This weekend I went to the 'Roar of the Crowd' a conference about theatre audience research. We were a crowd, because there were a few of us. I'm not sure if we roared but some people made noise. Not myself I have to admit as I would never dream of speaking at such events.
The different types of noise that we all made is my focus here. There were three types of roars, if you will, in the room which I want to talk about; the academics consistently wordy, the artists speedily wordy and the third was the baby who was not quite wordy. The baby belonged to an academic who gave the opening address, highlighting key contexts and ways of considering theatre audiences as a frame for the day. She was handed her baby at the end of her talk and then for the rest of the event sat at the back, baby in lap, keen to listen, as this was her specialism to all of the days speakers, despite the inevitable distractions that a baby can bring.
This made me think of my friend , a theatre practitioner and teacher who has just had a baby. She was keen to try and make it to some of the shows in the Brighton Fringe as she normally does, her baby doesn't cry often, so she decided to bring him to see 'The Little Prince', a student production with people she knew. The room wasn't devoid of children noises. The child behind me farted quite proudly at one point over the period of about five minutes. This wasn't a problem, it was part of the fun of the event. However there were long periods of silence and the snuffling gurgles that don't feel loud at home can sound like a nuclear explosion in the quiet of the theatre, she left after ten minutes and spend the rest of the show waiting outside for us to come out.
I felt for her. She has a year maternity and doesn't want to dissappear. She is obviously limited, and it wouldn't be fair to inflict baby noises on those who have paid good money to hear a show, but does she have to dissappear completely? Bring Baby to the cinema events are a wonderful resource for this, but it made me think about theatre that would actually benefit from the presence of bringing a baby rather than just accepting a baby is there and hoping for the best. What form might this type of theatre take? A sci fi show which somehow draws on themes of invisibility and visibility when you become a mother, with babies the machines draining their battery like mother cells. Maybe not.
This thought of speculation relates back to the final speech of the day, cleverly summarised by Liz Tomlin. She described the danger of artists addressing the need for diversity. Artists should make the stories that they want to tell, it is up to funders and academics to worry about catering to diversity. However perhaps this needn't be stifling; Could providing theatre for a specific audience who would not normally got to the theatre, babies for example, be inspirational rather than restrictive?
The presence of a baby in the room, may have bothered some people, but, others, especially the easily distracted artists (Tim Crouch; fascinated by everything, Ramin Grey; fascinated by his phone) found it a pleasure to have such fresh faced company and it meant that we got her mum Helen Freshwater's company too, without whom we would probably never had such a good introduction to the day.
The different types of noise that we all made is my focus here. There were three types of roars, if you will, in the room which I want to talk about; the academics consistently wordy, the artists speedily wordy and the third was the baby who was not quite wordy. The baby belonged to an academic who gave the opening address, highlighting key contexts and ways of considering theatre audiences as a frame for the day. She was handed her baby at the end of her talk and then for the rest of the event sat at the back, baby in lap, keen to listen, as this was her specialism to all of the days speakers, despite the inevitable distractions that a baby can bring.
This made me think of my friend , a theatre practitioner and teacher who has just had a baby. She was keen to try and make it to some of the shows in the Brighton Fringe as she normally does, her baby doesn't cry often, so she decided to bring him to see 'The Little Prince', a student production with people she knew. The room wasn't devoid of children noises. The child behind me farted quite proudly at one point over the period of about five minutes. This wasn't a problem, it was part of the fun of the event. However there were long periods of silence and the snuffling gurgles that don't feel loud at home can sound like a nuclear explosion in the quiet of the theatre, she left after ten minutes and spend the rest of the show waiting outside for us to come out.
I felt for her. She has a year maternity and doesn't want to dissappear. She is obviously limited, and it wouldn't be fair to inflict baby noises on those who have paid good money to hear a show, but does she have to dissappear completely? Bring Baby to the cinema events are a wonderful resource for this, but it made me think about theatre that would actually benefit from the presence of bringing a baby rather than just accepting a baby is there and hoping for the best. What form might this type of theatre take? A sci fi show which somehow draws on themes of invisibility and visibility when you become a mother, with babies the machines draining their battery like mother cells. Maybe not.
This thought of speculation relates back to the final speech of the day, cleverly summarised by Liz Tomlin. She described the danger of artists addressing the need for diversity. Artists should make the stories that they want to tell, it is up to funders and academics to worry about catering to diversity. However perhaps this needn't be stifling; Could providing theatre for a specific audience who would not normally got to the theatre, babies for example, be inspirational rather than restrictive?
The presence of a baby in the room, may have bothered some people, but, others, especially the easily distracted artists (Tim Crouch; fascinated by everything, Ramin Grey; fascinated by his phone) found it a pleasure to have such fresh faced company and it meant that we got her mum Helen Freshwater's company too, without whom we would probably never had such a good introduction to the day.
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