Northern Big Board, Shipley Pool

Sally Rodgers (@sally_sound) has a great time at Northern Big Board Gala, Shipley Pool, last Sunday …

From the world premier of Emma Adam’s new, site-specific play exploring the leaps of faith that make life interesting, to Hannah Nicklin’s art works that reveal themselves like foil wrapped sweeties in a life-sized, locker-shaped advent calendar, the Shipley Pool, Northern Big Board Gala, delivered a surprising emotional splash.

On arrival we were presented with a complimentary bottle of water (‘it’s very hot up there’ someone said); an ‘I *heart* Shipley Pool’ button badge, and an impressive looking lanyard bearing the usual warnings about the use of mobile phones etc… during the play. But a further caution that there should be ‘Absolutely no human sacrifice without prior arrangement’ told us we were in for something a little bit out of the ordinary. Not that the building that houses Shipley Pool is anything but ordinary. This is no jewel of Victorian architecture. Built in 1974 it is, in fact, a slightly shabby looking metal-clad box of a place. Yet its condensation clouded windows piled high with colourful floats hinted at the splashy-splashy sort of fun that goes on here and this event was conceived to emphasize, in the face of government cuts, the contribution it makes to the happiness and well-being of its local community.

Upstairs invigilators from Slung Low productions popped mp3 players around our necks and gave each of us a pair of headphones and when the sell-out crowd had settled, two life-guards at poolside below motioned for us to put on our headphones and the play began. Our host, ‘Phos’ (Tom Gordon-Gill), the spirit of Shipley Pool, welcomed us to the Annual General Meeting of water demons and heralded the arrival of Cito (Nicki Goldie), the punky spirit of Ilkley Lido, Caspar (Joe Bone), the buttoned-up demon of Manchester’s Aquatic Centre, and Fred Pearson’s Lord Grindilow, the presiding God of Malham Tarn. At 25,000 years old Grindilow is the play’s voice of authority and had hoped to preside over the AGM’s customary ‘human sacrifice, disco and barbecue’ with little fuss. But exposed, day in and day out, to the human stories that fill his pool, Phos has experienced a change of heart.

From the start, we, the audience, are established as demons too: ‘puddle-sprats’ appearing in human form – and Phos exhorts us to give up our unseemly habit for sacrificing humans. Putting it to the vote, he asks us all to consider the works a group of artists have produced about the people who use the pool. Like little demons who really want to be good sprites, we all raise our hands enthusiastically. The lights go down and as a watery narrative begins in our headsets, diving silhouettes are projected onto the walls. It was a little too early and the afternoon light obscured the images but we caught the artists’ messages via the audio. The transformative power of the pool can turn a person ‘from a wet lettuce into Johnny Weissmuller’ (that’s the Olympic medal winning swimmer who went on to play Tarzan in a dozen Hollywood films, in case you didn’t know). But the cast of demons that encircled us remained unconvinced. Here Emma Adams’ pithy, modern dialogue conjured a convincing world of red tape and petty bureaucracy. As Phos pleads with them to recognize the good in humans, Caspar consults ‘The Laws of the Water Gods’, advising Grindilow to remember his ‘media training’ and to make ‘no comment’. The more bloodthirsty Cito has simpler objections. ‘Where is the fun in living if we can’t eat human fear’ she shrugs. The ‘Human Joy’ Phos extols always comes at a price they tell us. Humans are basically selfish, ‘Give them a droplet and they’ll take an ocean’.

In his attempts to prove them wrong, Phos enters into a wager with Grindilow and at the toot of his whistle, an army of capped and goggled swimmers parade out and dive in. At this point the children of Bradford’s Esprit provide a brief but dazzling, diving display from the pool’s spring and 5 meter high boards. It’s a visual and aural spectacle: a moment of ‘human joy’ that, somewhat unexpectedly, brought a tear to my eye. Heather Fenoughty’s stirring score, played-back directly into my headphones, undoubtedly contributed to its emotional tug, and it has to be said, the dislocation of sound and live-action this technically complex production undertook was a revelation. With sound reflecting off unmanageable, watery surfaces maybe ordinary theatrical practice wasn’t an option. Or maybe Chol Theatre, Slung Low and Adams were trying to extend its conventional vocabulary and get us involved in the performance in new and exciting ways. I suspect the latter and it worked. I had my partner’s boy Matthew (aged twelve) with me and he loved every minute. A budding sports journalist he took his notebook into which he wrote things like, ‘involves audience’ and ‘sunny and modern’. Indeed Adams’ play was full of modish mots like Ceto’s love of ‘Dolphin-Core’ and Phos’ Obama-like ‘Vote for Change!’ speech.

The rest of the play had a little of Powell and Pressburger’s A Matter of Life and Death about it. A cast of characters are called up to bear witness to Phos’ assertion that humans ‘add more’ to society ‘than they take’ and Grindilow stops time itself, to hear their testimony. From a stroke victim who was once a foster carer, to a struggling single father for whom the pool provides a cheap, fun way to make his motherless daughter smile again, the stories unfolded.
Although this is a special, celebratory commission, constructed firmly around Shipley Pool itself, its staff and ‘all who swim in her’, I’m reluctant to furnish a spoiler as I can imagine this play being adapted to other great swimming emporia up and down the country. Needless to say after much ado, Adams wraps it all up nicely and excellent performances from the cast elicit tears and smiles from us all.

Adams’ play and Hannah Nicklin’s subtle sound recordings make a convincing case for the contribution our local swimming baths make to the lives of all kinds of people. Nicklin has spent several weeks at the pool collecting stories and taking photographs, and downstairs in the ‘changing village’, you can listen to these stories and see pictures of the characters behind them. Although there are other art-works hidden around the building, these audio narratives are the most affecting. With titles like ‘In the Water I look Normal’ they tell simple stories about what the pool means to the individuals who use it. And in the end, that is what this gala performance was all about: how a swimming baths actually improves the quality of local people’s lives. Fingers crossed other swimming pools will get to stage it and as we leave, I wonder if Adam’s, Slung Low and Chol Theatre have considered creating something similar about a much-loved local library. I for one hope this ‘log-flume of emotion’ has legs, or should that be flippers (sorry)