In your benevolence, hear the Observer's plea for the meaning of Low Extremes by Michel Kildress.
Starring Nathan Blades as Wrenfrew, the Observer (he/them)
With additional voices from the season 1 cast
The meaning of Low Extremes
I Need A Miracle, season 1, episode 7 of 12
Written and created by Matt Boothman
Directed by Robert Valentine
Music by Katharine Seaton
Sound design by Sarah Buchynski
Casting by Fiona Thraille
Recorded at Jukebox Studios
Broadcast assistance from Teresa Milewski
Cover art by Dionysis Livanis
Produced by Sarah Golding of Wireless Theatre for Foggy Outline
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Transcript
Delicate synth and violin music plays; mysterious, calm but slightly haunting.
ANNOUNCER 1:
Foggy Outline presents: I Need A Miracle. Produced by Wireless Theatre.
The meaning of Low Extremes. Written by Matt Boothman. Performed by Nathan Blades.
The music ends.
A murmur of many pleading voices, overlapping indistinguishably.
Out of the murmur, a single voice breaks through.
THE OBSERVER:
In your benevolence, I beg you, hear my plea and send me a miracle.
The murmurs die away. THE OBSERVER is at an art exhibition. A little way off, other patrons and collectors talk in hushed tones, exchanging opinions and hammering out the details of exchanges.
THE OBSERVER:
So – this piece I’m looking at right now. The Kildress – “Low Extremes”. Could you make it so I … get it? So I … see whatever it is everyone else here seems to be seeing?
THE OBSERVER makes a self-disgusted sound in their throat.
THE OBSERVER:
(to himself) I’m so stupid…
Sorry, sorry, I shouldn’t have – I mean, when you think what’s possible, in your benevolence, soon as I said it out loud I heard how stupid it was, I just … yeah. I feel stupid. I panicked? I, I think I’m panicking a bit.
THE OBSERVER takes a moment to glance at the other patrons.
THE OBSERVER:
They’re all talking about it. Every other collector here took one look at this piece, and went straight off into little huddles about it. This is a big collection, I mean it’s Scordeh—
Abruptly, time winds backwards. THE OBSERVER’s last couple of sentences are pulled away, back into their mouth. Something strange and supernatural is happening.
THE OBSERVER:
–went straight off into little huddles about it. This is a big collection, I mean it’s Scordeh–
The word is strangely obscured. Muffled by something. But THE OBSERVER doesn’t seem to notice.
THE OBSERVER:
Even a new collector like me knows she’s got a lot that’s worth seeing, worth parting with a few prize pieces for. But no one’s even looking at the Pre-Eidetic canvases. It’s all about this one, mid-period, Kildress. I can feel the whole room orbiting around it.
They all look really serious. Couldn’t tell you if they think that it’s good, or if they’re all wondering what on earth Scordeh’s thinking–
Again, the name is mysteriously obscured, as if THE OBSERVER were plunged underwater just for that moment.
THE OBSERVER:
–putting it on show at an exchange like this, but, either way they’ve all got a lot to say about it.
THE OBSERVER takes a ragged, anxious breath.
THE OBSERVER:
Someone’s going to try and talk to me about it any minute now. I can feel it. I’ve got prickles all over my scalp.
I’m a new face. If I’m completely honest … I’m not really big time enough to be here. I doubt there’s anything in my collection that someone like Scordeh would take a second look at–
Again that momentary muffling making the name nearly impossible to make out.
THE OBSERVER:
–that’s got to be making some of these players curious. Maybe that’ll save me. Maybe I can keep them talking about me, not the piece. Who I think I am, what I think I’m going to get out of being here. Maybe I can test the water about side-room exchanges, if I can find someone not too far above my level. It’s not the done thing, but better they think I’m some…
(imitating the haughty art collectors) …“hungry upstart that doesn’t get the etiquette”, rather than “an animal with no taste whatsoever”. Ugh.
Because if anyone asks me about the Kildress … I … I just haven’t got a single thing to say. I haven’t got a single thought in my head about this piece. I’m … blank. But … they can … clearly all see something. There … must be something to see. I … just need to see it too. So, is that something you can … c–can you show me what they’re seeing?
It’s just ridiculous. It’s not like I’m illiterate. I’m not uncultured. I’ve had things to say about Kildress’s other work. Their early career clays: energetic, pregnant with the potential of an artist gestating in their own style. The Votive Apex, a grand folly. Can’t fault the ambition but the prophecy story was a bit much. More impressive as engineering than as art. I felt things about those pieces. Took time to learn the words to describe what I felt, but, that was the only hard part. This … there’s, there’s nothing to describe. I don’t … feel … anything. There’s nothing to say.
Um … I’m not sure what’s the centre of attention now. The piece … or me. I … I think people are starting to realise something’s up? I’m the only one here still looking at the piece, and not talking to anyone about it. I’ve spent so long staring at it, they’re going to expect something really, seriously, profound out of me.
I bet they’re all thinking I’m going to make a play for it. Maybe … I even should! If it’s in my own collection, I can take all the time I want to try and figure it out – in private. Without getting peppered by all these glances. Is it cheating at art appreciation if I just … ask you to reveal it all to me? It’s not, is it? Contemplating a work of art and experiencing divine revelation? Isn’t that true appreciation?
THE OBSERVER grumbles to himself. They don’t believe what they’re saying either. Then a new idea comes to him.
THE OBSERVER:
(with sudden enthusiasm) What if you change it.
Change the piece.
What – what if you … make it different. Make it always have been something different, something that means something to me. Something I can understand! Something I feel some kind of way about.
(gleefully, mischeviously) What if you made it ugly? Something no one would want to look at for more than a second. Then we’d be all free of this horrible tension, and we could just … get on with business.
No. That wouldn’t be very benevolent, would it. Maybe for me. Not so much for Scordeh.
Again, something distorts the name. THE OBSERVER still doesn’t notice anything amiss.
THE OBSERVER:
Not so much for Michel Kildress. It’s not their deficiency.
Pause.
THE OBSERVER:
All right, no more of this. You know what I think? I think they all like it. They all think it’s good. They all know they’re in the presence of art. Good, desirable, art. They all want it and they think I want it too, and I’m an unknown quantity. They’re all looking at good art and they think that I’m going to fight them for it, and: they’re worried I might win. I know how I feel about that, at least. I want them to be right. I want it to be good. I want to be looking at a shockingly, transcendently good work of art right now. I want to experience art that comes out of nowhere and knocks me off my feet. I want to talk to a room full of interesting, knowledgeable people about the incredible mid-period Kildress none of us were prepared for, and get all breathless about how wonderful it is, and commiserate about how nothing in my collection could possibly be a worthwhile exchange for it. I want to congratulate whoever makes the acquisition, and beg for an invitation to view their collection, and be surprised all over again.
(laughing) Can you make that happen? I can give a pretty good go of it myself if not, I think.
I – I think there was a plea somewhere in there.
A murmur of indistinguishable voices begins to swell up over THE OBSERVER’s voice.
If you heard one, if you can make sense of it, please grant it to me. But … no worries if not.
All the voices fade away.
ANNOUNCER 2:
I Need A Miracle is a Foggy Outline podcast produced by Wireless Theatre. Directed by Robert Valentine. Produced by Sarah Golding. Casting by Fiona Thraille. Broadcast assistance by Teresa Milewski. Music by Katharine Seaton. Sound design by Sarah Buchynski. Recorded by Stephen H. at Jukebox Studios. Find more audio gold at wirelesstheatrecompany.co.uk and foggyoutline.com.
Thank you for listening.