James Nash and Pip Williams of CONGLOMERATE: The Internet, the “unsettling” and their collaboration on Guidelines. Guidelinesis a live haunting for the social media age, a primordial ritual conjuring the dark side of growing up online. Running from the 3rd-14th February at New Diorama Theatre – Tickets here
CONGLOMERATE’s work often examines large structures and modern mythologies. What are the systems or narratives you feel most driven to interrogate right now, and why?
JAMES: The internet! Our show is about growing up with an infinite source of information, which likely means being exposed to something that could traumatise you, how social media algorithms show you horrible violence next to more benign content, how it keeps you watching and consuming all the same. Otherwise, we’re interested in the normalisation of conspiracy theory and parasocial relationships (which we’ll hopefully explore respectively in our next two shows, programmers get in touch).
PIP: Agreed- it feels important to remember that all these things that govern how we see the world right now- life online, celebrity, political narratives- are just that, narratives. I know it’s a cliched thing for an artist to say, but we are a story-based civilisation, and James and I are really interested in digging into the stories behind/embedded in these big, abstract, scary-feeling structures. Like it’s been so interesting with Guidelines finding out how much shared DNA there is between stuff like chain emails, or creepypasta stories, or indeed the general fear of how young people use the internet, and Victorian ghost stories, or the folk-horror tradition. There’s very little going on right now that hasn’t been already addressed somehow by the artists who have gone before us.
James prioritises atmosphere and imaginative limitation, while Pip often works with language, folklore, and direct audience address. How do these approaches challenge and enrich each other in the creation process?
JAMES: One of the great things about Pip’s work is how his writing is full of images, so you get a lot of atmosphere for free. Similarly with direct address, its a more direct form of engagement, its makes you respond in a more direct way. Otherwise it’s the same as other collaborators, they make you see things in a different way; the show you’re making changes. It can feel vulnerable, but it’s essential to the shows we make.
PIP: I think we’re both really interested in imagination, ultimately, in the contract that the audience signs on entering the theatre- that for this allotted period of time, you’re going to believe that this room is another place, and these people are other people, and constantly trying to interrogate that contract and see how far it can be pushed. As a writer I think I tend more towards imagery, and I’m very language-focused, and so it’s really great having a collaborator with such a brilliant visual/scenographic imagination, as it helps bring a lot of abstract/heady stuff into a tangible reality. Also we both like doing, for want of a better phrase, weird shit, and it’s a lot of fun figuring out together the level of weirdness that’s achievable within our budget and timescale.
You aim to create unsettling experiences that stay with audiences long after they leave. What does “unsettling” mean to you, and how do you judge when a piece has achieved that effect?
JAMES: For me, ‘Unsettling’ is a heightened sense of awareness, something that you cannot stop thinking about. If it changed how I look at things I’d say it’s achieved its effect.
PIP: In a lot of my favourite theatrical experiences there’s been a genuine feeling of not knowing what’s going to happen next- it’s about making stuff that feels properly live and unpredictable, that’s recognisable on a really visceral level. I think ultimately being unsettled is about being confronted by something that is normally repressed or hidden.
Your work frequently reflects on how culture is made rather than simply presenting a story. How intentional is the decision to expose power, authorship, or audience complicity within the performance itself?
JAMES: I think we want audiences to be aware of how things are constructed but never want them to feel at fault. We’d never have a moment where performers turn to the audience and go ‘and you did nothing’. They booked to come see the show! If there is a complicity it’s a positive one, them watching it completes it.
PIP: I agree with James, I absolutely hate making the audience feel guilty about things- you always want a show to be the start of a conversation, rather than a telling-off. As said earlier, your audience signs a contract when they come in, and you want to make something that you all feel you have a stake in, maker and audience alike, a world you all want to exist in for a bit. We try and reflect that in the making process as well- we’ve been lucky enough to have our brilliant design team in the rehearsal room for a lot of the process, meaning that, hopefully, authorship feels shared by a lot of people and it’s not just me and James telling people to do stuff. As a writer I’m finding it really thrilling to be making a text that could not exist without lots of other people.
Having worked across a wide range of venues and international contexts, how have different spaces and audiences shaped the way CONGLOMERATE collaborates and takes creative risks?
JAMES: The majority of my work has been in festival and fringe contexts, so most audience members know they going to watch something more experimental than they’d be used to. It’s a great base to push expectations and test our ambitions.
PIP: It’s kind of sad thinking about the answer to this question, as I feel like a lot of my thinking and the way I like to write for theatre has been influenced by spaces that no longer exist- the energy and DIY spirit of places like Vaults or The Bunker, for example, both of which got crushed by the greed of various stupid property people in central London. I saw so many shows in those places that were telling epic stories with next to nothing, shows that properly relied on the audience’s trust and imagination, and I really try and carry that forward in what I do. Also any number of shows I’ve seen at New Diorama, which is why it’s kind of a dream to be doing Guidelines there! One of our actors, Rachel, was in a show there which was a version of Antigone which basically changed my life, so it’s nice having her on board.
Your work balances imagination, restraint, and moments of unabashed sentimentality. how do you build trust with an audience when traditional theatrical expectations are being challenged?
JAMES: Starting with something familiar/some level of grounding which you can use as a foundation to build off. That being said, my favourite theatrical experiences are the one where the audience has been forced to get on board/move out of their comfort zones. Case by case I suppose.
PIP: It’s something I think about a lot, as someone who likes to make work that’s scary or confrontational- how to balance that desire to challenge an audience with a desire to keep them safe. Like James says, it’s case-by-case, but essentially you always have to remember that you’re constructing someone’s evening; if you’re going to try and weird your audience out, there also has to be enough stuff that’s exciting or funny or nice to look at to justify them leaving the house.