The road to where I am now has been an interesting one – high in life experience, but thus far low in stability. I have worked extensively across the UK and Ireland, toured much of Europe and the Levant, and also lived or worked for prolonged periods in France, Poland, Russia, Turkey, Palestine, Bahrain, the UAE, China, Kazakhstan, and Singapore. I rarely seek travel for the sake of it (unless it affords the chance to enrich my historical and cultural perspectives), but thus far I’ve spent time in 39 countries, and counting. This has most certainly aided my expertise as a performer and educator, ensuring I maintain an acute awareness of the diverse narratives necessary to inform my pedagogy, and artistry in service of those whom I work with, and create work for.

My professional journey started in training on the then unique Actor-Musician course at Rose Bruford College in London. A key element of this training was in post-Grotowskian physical theatre work as led by Gabriel Gawin, Jeremy Harrison, and Matthieu Leloup-Bellon; often supplemented by diverse visiting practitioners from around the world at the college’s annual symposium, and other events. It was through this work, which has a strong focus on ensemble building, that I began to understand and explore the wonders of theatrical space, human interconnectivity, and how action and impulse can dance through, and between them. The term used to describe various parts of these phenomena were often referred to as “musicality”.

After graduating I joined Bred in the Bone Theatre Company, an ensemble led by several members/ex-members of Teatr Pieśń Kozła, and spent several years developing new actor training models, and creating our own work in the UK, France, and at the Grotowski Institute in Wrocław, Poland. For several years we developed a version of Don Quixote, exploring use of Shakespearean text in six different first languages. Through this work as performer, musical director, and vocal coach, I was able to tease out the elements of musicality within theatrical space. We focused on the music which could not be heard, and the silence beyond sound. I would hear symphonies in my head squashed into a single second, felt the interconnectivity of performers in space as visceral connections through ethereal strings (long before I had come to know of String Theory), heard (not remembered) sounds and instruments not there, and at times believed I could see the very fabric of space-time itself.

With much of the post-Grotowskian work based in elements of ritualistic theatre, group breathing and rhythm, and distinct elements of shamanic practices; it is perhaps little wonder that I had many mind opening, or bending, experiences. I knew very early on that these were key elements which I felt were missing through so much of both my training, and the work I saw: not that actors should be in trance, but that a rehearsed connection never felt as real or alive as a lived one. So many people talk of “being in the moment”, but few seem to be able to define what this is, much less how to teach it other than “feel” or “stop thinking”. Some techniques cite the opposite, and ask performers to over think, that by stimulating their thoughts specifically and with great volume, that they might negate the editor active in all of us. Negation of the editor for the sake of an over-active mind can be a double-edged sword in my experience, however. It is a rare actor who can wield this weapon and not cut the head off the life of what is unfolding around them.

But then so too, do many post-Grotowskian companies suffer from an over-commitment to substance, over form. I have always been thankful for the development this arc gave me as a performer, but then felt frustrated as practitioner and audience member at the lack of narrative which seems abundant in such work. If we come to the theatre to share stories, why abandon the narrative for the sake of connection? Surely there must be a means to synthesise the two? And this is to say nothing of the pedagogical problems inherent to the lineage of this kind of work which is so prone to creating gurus and despots; but more on resolving those issues later…

Alongside my work at the Grotowski Institute, I also spent several periods working as a vocal coach at the Freedom Theatre in Jenin, Palestine. With a lifelong interest in the history and culture of the region, and building on my experience with non-English speakers working in Poland, I spent several periods helping develop the voice element of the acting course starting in 2010 under Juliano Mer-Khamis, and including Playback theatre tours of the West Bank led by Ben Rivers.

Parallel to this, I was maintaining an intermittent career as a working actor in the UK, and for a time, as a signed artist to Decca records with The Punchbowl Band. I realised however that were my services in Palestine and Poland to move beyond my limited undergraduate understanding of the vocal training I had received myself, that further study was needed, and thus I enrolled on the MFA in Voice studies at the Royal Central School of Speech and Drama in London, graduating in 2016.

The development of the application of my work in Palestine became the main focus of the thesis for my MFA, and has subsequently developed into a unique practice covering acting and voice, taught through physical exercises emanating from post-Grotowskian work. The need for this in Palestine was absolute, and the details of which I’ll get into in a moment; but as time and life has progressed, I realise that this work is essential in so many other regions. My work at The Freedom Theatre helped define the core of my practice as an inclusive means of training vocal connection to impulse and action, alongside empowering the actor to own these as artist and performer within the reality they occupy around them.

Many vocal practices, and the central one underpinning the training through my MFA, teaches that connection to image is an inherent necessity. As a well renowned practitioner once said to us in a masterclass “the actor’s greatest tool is their imagination, so why wouldn’t you use it?”. The answer as to why not is two-fold.

Firstly, not all people, whether in action or in training their vocal and acting skills, have the same access to image. For most of us, if I say “imagine a lemon in your hand”, we can see it from memory and perhaps remember its weight, touch, or smell; or we can imagine it – a lemon never seen before – but equally we “see” it in the same place as we do a memory, i.e. we’re thinking about it. Much less common, there are other people who can actually visualise their imagination in front of them. They can effectively hallucinate a lemon in their hand, as real as day, as vividly as would cause others to panic that they were having visions. Then there are others even fewer in number still, who have no access to vision in their imagination at all. The few people I’ve met who fall into this category usually attest to this being an hereditary trait, but such people can’t tell you the colour of their front door, or in extreme cases, recognise family members in the street unless they know they are going to meet them.

Secondly, a person’s imagination, whether visual or encompassing other senses, is a PANDORAS BOX which should be opened with care, by mutual consent, and under explicit agreement of what will take place. Any trained actor reading this, or person who has had a guided meditation will no doubt recall being asked to think of lying of a beach, listening to the waves, feeling the wind on their face, or considering a deep pool in their core, from which sounds/images/and feelings can all ripple fourth. All lovely as an idea! Yet the reality is that when we ask a group of people to lay on the floor and close their eyes, regardless of how well we have set up the room and safe-working initiatives, regardless of how well intentioned or well-rehearsed our ideas may be; in this moment, individuals are robbed of a greater or lesser amount of their autonomy. Social anxiety about disturbing a group learning situation abounds, and as I and many of you have likely witnessed, the overzealous instructor will dismiss problems which individuals do raise as them “not trying hard enough” or by other lame and tired excuses.
The core of the matter remains however, that whilst a beach may be relaxing for you, or a pool of vibrations seem like a lovely metaphor, the reality is that you have no idea if that person suffered a violent assault on a beach, had a near drowning experience, or otherwise. It may be that such a person has buried such an experience deep in their subconscious and is unable to tell you even if you ask about image sets at the outset! Despite good intentions, or egos of practitioners who think they have full awareness, or that their method holds all the answers; we are not, by default, trained psychologists. This is vitally important: this work often takes place at the start of a training process, and in my and countless other’s experience, can re-traumatise people, or for those with ultra-vivid imaginations, terrorise them afresh when their imaginations begin to wander. Such techniques are pervasive in so many methods, but the good news is that their use simply isn’t necessary.

When working at the Freedom Theatre I quickly learnt that water imagery wasn’t helpful. Many vocal methods use this as a means of finding relaxation and allowing fluid breath as they teach performers to recognise and release habitual tensions. In Jenin camp and its surrounds, residents can see a sea which many will never see, even though their forefathers fished the waters for centuries. Likewise, water rights are systematically denied to Palestinians by the Israeli state, and thus asking the average Jenin resident to think about water and relax, is akin to asking a prisoner to be happy whilst thinking about a nice walk outside the walls with their children: crass, insensitive, and possibly abusive.

I tried for a limited time to use alternative image sets, yet faced similar problems. Considering the wind on the leaf of a tree, its roots anchoring a connection to the ground, its bark as skin reflective of age, soaking up the smells and sounds around it; I thought there would surely be an image set which could prove less problematic than water? Not so. Some students experienced things I may have considered they might, where others felt they were sinking into sand, or being buried alive. Other exercises which enabled individual students to define their own image sets based on sensory or emotional goals also yielded similar problems and limitations.

It soon became apparent that the problem was not the manner in which image use was established, nor the image base used or devised. The issue was with image itself: that it is neither a constant nor a universally accessible construct, but also that its use is unnecessary in achieving any of the learning outcomes which one may look for at such times. As with so much of theatre training practices, a commitment to tradition, or teaching in the manner or through material which practitioners themselves were taught, is rampant and hard to overcome. The reality is that whilst image may be a useful tool to achieve specific learning outcomes; to court it in a group learning environment, or in group meditative states, is to risk all the dangers inherent to opening Pandora’s Box without looking or knowing what is inside. The real question might be, should you ever hope to know, or do you have the right?

The problems found in teaching uses of image and imagination also pertain to the teaching, and art, of acting.

Firstly, we can certainly consider the term “acting” to be a misnomer that unfortunately will likely remain the universal definition of the craft. To be more precise, we are enacting the art of Being whilst being (existing) in imaginary circumstances. To be or not to be, indeed! I appreciate and acknowledge that a concept of Being is in itself difficult to define - whether as has been detailed by others as “struggling to say things for which our conventional terms and linguistic constructions are ultimately inadequate”, yet still I feel it is a better term than “acting” as the complexity of the craft and essence of what we are looking at is so much more complex as a result. Nevertheless, we all want to see performances which are layered, nuanced, and detailed. Yet the access to both thought processes and emotion which may be triggered by them, is just as varied and wide as a person’s innate capacity to access image. Imagination for the actor is not a given skill, but nor does it need to be. We broadly see two distinct variations of actors, yet only one and the process which serves them is usually given succour or validation in Western actor-training methods.

To begin, we have the actor who can imagine readily and vividly, and bring this work to bear in service of their craft. It is often the case that such actors have a natural affinity with the Stanislavskian system, and variations from it. It is acting by numbers, logical progression, and academic application of knowledge. The super objective informs the objective, the units, and the action; the given circumstances, obstacles, and concentration of attention amongst all other analytical details combine to give the artist the palette from which to paint their picture, with their imagination filling in the gaps. For the actor who can imagine easily, so too will they synthesise their palette quickly in bringing fourth colour and life to the blank canvas of the space they step into. They paint a picture specific to the commission they were given by the playwright, paying special attention to areas considered important to the director, and paint in a style which will rouse their audience the fullest. For such actors, the more information the better, as all can be brought to bear in bringing the most detailed life to their moments of creation.

Secondly, there are actors who can handle very little in terms of linear information. They do not assemble a palette, but rather use whatever they have to hand. They still work from the commission of the playwright, they still focus on what the director wants, and consider their artistry in service of the audience; but the act of painting the picture, the artistry of their craft, is achieved by simply being present and responding. Such actors may often find high levels of detail or the sight of a palette with so many options to cause sensory overload which limits their ability to paint a picture altogether. They don’t need vivid imaginations, because their ability to respond without thought and academic application is as fast and as seamless for those who do work by such means. They are simply alive to the theatrical moment, and leave the imagination to the director, designers, and the audience.

Sometimes, but not always, these differences are evident in the two types of actor which people broadly enjoy watching. The first is the master craftsman who takes all detail possible and uses it to transform themselves (physically, mentally, emotionally, phonically, or otherwise) into radically different characters for each role. As audiences, we often celebrate their artistry and ability for observation, mimicry, or creation. They often play roles which leave the audience dumbfounded that they were the same actor they had seen previously in a different role. The second is the actor who utilises some of these skills, but mostly chooses to let their own personality and mannerisms shine through. These are the actors whom we feel we know, whether we like or loathe such personas, but whom we are drawn to watching in a variety of different settings. Sometimes we barely see the character for the force of personality which shines through from the actor themselves.

Practitioners, educators, actors, and audiences will all unfortunately argue until they are blue in the face as to which type of actor, or which type of process is “correct”. The reality of course is that it doesn’t matter – beauty is in the eye of the beholder, the audience. The unfortunate reality is however, that though such different types of actor have been present, visible, and celebrated through time immemorial; that in many Western actor training environments, and for a whole host of reasons, the service of only one type of training has been available for the past several generations, and unfortunately along with it has been the derision of anyone who could not conform to this model, or who simply was not so inclined.

Many of you reading this will see the obvious parallels to a spectrum of people and learning preferences between order and chaos. Such a spectrum may well be indicative of the neurodiversity spectrum we are all on from dyslexia to autism, with my two limited examples suggesting a movement towards either extreme of such poles.

It remains the case however that whether in the training of voice, or the psycho-emotive processes of acting (though equally in training music, dance, or any other performative skill), that we all seek to bypass the “editor” which causes mental recognition of action, emotion, or thought in the theatrical moment; robs actors or their ability to respond to impulse; and ensures dry performances which even when rehearsed to run like clockwork, undoubtedly do so without the oil or fine tuning to make this operate seamlessly. From a necessity to ensure this is found, trained, and delivered through training, but also as a means to address the problems within physical theatre training of addressing bodywork as fundamental and then simply “putting the voice on top”; I sought to utilise my skills base from the post-Grotowskian work in Poland in service of new vocal and actor training practices which achieved the same learning outcomes whilst negating the necessity of guided meditation in group learning, or inferences that imagery and imagination were prerequisites for being able to train or function as a viable actor. This journey has become no small part of my life’s work, and a central tenet of my practice. However, in order to address to guruism of the post-Grotowskian world, and the despotic nature of so many Western directors and acting tutors, I sought to build my system based on a reality of what is scientifically tangible, and theorise what is scientifically possible as the basis of truth (to be debatable and definable by student and tutor alike), rather than as a model to be demonstrated by myself as tutor, and copied by adherents to a practice. We are all after the same thing though of course: nuanced and layered performance, seamless delivery which allows us to suspend disbelief, and to experience emotional truth from the performer in body, voice, music, or being.

The good news for much of what follows, is that as soon as I write it, it will almost certainly be out of date. Science continues to develop at as rapid a pace as it has since the enlightenment, and whether in biology, physics, or the quantum world; as our knowledge continues to grow, so too should our practices. The problem with this of course is that a combination of ego, the desire for methods as a saleable product (and more frequently now the desire to sell teacher certification programs), and the historic power structures at play within theatre which sets those at the top in Orwellian gate-keeper positions of power over “truth”, all serve to ensure that artistic methods rarely progress in line with the speed of development elsewhere; societally, technologically, philosophically, or otherwise. Let us not forget that it’s our industry which was the unfortunate catalyst for the #metoo movement after all.

Please note that I welcome change and challenge, so do feel free to message or comment if you think my ideas are wrong or can benefit from additional information! To quote a learned and since departed friend from Connemara “in 200 years we’ll all be dead and nobody will know we were here anyway”. Even if this writing remains in a book or otherwise, it will be of little value except to chart lineage, so far will practice and society have moved on by then anyway…

The necessity to train the performing artist to follow impulse is evident across every major methodology in the field. Whether it is defined as true, alive, organic, real, authentic, or by any other term, humans inherently know (or at least strongly suspect) where something is faked or constitutes a rehearsed response to a stimuli. To break down the most basic terms:

- “Impulses” are stimuli that we can respond to in space-time. They may be internal or external. In physics, impulse is the effect of a force acting over time, is expressed in Newton seconds, and is sometimes referred to as a “moving force”. An impulse is a force which has a limited life.

- “Action”, biologically speaking, constitutes voluntary bodily movement under control of the motor system. The brainstem contains most of the neural structures essential for rhythmic activities involving breathing, eating, eye movements, and facial expressions. In physics, action is a force applied to an object. For our purposes, it is the expression of the performer’s will to achieve their objectives, yet a consideration of the scientific is key to realising this fully i.e. that there is no action which does not respond directly to an impulse.

- “Momentum” is the measurement of mass in motion, is usually measured in kilograms per millisecond, and is sometimes referred to as a kind of 'moving inertia'. For the performer we may consider that momentum can equally denote the strength of the emotion and/or psychological response they have to an impulse, and which they seek to craft into a playable and believable action. Momentum has a definable weight over a definable period of time.

Newton’s impulse-momentum theorem states that the applied force of an impulse will be equal to the change in its momentum. Impulse-momentum shows us how a small net force applied over a long time can be used to produce the same velocity change as a large net force applied over a short time. This understanding is key for defining the weighting of response a performer may have to an impulse – what we read as false as an audience is when the momentum of the performer’s response is at odds with the weight of the impulse received. What we enjoy most as an audience, is seeing the performer’s skill in applying action as the vehicle to guide their momentum in response to the impulse they are receiving, and this can be as a bow stroke on a violin, a game played in service of fulfilling and objective by an actor, a specific vocal tone employed by a speaker or singer, or the curve of a limb by a physical performer.

The danger for all performers is a focus on playing or projecting an action as their primary function. Doing so stops them listening, and with that, robs them of their capacity to sense and respond to impulse.

The deepest and most basic functions of the brain in the cerebellum and basal ganglia are responsible for our immediate and unprocessed response to arousal from impulse; but they are chiefly responsible for the initial, non-cognitive reaction to this. It is therefore my conviction that the actor can find an immediate and perceptively more tangible connection to a flow of impulses if they allow themselves not to register their emotional state from one millisecond to the next. Key to finding this flow of action atop the momentum of movement or emotion which carries it, is the avoidance not only of recognition of emotion as already described, but of many cognitive thought processes: the act of thinking in and of itself will hinder the actor's capacity to achieve such a seamless flow of actions. As Paul Allain notes in his book Grotowski’s Empty Room “if the impulse has yet to become a reaction, rather than already been one, then the thought will insert itself into that fraction of time and destroy spontaneity ... Thought can insert itself not only into the passage from impulse to action, but also into the passage from inner motivation to impulse”. What we are seeking was defined by Grotowski in Towards a Poor Theatre as "freedom from the time-lapse between inner impulse and outer reaction in such a way that the impulse is already an outer reaction".

In order to achieve the realisation of impulse as an action in space, either vocally or physically and without a time delay, we must train the actor to increase their awareness and listening skills to envelope all impulses within a theatrical space. They must be attuned to the possibilities of identifying and crafting the "moving inertia" of impulse-momentum through specific action.

The actual training of the above is manifest in many hours of specific work, but can be explored within a two hour workshop, or a two year training and beyond. The work is physical, but can be adapted to suit the limits and abilities of anyone with whom I’ve worked so far. I term the identifiable skill I teach through this as Full Body Listening (FBL). This is because through the work, we combine the senses, and consider being able to act upon the awareness that we all know we have but cannot pinpoint or identify to a specific individual sense. For example, many of us will have been in a room where we could “cut the atmosphere with a knife”, or have been in situations where we know someone is behind us or we are being watched. Do any of the five senses we know of dictate our understanding of this? Rather, it is the body’s ability to respond to impulse in such moments which defines such awareness. Whilst we don’t necessarily hear these clues in space so much as feel them, a sense of listening with our whole bodies has so far seemed the best definition of this skill, and with it the capacity to be attuned to such possibilities in space.

FBL compromises the following parts:

- Creating connection and sensory awareness in the body which allows for maximum suppleness and strength of the individual.

- Awareness and connection to breath which allows the performer to move beyond their habitual patterns, and support the fullest range of emotion available to them.

- Finding the point where sight, sound, smell, taste, and touch meet; and deliver a perceptive awareness which allows for the fullest response to impulse possible.

- Negating the processing of stimuli and enabling the performer to carry out action as a seamless response to impulse, through the vehicle of emotional and/or physical momentum.

The necessity to train these areas beyond our lay conceptions is paramount and specific. First we must consider the auditory possibilities of listening with the ear alone. It is possible for us to hear sound yet remain intransigent to it, for example if we hear someone talking but do not 'hear' or understand what they say. Of course, anyone can choose to carry out an action based on an electronic impulse from the brain (a thought). This however does not mean that such an action is an accurate reflection of an impulse received by the performer. Additionally, the ear has strong connections with the actors’ nervous system. In the womb it is the first sensory organ to become operational, and from the fifth month of pregnancy the vestibular labyrinth (the oldest part of the ear) becomes the operating nervous system. At our earliest stages of development we are able to listen to sound before we can perceive it, let alone interpret it. FBL training therefore seeks to enable the performer to find this free submission to impulse: to embrace not knowing of defining, where they may have previously learnt by what they consciously interpret or perceive.

Secondly, our sight and focus. The time in which it takes the eye to scan, focus, recognise and process such information into conscious thought gives, within the world of impulse, the space to drive a proverbial bus through it. FBL can be practiced even without the use of eyesight: it is possible for the actor to be fully aware of their space and surroundings by being fully in tune with the plethora of impulses around them (hard to believe, but I’ve seen and experienced it so am happy to share). For many students this is the best place from which to start their training. However moving on from this, or where students are uncomfortable working with their eyes closed, the next step is to work with soft focus (as defined in the training of Alexander technique), and peripheral vision. Even within the term of "peripheral vision" the performer is encouraged to consider their peripheral vision encompassing a 360° field; this being intrinsic to the concentration needed to master FBL. This is because the time needed for image recognition can be as little as 24ms, whereas responding to impulse from peripheral vision can be as fast as .02ms: as such, the difference between responding to an impulse, or self-generating based on a memory of what the performer recognised in that moment is definable not only to the audience in terms of what they deem to be authentic, but viscerally in space-time, as a reflection of the time taken for cognitive processing.

Thirdly, we consider the immediacy of the actor's other senses and breath combined in service of FBL. The senses of smell, touch, and taste are of secondary importance in FBL training and are explored through the fullness of the physical training. Though we would not generally consider breath in and of itself a "sense", it is the function which underpins the ability to receive, translate, and respond to all impulses. Recent developments in the understanding of fascia in the body (a thin membrane which sits between our skin and muscles, but also permeates into them and around our organs), suggests that it may be a sensory organ itself. That we don’t breath, but rather out fascia breathes us… Might it be possible that we are all in fact training our fascia through a variety of bodywork methods?

Crafting action from impulse-momentum is a physical task requiring full use of the body in service of voice, movement, and emotion; yet can also be considered on an quantum level. The 'Double Slit' experiment, originating from the work of Thomas Young, has proved itself a conundrum for quantum physicists for decades. Whilst I am not suggesting that the actor needs to attune themselves to sub-atomic levels of understanding, the movement of photons in this experiment does provide a concrete point for the actor to observe in service of FBL. The experiment shows how photons fired singularly or en-masse behave routinely in the same fashion, unless observed at their moment of interaction with a foreign body; in case of the experiment this is a piece of card with two slits in it. However, following on from Schrödinger's equation (1926), Max Born showed through Born's Rule that the movement of electrons can be predicted.

The lesson for the performer in this is that reality itself will be altered when observed, and quantum physics continues to demonstrate this. Thus through a sustained training, performers are able to predict the range of possibility their human instrument possesses for interpretation of impulse by creation of action over momentum.

With this in mind, the performer can then trust fully in their ability to deliver a seamless realisation of received or generated impulse, knowing that if they pause to observe and/or deconstruct the process they will not only likely miss the impulse, but could fundamentally change the nature of it. Whilst this demonstrates that the actor can operate a command of FBL without eyesight, it also serves to show that the actor must not observe their internal workings, and must be open to the impulses in the space from everyone present, audience included. If the audience are an integral part of the performance, they cease to be observers measuring the outcome, but a living breathing part of the performance.

Essentially, the performer must be as the slit in the cardboard of the experiment: if they are open to receiving impulse, they are able to aid in its amplification as a wave to its target (in the performers’ case this being by an action experienced by the others in space, including the audience).

The need to dissect the specifics of the necessary pedagogical model needed to realise the training detailed above is paramount. Now, thankfully, incentives for “inclusive” practice are common place, but how can this actually be manifest in reality without straying into the sadly all too familiar territory of well-meaning practitioners or ego-ridden gurus using the veil of inclusive practice as a means to patronise and virtue-signal? The basics of why this happens lay in the fact that “anti-_____” models of education always deal with the holistic and/or systemic, yet routinely fail to recognise the power and responsibility of agency-based or individual change. It’s well and good saying “this is a safe space”, “I acknowledge my privilege”, or “I have an inclusive practice”; but unless this is followed through with continual action and evaluation, the reality remains that such sentences will continue to be virtue signalling hyperbole which serve about as much use in changing the world as any of the millions of Kony 2012 slacktivists did…

It should be noted that the necessity of debate here, and the lessons learnt from it, are vastly different in the UK as opposed to the USA, but then that case is true for almost anywhere on earth. Whether on definitions of politics (a UK liberal is a member of the Liberal Democrats - a centre/centre-right political party, where in the US it is a general term for anyone vaguely left of centre); the history of the debate (how power structures and privileges have developed and are manifest); the practicalities of fighting extremism in communities (largely peaceful mass demonstration in the UK, compared to small fringe groups being able to use guns to make a point in the US); the differences in where activism takes place (on the streets and in communities, or as intellectual exercises in universities and workplaces); all make a world of difference to the world of the individual coming into the room, and that is before we consider the realities at play in Russia, the UAE, China, or any other place I’ve worked or haven’t. The big problem facing our sector as adult educators in the arts is that so much of the narrative is driven by the US, and in doing so, is pushed into the narratives at play there, and thus advanced by their practitioners as readily as all other forms of US cultural imperialism. I see this manifest in the debates with colleagues in organisations and online, as well as some of the most active US practitioners in the field travelling globally to tell other people that they don’t understand the nature of their own oppression. The irony – I kid you not!

The fact is that the arts are political, whether they like it or not. But as individualism in society rises, so too must our capacity to recognise and honour the individual in development of their own artistic vision, alongside celebrating their uniqueness in a group learning environment. Without proper framing, to do so would bring clashes in a variety of ways, and some you may already be aware of. It is perhaps for exactly this reason that so many practitioners adopt the slogans without pushing through with the necessary work to make it a reality – to do so is exposing, and not without risk or discomfort. They key is perhaps, as with all education and certainly the creation of art, to accept that risk and discomfort are both healthy and useful in reaching where you want to be. It is perhaps the curse of the unbridled positivity of both elements of the US general outlook, or facets of the world of Instagram and other social media, that everyone has come to assume that change and progress should be easy and painless – the obvious point is that they won’t, but also that embracing this doesn’t mean that individuals can’t be safe or supported. There is a means for both to occur in a healthy and progressive environment.

Teachers, of great knowledge and none, can perhaps be divided into three different types:

1) The Dictator

2) The Guide

3) The Facilitator

The dictator is a dying breed, perhaps even alien to some of us. They are the teacher who thinks "Do what I say, when I say it, and not before. Only ask the right questions. If you don't get it then you must be stupid". Sometimes they will say these things as well. These are the school teachers of our past, and in some places, our present. I remember an English teacher at school once dictating to me "You'll never amount to anything. I'm a genius: I have a degree from University which certifies me as a genius". I thought that idiocy then, and low and behold - it was!

The good thing about Dictators however, is that their system inevitably leads to one outcome: Revolution. Sometimes the revolution is against their pedagogy or the system which supports it, sometimes against their knowledge, and occasionally against them personally. It is no walk in the park learning under a dictator, but unless you're crushed under their heel, then your drive in acquisition of impartial knowledge going forward is often greatly increased.

The Guide in mainstream education is a relatively new phenomena , though it's routes are perhaps the oldest of all methods of teaching. They take the student by the hand and lead (sometimes drag) them through their amassed knowledge, or the doctrine to which they subscribe. They think "Do what I say because I know this stuff and it will be good for you. There might be many ways of doing things, but my way is right/the best. If you don't get it then you're not ready to receive this wisdom". These teachers are everywhere, in many different forms. They think because they are leading the student, as a parent with a child, that they are nurturing them; though their love is not unconditional, and they can drop you in a heartbeat if they are not happy with your progression.

The usual indicator of someone being a Guide is that you often remember what they've said/the soundbites, but have little to no grasp of the knowledge unless you stuck with them to the end. They love having a "big reveal" at the end: this might be a secret key which unlocks the whole of your learning, it might be their approval or acceptance of you as an equal who is ready to lead others, or it may be a revealing of who they actually are "I was mean/nice/cryptic/specific/distant/close so that would would amass this wisdom the right way".

Often, you might have a minimal opinion of the personally, but you respect them for the knowledge they have and their desire to (sort of) share it.

Then we have the Facilitator, that's who many of us aspire to be or think we are already. They think "Do and say what you want, I have my own ideas but they might be wrong... I want to do this with you today, but again my ideas might be wrong... I'm not going to judge you based on your ability to embody or regurgitate the knowledge I've shared". It's a big ask to be a facilitator, and there's precious few of them around. People really have to pull some deep personal and professional work to be taught by a dictator and become a facilitator, because subconsciously they're always battling against the repression they were taught under. The danger is that they can end up in Permanent Revolution; and whilst established power structures are eradicated, progression is largely down to chance rather than established pedagogy.

There is a middle ground for the Facilitator of course; one in which they can be strong enough to lead in a space where they know they might not be right, or in which they are confident that the student will find their own way if supported - that they will learn to walk on their own.

Are you thinking "Hang on, you've written three paragraphs and haven't mentioned Guruism once..."? Don't worry, we're on track!

Guruism in teaching comes from two distinct strands:

1) Knowledge/Tradition

2) Self-assurance/ego

To address the first, this post is not an attack on traditions or our learning from them. Our cultural makeups are built on tradition. However, guruists (I make the definition of "guruist/ism" as I am addressing something specific in pedagogic terms, not attacking Gurus of particular faiths/ideologies - this is much more about people who think they're gurus than those who actually are), so reliant on the esoteric idea that there are universal truths only to be revealed by hidden knowledge, forget that traditions EVOLVE. Traditions keep that which is pleasurable or helpful (for whom is another matter), and replace or renege those which are not.

The second is obvious - to believe that your wisdom is absolute and that you have all the answers, then you've got to be a fountain of knowledge; or at least believe you are. The reality often of course is that this air of "master", the idea you are the keeper of hidden knowledge to impart to the faithful is often covering MASSIVE personal insecurities, and this is painfully obvious to the students, regardless of how much the teacher thinks they're hiding it.

Fundamentally, it is the Guide who is most guilty of guruism in the teaching world. They are actually the direct result of, and are extremely close to the Dictator; it's just that their methods have varied. The Dictators love Guides, because although they might seem a bit liberal, they nonetheless continue to cement knowledge and snub evolution, moreover revolution. The tragically hilarious thing is that Guides often believe they are actually Facilitators, and even publicly profess to be so.

The main point to all this is not that guruists annoy me personally, it is that they are actively DANGEROUS. The voice world is awash with them, chiefly because there are so many (and growing) numbers of "established" practices/methods, all with their own doctrine, all with their own brand of esoteric nonsense supposedly backing it up. Don't get me wrong, these are to greater and lesser degrees, and some practices are evolving; but if the political and philosophical thinking underpinning them are only capable of bending but not changing, then it's all just still just hyperbole. Let me give you some examples of what I've heard, seen and witnessed. I won't give names but will separate different methods by numbers...

Top Tip 1: Spending 10 minutes fawning about how amazing old master X was (don't get me wrong, I'm sure they were lovely: a good teacher, and a knowledgeable person), does little or nothing to support your teaching or our learning, especially if you make an extended point about how lucky the few of you who knew them personally to be affected by their teaching were. Principally it makes your student feel a) There is a master whose could do no wrong and whose level of understanding we can never attain b) That hero worship is helpful or necessary in order to engage with this work c) Not to question any of this because it came from a lovely old person who was your friend who has since died (i.e. so how could we be so heartless as to say/ask that?).

Top Tip(s) 2: When being an authority on where the jaw should "naturally" sit, try checking your student physiologically and cross referencing your understanding with a dentist before acting like your knowledge is gospel. When giving out instructions for massage techniques from other disciplines, check they're not only for skilled professionals as they include a risk of inducing miscarriage. Don't tell young women who you are training "You're only speaking like that because you think you're sexually attractive to men, but you're not, men don't find that attractive" - I mean, what the hell do you know, and how is that even within your remit? Don't publicly infer that laughter and/or fatigue at your pedagogy or method is a mark against the student's commitment to engaging with your work.

Top Tip 3: Don't define what language your student uses to define their experience. You stray back into the land of the Dictator, and serve no one but your own ego. "This is the level of language we're using at this level" is not an acceptable reasoning, it just makes you an oppressor, despite your guruistic veneer.

Top Tip 4: Never laugh off a student's experience because it doesn't conform to your methodology or world view. "Hahaha, don't be silly" would likely result in physical violence in some other settings, so don't believe it's ok to get away with it in a classroom because it’s far less likely for this to happen.

Top Tip 5: If you genuinely think a client or student is "unteachable" or "not worth bothering with" maybe question why you took them on? If you can't teach them something, is it their problem or yours?

All the above come from certified "Master" teachers in their different methods teaching in top institutions in the UK, and USA. And the reason all the above happened (the thinnest edge of a very large wedge)? Guruism. The belief that you know best and your method has the ultimate answers. Guess what? It doesn't.

Ultimately the sun is going to supernova and gobble up our little planet. Eventually gravity will crush everything in the universe into dust. Nothing is forever. If you believe in everything making sense in the end/an afterlife/the big reveal/esoterics/hidden knowledge, then all the more reason you should stop trying to be a Guru, let it all go, and share your knowledge freely; whilst seeking to expand the knowledge you have currently amassed. Just think: although it works for you, everything you say and how you say it might be (but probably just is) only worth the value you personally have attached to it.

As a practitioner, educator, or facilitator (if you are in Russia or other parts of the world you may even call yourself a “Master”), there is a central truth which is often overlooked: without students, you would be nothing but a desperate person screaming into the void, or muttering to yourself in the corner. To create a progressive model, you must be able to humble yourself. Consider the fact that, whether students pay fees or not, unless you run your own space and invite/support participants at your own expense, then you are being engaged for your services by the students. You OWE THEM: not the other way around. That students have accepted for so long that they are beholden to you for your knowledge is fraught with many complexities of how art education has developed and advanced. It should obviously be noted however, that they are there because you have knowledge you are willing to impart, and in the advancement of their progress: but you are paid to do so. You are, in essence, the same as any other contractor whether self-employed or working for a company, offering services to a client.

Imagine that you invite a builder to a house to do some work you can’t do yourself (if it helps, imagine they’ll show you some basic DIY skills as part of the package). Ideally, you agree a fee in advance. You both have a clear understanding of the work to be undertaken, what the finished work will look like, and how long it will take. You acknowledge problems which may arise in the course of the work and the variables which might be needed to address them – additional workers, materials, specialists, etc. You then invite them into the house and let the process begin. Throughout this time you appreciate and acknowledge that the builder likely dresses, talks, acts, and works in different ways to you (these may not be radical differences, but you wouldn’t have engaged them if you could do the work yourself). You accept that in the course of their duties, they might make the place a bit dirty, they might annoy you with noise, they might need to use a parking space or your favourite mug. It’s not your within your luxury to leave the house for the months of necessary work, but the good news is that they are only there for part of the day. You agree some base rules from the outset about how they function in the house, what they can and can’t use, and you likely agree work times and how to ask for further permissions. As the time goes on and the work progresses, you likely grow to like them, loathe them, or remain indifferent. Yet from the outset, you are clear on your own boundaries and expect some level of understanding and respect as to the societal ones you’re both aware of. You have your red lines – likely related to the quality of the work being delivered, the time it takes, and the personal conduct of the builder. It could be the case that you grow to loathe them, but see that the work produced is of good quality and decide to bear with it for the sake of the finished product. It may be the opposite. The base reality is however, that if your red lines are crossed – disrespecting you, the house, possibly your neighbours or your pets; then there will be consequences. Maybe you’ll engage another builder, maybe you’ll give a final warning, maybe you’ll negotiate the pricing or a payment if they broke something or didn’t deliver what was agreed. In all cases, you would be clear and confident of who you are and what is going on, and in the unfortunate possibility that you lost sight of your ability to do that yourself, you’d know to engage a friend, neighbour, family member, community representative or police officer to help you. You’d know your rights and how they should be manifest.

This likely sounds like a fair and reasonable setup for a whole host of tradespeople you might engage. Yet when we apply this logic to education, with the educator as the builder, the analogy seems to fall apart. This is for a variety of reasons. Firstly, the educator may be in complete denial that they are the builder – they possibly believe they are the landlord, a building inspector, a member of the local council, the Mayor, head of state, or even a living God. Sure, they maybe have some building skills, but they see themselves as something way above a skilled worker engaged to perform a service. Why? Many reasons. Answer? If you want to hold onto delusions of grandeur, get in the sea!

Secondly, students routinely and voluntarily abandon all knowledge of their boundaries, red-lines, and ability to challenge behaviour or workmanship they are unhappy with, including possible lines of support, when they step into an education setting. Even though we are not stepping into their house, the fact remains that they usually pay both the rent of the space we work in, and our salaries; yet still they abandon rights which would be present elsewhere in their lives. Why? Many reasons both historic, and at large in the present moment. Answer? Educators can address this actively at the start of a learning journey, ensuring students are safe and supported throughout it.

Many an educator reading this may consider the builder analogy in the previous section to be defunct, as we do not work in a student’s house, nor is the workspace the student’s because they do not pay for it directly. This boils down to the conceptual realities of the differences between claimed/created, invited, or closed spaces in which people work. Closed spaces are those of the school classroom and to an extent the conventional studio of some drama schools or universities, where decisions are made by staff outside the space with little concern as to the inclusion of students in decision-making. Invited spaces are those which many teachers aspire to deliver as they are close to many theatrical settings: an audience is welcomed to the space and invited to participate, however they are expected to be aware of (or are made explicitly aware of) the rules and boundaries of acceptable behaviours and discourse within such a space. Claimed or created spaces are claimed by the less powerful (often against the powerful), as the result of social or political movements.

In practice, all of these spaces have benefits and burdens inherent to them. For us as educators, it is important to note that the nature of a single space can be changed through the course of working in it for the necessity of individuals, groups, or fulfilling specific learning objectives. The reality is that the building analogy also falls apart because we seldom work in the student’s invited space. More often we, through a small act of deception, invite students into our space or, as was the case historically and still often happens, force them into a closed space in the hopes that obeying rules will lead to the fullest and fastest progress. Unfortunately, even if we have the warmest personalities, or the sincerest of intentions; it remains a fact that though we may invite someone into our space (personal or professional), that a whole host of reasons may make them uncomfortable or unable to engage in the lovely things you’ve arranged. It might be that the colour scheme you’ve picked makes them nauseous, they could be allergic to your cat, they could be uncomfortable with the company you keep, or they simply might not like you very much. At such times, for inexperienced educators or those who hope their warmth will carry through their ambitions of inclusivity, the realisation that the truth of individual experience can run counter to their intentions has the capacity to be quite brutal. It can also be the case that students who have been conditioned to accept, and survive or thrive in a closed space through their formative education simply don’t have the time or headspace within a degree programme to engage in your well-meaning socio-political aspirations to create equitable spaces and training – the very fact you’re doing so may actually hinder their own progress! Answer? Always recognise the individual and their needs.

Broadly speaking, we can say that closed or invited spaces are especially useful for the tuition or skills based learning in a group environment. Establishing invited spaces can be beneficial for 1-1 tutorials because you have greater autonomy in tailoring the space to the needs of the individual student. Creativity though, as I’m sure you can imagine, is best served in by a claimed or created space. It is entirely possible for you to help re-define the space you work in as readily as you may for use in theatre – it simply takes the imagination to conceptualise, and use of clear objective and action to realise, but with an acceptance that you yourself may be an obstacle to this, or your learning outcomes, being achieved.

What constitutes a safe space? I usually frame this by working with Equity UK’s statement:

“Every single one of us working on this project is entitled to work in a safe space: a space free of fear, a space free of bullying & harassment of any kind. We will work together honouring our differences & celebrating the gifts we each bring to the table. We will treat one another with politeness & respect at all times &, if we are subjected to or witness bullying & harassment, we will speak out knowing that our voices will be heard & we will be taken seriously. Together we can create a safe space”.

Reading this statement out is not enough: we must dissect it line by line, to ensure participants in the learning environment understand the history and thus necessity of every line. Bullying, harassment, and fear are not only abhorrent things to experience, but have all been central tenets of vast swathes of artist training for decades. We birthed the #MeToo movement after all. It’s not enough that we as leaders in a space dictate that it is now “safe”; we must also imbue the necessity for this to be fought for and defended by all participants in it. How to celebrate and honour each other is covered in part by the free speech section which follows, but you can also talk about the somatic norms of the area you’re in, privilege, or any other power structures with are obvious or hidden, and which not all participants may be aware of. How do we treat each other with politeness and respect? Discuss and/or dictate this as necessary, and consider your own biases in this. Empower individuals to speak out – be specific about how you can facilitate this: in the teaching moment, before/after class, through class reps or with support, anonymously to course leadership, by e-mail, to student services; but also the functions of how they’ll be heard, responses recorded, and actions made/acted upon. At what point should they speak out? Where is discomfort appropriate in training? Is pain ever appropriate? Consider all aspects of pain thresholds and hyper-sensitivity in individuals: nobody should be the arbiter of an acceptable pain level for someone else, perhaps especially a student, be that physical, psychological, or emotional.

I can well imagine some reading this terrified of being ousted for minor acts if such powers are given to students, but all I can do is to seek to assure you as a practitioner who has put my foot in it plenty – students will appreciate your openness, honesty, and humility and repay it in kind. Be open, humble, and honest about your own idiosyncrasies: do you have odd mannerisms? A peculiar sense of humour? Are you neuro-diverse or have other hidden disabilities? Perhaps you could share your diversity/EDI statement if you have one. Your openness and willingness to move things on from the status quo will undoubtedly help inspire those whom you are about to work with, and ensure you are all working in a richer, safer, and better supported environment! Together you can build a safe space, but this must be a joint venture. It is incumbent upon you all and the battles gone before, for you to honour why such statement has not only been created, but is an inherent and necessary part of any modern and inclusive pedagogy.

Do recognise however, in practice, some individuals will be so conditioned by their formative education and their survival through it, that they may resent you seeking to tear down the somatic norm or trying to teach them in anything other than a closed space. Some students may simply operate better in such environments due to their learning preferences and psychological profile. Thus the above, as with everything, should always take account of the individual and their response. A modern pedagogy is one which by necessity evolves with the work undertaken, the participants involved, and the setting in which it takes place. If it doesn’t, you’ll slip into the realms of becoming a guru or a despot, and nobody will be served by your good will or progressive ideas.

Once you’ve been suitably humbled as a practitioner or educator, and accepted your place as someone serving your students, you can also enjoy and grow through the learning process as well. Free speech is perhaps a central tenet to educating the individual and to developing artistry, as well as ensuring your own voice and experience are heard as an educator. The problem becomes how to celebrate the uniqueness of individual thought and artistry, without conditioning cohorts or individuals in a group learning environment into submitting to generic thoughts and opinions of the collective. How do we address “not only the offensive, but the irritating, the contentious, the eccentric, the heretical, the unwelcome and the provocative” (the current legal rulings related to free speech in the UK) knowing that “everyone has the right to freedom of expression” as long as we do not incite hatred, or encourage terrorist activity?

Do we self-police as we do day-to-day as social beings, gauging what it is acceptable to talk about based on group dynamics and what is acceptable within society; or is there a way to allow the individual to speak to what they are passionate about in a structured safe space, knowing that as we as individuals have the right to be offended, that they too also have the right to speak?

I suggest facilitating discussion with participants which asks each of them to speak about something which they are passionate about, and ensure that other participants cannot respond or reply. After everyone has spoken, ask people to raise their hand if they had a problem with any of the content discussed. In my experience, it is unlikely that nobody will raise their hand (including myself). If no objections are raised, it may be the sign of an echo chamber created by the intake of students you are teaching, or that “acceptable” ideas and beliefs have already been homogenised within the group. To move forward, consider what can facilitate the following possibilities, in order to let each individual speak their own truth in space, and thus explore their own artistry:

- Acknowledge that through the course of working together, people may hear things which trigger them. This is ok, and as you have the right to be offended/annoyed etc, so too does the other person have a right to speak to things which they are passionate about. Can we trust as a group that we can create and maintain a space that is safe to explore things in, even if not everyone agrees with them?

- Nothing said will be targeted at an individual, and nothing explored by an individual will be an attempt to convince others of their views, outside the remit of specific exercises.

- As the tutor, you will have oversight for you and your classmate's safety, but will seek not to be draconian or unwieldy in your use of this. Essentially, if something being said is unduly inflammatory and/or targeting an individual by proxy, you may steer an individual towards other areas of their exploration.

- As an individual, participants may wish to make others aware of topics and issues which may trigger them. As such, people will be able to give notice if they expect they want to speak about something which might influence this. An individual always has the right not to listen, or to step out when something is knowingly or unexpectedly uncomfortable. It should be noted that a recent series of studies suggests that trigger or content warnings may actually make things worse rather than better.

- We will seek to be gracious in recognising that where people speak on subjects they are passionate about, they may offend us. We acknowledge that if this happens, our right to be offended does not supersede their right to explore speech, text, ideas etc.

- We acknowledge that this is a safe space where no content matter will fester, be debated at length, or grow into wider conversations or conflict. We will respect the listeners’ right not to engage, as well as the speaker’s right to not be hassled/heckled for views or ideas they are exploring through speech.

- We will all be mindful of the institutions rules and the local/national laws and customs in our interactions with each other.

Alternatively, participants can continue as is and abide by the unwritten rules which govern our daily interactions. Personally, I think it would be interesting to give space to explore things which perhaps not everyone agrees with, particularly in units on political speech, etc - but to do so requires a distinct commitment from the whole group to abide by this, and should not be undertaken lightly. If someone doesn't feel confident in this, then that should be acknowledged by the group and reflected upon sincerely.

It is very important to say that this is just health and safety - the aim of skills work is not to be offensive, and nothing discussed in this setup may come to pass as needing attention. But as you can see from the initial discussion, what may seem innocuous or frivolous to some, may be received quite differently by others.