The Luton Seven

The Hat Factory in Luton is a big old industrial warehouse replete with history. The space in which we performed had the capacity to hold eighty people, and was a simple yet beautiful black box space. We spent the afternoon walking around the town, getting to feel the environment, and to know the area. It's hard to know what we were seeing, as we only walked a few blocks in each direction, and most of what I saw was the product of globalization. Chain store after chain store, with virtually no independent vendors of any type. I saw a boy who couldn't have been more than thirteen sitting with his parents at the mall, smoking. We passed a massage parlor, a gay bar (which we went into and asked them if they knew about our performance and the woman there said she did and would "send people along"), and a very brightly coloured pink and orange merry-go-round, empty, spinning slowly to a loop of "The Grand Old Duke of York". We went back to the theatre, which by the time we'd done our walk, felt like a little oasis. We used the space to warm our voices, to feel comfortable in our bodies and to sing. At eight o'clock we walked on stage, and faced our audience of seven. Now the great thing and the difficult thing about twomentalking, is that we interact with the audience; not with their words, but with their listening. What this meant, was that there were nine points of contact for each telling, that is each audience member, Murray and Dan who was sitting in the fourth row.
I think audiences members, me included when I am one, feel invisible in the dark. In the dark as an audience member, I feel free to not react, to laugh internally, to daydream. Sometimes people reach into their bags, and even close their eyes. Usually this is not an issue, if there are enough points of contact, then those moments carry less weight. Last night, these seven people were our reason for telling, and I found it hard not to over analyze their body movements, their reaction or lack of reaction, and make meaning of these. The stories we tell are themselves vulnerable making, exposing and at times take me back to times of great isolation and fear. Being able to stand in my own story, without apology, without being distracted by other's reactions or my perception of other's reactions, is the task at hand. That is what leadership is about. Being able to trust my own truth even when others are not reflecting that back to me. Sometimes it's hard. Last night was one of those times.