Yesterday I headed down to Brighton for the Artists Open Houses event. My friend wanted to see some of the photography exhibitions and I wanted to go and see the Blast Theory studios as they had sent me an email saying that it was also possible to take part in Rider Spoke. As they state on their website, Rider Spoke:
…continues Blast Theory’s fascination with how games and new communication technologies are creating new hybrid social spaces in which the private and the public are intertwined. It poses further questions about where theatre may be sited and what form it may take. It invites the public to be co-authors of the piece and a visible manifestation of it as they cycle through the city. It is precisely dependent on its local context and invites the audience to explore that context for its emotional and intellectual resonances.
We visited the studio earlier in the day and viewed Riders have Spoken, Soft Message and Single Story Building as well a general showreel of snippets of their work, and then we came back at 6pm to collect our bike and Nokia touchscreen devices. We were given a brief introduction to the piece but really it was a case of heading out and seeing what happened. So after adjusting my cycle helmet, and hopping onto the supplied bike, I pressed ‘continue’ on the touchscreen and the story began…
At first you are told to begin cycling, and as you continue along the route you decide to take the earpiece you have in one ear starts to play an audio track as a narrative begins. A soothing, non-threatening voice reassures you as you start to cycle out into the unknown. You are alone on your journey, you are told it will be ok. You are instructed to find a place to hide, to give yourself a name and to describe yourself. Not knowing Portslade/Hove/Brighton very well I started cycling away from the studios and followed a path down to an industrial estate. Eventually I came across a path leading up to the sea. I stopped to record my message. The sea holds a certain resonance for me. My grandparents lived on the coast in Devon and helped to bring me up both there and where I was born (away from the sea). We frequently walked along the beach front. We scattered their ashes there when they died. I described myself looking out onto the waves and pressed continue.
The screen flashed up the next message. Did I want to hide again or find people? I decided to find people before moving on. I found Bill and listened to his message. It was interesting to jump forward in a narrative. I didn’t know this person so I had no knowledge of who he was apart from a name that was left on the screen and how I imagined him to be from his voice left in that place. I was able to get a snapshot of his experience and the short clip he had left behind until the voice faded out and I continued once again.
I decided to keep hiding and I cycled along the coast road, following passersby walking along the sea front, imaging the argument they had just had as they went out for an evening walk to cool down with the sea breeze. I stopped and described them, leaving a memento of who I imagined them to be at a place near by. I pressed continue and let the questioning play on. I wanted to hide again, to continue cycling and imagine my answer as the next question played out through the earpiece. I continued along the busy main road, then stopped and described holding someones hand through the hustle and bustle of the streets of Beijing as the road and the question bought me back to that once (temporarily) familiar place.
I continued again, I listened some more. I became used to my position on the street as a cyclist, an altered view from my usual pedestrian experience. I am often a walker and although I have a bike, I barely ride it as I prefer the act and pace of walking (and it’s too far to do the round trip to work via anything other than car or train). I subjected myself to the rules of the road, keeping to cycle paths when possible and using that as part of the experience. I generally moved in straight lines for fear of getting lost. The surrounding area is one I didn’t know very well and I didn’t want to break the experience by having to stop and look at a map (and for those that know me, you will remember how easily I get lost which is perhaps one of the many reasons I love maps!) On reflection, I would like to do the ride again in a place known to me to see if it changes how I act, where I decide to hide and if my connection to places would factor more/differently in where I decided to stop and record. When recording you are limited by others before you as you can only leave your mark where others haven’t, and have to continue cycling until that opportunity arises. This only happened twice (out of about 5 questions) for me and in many ways it added to the experience. It made me determined to try and find a better spot and in some ways it changed the narratives I left there. A gothic looking building took on a new identity and a new story emerged as to what may have once happened there. It didn’t matter that I didn’t know the streets and the buildings I was cycling amongst, they still became part of my experience and part of my own exploration. Now in my ‘new’ role I also became more interested in other people traveling around on bikes as I continued with my journey. Were they part of the experience too? What questions were they being asked and what answers would they leave behind?
After just over an hour, the questions stopped, and I was no longer able to find people, to listen to their answers. I was guided to the end of the journey, I was reassured once again and told to do once last thing. I continued cycling around a patch of green with tall trees in amongst a residential area. I stopped and made a final promise into the microphone and into the air around me as the sun was starting to set along the horizon. The narrative felt complete as I listened to the audio motif once again cycling back to the studio still within the moment of the performance, contemplating where I had been, the voices I had created, the answers I had heard, until I reached the studio door, pressed the buzzer and came back to reality, leaving the memories behind captured in my own mind, in the machine, and in amongst the landscape.
