Audience participation can be frightening. The attendee contract for live performance is that we sit in the dark and watch what is happening on stage without having to interact with anyone else. Now laughter and applause are both kinds of audience participation. Call and response, too. “Raise your hand if you have ever…” starts to get a bit more personal. Answering the “where are you from” question in a stand-up show might lead you to be picked on all night; some comedians are bad at crowd work and use it as a crutch.
Rawcus’ new
work, Tattoo Show, takes the idea of audience participation to an
extreme, but in a way that is thoughtful, considered and at every step of the
way, asks for consent. Before we even enter the performance space, the audience
are individually asked if we would consider getting a permanent tattoo on stage during
the show. Anyone who says yes is given a green wristband and has to sign a
waiver. Everyone else gets a red wrist band and can breathe a sigh of relief.
Once we’re
all seated in Solidarity Hall, the Rawcus ensemble takes it in turn to ask us all
questions. Have we seen a Rawcus show before? Do we have a tattoo? Are we
willing to get a tattoo tonight? If you are willing, will you be disappointed
if you don’t? All questions to determine who might be a good candidate.
Three
audience members are taken up on stage, one-by-one, to answer questions about
themselves – from their name and how it’s spelled to what they might remember
about the night in a year or ten. Weaved throughout the night are stories of
memory and impermanence. Of what stays long term and what disappears from our
thoughts.
After the
audience members are assured that they can stop the process at any time, that
consent is key and the show doesn’t require anyone to get a tattoo, the three
audience members are given three minutes to discuss amongst themselves who should have the chance
to get a permanent reminder of Tattoo Show. Last night, this time was filled with some
generosity, some arrogance and some randomness thrown in for good
measure. The show is about trust and openness and how we act and react in
public. This three minutes captured a whole array of human response; a fascinating interaction.
After the
early parts of the show were infused with a strange sense of conformity, as we
all worked out what we wanted from the experience and how much we needed to be
involved, the rest of the show was an assuring mix of freewheeling and
meditative. The Rawcus ensemble tells stories of their own tattoos or why they
are tattoo-free. There’s beautiful moments of “dance as if everyone’s watching”
and confessionals about why some people can try anything once but never commit
to permanent art on their bodies.
We all
change, all the way through our lives. We mark the occasions with celebrations,
ceremony and Instagram reels. Some get art tattooed onto their skin and they
all have different reasons, but the act of it is rooted in memory and permanence.
The audience
member who got a tattoo last night was named Summer. In the context of a show
that delved into things that come and go, to find a volunteer named after a
season was completely fitting. The seasons change. The Fringe Festival is finite. But this night - this single performance - is part of Summer's story now. One of the illustrations of life on her skin.
Tattoo Show is surprising and mesmirising. Some will remember this night forever and, for the rest of us, it will fade over time. For a show that seems so odd and so out there, it is ephemeral like all theatre.
- Keith Gow, Theatre First
Tattoo
Show is running
until October 19
Photos: Darren Gill
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