Ahead of Acquah&Co's run of SANKOFA at The Bread & Roses Theatre this February, Nicole Acquah talks us through her top tips for creating autobiographical theatre...
Sankofa is a semi-autobiographical piece of theatre, recently shortlisted for the Women’s Prize for Playwriting. It is about my heritage as a Ghanaian-British woman, and how I found out in only the last few years that I come from a long line of artists. The show explores how this discovery impacted the way I see myself and explores my experiences as a West African woman making work, falling in love, uncovering my personal history…all that fun stuff. I am performing onstage alongside musicians Vanessa Garber and Doyin Ade. It is directed by Carol Leeming MBE and produced by Tia Ray, with voice and dialect by Eleanor Manners and movement direction by Kwame Asafo-Adjei. In addition to writing, I perform in the piece.
Here are some of the things that this process has helped me reflect upon and hopefully some tips to take away for your own shows:
Sankofa is a semi-autobiographical piece of theatre, recently shortlisted for the Women’s Prize for Playwriting. It is about my heritage as a Ghanaian-British woman, and how I found out in only the last few years that I come from a long line of artists. The show explores how this discovery impacted the way I see myself and explores my experiences as a West African woman making work, falling in love, uncovering my personal history…all that fun stuff. I am performing onstage alongside musicians Vanessa Garber and Doyin Ade. It is directed by Carol Leeming MBE and produced by Tia Ray, with voice and dialect by Eleanor Manners and movement direction by Kwame Asafo-Adjei. In addition to writing, I perform in the piece.
Here are some of the things that this process has helped me reflect upon and hopefully some tips to take away for your own shows:
Follow the story
My first tip for creating autobiographical theatre is to follow the story. Even when you don’t yet have the whole picture. Engage fully in the process each step of the way – both in your practice and in your life as a whole. Autobiography is a day to day event. (Obviously). So your piece of theatre is writing itself in your interactions, in your past and in your present. The process is always happening. When people ask me ‘How long does it take you to write a play?’ I know they want a measurable answer: “two months, five months!” – perhaps so they can repeat this in their own lives. But the answer is murkier. The seeds to your play, especially an autobiographical piece, can be sown over a lifetime. My first autobiographical work was called For a Black Girl, which I hunkered down and wrote in three days straight (didn’t leave my room, didn’t see people and alternated between sleeping and writing furiously) was actually made up of events that had happened to me over time. Accumulated voices and experiences which I had to engage in fully, be present during. Writing the play was the work of organising them into a narrative, sure, but the narrative was lived experiences. I had to be listening and curious and attentive throughout my life. Memory underpinned the entire piece.
Sankofa, Acquah&co’s new show, had seeds planted way back in 2018, when I did an R&D at Omnibus Theatre. The sharing looked nothing like this current show, but I can now see that the seeds of exploring language and history were present – topics I was interested in but had yet to receive the revelation about how the story needed to be told. The revelation came in 2020. You look back and see how your path has been carved, rather than necessarily carving the path out for yourself. Don’t despise the small beginnings; turn up to each R&D, every life event, every rehearsal on each seemingly unrelated show, every live performance, with your full self, absorbing, soaking in experience. The seeds for your own narrative are being planted. You just need to be present.
My first tip for creating autobiographical theatre is to follow the story. Even when you don’t yet have the whole picture. Engage fully in the process each step of the way – both in your practice and in your life as a whole. Autobiography is a day to day event. (Obviously). So your piece of theatre is writing itself in your interactions, in your past and in your present. The process is always happening. When people ask me ‘How long does it take you to write a play?’ I know they want a measurable answer: “two months, five months!” – perhaps so they can repeat this in their own lives. But the answer is murkier. The seeds to your play, especially an autobiographical piece, can be sown over a lifetime. My first autobiographical work was called For a Black Girl, which I hunkered down and wrote in three days straight (didn’t leave my room, didn’t see people and alternated between sleeping and writing furiously) was actually made up of events that had happened to me over time. Accumulated voices and experiences which I had to engage in fully, be present during. Writing the play was the work of organising them into a narrative, sure, but the narrative was lived experiences. I had to be listening and curious and attentive throughout my life. Memory underpinned the entire piece.
Sankofa, Acquah&co’s new show, had seeds planted way back in 2018, when I did an R&D at Omnibus Theatre. The sharing looked nothing like this current show, but I can now see that the seeds of exploring language and history were present – topics I was interested in but had yet to receive the revelation about how the story needed to be told. The revelation came in 2020. You look back and see how your path has been carved, rather than necessarily carving the path out for yourself. Don’t despise the small beginnings; turn up to each R&D, every life event, every rehearsal on each seemingly unrelated show, every live performance, with your full self, absorbing, soaking in experience. The seeds for your own narrative are being planted. You just need to be present.
Emotional safety
Of course, I can’t talk about autobiographical work without discussing emotional safety! For me this includes awareness of yourself, of the other people in the room. It involves safe words, safe processes, intimacy directors where required, open discussions and lines of communication, well-observed breaks and the flexibility to pivot when a particular process isn’t serving yourself or anybody else.
I wrote a longer piece exclusively about emotional safety if it is useful for anyone. Its here: Emotional Safety in the Rehearsal Room - Exeunt Magazine and I am always interested in other people’s processes as I don’t feel we talk about it enough! So, I would love to hear your own process if you also make autobiographical work and felt like sharing your own tips!
Own your story
Following on from that, mental safety is paramount. For me, I think I have achieved a level of ownership over the narrative of Sankofa. Part of that has come about during the actual process of writing the script! Writing the script helped me to compartmentalise, reflect upon and understand my own thoughts and feelings, as well as the sort of thing I will no longer accept from other people, etc. Rehearsals have of course, helped me improve as a performer and learn more about myself. All of this helps my own mental safety. I am often asked ‘How do you know how much to share in an autobiographical work and what you should hold back?’
Aside from writing from a place of healing, rather than a place of fresh wounds (very important! The foundation of safety in writing, I think), I can offer this:
The question of things being ‘too much’ for me is mostly applicable when I haven’t yet owned a part of my life. This is a bit different from healing. Healing can be internal, but I think ownership involves an element of confidence when it comes to outward expression. To heal, I am comfortable with who I am. To own, I am comfortable in showing you that. When you can look an audience in the eye, bare your soul, but also guard your heart in the knowledge that this is ‘your story’ and no amount of retroactive judgment is going to send you spiralling…then we’ve struck gold my friend.
Although, of course, owning your story is a process and is something that can happen in rehearsal too. As performer-creator you can tweak the script as needed, to suit your current level of ownership.
Writer/Performer hat
Speaking of being the writer and performer, it is useful to dedicate specific times during which you will be juggling these hats. A time for script work in which you are (more or less) only wearing your writer hat. A time for rehearsal in which you approach the text with fresh eyes as a performer – almost laying aside your intentions as the writer and seeing what can be done when the text is delivered. And there are, of course, times to be both. I think that is important. We can focus so much on splitting up our creative hats but what if we acknowledged where they can be in communication? How can they feed into and actually improve the other? Where does your knowledge of dance impact your understanding of the metre and rhythm of the piece? Where does your knowledge of text impact your delivery? Where do your different hats actually aid each other?
When reading the script aloud, does it flow naturally? Are you actually finding that you need to edit a few words? Do it! When performing a scene, are you just looking at your text as intimidating words, or are you taking the time to delve into personal history and memory? The process of research doesn’t stop in the writing alone. Let’s take the time to remember those moments – how you felt, what the day looked like, what you smelled, who you saw. All of these things contribute to a richer performance, a richer process, a richer presence. It’s good to acknowledge your multiple experiences, and talents and use them all in service of a greater story.
I hope this was helpful! If you would like to keep updated with our work, please follow @Acquahco and @Sankofaplay on Twitter and instagram.
See you at the show!
SANKOFA runs 15th - 19th February at The Bread & Roses Theatre, BOOK NOW
Of course, I can’t talk about autobiographical work without discussing emotional safety! For me this includes awareness of yourself, of the other people in the room. It involves safe words, safe processes, intimacy directors where required, open discussions and lines of communication, well-observed breaks and the flexibility to pivot when a particular process isn’t serving yourself or anybody else.
I wrote a longer piece exclusively about emotional safety if it is useful for anyone. Its here: Emotional Safety in the Rehearsal Room - Exeunt Magazine and I am always interested in other people’s processes as I don’t feel we talk about it enough! So, I would love to hear your own process if you also make autobiographical work and felt like sharing your own tips!
Own your story
Following on from that, mental safety is paramount. For me, I think I have achieved a level of ownership over the narrative of Sankofa. Part of that has come about during the actual process of writing the script! Writing the script helped me to compartmentalise, reflect upon and understand my own thoughts and feelings, as well as the sort of thing I will no longer accept from other people, etc. Rehearsals have of course, helped me improve as a performer and learn more about myself. All of this helps my own mental safety. I am often asked ‘How do you know how much to share in an autobiographical work and what you should hold back?’
Aside from writing from a place of healing, rather than a place of fresh wounds (very important! The foundation of safety in writing, I think), I can offer this:
The question of things being ‘too much’ for me is mostly applicable when I haven’t yet owned a part of my life. This is a bit different from healing. Healing can be internal, but I think ownership involves an element of confidence when it comes to outward expression. To heal, I am comfortable with who I am. To own, I am comfortable in showing you that. When you can look an audience in the eye, bare your soul, but also guard your heart in the knowledge that this is ‘your story’ and no amount of retroactive judgment is going to send you spiralling…then we’ve struck gold my friend.
Although, of course, owning your story is a process and is something that can happen in rehearsal too. As performer-creator you can tweak the script as needed, to suit your current level of ownership.
Writer/Performer hat
Speaking of being the writer and performer, it is useful to dedicate specific times during which you will be juggling these hats. A time for script work in which you are (more or less) only wearing your writer hat. A time for rehearsal in which you approach the text with fresh eyes as a performer – almost laying aside your intentions as the writer and seeing what can be done when the text is delivered. And there are, of course, times to be both. I think that is important. We can focus so much on splitting up our creative hats but what if we acknowledged where they can be in communication? How can they feed into and actually improve the other? Where does your knowledge of dance impact your understanding of the metre and rhythm of the piece? Where does your knowledge of text impact your delivery? Where do your different hats actually aid each other?
When reading the script aloud, does it flow naturally? Are you actually finding that you need to edit a few words? Do it! When performing a scene, are you just looking at your text as intimidating words, or are you taking the time to delve into personal history and memory? The process of research doesn’t stop in the writing alone. Let’s take the time to remember those moments – how you felt, what the day looked like, what you smelled, who you saw. All of these things contribute to a richer performance, a richer process, a richer presence. It’s good to acknowledge your multiple experiences, and talents and use them all in service of a greater story.
I hope this was helpful! If you would like to keep updated with our work, please follow @Acquahco and @Sankofaplay on Twitter and instagram.
See you at the show!
SANKOFA runs 15th - 19th February at The Bread & Roses Theatre, BOOK NOW