On Time

We were rehearsing today, myself and my drama guys, within a tight deadline. We were only allowed one hour at the venue in which we'll be doing a performance in a couple of weeks, and we're only allowed a single booking. I'm not entirely sure how such restrictions help to promote drama as an art form and assist in young people's learning, but you learn to live with the limitations placed upon you. Indeed, there was a powerful sense of discipline in making every minute count, which we certainly did, to the credit of all concerned.
 
Which leads me to this observation. In my experience people outside what might broadly be termed the Arts generally assume that the making of said Art is somehow a fairly leisurely activity. But everything about my experience as a practitioner, as it were, indicates that a great deal of what might be considered Performance Art is generated in relentlessly breathless conditions, with the eyes of all on the clock ticking at seemingly twice its usual speed. This is an excellent way of inducing a steady flow of adrenaline and of ensuring a pounding headache, the variety that strikes once the experience is over.

It's a curious truth also that a kind of ruthless creativity is unleashed by working within unreasonable boundaries. A bit like what happens when a poet crams a world of feeling into a sonnet. I just wish that we were given more than just fourteen lines in which to work, at least once in a while.