“If I was going to call someone a cunt, I’d just come out and say it,” laughs Melissa Dunne, the artistic director of Papercut Theatre. But she has a much more creative method of opposing Hunt’s arts cuts. The six short plays Dunne commissioned for Cut Off are refined but reactive, mature but playful – and a perfect way to respond to the arts funding axe predicted by the chief executive of Arts Council England to stamp “a significant impact on the cultural life of the country”.

Cut Off started out as so many artistic endeavours. “The idea came about one night as a joke in the pub,” Dunne explains. “I said, ‘I’m going to have a gala where I’ll get a bunch of people to write plays about the fact that there’s not enough money to make theatre’. The idea sat with me for a couple of weeks, and I then realised that it wasn’t the worst idea I’ve ever had.” She set about commissioning playwrights and recruiting actors, directors and other artists to pull together the collaborative project that became Cut Off.

Playwright Katie McCullough saw the result, a production at Theatre 503 in September. “I was extremely impressed by the quality of work in such a short period of time and with lack of money,” she recalls. As Dunne prepared to transfer the cycle to Tristan Bates, she asked McCullough to contribute a new play. “What’s interesting about this show is that it carries a number of different opinions,” McCullough notes. “It’s not just saying that the arts are great.”

But, as expected, that is the principle message. McCullough may be right that Cut Off features different voices – and a wonderful diversity of styles – but its central thesis is that the cuts are bad. The point is made most persuasively by Sarah Grochala in her self-performed play “Standing Out of the Light”. In a neat blend of fact and fiction, Grochala plays herself as a Conservative party member, who has come to propose reform and explain why the arts cuts are right. Grochala, an Amnesty Award-winning writer, is a skilled political commentator: her unique approach to the theme both lampoons government policy and conveys a serious message, comparing, for example, the £11 per person annually given to the arts from the government to the £509 spent on war.

Figures also informed McCullough’s allegorical piece, “Food for Thought”. The writer found an intriguing report on the Arts Council’s website that contains the amounts paid to different institutions and projects. The details can be broken down by region, reason and art form. “It was really interesting to see how different groups approach theatre based on how much money they get,” McCullough says. “There are some quite phenomenal amounts and you think, ‘wow, you make those types of production with that amount of money’.”

McCullough’s intrigue is dramatised in her play, in which three commissioners from three very different theatres sit in a restaurant while a playwright pitches her ideas as if they were meals. “I’ve approached it as a new writer at the beginning of my career,” she notes. “It’s based on my own experience and what I see happening to others. It’s about the commissioning world now, the lack of funding – and how to approach it.” “Food for Thought” contains some expert observations and a creative approach – as a short play it attains the respectable position of a fun satire.

More overtly satirical, Rebecca Walker’s “Hearts and Minds” opens the cycle in a Canary Wharf boardroom as executives decide which arts project to fund as part of their reluctant corporate social responsibility programme. The piece contains some hilarious lines (one theatre project is described as sounding “a bit wrist-slitty”) and attempts to question whether art should be funded for art’s sake or on Darwinian principles. Walker may try to cram too much into her piece and its representation of the corporate world is not always fair – but that’s satire. And it’s certainly provocative.

The same can be said of “Bee Stings”, Ben Blaine’s offering and the final piece in the cycle. A thrilling play-within-a-play, “Bee Stings” opens with a dystopian vision of the future in which artists are imprisoned. But it soon transforms into a protest in which artists go on strike. What follows is a fascinating discussion between artists about the merits of art and how these can be viewed with reference to funding cuts. It feels very authentic and is played by probably the best cast in the cycle (not least because one play is performed by audience members).

Cut Off conveys responses to the art cuts from countless artists – writers, directors, lightning designers, actors and so on. It is a two-fingered salute to Hunt that is somewhat more creative than the one delivered on the radio this week. “We’ve all used Hunt’s nickname,” says McCullough. “It’s just funny that it came from the mouth of a Radio 4 presenter.”

Until I started researching I was amazed that the UK had something like the Arts Council to fund new and daring projects. In my classes here I keep learning about all the wonderful the Arts Council can do for the arts. The idea of the government giving money to arts is as foreign to me as ancient Greek. After much research I discovered that the United States has a very similar organization. This basically ruined my argument that the UK is superior to America when it comes to a support of the arts… with one big exception.

The arts are commonly discredited as an unnecessary luxury. Arts programs are always the first thing to lose funding in the states. When it comes to school, especially in these times, it’s hard to find a strong and well-funded art program. Ironically enough this constant cutting of money from the arts is a horrible choice from a fiscal standpoint.

For every dollar that America’s National Endowment for the Arts grants to the various arts communities it is said the government receives over seven times more in return. This figure is just as large when pertaining to the Arts Council’s funding in the UK. The arts are bankable and profitable. Even in times where the world is in a financial crisis the arts are just as strong as ever.

Many will argue that this isn’t the time for arts with Broadway and West End plays and musicals closing left and right such as Flashdance, which announced an early closing notice after a 16-week run.  However, when a show such as Wicked costs around $350,000 to keep running each week and still has no problem filling up the house it’s obvious that even though people’s bank accounts have gotten smaller their appreciation for the arts haven’t.

However, there is a fundamental difference between the kinds of projects that the Arts Council gives money to versus the kind of projects that the National Endowment of the Arts gives money to. In the 1980’s Congress passed a bill with an amendment about what projects the NEA could and could not grant money to:

“Obscene or indecent,” including those denigrating belief in a religion or non-religion, or debasing any person on the basis of race, creed, sex, handicap, age, or national origin. “Obscenity” was defined as works which include “sadomasochism, homoeroticism, the sexual exploitation of children, or individuals engaged in sex acts and which, when taken as a whole, do not have serious literary, artistic, political, or scientific value.” (1)

The reason why the UK’s art funding system is so much more evolved in comparison to the states is the lack of censorship here (especially when it comes to things of a promiscuous or “blasphemous” nature). The Arts Council “funds to fail” putting money in new and daring works. This is why places such as the National Theatre, RSC and Bush Theatre receive constant funding from the council. The Bush theatre prides itself on only doing new work, which is a very daring mantra. They are able with the funding from the Arts Council to put up shows like My Romantic History that came from the Edinburgh Fringe Festival and was sold out for most of its run.

Things like this just don’t happen in America. If you look online at the list of theatres that the National Endowment for the Arts donates to it is filled with “safe” investments: regional Theatres doing Carousel and The Sound of Music. You would certainly never see the NEA giving money to a theatre to produce a Sarah Kane play.

With the budget changes the Arts Council’s budget will be cut by 14.9% over the next four years. The council is trying to enforce the cuts in a way that gives theatres time to figure out how to handle their new lack of fiscal support before the rug is pulled from under them.

Maybe this is an American train of thought but I have always been taught that when the economy is in the dumps the best way to stimulate it is to invest: a.k.a shop shop shop. So, it seems illogical to me that at a time where the UK’s Gross Value needs to have a serious boost that it would cut the Arts Councils’ budget.

Especially when 76% of English adults took part the arts in the last 12 months. This isn’t even counting the hundreds of thousands of tourists who come into the country expecting to go to some sort of art/cultural event. The arts alone contribute over 60 billion pounds to the GVA and each pound put in generates two pounds somewhere else not to mention all of the jobs that it provides (around 2 million). (2)

It just seems ridiculous to me to take away money from an industry that will only make it back by who knows how much fold. If one needs to spend money to make money it is pretty obvious that the solution isn’t to take money away from the safety of a constantly growing investment pool.

(1). National Endowment for the Arts : A History 1965-2008 – By: Mark Bauerlein and Ellen Grantham

http://www.nea.gov/pub/nea-history-1965-2008.pdf

(2) Arts Council Facts and Figures

http://www.artscouncil.org.uk/about-us/why-arts-matter/facts-and-figures/

By: Jacque Donahue

Writer and actor Laurence plays a version of himself re-reading his birthday journal entries from the past 10 years in order to record a tape now, on his 39th birthday, that will form the basis for his production of Samuel Beckett’s Krapp’s Last Tape. That production will be staged in 30 years’ time, when Laurence is 69 – the same age as Krapp. As this fascinating concept unfolds through the dialogue of recorded phone conversations and Laurence’s telling, the audience member becomes a co-conspirator. Many would scoff at Laurence for his bold but arguably gimmicky or conceited plan. But such is his openness and modesty that we want him to do it – we’re a part of this narrative now, an ally and a supporter.

This is Laurence’s central achievement. He transforms what could be a mere narrative ploy or an entrance to a more famous man’s work into a piece of personal and imaginative drama. His character is pathetic like the rest of us. He’s ashamed to say he’s an actor so he tells people he’s a writer, and then worries that that is no better. He’s earnest and fretful. He practices the Northern Irish accent from a handbook with a charming blend of competence and ineptitude – this section is particularly funny, if only for the surreal phrases suggested by his book.

Although his self-taught accent lesson does not feel contrived for any particular effect, something it shares with most of the play, there are some moments that do. After one day, he realises that all his conversations that day have lasted exactly three  minutes, which is actually much less important than the fact that he paid for each of them and that they had time limits attached. Stressing the length of time, even if it is the same in each case, ruins the point. Equally, Laurence’s journal entries are often caged in clichés, so as to feel like a story read by a newcomer to a creative writing class. However, they are journal entries – written by Laurence’s younger self – so perhaps the clichés are a device. If so, I would expect more of them, if not in number then in severity.

Such matters rankle but don’t ruin this well-crafted and entertaining piece of theatre. It feels experimental and playful, while at the same time winning a place among the great monologue plays. The uniqueness stems not from the character itself or the language but the way that this eccentric technique he forces himself through unravels his life for him. That feels like something very new and exciting. As Laurence says, he’s just “an old man in a room by himself and the mystery of his life”. This one’s got cameras and tape recorders too – what a brilliant idea it is.

As someone who is studying theatre in London my teacher found it important that the class see a show that pushes boundaries. I was well warned of the violence and gruesome acts that were supposed to happen on stage and I asked my self:

“How can someone be allowed to do this?”

Censorship is something that has been out of date in the UK since the obscene publications acts started limiting what could be censored. Yet in a country free of censorship this play brings up the question…how much is too much?

This was this show that just 15 years ago drove reviewer Michael Billington to call it a “disgusting feast of filth” in his review of the original production at the Royal Court Theatre.

Censorship is not a foreign concept to me…or to any American for that matter. People are censor crazy in the states, everything from music and books to plays and musicals are questioned by the people.

In my home state of Kansas there are associations of parents who count the number of times swear words are present in the novels used in schools and if it’s anymore then 5 times they find a way to ban them.

Blasted inspires an analysis of what is grotesque to make a point versus what is grotesque to be just that.

Seeing the play actually reminded me of a monologue in Neil Labute’s play Shape of Things where Adam assesses how far art should go;

“You know when Picasso took a shit he didn’t call it a sculpture. He knew the difference. That’s what made him Picasso…you aught to at least realize that there’s a price to it all…if you don’t get that I mean if you can’t see at least that much then you are about 2 inches away from using babies to make lampshades and calling it furniture. I know they call it the art scene but that’s not all it should make…a scene.

Hey, anybody can be provocative or shocking, stand up in class or at the mall or whatever and take a piss. Paint yourself blue and run naked through a church screaming out the names of people you have slept with. Is that art? Or did you just forget to take your Ritalin that day?”

I must admit that walking into the theatre on Thursday night I was expecting the worst, I was afraid and spent most of the first half an hour of the show tense…waiting to be shocked to my core.

I was pleasantly surprised.

This is not to say that Sarah Kane’s play is not shocking but more that Sean Holmes is a fantastic director. Every part that I was apprehensive about was staged with excellent taste. The audience knew what was happening but still the acts (eg. Rape, masturbation etc.) left something to the imagination which I appreciated.

Could I have lived without Ian chomping away at a little baby…yes

However, did I understand the reasons for it that justified the act…yes

I did what people are taught not to do from childhood; I judged a book by its cover. I heard the horrible things that happened in Blasted and decided before I even saw it that I hated the show.

To tell the truth…I did hate the show. It was not my kind of entertainment and given the choice I would never choose to see it again. But that is not a reflection on the show as much as it is on my taste of what is entertaining.  The direction and acting were both superb in my opinion and should be commended.

While I did not necessarily enjoy my theatrical experience I was moved and shocked because Blasted represents something that was very real. Sarah Kane mentioned many times in interviews that this work represented the war in Bosnia circ 1992-1995.

I live in a severely privileged country in the world where we can be blissfully unaware of the horrors that happen in other places not so blessed. In all honesty I had no idea that there was a war in Bosnia, not because I’m ignorant but mainly because I was between the ages of 2 and 5 at the time. I came home from the show and I started researching and suddenly I realized just how important this play is.

The vulgar acts that happen on stage might be completely repulsive but they happened. They actually happened during this war. Women, and men as well, of all ages were raped and brutally attacked. This wasn’t just a small group of women but thousands and thousands of people suffered these vicious acts. People didn’t have food and water and things like Ian eating this poor dead baby is far from fictitious.

That rocked my mind because I can’t even fathom living in a society where that could happen and so I understand the reasons for Kane’s play because many people are in that blissful naïve state. This play isn’t shocking because it’s filthy. It’s shocking because it represents something very real. Kane makes a shrewd commentary on the world as it is and has no problem holding back. This play is controversial because the truth is always shocking.

By: Jacque Donahue

Two extraordinary days have followed. For the first time in a long time I have been immersed in a world of pure creativity – uncensored, unedited, almost in moments possessed of a kind of giddy recklessness – but also of creativity being tested. We have all brought our life experience to the table – not just in terms of our skills and professional experience but our willingness to be brave, to risk, to trust – which comes from a different place. Lisa has been a wonderful guide and leader – with just the best sense of humour which we need to lighten the fascinating darkness at the heart of the subject we are exploring. Yesterday – Sunday – I sat and wrote an opening scene. But even as I was writing I was also imagining a different way to start this story – a structural experimentation that was exciting and unusual. I can take this idea into rehearsals this morning. That’s the wonderful thing about the IGNITIONS scheme – the encouragement to try something new, move into theatrical areas that you are not familiar with, take risks. I have missed this – I didn’t know quite how much. And I am loving it.

What now? I have no idea. I hope it is not the end, obviously, but just the beginning. I shall be back at The Tristan Bates on the 11th for my playreading – LAZYeye – and once again hoping to tap into that energy. But this has already been a great opportunity – and I am determined to create other opportunities like it as often as I can!

These days we all lead double lives. We’re busy running around but at the same time dreaming of how we’d much prefer to swim. Many of us are doing both things at once. It is the twenty-first century condition, and the subject of Peta Lily’s one-woman show, iN/Vocation.

Veteran performer Lily has lived several lives (not least that of the 15th century nun, as we learn in this show). She has written, starred in and directed a number of plays and shows. She has spent chunks of time meditating and experimenting with forms of Eastern spiritualism – although she would probably scoff at that term. And she has even been invited into boardrooms around the world to help build confidence in corporate bods. With her latest show, Lily brings all these lives together in a deep melting pot. Her goal in this wildly creative endeavour is to show her audience the complexities at play in modern life.

At first I felt dissatisfied with the way Lily appeared to be setting up her show. Whenever anyone says, “Which is why I learned to meditate,” in a didactic tone, I tend to turn off. I thought: I didn’t come for a sales pitch on meditation and yoga. But I continued watching, mostly because Lily has a lot of fun with her expressive face during this sequence. Then came the polarity I had been promised: when she slips out of her yoga slacks and into a tailored suit, the show picks up and the conflict at its heart becomes clear. Lily provides humorous insight on the differences between theatre and business. It is an easy comparison, but she has such an original approach and admirable turns of phrase that it all seems very fresh.

One of the show’s most fascinating sequences reveals how tricky it is for someone to spend their days as a confidence builder and corporate facilitator. When the suit comes off and the lights dim, how does that person facilitate their own life? Lily provides a brief but poignant psychological study. 4:48 Psychosis this is not, but it is moving.

On the other hand, the show is a lot of fun. Lily plays with countless props and director Di Sherlock has her using every corner of the space – high and low – complete with dynamic lighting that brings the one-woman show alive. But the bulk of the credit has to go to Lily. She is a deeply skilled performer, equally adept at lampooning corporate caricatures, singing seductively, changing character instantaneously and all the while making a serious point. It is nothing no one has thought of before – indeed most of us are thinking it everyday – but Lily has a way of reflecting very sharply this modern complexity.

As a journalist, by day I report on law in the corporate world but come evening I write unpublished novels, stories and theatre reviews. I was surprised by how easily Lily seemed to tap into my psyche and provoke me to ask sharp questions of myself. If you’re also leading a double life, I’d recommend iN/Vocation: Lily has a way of divining your thoughts and laying them out on the table for you to consider. She won’t tell you the answers (there are none), but she’ll make you feel good about being just another loser in the throng.

iN/Vocation runs until 25th June for the various times click here.

Adam Smith’s website is just over the road at http://adamesmith.wordpress.com/.

I am not talking about the set – although that is also crucial. I am talking about the brand of the play: poster, website and programme. A director’s resources are so finite that it is tempting to push all the money into the production itself, not the banners that tell the public about it. But that is exactly why design is important. Without a pretty poster, no one but actors’ lovers and pets will come and see the play.

Theatre is, after all, an aesthetic experience: look at the wet streets of Arthur Miller’s Brooklyn or the claustrophobia of Williams’ plantation mansion. Captured on stage, these images are pleasurable to look at. But the design does not stop there. The director is responsible for bringing these scenes to life but must also invest thought into the promotion of the production through delightful images.

The reason I am arguing for this now is that I saw an excellent production of Romeo & Juliet recently. It’s playing right now at the Leicester Square Theatre and I highly recommend it. But I saw it because I had been invited to review it, not because I had seen the poster. Had I come across this ugly poster design while browsing the online what’s on guides, I would have closed the window and deleted my cookies. I certainly would not have bought a ticket. But Linnie Reedman’s production is brilliant and her actors are perfect. It’s a shame that the brand didn’t match up. I hope it doesn’t turn too many potential audience members away.

One should not judge a play by its poster. But I fear that, in this competitive environment, it is exactly what happens.

Adam Smith’s website is just over the road at http://adamesmith.wordpress.com/.