Some thoughts on some Storytellers
Hello friends,
I missed my post yesterday, I plum forgot, and today I’m going to try something a little bit new. I’m seeing a lot of master storytellers down here, and my thought is I would like to share my thoughts on some of them with you, so below we’ve got some bits about two storytellers I’ve seen in the last two days. But don’t you worry, if any of you were (and I doubt you were) I won’t be not telling about what’s happening with my tales or any of my own philosophies, this will just be another part of the blog, that way it won’t turn into just a ramblin’ about me, but we’ll keep it a little more interesting and might give you some thoughts about other storytellers to check out. Enjoy.
Lethan
8/29/07 – Willie Claflin - National Storytelling Center
What stands out most about Claflin’s show is the seamless transition he makes from conversing with the audience into the story (hypnotizing the audience). This was discussed afterwards, and we looked at: 1) setting the scene for the story, which Claflin performs in a conversational style, interacting with the audience, speaking directly to us; and then 2) he transitions into the story with a “Once upon a time” like phrase: such as “One night, when I was lying in bed…”. This helps the audience to make the transition into the story. He also recognizes this is not the only way to do this; he referenced Sid Lieberman method of taking a beat to step into the story.
Claflin also referenced that he tends to be a rather shy person, yet he finds his place at home on stage. His informal presentation style is a result of this: he imagines the stage as a living room, kitchen, or porch where he is just gathering with some friends to share. It seems this allows the audience to be drawn in quicker – it removes the fourth wall and allows us to be with him. As mentioned above, this allows the transition into the story to be seamless and I, as an audience member, didn’t feel I was being forced to imagine, or even asked, my mind just took off.
There were two stage props used by Claflin in his performance: Maynard the Moose (a puppet) and a guitar. I will discuss each of these individually. Maynard’s cartoon-like persona gave Claflin the ability to interact with the audience in a way he would not be able to do. Maynard loved the word “stupid” and was able to use it to such an extreme that it became comical. Claflin also mentioned how, by Maynard’s use of the term, his own son didn’t feel compelled to use it. I think this may come from the presentation of Maynard as such a fool that we laugh at, not with, and the children watching this don’t seek to hold Maynard as an ideal, when they mimic him it is in jest. The cartoon-like character could also allow for some slapstick in a performance.
Typically a guitar is used to accompany songs, and from Claflin’s mention of his previous experience as a folk musician I assume that he can use it for this, but what I found interesting in this performance was how the guitar was not used in this manner. He did take his starting note from it for the folk ballad he sung, but then the piece was unaccompanied. The piece in which the guitar was most used, however, was his piece about “ugly music” and his beginning use of the guitar. While the guitar was used to make music, its primary purpose was to be a prop: the thing his parents didn’t approve of and allowed his rebellious actions. It became a part of the story and not an accompanying tool outside the story.
After Claflin’s performance, we had the opportunity to sit and talk with him for a bit. During this discussion, we learned of his study of some deceased tellers styles: Marshall Dodge, Gamble Rogers, and J J Reneaux. What I found fascinating here was his focus on, not only telling the tellers stories, but telling in their voice. It was here that I most recognized his musical training through his focus on the rhythm and tone of each teller. It also reemphasized what the voice of a teller brings to a performance. We heard the grand difference between Claflin’s own voice, Marshall Dodge’s Maine slow speech, and Gamble Roger’s quick southern speech.
Claflin’s style allowed me to not even feel as if I was watching a performance. I was just sitting with some friends and sharing some time: beautifully done and fulfilling for the soul.
8/30/07 – Ray Hicks – two videos (A Foolish Irishman Tale and Solider Jack)
We saw two videos of Ray Hicks today: he performed A Foolish Irishman (Arishman) Tale and Soldier Jack. You could sense, even from the video, that this man was born and raised on storytelling. He didn’t perform, he just let the stories come. Now I will try to analyze some of what allowed him to work his craft.
Hicks’ mountain accent was thick through out both stories, and at times I had difficulty understanding the words, but what I found interesting was that this didn’t take away from the story at all. Instead, the rhythm and sound of the language caught me and carried me with it. It reminded me of something Willie Claflin said yesterday when talking about the benefit of reading words to children that they might not understand: “…it allows children to plunge into the sea of language.” That’s how I felt with Hicks, I was carried away on a current and didn’t have any need to look back or even understand what was happening.
You could also tell his attachment to storytelling though his gestures and posture. When he was in the story it seemed to take over his body: he wasn’t acting out the story, but letting the story make him act. His face would light up, his hands would start flailing, or they wouldn’t, but it all looked natural. No, it was natural. He referenced the power of stories in the video we saw about him when he mentioned how telling stories revives him, however tired he may be, after he tells a story he feels alive.
One piece I noticed is that his stories, especially Soldier Jack, didn’t have a grand conclusion, no “button”. Instead the piece just trickled away, back into reality again. Coming from a theatrical background, I find this fascinating. Hicks’ Foolish Irishman story did have a punch line, causing the audience to laugh, but there was nothing in Soldier Jack. Through my theater and other performance arts, I’ve been trained that there needs to be an ending, some cue to let the audience know, “Alright, the show is done, it’s time to clap,” but Hicks’ Jack story didn’t have that at all. The audience he was performing to, a group of children, didn’t even clap. In discussion afterwards, I learned this is typical for more traditional tellers, and that makes sense; the story is not a performance, merely a tale that needs to come out.
I don’t know whether I like this. In many ways, I find it beautiful: while the teller is completely a part of the story and his put him or herself in the story, it isn’t about the teller, and that is storytelling; but at the same time I’ve been schooled in performance arts for such a long time that I do view storytelling as a performance, and feel the performer should be recognized by the audience if they have done a good job (which Hicks certainly did). I also wonder the unrecognized teller may be one thing that brings harm to storytelling in our culture; people do not recognize the importance of the art when they’re just hearing their grandfather ramble on again, no matter how much they may enjoy his rambles. And I will admit: I do believe my ego plays a part in my thoughts; I love to hear that I have an effect on the audience when I perform. And yes, I do perform. Maybe that’s the difference, Hicks just lives the stories, and that is a beautiful thing.