On Monday, 26 April 2021, at 9am EDT, Stephen Johnson talked with Jenn Cole about her first experiences with Performance--her 'First Gatherings.' That conversation is included below, in full. You can find out more about her life, scholarship and performance practice here.
Watching the entire interview gives a sense of the full range of influences of someone who was both a spectator and a performer while growing up near Deep River, Ontario, and visiting relatives across southern Ontario. Jenn's memories include attending a concert of celebrity impersonators and wanting to impersonate them (at seven), being deeply impressed by trapeze artists visiting her highschool from Kingston, and performing dance, gymnastics and acrobatics in classes and competitions--but also with her cousins in the courtyard of her grandmother's apartment building, for an audience watching from balconies. She remembers the strange, and new experience of watching theatrical productions from backstage in her high school, and of a road trip to Stratford. Presented here for your viewing pleasure, the lesson learned that life is filled with performances witnessed and performed, in as many different venues as we can imagine--from Stratford to an apartment building's garden (what a theatre!); and performances ranging from a (not the) Madonna, through to the Shakespearean actor and the high school strangeness of Our Town. A full transcript will be posted later.
A Conversation with Jenn Cole
TRANSCRIPT
GATHERINGS: ARCHIVAL AND ORAL HISTORIES OF PERFORMANCE
First Gatherings Project; Interview with Jenn Cole by Stephen Johnson
On 26th April 2021. See website recording and introduction
Full consent given by both parties for posting.
***
Stephen: Hello, Jenn
Jenn: Oh, hi, Stephen.
Stephen: Thank you so much for agreeing to do this. I believe I should start this by asking you, and recording, just who you are, on this 26th of April 2021, in this year of our pandemic, at 9:26 AM. And, if you could just say who you are, and could you tell me that you have read the consent documents, and that you agree to the consent documents.
Jenn: Oh, yeah, I can tell you. I'll just tell you right now that, yes, I've read the consent document—
Stephen: Good.
Jenn: —and agree to all things as they appear there. Yeah, I'm Jenn Cole. I'm mixed ancestry Algonquin from Kiji Sibi territory, which is the Ottawa River watershed. And I grew up in the bush right next to Deep River, Ontario, which is Ontario's first planned community, built by the federal government to support the building of the nuclear power plant in the 40s. I am a performer and untrained dancer. I also really like dramaturgy and outside eye work. I am learning to work collaboratively in circle with other human beings, which is something I didn't like for quite a while. I mostly did solo work that I choreographed in my living room and then would only show it when it was, like, showtime. I'm a really undisciplined performer, and I only have a dance practice if I'm working on a thing. And I also identify as an Indigenous feminist performance scholar, and I teach at Trenton, in Gender and Social Justice Studies, and work with Marrie Mumford as Associate Artistic Producer at Nozhem: First Peoples' Performance Space.
Stephen: Thank you so much for that. That about covers it. The preliminary questions that I had sent you, had to do with describing yourself, your training and education, and you as an audience member. And I think you've covered that briefly. And, of course, more will come out as we proceed. I specifically wanted to talk, in this talk, in this interview, with— a first influential experience. And actually tease that out, and spend some time on that. And, since you received the questions in advance, I'm sure you've been thinking about it, and I wonder if you could just, in general, give me a precis, a description of what that first experience with performance was: the one that you think of when you think of that significant performance.
Jenn: Yeah, I appreciate these questions so much, Stephen. It's been so lovely—
Stephen: Yes. I should add—
Jenn: —to think of how performance came into my life—
Stephen: Yes.
Jenn: —in the last few days, and kind of holding those relationships, and—
Stephen: Good.
Jenn: It's almost like doing a micro-history.
Stephen: Absolutely.
Jenn: Yeah, I like it. And I think this will serve your questions about performance and our co-project of expanding notions of performance, because growing up in the bush doesn't allow one very much access to live theatre. And so, when I was tracing early performance history— I'll just, like, tick on a couple of these, and then share how I came into performance. But it's mostly as a performer, rather than as an audience member. And so, I was practicing performance for longer than I was really seeing a lot of performance or being exposed to it. So, early performance memories... When I was seven, I went with my cousin, my mom, and my, like, older cousin, second cousin, to an impersonation musical concert. And so, there was an Elvis impersonator. And all of the audience members were performing, like, fan hysteria, and so, everyone was at the stage like 'aaaaa!' And I remember asking my mom, "Mom, can I go up to the front of the stage and do that?" And I just went into that, like, into that frenzy, and experienced it. And then, the next performer was a Madonna impersonator, and she was wearing the cone bra and had this long blonde ponytail and was, like, flipping that around. And there was a lot of striptease elements to what was happening. And so, my mom, like, ushered us in and was like "We gotta get out of here. This isn't for kids." And afterwards, I did a lot of Madonna dance routines. I'm just gonna show you: for, like, the first part, it's to Madonna's "Like a Prayer." It was, like, two arms descending, [demonstrates] and then, like, a turn around, and then we would blow bubbles and do cartwheels. And I don't know if that's the thing that started this thing, but my nan lived in this apartment building in Belleville, and my cousins and I used to get together, and we would do dance routines for the tenants in the building, who were mostly elderly. So we would work on a dance, which usually had some acrobatics, and then we would go into the lobby, and just buzz into every apartment building, and say, "We're doing a dance performance at two, on the west side of the building." And then, all these old ladies would come onto their balconies and watch us. And we would, like, hit 'play,' and do these performances, and then they'd throw candy down to us. And that felt so great. It was, like, for them, you know? It was a present for them. And that is still how I think of performance. Totally, completely. And I'm still fully willing to be paid in Mentos. Do it for the love. And then, yeah, after that I was— So, still, like, no other real live performance. I also grew up, sometimes, in open AA meetings. And— which is part of my family story. And I think of those as, like, really powerful storytelling performance spaces. Because the formula of that story is: This was the chaos of my life before. This was the turning moment. This is the work that it took to be sober. And then, this is my life now. And those stories are so powerful. And they were always just told by local people that I knew. There was always, like, coffee and whitener. And my brother and I would just drink that— at, like, 8 PM. And often there was a birthday cake. So, birthday celebrations of sobriety are really important. And so, there was this air of celebration. But I also got to hear these really genuine stories. And the purpose of those stories is to, like, save people's lives. It's so beautiful, I think, that I got to experience that kind of storytelling, which was also really, like, for the audience— and for the person doing the telling. Then I was a gymnast. And our gymnastics club, our rural gymnastics club, had a recreational-competitive program. So, that's, like, pre-provincial. So, from Kingston to North Bay was kind of our area for competition. We had really weird floor routines. We weren't really like gymnasts gymnasts. We didn't really know that. But our dance routines were about, like, dancing. And I remember my coach's daughter choreographed a routine for me. I can't remember if it was to the Dragon Bruce Lee soundtrack or if it was to the "Rocketeer" soundtrack, but she was like, "Do you wanna end in victory or defeat?" And these were the possibilities! Like, I could be, like, spread across the floor, or I could be like, "ah!" And we did all these weird routines, and then I became a coach. And so, then, I was choreographing routines. And I was just following my intuition and how my body wanted to respond to music. Still, there was no competitive dance scene locally, I don't think... I'd never seen dance, ever. I also had a dress that was called my rain-playing dress. And it was, like, this grandmother print, maternity affair— like, smock. Anyway, when it would rain I would put it on, and then I would run outside, and then I would dance in the rain. Like, just [demonstrates] dance! And my parents got really used to it, but I think it's just, like, been part of me in a really dorky and intuitive way, not a cool way. And then, I want to say the first performance that I saw, that I felt met me, was a trapeze dance. The Royal Military College had a circus program maybe, and they sent two people to do this demonstration. And the song was Savage Garden's Truly, Madly, Deeply, which was perfect for my 14-year-old palate. It was, like, that and then Nine Inch Nails. And then, I think the dance was, like, you know, lovers, and then isolation and distance, and conflict. And then, they came together in the end, or something. Like, that story. Also perfect for my 14-year-old palate. But I was so moved. I was actually moved to tears, and I was hugely excitable afterwards. And I remember it not really landing with my friends. I was like, "That was amazing! Like, they told the whole story just with their bodies! They didn't even use their mouths. I understood everything that was happening. I had all the feelings!" And they were just kind of, like, Let's go to math class, or whatever. But I experienced that in a really cool way. And then, I don't know if I saw a snippet of Cirque du Soleil on CBC. We only had two channels in our house, because cable didn't reach as far as our place.
Stephen: Yeah.
Jenn: But I started going to the Public Library, and they had three Cirque du Soleil performances on VHS tape. And I would watch those. And knew about those. And I think— I think it was that RMC performance that could be the performance. Because— and I hope you— This is, like, a weird thing about interviews, where the interviewee just goes on at length, and then becomes self- conscious that she's talking too much. Even though I think that is the purpose of the thing.
Stephen: It is the purpose. Don't be self-conscious, you're— You know, the less I talk the better.
Jenn: Okay, I have a little bit more and then maybe—
Stephen: Absolutely
Jenn: —ask me whatever you want to.
Stephen: I do. I will and I do. But you keep going.
Jenn: Okay, awesome. In my high school, the arty, poetry-writing, fringe-dressing weirdos did not act. In my high school, the actors were the well-adjusted jocks. And the arty ones were the living-in-the-darkness stage crew, which even had this gesture [shows gesture]. Like,'darkness!' And we built the sets. We moved the sets. We mocked the actors. There was a kind of rivalry, and it was very rare for an arty person to transcend. Like, to go to the other side. And as part of my work in backstage, which I really enjoyed— like, I loved the magic of that, and the buzz and the high stakes and the multi high school generational hangout that didn't happen in a lot of other spaces... I liked that. I liked watching theatre from backstage. And then, as part of that work, I became the junior rep for our theatre arts company club. And that meant that I was asked to be on the casting jury for our next play. And then, this teacher came to our high school, who was way too weird and cool to be a teacher in our high school. And that person was Graham Wolfe. And he was directing his first play in our high school, which was Thornton Wilder's "Our Town." And, during casting, he said, "Why don't you just read, just so that I can see, or whatever. And then, I was like, ""Okay.""" And then I read, and then he was like, "Yeah, I think you're going to be the stage manager," and then I was just suddenly acting. And -- that big memorization feat. And then, I was in his drama classes, and we were learning about acting technique, and practicing all this stuff... But I'd still never really seen live performance, like, live theatre.
Stephen: Yeah.
Jenn: So, after "Our Town," somehow it came out. And Graham, who was Mr. Wolfe at that time, was like, "You've never seen a live performance? We're going to take you! And so, he and" my friend Jacqueline Gilks' mom, and Jacqueline Gilks drove— Jacqueline's mom drove us all to Ottawa to see an Ottawa U performance of Mackers. And I couldn't afford to go, so they just use money from the Theatre Arts Fund to pay for my ticket or whatever. And then, that was a really stupid performance. There was something cool that happened with the witches. Like, I think that had some, something, but all I really remember is this man just yelling the whole time. He was like, 'arrrgh ghrrh!' the whole time. And it was very one note. And I couldn't feel anything happening, and I'd been doing, like, Sonia Moore Stanislavski exercises and all that stuff, and so, I was like, "No! You're supposed to be in the moment and have a motivation. And I'm supposed to feel like you're a human being with stuff going on. Where is the subtext?" And then, I know in Shakespeare there's not really, like, subtext. It's just, like, the text. But still. It was very silly. And it took a while. It took a while before I saw performance that really brought me in. And when I came to university, I started to be able to access student-price tickets at Market Hall Performing Arts Centre. And Public Energy was really brilliant at bringing in all kinds of great performance from around the province. And they did everything. Bill Kimball was running it, and he has a really open and diverse palate. So, we were seeing physical theatre. We were seeing dance. We saw Koba. Chekhov's shorts was so amazing, and I don't remember what company did that. There was Indigenous performance. We got to see Santee Smith's Skywoman performance. There was, like, all this stuff going on. And then, also locally, a dance festival that's the most socialist thing that happens in this town, I think. And Public Energy just lets anyone apply to do a 5 to 12 minute dance performance, and supplies the tech and also some dance mentorship and training, and does all of the publicity and everything, schedules everybody, and then pays the artist out of the box office. So, I guess it's, like, somewhat of a Fringe model, but just everyone who applies gets to do it. And so, I saw a lot of distinct performances from many weirdos and amazing people, and some was so successful and some was super weird, and anything could happen. It could be, like, someone with a trumpet who couldn't really play the trumpet, on a ladder with some digital projections. It could be dance that was really, you know, from particular schools. You know, trained bodies doing stuff. That's never as interesting to me. But I think you're hearing the back story of the training, which is, like: by doing performance, and then, once in a while, getting a choreographic workshop or something, that I just found how to do a thing in the way that I like to do it, and then I'd get to like a bunch of other things.
Stephen: This is fantastic, Jenn. I appreciate you. And, of course, it doesn't surprise me. You've managed to, you know, address most of the things that I might have quizzed you on if you weren't going into detail, but you did go into detail. Here is the first thing that I take from what you say: how broad and varied your performance experience was, despite— You know, you're saying you had two channels on television and no access to things that were called theatre, or theatrical productions, until you were, you know— As you say, it was your high school teacher, a mutual friend of ours, who had to take you to the theatre. I don't think that's an unusual experience for people growing up in Ontario -- or for people growing up, period. How many people have access to things that are called theatre?
Jenn: Right.
Stephen: And I think you get to university, and— or to a larger urban place— and these things open up to you. But I wanted to ask— You know, I want to go back to the trapeze.
Jenn: OK.
Stephen: Which may or may not have had something to do with the Royal Military College, I guess.
Jenn: Yeah, it did. For sure.
Stephen: Your— It spoke to you, and it did not speak to your friends. And that is interesting to me because there's a background that you had, then, that they did not have. I mean, there are many other things besides just a particular background, but there's something going on there... Who else was in attendance at this? Was it a school performance?
Jenn: I think the whole school.
Stephen: The whole school.
Jenn: I think we all fit in the gym.
Stephen: OK.
Jenn: Maybe we fit in the gym in two sessions, or something like that, but I'm pretty sure it was my whole high school.
Stephen: And why do you think that it would speak to you and make you— and grab you. And make you respond in the way you did, but not your friends? Was it the dance and gymnastics background? Did they not have that? Was it something else? You know, was it the, you know, impersonation concert you went to when you were seven years old? No, probably not that. But, you know, like, what— Was there something in particular that made you into the person who would respond to that in the way that you responded to it? Which is viscerally, and the fact that it was so deeply meaningful to you, in a way that apparently it wasn't to the people that were around you.
Jenn: Yeah, I love this question. I— OK— When I picture how that looked, there's theatrical lighting: I'm not sure that there was. The sound system is amazing: and I don't know that it was.
Stephen: Yes.
Jenn: I was so in that dual place of the imagination and the material body. And I was watching body knowledge, right? Like, I was watching really smart, intelligent bodies speaking without using verbal language, and I understood what they were doing. And they were also showing me something that I hadn't had the opportunity to see a lot of people do.
Stephen: Yes.
Jenn: But when I was in my gymnastics routine, I wasn't just like, "Ping! Let's get a 9.9 score by moving my body perfectly," but was, like, feeling the music.
Stephen: Yes.
Jenn: And feeling the story. Like, the role was about something.
Stephen: Can I just interrupt there to ask what— and— Were you legitimately encouraged in this attitude towards gymnastics, rather than the way it might have been?
Jenn: Yup.
Stephen: Which was to try to get you to suppress that, in favor of the competitive aspects of gymnastics?
Jenn: Yeah. I think we had really well-rounded training. And the coaches were primarily parents of competitive athletes, and so were interested in holistic care for the whole person. So... Yeah, and we just didn't— It was— We didn't have anyone to represent to us a more— a less— a less wacky way.
Stephen: Yes.
Jenn: And, yeah, anyone who was choreographing our routines just really went for this creative thing. We just valued the creative possibilities of dance. I remember this one gymnast, Heidi, had in her routine, because of how the music was going— and maybe this was appropriative, now that I think of it. But she was doing a headstand, and then her body became the basket, and then her legs, like, swivelled out like a snake from a basket. And we got this sense of place. Yeah, we just did stuff like that. The whole club. Everyone was on board for that. And then, we did hear whisperings, when we would go to meets, that our routines were way weirder than anyone else's, where they were just trying to hit the skills and get the points or whatever. But yeah, I would say it was actively encouraged. And it was the only thing that we really knew.
Stephen: Yeah. And was there a context around that, that you were aware of, that would not have encouraged that, given a different, a slightly different scenario? I mean, was there— there was a layer of encouragement around you, and then around that was a layer that might not have been so encouraging? And I ask that in part because of what you say about the acting club, and that clear distinction, which I find— I have to say, I find fascinating— between the onstage people and the backstage people. That's a very, very interesting distinction, and it resonates with me, in my life. Very interesting.
Jenn: Interesting.
Stephen: And, like, it's as if there's— Well, of course, you know, in high schools there are always groups of people that, you know— there are clear groups of people, and they get along with each other, or they associate with each other, or they don't. And that's common, but there's a cultural distinction there and an aesthetic distinction. A real aesthetic distinction between the crowd that took art, and the crowd that took drama, and the crowd that took music. Why there should be that distinction, I wouldn't care to say. And I— It sounds like there was that kind of distinction, and that you had a context within which you could play the way you did and perform the way you did. But the folks over in this area didn't have the same context or encouragement. I'm reading into that, but it's a question.
Jenn: Yeah, I wonder. And I don't really know the people who directed shows before Mr Wolfe directed shows. We also had an art teacher replace an older art teacher. And she was from OCAD. She was really excited about experimentation. She actually taught us how to make art. So, we had crits, and there were beautiful classes on technique, and all this stuff. And that was a really big switch from what had previously been done. And she became a set designer also. And so, there was this way that the arties were becoming integrated. She did a back— I think it was for "Annie." I'm quite certain it was for "Annie." She made this beautiful impressionist cityscape backdrop, that in our school had never been attempted. You know, anything abstract—
Stephen: Yes.
Jenn: —not directly representational, hadn't really been tried, I don't think. So, it was a good time to arrive into the mix, I think. And I would say the context changed after that, or the divisions changed after that. Arty kids started performing more. I think— I don't know that this is useful for the interview, but I think our grade was the grade— or, our cohort was the cohort that broke down the jock-freak— What was the other one? I feel like there were jocks, freaks... Oh, and bushies! Bush lads— who are, like, people living with lower income, who live in the bush, and who know how to hunt and trap and fish, and who also ride skidoos. So, like, that was the triad. But bushies were never often part of doing theatre.
Stephen: And what relationship did you have with each of those, yourself?
Jenn: Oh, that's in the teen memoirs, Stephen.
Stephen: And I look forward to reading that.
Jenn: I didn't— I think I came in pretty strongly as a freak, and then— But also lived in the bush—
Stephen: Yes.
Jenn: —out of town. But wasn't part of the community that—
Stephen: Right.
Jenn: —were just in other towns over. And I didn't really fit with well-adjusted athletes, who did team sports. I wasn't really into that. I didn't really fit anywhere. I kind of was outside but touching into, yeah, into different groups.
Stephen: Alright.
Jenn: —forming myself, as authentically as possible.
Stephen: I'm at a place where I'm not sure what to ask, because it's all very— I mean, this is exactly— To be clear— and I don't mind saying it for a transcript, and you know, in a recording— this is exactly the kind of thing I wanted to hear about, because to me, it— You're talking about the breadth of exposure that you did have to performance of many kinds. And, on the one hand, there is a breadth of exposure. On the other hand, there are very clear, distinct places, where you went, and you didn't go, you weren't supposed to go, you had to go, even when you mentioned grades. You know, you say— You started off by saying maybe that wasn't really pertinent to the conversation. Sure, it is. Because, you know, when you were doing gymnastics, you might have been encouraged to think entirely about the competitive side of it and whether— and how you would be graded on it. But you weren't. And it's just so in all of the different kinds of creative work that you did and you were encouraged to do. This is a very interesting distinction, and it all depends on the people that are right there on, you know, on top of things.
Jenn: Yeah, the people who are right there... [inaudible, overlap]
Stephen: I mean, more than anything else, in everything you've said, it depends on that person who walks into the room and leads the discussion, or leads the performance, or gives you the right word to go in a particular direction.
Jenn: Mhm, yeah.
Stephen: And, of course, going back to the beginning of this conversation, the accidental trip to, you know, the impersonation concert, which clearly you remember vividly.
Jenn: It left an impression. And, you know, I was thinking about why it was able to. And I think the prohibition was a huge sense of how the memory embedded itself. So, we weren't shamed, but I didn't know that some performance was for kids and some performance wasn't for kids. And I didn't know that a really embodied sexuality and, like, a cone bra that I had never seen before, which was hugely interesting to me— I was with that performer! I didn't know that that wasn't allowed, or it embodied something that was for later. I wasn't making that connection. And I knew she was performing sexuality, insofar as I understood that when I was seven or whatever. But I thought it was pretty great, and I was surprised to learn that we were not able to continue. And it's possible our moms had a read on what was coming next. Maybe that was what we weren't permitted to see. Like, a lady in her underpants or whatever. Yeah. But I think that had a lot of palpable energy around it. It was like, so much newness. Oh, there's a way to perform fandom. I know Elvis is some famous guy that old people like. But now here he kind of is. Yeah, it was a lot of newness. So, that must be part of why it went in forever. Plus there was more to come. And so, I'm still in this suspended state: who was the next performer? Was it Johnny Cash?
Stephen: And you'll never know! Well, there's a theatre history project. You'll have to go back and find the program for that. That's very, very interesting. I really appreciate your talking about all of this. I mean, I can ask other questions that I wrote down and that I delivered to you about significant moments and the insignificant moments. It was something that seemed— about these particular events that you've described to me— and what is— if there's something that you think is missing, that you ought to remember, but you can't. Or that you remember vividly but has nothing to do with anything. A piece of costume, or what audience members wore, or, you know, the door to the entrance of the place. These things that just— you know, how there are these things stick in your mind, and you have no idea why. And sometimes there's a reason, and sometimes there is no reason.
Jenn: Yeah.
Stephen: And I wonder if there's any of that, that— Might a statement of that resonate with you in any way for any of these things.
Jenn: Yeah. I appreciate the kind of broadness of the question. I think that's something I came to learn about how I connected to performance. So, not about what constitutes good or not good performance. It won't surprise you to hear that I prefer off-cannon, in-progress work. I'm really interested in that. And it has been the case, I think, since I was small, that it's never really landed for me. So, I'm just remembering two performances that I saw in theatres. One in eighth grade: on a trip to Ottawa, we went to see a French play at the NAC. I just remember, like, lit bodies moving around the stage, and one really fancy dress. But it just looked like people talking at each other on stage. I was not interested. And I went to see "As you like it" in Stratford, I think in later highschool. I had completely forgotten that. But I was also bored. Period. I was bored! I remembered the dinner afterwards. I remember the company of the people I was with. I remember swans, that was so nice. But I— like [makes a sound], the performance— I couldn't connect! And I think it would be really fun to analyze that, knowing what I know now and having more experience with performance. I think I prefer when the body is really part. And when there's a level of abstraction, where it's the thing beside the thing, instead of the thing itself. I got that language from Meagan O'Shea in a choreographic workshop, where she was like: "Just go for the thing beside the thing!" You know? "What is that thing? Then dance that thing." And I'm so interested in all of the relationships that, like, blow out of doing that, rather than— I mean, probably also there are other interpretations of the scripts that I would enjoy.
Stephen: Yes.
Jenn: I think there has— for me, with performance, if there's play, if there's a lot of risk that's visible— For instance, Denise Fujiwara doing that Butoh performance that was for her mentor, where she came out twirling those long sticks. And she was just Butoh-ing the entire time, and the risk of that is, like, you're not going to be in ultimate presence for just a slippage of a millisecond. But she was completely present the entire time. I've never experienced that before or probably afterwards in such a sensate way, or sensory way. Yeah, I like that. I like when it's exciting, and people aren't just demonstrating— Well, she was demonstrating virtuosity, for sure— But aren't just doing their craft in a really great way.
Stephen: When you go— I understand everything you're saying, I think. And, of course, we're all attracted to different kinds of theatre. And, as you rightly say, it all depends on the interpretation of the the play text. I mean, you're not going to see a play text. You're going to see a performance. And that could be very visual. It could be dance-oriented. It could be many things.
Jenn: Yes.
Stephen: When you went to this particular performance that you refer to as that you just don't remember the performance itself. You remember going. You remember the swans. You remember this... I've had these experiences myself. And I think: well, what was it about the performance, and what was it about everybody else in the performance? Were you there with a school group? Or were you there on your own? Or were you there with your family? Or, like, who else is in the audience, and how were they responding?
Jenn: Yeah. Yeah! So, I think this. I was with my friend Jacqueline Gilks again, and her mom, and our friend, who was another teacher in the high school, Judy Dickens. And— It was nice! Maybe Jacqueline's sister was there too. It was a field trip for family. We were going to stay in a hotel. It had a lot of positive, exciting—
Stephen: Yes.
Jenn: —getting-out-of-the-small-town things about it. What I felt in the audience— We're really hitting on something! It's, like, getting psychoanalytic, Stephen. What I felt in the audience was veneration. And I resent that.
Stephen: Right.
Jenn: I haven't read the Harry Potter series because there's too much hype— and now the transphobia. But, even before that, I was like: people like it too much, so I don't like it.
Stephen: OK, well that's gonna [inaudible overlap] that's gonna set you up. That's certainly going to set you up to have a problem—
Jenn: Oh, yeah. For sure.
Stephen: —with going into that particular space in that particular town. With no, you know, no reflection on the intentions there, you enter it, with a particular mindset. Saying: well, why am I here?
Jenn: I think I thought— I think I was learning something there. So, I think I thought: "We're going to Stratford, which is, like, the place where theatre happens. And I like theatre—" or, I'm learning that I like theatre. And then we went. And then there was all this anticipation, but also this set understanding that what was happening was wonderful. And then, I just couldn't really connect to it, but I did still feel that audience vibration of, like: 'it's Stratford!' But I was like: Oh, I don't know...
Stephen: Yes.
Jenn: So, I think maybe it's, like, a retroactive resentment. Though I'm sure I have always, consistently, my whole life, not really, naturally trusted or respected authority. I— yeah... I think I was developing that understanding in the moment.
Stephen: But that's— Your introduction to performance, and your experience of performance, was exactly that. It was non-traditional, whatever traditional is. But it wasn't going to Stratford from the beginning of your life, and treating that with a particular respect, because that was how I was going to get my my theatrical education.
Jenn: Right.
Stephen: There was something else going on for many years before you entered that theatre, went into that space.
Jenn: Yes.
Stephen: So, you respond to it in a particular way, and then come back to it later and read into it. I mean, that's me reading into it at all. And, as we all do, reading my own experience with Stratford into that. Because I was taken from a very early age— And it's not my interview, so I won't go into that.
Jenn: Oh! But maybe later!
Stephen: But, you know, I mean it was. You know, you're taken there when you're very, very young, and this is a big deal. But then, years later, I think we all ask: well, now, why was it a big deal? You know? I otherwise didn't go to the theatre. And my parents didn't go to the theatre. But we went to Stratford.
Jenn: OK! Yeah.
Stephen: And why did we go to Stratford? Because it wasn't really theatre. It was a part of a very important cultural education, and if we were going to be members of a community, well, you needed to go. So, my parents dutifully went. I don't think they were attuned to it anymore than their children were, which is very interesting. We were all learning. We were all being acultured in— at the same time. And I remember that part of it. But I too don't remember much of the performances, except— And I'm only saying these things about my own experience because they resonate with yours. I remember visual things so vividly! Parts of costumes, set pieces, things floating down from the rafters! [inaudible, overlap] These wonderful things!
Jenn: Yeah.
Stephen: Do I remember the play? The plot? Not early on. But then, how would I? I mean, wasn't it a foreign language to you?
Jenn: Yes, yes. Oh, yes. Hugely.
Stephen: I mean, you know, it's only later that we start to realize what— I mean, even with the narrative was. I always— I have to say, I've always thought about Stratford: thank goodness for the plot synopsis in the program! When I was young, oh my goodness, I had no idea what was going on most of the time. But I loved watching the costumes, and I loved watching the, you know, like, the other things that were happening.
Jenn: Yeah, the lighting. I think I remember lighting. And the actress was on a rope swing. Sometimes? But also, that was the cover image from the brochure, so that might be what I remember!
Stephen: So, that might be it. Yes. Yes. But that's very interesting. And I don't want to— I mean, I don't want to belabour that. In fact, your visit to Stratford was quite late, and was not— It wasn't really formative.
Jenn: No! And I had forgotten it until this moment. And so—
Stephen: Interesting.
Jenn: It was your prompting: like, what is not memorable. I was like: oh, yeah, there was that whole thing. But it was set up to be hyper memorable.
Stephen: Yes. That's interesting.
Jenn: And it was a huge gift. I know these two moms thought: this is a theatre kid. We're gonna take her! We're going to take her, and it's gonna be amazing! And then, I was like: this dinner is amazing!
Stephen: Well, that's another kind of performance. You know, having a dinner—
Jenn: Yeah, the dinner.
Stephen: —in a place you're not used to going to is—
Jenn: Oh, yeah.
Stephen: —a real treat.
Jenn: Well, maybe this sets you up a little bit. Like, living in the bush, as, like, a creative person, and a fairly solitairy person, I was always hungry for other experiences. And my mom lived in North Bay for quite a while, and so I would take the Greyhound bus to see her. And the visits were, like, fine and good and various, but the Greyhound rides out of town with strangers to talk to about their worlds: that was really great. So, maybe, you know, getting out of town was the best part of going to Stratford. But maybe that was going to happen anyway.
Stephen: Yes, I think that's— I think that gets to the heart of what I'm interested in talking about: is everything that surrounds that performance event. It sets you up to experience the performance event in a particular way.
Jenn: Yeah.
Stephen: And I realize that I'm including a visit to a restaurant or to your mother, you know—
Jenn: Yeah.
Stephen: —in that performance event. But it's a part of going to Stratford. It's a part of going to the very first performance you went to. There's a space you go to with a particular set of expectations, and then to have those expectations disrupted, but also reinforced: all of those things.
Jenn: I'm just imagining the trapeze performance, which was probably slightly bad. I'm imagining that at Stratford: my mind would have been blown. I would have gone to theatre school. With all the set up...
Stephen: Yeah.
Jenn: And then, like, this is what it is?
Stephen: Yeah.
Jenn: I'd be like: I want that. I want that thing: that's what I would have thought. And I did think about doing a dance program out of high school. And my art teacher, who knew about Toronto, encouraged me to do so. But I had no training, and so—
Stephen: Yeah.
Jenn: —I felt that I would fail the audition. And she said: sometimes they're actually looking for the spirit that you bring, or whatever. And I probably wouldn't have done very well in the dance program, the technical parts. Yeah, again, see? I just need to be with artist slackers, who are also really dedicated to their craft. The amateurs, that's where I like hanging out.
Stephen: Yes. I mean, to the degree that we can really define— I mean, as soon we say 'amateur' and 'professional', we're setting ourselves up for a mindset, and, you know, a cultural, a set of cultural definitions that you don't ascribe to. That's why you— You know?
Jenn: Mostly. I guess I would say 'professional' is, like, certain training trajectories, lots of funding, lots of public funding structures in place for long periods of time that support the work to happen: less grant by grant.
Stephen: Yes.
Jenn: You know, funding structures, stuff like that. That's what I think of.
Stephen: But that's only one definition, and same with amateur.
Jenn: Sure.
Stephen: Amateur is a person who loves what they do, strictly speaking.
Jenn: Right.
Stephen: Anyway, we've talked for an hour now.
Jenn: That's too long for an interview.
Stephen: And I think that perhaps it's time to end this part of the conversation.
Jenn: Yes.
Stephen: So, I'm going to thank you very much for this: I'm sure the first of many such conversations.
