Out There, Way Out There

What does it really mean to be ‘out there’? If we were discussing someone’s tastes or proclivities we might describe their niche penchant for St Helenan philately’s ‘Extinct Seabirds Collection’ as somewhat ‘out there’. Or being ‘out there’ is a gesture to a broader, further horizon, a location perhaps unspecified, that carries the sense of possibilities in a world beyond the present time, space and constraints.

As opposed to the version of Ursula K Le Guin’s ‘Omelas’, a city whose prosperity depends on suffering, where we all seem to currently find ourselves. Or putting yourself ‘out there’ is the bravery and courage to take a risk, exposing yourself, your beliefs or ideas to scrutiny, vulnerability and, implicitly, criticism.

These thoughts have been on my mind because I’ve just come back from the annual Out There International Festival of Outdoor Arts and Circus in Great Yarmouth. And that experience has convinced me that ‘Out There’ is a very good place to be. Keenly observant Absurd Intelligence readers may recall the excellent piece penned by Mr Charlie Waterhouse last year that referenced this marvellous event. Charlie eloquently explored the notion of ‘Cognitive Whiplash’ by comparing this festival of ‘hearts and hands’ with the ‘heady’ (headfuck?) cognitive overload of SXSW in Shoreditch, London.

A year on and SXSW is in the news again, this time for the cognitive whiplash of having the electronic travel authorisations (ETA) of two key guest speakers from the US, Hasan Piker and Cenk Uygur, revoked at the last minute because their presence in the UK ‘may not be conducive to the public good’. A wording so vague it can only be described as ‘out there’ in the ‘invitation-to-criticism’ sense (although others such as free speech advocates Index on Censorship have called it a ‘worrying escalation’).  The intention to silence these Israeli-critical voices is clear. Or as journalist Arwa Mahdawi points out its because on Gaza we ‘punish the witness not the crime’.

The Proverbial Limb

As far as I’m aware no performers at the Out There Festival had their ETAs rejected but Great Yarmouth is also fairly ‘out there’, out on the proverbial limb. One of the most easterly points of Britain it’s a place literally on the edge of the country. My old friend Mark Everson, superstar editor of films like Paddington and Wonka, grew up in Yarmouth and set his first (unfinished) feature film there, a Norfolk gangster story called ‘The Far East’. It is the trembling edge of Britain.

Yarmouth is a town of wildly cycling fortunes. During the nineteenth century herring fishing boom it was one of the richest ports in the UK, a prosperity built on the oily smoked shoals of farting fish. It’s historically thrived as a popular seaside holiday resort as the seafront of ferris wheels, rollercoasters, arcades, chip shops and crazy golf attests. It was also a key service hub for the North Sea oil and gas industry and now in the hazy mist beyond the beachfront, dozens of offshore wind turbines twirl ‘out there’ along the horizon, representative of East Anglia’s huge role in the nation’s renewable energy transition. What should be a source of local pride, their visibility is a painful reminder that many of the benefits those turbines bring remain out of reach to, or disconnected from local residents.

On the edge

It’s fair to say Yarmouth is going through a tough period in its civic life right now. Politically it’s the home of Restore, Rupert Lowe’s far right party for those for whom Reform is a bit too ‘woke’. It’s also one of the most deprived boroughs in the country, where barely forty percent of households are working, and half of all children live in poverty. It is likely these bleak statistics and political extremism are linked, the manipulated and misdirected anger of the forgotten. A situation brought to vivid and visceral life in Lotte L.S.’s beautiful book about Yarmouth ‘An Economy of Starlings’. It’s a town geographically, socio-economically and politically out there, on the edge.

Which is what makes the Out There Festival such a precious thing for the precariat. Almost entirely free so therefore accessible to all, in this its eighteenth year it boasted three days of two hundred shows by hundreds of performers from nine different countries – the biggest annual gathering of outdoor circus brilliance in the country.

And it literally happens ‘out there’, largely in the streets, in the parks, in the open spaces, amidst the messy mix of humanity, real people in real places, meeting others on the shared common ground, where the folks already are. And it truly inspires and involves local people.

All the opportunities

There are myriad opportunities for participation and volunteering. Out There Arts actually took over and refurbished their Drill Hall venue when the Council declared it redundant as a youth club, and it now hosts a circus school and other activities for young people.  They have a youth board, a diverse communities group, plus they launched ‘Freshly Greated’ a community led project actively focusing on increased engagement which has already supported over a hundred and sixty local community producers. It could not be more artfully, creatively and respectfully embedded in the community if it tried. (It’s also where we hosted Good Neighbours, go watch it now – and don’t miss Brian Eno in Mittens....)

I could try and describe the incredible performances I saw, the unhinged acrodance freakery of Obsolete Elegance, the slapstick brutality of Three Sad Trolls, or the dark surreality of Alice and Alice, but I would almost certainly fail to do their extraordinary efforts justice. Part of the authentic magic of Out There is that you really do have to Be There, so much of what you see leaves you lost for words, is indescribable. Mere words are too simplistic, too reductive, they would inevitably ineptly capture the ingenuity inadequately.

I suspect that which defies description also has its energy drained by attempts to do so, sucking it dry like a magic vampire. Ham-fisted efforts lead to ‘Shroedinger’s explanation’ – describing the show risks killing it.  

The absolute genius and foolishness of it

Much of this indescribability comes from the recurrent sensation that you can’t actually quite believe what you are seeing, can’t fathom the febrile and furtive creative imaginations that have birthed these spectacles, the absolute genius, foolishness, idiocy and brilliance that suffuses them. The outrageous, unsayable, inexplicable and unfathomable weird wonder of it all.

I was also deeply struck by the power of so many of the performances beyond words. Our language often ties us into divisive political knots. So there is something wonderfully unifying about the simple physicality of circus, which also makes it so universal and international. I loved the mime, the mockery, the physical comedy, the repeated transgression of the fourth wall of theatre that entices the audience into intimate relationship with the performers, the honesty, candour, directness and sense of relief this cultivates. This manifests in the patience and support of the crowd, the love for the performers and the collective willing for success, with audiences rapidly rallying behind artists when occasionally things don’t always go entirely according to plan.

Several acts transcended formal language altogether, English or otherwise, instead communicating through grunts or primal vocalisation noises. There were entirely understood by the crowds who were attuned to the nuances and subtleties of bodily movements, the tone of the articulations and the playful context in which everything is occurring.

Circus as the origin?

My sense was that circus like this is the direct descendant of the deepest roots of our human endeavours and entertainments. Pratfalls, physical feats of strength and skilled performance around the pre-verbal campfire – is this perhaps how we first ever creatively began to enjoy ourselves together in good company?

The astonishing ability of circus performers to bring the feral beauty of their own bodies, often wordlessly, and to combine their own flesh and bone with equipment or props that are really quite basic (ropes, planks) or could have been found in a skip, to turn these simple ingredients into such extraordinary extravaganzas is resourceful alchemy of the highest order from the humblest origins.

If change comes from the edge, from the flickering flame caught from the corner of one’s eye, then Out There Festival is the candle on the periphery. The promise of ‘bread and circuses’ was made to pacify the masses in ancient Rome. But the word circus originates from the proto-Indo-European root of (s)ker, meaning to turn or to bend. And there is something in the bending of reality, the turning of our perceptions, that is happening on the edge at Out There that holds possible keys to transformation.

Be a bit more out there

More than ever our challenges require us to expand and unleash our collective imaginations. To think things we have not thought before, to perceive and believe in the impossible and to be inspired and motivated to make them happen. Which is the very essence of circus.

The slow nurturing of this most marvellously unlikely international festival in such an equally unlikely location, speaks volumes to the potential of what it really means to live ‘out there’ – starting in the niche margins, living on the edge and being prepared to take courageous creative risks.

It made me think that even if we had nothing, we would still have each other. And life could still be a circus in the best way possible. It’s time for us all to be a bit more ‘out there’. 

Elsewhere in Absurdity...

We welcomed our graphic design intern Sophia to Absurd Towers this week, and to do so in style, this Thursday the crew are off to the legendary Theo’s Type Studio and 56a InfoShop, the long-term volunteer-run, 100% unfunded, DIY social centre in Walworth, South London since 1991. Meanwhile...

Alex and Charlie were at Carne Ross’s launch of his new book There We Are Human Again: A Diplomat’s Journey to Anarchism, published with Perspectiva, where talk of the metacrisis, polycrisis, and shitshow, was in anarchic abundance.

Charlie was rather tired though, after his two day outing to Hull to recce for The Fête and all of the amazing, and slightly anarchic, projects and people in the town of his university days, not least to mention Cooperation Hull, The 3 Stages of Succession, and Giroscope, to name only but a few.

Perhaps not as tired as our tireless Tracey, who took a turn to Budapest to see what’s happening with cultural initiatives there. Both she and Charlie are also at the Wellcome Trust this Thursday for a reception for the Creative & Cultural Advocacy community.

On Thursday Clare is attending the Sheila McKechnie Foundation’s National Campaigner Awards.

On Friday, Tracey is at the Barbican to see the Project a Black Planet exhibition and to attend Panafrica in Rhythm concert.

While Charlie (again!) glimpsed a rare moment of acceptable British patriotism at the David Bowie Centre at V&A East.