Project Description
Here and Now Performance Festival took place in The Courthouse Gallery, Ennistymon, on 16th August.
This was the inaugural Here and Now Performance Festival, celebrating and showcasing performance artists from the mid-west of Ireland. Within this event we incorporated
An introduction to performance art workshop,
6 live performances by Mid West based artists
And to close the day, our p(art)y Here and Now group live performance event.
See below for details of the festival.
Event 1: 2pm
Introduction to performance art workshop. Workshop facilitator: Rachel Macmanus
Sign up at hereandnowparty@gmail.com (please reference workshop in title)
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Performances from 2pm:
Here and Now Festival presented performances from 6 performance artists established in the mid west of Ireland. See below and click on each names to go to either their website or social media profile.
3pm: Gill Moses
3.20pm: Rocky Meany
3.40pm: Finbarr Dillon
4pm: Volodymyr Topiy
4.30pm: Maria Hoyin
5.00pm: Deej Fabyc
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p(art)y Here and Now. 6pm
A participatory live art group performance event to finish the afternoon.
p(art)y Here and Now is a participatory group performance art event which takes place in County Clare Ireland once a month, and is hosted by the 3 artists Rachel Macmanus, Slavek Kwi and Laura-Jane Allis. We invite all creatives of any discipline to come along and participate with us- no experience in live art needed. You can read more about p(art)y Here and Now here
Sign up to perform with us at hereandnowparty@gmail.com
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The Festival is free to attend – funded by CLAGS, Cup Print and GoFundMe
All enquiries to hereandnowparty@gmail.com
Post Festival Overview:
The inaugural Here and Now Performance Art Festival took place on Friday 16th August at The Courthouse Gallery, Ennistymon, Co Clare. It started at 2pm with a workshop on performance, facilitated by myself. Then we had 6 performances by regionals based artists, and finished the day with p(art)y Here and Now, the live participatory performance art event that we run monthly in County Clare.
We had a wonderful audience who showed up on the day and who were receptive, positive and interested. This made a huge difference to the day. A lot of the audience, who had come from as far as Cork and Dublin, stayed and watched and participated in p(art)y, our closing event also. The Courthouse Gallery in Ennistymon proved to be a great location due to its accessibility, friendly atmosphere and positive supportive team of staff.
It was a wonderful day and as Festival Director, I took way a lot of learning experiences. One thing I am very glad I thought of was to ask photographer Aleksandra Skibniewska to document the day and writer/poet/playwright Caro Ruoff to respond to the events of the day in text. Caro’s texts take the form of poetic performance impressions. It was important to gather this documentation because performance is an ephemeral art form. It exists only in memory and through any documentation of the event, be it verbal, visual or written.
The Introduction to Performance Art workshop was well attended by 16 participants. We went through a series of different exercises and worked in groups and on our own. We finished with short improvised performances in partnership with another workshop attendee. My own observations were that I should have scheduled more time for this workshop and that the environment was a little noisy. I received very positive feedback from the attendees afterwards.
We then commenced with the scheduled artist performances.
I have laid out some photos of each event with their corresponding text below. All photos that follow are by Aleksandra Skibniewska and texts by Caro Ruoff.
Gill Moses- Umbilicals.
Jill MOSES Umbilicals
Someone
breathing underneath a translucent white fabric
she is on her knees, unwrapping
a cord around her waist
and slowly
stands up
there is a washing line with clothespins
she sings
where has your mother gone?
while hanging the dirty laundry on the line
the shame – she says – age three
unrequited love
more dirty sheets
you have wet the bed
the stains of shame
years fly by
clothespins move
growing up fast
eleven
a loud banging noise and a suitcase
the cord around her waist detaches
is hung on the washing line
washing the smalls at boarding school
she’s dressed in black like the black socks
and the white knickers are stained with red
she sighs
is it shame?
it’s growing – she says – the body
in places it shouldn’t
but maybe it should
a sigh of relief
bright coloured laundry
a smile
tiny socks
oeh-ing and ah-ing
life flying by
more socks
all tiny and white
pink
blue
Rocky Meany- Embodyments
Rocky Meany
Embodyments
A big white sheet of paper
is stuck to the floor
enter a figure
head bent
dragging a curtain
a robe
he is carrying two pots
sets them down on the floor
the smell of sweat
as the curtain drops
he is naked but for his beard
and his boxers
as he walks he gets stuck in the cords of the curtain
no wait
they are tied in knots around his ankles
and now
by him
to a pillar
the curtain
becomes another sheet
on the floor
a smear of mud
on his back
every movement
a whiff of sweat
as he empties
a pot on his head
and covers himself
with mud
and charcoal
it’s dripping
down his back
like black blood
in his eyes
he rolls himself
in the curtain
movement obstructed
something metal in his mouth
a pot on his head
smashed
to the ground
and wire
twisting around
chest muddy
exposed
the string is spun
around his head
round his eyes
round his mouth
round his neck
labored breathing
labored moving
he clings to his curtain and rope
holding them like a heavy skirt
kneels
head to the floor
more charcoal with water
more dirt
his eyes are lost to the mud now
his hair black as pitch
how does he still see?
he lies down
throwing sand on himself
like burying a body
and again he is up
cuts himself free
there is no skin not wet and muddy
drops the knife in the sand
a metallic clang
and walks out.
Finbarr Dillon- ThatWhichCanNotBeCuredMustBeEndured
Finbarr Dillon
ThatWhichCanNotBeCuredMustBeEndured
A person sits in front of a laptop. Mouse moving. It starts.
Hars ringing sounds sending chills down my ears
unpleasant but beautiful too
it sounds cave like
fairytale bells
twinkling
it’s a lot
there is depth
there are sparkles
and echo’s
that sound
almost like singing
the twinkling
like knives in my brain
it moves in circles
does sound move in circles?
sounds like it
I don’t know
my ears hurt
but I don’t want to move
my stomach
unsure by the sound
louder now
intriguing
coercive
you can’t turn it of
spooky notes in the background
I try to envision a brain cave
a cave like a brain
where I am walking
all wires and signals
that speed through it’s walls
the bells
louder now
high pitched
shrill tones
fading
the sound turns darker
moves to my throat
there is sadness
it’s so loud
kids walk out
does it hurt their ears too?
The man focused. Feeding us more.
are we being brainwashed?
there are sounds that I like
and sounds that I hate
and the mix keeps moving
as a constant
movement of air
through the brain
then it suddenly stops.
Volodymyr Topiy- Performance Poetry
Volodymyr Topiy
Performance Poetry / Blood Poetry
A man. A bench. A roll of fabric.
Tiny green soldiers
like the once my dad used to play with
when he was still a kid
are put in a line
then yellow soldiers
in a pile on the floor
a boot stomps on the green guys
King’s Onion Crisps – pointing at King
the bench is turned on it’s side
he writes on the bench with green marker
E M P I R E
with King Onion on top
the role of fabric is unrolled
paintings
a skull
a torso in a suit
a torso in swim trunks
and darker stuff I can’t see
he tries wearing the EMPIRE bench
like a heavy weight on his leg
set’s it down somewhere else in the space
King Onion is emptied on the floor
smaller bags spill out
with his teeth the small once are torn
crisps in piles on the floor
are organized in neat lines
every one just as big as the other
people help
more piles appear
some crisps get eaten
slightly messy lines now
he reads invisible markings on his hands
lines the crisps up
a formation appears
tree straight lines and a bend one
one wiggles
adding some soldiers
a landscape appears
but the soldiers are lined up like the crisps
fallen over
on top of each other
markings in blue on the floor
while the smell of cheese and onion fills the air
H I P O C R I S Y
he wipes his sweat of his face with his arm
rope
thick rope
wrapped around the EMPIRE bench
with his leg stuck
in between Rope and Empire
he wears it like a plaster cast
he limbs
hops
sits down
tries to slide
stops
turns on fast classical music
moves on
with the bench
crushing the crisps
and the soldiers
removes his shirt
a black and white fist on his belly
a dragon or bird with a crown on his back.
Maria Hoyin- Licking the wounds
Maria Hoyin
Licking the wounds
She enters, mouthful
waves her face cool with a polystyrene sheet
goes out gets a trash can
moves to the back gets a table
caries it on her back eyes wide, mouthful
straightens her back sends the table banging to the floor
then empties the trash can
puts it on her head talking
yelling
blindly searching her way to the table
she is writing words now with her mouth full
words on the polystyrene sheet
tapping a pink marker on the table for it will not write
her cheeks swollen she looks at us
spelled out in pink on the styrofoam it says
suffering
she draws on her swollen cheeks
she draws on her forehead
tapping the table
while her face slowly turns pink
she turns the table on it’s side
like a thing to hide behind
the sound of a marker, writing
and the top of her head, moving
as she stands up she draws on her face
bright red lines
opens her mouth
takes something white out
a piece of paper
a shape
then another
carefully now
the next one
plucked out of her mouth
is shaped like an ‘M’
then an ‘F’
letters appear
R F U E
not an M but an E
fill in the gaps
will it spell refuge?
more white shapes
like a clown spitting balloons
it’s dead silent here
there is an ‘S’ and a ‘G
and letters are laid out on the floor
S U F F E R I N G
I was wrong
filled in the gaps
with the things I thought I knew
the table turns
905
905 what?
is it people
mabe days
days of suffering
red chili flakes
or is it glitter
she is decorating the word
using glitter like spray paint
spilling bright red dots all over the floor
as she removes the paper
the word remains imprinted on the floor
she lays down next to it
fans herself like before
but the bloody dots are not moving
fanning forcefully
glitters fly with the wind
but still traces remain.
Deej Fabyc- Revisions to Spite
Deej Fabyc
Revisions to Spite
A person in a red dress
lies on a red couch
with a pink facemask
big breasts
glittering silver high heels
holding two big
kitchen knives
as we walk in
them
looking at us
breathing
the knives moving
tilts their head
swings their legs
elegant
moves the knifes
poses like a skilled fighter
labored breathing
with the big kitchen knives
they start cutting the dress
inches
from their skin
open
chest exposed
a bra stuffed with ribs
raw meat
“dirty” they call
as they throws the silver heels to the floor
replacing them for red ones
opens a bottle of wine
empties it
on their head
dirty
removing the facemask exposes
big plastic lips and a hole for a mouth
they sticks a cucumber in
slicing it
in pieces
with the knife
swooshing
inches
in front of their face
they take the ribs out
places them on their head
changing clothes
dressing in a pink scarf around the waist
spits the lips out
strengthens mussels with fitness elastics
dresses further
a white blouse on a skin
sticky with red wine
a white straw hat
black blazer
neat trousers
manning-up now
buckling up
suit and tie
a frown on their face
breathing strongly
gives a dress to a man in the crowd
“Put it on.”
he obeys
on his knees
puts it on
they, with the suit, put their working boots on
the one in the dress gets the scarf.
P(art)y Here and Now
a participatory event
Photos above and featured on this page by Aleksandra Skibniewska.
P(art)y Here and Now
a participatory event
A distorted pop song is the cue of beginning and end
we are together, jamming, feast your eyes
so much to see, so much to hear and so much to move to
there is the flashing of a camera
there are paper cups approaching
there are words written on top
drink these words, read what they see
giving words, actions, suggestions
till this pen runs out of ink
it’s really just a bunch of people strangely (mis)behaving
watching, collecting, bending, touching
and words extending onto a piece of paper moving in space
watch someone dance
with wet hair
and a paper cup
and a tie
with a hat on
dancing with another
brightly smiling body
wait
where are they going?
with their suit and tie
with their blue dress and their
red paper cup tits
there are three sisters and an epic soundtrack
singing “aaah” – like in song
there is hair covering ears
and a mouth
singing voices
and some words get folded out of place
there is a body writing,
playing
moving
watching
stepping on toes
with bright red sparkles
and two blue butts looking
through a looking glass of paper cups
Hereand Now, Performance ArtFestival.Ennistymon
Poetic PerformanceImpressionby Caro Ruoff
what do they see?
there is waving hair
and a guitar jamming
Someone yelling “BE QUIET!”
Someone quietly responding
“no.”
there is a new start
tap dancing with the sole of its foot
a hat
breaking someones heart
and dancing curls
there is a musical astronaut
who is dreaming this madness
into existence
there is a blue alien dancing
there is more paper here and someone stealing it
are they faster than the pen?
are they stealing its words?
what is the point?
there is loud
louder
banging
someone waving a white flag
will they surrender?
or should we?
don’t stop moving – or do
because our space will run out
just like our resources
watch
that someone just standing there in the spotlight
and the three sisters resting
we are not done yet
some words get lost in chaos
a body, relaxing
unfolding the quiet
come back when you are ready.
Here and Now, Performance Art Festival.Ennistymon
Poetic PerformanceImpressionby Caro Ruoff