People make theatre - in Hiroshima

We're in what I call the cooking stage of the Grandchildren of Hiroshima.


There is concentrated application and these are long rehearsals - on Saturday and Sunday we worked for 7 hours in 30 degree heat. But as they say, 'if you can't stand the heat get out of the cooking metaphor'*. There is also broad ownership - last night four different participants stepped up to direct scenes as we recalled them from the workshops in April.

But even as we cook, new people are joining. I was worried the cast lacked any older people, then out of the blue a lady of some years, came to watch. After watching for 3 hours, smiling and sometimes correcting details (how a scarf was worn, how a word is said), we asked her if she could read the  words of a woman who had described being trapped in a collapsed building. The words went with a simple image of an upturned table being slowly lowered on to a young girl. Her delivery carried the soft force of the older voice. The scene pierced the heart. She has joined the cast on the understanding that she can read rather than memorise her text. Deal.

Also watching that day were Fuji and her 7 year old daughter Hikaru. Now I thought they had said they couldn't be in it, I thought they had said they were going on holiday. But no, 'we might be able to be here'. The mother is keen - and the mother enjoys performing. But Hikaru is very very shy. They too watch for a couple of hours. We're staging a scene about a girl who's parents ran an inn where soldiers stayed. The soldiers would give the girl sweets, and the girl would take them to school - and at that time sweets were rare. The school scene has 4 children in it, all between 8 and 11. One has to leave rehearsal early. Will Hikaru step in ? we ask. She's watched the scene several times. She knows about sweets, she knows about school, she brings her expertise into play and she's in.

The company is a blend of experience and first timers. It requires generosity from all. When you watch this group in action it's like watching an ideal. There's a weight, an authority that comes from these citizens. And as they tell this story they gently help each other to tell it as well as they possibly can.

*At Bubble we use a painfully extended food metaphor to describe how we make Vernacular Theatre...

First we forage for ingredients - in this case we've got 20+ personal stories from people who survived having an atom bomb dropped on their city, facts about how you make an atom bomb, facts about what that sort of bomb does, a map of the 7 rivers of the city, a lot of pictures, a lot of fabric, a lot of everyday objects, around 20 performers, a team of technicians, a team of encourager/fixers and a venue.

Then we take all the ingredients and prep them - workshop their tastes, look at fusions, season lightly with Yorie's neutral puppets, then find out what is fresh and what might be a bit off.

Then the recipe writer (Misaki) comes up with the script. 19 pages currently - dialogue, images, different forms of voice, loads of meaty and meaningful parts. Loads of the ideas that were tried when we prepped. And the recipe designer (Yasuko) frames these visually - in this case a traverse space flanked with houses on stilts and flowing cotton drapes.

Then we cook.

Next week we will serve up the feast.

Meanwhile in London, South Africa, Palestine, Belgium, Pune, Milwaukee and Wimborne Minster, groups will be holding public readings of the script of Grandchildren of Hiroshima. We've called this small endeavour Hiroshima Dispersed. Go to https://www.facebook.com/events/933166890074856/
or #hiroshimadispersed to find out more.