I was a mostly silent clown for several years, and my reaction to that was to make a show that was nearly all words. Now it's all about the linguistic acrobatics. I 'proclaimed' during an audience feedback session on Monday night at the Cockpit Theatre, that there was nothing shocking, revolutionary or empowering about a woman taking her clothes off onstage. Was it better when I just got my boobs out and said nothing? That was a rhetorical question. I've read yet another feminist journalists response to the Emma Watson boob fiasco this morning, and I'm feeling snippy. There was a famous burlesque performer called Gypsy Rose Lee who recited poetry while stripping, and in doing so made potent commentary on the male gaze. Did/would anyone actually pay attention to the words? Or would we all be too distracted by the flesh, the artful disrobing and cheeky knowingness of this gorgeous woman to notice the power in her subversiveness? The uneventful striptease I do happens early on in 'Frontal Lobotomy', almost like I want to get it over with, and move onto something more useful. A friend who saw the show in Leeds recently (this is someone I trained at LISPA with, and who saw Jeu Jeu doing her 'Crossroads' act in Edinburgh 2015, so they know my work in context) said the semi-nude section was important because of how I don't 'make a big deal out of it' - "Yeah, we've all seen flesh before, we know about burlesque, let's move on from that, and do something more interesting with it." Certainly the nudity in Frontal Lobotomy is intended to be more about being exposed and vulnerable; 'stripping away the layers of reasoning to that which is unknowable'. It's definitely a post-burlesque show for me, I loved making and performing Jeu Jeu's funny skits, but in giving her a voice, I've made her a grown up. She'll be 6 years old on April 1st, and I'm celebrating her birthday this year for the first time, almost as if I've finally acknowledged her existence, and need to ritualise it somehow. More and more I find myself consulting her when I need to make creative decisions.

A comment from the Theatre in the Pound audience on Monday night, was that my stance on frontal lobotomies and mental illness was neutral and rooted in the 1950's. The question was raised that where was my opinion on all of it? This is bearing in mind that I'd only performed the first 15 minutes of the show, and I think an opinion does develop throughout the 55 minutes of the whole show - one that is not in any way in support of experimental brain surgery to 'cure' mental illness. Should I have an opinion? Or allow the audience to form their own? Another comment I had recently when I performed the whole piece at The Albany in London, was 'Why didn't you say "I'd rather have a bottle in front of me, than a frontal lobotomy?" I was waiting for that line!' Yes, the whole show hinges on the zinger Tom Waits dropped on a 1970's chat show, and the truth is I did say it during the Edinburgh run. But it always felt too clunky, that I was subtitling, and not allowing space for the audience to work it out for themselves. I'm still figuring out who this woman is, and why she's here, saying all of this stuff. I got put on the spot the other night... strangers demanding answers, it was interesting!

So I'm coming to realise, with every performance and every conversation, that I'm crassly dividing audiences into two camps: those that want to know what it's about, and those that haven't a clue what it's about, and welcome that! However, I've sat through a lot of shows that I didn't understand, and knew that the company didn't want me to understand, and that just made me angry. If you've ever seen a Forced Entertainment show, then you'll know what I mean, and maybe you love them - I don't, but I've made myself go and see them several times. There's something infuriating about the black nosed clown, it's an arrogance that's very fun to play, but can lead the audience into all sorts of negative emotions. I know this from my work with The Mist: We Are Not Cakes - there's a fine line between a celebration of absurdism, and being deliberately, nihilistically annoying. I don't want to alienate an audience by making them feel that I'm withholding any form of explanation on purpose.

I had a very useful and balanced review written about the show from my performance in Leeds, where the reviewer from Theatre Bubble had expressed frustration at not being able to work it all out, but mused that maybe that was the point. She said that my characters were more sketched out than being fully formed, a convention commonly seen in cabaret performance, and that this provoked a more cerebral response in her. Read the review in full here.

A line from the opening speech from the show goes; 'We're going to take an inebriational stroll through the bowels of my grey matter, and rest somewhere between the pre-frontal cortex and limbic system, suspended between rationality and sensation.'

Are we thinking, or are we feeling? A transorbital lobotomy severs the connections between the 'human' and 'mammal' parts of the brain, (to massively oversimplify the most complex and mysterious organ in the body) and somewhere in that brain tissue is where I believe is our sense of self resides - the two halves that need to be integrated.

A quote I loved from the Theatre Bubble review was; 'I was swept along through dreams and images, as if in a dream, from which one wakes up bemused, but happily so.' I had three stuttery dreams last night; one was like an episode of 'Black Mirror', one was rude(!), and in another I was talking to foxes. I'm not innocent when I dream, and if I took them all literally and at face value I would be seriously worried about my state of mind. As my teacher at LISPA practically screamed at us when we frowned, rubbed our foreheads and whined 'I don't know' during the final neutral mask session on the IMPP course in Berlin "YOU DON'T HAVE TO KNOW!!" But we want to know don't we? We want to work it all out and then file it in the 'dealt with' drawer. I remember going to see a production of 'Cleansed' by Sarah Kane years ago, that left me so emotionally distraught immediately after, that I had to go and hide in a toilet cubicle until I'd calmed down. My boss at the time who I'd gone to the theatre with, said he felt jealous that I'd been so affected, when his response was cerebral and objective. I felt horribly embarrassed of my response at the time, and longed for more objectivity. Neither reaction to the show was the 'right' one to have, in hindsight both of us enjoyed it in our own way, but it was our self-judgement and comparison that could be seen as negative.

I think what I'm trying to say here is that I can't tell you anymore about what my show is about, anymore than I can interpret my dreams for you, read your mind or control your imagination. Someone said to me once that dreams are like your brain taking a shit. My brain has a shit every night, a beautiful shit. Your brain has beautiful shits every night too. And that's all this show I made is - my beautiful shit, made as visible and audible as I can make it, with as much care and craft as I can manage. I'm not ready to 'know' what it's about yet, and maybe I never will. But you are most welcome to tell me what it is about for you.

Dear

The last performance of 'Jeu Jeu la Foille's Frontal Lobotomy' for the foreseeable future was in Buxton last Saturday. The invoices have been paid, props and costumes put away or repaired/retired, and that final review should be here any day. And as I write this I'm in a state of turmoil, thoughts rushing through my head, thinking on the events that have happened in my personal life in the past 7 months, and remembering that the show was a kind of anchor through all of that.
I heard someone say recently that whatever you go out to attack, comes back to get you. I hope that the show helped to gently persuade people of what they already thought they knew. Certainly I have felt attacked in my personal life, but the audience responses to the show have been very loving and supportive. If anything has kept me going it's this show.

But what do I do with it next?

Some possible ideas that have come out of various audience responses, working with directors and experience of solo touring:

Ask for more funding next time. I should've asked for a higher sum. Over this 7 month tour, because I was lucky enough to receive a small grant from the Arts Council, it opened me up to these kind of conversations with other artists I knew or met along the way. And their grant was always bigger than mine! They were often surprised at how little I was working with. Costs did add up, and though I made just enough in hat donations, and saved some other already budgeted for pounds here and there - I just about broke even. And I didn't pay myself any sort of wage or expenses. All of my full shows, bar two, were free. I've learned from this that I have consistently undersold or undervalued myself, feeling that I somehow wasn't worthy of money. Doing this tour has begun to turn that around for me.
​
Believe in yourself more. At the start I was doubting everything about touring, but the run at the Vaults was the turning point, and the show got a second wind in May at Chaplin's Cellar Bar. April was a bit of slump audience and energy wise. I got a bit monotone in my delivery, and once this was pointed out to me by a friend or two, I worked hard to turn that around. I loved Brighton Fringe! I also worked hard on the transitions and characters of the show with the help of Pepe Gudino in June, and July was a busy month in terms of shows and audiences. Before the start of the tour in January I performed an extract in a cabaret show called Le Chien Noir. All of the acts were themed around mental illness, it was very moving. I felt I'd done a terrible performance and was mortified, but quickly cheered up by those around me. All those I've worked with and met since conceiving this show have been nothing but caring and supportive, and the audiences have been up for it! Positive reviews and blog posts, some nice personal thank you's and acknowledgment on some level from my peers have been an added bonus.

It has become clearer than ever through the process of performing this show, that the decision I made to operate my own lighting and sound as part of the show, is brave but misguided. It does make the show seem really solo, I'm completely on my own with no one to help me. In May I experimented with a foot pedal to change the tracks, and uploaded my music onto a go button app - I should've done this long before, although I broke the foot pedal in my solo tech rehearsal in the first performance I tried with it. I want it to appear like I'm changing the needle on the gramophone, rather than pressing the screen on my ipad. It looks naff at the moment, and I've thought through every option I can think of to change it.

Get to know your performance persona and be careful when dealing with the media. I've got to know who Jeu Jeu la Foille is more over the course of seven months. Or over the fourteen months since I first let her speak onstage. I've let her do the talking far more this year, and BCC Radio Surrey only wanted me to tell them where she had come from, they didn't ask me anything leading about the actual show! She's not French!!! I've had more interest in my facebook page than ever before, and it's made me think about the work I did before this, and what I might go on to try next. I don't think I'm finished with this show yet, and certainly now it's at least more visible, I need some time to think and try to choose wisely what the next version is, and how visible I want my browsing history to be. This show is niche for one thing, I don't know where it could go.

The show works best on a small stage with the audience up close, but not too close to each other. Comedy audiences need to sit close together. The show at Guildford Fringe was a good example of this, although it was in some ways my freest and smoothest performance of them all, the stage was larger and higher than I'm used to, and the audience were far away and in complete darkness. This threw me a bit, and I wasn't expecting it to. I discovered that looking at people while you're performing to them is really important. Sound obvious, but I found many ways of looking at people who were looking at me. And I tried to really see them too. For a bigger stage I'll need bigger props, but I'm very tied to the idea that the entire show (except a chair) goes into a suitcase that I cart around myself on a stupid trolley. I've discovered that I'm very determined when it comes to being on time for shows, and (except for Latitude that I'm still weeping over) I've made it to all of them, and done a fairly decent job of largely doing this on my own, with only myself to blame and then try and sort it out. There have of course been many annoying things about moving that suitcase around, but I probably needed the exercise.

I'll write more when I think of more,

Yours faithfully,

Jeu Jeu la Foille c/o Vicky Hancock

My Frontal Lobotomy is an oddity, it's non-conventional, encompassing many different styles. I'm usually in a small space, and that space becomes more and more filled with stuff as the show continues. I travel within this small space; I go from a bar to a house to a lecture theatre, to a psychiatric ward...By the final stages of the show it's clear to the audience what a lobotomy is, but there is a lot of information, it's too much to process in one sitting. I call upon the audience to be fully alert, and yet I encourage them to relax at the start. People tend to find that it's only in their conversations after the show that anyone can piece together the experience that they've had. And that's where it gets interesting, different people see different things, and it can play on their minds for days afterwards - so they tell me! The audience make their own world based on the aftermath of whatever they have just witnessed. The show demands a free mind, if you focus too long on one aspect it will be gone, and we're already on to something else.The through line is Tom Waits, it's strange to discover that he was born in a taxi, he is an oddity himself. The different characters I play need to be more defined, each poem or story needs its own personality. I use costume to introduce each character, but I could do more physically and vocally to prepare the audience for the change, to introduce the new theme. There is a lot of text - and for a performer who trained in physical theatre, and as a burlesque performer who hardly ever spoke, this is a big departure - maybe the audience who already know me don't expect that? I can choose the key words and deliver those, look at 'All That Jazz' for inspiration. The technical aspects are clunky, I need to either fully own doing my own cues or have someone else do it for me. The operating my own music and controlling my own blackout came from necessity when I couldn't find a technician at Edinburgh Fringe. And gradually I realised that this was a solo show, and I was on my own, and that was ok. It was just me. I made it a feature. Theatre is collaborative, at least in my experience - but how far could I take the solo performance? I didn't want to time the sound cues to fit in with my performance, I felt that could limit my play, but I don't feel that I should hide it either - I need to find a way to hit that button. Maybe limit the music changes to three moments. I could play more with the doctor character at the start, I don't need to be so afraid of the audience, perhaps set up the convention of interaction right from the word go. Could I be polishing my ice-pick as the audience enter? They first see it when I'm in the red dress for the moment, and I love that reveal, but maybe they need to see it earlier? The Brain Haikus are too difficult to read, I need to print these, maybe shine a torch. I need to really mark my territory in those doctor moments, use the audience at the back more. Audience interaction terrifies me, how do I overcome that? The audience at the front should want to look behind them, see what's going on. Every space I perform in is different, how do I figure this out? I could play with my mistakes more, there are moments when I almost trip over my dress, and I have no help, as I'm on my own - it's just me. Could I really fall? The ending of the show is cute but weak, the audience are waiting for more. Could I use the black dress I wear at the start to cover everything over again? Almost as though everything is covered and neural, waiting for the whole thing to begin again? Could I disappear into the dress? I made the black skirt for a black hole installation at LISPA. The installation didn't work, but I was left with a gigantic skirt I'd made that I knew had to be used again, for something, and it found it's use here. How can I bring it back in? And then there's Bobby Cool, the Tom Waits puppet. Named after my grandmothers first boyfriend when she was five years old, and modelled on the outfit Tom Waits wore in the the 1974 interview when he dropped the zinger 'I've rather have a bottle in front of me than a frontal lobotomy.' I made the Bobby Cool puppet, he's a bit shit, I need a decent one. Could he change at all during the show? So far he is only used at the beginning and at the end. Is there a way for him to change his costume and position along with mine throughout the show? So much of this piece I found by experimenting in rehearsal, and listening to the audiences that came to see it. I've had very little direction, but a whole lot of encouragement. I'm so grateful to the strangers that have taken a chance on me, to the friends who have returned over and over again, to the time when NO ONE turned up and I performed to an audience of empty chairs, imagining that each of them were Tom Waits himself, and I had to give the best ever performance or he'd sue me! I don't take anything for granted, every performance is sacred to me, whether it's full (thank you Brighton) or only a few (many of them!) and I love those shows just as much. I could never imagine performing this piece to an audience larger than 50, it sounds daft, but I have to see each of those people. I'm always amazed when anyone actually shows up, I'm nobody, I always feel that I have no right to be there. But I should, and I'm going to keep trying to be better.
 
With all of the loves, Jeu Jeu la Foille xx

A year ago today Frontal Lobotomy had its first public viewing, in a preview for Edinburgh Fringe at the Canal Cafe theatre. At that stage the arrival of the 'band' was mimed, as I didn't yet have the props, the doctor character didn't exist, there were three poems in that showing that I no longer use, and two that hadn't yet been written have now appeared. Still, I had a show of sorts. This morning I re-read the review I received from The Scotsman in Edinburgh, that spoke of a 'relaxed and self-assured stage presence.' A year ago that first performance was anything but. The next two previews happened in July, where in the meantime I'd been travelling and teaching in Italy and had done very little towards the show. Still, it had changed quite significantly. Working without a director or any outside input was hard, and I very much relied on my gut, and comments from friends. Without the initial guidance and continued encouragement of Peta Lily, and the amazing support and friendship from Susanna Jeffery it may never have happened. I was mortified onstage in those first two performances, though I feel I had finally got somewhere by the final preview. Edinburgh Free Fringe is great for new shows, I got the chance to really develop Frontal Lobotomy in the moment, and many of the problems I encountered and immediate reactions I received, have ended up contributing to the overall feel of the show. And twelve performances into the tour from December, and numerous extract performances later, it's starting to make more sense to me. I'm much freer than I was at the start, and I've finally realised that it doesn't need to make complete sense, the audience will try to follow me anyway. I've been lucky to receive so much praise for it, but I don't think it's finished yet. I'm taking a break from the show this August to give myself some time to figure out what I want to do with it next.

I added another section. I agonised for a while about how I could work at least one haiku into the show - it seemed I'd referenced every type of poem except for haikus. I thought about finding a haiku on a piece of paper and reading it, or making it into a letter from Dr Freeman from Jeu Jeu, but decided that the audience had heard enough of my voice, and that I would ask an audience member to read it for me. Audience interaction is still something that unnerves me still, it's the part I can't control or plan for, and I have to remind myself that this was what my training at LISPA was really for. The ability to let go and trust myself. Having the Brain Haikus has allowed me to interact more fully, rather than just pretending to lobotomise myself and others! I've been posting the ones that get read out on my facebook profile, and it's become something I look forward to doing, both in the show and afterwards. Brain vocabulary is difficult to pronounce, my hand-writing is difficult to read, and the Haikus make absolutely no sense. But I've had so much fun writing and sharing them for the past three shows by the sea.

It occurred to me today from the conversations I've had with complete strangers and people I barely know who have come to see the show, that many of my audience have taken a complete gamble on me. In the audience I've had mental health practitioners, burlesque fans, neuroscientists, Trump protestors, non-native English speakers, Waits obsessives/virgins/non-believers...I'm very grateful.

Something I attempted for the first two previews, but then scrapped, has re-surfaced again. Tom Waits has an uncanny ability to capture a scene in his writing; I'm thinking of tracks like '9th and Hennepin', 'Circus', 'Potter's Field', 'Small Change.' I tried a similar kind of thing based on my home town, which I'd been coming to terms with living in again, after everything in London ended in October 2016 ('Last October everything turned on a dime...'), but could never quite find it.
I want to collaborate with the use of sound for this one, having done some further research into the effects of music on the brain, I'm not sure I will ever perform it live. It's about a mythical place not far from where I live.

Xx

Who is Jeu Jeu la Foille? She's untidy, sassy and fragile. She's jaded, playful and she lies about her past. She was once a glittering chanteuse, but now she's broken. She's sexy without being sexualised; A borderline slut? A narcissist? She stared too long at herself. She lives for rhythm, rhyme and reason. She's governed by the moon, the moon intimidates her, but she swims in it's romanticism. She feels fear, doubt and guilt, but never shame. She hasn't cried for a long time. She is reborn every springtime, April Fools Day is her birthday. She looks at life through the bottom of an ashtray. She's single malt whiskey, complex and layered. Maybe she stings or burns if you aren't used to her. She'll give you the worst hangover you've ever known. She's an acquired taste. Has she had a frontal lobotomy? Is she considering one? Is Tom Waits having a dream about her?

When I started writing Frontal Lobotomy, I was asked the question Who is Tom Waits to me? I wrote down all of the roles he's played in my life, and from that came the poem 'Late Night Conversation', which I perform while manipulating a trilby hat about halfway through the show, it's one of my favourite moments. Sometimes when I read that poem in rehearsals (which, up to now, I have always been alone for) I get a little bit tearful. I think about how it will sound when Tom Waits is no longer with us - will I have to change it? Will I even get the words out? Over last Christmas I experienced what I'm calling 'spiralling self-doubt' over the show, I couldn't believe how well it done so far, and was terrified that I wasn't good enough. A successful musician friend I explained this to the other night asked me why I had written 'Frontal Lobotomy', I could've thought of something profound, or worthy, or gone into a long monologue on my creative process, but instead I chose to be simple and honest; 'I just really love Tom Waits.' He laughed. I'm still more clown than poet.

I've started working with a director; my good friend Simon Nader (I checked that he wouldn't mind me using his name here). We went to university together, saw each other only a handful of times in the intermittent *coughs nearly 20 years, and then were reunited at the Edinburgh Fringe last year - where Frontal Lobotomy debuted. Simon saw the show a number of times at the Fringe (he received the first ever lipstick lobotomy, and has never forgiven me) and was a huge help and encouragement to me there and since. I think we probably have quite contrasting tastes when it comes to theatre, and our training pathways were considerably different - I know he'll help me as he already loves the show and sees it's potential. Having worked a little bit with Simon before my performance on April 8th in London, I can already see how much I've taken for granted in my vocal delivery. Both Simon and the friends who saw the show last week commented on how well I moved, the slow movement being really tantalising and full of tension, but allowing time for all of the words to be digested. The trouble is that many of the poems and stories are coming out flat or monotone, I'm not yet living the words fully, there is room for much more variation and play - the key word in Simon's feedback was play. The show is endearing, it's sweet, and very strange, but I know that I haven't fully connected with it yet.

As a burlesque performer Jeu Jeu la Foille was just my name, my brand I suppose. It's means Play the Fool' and it can mean 'Play the Madwoman.' I'd already had the name for a few months when another performer I met, who day-jobbed as a psychiatrist, said that 'Foille Jeu' was a term used to describe a split personality. And now people ask me 'Who is Jeu Jeu la Foille?' 'Where is she? Is it her bedroom?' 'Has she gone mad?' 'Is she having a dream?' There is a line I love from a Tom Waits song that I've forgotten the name of; 'All the places that I'm dreaming of, are they dreaming of me?'

So I'm slowly building up a character profile.....working out the given circumstances.....all that stuff you're supposed to do BEFORE you start doing the acting. My teacher self is having strong words with my creator self.

​Onto the writing stuff, which is what I really love! I started writing some HAIKUS! I have lots of other forms of poetry in the show; beat poems, narrative poems, a sonnet, a limerick, rhyming couplets, but no little haikus. Dr Walter Freeman wrote poems in his spare time, and often his patients wrote him thank you poems. - I have one in the show that I read out like a letter from Jeu Jeu la Foille, and I wanted to include another letter or note somewhere from Freeman to Jeu Jeu.

The only rule for haikus is that they are composed of three lines, with 5 / 7 / 5 syllables per line. There is often a juxtaposition of ideas and a seasonal reference. I've made a start on a haiku letter, I'm not happy with it yet, but I will persist.

Dear Jeu Jeu la Foille
Doctor Walter Freeman here
How are you feeling?

Maybe you feel strange
Maybe you feel null and void
It's necessary

This operation
Can I come visit you soon
Perhaps there's success

Top photo by Stephan Burn Photography
Bottom photo by me on Instagram @jeujeulafoille

Who is Jeu Jeu la Foille? She is the one who makes a mess, Vicky is the one who cleans it up. Jeu Jeu is a mixture of sassiness and fragility. She will tell you all of her secrets, but lie about her past. She is a broken down chanteuse, she's had a glittering career, and now she wants to reveal the darker side of show-business. She's jaded, she's reached the end of her tether, her youthful looks are fading, but she's comfortable with her body. She's sexy without being sexualised. She plays with danger. She loves word play, she lives for rhyme and rhythm. She's finally come to terms with the way she looks, having feared for most her life that she was ugly. There is an element of the narcissist in her, she stared too long at herself and lost the very thing that was unique and wonderful about her. She's governed by the moon, the moon intimidates her, but she swims in it's romanticism. She feels fear, doubt and guilt, but never shame. She is reborn every springtime, she was born on April 1st. Winter always feels to long for her, but she can never wait for summer to be over. She looks at life through the bottom of an ashtray. She like a single malt whiskey, complex and layered. Maybe she stings or burns if you aren't used to her. She's an acquired taste. Has she had a frontal lobotomy? Is she considering one? Is Tom Waits having a dream about her?

When I started writing Frontal Lobotomy, I was asked the question Who is Tom Waits to me? I wrote down all of the things he was to me, and from that came the poem 'Late Night Conversation' that I perform in the show. Sometimes when I read that poem in preparation for a show I get a little bit tearful. I think about how it will sound when Tom Waits is no longer with us - will I have to change it? Over last Christmas I experienced a lot of fear and self-doubt over the show, I couldn't believe how well it done so far, and was terrified that I wasn't good enough. A successful musician friend I explained this to the other night asked me why I had written the show, I could've thought of something profound, or worthy, or gone into a long monologue on my creative process, but instead I chose to be simple and honest 'I just really love Tom Waits.' It's safe to say that I've got my mojo back now, but Winter felt long this year. I've started working with a director, my good friend Simon Nader (I checked that he wouldn't mind me using his name here). We went to university together, saw each other only a handful of times in the intermittent 20 years, and then were reunited at the Edinburgh Fringe last year - where Frontal Lobotomy debuted. Simon saw the show a number of times at the Fringe, and was a huge help and encouragement to me there and since. I think we probably have quite contrasting tastes when it comes to theatre, and our training pathways were considerably different, and I know he'll really help me as he already loves the show and sees it's potential. Having worked a little bit with Simon before my performance on April 8th in London, I can already see how much I've taken for granted in my vocal delivery. Both Simon and the friends who saw the show on Saturday commented on how well I moved, the slow movement being really tantalising and full of tension, but allowing time for all of the words to be digested. The trouble is the many of the poems and stories are coming out flat or monotone, the feedback was that I'm not yet living the words fully, there is room for much more variation and play - the key word was play. The show is endearing, it's sweet, and very strange. Feedback on my performance is the cheeky confidence and strong presence I exude - this is definitely Jeu Jeu, not Vicky. 

The doctor writing a letter - recording in a dictaphone to Jeu Jeu 

Haiku's are composed of 3 lines, each a phrase. The first line typically has 5 syllables, second line has 7 and the 3rd and last line repeats another 5. Seasonal reference - two ideas brought together. Cutting word

Dear Jeu Jeu la Foille
Doctor Walter Freeman here
How are you feeling?

Maybe you feel strange
Maybe you feel null and void
It's necessary

This operation
Can I come visit you soon
Perhaps there's success 

'Prior to the advent of brain, there was no colour and no sound in the universe, nor was there any flavour or aroma and probably little sense and no feeling or emotion. Before brains the universe was also free of pain and anxiety.' Roger Sperry

Frontal Lobotomy completed its first London run last week at Vault Festival. Many things surprised me; how nervous I was on opening night, how many people I didn't know were in the audience, how readily people volunteer to have a lobotomy....

I've made contact with several neuro-scientists in recent months, and I'm still trying to formulate my questions for them. I've done some reading on 'The Shadow', this is the next stage of the IMPP journey at LISPA-Berlin that I began in March/April 2016. And I performed an extract of the show at 'Le Chien Noir: A cabaret fundraiser for Rethink Mental Illness.' 

The writing has had some editing, and there is a new poem...a very strange poem, quite different from the others. I'm still finding out what to do onstage while it's playing. Rehearsals are a lonely place for a solo performer, and I still wish I could look forward to performing. It's getting easier, and the feedback continues to be positive.

This week, on advice from my Teacher Self, I set a writing task - actioning the text. I wrote down, simply, objectively and without metaphor or explanation, all of the actions I take onstage. I wondered what people actually saw when they come to see the show. I'm still making sense of this thing I made. I feel like it's ready now, in terms of a piece, but I don't yet understand it.

Notes below - bear in mind (if anyone actually reads this) that this is the entire show written out in actions: serious spoiler alert!

​Prologue
A doctor greets the patients outside of the performing area. She warns the people that the procedure will last just under an hour, and may leave them feeling slightly altered.

In Shades
After a short pause the audience enter to blues music. A woman stands upstage centre, holding a mirror with her back to the audience. The skirt she is wearing, now changed from the white coat and glasses to a black corset, covers the entire stage. There are two shapes visible under the black shirt. The woman flirts with the audience through the mirror.

Small Change
The woman places the mirror upstage centre. She slowly pulls the skirt away from the stage right lump to reveal a chair with costumes and a hat placed on it. And a pair of red sparkly heels. She slowly pulls the stage left lump to reveal an upturned brown suitcase. She places a desk light and a small puppet on the suitcase.

Such a Scream
During a mythical poem, the small puppet smokes under the light - image of downtrodden man sitting under a lamppost. 

Interview
The music snaps into chat show music, straight after the light is switched out. The skirt comes up over the woman's head, and she puts on the red braces on her black trousers. She struggles to gather up all of the material of the black skirt, at the same time Tom Waits is being introduced on a voiceover. I'm not Tom Waits. She answers the interview questions as if they were being asked about her. She discovers a brain under the hat, she places the brain in front of her, sits on the chair, and puts on the hat.

A Very Emotional Weather Report
The woman mimes playing the piano and addresses the audience with a beat poem. She reassures them that they will arrive back home.

Instrumental Montage
The music changes suddenly and the woman mimes pushing away the piano. She finds a light in the little brain model, and finds that it lights up her own brain by travelling through her ears. She tries this with several members of the audience. She draws two pictures in the air with the lights and they disappear back into her hat. The music fades and she puts on her doctor costume.

Walter Freeman 1
In the first lecture demonstration the woman explains to the class what a frontal lobotomy is, and introduces Walter Freeman. The year is 1949.

Striptease Metaphors

The woman strips out of her clothing, while speaking about lowering the illusion.

My Trauma Has Been Drinking

The woman sways while drinking from a glass and giving a poem about trauma, using shipping language.

Lost in the Harbour

A recorded poem is heard, it is using words to describe PTSD. The woman puts on a red dress and high heels.

Baby I'm Not A Baby Anymore

Burlesque music plays and an ice-pick is seen appearing over the right shoulder of the woman. She dances with the ice pick, mimes stabbing, swirls the tip in whiskey and then licks it. She raises the icepick above her head, leans back and appears to poke it through her eye. The icepick lands and she recites a limerick about frontal lobotomies.

Tit Tape and a Tiara

The woman addresses the audience as a burlesque performer in a rhythmical poem. At the end she goes to switch off the lights, leaving the 'lamppost' as one single light onstage. 

How the Moon got her Light

The woman tells a fairytale about a pretty lamppost who saw her reflection at night, and couldn't bear the sight of herself by day, and so detached herself and became the moon. At the end of the story, the woman has changed back into the doctor, and switches the lights back on.

Walter Freeman 2

The doctor explains that frontal lobotomies are at the peak of their popularity in 1949, and further explains how prolific Walter Freeman was in his treatment. The woman asks for volunteers from the audience. 

Other Side

The music changes, she slowly removes the doctors coat and smears her face with lipstick. At the same time her dress rips and she loses a shoe. She staggers into the audience, putting lipstick on a man and staggering back to the chair with Tom's hat and a whiskey bottle.

Showbiz and Apocalypse

The woman swigs from the bottle and tells a poem about her fabulous demise.

Dear Dr Freeman

The woman finds a letter in Tom's Hat and reads it out loud. It is signed from Jeu Jeu la Foille. The hat pours glitter over her head, and she raises it slowly as if she's speaking to a person.

Late Night Conversation

The woman recites a poem imagining she was speaking to Tom Waits. She places the small brain under the hat at the end of the poem.

Spare Parts

The woman hastily changes into a leather jacket, and tears off the bottom of her dress to upbeat music. She puts on boots and downs the last of the whiskey. She lip-synchs to the voice of Tom Waits thanking the audience for being there and introducing her band, who are four puppets with toy instruments. The music stops and the band refuse to play. The woman is uncomfortable.

The One Who Got Away

The woman tells a frightening story-poem, about threat and escaping.

Fist Kiss

A mysterious poem is heard while the woman looks at the audience in the mirror again and then changes into the doctor.

Walter Freeman 3

The doctor explains the disastrous consequences of frontal lobotomies. And that Walter Freeman stills pursues the cure. 

Rainbirds

Mystical music is played. The woman changes from the doctor. She puts on a black hat and overalls over her dress. She wipes off the lipstick, takes tissues to the audience volunteers. She takes a swig from the bottle.

Soar Dirge

The woman recites a mass of words - onomatopoeia/the voice of Tom Waits.

Creation Myth

The woman tells a long story about how life was born from sound. She draws pictures in the air.

Not Innocent When I Dream

The woman sings a song about her dreams, with each verse she picks up one of the puppets, as they feature in each dream. She puts them down at the end of the song.

Good Old World/Feminine Ending

The woman recites a sonnet, as she manipulates the puppet from the opening scene. He stands up and looks at the stars. He lies down, she places a blanket over him, and switches out the light. Sweet music plays until the end.

The End xxx

With someone like Tom Waits, with his vast body of work, how do I distill all of that into my top five songs? It's a challenge I was given recently, and I've revised my original choices, in case there is anyone other than me who reads this...and is interested...? In no particular order...
​
* Coney Island Baby, Blood Money
* Burma Shave, Foreign Affairs
* Mr Siegal, The version from Virginia Avenue
* Ruby's Arms, Heartattack and Vine
* Telephone Call from Istanbul, The version from Big Time

We're already at 5, but I have to continue...

* Hoist that Rag, Real Gone
* Watch her Disappear, Alice/Circus, Real Gone

​Please note, this is work-in-progress!

Lists, lists, more Lists:

​REHEARSAL TASKS

Instrumental Montage sequence
Transition between Crow and Red Dress
Posture (shoulders and chin) and Walking in heels - control swaying
Transition into 'Other Side'
Object manipulation in Late night Conversation
Learn lines for 3rd Doctor
Transition from 3rd Doctor to Traveller
Singing
Rehearse Section for Le Chien Noir 18th January: 2nd Doctor, Other Side, Showbiz and Apocalypse and Late Night Conversation  

WRITING/RESEARCH TASKS

Crow - Develop Striptease Metaphors: Crow, Grief is the Thing with Feathers, Developing Cognition
Develop interview answers
Edit and add to opening speech - months
Write new poem - The One's that Got Away, mythologised beats

CRAFT/RECORDING TASKS

Make new fastening for Red Dress
Get One's that Got Away recorded. Edit between The One that Got Away and dressing as 3rd Doctor (Stand alone track)

Most of my day job involves watching people acting, making notes, and advising them on where they could improve. This week I gave myself the same treatment, by watching the video back from the 4th of December. Here are my notes...

49 mins long
Saxophone skipped at beginning
Chin - posture
Watch out for covering Bobby Cool's legs
Make sure braces are on properly
Find a better response to the mention of Keith Richards
Look at brain on the word bottle - It's kind of weird having a guy here with a BOTTLE in front of him.'
Adjust hat - piano still going and acted surprised - this worked, keep it.
Asking why - too much emphasis
Don't throw away weather report - keep momentum
Take the light out of the brain slower
Slow down the light drawings
Sort hair out
Have pen in the pocket already - set up for beginning, put it back in right place after opener
Nightmares go away, leave more pause after
Suprise lobotomy worked - person next to whomever is holding the brain - almost pounce on them
Check on the healing process later
Need better underwear - find some new quotations for the undressing part
Shipwreck
Trauma Drinking to Lost in Harbour - look at the transition.
Make new clasp for dress - quicker fastening
Shoulders back more for the ice-pick reveal
Have a sexier look, then smile
Watch out for chin on the shoulder stroke
Bottle
Shoulders back on Tit Tape and a Tiara
Find it in the dark, actually go searching for the lost pastie, until I find in the dark and switch the lights off. Look in Tom's hat.
Can we see the shadow during the lamppost story. Bring a brain light to the desk, and walk back with it to light the lamppost.
Good pacing
Look back at the lamppost during bringing up the lights at the desk
Too much stomping in the heels - practise walking
Too much fiddling with coat
Keep the flourish of the ice-pick, mirroring the lobotomy image from before.
Murder good - DBS
Check on the patient to deflect from the tension build from asking for volunteers
Too long a pause before other side - work on this transition
Disintegration
Stumbling with the skirt works
Start showbiz and apocalypse straight away
Slow hat on ascent
More sharp movement in beginning of late night conversation
Look at pacing
Lower hat on hurt
More prep for 2nd part of lip-synch
Too much swaying during improv
Works putting doctor
Gone tone for 3rd doctor
Consequences, learn lines better
Last bit of speech after CIA learn better
Need a better transition after 3rd doctor
Swig after 1st line of soar dirge
Physical prep before story/myth - draw shapes?
Extraordinary
Turn Pete's bow tie off, during story, some point after twinkling lights
Work on singing
Bobby Cool smokes 1st, can he throw the fag away? Looking up to the sky...
 
Lots to work on here...

I've also been moved to write new material, possibly not for the show, but something in definitely cooking! Here is one:

I'll blame the moon
Right out of the sky for you baby
It's the thorn in our sides
Please call me baby
I'll blame the moon
Stuck up there in the sky
Teetering there on the edge
Of a coloured wind sky
I'll blame the moon
For the severance in my heart
For I can barely walk
Since you have stolen mine heart
 
Xxx



 

After I performed the show last Sunday, a friend who was in the audience asked me if the text would be available, as it was compelling to hear, and would be interesting to read afterwards. He told me about chapbooks and so I made several copies of my own, it includes most of the text from the show, and a limited edition copy will be awarded to anyone who gives a £5 donation or more at my next performance. While stocks last!!

Despite having forgotten an important prop (again), the show went well. I will always ask friends for feedback and suggestions, and I'm grateful for any they are able to give. It was filmed....I can't bring myself to watch it yet, even though it's been nearly a week, but I know I need to in order to get any sort of concrete idea of how to move forward with this performance.

Here are some audience comments;
* There are more ways to perform each piece, you are already experimenting with different tones, but you could push this further.
* Several props are only used once, can more be reintroduced? Loved the black hole dress, can this be used again?
* You are much more relaxed than you were in the preview, you're much easier to watch now!
* The structure is great, it's really well-paced.
* Enjoyed the ship poem, like the fantastical language.
* Good use of voice.
* The letter is a nice addition, is helps to tie a story together.

I'm terrible at describing this show to friends; I normally start off by saying 'It's really weird.' And then 'It's basically an hour of me getting dressed and undressed and saying some things.'

I was thinking about the structure of the show this week, as a few people had mentioned it to me on Sunday, and I remember very early in my process that a loose structure had presented itself to me in the form of various costumes. I knew that I would need to get dressed and undressed several times in order to visually show the structure as I had seen it. I 'tried to represent the different characters that appear time and time again in Tom Waits' songs, and later on as the show developed into being more about the human psyche, it became about the different stages of recovery.
These were: Black Hole, Beatnik, Crow, Red Dress, Jet Trash, Gun Street Girl and Traveller. I've needed to find ways of representing each personified theme, and moving between them throughout the show. They also represent the stages of grief, not always in this order: Denial, Anger, Barginning, Depression and Acceptance. The doctor character was added much later in the process, and is the only character that appears more than once, as a motif - but I hope developing in content as the show continues.

It reminds me of how Camille O'Sullivan transforms herself throughout her stage shows, and the various costumes and characters she inhabits, tying in with the songs she's singing. I didn't realise this until this week, but I've been influenced by the structure of her shows from all those times I went to see her perform in London and Edinburgh, probably from 2009 to 2015. She used to enter the stage very mysteriously, wearing a long black cape, rip off most of her clothes at some point early on, and then later would put on very pale, almost clown-like makeup. By the end of the show she would be stumbling barefoot around the stage with her hair loose. The first time I saw her at the  Edinburgh Fringe in 2009 I was blown away. I probably would have passed the show by had my friend not pointed out to me in the program that she did cover versions of Tom Waits songs. There aren't many good videos of her on youtube, and I think she's really worth seeing live. I think I should go and watch myself on video now, this will be painful...