Escape from the King

Above is a short video clip showing an excerpt from a three hour game that spontaneously erupted when a group of boys, aged about 8, encountered Sheepwoman at Buddhafield festival in the summer of 2011. 

I had been asked by a friend to perform a number of promenade performances during the four day festival in the Blackdown Hills, Somerset, England.  I have written about another performance I made during the festival here; http://globalsheepwomanresearchlaboratory.blogspot.de/2012/05/girl-and-golden-thread.html

My approach to "performing" at this time was to be completely spontaneous and open to whatever happened. So as soon as I put on the mask, I set off in my 'white sheep' costume in daylight, which was in stark contrast to the black sheep I had performed at night previously and of which I have written in the above post.  
I was quite taken aback however, when fifteen minutes into my performance and just having flirtatiously gate crashed a meeting of musicians in a marquee, I found myself standing in a field surrounded by a small gang of boys armed with sticks and swords.

Within minutes of encountering Sheepwoman the boys seemed intent on attack, my vision inside the mask is extremely limited and I could feel their presence all around me.  I started to feel like a vulnerable animal under attack, as for the boys somehow the presence of Sheepwoman seemed to bring out an instinctive, archetypal urge to attack, and kill the sheep or sacrificial lamb.  Within perhaps ten minutes of the "game" beginning the boys formed themselves into a hierarchy with a self appointed King, who from then on made decisions and gave orders as to whether Sheepwoman or "the sheep" could live or die.  

I tried a number of tactics to deal with the boys who lashed out at me and hit me with their sticks and plastic swords. I charged at them which sent them all running away very fast, but soon they were back, surrounding me on all sides.  I used body language to show I was not a threat, I oscillated between confrontation, negotiation and escape.  I found a kindly looking mother sitting next to a fire pit, I sat at her feet and sought her intervention on my behalf.  

"But why do you want to kill the sheep?" 
"Because I'm the King!"
"But look she is so gentle and kind" said the mother.
"No!" shouted the king "We will kill the sheep! The sheep must die!!"
"But you can see she has a kindly face, feel her soft fleece"
"No! shouted the king, "She is a white sheep, we don't like white sheep!" 
"I'm the King and we will kill the sheep!"

So I got to my feet and started to run again.  The mother could not protect me from the boys.
I searched for a way to escape their taunts and threats of violence. I ran into a marquee where a tango class was taking place, Sheepwoman dodged through the dancing couples with the boys making chase and chanting "Kill the sheep! Kill the sheep!" 

As I scarpered out of the tango class I hurled myself onto the ground landing on a stall selling sheepskin rugs.  I felt like a hunted animal, whilst the sheepskin rugs provided a soft landing, I was painfully aware of the slaughter that had taken place to provide these wonderfully warm and cosy rugs. I was seriously mistaken in thinking that the sheepskin salesman would provide some kind of protection to Sheepwoman!  After a few minutes of rest amongst the fleeces he pushed me away - disturbed by my presence.  So the chase began again as I fled from the marauding King and his minions.

In the scene above Sheepwoman imagines she can get away from the boys by hitching a lift on a Land Rover.  She did not get very far and the boys seemed to think that getting onto the bonnet of a vehicle was flouting the rules of the game.  Sheepwoman continued on up the hill with the boys in tow, occasionally stopping for breaks for us all to catch our breath, perhaps after several hours victim and predators had made a bond.

The King decided as we all rested amongst some straw bales that if I was in a marquee I could live, if I was on a stage or on a carpet I could live, but if my feet touched the grass then I would die.  So the chase continued across the grass and muddy fields in and out of cafe's, tents and marquee's as I sought the protection of the adults. I found a band playing in a cafe and sought a few minutes solace on the stage at the feet of the drummer who protected me for a little while and as the rules seemed to get more complex as to whether "the sheep" could live or die.  Later the king decided that as I was a white sheep that perhaps he might let me live after all.  

The performance or game ended when the gang of boys followed Sheepwoman all the way back to her camp. There I finally took off my mask and immediately the dynamics shifted between us.  As Sheepwoman, or as "the sheep" I had genuinely engaged with the fear of a hunted animal despite the fact that I was being chased by such small boys. Without my mask the King diminished in his power and he could no longer threaten me. Now I was a grown woman and he was a young boy and he told me that of course he did not want to hurt me, that it had just been a game.   For the boys I think it was a day they will always remember to play for hours with an adult willing to 'play' for so long, and that the figure of Sheepwoman was genuinely quite scary and threatening to them.  Somehow the figure of Sheepwoman brought out an archetypal drive to scapegoat, or slaughter the sheep in the boys' imagination.

With thanks to Keith Fisher who made this video clip.

The girl and the golden thread.

Last summer I was invited by a friend to bring Sheepwoman to Buddhafield festival, in Somerset England.  I took with me three sheep masks packed in a wicker hamper, together with several dresses and a pair of tap dancing shoes.

My intention was to be completely spontaneous, trusting when sheepwoman would want to appear.  I have had this approach for several years now, only recently have I started to   incorporate rehearsed aspects into my often spontaneous actions. 

I waited until the time felt right for Sheepwoman to emerge.  She did not appear until two days into the festival, it was Friday night and the moon shone down over the beautiful Somerset landscape.  I decided to wear a new mask, a very dark mask, it no longer exists and I have no documentation of it.  It was a made by stretching black tights over a wire armature creating a slightly devil-ish void-like black sheep head.  I wore a simple black dress, black tights and black tap dance shoes.  

In the hamper containing my masks and costumes I also packed a reel of very fine, delicate golden thread.  I have performed several times with this thread, reeling it out to people, making a fine web of gossamer gold.

I set off into the night with my mask and gold thread looking for a place to get changed.  I returned to a stall I had been to earlier that day as I liked the people I had met there.  I was unable to change privately.   

As I put on my mask a woman said to me,  
"That mask is evil, nothing good will ever come of this".

I set off into the festival night, and gradually began to unravel the golden thread.  Tentatively at first, slightly put off by the dark comments and judgments that had just been passed on my black mask.  Gradually I entered into the sprit of things and gained confidence in my actions.  

I must have spent several hours making a circuit of the festival.  Wearing a mask is intense, vision is limited, and the world is perceived through a minute area.  I/Sheepwoman moved through the night delicately unravelling the golden thread as it caught the light of the moon and people in it's web.

As I picked my way across muddy land I heard comments, feedback, one person said,
"Ah you are the black sheep who spins a web". 
Another said,
 "Why are you wrapping wire around me?" 
A third said, 
"This is the golden thread that connects".  

I/Sheepwoman met people who were intrigued, indifferent, entranced, threatened, humoured. One man said, 
"I think I know this woman, I think she is my ex".
Another woman, as I reeled out the thread in a tent where a band was playing, said, 
"This is dangerous".  
Sheepwoman and I remained silent.   

As I walked up a steep, muddy path opening out onto a large field, with a group of people  entangled in my web, I noticed a girl or rather she noticed me.  She was with her dad and she burst out, 

"Oh look dad, look at her she's so pretty, she could be your girlfriend". 

I continued on my way unravelling the golden thread.  I had just picked my way around a group of people sitting and chatting around a fire, when someone threw their arms around my waist holding me tightly, my vision was restricted by the mask so I could not see who was hugging me but presumed it must have been a friend who knew me.  I continued on my way and again the arms were wrapped tightly around me for a moment, then were gone.  I moved on, for a third time it happened someone was holding onto me very tightly around my waist.  

I could see now it was the girl who had thought my dark Sheepwoman pretty.  Through the limited vision of my black mask I saw her face as I started to give out the golden thread to her, she gathered it in hungrily, she gathered it in, gathered it in greedily.  She gathered the thread close to her, it seemed to me entranced.   I felt immediately she needed as much thread as possible, as much as this golden thread as she could get.  I reeled it out.  I gazed at her behind my black mask,  feeling compassion, connection and a desire to give her the golden thread.  Seeing her face I now knew she was the person I had made my performance for.  Having given her as much thread as I could I felt I could now go home back to my tent.

Finally on my way "home" I wrapped some thread around a sculpture of a deer and made my way back to my tent, the thread was now taught behind me, the circuit completed.  I took off my mask and costume and sat by the fire in a daze.

The next day I was wondering around the festival as Philippa, dressed in my normal clothes, being myself, when I noticed the girl from the night before, she was still with her dad.  I stopped in my tracks wanting to reach out to her, wanting to say something to her about what had happened last night, but how could I?  I stood uncomfortably by as I noticed her dad had her in an armlock and was shouting at her.  She broke free and walked away, I still looking in her direction when she noticed me.  She approached me and said, 

"Do I know you?"
"Yes", I said,  "I'm the black sheep from last night."
She responded instantly, warmly and said,
"I cried last night when you left".
 I was stunned and asked,
"How did you recognise me just now?"
She said,
"Because of your gentle face".

That night wandering through the festival dressed in black with my golden thread I became a shadow and received all kinds of projections, good and bad.  An 11 year old girl found my sheep to be gentle and loving and somehow received something she greatly needed.  Whereas a grown woman found me to be "evil".  The experience was very intense and left me feeling drained.  However I knew that something very precious, something golden and beyond words had been transmitted to a young girl.