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Theatre play review
Ariel descending from above © LW theatre
Ariel descending from above © LW theatre

'The Tempest' at Theatre Royal Drury Lane


On Saturday (11th Jan 2025), I saw a Shakespeare play, 'The Tempest', at the Theatre Royal Drury Lane (1,2) with some friends. The story follows the former Duke of Milan, Prospero and his path to revenge. Prospero's brother, Antonio, betrayed him to steal his Duke position. But Prospero, with the help of the courtier, escaped to an island with his daughter Miranda and a book of magic. The island is inhabited by spirits and only one human, Caliban, who Prospero enslaves. Prospero also holds Ariel, a spirit he saved from a tree, under his power by promising freedom in exchange for favours. The play starts when Prospero and his now 15-year-old daughter watch as a ship, with Antonio and the King aboard, is wrecked ashore on this island. Ensues several plots of coup attempts and a love story between Miranda and the King's son until Prospero's opportunity for revenge becomes a choice for forgiveness and good virtue (3)



  • View of the Theatre Royal inside dome © LinkaLipski
  • View of the set design at the end of the show © LinkaLipski



Highlights


All the lights go off, and the room becomes pitch black (except for a few phones glaring as they were swiftly turned off). Immediately, the darkness swallows you, and as the stage is revealed, you are immersed in the world of a lost island and a powerful storm. The stage has polished grey stony hills, and the floor space in between is sandy, grey and dusted with dark black soil and stones. Soon after, a drape of three sewn-together airy fabrics dances to the wind and floats past the stage, turning the storm into a being of its own. 


The lighting was cleverly chosen to illuminate Prospero in white and blue tones while Ariel sprung from above in a warm orange glow. Each actor was lit in such a way as to create a unique visual piece each time, with symmetry and focus. One incredible scene saw a liquid fabric floating delicately across the horizon. Our eyes are caught by Ariel wearing a similar fabric over its body, walking past the magical waves. Meanwhile, the dim light and dark areas contrast the two complementary orange and blue colours gleaming around the characters.  And the singing of Ariel among all of this was enough to transport you into another world. 


The actor playing Ferdinand, the King's son, was impeccable in his interpretation of this young character who is at first lost and then falls in love with Miranda. Furthermore, Caliban's rendition was so disinhibited: the movements were dramatic and fully embodied, creating a monstrous caricature of what once was a former free man. When Caliban is joined on stage by Stephano the butler and Trinculo the fool (both survivors of the shipwreck), it is a fantastic back-and-forth playful dialogue. The three of them had an astonishing chemistry that fascinated and grounded you in the present moment. The actors gave their all to the characters. They did not fear being judged for acting ridiculous or ugly and thus helped the characters come alive as grotesque drunkards. Brilliant!


The costumes were strange and a creative choice we could quickly get behind. With elements borrowed from fantasy and science fiction, the design made the clothes feel old yet modern. There was unity among them, while some characters had costumes that set them apart from others, particularly those of Ariel and Caliban. The former was adorned with black feathers at the collar and shoulders, with gold draping down to a black sheer and boned waist corset and dark grey barrel trousers. The latter had a look reminiscent of the BDSM fashion, wearing a grotesque pair of leather knickers, which was particularly fitting with Caligan's kissing of the feet and submissive nature.


All in all, the ambience is eerie and ethereal. The set is beautiful, and the use of fabric and lighting is ingenious. The costumes were well thought of, and the singing was sublime. We can't deny that the visuals were inspiring and showed a unique creative flair.



  • Ariel walking down a hill © LW theatre
  • Ferdinand with the wind as fabric © LW theatre
  • Miranda and Ferdinand in love with Prospero in the back © LW theatre
  • Stephano, Trinculo and Caliban with Prospero and Ariel in the back © LW theatre



What Didn’t Work


While the set was incredibly beautiful, it created a mismatch between the original ambience and the comedic scenes. What was missing from those scenes was a visual cue to more pleasant emotions to facilitate laughter. The set dictates what the viewer will experience instinctually. Here, the mood is set for a world that feels oppressive, desolate, and full of anguish and despair but with notes of celestial and dainty touches to the air, evoking hope. Nothing in that space created room for humour and ridicule. Therefore, the scene where Caliban, Stephano and Trinculo are together does not work in this decor. That scene is meant as comedic relief and to contrast the rest of the characters but was not meant to contrast a modern, eerie, industrial look. I could visualise how well the comedy would land in a more colourful decor or Shakespearean look. Perhaps warmer-toned clothes for Stephano and Trinculo could have been the trick: it would also have helped distinguish them as servants from the aristocrats. Or the set could have been lit with a generalised orange glow (or more natural yellow tones) to create a different mood and guide the viewer into welcoming warmer emotions such as humour. 


One aspect of the set didn't match the rest: the industrial elements. At some point, an LED flood light shining an orange glow appeared on the far right back of the stage. The kind of light we usually find on construction sites. Was it a mistake that only viewers in the grand circle could see but not others, or was it a deliberate choice? A moment later, a garage door at the far back is suddenly visible when the entire stage is brightly lit from above. The door reappears when

Ariel is liberated and leaves the stage through its opening. However, it did not work. 


The creative choice for industrial elements is unclear, breaks the previously created ambience, and takes you out of the story. Neither the light's presence nor the garage door matched the eerie, magical feel of the set. The industrial look was somewhat confusing for this space. After all, this is meant to be an island, and no other elements evoked living spaces or indicated human prosperity before that. Therefore, as a viewer, the assumption made until then was that the island is empty, a place of survival, a barren land. And not a place where habitat has been built, constructed or even abandoned. A possible alternative to that garage door is wood, which could be lit to match the warmth of the orange glow and the grey tones of the desolate feel of other scenes. 

Digital drawing of the set with the industrial elements © LinkaLipski
Digital drawing of the set with the industrial elements © LinkaLipski

Despite the beautiful and powerful music, the volume and transitions were not quite right. The sound choices lacked variety: music was usually delivered loudly and spontaneously. There was a distinct attempt to create surprise and overwhelm. To really feel overwhelmed, one must be increasingly drowning in emotions until it becomes unbearable. Some transition from silence to loud could have been used. In some instances, more build-up with the volume increasing crescendo would have helped amplify the emotions. Moreover, the best jump scare or surprise effect happens when one is fully immersed in what they are doing.  By playing with build-up and creating a plateau for the emotions, one can create surprise by suddenly changing the sound. This interpretation of 'The Tempest' could have used some pointers from the sound designer Giles Thomas, who is behind the best sound work I have ever experienced in theatre, in the play Equus, directed by Ned Bennett (4)


The lack of build-up in the sound choices was relatively minor, especially compared to the character Prospero's speech delivery. It is challenging for most people to understand old Shakespearean English, especially as not everyone has the privilege of studying this language enough to be familiar with it. Hence, diction is crucial in helping the viewer comprehend the narrative. The person playing Prospero sounded as if they carried on 's' sounds across words and their liaisons, which could have been down to the sound technicians—although that issue wasn't present with other actors and actresses. The lack of clear diction requires the audience to concentrate further to understand the narrative or be distracted and lose key storyline elements. 


Unfortunately, Prospero's lines were also delivered in a flat tone. The combination of a lingering 's' sound muddying the flow of words and a very flat delivery made it difficult to decipher between the start and end of words. In addition, the monotone speech also removed emotions and made it harder to connect with the character or rely on body language cues (of which tone plays a major part) to understand the story. 

Even Prospero's gestures were flat, with stiff arms usually alongside the body or barely moving while talking. At times, the character was meant to be angry, but the only indication was that the voice was getting louder rather than revealing anger. The emotions didn't flow out of the actress and flattened the character's emotional landscape to a dull grey. The monotone speech contrasted with the delivery of other characters, who were much livelier or more realistic. 


It was a bland rendition of Prospero, who was meant to have a complex arch. He is supposed to grow from a destitute man who enslaved Caliban and keeps Ariel as a servant with a lingering desire for being avenged to a man whose heart gets softened by his daughter's love for the King's son Ferdinand and eventually chooses to free himself from anger and others from his contempt. His final speech should evoke inner turmoil, leading to his confidence in his virtuous self and the goodness of liberation. That was not rendered on this particular night by this particular actress.


Overall, the industrial look broke the original ambience. The comedic scenes felt misplaced in this eerie world. Prospero was hard to connect with and understand. Some creative decisions and Prospero's rendition fell flat and took you out of the story.



  • Prospero and Mirando with the storm as fabric © LW theatre
  • Caliban with Prospero in the back © LW theatre



Personal Takeaway


I was seated at the top of the theatre with a good view from the middle. I was enthralled and curious as soon as the pitch black took hold of us. I don't recall being in complete pitch black at a theatre before, and I appreciated the immersion. The set was stunning. However, as soon as they were talking, I couldn't understand a thing and realised this would become difficult to follow, but I was thrilled that I could let my mind concentrate on the visuals. 


I had trouble fighting the desire to fall asleep when Prospero talked, and that character had long speeches. Hence, my realisation was that the tone was monotone. Her voice reminded me of the sleep stories on the Calm app, and the theatre's warm temperature created the ideal conditions for a snooze. However, that wasn't why I came, so I fought all my yawns by focusing on the set design and lighting. 


Digital drawing of the set design lines on the hill        © LinkaLipski
Digital drawing of the set design lines on the hill © LinkaLipski

I had fun noticing how the set was created. When the bright lights from above came in, you could spot the lines along the hills at regular intervals. I am guessing they made the hills using fibreglass, creating separate sections and fixing them together. I wondered if the person in charge sat at the top row to see from our point of view because those transitions could have been filled and polished a tad more to become truly invisible. Perhaps they had no more time or knew that most people wouldn't notice or care for it. To be fair, the lines weren't visible when the lights were dim. I also had fun observing the floaty fabric. I could sense what I assumed were two people holding the horizontal fabric piece and moving it up and down until the person on the left side released it and the person on the right pulled it across the stage. I love sensing all the people who are working backstage.


Animated drawing of the fabric floating across the stage © LinkaLipski
Animated drawing of the fabric floating across the stage © LinkaLipski

At the end of the play, I was shocked to see that people were cheering the actress who did Prospero, with some people, even at the Grand Circle, standing up in ovation and oohing their approval. I figured she must be famous because that would be the only explanation since that was a poor performance compared to the other actors and actresses –who did not get as much applause– and in comparison with many more performances, I have had the pleasure to see in London. Turns out, she is famous. Once out of the theatre, I learned she was the actress from Alien, Sigourney Weaver. 


It is wonderful that she received support from fans, but the other actors and actresses deserve similar support since their performances were better, and it's a shame her fame overshadows that for them. This play demonstrates that being famous does not equate to mastering your craft or excelling in all disciplines within an industry. She now has the opportunity to work at her craft and grow in the theatre genre, and no doubt she will. Meanwhile, performers who don't seek or reach the status of fame should rest assured that aiming for mastery and excellence is as reputable and recognised, at least among us viewers who don't equate fame with excellence. 


Overall, this theatre experience left me with mixed emotions. At times, I was in awe of the creative choices, but I was also left disconnected by how Prospero was played. The performance was hit-and-miss, so I would neither recommend nor discourage anyone from seeing it. 



References


1- For tickets and information for this performance of 'The Tempest':


2- For information from the production company of 'The Tempest':

The Jamie Lloyd Company Creative team

DIRECTOR Jamie Lloyd

SET AND COSTUME DESIGNER Soutra Gilmour

LIGHTING DESIGNER Jon Clark

SOUND DESIGNERS AND CO-COMPOSERS Ben and Max Ringham

CO-COMPOSER Michael 'Mikey J' Asante

MOVEMENT DIRECTOR Fabian Aloise

ASSOCIATE DIRECTOR AND TEXT EDITOR Jonathan Glew

CASTING DIRECTOR Stuart Burt CDG

WIGS, HAIR AND MAKE UP DESIGNER Carole Hancock

INTIMACY COORDINATOR Ingrid Mackinnon

ASSOCIATE SET DESIGNER Rachel Wingate

ASSOCIATE COSTUME DESIGNER Anna Josephs

MUSICAL DIRECTOR Giles Deacon

PERFORMER FLYING & SFX DESIGN John Maddox for Suspended Illusions

ASSISTANT DIRECTOR Cory Hippolyte

ASSISTANT LIGHTING DESIGNER Amelia Fenwick

PROPS SUPERVISOR Fahmida Bakht

PRODUCTION MANAGER Lloyd Thomas

3- A full summary of the play is well explained here:


4 - For information about the play 'Equus':



 
 
 

three 'trauma sketchbooks' opened showing drawings.
Art by Olivia Jo featured at the Art in Mind exhibition at the Brick Lane Gallery, London


Sunday, the sun is shining, and the temperature is close to zero. Going to an art gallery is a perfect excuse to trick me into going out of the house despite the cold. The Brick Lane gallery is at a comfortable walking distance for me and my hip pain issue (I'm improving on that front). It has two separate spaces, which makes it feel like visiting two independent galleries (more fun!). What surprised me the most on this visit was the pricing. I immediately thought "low and underselling" for most featured artists. For instance, I saw many oil paintings priced like acrylics. But oil paintings should be more expensive than other mediums because the paint and materials are expensive. Storage of such expensive materials may also be costly. It is also a medium that requires more time because of the layering process and drying time in between. And from the size of the painting, I have a rough idea of how long it might have taken them time-wise, and I can assure you that they undersell themselves. Assuming that artists in that show are paying themselves a salary based on time spent on the piece, then it is clear that some artists wouldn't cover their basics.



Pen drawing of a bird with gold ropes tight around its body. The wings are detached from the body and opened on both side and a pencil triangular geomteric shape is above the bird's head.
Art by Isabel Russel

The paintings by Isabel Russel are priced at £375 each, and I believe that price is lower than their value. I mean, LOOK AT THEM: they are beautifully executed, have an original composition, and have an interesting artistic point of view. However, while the pricing is a bargain for buyers and investors - if I were you, I'd grab them now- the downside is that it harms the artist and the entire community too. Like Isabel, I also undersell myself, so I know how difficult it is to not continue to do that, and I definitely feel the guilt of it.


Let's break down the pricing in this example. Excluding materials (paints, MDF board, studio space charges), £375 is roughly like paying oneself double minimum wage for 20 hours of work or minimum wage for 40 hours of work. I would estimate this kind of painting to take about 15 hours on the low end of just painting labour (the artist confirmed that in a private discussion). The time she may have spent prior to the painting process could range from a few hours to indefinite. These may include; the conception of the piece (thinking about it, creating it internally as well as sketching it), finding or creating references for the painting and testing out the composition and/or colour combinations on smaller pieces as paint sketches. Usually, the work done before the painting process is about the same as the painting time and quickly takes twice or thrice as long as the painting stage.


The reason why many artists stops their career in art is usually because of selling matters (which lies in the field of economy, sales and capitalism) and less often because of artistic reasons.

The artist is 20 years old, so by age alone, we can assume she takes longer to create, and her fictitious minimum wage is, therefore, lower. We could estimate 15 hours for painting and the same or more for conception and pre-painting work. Hence, I estimate around 40 hours of work per piece. According to the UK government website, the minimum wage for those between 18 and 20 years old is £6.83. This would mean £273.20 for her pocket. However, she is an artist studying at Goldsmiths and living in London. I believe she would deserve the London living wage, which is about £2 extra the minimum wage. Those above 23 years old have a living wage set at £9.50 by the government. It rises to £11.95 for Londoners. So for the sake of logic, let's add £2 for a living wage destined for a 20-year-old Londoner, and we now reach £353.20 for her labour. Well, you will tell me, does it not sound right considering she is selling at £375? Those £20 something definitely goes towards covering the costs of the materials. It does not cover her labour of social media marketing, the transport (including wrapping materials) of the artwork to and from the gallery, or the time required to find a place to be exhibited. Thankfully for her, she does not have to think of commission in her price since the brick lane gallery takes 0% commission which is fantastic. Still, it also means they will likely do no to little sales work and that the artist is probably paying a fee to be exhibited, which I can assure you will be well above £20.


So all and all, I estimate the artist barely covers her costs and labour time. My heart breaks because while it can be considered fair that artists are paid the same as everyone else, the reality is that we are NOT paid the same as everyone else. We do not get near fair compensation for all our time working because making art is more than just painting or drawing. I believe this artist deserves to double this painting's price. Actually, I think she could add a 1 in front of that price tag (£1,375) because her piece of work is also the best of the show, and she has a promising career in front of her. I hope that these prices will not slow down her professional progress to the point of halting her career altogether. Because unfortunately, the reason why many artists stop their career in art is usually because of selling matters (which lies in the field of economy, sales and capitalism) and less often because of artistic reasons.


Pen drawing of a bat foetus with wings covering the face, frontal view, in a circle filled with gold paint
Art by Isabel Russel

As artists, we are often in a hard place decision-wise. Do we accept to be exploited for our free labour, or do we choose to give our labour freely? Essentially we are choosing to volunteer (i.e., make art for free or so underpriced we don't feed ourselves from it) in the hopes of securing a better opportunity later on, but we are faced with two different routes to do so.

One way is to conform to the current game. Similarly to accepting an unpaid internship and hoping for a paid long-term contract at the end, we hope that by agreeing to be exploited, things will turn around and finally pay off. We all know the low certainty of that method, and most of us recognise its unfairness and how it favours some more than others. But we can easily believe it works because of those outliers for whom it did.

The other route is to not conform to the current game. We hope that by arguing the rules, they will be corrected and adjusted for greater fairness. This choice requires an unshakeable faith that by modelling the art scene we deserve, we will create the art scene we want. Yet, many of us may not believe that and start with some helplessness already hardwired. In this case, the first solution seems to be an emotionally logical choice. The sad part is that, in both cases, we have to choose between volunteering to make art or making no art by finding another job that takes all physical and emotional resources away from art.


I can hear the people at the back saying that many artists in that gallery are "emerging", and there is a post-pandemic economic crisis, so we should expect low prices. I don't see it this way. First, I believe we still deserve the same pay as everyone else in the country and the same opportunities to make a living from our professional skills. Because we also need to eat and have a roof over our heads to survive and thrive. Second, why would we expect the most vulnerable members of society to be the ones to struggle further during a crisis? I argue that it would be more logical, fair and righteous if established artists reduced their price points during economic crises. In contrast, emerging artists increase theirs to level up the field. I am not saying established artists should absolutely do that; I am only making a point. The point is that we find it absolutely acceptable to consider the vulnerable artists in the community as unworthy of financial support.


The point is that we find it absolutely acceptable to consider the vulnerable artists in the community as unworthy of financial support.

Here is an excellent example of how artists are often considered outsiders, not part of society. The myth that 'art is not a real job" persists. That stereotype is so pernicious that it has sipped through and can even be found among us artists. This underlying false belief rears its head when we underprice ourselves. As artists, we can regularly review our choices and treat each situation differently to assess which version is best: conformity or rebellion. The market involves more than just artists, so different responsibilities lie within different roles we have in it. Even if they offer no selling service, galleries could advise better on pricing and ensure that group exhibition features coherent pricing among artists to uplift the values of every artwork. The public could pay attention to their reason for buying art: do they like the piece or consider it an investment? They would help by buying art, not just for themselves, but also to build a relationship with the artist: support in exchange for an original piece. And suppose the public cannot buy art. In that case, there are other ways to support an artist, like being more conscious of how to consume art or being emotionally supportive (as opposed to financially).



On this food for thought, I hope you will look at Isabel Russel's art and show her some support. Follow her Instagram and write some comments under her posts to show that real humans are engaging with her, not just robots. Share her images (and credit her, of course), especially with those you think may like it or to places where you wish to see her art on their walls. If you can afford it and like her artwork, get your hands on some of her work. Build a relationship with her and see her progress and how she evolves in her art journey and career, knowing you were there from the start.


🤍 with love, x

Linka.

 
 
 

three 'trauma sketchbooks' opened showing drawings.
My trauma sketchbooks


In the last week or so, my mood has plummeted down into the realm of depression. I have many reasons to be as there is much to grief. I have had quite a lot of past sexual abuse flashbacks in the last two weeks, and I am in the process of grieving the person I could have been. On top of that, the news of Leo Grasset - a French YouTuber who does scientific vulgarisation - abusing women has upset me and reminded me of my former abusive ex (more flashbacks). A day later, the news of the Roe Vs Wade - people with uteruses losing human rights in the United States - came through and with it, the victim-blaming commentaries online. More triggers for me as I remember the lack of justice I received after reporting sexual abuse to the police and the victim-blame I have often endured (yet even more flashbacks). Do not worry. I will be okay again. This too shall pass, but it is fair to say I have much grieving to do and good reasons to be depressed.

Said bout of depression made me realise how, for me, being depressed quickly becomes a trigger in itself. Let me explain. Depression means I'm sad, numb, or angry, as one would. In other words, I'm hurting, I'm in pain. That state raises the wants and needs I have. I need to be soothed, taken care of and hugged while I go through the emotions. I want the pain to go away, a fairer world, and people to be kinder. So far, all seems alright. But experiencing needs and wants triggers past emotional and neglectful abuse, which then makes me depressed and keeps me trapped in a cycle of wants and needs triggering depression ad infinitum. A sort of "traumaception" where trauma brings you one level deeper and deeper until you struggle to recognise what is fantasy from reality.


Growing up, my needs were used as ammunition against me (the reasons behind it are not the topic here). Each desire and need is akin to a bullet to be loaded into a weapon for abuse. There were three ways for my needs to be addressed: denied until I met their needs, dismissed as inappropriate or attended with conditions attached. Conditions were to forfeit independence and freedom and attend to their excessive needs later. Experiencing any form of need is like renouncing myself to abuse. My logical child's mind thought that if I made my needs disappear, there would be no more bullets for them to load the weapons with. One has to admire my past child self's inventiveness and innocence. No one told her they could still hit her with an empty gun. I've grown up, and all I know is to make my wants and needs disappear and attend to those of others. Well.. in recent years, I've been working hard to undo that.


Pen drawing of a bird with gold ropes tight around its body. The wings are detached from the body and opened on both side and a pencil triangular geomteric shape is above the bird's head.
Pen drawing of feeling trapped

Relationships-wise, it's a problem. I still don't know how to trust people. I sometimes attempt to share my needs and wants. I share perhaps between 1 and 10% of my actual need because I don't want to overwhelm people. Unfortunately, in many instances (not always, of course), I find that their efforts are limited and don't even cover a tenth of my need. I likely communicated poorly and clumsily, and maybe people misunderstood its importance. The results are the same, I lose trust and proceed to close the door a little more. And the cycle repeats, I feel down, isolate myself and so on.


How does this have anything to do with art?


Well, you may not know, but I procrastinate making art all the time. I think it's partly because I deny my wants and needs. Every day I think about making art, and my lists of creative projects inside my head keep getting longer and longer. I think about it most when I go to bed, and I tell myself, "If I do it now, I'll mess up my sleep schedule and my health, so I'll do it tomorrow". Tomorrow comes, and I make no art, and the cycle repeats. Mostly, I believe I am attempting to preserve my art, which is usually an extension of me, from being weaponised against me. I want to keep it safe, in my head, where no one can get to it. No one can abuse it.

I want to reach out to the child past me, hug her and tell her she's been so clever in keeping herself safe even though that wasn't her job. I want her to know she can let go now. She's too scared still, so bear with me while I work through this...


Pen drawing of a bat foetus with wings covering the face, frontal view, in a circle filled with gold paint
Pen drawing of a bat foetus

🤍 with love, x

Linka.

 
 
 
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