{"id":271,"date":"2022-10-30T08:21:13","date_gmt":"2022-10-30T08:21:13","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.critical-stages.org\/26\/?p=271"},"modified":"2022-10-31T21:36:27","modified_gmt":"2022-10-31T21:36:27","slug":"climate-crisis-theatre-by-youth-for-adults-interview-with-kristina-watt-villegas","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.critical-stages.org\/26\/climate-crisis-theatre-by-youth-for-adults-interview-with-kristina-watt-villegas\/","title":{"rendered":"Climate Crisis Theatre by Youth for Adults: Interview with Kristina Watt Villegas"},"content":{"rendered":"\n

by Matthew Venner<\/strong>*<\/a><\/p>\n\n\n\n

Kristina Watt Villegas is a multi-award-winning actor, director, theatre creator and educator. Currently based out of Ottawa, Canada, Watt has worked as an independent artist in Colombia, the United States and the United Kingdom, and she is the founder of 100 Watt Productions, a theatre company known for collaborating with young people to create inventive, ecocentric, eco-curious theatre, staging playful yet political explorations of humanity\u2019s relationship with the planet. Her work carries significant research potential for recent youth-led manifestations of the global climate movement; her most recent production, titled 12<\/em>, created in collaboration with young Ottawans age thirteen through seventeen, is the company\u2019s most urgent call for climate action to date, having toured theatres, schools, board rooms and government offices across Canada\u2019s capital region. The performance is elastic, raw and multi-faceted, composed of a mixture of brief vignettes, poetic compositions and verbatim excerpts regarding climate crises. Watt describes it as a \u201ccross-generation love story\u2014a playful theatrical invitation [by young people] to stop, listen, and to consider what it actually means to take action at this point\u201d (Watt, \u201cCreations 12<\/em>\u201d). The newly developed 12<\/em> will be at the Great Canadian Theatre Company in May 2023.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

For my Master of Arts\u2019 final research thesis, I wrote about 100 Watt Productions and applied theatre created by young people that targets adult audiences, rather than youth audiences, a TYA-inversion of sorts. The thesis project is available to read through the University of Ottawa\u2019s digital repository for research and includes full-length transcripts of my interviews with Kristina Watt Villegas. In the following condensed version of these interviews, we discuss her company, her creation process, her pedagogy and 12<\/em>\u2019s particular political resonances.<\/p>\n\n\n

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Kristina Watt: Photo: Courtesy Kristina Watt<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n<\/div>\n\n\n

I guess we may as well start from the beginning: how did you come to name your theatre company?<\/p>\n\n\n\n

So, 100 Watt Productions\u2019 long name is 100 Watt Productions: Innocent Anarchy, and that innocent anarchy is consistent through all the work I do. It encapsulates, in particular, what happens when the work is in collaboration with youth\u2014this beautiful collision of innocence and idealism, or maybe it\u2019s the hope with the courage to look, really look at anything, any entity, with an innocent eye, which I actually believe could happen at any age, and should happen at any age. And then the word anarchy, which I feel is inherently within the spirit of young people, this desire to rebel, this desire to kind of shake the rafters a little bit, even for the sake of shaking them sometimes! That spirit of courageous questioning. It resonates in all my work.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

When you dig into those two words, innocence and anarchy, what immediately jumps out to me is that they both emphasize curiosity.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Absolutely. And I think, living in the time we\u2019re living in now, curiosity demands courage. When I think about youth in particular, there\u2019s a certain age when to be curious or in awe, or going: \u201cI don\u2019t know,\u201d requires a type of courage to admit you do not know . . . yet.<\/em> It\u2019s anarchic as well, because to be curious about a system can be a bit of a threat. There\u2019s also self-consciousness, the whole idea of fitting in and peer pressure. I feel at that age, they\u2019re living through that clash. And they vacillate, beautifully. So, within maybe one day at rehearsal, they become the complete child, and then, within a moment or some kind of reflex or trigger, it\u2019s suddenly: \u201cHow am I seen by the others?\u201d And what does that do to the self and the self as a creative voice? I like that collision, that friction point.<\/p>\n\n\n

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Sophie Dean, poster for GCTC production of 12<\/em>. Photo: Courtesy Kristina Watt 2022<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n<\/div>\n\n\n

So, when you\u2019re starting a new 100 Watt project, how do you first bring these values into the room?<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Number one for me is play. And with innocent anarchy, fearless<\/em> play. I play with language, or questions, always in a game-like fashion, and maybe some of the questions might just happen to be in the world of the project ahead. So: \u201cWhat\u2019s your favourite kind of garbage,\u201d right? And so, we\u2019re building, but it\u2019s also within the realm of the silly.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

In terms of making that fearless play possible, could you expand on your approach to building trust with young collaborators?<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I would say one of the fundamental things is that they have a voice in the room. And that they know I\u2019m extremely interested in their voice, genuinely so. I\u2019ve seen it, and maybe you have too, when it\u2019s not genuine. And they\u2019re used to that, they can smell that insincerity. But I\u2019m fiercely more interested in them than I am myself; I am consciously making space so they are more present. And I consciously create a space where they are absolutely fascinated by each other<\/em>.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

An example of that would be, for instance, instead of taking attendance or taking names, they have to call out what they had for breakfast, right?  A silly example, it might seem, but right away they have to come up with something, a memory, and it’s vulnerable, right? They have to say something truthful of their own life, and I don\u2019t give them time to worry about it, and people have to ask questions about it. So, if one says: \u201cI had cereal with milk,\u201d what cereal? With a lot of milk? Half-milk? So, I\u2019m also building a room in which life is insatiably fascinating and it\u2019s the details not the generalities that are the spark for what we may create.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Otherwise, I like to get them writing very early. But writing in a way where it is absolutely inoffensive in its obligations, in its standard of being right. For instance, I intentionally use scraps of paper, and I rip them, and they just grab them, so there is already a casual association with the form. And then, I use short prompts that allow for something private to come out on paper; but I never, in this initial phase, have their names on it. I\u2019m setting trust in place from the beginning within a spirit of play. I read them all out loud, and because I\u2019m reading them all out loud without any names, and because I\u2019ve set up this room where everyone\u2019s of interest, I\u2019m getting them to hear a whole<\/em>. And then, I don\u2019t ask them about individual thoughts, I ask them: \u201cWhat is the voice of the room?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n

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Brigitte Pellerin, an episode in 12<\/em>. 2019. Courtesy Kristina Watt<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n<\/div>\n\n\n

I usually work with a creative time constraint so that doubt and all those other critics don\u2019t get in the way, so that their true impulses, which are 90% of the time phenomenal, won\u2019t have time to correct themselves.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

For 12<\/em> specifically, I had a list of writing prompts, little words, so: \u201cI feel, I wonder, I know, I hear, I see,\u201d and they had to write the end of each sentence, and I read them out at the end of class. Right away we knew what the cloud in the room was, even if a beautiful cloud. One side is: \u201cThere\u2019s a lot expected of us.\u201d And \u201cWe\u2019re really worried and scared about what lies ahead.\u201d It felt like a room that very authentically, vulnerably expressed that they feel judged; that there are assumptions about their generation; that they don\u2019t know what to do about their future on the planet; and that there\u2019s anger that I could tell they didn\u2019t want to express. It was in their words: they feel they\u2019ve inherited a situation that they should fix.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Then, we just played within that world. Suddenly, we started talking more with regards to the climate, to the planet, to their love of animals, their concerns, their guilt, and we built material. And then, one of them starts to talk about how the United Nations had this big meeting where they declared we have twelve years left and that window of 1.5 degrees; and believe it or not, at that point, there were twelve actors in the room. With kids, when they\u2019re free and open, even in late high school, everything\u2019s really cool, right? So, it\u2019s like: \u201c12 years? There\u2019s 12 of us!\u201d And then we kept finding more of these numbers and everything became about numbers. That scene where they riff on 12 members in a jury, 12 days of Christmas? that was a game.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

It reminds me of that critique of political theatre, that even with the Brechtian stuff, theatre still takes place in a building that\u2019s meant for entertainment, so people can use that as a way of almost unconsciously dismissing any political intent; but what interests me is what happens when you acknowledge the entertainment factor and the game-ness of these things, and your politics leans into it, rather than trying to cover it up. How does that affect the potential political effect?<\/p>\n\n\n\n

In fact, Brecht was number one to say it: ultimately, it has to entertain. And I actually think one releases the other. The joy and the laughter is a great foil for what we find ourselves laughing at, so one of the things that we constantly had to work on was to play against the gravitas.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Anyways, from there, I want them in their bodies a lot. Never let the room get too cerebral, and if it does, we change it. I\u2019m also establishing that impulse\u2014it\u2019s a counter-scholastic view\u2014that thoughts of the body and thoughts of the head, the move of a wave or a thought from a word, have equal weight. These all establish a code of values in the room so that we can create together.<\/p>\n\n\n

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12<\/em> chatroom. 2019. 100 Watt Productions<\/a>. Photo: Courtesy Kristina Watt<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n<\/div>\n\n\n

Yeah, and to bring it back to that breakfast cereal example, I think there can be this tendency to treat curiosity as an ephemeral sort of spark, as something to wait for, but it sounds to me like you, instead, treat it as a skill. You apply it and ask these little questions and play with patterns.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

My belief is that curiosity is within us all, but that it\u2019s also a muscle that gets dulled. I noticed when they get to a certain age, to be in awe, to be in the not-know or to be in wonder, is not cool. And especially not because at any time we could log on and find the answer. So, there\u2019s a unique energy to a young person in particular who tolerates: \u201cYeah, I wonder why that is.\u201d Big thing for me.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

So, anyways, once we\u2019ve got some core material, whether it\u2019s going to be thrown out or not, I can play with it and train them with it and discover from it. For example, I often play with tempo and precision. We do a lot of explorations based on 5 tempos: 0 is stillness, 1 is as slow as you can possibly go, 2, 3, 4; and 5 is as fast as you can possibly go without running. I don\u2019t like working with actors in: \u201cSpeak louder, speak slower, speak faster,\u201d I go: \u201cLet\u2019s try that moment in tempo 2.\u201d And so, you\u2019ve got a young person who\u2019s been told their whole life that they talk very fast, but I\u2019m actually giving them a more interesting way in. It tends to be an obstacle if they\u2019ve been told their whole life: \u201cOh you talk too fast.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

And if I were to tell someone: \u201cCan you do that slower, can you do that faster,\u201d it\u2019s very much something they\u2019re doing right or wrong. Whereas if it\u2019s: \u201cCan we try this out in a different tempo,\u201d then it\u2019s much more about what we\u2019re hoping to get out of the scene collectively.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Absolutely! It fits into what always excites me: it\u2019s a game!<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Yeah, and a shared vocabulary.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

And now, the training aspect of that is: everyone\u2019s tempo 1 might be slightly different. Their ability to sense each other is everything. The whole premise in the room is: \u201cLook after each other.\u201d So, I\u2019ll go: \u201cGet in a circle,\u201d and they\u2019ll know that they need to be equidistant from each other.  After a while in this process, they\u2019ll almost feel awkward when they\u2019re not.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Do you pursue this type of synchronization in all of your work?<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I long for precision of listening in all ensemble building. I want that baseline of vocabulary to be in their muscles so that unexpected things are possible.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Was your approach to this ensemble building process affected at all by the subject matter of 12<\/font>, being youth\u2019s relationship with the planet?<\/p>\n\n\n

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12<\/em> standing. 2022. 100 Watt Productions<\/a>. Photo: Kristina Watt<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n<\/div>\n\n\n

For me, they\u2019re one and the same. When I look at the necessity for conflict and tension in the room, I draw on that necessity in nature, when, for instance, a season changes, explodes into something new because of this meeting up of resistance. And when I look at the behaviour of a human being and in my own work as an actor, I might find how they walk from the movement of a leaf. I look at the behaviour in the natural world and a lot of the principles that nature operates by, and I find that problems arise and even creative problems arise when we\u2019ve strayed farther away from that. And so, I think of the room as this ecosystem of different personalities, and the way the room navigates through knowing to not-knowing, from explosion of tempo to stillness, from curiosity rather than socially imposed judgment, I think it\u2019s the same as nature. Either in the training techniques, imagery on stage, or innocent anarchy\u2014it all comes from nature. And innocence doesn\u2019t necessarily mean an age; it\u2019s a quality, an approach, a vulnerability, a humour.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

It also interests me because, if they\u2019re capable of being so physically conscious and in-sync with one another, it elevates those moments when they aren\u2019t in sync and when tension has emerged.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Absolutely.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I mention tension because I was thinking about my research into applied theatre and Helen Nicholson, who talks about how the goal of applied theatre shouldn\u2019t just be developing a total harmony within a group, the goal should be to acknowledge any tensions or frustrations that might arise, and to actually address them.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Conflict is essential in the room. I do not shut conflict down.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

It\u2019s a difficult impulse to fight as an educator.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

You see, Matt, this is personal. The majority of my family are from Colombia. I lived part of my life in Canada, and then I went away for a long time, and I lived in New York for eight years, and I went back and forth to Colombia until it wasn\u2019t really possible anymore with my career, but for a couple of months every year. I thrive on human beings that live with a freedom of interaction, that it\u2019s ok if they disagree, if they interrupt each other. And I often felt this conflict moving back and forth to Canada. I had a very split existence, and I developed a real questioning of what I felt to be the core values of some places in Canada, which seemed to be to remove discomfort at all costs. And really finding that problematic as an artist because I would feel it in the room, and then I would feel it on the stage, as an audience member. And I couldn\u2019t understand it. It\u2019s in my blood, to resist at all costs any degree of dishonesty about what is being said or not said, can\u2019t be said and why. And I\u2019m not reckless and looking for fistfights, it\u2019s nothing to do with that!<\/p>\n\n\n

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Catherine Robson, 12<\/em> Stools. 2019. 100 Watt Productions<\/a>. Photo: Courtesy Kristina Watt<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n<\/div>\n\n\n

When I talk about fearless play, it\u2019s about developing the skills to not be in agreement with each other all the time. And what I relish with them isn\u2019t teaching them how to shut it down or avoid it but how to get through it, and sometimes the creative discoveries that come out of those problems. It\u2019s actually like a secret goal of mine [laughs<\/em>]. I\u2019m infiltrating Canadian spaces with the courage to disagree and to question constant conformity for the sake of comfort where there obviously isn\u2019t comfort. It is fascinating: the dangers of repressing true-thought are much more frightening to me than expressed-thought, or expressed-feeling. I actually think, and I\u2019m certainly not inventing the wheel here, a safe space isn\u2019t a space where everyone agrees. That\u2019s an unsafe space. A safe space is when there\u2019s permission to disagree.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Is it easy to find like-minded artists in these terms?<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I would say I\u2019d like to see more of it. Not to say that there aren\u2019t some!<\/p>\n\n\n\n

As a leader in the creation space, what is your approach when anger or frustration do emerge?<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I guess I\u2019m not scared of anger. What I\u2019m more scared of is a society that tries to make people, especially very young people, know that anger is highly unwanted. The group was feeling unjustified with their anger, and it was all over them. So, I felt like I needed to hear from them: \u201cWell, what does<\/em> piss you off?\u201d So, some of them would go: \u201cWhen my dad does this,\u201d or \u201cwhen my parents do this,\u201d and I would go: \u201cWhy would they do that?\u201d I wouldn\u2019t indulge them if they just went: \u201cWell, I don\u2019t know, they\u2019re just idiots.\u201d I don\u2019t let it go to a place of personal attack. I was constantly going: \u201cWell what does that mean?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

In my practice, I try to remember that anger doesn\u2019t come out of a vacuum. It always comes from somewhere more interesting, whether it\u2019s a place of vulnerability or fear or hurt. And when you\u2019re describing anger in this way, it makes me think of how you\u2019ve chosen to frame 12<\/font> as an invitation to dig a bit further into that anger and to explore it and contextualize it. Because 12<\/font> isn\u2019t necessarily combative or antagonistic, in the ways one might expect.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

It was very conscious. I\u2019m cognisant of stereotypes about teenagers. I mean you can see them everywhere, and so you might see in some of the show\u2019s media descriptions: \u201c12<\/em> is not a rant.\u201d I brought that in the room, and then they were so on board with it. We talked a lot about what\u2019s going to happen if the audience feels attacked. What\u2019s going to happen if it seems like you\u2019re perfect and they\u2019re the problem? It was earned: we did a lot of work where they, through games, through exercises, through writing, through researching, they talked about what frauds they feel they are, they talked about: \u201cOh my god, I believe in this, but I\u2019ll still take the ride to school!\u201d And somebody would come in with research and everything and then admit: \u201cI am<\/em> fast fashion.\u201d So, they knew that 12<\/em> needed to be like you just said: \u201cCan we just talk about this?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

It also addresses the air of shame that can surround all of this stuff and the ways in which that emotion\u2019s rarely productive.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Yes.<\/p>\n\n\n

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Catherine Robson, \u201cWe march.\u201d 2019. 100 Watt Productions<\/a>. Photo: Courtesy  Kristina Watt<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n<\/div>\n\n\n

Speaking of which, could you speak a little bit to the scene when several famous youth activists pop up? I\u2019m thinking particularly of the moment when your performers feel the need to defend their own behaviours to activists and innovators like Greta Thunberg, Marinel Ubaldo, Xiuhtezcatl Martinez, Jaden Anthony, Jamie Margolin and Boyan Slat. How would you describe your participants\u2019 relationship with those figures?<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Part of our process, unplanned, was that they all had to go out and research and find who\u2019s doing what out there. And so, they came in going, \u201cDid you hear about this guy? I want to tell you about him!\u201d So, within that, they were a little in awe of these people. That led to some conversations like: \u201cWell, these people, they gave up their whole lives\u2014I can\u2019t do that. And I don\u2019t even know if I want to.\u201d And one of the dominant questions that came out early was, if I just check a box, by putting out my blue bin or something, is that enough? So, representing the kind of human instinct to go: \u201cWell, I\u2019m doing my best because I do this,\u201d and wanting the respect of, you know, these kinds of gods! But they were gods that none of the teens actually thought they could ever be. They recognize that it takes an extraordinary cluster of circumstances, not just \u201cI\u2019m not great enough.\u201d It\u2019s a discomfort. \u201cWhat does it take to make a change?\u201d they asked. Then: \u201cDoes doing this play really make a change?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

And I think there can be this assumption from adults towards youth, that: \u201cOh, if you\u2019re a kid, then you just idolize Greta.\u201d I appreciate that 12<\/font> goes: \u201cWell no, there\u2019s actually so much more to unpack about how kids feel about the figures that have attained this status.\u201d Like, to use your words, you describe it as \u201cbeing in awe,\u201d and there\u2019s two sides to awe, there\u2019s the fear side too, there\u2019s insecurity.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

And how do you make peace with the maximum that you\u2019re willing to sacrifice? And the size of your voice as a provocation for change?<\/p>\n\n\n\n

This question of voice makes me think about how you\u2019ve often described 12<\/font> as: \u201cfor adults but, by necessity, by youth.\u201d I was wondering how influential that idea was to the show\u2019s development, and have you had that type of consideration of target audience in the past?<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I knew that I was drawn towards a type of theatre where there could be a range of ages in the audience, and what does that mean the piece needs to do\u2014or can\u2019t do? And then, at the same time, I was looking into material, pieces of theatre that were written specifically for teenagers that were speaking about their values in relation to the world. I was always drawn to that more than an isolated silo of when teenagers and youth perform mostly just for their age and younger. I just wanted to bust that open and wanted to counteract: \u201cOh it will be of less quality, less creativity, less whatever, because it\u2019s younger people.\u201d That is very conscious.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Now with 12<\/em>, as it started to define itself, we fell into a place where it needed to be an adult audience, mostly. And in fact, in November 2019, 12<\/em> was invited to open the 30th anniversary of the United Nations Year of the Child by the Ottawa International Writers Festival. This was a big deal, there were going to be members of Parliament and many inspiring leaders, but it was going to be in auditorium of about 800 people with 400 of those people being high school students and younger. These were their peers, so would 12<\/em> still work? Are we preaching to the converted?<\/p>\n\n\n

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Rhea Sawan, rehearsal collage. 2022. Photo: Kristina Watt<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n<\/div>\n\n\n

Yeah, it would definitely have value, but of a totally different kind.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

So, as the piece started to define itself, what was always on my mind was: \u201cWho is the audience now?\u201d An example would be what I call the Intervention scene, where they suddenly all come and sit downstage, and they imagine a gigantic living room where the audience is their parents and adults. That scene is one of my favourites because it\u2019s the most frightening to adults. You can feel the room change. But first, a performer stands up and breaks away from what the group wanted. He kind of loses his courage to be on attack, and he starts with: \u201cFirst I want to thank you, for everything you\u2019ve done for us.\u201d I had them looking at each other, almost as if he broke from the pact, like we\u2019re trying to keep a strong front. The scene is about revealing.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

It\u2019s a good example of this tendency to view the different generations in a combative way, where they\u2019re almost at war with one another. But it\u2019s exploring that idea without necessarily giving into it and just becoming an example of it. It instead remains an invitation.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Thank you. I remember having an interview with Eric Coates at the GCTC and saying: \u201cI think it\u2019s a love story.\u201d Whether it\u2019s between us and the planet and between generations. And within love, there\u2019s that conflict, there\u2019s resentment, there\u2019s hope, there\u2019s disappointment, all those things that you said could be the seed of anger, if not rage, if not violence, right? Cicely Berry of the RSC says [paraphrasing<\/em>] \u201cWhen words fail, violence prevails.\u201d So, maybe in a sense, 12<\/em> is kind of like this group\u2019s last ditch hope to talk.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Everything on the table.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

And if it doesn\u2019t work, then we tried.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Thinking of this invitation, are there any audiences who have ever tried to participate or engage with the performance? I\u2019m thinking particularly of that moment very early on, when all of the performers take out their cell phones and put them in a pile near the front edge of the stage, and they then pause, silently staring out at the audience. I remember in that pause, I personally felt that slight impulse of: \u201cShould I stand? Should I add my phone to the pile?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Oh!<\/p>\n\n\n

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Kristina Watt Villegas, 12<\/em> at PSAC. 2019. Photo: Courtesy Kristina Watt<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n<\/div>\n\n\n

And I don\u2019t know why I didn\u2019t stand in that moment, but there was that slight electricity in the air of: \u201cIs anybody in the audience going to stand up and add their phone to the pile?\u201d In my case, nobody did, which, in hindsight, is also powerful. Has anything like that ever happened in a performance?<\/p>\n\n\n\n

To answer your question, no; but a similar example is when they put a stool down at the end of the performance, as an invitation for the audience to join them on stage. That stool was never in the initial performances, but there was, by coincidence, a little girl from France who was here in Canada on exchange and living at one of the actor\u2019s houses, and her mother had heard about this project and asked me: \u201cCould she observe the rehearsals? Can she play and assist you?\u201d And she spoke some English but mostly French, and she was due to leave back to France a couple of months later. And it was totally by chance that in the script, it used to end with, they call out \u201c11?\u201d waiting for an audience member to respond, and nobody responds, and they move forward, and the performance ends.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

What we did at the UN show is I planted this little girl in the audience amongst 400 raucous high school students. They call out \u201c11?\u201d and she stands up and she goes \u201c11!\u201d and she walks all the way down the audience and joins onstage and the cast all stand, and they go \u201c12?\u201d and then it ended.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

A big part of this was so that I could say to her and her mom: \u201cDo you want to be in it?\u201d And she did it perfectly; she had her little coat on and her boots as if she was totally from the outside. It worked. And when she left, we knew we wanted something more at the end because of adding her. We couldn\u2019t go back to the other version. So, if we get to keep playing it, I don\u2019t know where it\u2019s going to go, it\u2019s going to keep changing.<\/p>\n\n\n

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Kristina Watt Villegas, poster for Conflux Canada production. Photo: Curtesy Kristina Watt, 2019<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n<\/div>\n\n\n

Yeah, and I think that, whether you change 12<\/font> or not, it all comes back to this invitation. If these moments are invitations to join, like inviting this little French girl to join, then it almost says just as much when nobody chooses to join. It raises that as a question. I\u2019m the perfect example, where I was like: \u201cWait, why didn\u2019t I stand up? Why didn\u2019t I add my phone to the pile?\u201d And, in terms of reflecting on my own politics, that was almost more effective than if I had stood up. It was that lingering feeling after I left the theatre of: \u201cOh yeah, I didn\u2019t engage, what does that say about me?\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

That\u2019s the real conversation, isn\u2019t it?<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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Bibliography<\/strong><\/h5>\n\n\n\n

Watt Villegas, Kristina. \u201cAbout Kristina Watt<\/a>.\u201d 100 Watt Productions<\/em>. Accessed 27 Apr. 2022.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

—. \u201cAbout 100 Watt Productions<\/a>.\u201d 100 Watt Productions<\/em>. Accessed 27 Apr. 2022.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

—. \u201cCreations: 12<\/em><\/a>.\u201d 100 Watt Productions<\/em>. Accessed 27 Apr. 2022.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

—. \u201cFor Youth, Theatre is Action<\/a>.\u201d Artists & Climate Change<\/em>, October 2020. Accessed 27 Apr. 2022.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

—. Personal interview. 8 Jan. 2021.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

—. Personal interview. 8 Feb. 2021.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

—. Personal interview. 7 Mar. 2021.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

—. Personal interview. 7 May 2021.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

100 Watt Productions. 12<\/em>. Directed by Kristina Watt Villegas, 25 Jan. 2020, Great Canadian Theatre Company, Ottawa.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

—. 12<\/em>. Directed by Kristina Watt Villegas, 21 Nov. 2021, Ottawa Children\u2019s Festival.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

—. \u201812.\u201d 2020. Theatrical script draft. <\/a><\/p>\n\n\n\n

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Photo: Kaitlin Adeline<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n\n\n\n

*<\/a>Matthew Venner<\/strong> (BA, MA, PGDE) is a theatre creator and educator based out of Ottawa, Canada. His research focuses on applied theatre, climate crisis theatre, and experimental theatre pedagogy. He is a recipient of the Charles Haines Memorial Prize for drama or theatre criticism. Matthew is passionate about providing new platforms for young, emerging artists, having served as Senior Producer of Ottawa\u2019s Youth Infringement Festival and Artistic Director of Sock \u2018n\u2019 Buskin Theatre Company; he is also the co-founder of Two Kind Boys Theatre, which won Outstanding New Creation at the Prix Rideau Awards in 2016 and Best Director at the Halifax Fringe Festival in 2017.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Copyright \u00a9<\/strong> 2022 Matthew Venner
Critical Stages\/Sc\u00e8nes critiques<\/em> e-ISSN:2409-7411<\/p>\n\n\n

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