A review of Voidspace Live (in association with Theatre Deli), by Neil Willcox
Voidspace Live was an interactive arts festival, and you may be wondering, what is an interactive arts festival[1]? Here’s what I saw.
First a reading of interactive poetry in the café, with Wes Viola leading the audience through a forest to a dragon, with voting and dice rolling from the audience. Myself telling the tale of a turtle as it moved around the screen. Jo Gasford took things on a more serious direction, as the audience voted on how to deal with the two wolves inside you. Mark Ward also had people voting, his interactive book of sonnets, Faultlines, detailing many possible ways a relationship didn’t end.
Then Strings, a dance performance in which the dancer is controlled by the audience. Through our phones we selected limbs and the devices on the dancer told them which to move. The audience having become part of the performance, the dancer aware of the situation, she in turn began to influence us in return. The immediacy – and the music – in the live performance were great, the design of the show making us complicit in our control of a person who is a puppet.
A LARP – Live Action RolePlay, where five of us we took on roles in a futuristic courtcase, The Judgement Of Soloman run by Jenny Dunn. My sleazy corporate evil scientist managed to spill the beans at the last moment and so lost the case. It was good, being a bit of a villain is fun.
The Unbearable Disappointment Of Branching Narrative: Why Live Interactivity Needs A Different Approach, a masterclass with Owen Kingston. Let me be honest here; I don’t recall why I signed up for this as I’m not making interactive theatre. Still shorn from the specifics[2], there was a lot to learn. Owen runs Parabolic, a leading and innovative interactive theatre company. Rather than a branching narrative they use a simplified beat sheet used for Hollywood movies (see Save The Cat by Blake Snyder). A lot to think on, and in his criticism of branching narratives, I see some ways forward with them. State your thesis negatively!
For my final event I went to Emily Carding’s Richard III, A One-Person Show. One person? Emily plays Richard III (at the start of the show Richard, Duke Of Gloucester), in this riff off the Shakespeare play. Members of the audience are other characters. I picked up Sir William Catesby and spent the start of the play trying to remember, who the hell is Sir William Catesby?[3] The play progresses as we expect, with Richard plotting, monologuing, occasionally handing out stickers to tell who has died. Crowns are moved about, Richard making asides. To be in the space is very immediate – Richard was in the centre of the audience who lined all four sides of the room, moving about, sometimes addressing someone directly, sometimes generally, sometimes talking to themselves. If you were to ask me about one thing you should go to that I experienced at Voidspace Live – a live event, inherently unrepeatable – it would be this show. And get in the queue early, see if you can be a named character.
For contact details and official descriptions, please see the official program. Please go and look at it. It’s very informative.
[1] Perhaps the best way to explain is to link to this interview with Katy Naylor, the Producer of the event, by Leo Doulton
[2] A lot to agree with; for example he shrugs at the idea of using AI to run immersive theatre. Why would he want AI to do that? He loves running these things, he wants AI to clean his house and do his dishes. I also don’t want AI to write my stories. But I’m a very different person; I drafted this report in my head while doing the dishes; mundane things that occupy my hands not my mind are part of the process.
[3] Here’s the thing; my Mum’s from Stratford-upon-Avon, Shakespeare country; as a teen I saw many plays at the Swan theatre from right up in the top on stand by tickets. My Dad’s from Leicester, I have family just down the road from Bosworth Field where Richard III was killed [SPOILERS?]. Richard being found and dug up and identified was big news. I really should have been up to speed on this. And worse than that; I’ve read history and fiction based on the Wars Of The Roses interminably. It wasn’t until I was on the train home that night that I remembered. There’s a famous rhyme, “The Catte, the Ratte and Lovell our dogge rulyth all Englande under a hogge.” Catesby was the catte, Sir Richard Ratcliffe the ratte, Viscount Lovell the dogge (a wolf was one of his symbols), Richard III’s closest supporters. Richard himself was the hogge, referring to his heraldic symbol of a white boar. The writer of the rhyme, William Collingbourne, was executed, a rather harsh criticism, the offence probably aggravated by his efforts to facilitate the landing of Henry Tudor’s army to depose Richard.
A Tip Of The Iceberg
Here’s some things that people told me about. There was a workshop/game where they created a future world. One of them kept putting negative ideas in (moon cannibals?) but the rest wouldn’t have it, they kept making it nicer and nicer.
There was an interactive opera where they were a cult who worshipped an uncanny king. I was told about this by more than one person and I still don’t know what happened.
There was a generative poetry workshop. The steward, who was observing from the back and thankfully had nothing that needed doing, was able to join in. This was the first time they’d made any poetry since they were at school; it was surprisingly straightforward.
There was another interactive opera ritual where they made a future world. Or was that the first one and I’m mixing up details? (I’m told this was the same thing; We Sang/I Sing with Leo Doulton and CN Lester, though one or two bits I thought were this turn out to be from another event, probably) Here’s the thing; everything I went to was cool. Everything I didn’t go to, people were saying things that were even cooler. You could avoid me the entire festival and have a fantastic time. A better time maybe!
And that’s without the in between bits. There was a table of games and activities to do, many familiar from the Voidspace website. A display of tiny things with tiny descriptions. Post it notes with pens for people to write their own mini-ideas on. Various pieces on tables and walls. A set of menus that did not match the café’s wares (at one point orders being taken by a mystery waiter who I’m told was not one of the staff).
There were rooms with laptops linking to Voidspace pieces, bringing the website into the live space. And many of the paper displays had QR codes as well. Outside the events it felt very close to the website. (Not all of these worked as hoped I’m told)
An Introvert Writer In a Festival Of Extrovert Performers
There’s a lot of nonsense said about “introverts are like this/ extroverts are like that.” So let me just say that many people there came out of events energised and bubbling. I’d done a reading at the start and a performance is a full body exercise, even when you’re just reading from a bit of paper in front of you for five minutes. After taking part in something I generally wanted to stop and think about what had happened. It’s not that I didn’t enjoy it, it’s that I wanted to process it a bit.
Which was fine, there were half hour gaps between events to allow presenters to pack up and set up, so I had the opportunity. There was a designated calm room for that matter, which I didn’t take advantage of. Because there were people there I wanted to talk to (and people who wanted to talk to me; my visual poem was made in an engine called bitsy so I had a few conversations about that, telling people about it). I wouldn’t say I missed out on exploring the displays – thanks to being there for set up and tear down I got at least an outline of everything. Still, I could have explored more if I’d wanted to.
Here’s probably as good a time as any to note how well it was worked out. Registration took a bit of time, with so many possible activities to sort out for each person. It wasn’t helped in my case by my preparation for my reading leading to me having entirely forgotten what I’d requested in advance. It was sorted out. As a punter no problems; as a performer I could not ask for more from the production staff and Theatre Deli.
A Creative’s Conference
I hadn’t met anyone at Voidspace Live in person before. A couple of people I’d talked to several times online, others I’d crossed paths with in various lit spaces. Most of them (most of you) were strangers until we met.
As it turned out I wasn’t a stranger for long; at the start I read something in front of most of the crowd. It’s a good introduction, I recommend it. Several people spoke to me throughout the day, asking me about bitsy, the program my visual poem was made in. I was woefully unprepared [4]. I think I may have tried to explain how a pantun or pantoum works at some point, without having the printout available, apologies to whoever that was. Here’s my explainer on Ghost Turtle.
I’m not being overly modest if I say that of the people there presenting, performing, teaching, facilitating, I’m not one of the most talented and qualified. There was a wealth of expertise, knowledge, charisma and more. Just amongst the readers at the poetry, Mark runs a poetry magazine and has written and performed plays; Jo is an award-winning writer and editor who teaches Shakespeare; Wes is a prize winning poet and a former bard of Glastonbury[5].
Interactivity brings us all together, blurs the difference between audience and performer. There was a similar experience in between events. We’re all here at the same festival. I was up in front of all of you earlier, now I’m standing in the queue next to you. It was easy to chat (maybe too easy, sorry if I started explaining how bitsy or poems work to you at length), so we got to know a bit about how and why we were there.
And afterwards, working with the stewards to clear things up, I got to hear something of how it had gone behind the scenes (pretty smoothly, because of the hard work of preparation; mostly Katy, the load-bearing central pillar; the other staff holding down the moment by moment needs; and all of us being used to working on a shoestring and improvising).
Those of us who made it to the pub afterwards were pretty excited. (So many people who I’d just met or wanted to talk to had to go! They had work to do on Monday!) As I noted, I wanted time to think. But not everyone’s like that. I was there when Katy introduced two people to each other, before I wandered away to the other end of the table. When I went back an hour later the two of them were planning a queer opera that sounded absolutely AMAZING.
The point is this: the idea of Voidspace Live was to bring together all sorts of things in the interactive space. Different types of events, genres, media, workshops, games, theatre, music, more. Not all of them fit together neatly, and that’s the point; if they did someone would have put them together already. I’ve gone away with pages of ideas. I know others have as well. And so…
I feel a manifesto coming on.
[4] Here’s the bitsy page: make.bitsy.org It should come up with a box on the left with links to a get started, a tutorial and a FAQ page. Bitsy is a very simple engine; three colours on screen at a time, 8×8 pixel tiles, 2 frame animation. It is these constraints that make it such a fruitful creative ground! Monthly bitsy gaming jams take place; Adam Le Doux who created bitsy and runs them can be found on itch.io and also Cohost. Many, many bitsy games can be found on itch.io, let me point you to one by my friend mumbles that uses colour in a very clever way, and is also almost unbearably cute, Docent Duck And The Chroma-Thief
[5] Me? Well the whole point of this is not to be intimidated. But if I were to put a few paper qualifications down, I have written and published novels, I’m a submissions reader for an online magazine, I’ve been nominated for a poetry prize and my work is listed in the Internet Science Fiction Database. Minor achievements but real ones. If you see me, I’m just some guy, come up and say hi.
A Call To (Inter-)Action
Voidspace Live was a success. It was a success on the surface level, a group of people interested in live interactive arts getting together and seeing a broad range of possibilities, and having a great time exploring them. It was a success in getting a wide range of creators and performers together and seeing what others are doing, and sparking ideas of their own. It was a success in blurring the lines, between enthusiasts and professionals, between audience and actors, players and games.
So what now? I don’t have any insight into how it works behind the scenes. Still, the major constraints are time and money. The expertise and talent’s there (my god the talent’s there). If currently the will and organisational capabilities are mostly through Katy[6], if she can put future events together, and people can get the time and money, the momentum and experience gained can spread the load.
I was stuck a little when it came time to fill in the feedback form[7]. Did I have ideas on how to improve the event? I did have ideas but I wasn’t sure they would be good. For example creating a thread that links approaches, so a discussion of theory, followed by that theory put into action. Yet the strongest aspect of Voidspace Live was the eclecticism. That you’d go to one thing that was a game everyone was playing, then a performance where you were in the audience, a junior partner where your reactions lightly influenced what was going on.
Another idea is a slightly chiller session where creators might get together and swap ideas, compare experiences. A slightly more structured version of the pub afterwards. Again though, that wasn’t in the spirit of the event, where we were all part of it. And it’s probably a me thing, performers want to perform, I’m the one who wants to sit and think about it.
Look, I’m just a guy who went there and had a good time. I can’t make anything happen. Still, if you attended and haven’t filled in a form, please do. It helps! If you went there and saw what I did and want to know about poetry or bitsy or anything else I might have said, hit me up. I like talking about this stuff.
And in the absence of efforts assisting in putting another Voidspace event together, maybe that’s a way forward. We should stay in contact. Promote each other’s work. So here is my suggestion for another Voidspace Live; some way to contact each other. A card swap, a message board, an email list? So if you saw me and thought, I want to know more about that guy’s stuff, you don’t need to track me down.
If the real Voidspace Live was the friends we made along the way, then maybe we can figure out a regular way to get together. I probably need to go away and figure this out. Or maybe better yet… collaborate with someone who has ideas. Interact with another human being.
It could catch on.
[After I submitted an early version of this essay the Void now has a Discord server to connect people interested in interactive arts]
[6] A force of nature to put this all together
[7] Hence this essay, sorry about that
Appendix A, Me And Voidspace Live (1)
I was invited to perform at Voidspace Live by Katy Naylor, the Void In Chief, whose brainchild this was. As such I am a fully paid-up lackey. More than this, I encouraged Katy when she set up Voidspace as an online interactive litmag, and was solicited to provide a piece for issue one.
So I’m a regular contributor to Voidspace. It fills a valuable niche between artsy games and experimental literature. Between? Overlapping, surrounding, exploring the space that extends beyond. I am in a minor way an advocate for its mission.
And Katy’s my friend so there’s that too. If you were looking for an objective observer…
Here’s the thing that interactive arts do, on paper, on screen, but even more live. It blurs the line between performer and audience. We are part of the performance, drawn into the conversation. Made complicit. I can’t review this, report on what happened from an unbiased perspective, a view from nowhere. That’s not how interactive art works. That’s not how any art works.
Anyway, full disclosure, I thought Voidspace Live was good.
Appendix B, Me And Voidspace Live (2)
What am I taking away for my own work and discipline? If I want to present an interactive work in person, it would be a good idea to build that in from the start. Even if it spends most of it’s time as something on a computer or phone screen, with a reader working through it alone, having it designed from the ground up to be a presentation will make it much easier to adapt.
Similarly, if I design something to be a poster on a wall, or a booklet or zine on the table, having that as an intention from the start will be useful. I’m putting this down as a plan; submit at least two new interactive items to Voidspace, one of which can be presented, one of which can be a physical item. Preferably well before another live event emerges.
These go for non-interactive work too. Can this be read? What if it was an object?
Having read a poem with the word “bitch” in front of a six-year-old child at the event, I’m thinking about my “Kid-Friendly?” note that sits on my ideas page. (Voidspace Live was for adults; said child was festival family there for the opening.) And the inverse; I should consider if something ought to be deliberately adult, in both the sex-violence-and-swearing and the complex-and-tough-themes ways, and go all in on it.
In another guise I write Swords and Sorcery fiction, and specifically I’m part of the loose movement trying to bring it forward into the 21st Century[8]. A particular challenge with this in the interactive space is that Dungeons And Dragons exists; and so does Baldur’s Gate, Skyrim, Dragon Age; and so do numerous fantasy LARPs. Is there any significant ground left uncovered I could bring to Voidspace, Live or Online? I won’t know unless I try. And if I do maybe some of the people from that world could be convinced to join in and add to the party.
Something brought into focus by how people respond to various works live is accessibility. Most of my writing is formatted online to be able to change size and be machine readable. Still, that’s a minimum bar to clear, I can do more, and if I plan it that way from the start, as part of the process, it can be done without an unmanageable workload. There might be conflicts (for example with three different flows of information visually on a screen, on written words, and spoken); still with forethought they can be minimised.
And finally, collaboration. My friend who has done the heavy lifting of testing my games and interactive fiction lives in America, seven timezones away. It works out pretty well; still, that’s no good for live. Again, more contact with the cool people I met at the festival!
[8] Here Swords And Sorcery is a term of art for a sub-genre; if you put Robert E Howard’s Conan stories at one end of a line and J R R Tolkien’s The Lord Of The Rings at the other, Swords And Sorcery (S&S) is around the Conan end. That’s the simple explanation.
You want more? Okay, cribbing from Brian Murphy’s Flame And Crimson, Swords and Sorcery has most of these elements: protagonists of (physical) action; with personal, often mercenary motivations; opposed by dark magic; plot and adventure prioritise over worldbuilding or depth; yet based strongly on history and historical fiction; drawing from early horror and weird fiction; generally stories are on the shorter, pacier side; and lastly that our protagonists are outsiders, usually getting on poorly with authority and civilised mores.
Hopefully this description lets you see some of the virtues, outsider heroes who can’t save the world, but aren’t powerless when dark magic, evil wizards and gruesome monsters fall upon them. Plus physicality, pacy action, weird pseudo-history. It shouldn’t be abandoned to those using it portray unpleasant caricatures of the worst aspects of masculinity. Anyway if this sounds at all interesting, check out New Edge Sword And Sorcery and download issue #0 for free; there’s some fantasy steppe adventure, a Soul And Sword (African) story, some eco-fantasy, several queer S&S characters and some essays to clue you in to what’s going on better than I can in this footnote.