Tag: andrew gaboury

dossier: Cathy Gordon for HAMMER / Summerworks

As the year chugs impressively forward, with no immediate end in its tunnel-esque sight, new relationships are building, strengthening and changing from what they once were. As one of the new Associate Directors of hub14, I’ve recently had the pleasure to spend time with the lovely Cathy Gordon, an artist who wears her heart on her sleeve and whose passion is easily admirable. You can see she’s always analyzing and, because of this, what she brings to a conversation, or piece of art, is truly unique. I had the pleasure to catch HAMMER earlier this year, when it had a showing in May at hub14, but somehow dropped the ball in getting a dossier built around it. 

This time around, however, not only have I appealed to Cathy for a dossier, I’m also going to be rather involved in the logistics of this incarnation as HAMMER is now being co-presented by Summerworks and hub14. And! As a bonus to this, because hub14 is going through a large change at the moment, with the old team of artistic directors moving out (Cathy being one of them) and us moving in, each of the five new ADs are going to be introducing HAMMER with a short, 10-minute piece of their own! Not only do you get to see this provocative piece of art from an integral member of hub14’s history, but you also get to see what the new guard is capable of! This is, if you can’t tell, really exciting to me (I haven’t even seen what my fellow cohort is capable of yet). 

Alright, straight to it.

dossier # 19:

Cathy Gordon

Who are we talking to?

Cathy Gordon

What drew you down this path? (to theatre, to wherever the hell you are in life)

Since I was a child I’ve been writing, directing and performing. I went to Canterbury School of the Arts for performance + then York University for Playwriting & Directing.

What is your earliest memory of realizing, yep, this is what I’m going to do with my life?

Playing with my dolls and realizing that I wanted to do many things with my life and as an actor, I could live all those lives within my one lifetime.

Why HAMMER?

In recent years, I’ve been doing a lot of different kind of performance (relational work, community work, installation work) and I wanted to get back “into the studio” – to create a piece with a more traditional actor / audience relationship. The quality of HAMMER is in line with some performances I had done years earlier as part of the annual Parkdale Project Read fundraiser. HAMMER in particular was inspired by reading the news one day in December 2012 and being struck by the level of violence against women that was making headlines across the globe. I was compelled to address this within my own family’s history of abuse.

What kind of atmosphere do you intend to set up, or can someone expect while attending HAMMER?

Well, people have said that it’s intense & compelling even if they are unsure of everything that is happening. On this version I’m working on clarifying certain moments while trying to avoid a whole lot of explaining. It’s true that I’m a pretty intense person but I’m also quite funny.

You’ve toured and performed in many festivals over the years. What is your favourite thing about bringing your work to a new audience?

Each audience has a collective boundary, I like to discover that boundary and really test it. I try to create a space that is charged with the energy of every single person in that room. However, I’m the one that is putting myself in a vulnerable position, and by trusting the audience to respect that, I hope to give people a real opportunity to invest in the experience without ever forcing anyone to do anything they don’t want to do.

What is your favourite memory from a past Summerworks experience? Or, what is your favourite memory from HAMMER’s development and production?

Chad Dembski has been my outside eye both in Montreal and this past May. He is the best. I’ve known & worked with Chad since the 1990’s and it was wonderful to reconnect with him (especially because I don’t see him as much since he moved to Montreal.)

Describe HAMMER in three adjectives, a phrase, or with sound.

Ok, I’ll take a line from video:

“Here is place where we pretend we are pretending but, really, we are telling the truth: our subjective truths”.

Do you have anything else you’d like to share? Photos, videos, links, posters, stories, wishes?

Here are some photos from rehearsal & the May production… I’m afraid I didn’t get any proper photographs, I just grabbed some images from the video.

And the schedule of opening acts for HAMMER are as follows:

Aug 8: Kate Nankervis

Aug 9: Coman Poon

Aug 14: Aria Evans (dance films)

Aug 15: Andrew Gaboury

Aug 16: Marie France Forcier

130 Tales: 31 through 40

The majority of entries in this decade paint a picture: a scene, a person, a place, an emotion, a moment between moments, the very act of making a decision. The first five seem to give you everything you expect: setting, character(s), action. Number 36 really stands out to me. It begins more cryptic, poetic. Only at the end do we get a glimpse of character. I think it may be my favourite of the 130 Tales so far because I don’t fully remember everything about it but every time I read it I like, more and more, what I discover in it. The last four revert to the aforementioned structure: setting, character(s), action – even sparse Number 38 and humble Number 39 show this. I’m happy, overall, with re-reading these; it seems the groove I fell into during the last decade is still pushing Past Me forward.

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130 Tales

31 – 40

31. The bus threw us from our seats. We laughed, heads dashing from smile to smile. Limbs flashing all around, animating redundancy.

32. It burns down his throat, cauterizing every crack and rip. The sting of health. His wrapped hand lowers the glass, red, newly wet.

33. Her lips absorb cold and rest on plastic. Dead eyes stare into the space beyond as a rainbow of cream dances in her stoic hands.

34. She smells of chocolate. He, probably of onions. He wants to say hello but is afraid she’ll laugh. We will never mix, he thinks.

35. His breath slows as shadowed stripes make-up her face. Inside, his heart plays a circus and he fears its trumpets will wake her.

36. Relief. Everywhere, it’s falling. Painting the ground with water like a phone call to say “I’m on my way.” A soft pat in my eye.

37. Head fuzzed, he tears the sheets in front of his eyes and finds the unknown. Muddled, he pushes hard, hands like clockwork.

38. Today, I think I’ll be three people.

39. The jovial brick exclaims, ‘Believe it or not This is the Place.’ Its youthful lustre shining amidst chipped paint and neon light.

40. The river never broke. Unlike the train stuck in its tunnel the people kept pouring in, clogging platform and stairwell.

130 Tales: 21 through 30

And already, it’s happened: I’ve fallen behind on posting these things that I’m literally copying and pasting from an open file, just like I had fallen behind in the creation of these 130 Tales the first time. I do, however, think I have a reasonable excuse, but excuses are excuses and really what I need to do is realize yes, I can write posts days in advance and set them to automatically publish at the future time of my choosing. Any way, with Fringe taking the majority of my time and my not having the internet at home, and, oh yeah, that flood / black-out thing that happened in Toronto yesterday (ugh… still managed to squeeze those excuses in here somehow, didn’t I? Why am I not surprised?) I’m finally posting the next instalment, the third instalment of 130 Tales today. Wednesday. Not Monday (really, I’m the only one keeping track of this).

This, like I said in my last addition to 130 Tales, is where, I think, the tales get interesting. I actually enjoy the majority of what was written in this decade; I feel like I finally let myself have fun with the limitations set upon myself. Let’s hope it continues until the end.

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130 Tales

# 21 – 30

21. His eyes flutter above the scrim, from rope to hinge, weight and follow. Swallowed in black he alights on actor: jealous white.

22. The blade, sharp as wit feels nothing. Gliding smooth beneath his hand it curls up flesh, wood and finds buried treasure.

23. The three of them stare, reddened. Born of different times and morals, they finally become one as she dances this duet, partnered.

24. Form deflated, eyes down. She walks awkwardly, catching herself. Her lips read her thoughts: “Why haven’t I grown out of this?”

25. I second guess my hunger as I stand in a cafe watching two fruit flies court amidst the sugary folds of a strawberry Danish.

26. As she leaves he steals her eyes one last time. A short kiss without ever touching. Gifts given, they smile deeper than any other.

27. His hands open this book methodically. His fingers lick every page, tasting its life, eyes digesting himself for the last time.

28. I can hear the bass’ vibrations enter my shoulder; it is a touch, resting on glass, that caresses two of my five senses.

29. Her foot often kicks air. It is a hobby, if feet can have hobbies. But there it goes, kicking as the city shrinks out the window.

30. His heart screams. A breath is stopped, bubbling, boiling. Yet he sits, legs crossed, unable to move. Almost there.