Have you ever sat on the grass for a good few hours, listening to the wind jostle the leaves around you, eyes closed, not feeling the prickly lawn hairs beneath you, just the gurgle of liquid, the quiet ping of emptiness and egg?
The answer is probably ‘no’ and that is fairly average unless you are a drama student because that is exactly what I did for a few afternoons earlier this year.
We had been given the assignment for our Vocal Performance Class. To create a soundscape that tells a narrative of sorts so obviously I thought of an egg hatching because, why not?
We experimented with sounds like the crunch of bones, the metallic tune of a concave egg, the knock of beak on shell, the flex of unused wing, the rustle of grass beneath it, the plop and slush of liquid inside it, the unsung voice of a baby bird, the muscles stretching for the first time. Each of us trying to embody what it would be like.
There we sat, all four of us in a circle, trying not to draw too much attention from non-drama people because, you know, it looked weird. It wasn’t an unfamiliar feeling though, because when you go to a lecture and end up in the theatre, walking around with your eyes closed until you touch foreheads with someone, it’s hard to imagine drama not being kind of ridiculous at times.
Yes, this is what it may come down to, 4 adults sitting in a circle on the lawn, cackling at the sounds we just made. It was one of the strangest things I have done for drama but it was one of my favourites because how often do you get to say you hatched from an egg, however figurative?