Happy to say that my text 'Dining Tables and Performances: or, The Labour of Illusion' has been published by the lovely FEAST journal, in an issue dedicated to the spaces in which we eat.
You can read my essay here, for free.
A tiny visual flavour of it below
Enjoy!
VG

Week 1 of rehearsals at the Attenborough Centre for Creative Arts, Brighton
(ACCA, I should mention, are generously supporting the development of the new show… watch this space)
 
I have been struck by the pleasure of time spent alone working on text and possible performance ideas. Not wishing to jinx future rehearsals, in the first week I was blessed with that most ideal of conditions for working: to be undisturbed. Undisturbed by crippling doubts and ‘second album syndrome’; undisturbed by social commitments, or the fear of missing out; undisturbed by admin duties.
This is largely due to Arts Council England supporting the development of the work. The project is still a fairly small operation, but having Arts Council backing has made all the difference.
The plan is to develop the project through continuous rehearsals and work-in-progress showings, between Jan and May 2018. All details will be available on this website, under the Gambini section. Producer Sally Rose and I are also concocting a likely plan for Edinburgh, ahead of touring the work in 2018-2019.
 
The show is likely to be called The Chore of Enchantment. It will be about disappointment and wonder, about political awakening and disillusionment, the job of the magician, being overwhelmed by the news, and experiencing ‘magician’s block’ (same as writer’s block, but for magicians).
Coming to a theatre near you… if you book it.
Please book it.

Yours,
VG

PS An early promo for the show is below. Video by Hugo Glendinning.
 

Such a simple yet 'profound' moment of confusion, in this short clip by magician Michael Carbonaro, subjecting unsuspecting members of the public to magic tricks.
Sitting at a bar, receiving a large drink, from which he proceeds to extract seemingly inexhaustible amounts of fruit, cocktail umbrellas, and even an egg seemingly containing a live parakeet, Michael Carbonaro's unsuspecting victim seems bemused and, in her own words, 'happy' at this oddly impossible feat (and Michael does a good job of feigning surprise himself).
The interesting moment comes at the end, when the magician reveals that A. This was all a magic trick, and B. You're on TV. The audience member (now turned into an audience member, we could say), seems less concerned about the television element, but does offer a great comment: firstly, she tells Michael how much she loves magic. Then, it slowly dawns on her what happened, and that the amazing bottomless drink must be a magic trick. 'That whole thing was magic?  You just did all this? That was not.... the drink?'
It's as though magic needs an author, a person responsible for these feats, a centre of animation, a puppet master, etc. Before the revelation, when Michael is haplessly performing as though magic was happening to him, the illusion is solid: something delightful and wonderful is happening here, who knows why... But as soon as the premise is clear - that someone is behind all this, making it happen intentionally - that's when we shift into magic.

Or something.