Being a coward

Given that I'm a coward, launching into improvised theatre without a plan seems a tad - what's the word - foolish. So get over the jitters I thought writing about them would be a good start. But hang on, I've dispensed with writing. No safety net. Bang! Get it on stage! Isn't that what this is about? What the hell, start with a contradiction. I suspect it'll be the first of many.

The idea? It came from ackowledging the power of the internet - access to the world's cumulative imagination is tremendously powerful - for good or ill. (Ill I know all about, trust me)

Given that the world seems to conduct its business online, I'm not alone in this realisation, but I honeslty haven't seen it demonstrated, or captured anywhere outside the teenager-in-his-bedroom experience. (Even if the teenager is Stephen Fry.)

Nobody to my mind has captured the instant feedback loop the phrase "online" implies through performance. Internet related performances either simply use the internet as a broadcast medium (cheaper then TV) or remain resolutely one way (the result of hours spent alone in front of a keyboard, mic or webcam). The very opposite of here and now.

In a sense I'm bored with theory and spectating, not enough practice and engagement. It's the same as any new technology I guess. Theatre is still doggedly burning coal, and looking at solar panels with nothing more than approving curiosity.

So, what to do about it? In defiance of the aforementioned inner self obsessed teen I am going to collaborate. Fill a room with people and ask them for help. I know they will look blankly at me wanting help, direction and leadership and I will do my best to oblige. We'll get there.

As a reassuring aside, Peter Brook reminded me the other day, through a book rather than in person mind, that directing is essentially lying about knowing where you're going. In the dark.