The Playwright in Residence: A Community's Storyteller

Author(s): Amanda Stuart Fisher

Source: TDR (1988-), Vol. 48, No. 3 (Autumn, 2004), pp. 135-149
Published by: The MIT Press
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The

Playwright

Residence

in

A Community's Storyteller

AmandaStuartFisher

Tellingstoriesis as basicto humanbeingsas eating. Moreso, infact,for

whilefood makesus live, storiesarewhat makeour lives worthliving.
-Richard Kearney(2002:3)
In his book On StoriesRichard Kearney argues that the art of storytelling is
not only a definitively humanactivity but also one that helps us to make sense
of the lives we lead. He proposes that story or narrativeenables us to give shape
to the disparatecomponents of existence; our memories, experiences, and encounters are made comprehensible and therefore, perhaps, "communicable"
through our ability to organize and galvanize them into a narration. He says,
"In this way, storytelling may be said to humanisetime by transforming it from
an impersonal passing of fragmented moments into a pattern, a plot, a mythos"
(2002:4).

What are the ways that collective storytelling becomes a communityforming activity, where individual and communal identity is negotiated and
explored? What are the interactive exchanges between the storyteller and
community? The structure of this relationship discloses the basis of an ethics
of practice for the playwright in residence. Traditionally, storytelling is an interactive event; a community's concerns, values, and problems are represented
and enacted through a narrative. Lived experience is thus given meaning and
transformed into a source of knowledge, understanding, and wisdom. The
transformation of lived experience into "story" requires a process of interpretation and it is through this interpretation that experiences are brought to consciousness, enabling people to develop a more critical understanding of their
lives.
The process of mimesis, an enactment and transformation of actuality into
narrative form, was traditionally a communal activity. Together the community participated in a shared exchange of experience and collective interpretation, becoming the scribes and therefore the agents of history. Kearney says:
It is, in short, only when haphazardhappenings are transformed into
story, and thus made memorableover time, that we become full agents of
The Drama Review 48, 3 (T183), Fall 2004. ? 2004
New York University and the MassachusettsInstitute of Technology

135

136 AmandaStuartFisher
our history.This becominghistoricalinvolvesa transitionfromthe flux
of eventsinto a meaningfulsocialor politicalcommunity-what Aristotle andthe Greekscalleda polis.(2002:3)
This processof collectivemeaning-making,exchange,andstory-weavingis
of colan actionthatenablesthe communityto forgea coherentunderstanding
who
lectiveidentityandintersubjective
know
In
theyare
agency. effect,people
when they become "fullagentsof our history"(3) and havea consciousand
criticalcomprehensionof the eventsthathaveformedandshapedthathistory.
Kearneyarguesthat this processof (hi)story-makingand its role in the formationof identityis sharedby the individualandthe community:
Whatworksat the level of communalhistoryworksalsoat the level of
individualhistory.When someone asksyou who you are,you tell your
story.Thatis, you recountyourpresentconditionin the light of past
memoriesand futureanticipations.Youinterpretwhereyou arenow in
termsof whereyou havecome fromandwhereyou aregoing to. And so
doing you give a senseof yourselfas a narrative
identitythatperduresand
coheresover a lifetime.(2002:4)
This suggeststhatstorytellingandnarrativeenablesindividualsto considerand
critique their own subjectiverelationshipsto the communityof which they
are part. This is particularlyrelevantwhen negotiatingcontemporarycommunities,which areoften no longer homogenoussitesof organic"commonality" but a constellationof self-determinedsymbolic identificationswith
others.I will explorethe challengesthatthispresentsto communalstorytelling
laterin this article.
While on an individuallevel we remainaccustomedto offeringnarratives
to articulateour own placein the world, the role of storytellingwithin community contextsis increasinglyless assured.In 1936, in his essay"The Storyteller,"WalterBenjaminwarnsthat "the art of storytellingis coming to an
end" ([1936]1999:83).He attributesthis demiseto the new conditionsofmodernity, the rapid developmentin informationtechnology,and changesin
conditionsof production,all of which, he says,"benefit"the massdissemination of "information"that "laysclaimto promptverifiability[appearing]understandablein itself" (88) and does nothing for the "story"thatexploresthe
"miraculous"or unexplainable.
Benjamin'swarningin 1936seemsstartlinglyprescient.Our contemporary
age of postmodernismand new technologieshas establisheda radicallynew
relationshipwith the communicationof livedexperience.Todaya sophisticated
mediaswiftlytransforms
localandglobal"events"into easy-to-consumeinformation "bites."Drawnto the spectacle,live footageinstantlycapturesevents,
which appearto unfoldbeforeour eyes. Instantlywe arepresentedwith a mediatedhistoricalaccountof what has occurred;imagesareedited togetherto
supportthe claimthatthis informationis true andverifiable.
There is no doubt thatthe age of storytelling,authenticatedby the wisdom
of traditionor the authorityof "intelligencethat came fromafar"(Benjamin
[I936] 1999:88)hasdisappeared,as Kearneysays:
We can hardlydeny thatthe notion of continuousexperience,associatedwith traditionallinearnarrative,hasbeen fundamentallychallenged
by currenttechnologiesof the computerand Internet.[...] Our inherited notions of rootedspaceandtime arebeing profoundlyalteredby
the emergingmegapolisof expandingvelocity andimmediacy-giving

Playwrightin Residence 137

rise to what some regard as an increasingly deterritorialised world.
(2002:I26)

Yet while we may acknowledge that storytelling in its traditional context has
vanished, it is worth engaging further with Benjamin in order to understand
the significance of this loss. For what lies at the heart of his warning is perhaps
something even bleaker, he tells us: "One reason for this phenomenon is obvious: experience has fallen in value. And it looks as if it is continuing to fall
into bottomlessness" (8 I). Now that our "ability to exchange experiences" has
all but disappeared, we depend on external and highly mediated cultural forces
to shape our experience of life and forge our history. Alienated from storymaking processes, we have perhaps begun to doubt the validity of lived experience itself. We are no longer the agents of our own history but are
increasingly subject to a number of story-spinning and meaning-making industries that are now rarely local but rather global enterprises.
I propose that the playwright in residence can provide an intervention
within this postmodern context of atomization, fragmentation, and discontinuity. On a microlevel the residency can re-create the conditions whereby
communal interaction and communication is revalued, establishing a resistance to the reification of lived experience. While orthodox playwriting privileges the voice of the individual over the collective, the residency requires that
the playwright construct a relationship that does not appropriate or reify the
stories of the community but instead facilitates an exchange of experience and
collective storytelling that "[combines] the lore of farawayplaces [through the
playwright] with the lore of the past, as it best reveals itself to natives of a place
[through the host community]" (Benjamin [1936] 1999:85).
The playwright in residence is required to step out of her own subjective
sphere and use her craft as a storyteller to draw out and express the lived experiences of the host community through the facilitation of collective storymaking. However, significantly, unlike Benjamin's storyteller, the playwright
in residence is not a memberof the community but rather a visitor,a conjurer
who is invited to play a temporary shamanistic role in order to transform the
community's lived experience into a story that is meaningful and owned by
those who created it.
But storytelling requires a process of meaning-making; it is not simply a
process of verbatim narration. This presents the playwright with a distinctive
challenge: How can the playwright facilitate a collective storytelling process
without shaping the tale through subjectiveinterpretation? Furthermore, to
bring a playwright into a community context is to implicitly acknowledge his
or her particular know-how or craft. How then is it possible to forge a relationship in practice that is not only reciprocal and able to preserve the intersubjective essence of the exchange, but also permits the artistic input of the
playwright, the craft of the storyteller?
The relationship between the playwright and the host community is a complex one. Contrary to the context to which Benjamin was referring, where the
storyteller emerged from the community itself, the playwright in residence
constitutes an intervention and as such is likely to be proposed (and funded)
by a body that is outsidethe community. Furthermore the playwright is unlikely to be working within a community on the basis of continuity and tradition (as described by Benjamin). Not only is the playwright an outsider, the
community itself is often one of contested membership where symbols of
commonality "transform the reality of difference into an appearance of similarity" (Cohen [1985] 200ooo:2I). This postmodern

community

is characterized

by choice and intentionality rather than being founded on location; one can

138 Amanda StuartFisher

no longer assumea homogenoussenseof communalidentity.This presentsus

with a challenge if we consider collective storytelling in the Freirian sense of

"namingthe world"in orderto transformit (Freire[1970] 1993:69).While a

residency might ignite a process of community formation, it is more likely to

reveal a "community" constituted on polyphony and difference rather than
coherence.
Therefore rather than perceiving the residency as a means to inspire collective and unified action, it should be seen as a step towards the "explanation and
explication" (Turner 1982:I3) of what it means to become a community constructed on ethical interactions. What is meant here by the term "ethical" is
not only an acknowledgement of the multitude of differences but a move toward "recognizing the Same" (Badiou 2002:25).1 The playwright must establish an interaction that grounds the residency in a commonality while also
acknowledging difference and conflict within the community itself.
This article grew out of a practical research project that began in 1999 at the
Camden Young People's Theatre (CYPT),2 a company based at the Central
School of Speech and Drama, London. Artistic director Janette Smith proposed that rather than seeking out an "appropriate"play for the young people
to perform, she would commission three playwrights--Dona Daley, Courttia
Newland, and Paul Seller-to be in residence at CYPT. The theme for each
playwright was to be "Camden," the area of London in which the young people lived or went to school. In practice, each playwright forged a different
relationship with the young people. One playwright encouraged the participants to write scenes themselves, the second observed improvisations and then
went away and wrote scenes and monologues that were inspired by what he
saw, and the third transcribed some of the young people's improvisations,
wrote new sections, and then wove all the different extracts together into a
coherent play. Ultimately, this playwright crafted the final performed piece
from all the materials gathered.
In 2000, Amy Baskin, the new artistic director, decided to draw on this experience and to commission one playwright to work with the young people.
In the early stages of the residency the artistic director and I met with the playwright, Dawn Garrigan, to discuss the way in which the interaction between
the writer and the young participants would be negotiated. Our discussion
immediately revealed some of the contradictions of the previous residency,
namely, how should we negotiate the role of the playwright and young people
in the creative process? Our decision to commission a playwright was an explicit commitment to the role of a writer; it was a conscious turning away from
a devised project where the creative process may have been led by a director
or facilitator. We wanted to draw on the storytelling know-how of a writer.
Yet, negotiating the creative ownership of the project revealed the complexity
of establishing a reciprocal interaction between the host community and the
playwright.
Playwright Lin Coghlan, at that time the Workshop Coordinator at Soho
Theatre, London, suggests this difficulty is widely felt:
I've been in a lot of different types of writer-in-residence situations as a
writer but I'm [now] also responsible for setting up the writer's attachment program. [...]

For many writers [...] you feel like officially you're meant to be in
some way in residence [...] but you don't feel that you're resident anywhere and you don't feel that you're attached to anything. I think your
basic questions are: "What is this relationship?" and "What's it meant to
be?" and "Does it work?" [...] We get a lot of approaches here [at Soho

Playwrightin Residence I39

Theatre] from foreign theatres, literary managers abroad saying: What is
your methodology when you come to create a residency, and how do
you make residencies work? What are the key do's and don'ts? (2000)
My research revealed a number of different roles for the playwright in residence, each disclosing a different kind of interaction with the host community.
These can broadly be defined as: facilitator, interpreter, or mediator. By taking
on the role of facilitator, the playwright enables the community to narrate its
experiences directly through its own voices and writing. The facilitator assists
the community in the writing of its own play. In this context, the playwright's
creative contribution is that of writing tutor or possibly dramaturge. Conversely, the role of interpreter places the playwright closer to the creative center of the writing process. The interpreter playwright takes the stories of the
community and knits them together into a play. In this model, both the playwright and the community are contributing to the telling of the tale. Negotiating ownership of this creative process is a complex task. In order to avoid an
appropriation of the community's stories, a crass plundering of lived experience, the playwright must find a way to develop a reciprocal working relationship where shared ownership is sustained by both parties. Without careful
ethical negotiation, this arrangement can easily become one where the community contributes "material" and the playwright contributes "creativity."
But for this to be a truly ethical transaction between playwright and host community, both parties must be perceived as artists contributing in different ways
to the weaving of the tale. The third role, that of mediator, is more pragmatic.
Here the playwright records observed improvised dialogue and extracts written by the community. Then she structures and writes these into a play. According to this model, the playwright shapes the final text, with the
community actively involved throughout the process.
As neat as this division is, my research indicates that in most projects the role
of the playwright is not so clearly defined. Many residencies use an amalgamation of these three relationships. While it is not the intention of this article
to promote an overly formalized approach to the residency process, it is important to consider the implications of confusing one role with another. A
blurring of the boundaries of facilitator, interpreter, and mediator can result
in confusion, frustration, and even a sense of betrayal for both the host community and the playwright.
Benjamin evokes a storyteller rooted in the community. He "takes what he
tells from experience-his
own or that reported by others. And he in turn
makes it the experience of those who are listening to his tale" ([1936]
1999:87). The storyteller is not facilitating the community, nor is he or she
asking the community to enact or improvise dramatic scenarios. Rather the
storyteller establishes a fluid and reciprocal dialogue where all participants are
actively involved and contributing to the story event. As we have seen, this
forms an almost shamanic or trickster-like relationship for the storyteller, who
acts as a conduit for the consciousness of the community, transforming their
lived experiences into story. Community members actively participate in this
process. For the "magic" to work they must willingly let the playwright be the
master story-weaver. The sharing of stories and lived experiences establishes a
symbolic exchange, which engenders new social bonds and a shared understanding of community. All participants contribute to the creative process,
sharing authorship of the play that is produced at the conclusion of the residency. Although this model resonates with the practice of the playwright as
interpreter, there are some important differences. Because the storyteller is
rooted in the community, the stories that emerge are subject to the collective

I4o

Amanda Stuart Fisher

1. Maria Charles, Sally

A/ortenore, aandIrma Innis
in Clean Break Theatre's
Apache Tears. The first
draft of the play, written by
Lin Coqhlan and directed
by Nancy Diuguid, focused
on the hminanityof the
oiioienprisoners; thefinal
play shoued more of the
hardshipsof prison. Battersea Arts Centre, London,
6-24 Septemberzooo.
(Photo by Sarah Ainslie;
courtesy of Clean Break
Theatre Company)

interpretation of that community. There is therefore no outside perspective

authorizing what should or shouldn't be included. For the playwright in residence however, the concept of collective communal interpretation can be difficult to establish. A number of outside voices will want to shape the residency.
Funders, the wardens of the community, and even the playwright's artistic
drive are influences coming from outside the community. The playwright can
cease to be a storyteller and become an appropriator, even if unintentionally.
At the end of the day, the play that is produced as a result of the residency
often reveals another major divergence from Benjamin's storyteller. For an exchange of experience to take place, the playwright must tell the story back to
the community from whence it emerged. If the performance is the finale to
the experience, then the community must be the primary audience for the enactment of their story. However, in many residency projects, the final play is
not only for the community but is also aimed at a general theatregoing public.
In theory, this may not be a contradiction; in reality, serving two audiences
discloses a number of tensions that require careful negotiation.
Presenting a residency play to a wider theatregoing public could be perceived as an opportunity to shed light on a segment of society that has been
overlooked by mainstream theatre. The play could provide audiences with an
"insider" view of a community that would challenge preconceptions and contradict prejudices. In this way, the production could fulfil a political function.
While this might seem to be beneficial for the community, it comes at a cost.
To construct a play that will deliver a coherent political message often requires
the manipulation of the stories provided by the community, compromising the
very basis of the community's experiences.
Clean Break Theatre's annual residency provides a clear example of the

Playwrightin Residence 141

complexity of the negotiation between two different kinds of audiences.
Founded in 1979 by two women prisoners at Askham Grange Prison in York,
North Yorkshire, Clean Break is committed to working with women who
have experienced the criminal justice or mental health system. Annually the
company commissions a new play by a professional woman playwright who
undertakes research during a residency at a women's prison. The playwright
runs writing groups for the women prisoners and ultimately writes a play that
actively represents the experiences of the inmates. In this version of the interpreter model, the playwright is not only responsible for telling the women's
stories but is also expected to be responsive to the ethos and views of the organization that commissioned her. Lin Coghlan, who was playwright in residence for Clean Break at Holloway prison in 2000, describes the process:
Beat one is three months working in a prison, the second beat [...] is
working with ex-offenders at Clean Break, running a writing group,
then you write a series of drafts all of which are exposed internally in
the company to a mixture of advisors, board members, fellow members
of the theatre company, and ex-offenders and they all contribute.
[...Y]ou are obliged to seriously think about that feedback [...]. So
you're striving to make a very close link with the community you're
writing for. (2000)
Clean Break's annual professional production normally tours both UK
prison communities and professional theatre venues. Although it is carefully
structured and negotiated to ensure that it is ethical and responsible, the dual
nature of the intended audience presented Coghlan with a contradiction.
There was a clear difference between the play that the women ex-offenders
wanted to see performed in the prison and the version of the play that spoke
with a clear political voice against the prison system and its treatment of
women. Coghlan told me, "I ended up at one point writing two completely
different drafts" (2000). The first draft of Apache Tearsfocused on the humanity
of the women prisoners and the support that the women provide for one another:

2. MariaCharles,Sally
Mortemore,and IrmaInnis
in Clean BreakTheatre's
Apache Tears. The play-

wright,Lin Coghlan,was
not only responsible
for telling theprisoners'storiesbut
also expectedto be responsive to the ethosand views
of the organizationthat
commissioned
her.Directed
by NancyDiuguid at BatterseaArts Centre,London,
6-24 September2000.

(Photoby SarahAinslie;
courtesyof Clean Break
TheatreCompany)

142

Amanda Stuart Fisher

There were three strong, interesting, compassionate women who supported each other and one of them ends up getting out of there and successfully moving on in her life because of the support of the other two.
(Coghlan 2000)

This version of the play represented the story that the women ex-offenders
wanted to tell. However, other advisors on the project did not think it was the
"right kind of story" to describe the prison experience:
[W]hen we exposed it to a white, middle-class audience, the response
was: "I don't believe that story, I don't see the pain, I don't see what's
hard about prison, it looks like prison is great, the women have a fantastic time, they all look after each other and then go on and get a great
job, nothing goes wrong. It looks like they go to prison and they have
this lovely friendship." (Coghlan 2000)
This presented Coghlan with a difficult dilemma. She felt a strong allegiance to the perspective of the ex-offenders advising on the project. She also
wanted her play to demonstrate "that prison doesn't work, that in fact it's part
of the problem" (2000). She finally decided to rework the script so that more
of the actual hardship of prison was shown onstage. The final version of Apache
Tearsshows the bright and once sparky Merle reduced to an appalling, shuddering state, having been given the drug Largactol for depression after losing
her child to foster care.
Coghlan told me that for this scene she drew directly from the experiences
of the women she was working with. The scene clearly reveals the problems of
the prison system: "[T]he people who had not been to prison were immensely
moved and said 'This is awful, we can't go on doing this to women.' " However the women ex-offenders were less than happy about including the story.
They told Coghlan: "We know about the pain, we don't need to see that"
(Coghlan 2000). In reality, unlike Benjamin's storyteller, the playwright in
residence is often caught between different agendas and points of view. In order to purse an ethics of practice that is both responsive and responsible, the
playwright must find a path that leads to all these different agendas.
Jeanie O'Hare, literary manager of Hampstead Theatre, London, links dramatic structure and "responsibility" (O'Hare 2001). She believes that an effective dramatic structure enables the emotions that are stirred up in a play to be
"processed" thus ensuring that at the end of the project, the community is
"left" responsibly. She says:
[C]ontrolling the dramatic structure is so important to the way the piece
is created. [...] The form has to be absolutely integral to the material
that you're using and that has to have a relationship with the audience, it
has to have an honesty. [...] But I don't, for instance, think that it is dangerous to go into a prison with a dark play, if that play is perfectly
formed and so there is a chance in that cathartic relationship to that play
when you're watching it, to actually process all that emotion that it stirs
up in you [...]. If the dramatic structure is broken or malformed and
you're left with this stuff stirred up inside you that you can't deal with,
then that is irresponsible. (O'Hare 2001)
For O'Hare the "perfectly formed" play is closely connected with an "honesty" and a recognition of the "truth" of the community.
But does the perfectly formed play leave the audience unable to act? Is Au-

Playwright in Residence

gusto Boal right when he argues that Aristotelian dramaturgy actually represses what oppresses people, "purging the audience of all ideas or tendencies
capable of modifying society" ([1979] 2000:56)?
Boal proposes a participatory approach to theatre that prevents the audience
from passively accepting the spectacle presented. Like Friere, Boal aims to
enable the "spect-actor" to name and thereby transform the social-political
situation. "With their hearts and minds the audience must rehearse battle
of freeing themselves from all oppressions" (xx). But isn't the
plans-ways
kind of action Boal proposes possible only in a homogenous society or polis?
His ideas don't work well within today's fragmented communities. Boal's
model proposes a false unity or illusionary sense of integration which overlooks difference and conflict within the community itself. Furthermore if
community is no longer formed around a sense of commonality nor defined
by a unified resistance to a common oppressor (such as is found within a totalitarian state or where there is a domineering employer) then attempting to rehearse a "battle plan" against such a coherent set of enemies is drastically
oversimplified.
Thus it is clear that relying on dramatic catharsis can lead us toward a structure that inhibits critical reflection. Yet there are ways of developing a story
that awaken consciousness without leaving audiences unable to process stirred
up emotion. For Coghlan, dramatic structure takes on a particular significance
when working with vulnerable groups, such as the prisoners she worked with.
A prison audience is likely to have little choice about leaving the performance
if, for example, it becomes too difficult to watch. Furthermore, such an audience is likely to remain in the setting represented in the play well after the performance has ended. Coghlan:

I43

3. Maria Charles, Sally

Mortemore, and Irma Innis
in Clean Break Theatre's
Apache Tears by Lin
Coghlan. Directed by
Nancy Diuguid, Battersea
Arts Centre, London, 6-24
September2000. (Photo by
Sarah Ainslie; courtesy of
Clean Break Theatre Company)

144 Amanda StuartFisher

I think writers have a responsibility to think about the impact of their
work on very vulnerable groups if they are commissioned specifically to
work for that group. I don't think that needs to interfere with the truthfulness of the writing but I think it has to be a delicate negotiation between company and writer because it does come up frequently. It's an
issue I've seen come up again and again. Can we leave them here at this
point? Can we allow the play to leave them at this moment? (2000)
Coghlan raises the issue of the relationship between the "truth" of lived experience and "good" dramatic structure. In devising a means by which a community is able to process the emotions stirred up in the drama, playwrights
might create conclusions that betray the complexities and truths at the heart
of the original story.
Responding to these contradictions, Coghlan uses a "redemptive" narrative
structure. She sees this particularstructure as enabling a degree of optimism to
permeate the stories she represents:
[A]s a writer I feel some level of redemption is important in a piece of
theatre. It doesn't have to go as far as the happy ending, but I think that
theatre's a very powerful tool and if you tell people that life is hopeless
you have to take responsibility for that. [...] I'm interested in us always
sensing in [the characters of the play] and in ourselves the potential we

haveto survive,to grow,to triumphoveradversity.[...] That'squite a

difficult line to tread, especially with very very explosive and difficult
subject matter. Because there are no easy answers for women in prisons.

(2000)
Attempting to ensure that a community is not left in despair returns us to the
issue of collective authorship. For if the playwright attempts to resolve the
problems raised in the community's stories then he or she is in danger of moving out of the role of storyteller and into that of "teacher" or "therapist."
There is no simple way to achieve a perfectly reciprocal and ethical practice.
All residencies require ongoing negotiation and relationship-building among
a number of different parties. Each host community will bring a unique set of
circumstances to the residency process and in order to establish an appropriate
methodology, these need careful consideration, tact, and understanding on the
part of the playwright. While the dramatic pull of the story will inevitably influence the shape of the residency, the playwright's primary ethical responsibility must remain with the community in which he or she is based. Every
residency is a temporal event that can establish the foundations for enhancing
a new level of communication and self-confidence, developed from a renewed
communal concept of shared experience.
The residency at CYPT that initiated this research uncovered a number of
difficulties in negotiating both community and story. The artistic director and
I worked hard to ensure that the young people and the playwright were active
participants in the creative process of making the play. However, in retrospect
it would seem that we were unable to effectively pinpoint the identity of the
community of CYPT. Early on in the process the young people participated
in a discussion about who should be commissioned to be "in residence."
While we were able ask what qualities a potential playwright in residence
should posses, we failed to recognize that the community of CYPT was in permanent flux. It was not a community based on the location of Camden nor was
it based on a coherent manifestation of "youth culture." Research revealed

Playwrightin Residence 145

that many members had different expectations of the project and that CYPT
fulfilled a range of different functions in the lives of these young people. They
all strongly supported the project and were happy to take part in workshops
with the playwright. But in practice they did not feel any real shared desire to
create a piece of theatre that represented their own lives.
Despite the average age of participants (14-15), the characters that were
created during the workshops were all in their 2os or 3os and the storylines did
not seem directly representative of their own experiences. For example, the
participants created a 40-something rich businessman who has an affair with
an artist commissioned to paint his portrait.
This put the playwright in a difficult position. She worked hard to encourage the young people to lead the creative process, but she found the play was
developing into one that had little resonance with the lives of the young people who had created it. Garrigan:
Last week I noticed that a lot of the characters they had created were in
their 2os and 3os [...] and I said, "What do you want this piece to be
about? Do you want this piece to be about young people and young
people's lives?" And they said, "No." [...] I am hearing that they want
this piece to be about a diversity of characters, but I do feel that in order
for them to feel connected to what they're doing there does somehow
need to be a presence of young people's issues within the piece. (2000)
As the residency progressed it became apparent that rather than representing
their own lives, the young people had chosen to create characters that they
found "exciting" or whom they wanted to be like. Anna (CYPT participant
aged 15) created "Jemima":
She was an art student and she's just bought a house that she was sharing
with a fellow art student and she was a mature student, about 22, and
was basically into all that art and decorating her house with all her paintings and stuff.
Serena (aged 14) created "Sarah":
She is very confident and has lots of friends although she doesn't really
like being with lots of people, she prefers being on her own. She's not
that interested in boys, but she's attractive, she could have a boyfriend if
she wanted one.
By misunderstanding the constituent identity of the CYPT community we
had, it seems, also overlooked the reasons why the young people came together to create theatre. We had presumed that CYPT shared a coherent identity and expected the young people to create a production that reflected this.
However the play that emerged revealed a shifting and fluctuating relationship
to theatre-making and lived experience. In retrospect it seems that each young
person negotiated a self-defined level of identification with the charactersthey
created. For some young people it was an aspirationalprocess: these were characters they wanted to be like. For others, it was an escape from their own lives
into a fantasy version of adult life or a make-believe world of theatre.
The final production could perhaps be best understood as a playful experiment in living a different sort of life. However, the residency as a whole continued to be perceived as a positive experience by the young people. It became
clear that the communal identity of CYPT was born out of the creative process. It was a transitory community that grew from the act of performing a play

146 Amanda StuartFisher

and the ethical interaction that communal creativity necessitated. After the
project ended the membership and subsequent community of CYPT changed,
but for those who participated, new social networks and friendships were
formed.
While clearly some friendships began prior to the project and continued beyond the confines of CYPT, other alliances emerged that were contingent on
the project. Some of the young people who were less confident seemed to deliberately explore a new level of social ability in the characters they created;
the exchange of stories and experiences encouraged discussion that was responsive and generally respectful. Of course it is possible to suggest that these
new social networks would have developed in the course of any play that was
rehearsed and performed by a group. Yet it was noticeable that the young people felt a particular level of ownership over this project because they had created it, in dialogue with the writer. As CYPT participant Paul said:
This time with [the playwright], we have been more involved in the
writing process. [...] Dawn knows how to approach young people. She
knows what to talk about and she's very easy to get along with I would
say. And just the whole thing of us seeing her every workshop: she's
there, she's talking to us, she's going out of her way to talk to us and
meet us. [...] I like being involved in the whole writing process because
I want to feel more involved in writing and creating pieces and stuff instead ofjust performing them.
Or Karen:
I think this is quite good because it's different skills, it's not just reading
out from a piece of writing that has already been written by someone
you don't know. Also, I guess, even if they don't take a character that
you've done, if you're in it you already know the characters so it's easier
to get into it.

4. The studentsof the

CamdenYoungPeople's
Theatrehad one ideaof
what theirplay wouldbe,
thefacilitatorsanother.
PlaywrightDona Daley
and CYPT participant
MarleneTelliam.Rock-aBye Camden, directedby

JanetteSmith, the Central

Schoolof Speechand
Drama, October-December
2000.

(Photo by Amy Bas-

kin; courtesyof CYPT)

Play1wrightin Residence

147

In conclusion, there are a number of different

models of practice available to the playwright in residence. Each residency discloses a different ideology
and each interaction reveals a different expectation of
the relationship between playwright and host community. However, to perceive the playwright as a
community's storyteller is to develop a model that is
informed by an ethics of practice that is both reciprocal and responsive; able therefore to negotiate the
conflicts, the commonalities, and specific needs of
the host community. While I think it would be misleading and perhaps presumptuous to suggest that the
playwright in residence has the power to enable a
community to radically transform itself, this practice
can certainly have affirmativeand beneficial outcomes.
The creative exchange of stories and collective interpretation of shared lived experience enable participants to throw off unwanted 5. An 18-month partnership
involved studentsfrom King
labeling and prejudice and become authors of their own lives.
Although the traditional storyteller may be long past, I believe there is still A!fred's College working
a place for the storyteller to work with people to help them tell or invent sto- alongside wuomenprisoners
ries that actually build a community. When Benjamin uses the term "Story- fron West Hill Prison. Perteller," he refers to the wisdom that develops from the experiences of the former Rebekah Wilson
community members themselves. In today's fragmented communities, a co- plays 'Jess" in a rehearsal
herent story may be hard to discover or construct. But the work of playwrights for Refuge by resident
in residence, even if it does not lead to radical change, can establish an ethical playwright Dawn Garrigan.
and communal interaction that may in time, make unified community con- Prison Gymnasium, West
sciousness and action a possibility. To accomplish this, the playwright must be Hill HM (Her Majesty's)
fully integrated with the host community. This requires a sustained period of Prison, Winchester,April
in residence" time enabling the playwright to establish relationships, develop 2003. Directed by Annie
Mckean. (Photo by Peter
trust, and find ways to create a shared communication.
A recent project directed by Annie McKean at Winchester Prison provides Jacobs, King A?lred's Unia good example of what can be achieved from an extended creative partner- versity College, Media and
IT Department)
ship and residency. The project took place over an 18-month period in 2001/
2002 and involved students from King Alfred's College working alongside

6. Rehearsalfor Refuge by
Dawn Garrigan, directedby
Annie Mckean. Peiformers:
Elle Gritten, Maria Pagonis, Tanya Wintel, Joan
Campbell. Prison Gymna-

sium, WestHill HM
Prison, Winchestem;12 May
2003. (Photo by PeterJa-

cobs, King Alfred's University College, Media and IT

Department)

148 Amanda StuartFisher

7. "Doing the play and

meetingthe studentshas
mademefeel like a human
beingagain."Staff stndentsfrom King Alfred's
UniversityCollege,and
prisoners
from WestHill
HM PrisonWinchester:
KerrynDavies (Prison
Drama Tutor),VickyBurnell,June Gordon,Maria
Pagonis,Mimi Frank,Stephen Manley,Annie
Mckean(Director,Project
Manager),CarlaDorward,
TanyaWinter,Tasha
Coles, Nicola Ward,Naomi Evans, Elle Gritten.
Rehearsal
for Refuge by
Dawn Garrigan;directedby
Annie Mckean.(Photoby
Peter]acobs,King Alfred's
UniversityCollege,Media
and IT Department)

women prisoners from West Hill Prison. Refuge,

Dawn Garrigan's play written as a result of the residency, was performed at Winchester Prison in May
2003. The project was a meaningful experience for
both the prisoners and the college students: it forced
both parties to confront their prejudices and expectations of one another. Many of the participants commented on the value of the friendships that formed
throughout the project and a number of the women
prisoners particularly commented on how the project had had a humanizing effect in the otherwise
alienating prison. As one prisoner-performer stated
in the Refugeprogram: "Doing the play and meeting
the students has made me feel like a human being again."
Perhaps the most interesting feedback took place at the end of the performance. While the discussion was still going on, a prison guard appeared with
a huge bunches of keys. Almost as soon as the last comment was made, he issued a command and briskly marched the performers/prisoners out of the
performance space and back to their cells. The last comment of the discussion
was from a prisoner/performer who spoke of how the project had "taken her
out of herself." She said: "When we're here I'm no longer in prison, you
know, in my mind, I'm free."
Notes
i. Badiouchallengesthe Levinasian
constructof the otherasradicalalterity:
The truthis that,in the contextof a systemof thoughtthatis both a-religious
andgenuinelycontemporary
withthetruthsof ourtime,thewholeethicalpredicationbaseduponrecognitionof the othershouldbe purelyandsimplyabandoned. For the real question-and it is an extraordinarily
difficultone-is
much more that of recotnizig the Same. [...] What, then, are we to make of the
other, of differences, and of their ethical recognition? Infinite alterity is quite
simply what there is. Any experience at all is the infinite deployment of infinite
differences. Even the apparent reflexive experience of myself is by no means the
intuition of a unity but a labyrinth of differentiations. (2002:25-26)
2. Camden Young People's Theatre (CYPT) for people aged i4-18 is funded by Camden
Borough Council, London, and managed by the Central School of Speech and Drama.
From 1999 to 2002, I was responsible for the day-to-day management and support of
the artistic director.

References
Badiou, A.
2002

Ethics: An Essay onithe Understaoding of Evil. London: Verso Press.

Boal, Augusto
2000
Theater of the Oppressed. London: Pluto Press.
[1979]
Cohen, Anthony R
2000 [I985]
The Symbolic Constructiotnof Community: Key Ideas. London: Routledge.
Coghlan, Lin
2000

Interview with author. London, 7 November.

Freire, Paulo
I993 [1970]

Pedagogy of

the Oppressed. London: Penguin.

Playwrightin Residence I49

Garrigan,Dawn
2000
Interview with author. London, 28 November.
Kearney,Richard
2002
On Stories.London: Routledge.
O'Hare,Jeanie
2001
Interview with author. London, 5 March.
Turner,Victor
FromRitual to Theatre.New York:PAJPublications.
1982

A anda Stuart Fisher is a Lecturerin Applied Theatreat CentralSchoolof Speech

and Drama, London,and has workedas a dramateacherand as educationcoordinator
at the Royal Court Theatre,London.