I was lazily flicking through my autumn/winter 2010 copy of .Cent magazine last night and stumbled across this extract from Richard Milward, incidentally the guest editor for the issue. It's taken from the writer's second book Ten Storey Love Song and demonstrates something called 'automatic writing'. A continual flow of seemingly arbitrary words, it's completely natural rather than painstakingly put together to resemble a stream of consciousness piece like, say, Virginia Woolf did.
Anyway, I love it and am now off to order Milward's first two books immediately.
'One psychedelic afternoon in September Bobby the Artist accidentally swallows ten tabs of acid while sitting on the toilet. He starts mumbling to himself, gurgling, the shapes of sinks becoming white elephants with beady winking eyes, and the clownfishes on the bath curtain darting about chattering to each other. For a minute he thinks he's Salvador Dali, growing a curly moustache in the mirror. Hola! Salvador laughs - he can't even tell if his eyes are open or shut or not. Freaking out, Salvador put his head in his hands, serving another gust of Chanel into his sleeve. Watch out Sal, here comes the automatic writing! Holistic chicken made tea don't you hedgerow all oil trousers ink sprayed salmon on its chest possibly a frog leopard print snout man looking grumpy boulevard legs eleven prostitute hamsters won fifty pounds at a masquerade after leaving four cups of juicy lemon spiked a nut on the dame of Duke York post-natal dream dismay and a forehead keeps singing on the phone to conker forest of evil and wormy stretch ouch bastard gondolier tra la la Cornetto Tonga hand grenade hooray hippo snarling under grasp only showing no remorse for the budgie that sung sweetly so sweetly but died after having injection to the neck holy water tomato onion banana ketchup see-saw then Ellen Ellen Ellen. "Bobby, what are you doing?" Ellen asks, stepping into the bathroom and it's really her, not a mirage...'
AMAZING.
Wednesday, 18 May 2011
Friday, 4 March 2011
Andy Scott feature
The Heavy Horse outside Glasgow
If you ever thought the sheer size of public art was due to some arbitrarily stubborn whim relating to the creative vision of the artist, then prepare to be disappointed.
"People want to know where the hell all the money went," Andy Scott laughs. "It has to be visible."
Visibility is certainly a key factor in the sculptor's work. Indeed, most would find the sight of an extravagant steel creature rather difficult to ignore.
The internationally renowned artist was commissioned last year by East Staffordshire Borough Council to construct two large sculptures for Uttoxeter.
The two pieces have been positioned at either end of Town Meadows Way, with the intent of creating a 'point of arrival' into the town.
Intensive research went into planning the two sculptures with the help of Uttoxeter's locals. Workshops in local schools and an exhibition at the Midlands Grand National soon inspired a number of designs based on local people's thoughts and impressions of Uttoxeter.
"We got a very positive response from the locals," says Andy. "We tried to incorporate their ideas so that the pieces have a degree of relevance. You have to be sensitive towards the ambiance of a town. You don't want something that is too out of place.
"So it was important to engage with the local people to find out what makes the town tick and how they want to see Uttoxeter represented."
The Angel of Thanksgiving in Belfast
The main themes that were voiced by the locals throughout the consultation process were that of Uttoxeter's rural location and agricultural history, particularly surrounding the old cattle market, and an equine inspiration, due to the prominence of Uttoxeter Racecourse.
As a result, the first roundabout features a centaur, with a raised wing to indicate speed, and the hybrid man dressed in the distinctive garb of a jockey.
Whilst the wing is an obvious nod to Uttoxeter Racecourse, it is also a direct response to local street names. When conducting research in local schools, many school children mentioned the number of streets that are named after birds.
“I thought it was a subtle way to reference that,” Andy explains. “Of course, there is the nearby River Dove too, and I also reference one of my own favourite sculptures, a Victorian bronze called ‘Perseus Arming’ by Sir Alfred Gilbert.”
Furthermore, the finished sculpture of the centaur will incorporate stars as an allusion to jockey silks, as well as having celestial and astronomical suggestions.
Meanwhile the second roundabout exhibits a bull, signifying the town's agricultural past. Posed towards the other sculpture, its heavier bulk acts as a balance to the centaur.
The Staffordshire knot will be included in an extravagant floral garland draped around the bull’s neck.
“This is my idea of suggesting a celebration of respect for nature and livestock that we usually take for granted,” confides Andy, “and hints at ancient multi-cultural mythologies and customs.”
Both structures are made of galvanised, welded steel and lit up in the evenings.
The money for the two sculptures was earmarked specifically from the Tesco development in Uttoxeter.
"I'm delighted to have the two pieces in Uttoxeter and can't wait for people to enjoy them," says Andy. Apart from an artist’s impression of the structures, details were largely kept under wraps before the grand unveiling.
"I like to put different aspects of narrative into the sculptures," he remarks. "Hence the inclusion of the Staffordshire knot into the bull, or the wings on the centaur. It allows the public to invent their own interpretation of the artworks.”
Arabesque in Queensland, Australia
And while it is important to Andy to integrate ideas from the public in his work, he is keen to stress his own artistic licence too.
“I like to incorporate suggestions from local residents but it can often lead to a situation where the artwork is trying to please everybody, and in the end the quality of the sculpture is diluted. It is increasingly important to me that the artworks are distinctive and a fair representation of my own practice as a professional artist, not simply a fabrication of the ideas of others.
“There is no artistic challenge in that. I take hints and ideas, and then work them into my own impressions of what would make a valid artwork for a particular location.”
Andy's phenomenal portfolio of work really does speak for itself. He graduated from Glasgow School of Art in 1986 with a BA (Hons) in Fine Art Sculpture and a post graduate diploma the following year.
He is an associate of the Royal British Society of Sculptors and has so far created over 70 public sculptures and architectural detailing commissions, in a variety of media for a broad range of clients.
The production of the centaur and bull for Uttoxeter has been a lengthy process.
Once the piece has been designed, a full-size steel linear frame is made that creates the structure to which small steel plates are formed.
"That stage is critical in the design of the sculptures and is done free-hand," Andy adds. "I am proud to say we don't use any computer aided design, it is all bespoke."
The steel sections are then cut and formed around the frame, and any further design decisions are made at this stage.
Finally, the sculpture is galvanized and ready to install.
"It is months of hard labour," Andy stresses. "That makes it sound easy, but it takes a long, long time."
The Pheonix in the Easterhouse area, Glasgow
Uttoxeter should be proud to have such a distinctive artist constructing such works of art for the town. Andy's prodigious output has included work that has travelled as far afield as Belfast, Brisbane, Scotland and Spain.
His first influential piece was The Heavy Horse in Scotland. Situated on the edge of the M8 between Glasgow and Edinburgh, this model of a Clydesdale horse has become one of his best known constructions.
Other dramatic sculptures from the artist include a fiery phoenix in the Easterhouse area of Glasgow and Arabesque, an enlivened sculpture of a horse for an exhibition at Currumbin Beach in Queensland, Australia.
East Staffordshire Borough Council are confident that Andy's work for Uttoxeter will be regarded with the same respect as his other structures.
"This has been a long and detailed process but we felt it was worth the time and effort to try and engage the whole town in the project so people in Uttoxeter can feel proud of these sculptures," says Councillor Bernard Peters, the deputy leader for service commissioning.
"Andy is an internationally renowned public artist with a particular talent for capturing the magnificence and beauty of these majestic animals, and I am sure the finished works will be every bit as stunning as those he has created for other towns and cities."
"I'm looking forward to coming to Uttoxeter for the installation," Andy concludes. "It's a charming town. I really do enjoy the excitement of working on public art. I feel it is our duty that art should be seen by as many people as possible, and I am always on the lookout for new challenges.
"I am a great believer in art having the widest audience possible."
Andy Scott at work in his studio
Monday, 28 February 2011
Hoofy
A few weeks ago I was commissioned by Dazed & Confused, a publication that I have a huge amount of admiration for, to interview the artist Iris Schieferstein, who breathes a new sense of purpose into the lifeless animals that construct her artwork. These tools are taken to the laboratory of the artist, where they are recomposed and stitched together with the mastery of taxidermy. The creatures do not appear deformed or lacking in grace, but instead are of a measured and sublime physical shape that leads the observer into a surreal and fabled reality. The artist discusses life, death and getting her knuckles rapped by the police in her homeland, Germany, below or you can travel to Dazed & Confused's website and read the piece there.
What attracted you to working with dead animals?
My interest in using animals began in 1990. I was thinking about what we eat whilst I was preparing some fish. They are like garbage. They can’t eat or sleep or whatever. Then I started with chicken, because they look a little bit human-like. I started using them because of the nature of making and fixing, but also to create another material from the animals too. Of course, you could create them for a practical purpose, but for me it’s an artwork.
Do you think your art re-animates the animals in some way?
Somehow, it looks alive. In the beginning I put them in liquid, and straight away there seems to be a life. This is a very old, traditional thing; like if you go to a museum. I work in a very traditional method. You’ve had the Egyptians and the Greeks who used to preserve animals in the past, and I think somehow my work reminds you of that. It’s a game of thinking, ‘what is behind that?’ It will always figure in our history.
Do some people find your work shocking?
There might be some people who find it shocking, but it’s not really all that shocking because you can feel it everywhere; what you eat, what you’re wearing… This is all animal. If you worked in a slaughter house, then that experience would be shocking. I don’t think I’m shocking. I just try to get in touch with people in a different way. The audience can approach it from any direction they want.
Have you ever faced any criticism for your art?
When I began working with dead animals I would pick them up from the street. But these animals are protected by the government in Germany, and so after ten years they tried to put me in prison. It’s forbidden to show them or make art with them in Germany. All these free animals that used to live in the city or the country… You can go to jail for almost six years for doing what I did. It’s absolutely absurd. On the other hand, they will cut the horns off of a cow in Germany. I cannot follow or understand these things. There are so many rules in Germany that are absolutely stupid.
What dictates how one particular animal will be used in a piece?
It really depends on what’s in my mind, but they are always more than one thing. It depends what influence you have in your circle and what you’re looking for.
Is your work open to interpretation?
Absolutely. I always try not to explain. Somehow I like to think of my artwork as a kind of explanation in itself. These are my words to use, to show people what you can think, or to send them in another direction. If something touches you, you just start thinking. Every artwork is carrying something for the people that decide to get in touch. I hope that people do get in touch with my artwork and feel inspired by it, and perhaps start to question certain things.
What attracted you to working with dead animals?
My interest in using animals began in 1990. I was thinking about what we eat whilst I was preparing some fish. They are like garbage. They can’t eat or sleep or whatever. Then I started with chicken, because they look a little bit human-like. I started using them because of the nature of making and fixing, but also to create another material from the animals too. Of course, you could create them for a practical purpose, but for me it’s an artwork.
Do you think your art re-animates the animals in some way?
Somehow, it looks alive. In the beginning I put them in liquid, and straight away there seems to be a life. This is a very old, traditional thing; like if you go to a museum. I work in a very traditional method. You’ve had the Egyptians and the Greeks who used to preserve animals in the past, and I think somehow my work reminds you of that. It’s a game of thinking, ‘what is behind that?’ It will always figure in our history.
Do some people find your work shocking?
There might be some people who find it shocking, but it’s not really all that shocking because you can feel it everywhere; what you eat, what you’re wearing… This is all animal. If you worked in a slaughter house, then that experience would be shocking. I don’t think I’m shocking. I just try to get in touch with people in a different way. The audience can approach it from any direction they want.
Have you ever faced any criticism for your art?
When I began working with dead animals I would pick them up from the street. But these animals are protected by the government in Germany, and so after ten years they tried to put me in prison. It’s forbidden to show them or make art with them in Germany. All these free animals that used to live in the city or the country… You can go to jail for almost six years for doing what I did. It’s absolutely absurd. On the other hand, they will cut the horns off of a cow in Germany. I cannot follow or understand these things. There are so many rules in Germany that are absolutely stupid.
What dictates how one particular animal will be used in a piece?
It really depends on what’s in my mind, but they are always more than one thing. It depends what influence you have in your circle and what you’re looking for.
Is your work open to interpretation?
Absolutely. I always try not to explain. Somehow I like to think of my artwork as a kind of explanation in itself. These are my words to use, to show people what you can think, or to send them in another direction. If something touches you, you just start thinking. Every artwork is carrying something for the people that decide to get in touch. I hope that people do get in touch with my artwork and feel inspired by it, and perhaps start to question certain things.
Monday, 21 February 2011
Journey's End feature
It seems only appropriate that I am forced to go on a literal journey of discovery for the text Journey's End.
Rising at 6am on a dark January morning to travel to Vimy, north France, was certainly an eye-opening experience.
It was to be a tour of the locations that had inspired the monumental play by R. C. Sherriff, Journey's End. From the dramatic Vimy Ridge to the awe-inspiring Notre Dame de Lorette, the sights that had such a vital impact on Sherriff's text were all explained with the aid of David Grindley, who is directing the upcoming stage production.
Brought to life in 1928 by R. C. Sherriff, Journey's End is an important play. Its insistent tension, which quietly bubbles under the surface throughout the three acts, and astonishing commentary on the human condition is, even today, movingly pertinent.
Set in the trenches of Saint-Quentin, Aisne, in 1918 before the end of the First World War, Journey's End consists of a group of British officers on the front line. The play begins with the arrival of Raleigh, an 18-year-old officer fresh out of English public school, to the besieged company, which is led by a man named Stanhope.
As the plot unfolds, we discover Raleigh knows Stanhope from his former public school days. Three years older than Raleigh, Stanhope was previously his 'hero'.
The central crux of the story is driven by the transformation that Stanhope has undergone during his time on the front line...
Stanhope, left, and Osborne in Grindley's production
Journey's End has had an enormous influence on director David Grindley.
Following its original success when it was performed in 1928 (with Laurence Olivier at the helm as Stanhope, no less), the play became a staple in theatre for some time. However, each progressive interpretation of Journey's End gradually became tired and a little uninspired.
It wasn't until Grindley successfully revived the play in 2004 that the production breathed a stunning new lease of life.
The production received rave reviews, ran in London for many months, went out on tour twice and even travelled to Broadway.
Now, Grindley is bringing Journey's End back to theatre-goers who wish to have a second helping. Under an entirely new cast, Journey's End will be showing at Stoke's Regent Theatre from Tuesday, March 29 to Saturday, April 2.
"It's an amazing piece and I can't seem to leave it alone," says David. "It's been such a big part of my life. With the first production we were only meant to play eight weeks - in the end we played 18 months!"
It was David's original trip to Vimy himself that inspired his re-telling of the story to such a powerful extent.
"If you look at pictures of the original production, it's quite spacious and has a theatrical feel. I was very keen to make it real. It's a play with a very real context and that's something I've researched with my designer, going out to France, visiting Vimy Ridge and other sites. We wanted to know just what Sherriff's battalion had been through."
The intense power of Journey's End lies in the fact that Sherriff himself served in the First World War.
He went to war with his local regiment as a 20-year-old subaltern. Arriving in France in September 1916, Sherriff was stationed here for ten months before he was invalided home with facial wounds received in the opening battle of Passchendaele.
The play is founded upon his experiences while fighting alongside 'C company' of the 9th Battalion of the East Surrey regiment.
Importantly, it is worth noting that this trip did not take me to where Journey's End itself is set but rather where Sherriff himself fought.
"When I first did the play I came back in an absolute blind panic that I didn't know enough about the First World War," explains David. "Fortunately I realised that I just need to know about what this group of men went through. I'm not wanting to be ignorant, but I want their knowledge to be very specific. I don't want them to know everything."
As I disembark at Vimy Ridge, the colossal effect of war is still marked across the landscape.
In March 1916 the trenches here were taken over by the British. The area had been one of aggressive mine warfare between the French and Germans, and this bombardment continued to ravage the site.
Each side continually tunnelled under enemy lines in an attempt to create underground chambers that could be filled with explosives, destroying whatever lay above them.
The ground has been utterly disfigured by the intense mine warfare. Craters litter the land; huge depressions in the earth that expose the strength of the explosions.
Craters made by shells and mines at Vimy Ridge
Gazing out across this battle-scarred scene, I can't help but feel incredibly small. How soldiers managed to stand up against this level of bombardment is baffling.
"When I was there for the first time, I really had a sense of looking out over the distorted landscape," David considers. "At the time, it would have just been mud, no greenery, desolate and completely devastated. Your senses would have to negotiate with the smallest bit of beauty: bird song, blue sky, beautiful sunlight on your face...
"The smallest things will become absolutely essential to maintaining your humanity in that hell hole."
The main impression Vimy Ridge forces upon the mind is just how all-consuming the war environment must have been; attacking the senses and playing cruel tricks on the mind.
This is demonstrated to great effect in the underground tunnels of Vimy Ridge. The chalk in the ground below made it an ideal area for tunnelling and extensive networks were constructed, eventually creating a system that extended for many miles and included headquarters, hospitals and communication centres.
These tunnel systems allowed troops to move about in safety below ground, and it was possible to accommodate 11,000 men in underground barracks. Conditions were dank, cramped and cold.
At one point while I traverse the confined tunnels, the lights are switched off. Suddenly, it is as if all that is good has been sucked out of the world in the fraction of a second; it is disorientating and, quite frankly, frightening. An unpleasant reminder of how bleak life must have been in these conditions, the descent into darkness is only temporary as the switch is quickly pressed back down and light floods the underground trench once more.
"The intimacy of the living conditions, the oppressiveness, the claustrophobia..." David Grindley struggles to convey the physical and mental challenges that the soldiers would have had to face. "The British and Germans have absolutely distorted and re-created that landscape. It is a completely different environment now than it would have been before the war."
The director feels the play is one of endurance.
"I'm very aware of seeing these characters as ordinary people. Cultural and social barriers break away. They recognise that the only people they can trust to survive is each other. This is a play about these men binding together in the light of these psychological pressures to make the best out of the situation they're in."
Trenches at Vimy Ridge
When Raleigh enters the company in Journey's End, the character Osborne warns him that he will find his childhood hero Stanhope much-changed from how he remembers. 'You know you mustn't expect to find him quite the same,' Osborne utters in one telling line of the text. 'You see, he's been out here a long time. It tells on a man - rather badly.'
As a coping mechanism, Stanhope has sought comfort in an unrelenting supply of whiskey.
"We can't imagine what it must have been like for Stanhope: all the losses he encountered, all the men that served under him and had been slain on his watch," says David.
"It's a tipping point, and only whiskey can insulate him from his experiences. It's not fear, it's just the sheer weight of responsibility that he feels for all the men serving with him."
Each individual copes with the terror of the front line in a different way.
Osborne listens. He emerges himself in other's tales, so as to direct his thoughts away from the horrors of the war.
The character Trotter tells jokes. Laughter is his medicine, a means of escaping the stark reality the soldiers find themselves in.
And then there is Hibbert; someone who finds the ordeal of war impossible to comprehend. In one of the most unnerving scenes of the play, the primitive instinct of fight or flight is tested between Stanhope and Hibbert.
"Hibbert is utterly desperate," says David. "He has no moment-by-moment diversion, so he can't find any way of mitigating his fear.
"A salient point to remember is that these are men and women, just like us, who find themselves at the front line."
As we move on to the the Notre Dame de Lorette, this becomes ever more obvious.
The Notre Dame de Lorette
The Notre Dame de Lorette is a huge ridge that, at its peak, stands at 165 metres high.
During 1914 and 1915, the French fought a series of battles in the area, known as The First, Second and Third Battles of Artois. In 1916 the British took over from the French, fighting a series of local engagements and then launching a crucial attack on the Germans during The Battle of Arras in 1917.
Now, the Notre Dame de Lorette is also the name of the site for the French National Memorial and Cemetery.
Shockingly, the cemetery contains almost 40,000 graves - half of which are unknown soldiers - and an ossuary containing the bones of those whose names were not marked.
The chapel and lighthouse tower dominate the ridge, which was one of the major objectives for both sides due to its vantage point.
Seemingly limitless lines of graves have been erected with a simple cross headstone. Even now, it is as if these soldiers killed in the war are standing to attention in strict, regimented rows, with the proud buildings acknowledging their sacrifice at the front.
40,000 graves in the cemetery at the Notre Dame de Lorette
"That concentration of the dead really affects me," comments David.
In one scene in Journey's End, Stanhope speaks of looking up at a wall of mud compacted in front of him. He sees 'the worms wandering about round the stones and roots of trees'.
"He's not just talking about worms," David says heavily. "The earth is alive. He's talking about worms going through the eye-sockets of skulls. He can see bones... the dead that's accrued over the last four years of the war. It's that kind of visceral impact that I had when I was in the cemetery for the first time."
To the rear of the cemetery is a war museum, containing the rusted artefacts of artillery and barbed wire that were used during the First World War.
"The sheer physicality," David stresses. "The metal is so heavy, so dense. If you had that exploding and any small bit hitting you, the potential damage is very difficult to come to terms with."
The kind of heavy machinery used in the First World War
The trauma that everyday men must have faced is unimaginable.
In Journey's End, the two central protagonists Stanhope and Raleigh are only 21 and 18-years-old respectively, a fact that is brutally hammered home by the young cast that performs Grindley's intense production.
"It was very important in the casting that hopefully young people will come to the show and recognise Stanhope and Raleigh are representing them," says David. "It's a moment to reflect on what you would do if you were put in their shoes."
Stripped to its core, David claims Journey's End is the story of two boys. "It's about Raleigh having a baptism of fire where he realises Stanhope is as human as everyone else. He's flawed, and not as perfect as you think he is. It's their story."
As my time in France comes to an end, I cannot help but think it is 'our' story. Journey's End is a play that speaks of camaraderie, trust and asks just what makes a 'hero'.
The tale of these two young men is a concentrated story of experience that expands from one to the many; not only the numerous brave men that fought in the First World War, but to all of us as ancestors of these great men that created our life as we know it today.
Surveying the great sea of graves at the peak of Notre Dame de Lorette, it is clear that their story needs to be told.
18-year-old Rayleigh in Grindley's production
Journey's End is showing at Stoke's Regent Theatre from Tuesday, March 29 to Saturday, April 2. To book tickets, visit www.ambassadortickets.com/stoke or call the box office on 0844 871 7649
Rising at 6am on a dark January morning to travel to Vimy, north France, was certainly an eye-opening experience.
It was to be a tour of the locations that had inspired the monumental play by R. C. Sherriff, Journey's End. From the dramatic Vimy Ridge to the awe-inspiring Notre Dame de Lorette, the sights that had such a vital impact on Sherriff's text were all explained with the aid of David Grindley, who is directing the upcoming stage production.
Brought to life in 1928 by R. C. Sherriff, Journey's End is an important play. Its insistent tension, which quietly bubbles under the surface throughout the three acts, and astonishing commentary on the human condition is, even today, movingly pertinent.
Set in the trenches of Saint-Quentin, Aisne, in 1918 before the end of the First World War, Journey's End consists of a group of British officers on the front line. The play begins with the arrival of Raleigh, an 18-year-old officer fresh out of English public school, to the besieged company, which is led by a man named Stanhope.
As the plot unfolds, we discover Raleigh knows Stanhope from his former public school days. Three years older than Raleigh, Stanhope was previously his 'hero'.
The central crux of the story is driven by the transformation that Stanhope has undergone during his time on the front line...
Stanhope, left, and Osborne in Grindley's production
Journey's End has had an enormous influence on director David Grindley.
Following its original success when it was performed in 1928 (with Laurence Olivier at the helm as Stanhope, no less), the play became a staple in theatre for some time. However, each progressive interpretation of Journey's End gradually became tired and a little uninspired.
It wasn't until Grindley successfully revived the play in 2004 that the production breathed a stunning new lease of life.
The production received rave reviews, ran in London for many months, went out on tour twice and even travelled to Broadway.
Now, Grindley is bringing Journey's End back to theatre-goers who wish to have a second helping. Under an entirely new cast, Journey's End will be showing at Stoke's Regent Theatre from Tuesday, March 29 to Saturday, April 2.
"It's an amazing piece and I can't seem to leave it alone," says David. "It's been such a big part of my life. With the first production we were only meant to play eight weeks - in the end we played 18 months!"
It was David's original trip to Vimy himself that inspired his re-telling of the story to such a powerful extent.
"If you look at pictures of the original production, it's quite spacious and has a theatrical feel. I was very keen to make it real. It's a play with a very real context and that's something I've researched with my designer, going out to France, visiting Vimy Ridge and other sites. We wanted to know just what Sherriff's battalion had been through."
The intense power of Journey's End lies in the fact that Sherriff himself served in the First World War.
He went to war with his local regiment as a 20-year-old subaltern. Arriving in France in September 1916, Sherriff was stationed here for ten months before he was invalided home with facial wounds received in the opening battle of Passchendaele.
The play is founded upon his experiences while fighting alongside 'C company' of the 9th Battalion of the East Surrey regiment.
Importantly, it is worth noting that this trip did not take me to where Journey's End itself is set but rather where Sherriff himself fought.
"When I first did the play I came back in an absolute blind panic that I didn't know enough about the First World War," explains David. "Fortunately I realised that I just need to know about what this group of men went through. I'm not wanting to be ignorant, but I want their knowledge to be very specific. I don't want them to know everything."
As I disembark at Vimy Ridge, the colossal effect of war is still marked across the landscape.
In March 1916 the trenches here were taken over by the British. The area had been one of aggressive mine warfare between the French and Germans, and this bombardment continued to ravage the site.
Each side continually tunnelled under enemy lines in an attempt to create underground chambers that could be filled with explosives, destroying whatever lay above them.
The ground has been utterly disfigured by the intense mine warfare. Craters litter the land; huge depressions in the earth that expose the strength of the explosions.
Craters made by shells and mines at Vimy Ridge
Gazing out across this battle-scarred scene, I can't help but feel incredibly small. How soldiers managed to stand up against this level of bombardment is baffling.
"When I was there for the first time, I really had a sense of looking out over the distorted landscape," David considers. "At the time, it would have just been mud, no greenery, desolate and completely devastated. Your senses would have to negotiate with the smallest bit of beauty: bird song, blue sky, beautiful sunlight on your face...
"The smallest things will become absolutely essential to maintaining your humanity in that hell hole."
The main impression Vimy Ridge forces upon the mind is just how all-consuming the war environment must have been; attacking the senses and playing cruel tricks on the mind.
This is demonstrated to great effect in the underground tunnels of Vimy Ridge. The chalk in the ground below made it an ideal area for tunnelling and extensive networks were constructed, eventually creating a system that extended for many miles and included headquarters, hospitals and communication centres.
These tunnel systems allowed troops to move about in safety below ground, and it was possible to accommodate 11,000 men in underground barracks. Conditions were dank, cramped and cold.
At one point while I traverse the confined tunnels, the lights are switched off. Suddenly, it is as if all that is good has been sucked out of the world in the fraction of a second; it is disorientating and, quite frankly, frightening. An unpleasant reminder of how bleak life must have been in these conditions, the descent into darkness is only temporary as the switch is quickly pressed back down and light floods the underground trench once more.
"The intimacy of the living conditions, the oppressiveness, the claustrophobia..." David Grindley struggles to convey the physical and mental challenges that the soldiers would have had to face. "The British and Germans have absolutely distorted and re-created that landscape. It is a completely different environment now than it would have been before the war."
The director feels the play is one of endurance.
"I'm very aware of seeing these characters as ordinary people. Cultural and social barriers break away. They recognise that the only people they can trust to survive is each other. This is a play about these men binding together in the light of these psychological pressures to make the best out of the situation they're in."
Trenches at Vimy Ridge
When Raleigh enters the company in Journey's End, the character Osborne warns him that he will find his childhood hero Stanhope much-changed from how he remembers. 'You know you mustn't expect to find him quite the same,' Osborne utters in one telling line of the text. 'You see, he's been out here a long time. It tells on a man - rather badly.'
As a coping mechanism, Stanhope has sought comfort in an unrelenting supply of whiskey.
"We can't imagine what it must have been like for Stanhope: all the losses he encountered, all the men that served under him and had been slain on his watch," says David.
"It's a tipping point, and only whiskey can insulate him from his experiences. It's not fear, it's just the sheer weight of responsibility that he feels for all the men serving with him."
Each individual copes with the terror of the front line in a different way.
Osborne listens. He emerges himself in other's tales, so as to direct his thoughts away from the horrors of the war.
The character Trotter tells jokes. Laughter is his medicine, a means of escaping the stark reality the soldiers find themselves in.
And then there is Hibbert; someone who finds the ordeal of war impossible to comprehend. In one of the most unnerving scenes of the play, the primitive instinct of fight or flight is tested between Stanhope and Hibbert.
"Hibbert is utterly desperate," says David. "He has no moment-by-moment diversion, so he can't find any way of mitigating his fear.
"A salient point to remember is that these are men and women, just like us, who find themselves at the front line."
As we move on to the the Notre Dame de Lorette, this becomes ever more obvious.
The Notre Dame de Lorette
The Notre Dame de Lorette is a huge ridge that, at its peak, stands at 165 metres high.
During 1914 and 1915, the French fought a series of battles in the area, known as The First, Second and Third Battles of Artois. In 1916 the British took over from the French, fighting a series of local engagements and then launching a crucial attack on the Germans during The Battle of Arras in 1917.
Now, the Notre Dame de Lorette is also the name of the site for the French National Memorial and Cemetery.
Shockingly, the cemetery contains almost 40,000 graves - half of which are unknown soldiers - and an ossuary containing the bones of those whose names were not marked.
The chapel and lighthouse tower dominate the ridge, which was one of the major objectives for both sides due to its vantage point.
Seemingly limitless lines of graves have been erected with a simple cross headstone. Even now, it is as if these soldiers killed in the war are standing to attention in strict, regimented rows, with the proud buildings acknowledging their sacrifice at the front.
40,000 graves in the cemetery at the Notre Dame de Lorette
"That concentration of the dead really affects me," comments David.
In one scene in Journey's End, Stanhope speaks of looking up at a wall of mud compacted in front of him. He sees 'the worms wandering about round the stones and roots of trees'.
"He's not just talking about worms," David says heavily. "The earth is alive. He's talking about worms going through the eye-sockets of skulls. He can see bones... the dead that's accrued over the last four years of the war. It's that kind of visceral impact that I had when I was in the cemetery for the first time."
To the rear of the cemetery is a war museum, containing the rusted artefacts of artillery and barbed wire that were used during the First World War.
"The sheer physicality," David stresses. "The metal is so heavy, so dense. If you had that exploding and any small bit hitting you, the potential damage is very difficult to come to terms with."
The kind of heavy machinery used in the First World War
The trauma that everyday men must have faced is unimaginable.
In Journey's End, the two central protagonists Stanhope and Raleigh are only 21 and 18-years-old respectively, a fact that is brutally hammered home by the young cast that performs Grindley's intense production.
"It was very important in the casting that hopefully young people will come to the show and recognise Stanhope and Raleigh are representing them," says David. "It's a moment to reflect on what you would do if you were put in their shoes."
Stripped to its core, David claims Journey's End is the story of two boys. "It's about Raleigh having a baptism of fire where he realises Stanhope is as human as everyone else. He's flawed, and not as perfect as you think he is. It's their story."
As my time in France comes to an end, I cannot help but think it is 'our' story. Journey's End is a play that speaks of camaraderie, trust and asks just what makes a 'hero'.
The tale of these two young men is a concentrated story of experience that expands from one to the many; not only the numerous brave men that fought in the First World War, but to all of us as ancestors of these great men that created our life as we know it today.
Surveying the great sea of graves at the peak of Notre Dame de Lorette, it is clear that their story needs to be told.
18-year-old Rayleigh in Grindley's production
Journey's End is showing at Stoke's Regent Theatre from Tuesday, March 29 to Saturday, April 2. To book tickets, visit www.ambassadortickets.com/stoke or call the box office on 0844 871 7649
Thursday, 17 February 2011
Victory!
Following the remarkable scenes of uprising against Mubarak in Egypt, today has seen another political triumph - but this time for the British. The government's u-turn on the unnecessary selling off of the public forest estate should be greeted with giddy elation. These are some of our most valuable natural treasures, a constant source of escapism and enlightenment. In times when so many people feel disenchanted, stripped of their own democratic voice, then there is truly cause to celebrate this victory. It has shown that we do have a say, and our country would be a far more engaging and liberal place if we decide, every day, to clear our throats and speak that little bit louder.
Tuesday, 1 February 2011
Sunday, 9 January 2011
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