Morna

Young

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Welcome to my blog

 

Scottish playwright, actress and musician... writing about writing.

By mornayoung, Apr 20 2016 05:21PM

I have been in Ólafsfjörður for only one week and, yet, it feels much, much longer. A persistent feeling of deep time, all that has come before and all that will be, is suffocating. Here, in this abstract landscape, I am in a constant state of dreamlike thought. Time has become a surreal concept.

I have been trying to find a way to describe this feeling and, yet, words – my usual currency – seem decidedly insignificant. A few years ago, I came across the Japanese word “yugen” pertaining to 'a profound awareness of the universe which evokes feelings that are inexplicably deep and too mysterious for words'. I believe this means a state of awareness although I cannot say for certain. The word feels bigger than my knowledge but, all the same, it pops into my head whenever I consider the insignificance of man next to nature. This is precisely what I feel here in Ólafsfjörður.

A blizzard has hit. Snow falls and snow falls again and again. On arrival, the sun shining deceivingly, I could see the surrounding mountains dominating every view. Now, they are hidden in the whiteout. For some unidentifiable reason, this makes me uneasy. They are hidden in plain sight.

Ólafsfjörður – a small town in the northeast of Iceland - is both familiar and unfamiliar. The pungent stench of fish, the harbour, the boats – they are part of my habitual history. But their familiarity is tainted by an intangible difference. It is my world through an alien lens.

We are inside a valley, connected to the outside world by two mountain road tunnels, one on either side of the village, great long passageways that seem never ending. Another word that I cannot fully comprehend – claustrophobia – seems appropriate. Inside these tunnels, my skin crawls and there’s a pounding weight inside my head. It is a feeling of being trapped.

I feel a similar pressure inside the village. I usually spend great amounts of time on the road; travelling, searching, asking questions. I have a strange obsession with ‘freedom’. If I stay in the same place for too long then cabin fever forcibly kicks in. Indeed, when the blizzard came, I found myself pacing back and forth, fighting some irrational fear of being confined. The imagination flies.

There is, of course, another escape route aside from the tunnels: the sea. Ólafsfjörður’s harbour and fleet of boats is precisely the reason why I am here. I am working with Sound Artist, Kate Carr, on a collaborative project for the stage. As yet, we don’t know what this will be but our key research centres around fishing culture, memory and musicality. We’re gathering film, photographs and stories with the eventual aim to create a fully immersive performance.

So far, we’ve been working with a community choir to record Icelandic and Scots fishing songs. Kate has been experimenting with rebroadcasting these and I’ve been on the research trail including joining an Icelandic fishing crew and heading out to sea. Much of my study has touched upon the mythology and folklore of Iceland but I am, as yet, only scratching the surface of one area in this magnificent country. I have no idea what I’m searching for but I have a million questions and a growing intrigue. I can sense a gathering force in my dreamlike state.

We’re building the foundations of a story that we cannot yet describe but there are floods of ideas and themes and potential. It is the stage of creative development that I love the most; where anything and everything seems possible. I am especially excited to see how text/performance can be woven with Kate’s incredible soundscapes and how these forms can influence each other.

And, so, with a lack of words, it seems ever more fitting that this project will focus on storytelling through sound. Perhaps my senses are heightened through working with Kate because I find myself listening acutely to everything. The dull silence of snow is deafening. The feelings of abstract time, sense of myth, wonder of nature, the extraordinary in the ordinary and insignificant words. Themes of isolation, loss, memory, being on the outside… I can hear it in the sound. This clip shows a small sample of what we're exploring. Happy listening and imagining.


Morna x


N.B Our residency in Iceland has been kindly supported by both Arts Council Australia and Creative Scotland.



By mornayoung, Mar 27 2016 05:28PM

The Spring 2016 tour of Netting is well underway and I'm absolutely delighted by the audience reactions we've had so far - THANK YOU. I'm currently blogging / vlogging along with the rest of the cast and crew over at www.nettingtheplay.com - do stop by and say hello. Otherwise, I'll be back post tour with more news about upcoming adventures including my next project working in Iceland with the fantastic Sound Artist, Kate Carr.


Morna x

By mornayoung, Feb 21 2016 05:09PM

It’s been a while since I’ve written a personal blog on here. The note BLOG has sat at the bottom of my to do list for far too long. There’s never enough time or something more urgent barges its way to the forefront. Blogging takes a back seat because it’s never the most pressing or vital task.

So, why the busyness? Like most artists, I find myself constantly in a state of juggling one too many projects. It’s a curious life when you never quite know which one will receive funding or backing. Thus, we plough on with the motivation that something will shift for the creative work to begin. That's the incentive which makes the many hours of admin worthwhile. Juggle and hope for the best… head down to buy some precious time in the rehearsal room or space for uninterrupted writing.

2016 has been a pretty great year so far. After many months of seriously hard work spent buried beneath a mountain of paperwork, I’ve emerged with some creative projects that are now ready to go. The long days and nights of emails and phone calls and applications have, eventually, paid off. For this, I am entirely thankful.

One of my goals for this year is to improve my scheduling and time-lining. After many years of working as an actor, I still find it tough to visualize what I’ll be doing next month – let alone in a year or two. Over Christmas, a friend recommended I invest in something called a Passion Planner. It’s not quite as saucy as it sounds. Essentially, it’s a swanky diary providing the tools for short and long term goal setting. It’s designed to incorporate reflection, planning and action and has become my right arm. Daily goal? Check. Monthly goal? Check. Lifetime goal? Well, I’m still working on that one.

My love affair with stationery has also reached a new level of commitment (obsession?) with investing in a huge cork pin-board and a white-board. The cork board details projects over a three year period and the white board focuses urgent priorities. All very organised, all very geeky. But, it’s changed the way that I work entirely and, for the first time, I’m beginning to see projects as a continued investment rather than simply asking: “what’s next?”

So, armed with my Passion Planner, cork board and white board (seriously, I can’t believe I’m confessing my sad organisation addiction…) I’ve navigated my way through January and into February in a fairly structured way. At the end of each month, the Passion Planner asks you to fill in a monthly reflection and suggests looking back and colour coding how time has been spent. I wasn’t particularly surprised to see that most of the month was blue - representing admin. Pink, my ‘creative’ colour, rarely featured at all. I’m always aware that admin takes a lot of time but I was pretty shocked to realise that creativity had taken such a back seat. Fortunately, that will all change over the coming months. I suppose that’s the upside of the crazy admin; it lays the foundations for the creative work.

So, what’s ahead? Well, Lost at Sea is still my ultimate focus with a 2017 tour with Eden Court on the cards. It’s the play that changed my life and it’s the one that means the world to me. I realised recently, though, that during the past few years of working towards this goal, I had forgotten about the journey. Everything else I was doing paled in comparison. Every life choice was put on hold with the conclusion: “I’ll think about that after Lost at Sea. I’ll decide where I want to live and who I want to be after Lost at Sea. I’ll take a break after Lost at Sea.”

I was so determined to reach the end point that I forgot that weeks, months, years were passing. It’s not that I didn’t appreciate that time, I just forgot that it’s important to think about the present as much as the future. Hemingway said: 'It is good to have an end to journey toward; but it is the journey that matters, in the end.' I didn’t understand that fully until now. I wasn’t letting myself celebrate the successes or take time out to reflect because I hadn’t reached the end point. It seems obvious to say but it’s taken me a long time to realise that there isn’t actually an end. There is no one big happily ever after. There are only moments and pauses and I’m finally learning to value these. Lost at Sea can remain my biggest ambition but that shouldn’t prevent me living – and dare I say enjoying? – life between. I’ve finally grasped that it’s not about deciding who you want to be; it’s about being who you are.

Armed with this newfound knowledge, I’ve enjoyed 2016 so far a lot more than previous years. It’s been busy and challenging but, equally, enlightening. I’ve stopped beating myself up as much. I’m not stressing as much about things that I have no control over. I’m finally dealing with the anxiety that’s stalled me for years. I don’t know if I can keep all of these up but I seriously hope so. Life’s just a little bit easier when you stop being mean to yourself.

Over to work. At the end of 2015, we received funding to tour Netting as a co-production between myself, director Allie Butler and Woodend Barn, Banchory. Over the coming months, I’ll be blogging about the experiences over at nettingtheplay.com so I’ll save the tour booking stories for another day. Netting is a pretty good example of extreme role juggling – in addition to re-writing the script and organising the many logistics for taking a show on the road, I’m also performing in it this time (an unexpected curveball but one that I’m really excited about – another blog for another day).

Sandy Nelson and I also launched Folkify, a new monthly music night at The Tron where we present folked up versions of popular songs. It’s been brilliant to play my instruments for fun again and I’ve loved working with our guest artists and playing around with folky arrangements. My collaboration with the awesome Sound Artist, Kate Carr, will commence in April when we leave for a month long residency in Iceland. The actor inside has also been involved with some role-playing and corporate shoots and I’m really delighted to have signed up with the fantastic Brennan Artists (it looks like I’m well and truly out of performance retirement…). I also started some advisory work with the amazing Impact Arts and returned to Lochend High School in my Scots Language Ambassador role.

Work continues on Heroines (with the fantastic AJ Taudevin, Belle Jones and Catrin Evans) exploring strong female characters and my project Folk (exploring multi-disciplinary artistry), will go into development later this year supported by The Tron. We’re also developing The Edge, my Rough Mix residency project with Magnetic North, at some point in the coming months and I genuinely can’t wait to return to the fantastical world that we created back in 2014 (… how time flies!). I’m also working on collaborative projects with some of my favourite artists including Catriona Lexy Campbell (stepping into the scary world of television), partner-in-creative-crime Allie Butler (some magical feminist developments), Helen Milne (the most wonderful producer), Dani Rae (wearer of many hats but, mainly, just a total star) and Sarah Rose Grabor (exploring the self versus the selfie which, along the way, has resulted in the most amazing conversations). My interests continue to centre around female led work, multi-disciplinary / cross-art form performance, collaborative practice and marginalised voices.

What else? I’ve seen some fantastic theatre this year including Blood of the Young’s The Golden Arm Theatre Project and Peter Arnott’s FACE: Isobel at a Play, a Pie and a Pint. Also, Matt Regan’s Greater Belfast was one of the most stunning shows I've ever seen – spoken word, a string quartet… it was honest, beautiful and completely inspiring. I also celebrated my 21st (ahem…) birthday, finally connected with friends that I haven’t seen for a long time, got some new headshots taken, waved goodbye to my friend and colleague Katherine Nesbitt who is off to the big smoke (look after her, Londoners) and, of course, over-indulged in admin, emails and application after application after application. And, lest I forget, my phone broke, mice invaded the flat and the bank accidentally temporarily blacklisted me. All sorted now but, yup, I could’ve been doing without the additional drama…!

There’s never enough time and there’s never enough money (let’s face it, I’d earn more working in the pub – another conversation for another day but one that I feel very strongly that artists have to keep having) but I’m thankful to have woken up with a smile on my face most days and that, in itself, has made this a great year so far. And, here we go, I can finally tick BLOG off of my to do list... (but what colour highlighter…? Is it blue admin? Or pink creative…?).

Anyway, here’s to less stressing and more living this year - that's the plan, anyway...

Morna xx

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