A Lurker's Diary
by Diana Miranda (8th April 2022)
Lately, I've come across texts that discuss accessibility in the theatre industry, which is uplifting. These primarily address BSL interpretation and captioning. Which is great. And then I think about The Broad Cloth entering that arena to broaden up that discussion with accessibility at its heart, focusing specifically on neurodiversity and audiences with ADHD. More joy.
Set to be an interactive, immersive, multimedia theatre show, to experience The Broad Cloth is to enter a world with a pulse. A world growing consistently under the principles of an Open Space and which offers opportunities to engage throughout weeks and with different extents of involvement, a little or a lot, as a character or a lurker (that last one's been me). The more you put into it, the more you get out. Although Jen transmits that whatever each person gets is exactly right and perfectly enough.
The show is currently in an R&D process. The context is introduced through a website that might as well be Skylark Island touristic info site. On the one hand, it has information about the Island, from its landscape to the traditions. On the other hand, the platform provides information about the multiple ways people may participate in The Broad Cloth's endeavours, including reflections on access (I don't say "information" because "reflections" is more accurate to the warm feeling one gets while reading about, for instance, comfort/discomfort) and a calendar with Zoom and Discord interactive sessions.
The intention at this point is to familiarise oneself ─ nay, to grow fond of Skylark Island through long-term interaction (which is what the Long Game will be for once the team puts on the whole show). That interaction with the story has taken place since March through Discord (a social gaming platform, to those who, like myself, didn’t know). People engage with the story through a storytelling style that allows chatting into character with other players and embedding inner monologues and environmental cues in the dialogues (super poetically, I might add). As such, the landscape and community are placed into the mind's eye in a more powerful way than anything that could be put on stage.
It's evident that this is quite different to a tale squeezed into a two-hour performance. Thus, the idea of the R&D, and eventually the show, isn't to attain a ticket to a performance but ‘an entry to a world’. The Broad Cloth incorporates videoconference chats and social gaming platforms, emailing with newsletters and shared documents (maps, telephone trees, resource lists…), a worldbuilding software that grows with each session (the one I called Skylark Island touristic info site), and, eventually, it will add a live performance.
I've gathered from my experience in The Broad Cloth that access is very personal. And it involves clash and intersectionality. What a person needs to be present and not anxious may differ from the next. Therefore, it requires constant sharing of experiences and, thus, the possibilities to foster access are perpetually illustrative and not limitative.
Jen started a lovely Twitter thread that explains this way better than I could and adds a squirrel playing the banjo at the end.
Enters audience. About /playing/ and /playing/
Zoom
The audience interaction started with a Zoom town meeting introducing the main characters. This open rehearsal consisted of a village meeting to discuss the complications due to the storms, such as the electricity situation or damaged roofs. It further introduced the islands' environment and its community. There were blurred lines between which characters had been previously outlined by the creative team and which were newly introduced by audience members, and the liminal space in the in and out of character state was foggy. So, it felt intriguing. It was like experiencing life. There were no perfect, preconceived frames for scenes and dialogues. However, it managed to strike a balance between a loose narrative and a stable framework. And the main reason for this is Jen's guidance, which smoothly led the way as the rest of the participants gladly went along. I remember later saying to Jen that her space-holding felt as if she was a Skylark Island Fae who knows everyone's hearts and endeavours and points at paths to discuss those very matters. Those who participated, both actors and audients, appreciated that mediation. But then ─the day I smashed my mental fourth wall and talked to Jen about all this─ we thought how it would be if the meta-space was held silently, like an invisible Fae. Fully present but faded into shadow and spirit (which mirrors the goal of an Open Space), while someone like The Chief, crucial to Skylarks' Island, brings the community together within this immersive world. Discord
The Broad Cloth has shown to be for those who enjoy interactive, long-game experiences. Particularly gaming and digital media, considering that the more extended period of interaction has been through this social gaming platform. Some of the actors role-play with audience members, who are also playing a characters of their own making. People may participate by improvising dialogues on the spot, or by bearing witness. I did that, and then Discord called me ‘idle’, which I find funny. It feels like watching a book being collectively written. I'm in awe at people's easiness to evoke vivid, beautiful atmospheres on the spot. When Discord sessions started, I tried to keep in mind who was who. That is, if the characters were part of the creative team or a newcomer. But I forfeit. Doing so distracted me from the narrative. Now I enjoy losing myself to the unfolding story. During these improvised online sessions, the community has continued to address concerns due to a big storm that has prevented transport to the mainland. There have been electricity cuts, and resources are running low. Skylark Island has attained contemporary traits that run parallel to its rural atmosphere, too. I learned, for instance, of a controversial Airbnb and of some mobile-dependent teenagers who like CSI and panic when power cuts threaten their Tik Tok intake. Discord's platform facilitates the self-organising process of an Open Space, too. Users can move as they please without a moderator micro-managing every conversation. Someone may find other characters to talk to in, say, The Public Bar chat. Or pop in the Elsewhere chat, find no one and simply move on to another spot. Or stay and type what happens to them there. There is a chat special for Accompanying, which gives people a place to take a break from playing a character and ask questions. There likes another way for the facilitator to be there, holding the space in full awareness but invisible to those in character. I've no experience in gaming, and this all seems so new to me. I try putting handles on it, but I cannot. It's like trying to put handles in life. It goes on and on. There's a schedule to give an overall idea of what's what, but there's no limitations as to when people may pop a line and play a little bit within The Broad Cloth's narrative. The FOMO
In my responses I've talked about smashing the fourth wall, but I don’t mean to say that rejecting traditional forms of theatre holds the answer. It's more about giving options in the theatre kaleidoscope so that the infinite diversity of audience members may engage in whichever way they are happy. That's what I see while experiencing The Broad Cloth. Overall, the way it has made its world accessible is through various media. Zoom allowed certain types of engagement, physical and sensorial and cognitive. Discord has enabled other ones. And the show's in-person performance shall indeed represent another one. The makers have been encouraging freedom of movement by modelling that fluidity. The aim is to avoid the fear of missing out by internalising the certainty that whenever you arrive, is the right time; and wherever you are, is the right place. As well as trusting on the role of an Accompanist (a secret friend or an invisible Fae perhaps) that listens to your preferences and points at the bits that would make your experience more satisfying. The open mobility and extended lapse of (potential) engagement clashes with the storytelling tradition in theatre. As such, The Broad Cloth's goal to increase accessibility for neurodivergent audiences is pursued by broadening the theatre concept itself. My FOMO
I wonder, however, if people may indeed avoid the regret of not experiencing the whole thing. Especially when some unexpected climax unfolds, like when someone announced during a town meeting that electricity was out not because of Mother Nature but because someone was cutting the cables. And the impact that had on the community and the Chief's spirits. If I hadn't been there, I would've felt I skipped an episode of a Netflix show. I wish I could spend more time on Skylark Island. And that ‘I wish’ resonates with a bit of a regret note in my head. There are ways to ask what happened in the Out Of Character (OCC) chats, which offer Accompanying support. But the thing is that the storytelling is so dynamic that it seems like it's always one step ahead. I also try frantically to remain on top of everything during the weekly scheduled gatherings. This endeavour requires committed immersion or, more likely, a temper that is not control-freaky like mine. Because, again, the world keeps growing. This is only me ─ a one woman's insight. Which I share because List # 3: awkwardness is very personal and situation-specific, and then List # 11: accessibility requires sharing. And then List # 3 again: the only person between comfy and awkward is me. So here I am, harmonising with my inner voices, celebrating the ones that thrive in movement, and getting my do-over of the experience. Or, a haiku I wrote after the Chief got sad. He enters gloomy room
Fearing voices grow wary
He exits, gloomy heart
The R&D chats
Being part of The Broad Cloth’s creative team feels like being in two places, profoundly interweaved but different. The one of Skylark Island's community, fictional but vibrant. And the one with theatre-makers talking about structure, funding and their grandmas. Both creative meetings and role-playing sessions develop according to the law of free mobility encouraged in Open Space environments and with someone (or more than one person) taking on the role of an accompanist, who is like a friendly guide who keeps an eye on people and provides support customised to the needs of any specific experience, whether it’s a meeting, a rehearsal space, or a show. Accompanists help deepen the understanding of the experience on a personal and collective level. For instance, Jen held the space for the meetings with constant reminders to get tea and remain cosy, while Flo wrote play-by-play transcriptions of the discussions in the chatbox to allow people to get back on track if they took a mental pause or a physical break. Jen says access is this show's heart, which is evident in how the team holds their meetings. The access accord ─the living, responsive document setting out the team's intentions for access provision with a focus on ADHD─ , the written reminders via email, the audio introductions that encourage the team to get comfy above all, the space holding…These tasks mirror the team's pursuit of accessibility in a theatre show. The team's discussions have exposed how vast the topic of accessibility is and the barriers to tackle, specifically in digital theatre. From pinning sign language interpreters to embedded audio descriptions and live captions. It's an ambitious endeavour, devising ONE show that tackles it all, because List # 11 (a never-ending one).Enters audience. About /playing/ and /playing/
Theatre, Zoom and Discord
Zoom
The audience interaction started with a Zoom town meeting introducing the main characters. This open rehearsal consisted of a village meeting to discuss the complications due to the storms, such as the electricity situation or damaged roofs. It further introduced the islands' environment and its community. There were blurred lines between which characters had been previously outlined by the creative team and which were newly introduced by audience members, and the liminal space in the in and out of character state was foggy. So, it felt intriguing. It was like experiencing life. There were no perfect, preconceived frames for scenes and dialogues. However, it managed to strike a balance between a loose narrative and a stable framework. And the main reason for this is Jen's guidance, which smoothly led the way as the rest of the participants gladly went along. I remember later saying to Jen that her space-holding felt as if she was a Skylark Island Fae who knows everyone's hearts and endeavours and points at paths to discuss those very matters. Those who participated, both actors and audients, appreciated that mediation. But then ─the day I smashed my mental fourth wall and talked to Jen about all this─ we thought how it would be if the meta-space was held silently, like an invisible Fae. Fully present but faded into shadow and spirit (which mirrors the goal of an Open Space), while someone like The Chief, crucial to Skylarks' Island, brings the community together within this immersive world. Discord
The Broad Cloth has shown to be for those who enjoy interactive, long-game experiences. Particularly gaming and digital media, considering that the more extended period of interaction has been through this social gaming platform. Some of the actors role-play with audience members, who are also playing a characters of their own making. People may participate by improvising dialogues on the spot, or by bearing witness. I did that, and then Discord called me ‘idle’, which I find funny. It feels like watching a book being collectively written. I'm in awe at people's easiness to evoke vivid, beautiful atmospheres on the spot. When Discord sessions started, I tried to keep in mind who was who. That is, if the characters were part of the creative team or a newcomer. But I forfeit. Doing so distracted me from the narrative. Now I enjoy losing myself to the unfolding story. During these improvised online sessions, the community has continued to address concerns due to a big storm that has prevented transport to the mainland. There have been electricity cuts, and resources are running low. Skylark Island has attained contemporary traits that run parallel to its rural atmosphere, too. I learned, for instance, of a controversial Airbnb and of some mobile-dependent teenagers who like CSI and panic when power cuts threaten their Tik Tok intake. Discord's platform facilitates the self-organising process of an Open Space, too. Users can move as they please without a moderator micro-managing every conversation. Someone may find other characters to talk to in, say, The Public Bar chat. Or pop in the Elsewhere chat, find no one and simply move on to another spot. Or stay and type what happens to them there. There is a chat special for Accompanying, which gives people a place to take a break from playing a character and ask questions. There likes another way for the facilitator to be there, holding the space in full awareness but invisible to those in character. I've no experience in gaming, and this all seems so new to me. I try putting handles on it, but I cannot. It's like trying to put handles in life. It goes on and on. There's a schedule to give an overall idea of what's what, but there's no limitations as to when people may pop a line and play a little bit within The Broad Cloth's narrative. The FOMO
In my responses I've talked about smashing the fourth wall, but I don’t mean to say that rejecting traditional forms of theatre holds the answer. It's more about giving options in the theatre kaleidoscope so that the infinite diversity of audience members may engage in whichever way they are happy. That's what I see while experiencing The Broad Cloth. Overall, the way it has made its world accessible is through various media. Zoom allowed certain types of engagement, physical and sensorial and cognitive. Discord has enabled other ones. And the show's in-person performance shall indeed represent another one. The makers have been encouraging freedom of movement by modelling that fluidity. The aim is to avoid the fear of missing out by internalising the certainty that whenever you arrive, is the right time; and wherever you are, is the right place. As well as trusting on the role of an Accompanist (a secret friend or an invisible Fae perhaps) that listens to your preferences and points at the bits that would make your experience more satisfying. The open mobility and extended lapse of (potential) engagement clashes with the storytelling tradition in theatre. As such, The Broad Cloth's goal to increase accessibility for neurodivergent audiences is pursued by broadening the theatre concept itself. My FOMO
I wonder, however, if people may indeed avoid the regret of not experiencing the whole thing. Especially when some unexpected climax unfolds, like when someone announced during a town meeting that electricity was out not because of Mother Nature but because someone was cutting the cables. And the impact that had on the community and the Chief's spirits. If I hadn't been there, I would've felt I skipped an episode of a Netflix show. I wish I could spend more time on Skylark Island. And that ‘I wish’ resonates with a bit of a regret note in my head. There are ways to ask what happened in the Out Of Character (OCC) chats, which offer Accompanying support. But the thing is that the storytelling is so dynamic that it seems like it's always one step ahead. I also try frantically to remain on top of everything during the weekly scheduled gatherings. This endeavour requires committed immersion or, more likely, a temper that is not control-freaky like mine. Because, again, the world keeps growing. This is only me ─ a one woman's insight. Which I share because List # 3: awkwardness is very personal and situation-specific, and then List # 11: accessibility requires sharing. And then List # 3 again: the only person between comfy and awkward is me. So here I am, harmonising with my inner voices, celebrating the ones that thrive in movement, and getting my do-over of the experience. Or, a haiku I wrote after the Chief got sad. He enters gloomy room
Fearing voices grow wary
He exits, gloomy heart
Diana's Responses
Embedded CriticismThe Three Critics
The Echo Text
The Long Read
A Lurker's Diary
Comments