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We See Fireworks is an installation and a performance archive of audience voices. A curated programme of memories of past performances or performative moments whispered softly into the darkness.
Articulated by 250 recordings of strangers, these words are viral, searing into the consciousness until our deepest memories become yours.
You can immerse yourself in We See Fireworks at the Edinburgh Fringe Festival 2011:
Monday 22 - Saturday 27 August 10:30am - 4:45pm
The Lecture Room, Museum of Edinburgh, Huntly House, 142 Canongate, Royal Mile, Edinburgh EH8 DD
Entry is FREE (limited capacity)
‘You find yourself laughing and all of a sudden you don’t know why you have been laughing at all’
Tweet #WSF with your perfect or poignant performance moments to help us build our memory bank...
Monday, 29 August 2011
Upon entering the room, lit by faded iridescent light bulbs, you instantly find yourself embedded inside someone else’s vibrant reminiscence; ‘We See Fireworks’ is an unimaginable, enchanting collection of precious and personal memoirs. All 300 voices welcome the listener, to share their story, which is extremely moving as they are often private or once-in-a-lifetime experiences. All the memories relate to theatre and explore the idea of ‘performance’ and how people relate to it. The glowing and fading light bulbs become mesmerising, as you listen to stories of love, fear, woe, hope, longing and contentment. Then they fade and you are left in darkness with other people’s experiences lingering around you. A truly unique, inspirational and poignant piece of work.
28 August 2011
Maybe a memory of it will fetch up, along with the other confiding voices in Helen Cole’s haunting, absorbing installation, We See Fireworks. It sound simple. Various light bulbs dangle overhead. Unseen, unidentified strangers volunteer taped memories of performances – some staged, while others were moments of a personal nature – that combined and heightened into a recollected theatricality. You listen. Bulbs flare collectively or dwindle into lone flickerings. And the power of stories – secrets, in many cases – seizes you, makes you hungry for more. Not least when, as happened, I heard a guy speak feelingly about a show I’d seen and reviewed. I saw the stars I’d awarded it, not just the fireworks ... I’d love this to tour all around Scotland.
29 August 2011
29 August 2011
Tuesday, 16 August 2011
Friday, 12 August 2011
Bristol. June 09
I think it was this year. I had to go and see my girlfriend to say I was going to be late home. I was in an enclosed space with a piano and a kind of upside down barber’s mirror. It was a really interesting space. Anyway I was talking, and they kind of closed the space, and I was stuck in there. And I really did not have any time for live art. I really did not have any time for it at all. I wanted to leave, but I had to stay because it was disrespectful to leave the performance. And it was stunning.
This guy came in and he moved the full weight of the piano onto himself, and played this gorgeous song. It was quite pointed, not an ‘oh-I-love-you’ song, but an ‘I-am-going-to-miss-you-but-I-will-be-fine’ sort of thing. The piano was really heavy, and it seemed to be crushing him, and there seemed to be this kind of struggle that was coming from him holding the piano. But the struggle gave the song much more poignancy. It was actually really positive and uplifting, and I felt desperately privileged to be there. It was beautiful, and I think that for about 3 days, maybe a bit more, the performance was my first thought. It just stayed with me, especially the song. It inspired me to move on. He really got deep inside me. It showed his strength, to hold this piano up. Like it was right on top of him. Every sinew in his body was stretched to the limit, and he had to pause between lines to get his breath back and to sing. I have never forgotten it.