The Yard was experiencing a power cut when I got there. I had travelled from the overground on my own but was happy to bump into a friend as I was nearing the enclosure. Hackney Wick could be seen as beautiful for some but the darkness, vibrant graffiti and bits of construction material left me a little disorientated and it was reassuring that if I got lost in that space I wouldn't be alone. The square of buildings that contained the Yard Theatre also contained a bar and perhaps some studio spaces. I recognised the area from a random evening stroll from the year before when my flatmates and I had found ourselves on a fancy bar/ canal boat that had friendly barmen and costly but sophisticated drinks. I remember asking, out of curiosity, if they had permission to keep the boat there indefinitely and they replied yes, that they had some kind of legal contract that allowed them to stay moored there. The canal boat seemed a bit of a strange combination since it was an extension of the very successful bar next door that loomed over the boat so much that you wouldn't even know there was a canal there unless you were going for a random wander. Similarly, the Yard Theatre seemed like a strange addition to this muddle of buildings. It was low down, pushed in a corner, the sign barely noticeable in the dark of the blackout. Once inside we were greeted with red warmth from heaters and the comfortable sight of wooden benches, structures and a bar that also served as the box office at one end. I noticed they were selling tapas and asked a bar-woman 'Since when have you been offering this?', she replied something like 'Since this Monday'. I work in a theatre that tries to fit the theme of show with the bar. Neither show that night was related to Spain. I was beginning to get into the swing of the randomness of this evening.
We were called forward and the performance space featured more wooden structures, a covered hole in the ceiling and blue plastic chairs. Yes, this is a place of strange combinations.
The first performance (The Comforter) by Stacy Makishi was a kind of therapeutic journey with some deeply emotional and some brazenly sexual moments. She made the audience breathe with her at the beginning and the end of the show. She made us at ease with her friendly accent and tone of voice. She told us she was over 50 but looked much younger and had the incredible flexibility that allowed her to fit into a closed suitcase. She mentioned that she was Hawaiian and included, translated and contextualised a few Hawaiian words to improve our understanding of her unique personal culture. She unashamedly announced that she was gay a few times. She got an audience member to cover their finger in Vaseline and then insert it into another audience members various 'crevices' while blindfolded. She watched a scene from Dumbo that represented her relationship with her mother. She was self critical and calmly found a prop she had forgotten while talking to us like friends from the corner of the room. She dealt with the 'frog in [her] throat' that failed to distort the speech towards the end of the performance. She had themes of connection, love and death running throughout. She stuffed a huge duvet into a T-shirt she was wearing at the time. She told us about her friend Lisa who loves her more than she can bare. She told us repeatedly, 'You are worthy of love'. It felt good.
After stealing some patatas bravas from a generous friend, we reentered the theatre. Makishi's aesthetic was mostly white with some black - mostly floating sheets of material. What were where now greeted with was bright colours scrambled together on a solid puppet show frame, mysterious boxes that are used for magic tricks, a Curious George monkey sat on a chair, an old man in a children's entertainers uniform.
The second performance (Bi-curious George and Other Sidekicks) by Lucy Hutson spoke to the multiple cynics in me. The cynic that despises traditional performances for their rigidness and originality. The cynic that doesn't trust performance art because it is too personal, wishy-washy and simplistic for me to hold a true understanding of. It began slowly, with a childish gag around blowing up a balloon. I remember thinking, isn't it clever how much humour you can squeeze from the simple act of blowing up a balloon. Then Curious George, who was previously slumped over the chair motionless, became alive and (similarly to the balloon gag failing to not pop), the character of the old man that I had constructed using social cues was disrupted when Lucy introduced him as his father. What followed was a mishmash of exciting magic tricks and illusions with sobering and illuminating personal reveals. The performance was split into two halves. A nod to the acts and intervals of traditional theatre. Except that during the 5 minute break we stayed sat in our blue plastic chairs and they drank cold tea and water and reflected on how the show was going so far. The second half was more personal and the father and daughter swapped clothes - something the father expressed deep discomfort about. There was a game where the two had a balloon construction race. With all his years of experience, Mr Hutson won every time but he gave encouraging comments that reminded us of his paternal role.
The whole performance was a merging of techniques and Mr Hutson's final monologue did well to describe the differences between their styles; 'Pantomime' vs 'Content', old vs new. He ended with the optimist image and comment that they had hopefully reached 'a balance'. As I saw the balloon trick that created a form of a scale point resting in the centre of a spectrum I was left with the sense of a happy conclusion.
This double bill worked well in that both shows dealt with failure, sexuality and different forms of love. It left you with the reassuring idea that we are all random and made of our own weird and wonderful strange combinations.
Reference to performances: https://theyardtheatre.co.uk/theatre/events/now-18/now-18-week-1/
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