Working it Out at the Workshop

I am a big fan of the workshop model of cultural experience, particularly when it comes to visual arts. This is mostly to do with the fact that, despite my interest, I am uniquely incompetent with a crayon and, worse, more impatient than my two-year old. Over the last two weeks I have been to two different workshops with my boys, both in public institutions, one free and one paid. Both were centered on the same theme, but the difference between the two was so marked that I feel compelled to blog about it.

Tiny Tots at the National Gallery

Over the last 18 months, The National Gallery on Merrion Square have been running themed art workshops for toddlers. I have been to three of the Tiny Tots workshops at intervals of 6 months, and it has been interesting to see both the workshops and my two-year old’s capacity to engage evolve. On the first occasion, the workshop was designed to introduce the children to the idea of a gallery. We used finger paints, stamps and watercolour crayons to make pictures to stick into a folding card lined with frames, which we could take home. The activities were centered around several tables, which were taller than the children, who needed to be supported to climb onto stools and access material. My son, then 18 months, spent most of the time stacking cushions. The workshop took place in one of the exhibition rooms in the old part of the gallery, which was closed off to the public. The room was almost circular, large and high ceilinged. Crucially, there was art on the wall and you also had to pass sculptures and paintings to get to the space.

The most recent workshop was themed Under the Sea, and this time took place in the New Wing, in the space where the upstairs cafe used to be. The children were seated on cushions on the floor. Before the workshop began there was ample opportunity for rolling and stacking the cushions (again the two-year-old took full advantage). The facilitators began by gathering the children together underneath a large sheet (the sea), playing the theme tune to the Disney film The Little Mermaid and encouraging them to dance. The children were then showed how to make octopus creatures from handprints and they stuck their creatures on to a piece of coloured paper that they also decorated with torn strips of crepe paper (seaweed). The second activity reinforced the concept of shapes with the children. Using a circle and a triangle, we drew fish, cut them out and stuck them to the same background. The workshop ended with another listen and dance to Under the Sea, and we got to take our art work home. There was no visual stimulation at all, and it was possible to attend the workshop without engaging with a single piece of art.

 

The King of the Sea’s Party

A week later, we participated in a  workshop called King of the Sea at the Ark: A Cultural Centre for Children in Temple Bar, for a fee of 8 euro. It took place on the building’s second floor, and emerging from the lift, you were immediately immersed in a creative workshop environment. The workshop space was decked out dramatically: sea shells lined the wall, sea creatures were suspended from the ceiling, the floor was covered in textured rugs in blue and green, and big throne sat in the corner. Our facilitator, Joanna Parkes, began by asking the children to introduce themselves, which encouraged them to express themselves throughout the workshop.

Then she started telling them a story. The King of the Sea was having a party and his party planner was looking for some children to help her with some last minute decoration. Joanna then pulled on a costume and took out a clipboard, and enlisted the children as ‘star helpers.’ They hung seaweed from the walls with clothes pegs, made pictures for the walls using stickers and crayons, fake-baked a million cupcakes, practiced playing music for his parade, and then showed the mermaids how to dance (a challenge when they have no legs). When the King made his appearance he invited the children to try out his throne and take their picture home with them.

Because of the structured nature of the workshop, there was a real sense of momentum that kept the children engaged throughout,. The festive theme gave it a high energy feel, but Joanna never let the children’s focus wander. I was  really impressed by the way in which she integrated a variety of elements from different art forms. It was essentially an arts and crafts workshop, but it was highly theatrical too, and had the children miming, dancing and storytelling, as well as using their fine motor skills in their art work.

Working it out at the Workshop

As the descriptions probably attest, the second workshop was by far the more successful.

At the National Gallery, the long narrow room and the positioning of the facilitators, lent an instructive feel to events, which I don’t think is particularly useful for this age group. The children were told what the theme was but were not encouraged to engage with it in any meaningful or personal way. They weren’t really invited to put themselves into the workshop (to create pictures of their own experiences with sea creatures), nor were they shown any visual aids (different ways of representing sea creatures.) My experience, and that of several friends in attendance, was that we did the work for the children, which is useful in itself for me but doesn’t really take full advantage of the National Gallery’s resources.

By creating an immersive environment for the children at the Ark, however, the facilitator kept their attention, despite the varying age groups. Although the workshop was 8 euro per child, and the National Gallery’s workshop was free, the same level of imagination could easily be applied to a more formal visual arts brief for very little outlay. Indeed, most of the room was decorated with homemade/crafty props.

However, I wonder to what extent the success of the workshop at the Ark has to do with story. It gave the children a context from which to engage with both the arts activities and, by encouraging theatrical participation, in investing themselves in the experience too.

Of course, it could be my own preference, and my own child’s nature, but I genuinely don’t think you can underestimate the power of story to engage and/or teach young children.

Advertisements

Human Child: Project Arts Centre, 27th July

HumanChild3(1)

Collapsing Horse’s Human Child

So, I took my six-month old to the theatre the other day, for a lunchtime matinee of Human Child by Collapsing Horse Theatre Company, who were staging a one-off performance before heading to the Edinburgh Fringe Festival. The show is aimed at an 8+ audience, so I was pretty gobsmacked (and pleased) when the box-office manager asked if I was bringing the children in. (By some miracle, both my charges were asleep in the buggy when I collected my tickets). Granny was coming to take them to the park for an hour, but I decided that if the (breastfed) baby woke up before she arrived I would take my chances and take him in with me. Predictably he did.

 

The play is inspired by W B Yeats’ famous fairy poem, The Stolen Child, and revolves around a young fantasist who finds herself increasingly excluded at school because she refuses to participate in their ‘real world games’: “Let’s play taxes!” they shout enthusiastically instead. She is constantly being accused of ‘being away with the fairies’ and one day the fairies come for her. She willingly accepts their bargain of a life of nothing but imaginative role-play, but it comes at a price.

 

The plot of Human Child is overly complex for a young age group, and the best part – the fairies themselves – get lost in a subplot involving a same-sex/different species relationship between a mouse and a bear. The ‘real-life’ sections could do with a good edit too, and although I was impressed by the inventiveness of the puppetry and set design – whose makeshift quality would be particularly appealing to a child audience – I couldn’t help but wonder whether the company had a dramaturg on board who had experience with children’s theatre. Human Child was promising, but with tweaking could have been much more than that.

 

My infant companion, meanwhile, behaved immaculately during the 50 minute show. He enjoyed the lights, the music, and the shadow play especially. Feeding him got us through the over-stimulated hump, and when he got very fidgety towards the end, I stood in the aisle rocking him until he settled. I was heartened by the fact that there was another woman with an infant in attendance, but disappointed by the fact that these two baby boys were the ONLY children present at all. It is summer, and, yes, the weather is good, but NO CHILDREN AT ALL?

 

I really admire what Collapsing Horse are attempting to do with their DIY-inspired post-dramatic aesthetic, even if I wasn’t that keen on this latest incarnation. And I hope the lack of children at the show was failure in marketing on their part rather than a reflection of the state of theatre for children in Ireland at the moment.

 

 

Incidentally, the experience reminded me of how much I miss going to the theatre, and how easy it would be for theatre companies to accommodate Mums and Babies at matinée performances, in the same way cinemas do. Most people, I believe, I hope, are sensible enough to know if their baby will wear it, and will leave as quietly as possible if they can’t.

Collapsing Horse will perform Human Child at Underbelly, Cowgate, at the Edinburgh Fringe until 24th August.