positive and inclusive has been bloody marvelous.

Mama Alto – one of Melbourne's Dandy Minions: the magnificent locals helping to make the 24-hour show – explains queer and queering rather wonderfully in this piece in The Music. (Or read it in this issue, which includes some very groovy writers.)

The Civil War. Photo by Sarah Walker

Taylor's next trip to Melbourne was The Ziggy Stardust Meets Tiny Tim Songbook or Comparison is Violence. I left knowing that glitter belongs on every face that wants it and my reviews began looking for more positive than negative.

I'm not surprised that the G word is being thrown around.

But the word also dismisses the work it takes to create works of genius.

Jackie Smith & Moira Finucaine. Photo by Sarah Walker

Maybe being open to those ideas that are usually rejected, finding the people who you want to create with – let's not forget that a team of glorious people are part of the 24-hour show –, and ignoring the NO voices* is always an amazing place to start.


Dan Giovannoni as Yum Yum in The Mikado. Photo by Sarah Walker


* including critics; good writers are not always right.

Also:

Taylor Mac In Conversation on Saturday at 2.30.
www.festival.melbourne

The Wrap: closing night party on Sunday.
www.festival.melbourne

Circus Oz Strong Women. Photo by Sarah Walker

Chanon Judson. Photo by Sarah Walker

Musical Director Matt Ray, who is also on stage for 24 hours. Photo by Sarah Walker

17 October 2017

MELBOURNE FESTIVAL: Taylor Mac, Chapter I & #QueerGrannySquares

MELBOURNE FESTIVAL 2017
A 24-Decade History of Popular Music, Chapter 1: 1776–1836

Taylor Mac, Pomegranate Arts and Nature's Darlings
11 October 2017
Forum Theatre
www.festival.melbourne

#QueerGrannySquares

Taylor Mac. Hour 1. Photo by Sarah Walker

With a Milky Way of critical stars and superlative quotables, review voices can do little more than add to the glorious noise and love that leaves little room for objectivity when describing Taylor Mac's A 24-Decade History of Popular Music.

One song per year for 240 years over 24 hours. It was performed once over 24 hours last year in New York, but Melbourne gets four shows of six hours. This gives us over a week of being thrilled to count the sleeps until the next show.  

If it somehow hasn't been made clear, by everyone who was at parts I and II, missing parts III and/or IV isn't worth the regret.

One of the many joys I've experienced, so far, was sitting on the stage as one of six people – with Zeb, Dierdre, Daniel, Phil and Julia – who "made things" in respect to the first 30 years of music, that started in 1776. I made #QueerGrannySquares.



About a month ago I crocheted my first #QueerGrannySquare. It was the same week that the not-binding not-votes of survey disgrace started arriving in our letter boxes. I've filled in many government forms and never been so disgusted by one. I still can't get it into my head that our government is so cowardly that they have to ask if we are equal.

Counting down to hour one. I know where I am on the stage.  Photo by Sarah Walker

Reading Facebook on the train one afternoon, I didn't know what to do. I'd seen the "protect my children from the nasty queers" ads, I'd seen the posters that equate having sex with wearing a seat belt – they really aren't doing it right – and I'd been handed pamphlets by Christians who insult every thing that religion and faith stand for; these just made me swear. But this afternoon I saw so many posts from people who were breaking; mostly people who I never thought would break. And if confident, happy and loved people are hurting this much, the damage this vile survey is doing is going to be deep.

I can't stop ignorance, fear and hate, but I can sit on my couch and make rainbows.

Taylor Mac and costume designer Machine Dazzle. Hour 2. Photo by Sarah Walker.

I was inspired by Sayraphim Lothian's live art project A Moment in Yarn. She asked me to tell a happy story and made me a granny square that tells the story of a cat called Flue moving in with me.

The square still sits with Flue's ashes and it still makes me cry; a handmade object can hold a story and a memory so powerfully.

Some of the Dandy Minions. Photo by Sarah Walker

It took me three more years to learn how to crochet (at classie.com.au). I was also inspired by the #PussyHat movement and knitted (I could knit) my first #pussyhat in January on the day of the Women's March in Washington against he whose name I don't need to write. I spent the next couple of months making them for anyone who asked. The cost was do something nice for someone else.



I bought most of the yarn from op shops (charity shops) – every ball had already been used to make someone else's story and the money was going somewhere positive – and some of my favourite moments of this year have been seeing photos of friends and their daughters (and one cat; it was a one off) wearing their hats. Making these hats even rekindled a friendship with someone I knew in kindergarten.

It also connected me with other craftivism projects and it inspired some new #pussyhat knitters. One of them was Daniel.

Daniel didn't tell me that he'd also been chosen to make stuff with Taylor until we both turned up at the theatre with our bags of yarn!

Pre-show on-stage selfie by Daniel Kilby. We were a bit excited.

A few minutes into the show, I whispered to Daniel, "I think I've found my happy place". As an extroverted introvert, there isn't anything much better than being in the best seat, being irrelevant enough to blend in, being surrounded by cool people (the band), only having to interact with one person (a friend) and being able to do something that doesn't involve interacting.

But what was even more amazing was watching the audience. I've been to hundreds –  and hundreds – of shows and I have never seen or felt an audience who were this happy.

And that includes the National Theater of Oklahoma Life and Times: Episodes 1–4  that was so glorious that the friend and I who went together decided that we can't see shows together because it will never be that good again. Bryce, you need to come to Taylor.

Richard Watts being comforted by a stranger. Photo by Sarah Walker

It was more than happy.

Sparklie makes me happy.

Subversion makes me happy.

Deconstructing the heteronormative musical narrative wearing a blindfold makes me happy.

We kept them on for an hour. Photo by Sarah Walker

But Taylor Mac, and everyone his USA company and the Australians who have joined them in Melbourne, have created a space without shame.


Stephen Russell telling his story. Photo by Sarah Walker.

We're dealing with an active campaign that's about creating shame, especially queer shame. It's trying to create shame for being who you are, who you fuck and who you love. It's about making children ashamed before that know who they are. It's about families being shamed for being families. It's disgraceful.

This year, the gorgeous Hannah Gadsby has been talking about the damage done by kind of shame in her show Nanette. It's the best piece of stand up I've seen; it broke me. It's also had all the critical stars and won a pile of awards, but I recommend going to Twitter and reading the responses to its Australian and UK seasons to understand how this piece of theatre is changing lives. There might still be some tickets left for her Hamer Hall shows at the Arts Centre in December. This is the other show that missing isn't worth the regret.

Taylor Mac et al have created a world where this kind of shame doesn't exist.

Taylor Mac. Hour 3. Photo by Sarah Walker.

And even if we're only in that world for a few hours, we're taking its acceptance, love and outrageous kink out of the theatre, into our hearts and our lives. We may not be able to stop ignorance, fear and hate, but we can do everything we can to drown out the shame with as many rainbows as it takes.

Taylor Mac Hour 4. Photo by Sarah Walker

PS. Seeing friends and strangers – on and off the stage – with the squares has also made me so fucking happy that I've cried.

PPS. I have a pile of new mini ones for Wednesday night. If you want one, please just ask.