The last few weeks have been a bit of a creative blur! Visiting the archives a couple of weeks back triggered a multitude of ideas, and teamed with weekly visits to the Grandstand, performance concepts have gradually been unearthed. The easiest way to relay this process is through numbering each significant discovery:

1. During one of our earlier sessions, it was required of us to bring a gift to the Grandstand. I brought my perfume, which is in the shape of an apple. At this point, I was blissfully unaware of the significance apples would have upon my work!
2. On the 5th of February 1918, 5000 leaflets advertising war bonds were dropped over Lincoln. (Information courtesy of the Lincoln Archives!). I loved this idea of a mass of objects overwhelming the spectators, but wasn’t sure of how to achieve it myself.

3. It was proposed that the Grandstand be used as a mortuary to accommodate the casualties of war in Lincoln. The drawn up plans included a Sluicing Room, which Verity mistook as a slicing room!

4. I started to explore into the idea of the Grandstand being the ‘core’ of a number of experiences, questioning if “it is possible to be in a place without realizing its significance for the groups of people who have historically inhabited it” (Pearson, 2010, 24).

Upon reflection, each of these ideas could in fact link directly back to apples. Apples have a core that isn’t eaten, whereas the rest of the apple is gradually eaten away; it serves its purpose, but doesn’t disappear completely. The Grandstand cannot be destroyed because of it’s pillars. Structurally they are the buildings core, “stag[ing] and fram[ing] those who inhabit it’s space” (Pearson, 2010, 21).

Most hilariously, I am in fact unable to eat apples in their original state. Biting an apple risks me breaking my artificial teeth, therefore the only viable option is for me to slice them. Slicing an apple whilst it’s core is still in tact proves to be very difficult, so you have to remove it. But, in terms of the grandstand, each ‘slice’ of history within it is individual, and it is ignorant to think that we can appreciate the site without stripping it down to it’s core.

References:

Pearson, M. (2010) Site Specific Performance. Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan.

Dear Grandstand,

The archives taught me that the RAF plane manufacturers pulled each of their planes from the Ruston’s factory on Monks Road all the way to you for testing. As the men were all away fighting, this appeared to be the job of the female workers… I know I definitely would not have had the strength to do that! I found it particularly amazing that the 1000th plane – built in Lincoln – was bombed mid air, fell a couple of feet uncontrollably, then regained control and flew back to base despite the excessive damage. Even more amazingly, a letter was written including a picture of the damaged plane, that asked the image be framed for the workers to realise their outstanding craftsmanship. You housed that craftsmanship and watched its first flight.

Yours sincerely,

Alice Saxton

The Grandstand took us to new heights this week… literally!
Having spent the morning using ourselves to fill neglected ‘spaces’ within the grounds, we came across a rusty, metal fence missing about six of its bars. A fallen down tree had, by chance, placed itself within the gap, almost attempting to fill the void – much like those who had refurbished the Grandstand into a community centre. Upon moving inside to continue our exploration, we found ourselves purposely looking for signs of decay and neglect within the refurbishment, “even when the scene of the crime is pristine we are forced to look at the dirt in the gaps” (Pearson, 2001, 62). We found ourselves (accidently) delving further into this multifaceted concept of ‘the fallen’ as a result:
We first attempted to photograph a piece of paper falling to the ground. We then discovered a small, high ledge in what seemed to be a neglected bathroom. After a group struggle to get me onto the filthy, black ledge, I found myself fearing I may fall. However, the only way down was to ‘fall’ until the group could catch me.

As Tuan states, “architectural space reveals and instructs” (1997, 114), therefore our performance became a combination of our experiences, physically demonstrating the risk of a ‘fall’, whether it be the definitive fall of a horse in a race, the fear of a soldier falling at war, or merely the fall of a building that was once imperative to a community.

References:

Pearson, M. and Shanks, M. (2001)Theatre Archaeology. London:Routledge.

Govan, E. Nicholson, H. and Normingtonm, K.(2007) Making a Performance. Coxon:Routledge.

“Landscapes told as a distribution of stories and dramatic episodes, or as repertoires of lived practice, can be creatively recut, embroidered, and still sustain original narratological integrity” (Lorimer, 2006, 515).

Friday was our first official visit to the Lincoln Grandstand, and most probably the coldest day we have seen this year so far! Despite the freezing temperature, we ‘found’ our way around the site, indulging in its architectural beauty and historical grounding.

Previous discussion in Thursday’s seminar led to in depth thoughts surrounding the term ‘found’; Is the site ‘found’ historically/geographically? Is ‘finding’ something an individual experience, or is it a collective effort? Can we argue that inspiration and/or objects ‘found’ on site are actually OURS? This leads me nicely into the idea of people creating temporary tenancies in regular everyday life. If we are, for example, to enter a train and sit down, naturally we allocate ourselves seats. If we then were to leave briefly, and return to find someone else sat in said seat, we claim that the seat is ours and that they are in fact intruding on our ‘site’, as it were. But we all know that the seat doesn’t actually belong to us.

Whilst wandering around the Grandstand, this idea of temporary tenancy thoroughly interested me. There were visible remainders of previous ‘tenants’ everywhere, either suggested by objects left behind (more recent), or by memorials on the wall (older). Sadly, “it is possible to be in a place without realising its significance for the groups of people who have historically inhabited it” (Pearson, 2007, 24), however I refuse to be ignorant any longer, and I am excited to delve further into who these tenants may have been, the stories they have to tell and how they will shape our artistic discoveries.

References:

Lorimer, H. (2006) Herding memories of humans and animals. Environment and Planning D:Society and Space.

Found in: Pearson, M. (2010) Site Specific Performance. Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan

I know very little about the Grandstand. In fact, towards the beginning of the week I was calling it by the wrong name, ‘The Bandstand’, and therefore had no idea of its actual purpose and location, let alone its historical value. I have never visited the site, only coming into contact with it when driving past into Lincoln. My flatmates and I believed it to be a football stadium… not too far off I guess! During the week I have heard various information surrounding the Grandstand, my favourite being of it’s resident ghost. I wonder if, with further research, this could be an interesting starting point for our project?

The uncertainty of the module itself makes me rather anxious, so I’ve been trying to find ways of channelling my anxiety into possible ideas; uncertainty within our performance could work well in our favour, hence the mentioning of possible hauntings/spirits etc. The building (from pictures) appears to be quite isolated, and with our traditional, ‘beautiful’ English weather prowling over the site I imagine it can sometimes appear severely ominous. However, I am extremely excited to pay my first visit to the stand with a small group of others later this week, and to see whether my derelict vision of the Grandstand drastically changes.