The New Artwork

My most recent work is a performance where I create a fruit cocktail.
Halfway through, it dawns on me that I haven't thought up a punchline or developed a comedy persona so I am not able to be funny.  Still worse, I now see that everything about it is meaningless.

Lost Suit

It's the second half of our show and I have so much to sort out during the interval.

The auditorium is filling up with people and I need my suit so that I can watch the show with Dad.

Backstage, in my underwear, I climb along awkward ledges and through complicated makeshift corridors but can't find anything or anyone to track it down.

The Three Disgraces

1)    I haven't had time to learn the dance steps - I can't even see the other dancers to check that I am in time.

2)    I don't know any of the answers to the three questions on football.

3)    The final humiliation: I am left holding a bundle of dry twigs instead of a fine pair of antlers.

Unexpected Visitor

I am in a flat with a friend and my old dog Dilwyn waiting for someone to return. I am anxious.

Who or what are we expecting?

We see a figure at the front door window- is this my childhood home? It's Mum , but it's late, and why is she here? 

She hasn't knocked. She is on the mobile (she doesn't have a mobile). Her face is heavily made up, with bright red lips. she looks younger, different. glamorous somehow. She has been out somewhere mysterious. 

I rush to clear up because the place is in a mess.

The Important Message

I have organised a party and in Polish tradition we are each to name a cause for us all to toast. The hall grows to accommodate perhaps 250 people. Music plays and one by one each person offers their particular blessing into the mike. 

I have a short text in my notebook that I want to read.  It is the reason I assembled everyone in the first place, so I am desperate and excited for my turn to arrive. 

I ask for the deafening William Tell overture to be turned down. The audience continues chattering loudly.

"PLEASE...LISTEN," I beg them, "this is such an important message." 

And I turn to my book to find the passage, but of course the page is missing. 

Whose Script Is This Anyway?

I'm in the wings about to go onstage. My part is insignificant yet if I forget it the whole play falls apart. I frantically check my one line.

"I don't think I ever believe something I can't see," I am supposed to say.

The line makes no sense to me yet I am putting so much effort into quoting it correctly.

The Fourth Presenter

I am one of four presenters at the artists' Trade conference in Boyle. I am very nervous about it.
The first artist is a young confident man. His notes are organised and complex but he seems remote.
The second is a woman who is anxiously stacking piles of cards up on her desk.
I am the third. Totally unprepared. Doing something about a drawing massage exercise. I am asked by the facilitator what would your massage fantasy be? I'm a bit thrown and say something awkward back.
As I drew this dream I became conscious of the presence of an invisible fourth person next to me. There is real strength there and he is the core of this dream.

Black Wedding

Chris and I have discovered that Maggie is getting married and has invited loads of friends but only mentioned it to us at the last minute. Everyone arrives in smart black outfits with Maggie in a long elegant black dress and her hair recently "done". Feeling underdressed, we go through the formalities of saying how gorgeous she looks, although Chris particularly is really upset not to have been asked beforehand. We head off to another appointment.

What Do You Do When You Forget Your Lines?

I am playing a part in a Greek tragedy. As usual there I am on stage and it is my turn to speak and I have forgotten what to say.
After a long pause, I whisper to the rest of the cast, "It's ME - does anyone know my lines?" No-one does so I just sing da-da-da-da-da. I get everyone else to join in with me and the play is in chaos.
Afterwards the director is furious with me -this is the last time I will be employed as an actor. I am so ashamed. X tells me that he would never forget his lines or that if he did he would just make them up. "Yeh but its easy to make up your words when you're playing in a porn film," I retort.

Lecture On Self Organisation

I need to leave. I've got so much to do. A TV presenter dressed in yellow is delivering a talk on organising your self and your home. I am interested - I need it - but she comes in with sheaves of untidily written notes and she's so young that I can't trust anything she says. She starts to lose peoples' interest, and two young women, either high on drugs or with mental problems, are charging around the room jumping up on the chairs. "I'm waiting!" she threatens like a school ma'am very ineffectually. All the time I am thinking - I have to go, I've got other things to do...

Working To A Deadline

I am in some kind of jail. Two female prison officers approach me - I have been warned about this. They pin me to the wall using an old fashioned strap for knife sharpening . I have to endure a series of painful punishments - if I cry out the sequence will recommence. I hold my breath ; I am determined not to make a sound although I know the punishment grows in severity.

Screaming Tantrum

I am in my old teenage bedroom checking through my notes for a physics exam tomorrow. I didn't write anything in sentences, just broken English that makes little sense suggesting I have just guessed at answers to difficult theoretical questions. I fly into a rage, throwing books and bottles at anyone who comes near. "Leave me alone!! I need to concentrate," I scream like a kid having a tantrum letting rip to such an extent that it becomes peculiarly enjoyable.

Another Lost Script

I am about to go on stage to open the play. I have the leading role and although I know my part reasonably well, I have a terrible habit of feeding the wrong cues to the rest of the cast. With one minute to go I decide I am going to have to keep a script on me throughout. I frantically search the dressing room but can't find a copy of it anywhere.

Vanishing Ticket Office

C and I are in an airport about to pass through Customs. C gets in the queue, but why did I think I didn't I need to and why didn't I even bring my ticket? I follow the one arrow to the ticket office but it seems to disappear. I walk for miles trying to find it. As time goes by I am aware that C will be worried. I am unable to ring him because of my stubborn refusal to carry a mobile.

Doomed Lecture

Have arrived early in the morning to give an illustrated talk on my work. An enthusiastic crowd is gathering asking daft questions like Where do you plug in your camera ? (In the computer, I reply.) Gasp of admiration. They should be an easy audience.
"I 'll just get the video tape and then we can begin," I say.
I rummage through the contents of my suitcase - loads of weird things inside: bundles of electrical components, a small black book, and a plastic superman bound up in sellotape. But of course NO tape. I have nothing to show.

Unsure Of My Entrance

Once again I am waiting in the wings of a theatre for my cue. I know this show well. The dialogue is all familiar. The problem is I have no idea when I am due onstage. I rifle through the untidy pile of stage notes to work out the timing of my entrance. Can't find it - I'll just have to climb up through the trapdoor and chance that I'm not too far off.

Tying Up Loose Ends

Christine and I are walking down the corridor in my primary school past Mr Powell's office. I tell her I always like this final stage of a project because you can just sit back and let it fall into place. She looks incredulous, knowing that we are way behind with our work load.

First Dream Diary Lecture

In a dark claustrophobic room I am preparing to give a talk on my work. I haven't done so for a few months and my disorganised notes are spread out on the trestle table behind me. A woman in an evening gown introduces me after singing a cheesey cabaret number. I feel nervous and unsure of myself.

Preparation For Flight

Everything is conspiring against my catching a plane for Berlin :
1) My students have given me bulky presents to take with me - that's extra baggage charges when I only intended taking hand luggage.
2) I am already one hour late and can't work out how to get into the airport.
3) It takes me ages to find my ticket. Eventually I fish it out of the bottom of my purse - a tiny scrap of newspaper.
And 4) I have forgotten Thomas' telephone number in Berlin and he has no idea I am coming today. Where will I stay?