Bren O’Callaghan A Runaway at the Media Circus!

16Feb/12

Stumpy the Unicorn

The love that dare not speak its name. Her parents no longer answer the phone.

Filed under: photography No Comments
15Feb/12

Black Elk and friends

It’s getting closer to delivery of my Larkin’ About / Library Theatre Company pervasive gaming commission at Manchester Histories Festival, Saturday 3rd March. The play test earlier this month was a valuable opportunity at a dry run, given that restrictions at the event site are preventing the design group from access prior to the day. Sure, we can pop in, sign into the visitor’s book and walk around, but we can’t know how our activities will bed down or clash with the existing usage and architecture of the building until the doors are flung open and we storm the palace.

Sioux warriors in Salford

My own game, Prairieland, requires participants to hunt down the animal totems of six Native Sioux who found themselves abandoned in Salford and Manchester after Buffalo Bill’s Wild West Exhibition and Congress of Rough Riders left after a successful extended stay in 1887-8. The animals are represented by transparent, colour-tagged balloons, camouflaged in full sight against the ornate gothic ceilings. On the reverse of each tag is an encrypted message, which must be decoded by the player using a sacred strip to reveal the name of the associated Sioux, although some are empty and require repeat attempts.

One of the Native Sioux Indians affected, Black Elk, wrote about his subsequent two-year journey to return home to North Dakota via London, Paris and Germany in his memoir, Black Elk Speaks. The fate of the rest remains unknown, although additional members of the troupe, including Sioux, stayed on in Manchester and Salford, married and integrated amongst the population. It is likely that some of the accompanying animals, from bison to elk and bronco, died of natural causes during their sojourn and are even now buried in local soil. Desiccated, dissolved and dispersed, their spirits seep and bleed through burrows beneath the ground to emerge and regroup in latex bubbles above.

2Feb/12

A distant rumble

If the experience of playing a game is intended, for the most part, to be joyful, then consider that the experience of attempting to create a game – from scratch – involves much wailing and gnashing of teeth. Planning and brain-bashing for the Larkin' About and Library Theatre Company commission continues. How to estimate a duration and end point, to avoid fatigue or boredom? If I don’t want one winner and many losers, how do I gently console those who don’t complete the requirements, whilst still celebrating those who do? Are themes of memory, loss, mourning and the silent cry of purgatorial souls suitable material for a playful treatment involving balloons? What of unknown latex allergies? Ai-ai-ai. Still, the initial shape is done. The play test awaits. My craft box has a few more items I am unlikely ever to use again, but on the plus side I have some lovely Ladybird books purchased as ‘research’. Here is an image from a bison hunt, which may have something to do with the work in progress. Oh, and I have a name for it at last.

Prairieland.

13Jan/12

Glassy eyed

Wandering around Manchester Town Hall today on my lunch break, hoping that inspiration might strike to help me build upon my commission by Larkin' About and Library Theatre Company for the Manchester Histories Festival. This is very much how my brain feels right now. A swirling pool whirlpool of research and ideas that needs to settle before I can row a boat out and sink a hook. Gorgeous windows. Glad I don't have to clean 'em. So many restricted spaces means that there isn't going to be much opportunity to run amok, exploring oubliettes, which is no bad thing. I must be disciplined. I must be static. Static doesn't have to be bad. I did take a fancy to a particular window alcove. I may go back with a large beach towel to claim my spot...

3Jan/12

No calories in dust

2Jan/12

Castle of Terror