When I was fifteen, people often thought I was nearer to ten. I found this embarrassing. At 18, I was almost always asked for ID to gain entry to a pub or club. My friends would sail in, leaving me scrabbling in my purse for something that proved I was old enough. When I reached my twenties, teachers in the schools I visited would often mistake me for a pupil. So did the pupils I was teaching there, which is counter-productive when you are the person in charge. I can even remember being re-directed to the pupils entrance at one school (until I explained to the teacher that I was actually a visiting dance teacher). The point was, people tended not to take me seriously because they thought I was too young, which was irritating. As I have got older, this annoyance at being mistaken for someone younger has been replaced by delight. I am likely to thank someone for thinking I am younger than I am, which is kind of ironic. I am not sure when exactly this reversal happened but it is a little disconcerting. Why is it that being thought of as younger feels like a compliment? In many ways, it makes my age even more significant.
In society, there is a massive pressure and slant toward being young. Many of us are obsessed with staving off the signs of age. I have spent countless pounds on lotions and potions to beautify my skin and wince at the changes that I see when I look in the mirror. Is this more of a female thing I wonder? I would like that the signs of ‘getting older’ didn’t matter to me, but truthfully, it does. This interest I have always reminds me of my mother, whose signature was her youthful look. Indeed, the last time I saw my mum alive was in a hospital in West London. At this point, she had terminal cancer, was in constant physical pain and had just found out that she had days to live. Yet when I saw her, what she was seemingly concerned about was that she had no anti-ageing cream left. I remember being sent on a mission to purchase her favourite bottle of L’Oreal Age defying cream. Looking back on this, it was a little crazy. I wonder now if this act was one of kindness to a daughter? It created a moment of normality between us. I got to do something useful. I suppose combating wrinkles is an easier challenge to face than death.
So going to see On the One Hand, a show that investigates and celebrates women and age, was a cathartic experience for me. What really struck me was how sensitively the production greets this subject. This whole production was beautifully constructed, with warm characters, who were defined and named by their age – teen, twenty, thirty, forty, fifty, sixty and Elderly. In this show,the Paper Birds looked at women across the decades. Some of the universal issues that face us at any age, and those that are specific to certain ages. They created a wonderful sense of sisterhood, so that the women were ultimately united rather than divided by their ages and issues. The show defines the characters by their decade, and the passing of time by writing the number of minutes left until the show ended. This worked well as a structure. The direction was sensitive and inventive. There were moments that deeply moved me and others where I wanted to applaude because well, I could just relate. Like when the character Sixty says:
“The world seems to be getting younger around me. Inside I am still the same person, but then I look in the mirror and …. oh fuck it.”
I could almost hear the audience nodding in agreement. I liked that the images created through movement were effective at physicalising those things we feel that cannot be expressed well in words. Three women crawling in unison with chairs on their backs while the character Elderley talks about not being allowed to write with her left hand at school. The clicking and clapping used to represent the searching for information and forgetfulness of someone who is losing their memory. My favourite symbolism was when the characters sat in succession in a bath suspended from above, one by one being washed by the other characters. This conjured a real sense of vulnerability and the characters showed compassion in their care of one another.The set was excellent and was also woven into the story well.I sort of felt that the characters climbing and overcoming the challenges of the set symbolised the up, down, back and forth surprising process of living.
The material for the show was gathered ‘verbatim’ from people that the Paperbirds had interviewed in earlier development projects Aged and An Age. This added depth and authenticity to the work. I like that it also means that the work involved more than just the artistic team and the audience. In the programme, further insight is added with an interesting article about the scientific research of Tom Kirkwood from Newcastle Initiative on Changing Age. His research suggests that four in five 85 year olds describe themselves as happy and are capable of taking care of their own basic living needs. This counters perceptions we can have of elderly people being feeble or helpless and perhaps, an indication that ageing does not have to be feared. On the One Hand was thought-provoking and caused me to think deeply about age. What sticks is the message that people cannot be accurately summed up by their age, status, or other ‘tick-box’ features. In defining people this way, we miss the complex and diverse stories of who they are. We miss their value, their individuality and humanity.
If you get a chance to see this then go. You will not be disappointed. I saw this at West Yorkshire Playhouse. I did not have a chance to experience it but there was also an accompanying installation called On the Other Hand.
You can see this in Newcastle at Live Theatre on 4th-6th December 2013. Click here for tickets.
What are your thoughts about ageing? Do you embrace it, dread it or somewhere in between? Share your view by commenting below: