Who is Matt Power?

I read my notes that I carefully made.
I flip through the pages back and forth.
A sinking feeling becomes evermore present in my gut.
I look at the screen I type in some commands, I open yet more windows and as I suspected, not much happens.
Is it in gigs or css?
Again with the notes.
I'm actually sweating.
It's OK just go to the template and alter the scanned images in Photoshop. Yeah kewl that I can do.
Where's the template? It was just here on the desktop! It's not in the Tawds file anyomre and it's not on the desktop.
Oh Oh I have to get this done for the site, the new secrets should be up now.
Can't call Trev until after Stargate...
Oh Oh Oh Why did I wanna do a work with a web component?

You get the idea?

I call Trev again and again and again.

Never wanted to know this stuff, really, until now.

His wise words of advice, "You will do it, you just have more pain to go through first."

After sleep I pack up my mac and head to Trev's for another lesson in html pain management...

Oh yeah, who is Matt Power?

Short answer; dunno.

I do know he she or it tagged all the pages on my appointment book last weekend during the show and also scratched into the aluminum clip board of the booking sheet in large capitals MATT POWER

Nice to know that this art project also works as a street lamp for those dogs who feel compelled to cock their leg and leave their calling card!

Nice to know that I will take Matt Power now to wherever THMC goes next, but fortunately, it's a secret as to who Matt Power actually is.

At first I was angry but after thinking about it, I realized that I or rather the project THMC was given a secret in a different way and that is kinda kewl. I hope I never know who Matt Power is. The question in this case, is so so much better and more intriguing, more elusive, than the answer.
Don't get me wrong if he/she defaced other things in the project I would simply replace them. But I choose to see this graffiti as a lesson: Don't ever pigeonhole how people will interact with an arts project that has an element of invited participation. People are constantly surprising, and I think that (most of the time) is a good thing. :-) TH

Drunk Secrets *Contents Warning*

I'm doing my show THMC in an outdoor concert venue that after the concert is over becomes a club/pub.

I let drunk people loose on typewriters and ask them to reveal something poignant and personal.

What was I thinking?

"Mate! Hey mate! Mate Mate Mate Mate Mate!!! (Think the seagulls in Finding Nemo) Mate! This typewriter is fucked! Someone before me fucked it up. "

Have you tried returning the carriage? Just move it along like this.

"Oh, thanks buddy. Geez you're awesome. Hey Macca! Macca!!!!!!( or in fact Bazza , Dazza or Shazza) C'mere you gotta type out a seekrit doooood!" Macca doesn't give a fat rats about secrets until, (as actually happened last Saturday night) he sees the hot chicks trying to type up theirs. I know for a fact that one such dude successfully pulled by asking the babe next to him to read his secret. She declined, he slurred his insistence. Miraculously, it worked and the babe in question read his 'secret', his 10 digit mobile number.

Later that night.

"Hay, you in the hat. How do you delete stuff? I spelled whore wrong.

And later still.

"Oh c'mon! Those secrets aren't real dude. It's all bullshit."

Really? Thinking to myself, do you know all the three hundred people who typed those secrets up?

"Then they're just losers."

Smile Tawdry, remember to smile. Drunk people have rights. Drunk people are patrons of the arts too. Concentrate on the fact that the piece is so not about the voice of the alcoholically emboldened. It just so happens that in the last hour of the performances the audiences change dramatically. And actually, getting off my artwanker high horse for a moment, that's a good thing and the process of adapting to audiences of diverse sobriety has been a very useful challenge for me as a performer. But for the sake of documentation here is a very small sample of the secrets of the drunk.

BE ADVISED I DO NOT ENDORSE THESE VIEW POINTS OR DISPLAY THEM ON THE WEBSITE OR INSTALLATION OF THE WORK. CONTENT WARNING. SOME OR ALL OF WHAT FOLLOWS MAY OFFEND OR, IN MY CASE, JUST MOMENTARILY SADDEN.


If you are going to fspew (sic) in front of a prostitute don't fart'

She's a bit fat but she has nice teeth

I am the walrus

I stole a kidney from a drunk in the street

I've always wonderd what colour smurfs turn when you go and choke their ass....

My mother secretly wishes to drown children, morso (sic) if they are asian

I like to kick em to the kerb unless the fuck like Mick Jagger

I saw yer mom on the corner with a mattres on her back offering curb service

As I said, i want to fuck a goat

Once, when i was asleep I began to dry umphump (sic) the dog who sleeping in next bed bause (sic) my wife was having her period wen I woke up I could;nt stop


And these are the contributions of some people who tell me that the more heartfelt secrets currently on display on the website and at Becks Music Box are by sad losers??

Oh yeah, and after packing the show up the other night I came back to the display boards to find still more fun, pissed, party people whooping it up whilst over-writing their own witty commentaries on top of other people's displayed secrets. For example over one secret about a childhood trauma was written,
"Die you sad Emo losers die!". Hilarious...


However, enough said, there is so so much more that is completely fab about THMC at Becks and I am really digging the experience. Just needed to get that off my chest!

Thanx peeps TH ;-)

THMC Opening Weekend, Tick

THMC opened last weekend at the Perth International Arts Festival's outdoor music venue, Becks Music Box.

It's Wednesday and I'm still knackered. How was I feeling beforehand? Tense, queasy, nauseous, and like I'd rather be anywhere else before the show goes up. Easier just to pack up and run, of course. Is it a viable option to pull the plug on all the hard work invested enthusiastically by a heap of people for this project? I think not, not unless I want to be run out of town.

Weeks of stuff, getting, making, fixing, arranging, learning, writing, driving, meeting, building, thinking,and then doing it all again, tweaking tweaking tweaking. At the end of all of that, I'm stuffed, completely. Nothing much left but excitement, fear and massive reservation. Then you have to do is the damn show!

Friday last, bumped into the outdoor venue. My reserve of performance energy evaporates, as the wind blows forcefully about the venue, threatening to tear the secrets from the board and reaping havoc with my carefully designed How-To cards and hand dyed paper for the typewriters. It's easy to have a bad feeling about all this, 'so not how it was in my head'. Others around me, Malcolm and Fiona, communicate their faith. Eventually, nothing left to do but the show.

On the first night, after a slow kinda shaky start, we ended up getting more secrets than the display board (meant for the whole season) could handle. It got very busy.
I didn't feel like a freak with nothing to offer. I didn't feel like that kid still looking at his bemused parents for approval. (thought about him a fair bit during the building of this show, actually.) It felt like the show did have something to offer for those people who were up for interacting with it. And yes, the more peeps drank the more they seemed up for it. So, lots of take-the-piss drunken secrets.

One damp one that I could tell was soaked in beer, claimed to have been soaked in piss, nice, not. One, and I quote, "I'm gonna rape you like a shoe". The mind boggles.
And then The Gift happened. Well that is to say the gift I received from the show.
OK, the show, Tawdry Heartburn's Manic Cures, is about an exchange of gifts, a manicure or palm reading in exchange for a secret donated anonymously etc etc.

Lots of interesting conversations and anecdotes with and from people, shared opinions and insights maybe, but I didn't realize there would be more than that coming my way.
These days it seems that palm reading is the thing that will get men to interact with THMC, and interact they did, both Saturday and Sunday nights. The first night a guy and his girlfriend were hanging around a little tongue tired and shy till Fiona and I had practically finished packing up. "Like I'm not trying to hassle you or anything but could you take a look?" They had had all night to ask and had even turned down the invitation to make an appointment earlier. Maybe they were just more comfortable at the end of the night. No wux fella. So, I do the reading as he and his girlfriend listening on, completely oblivious to the state of their faces. They were giving me that look. I found it shocking. OMFG how come I hadn't been prepared for that?

So on the second night the same thing again. even from this one fella and his mate, late twenties maybe. I give him his reading based on the study I've done and speak as plainly as I can. After, he says, 'Look, I'm scientist and I don't believe this stuff ever. But you were 95% accurate with everything you said'. And he gave me that look too.

So, what is this unexpected gift, this look I'm talking about? People who think that you are a unique and vital source of information, people who think that you know stuff about themselves that will change their lives irrevocably, and for the better, and people who have maybe had a few... these are the people that give you a look of unfailing openness and attention.It's like you get access to some inner part of people through that look because they are so focused, so intent on making sense of and remembering everything you say. I understand what they mean by a person hanging off every word you say. Powerful and needing a lot of respect, it's a big responsibility that look... It is a gift that look. It's a gift equally commensurate with all the secrets people have given THMC. Those secrets, now all piled up on the display board at Music Box, as I have said before, make me feel connected or rather not alone. They remind me of the stuff, not always clever, or poetic, and sometimes base and banal, but stuff nonetheless that I have burdened myself with over the years. The secrets remind me of all the stuff that I have often thought was nobody's but my own and how so much of it is seemingly so common to many of us.

Rationale

We all have that dream yeah? Be an artist make a show that rocks and have it take you places... OK well maybe that's my particular nocturnal obsession and not as many folks as I think are into it. No matter, in the course of trying to make this fanciful notion become some kind of reality you often are required along the way to put down a few thoughts for the peeps who might assist you to get that dream happening. You know, funding bodies, producers, media outlets etc etc..

What follows then is a kind of rationale for THMC... feedback welcome. Cheers TH


“Confession is always weakness.” Dorothy Dix

Nothing weighs so heavily upon us as a secret. Chinese proverb

I am a performance artist or more than twenty years experience. I am interested in intimate, small-scale self-devised and group devised work that embraces the new but not at the expense of flexibility, portability, and quality. Of particular interest to me, and possibly the one area that has remained a constant throughout my work, has been an ongoing investigation into the dynamics of the performer-audience relationship. Specifically, what exchange occurs between these to ‘entities’ when notions of invited participation are introduced into the performance environment. I abhor enforced participation of all kinds in performance both as audience member and performer/maker. However invited participation I believe opens up a much broader range of possible relationships between audience and performer. Not new conceptually, perhaps, but I would contend still very relevant in the Australian context, particularly given the new media technologies and levels of interconnectivity possible between us all today.


The idea for Tawdry Heartburn's Manic Cures (THMC) stemmed cumulatively - if that’s possible - from three specific experiences. The first of which happened 15 years ago as a freelance artist newly arrived in big expensive Sydney and having done a CertII in Nail Technology of all things as a way of paying bills. I quickly discovered that I hated working in a salon but found it fascinating to talk to clients and extended that into doing nails in big warehouse parties at the time and having hilarious exchanges with peeps at four o’clock in the morning. Secondly, a Symposium run two years ago by Perth's own PVI Collective (This Is the Time, This is a Record of the Time) about hybridism in performing arts. It inspired me to think about new technologies around and how I might incorporate these burgeoning digital elements into my own making. Finally, a flat mate showed me the work of American community artist Frank Warren whose books about his project, Post Secret were an incredible document of a marvelous project. However, I wanted to find a way to explore with an audience the moment leading up to personal disclosure, what happens just before revealing a secret or a decision to confess.

The work has three distinct components. The performance one-on-one of a 'Manic Cure' with a 'client', a single audience member which, as well as being a genuine manicure by a trained nail technician, is a guided conversation/exploration of the possibility that the client may (or may not) have secrets to divulge.
The second section of the work is the installation of the typewriters and Wall of Secrets, here, the client after his or her nails have dried can type up a secret/confession (anonymously) and place it in the Secrets Box. After the session of performances for that day has concluded the secrets donated are removed, logged and or scanned and then installed on the wall of secrets for the following days performances. Passers by who wish to can used the typewriters without an appointment for a Manic Cure.
Finally, the work has a dedicated website, blog, Facebook page and Twitter page. The site details the show and archives the secrets, the blog details the process of making and running the show. Facebook is for networking the show and Twitter is for followers of the show to receive secret tweets from the past secrets archive PSA.

In making the work, I didn’t want to demand of an audience that they consider the possibility of disclosure of and by itself. Two things emerged for me in thinking about an approach to the work that were subsequently designed into the work and have existed from the first performances in 2008, and have remained there up to and including the current version of the work today. As a performer, if I wanted an audience to give or donate to me a secret, then I felt I had to on an ethical level give the audience something in return beyond a performance situation that allowed them to donate. I had to actually give something to anyone who chose to actively participate in the performance. I reasoned that beyond performing, I could do nails, and salons lend themselves to a kind of contemporary confessorial atmosphere… So it seemed like as good a gift as any to offer. The other stipulation or parameter that remains today is that the donation of secrets happens anonymously. I felt and still feel that it is imperative that the audience’s privacy is honoured.

It’s important to note that a passer by can see the work in situ an d without getting a one-on-one performance from Tawds they can still participate if they want to by typing up a secret and putting it in to the Secrets Box. They have the opportunity to book a performance and receive the nails ‘gift’ from Tawdry but if they elect not to, that shouldn't preclude them from interacting with the piece in other ways.

So, the credo of THMC basically boils down to this: do something for someone else in exchange for a secret. Make certain that their privacy and anonymity is protected before any of the secrets are disseminated in any way. Once that was in place then all the other features of the work, the web page, the blog , Facebook and Twitter fell painstakingly into place. Piece of cake!