How a Different Type of Imagination Was Born

by Julie Pasqual

         

Julie P performs at a NJ Storytelling Festival

 The workshop participants were well travelled - having lived in several countries in just the last few years - spoke multiple languages, were passionate about theatre, and made friends easily.  They were also between the ages of 11-14. 

          In the last few years I have had the marvelous opportunity to travel abroad, and work with international school theatre students who are skilled at creating their own theatre pieces – no scripts, no literal interpretations – fully student devised creations based on an inspiration point they have been assigned. My job is to help them go from strangers, to a fully functioning ensemble, and help them get a 5-10 minute piece of theatre on stage in three days – WHEW!  During those whirlwind weekends, I have also been asked to give workshops in other forms of theatre to expose the students to different theatrical genres.  Most times I have been asked to present a workshop on clown, but this time it was on storytelling.

            I was delighted to share the art of storytelling with this special group of students – I only had an hour and fifteen minutes, so I chose a type of story that I ADORE to work with – the Porquoi Tale.  How I love the ingenuity of our forefathers and foremothers who looked at the world around them and asked, “Why???” And from the depths of their imagination, created answers that are beautiful, enchanting – and, for my money, a lot more interesting than the scientific answer to such queries as “Why Bear Sleeps All Winter Long?” or “Why Doesn’t Frog Have a Tail?”

         I thought that it would be almost embarrassingly easy to get these beyond bright, and articulate young adults to take to both this type of folktale, and create a story of their own.  Boy, was I wrong!!!!  While these students could create a waterfall with their bodies, write, direct, and star in a commercial in which a pissed off Mother Nature socks it to her listening audience – they simply could not get away from the science that they had been taught.  “Why do leaves turn colors?” was met not with an imaginative offering, but a reach for Wikipedia or Google.  “It could be anything!”  I urged them, even telling them my favorite Porquoi Tale, and giving examples of others, but their highly educated minds stalled in the realm of “reality”.

        I went to, what I think is the friend to all creative expression – play.  As some British storyteller said once (I read it in a National Storytelling Network magazine years ago, and can’t remember the author) “Play makes risky things safe – and simple things exciting!” I had them move about the space doing some body isolations – this is something I knew they were familiar with – it is a very typical theatre game – but then I brought in the woman who was the first person to really tell me a story – my grandmother!

        Well, actually, sadly, my Nanny has been gone from this planet for a long time now, but I embody her to tell one of my favorite stories – and I used her to push these kids to play.  Donning a scarf, and my REALLY bad West Indian accent, I walked up to the kids as they moved about the space doing body isolations, and with my Grandmother’s pursed lips, and sassy style (this is a woman whom one of my first boyfriends said had nice legs!) demanded to know why they were moving so strangely.  Nanny did not take “I don’t know,” as an answer, and she prodded them to give her a reason why!  Soon the kids were breaking into groups, coaching their friends on what to tell Nanny as to why they were moving in that manner.  Working together the kids began to construct outlandish reasons for why their butts were sticking out, or their arms were swinging wildly.  And, only when they had made some kind of narrative – the wilder the better, did Nanny let them off the hot seat.

         From there the creation of a Porquoi Story in groups became easy – soon the moon was conversing with a magic hat, turtles and lions were friends, and snakes were actually pretty nice critters.  It was just another reminder for me about just how important working the muscle of imagination is – and how easily it can be lost, or shoved aside for more “logical” ways of thinking and doing.  And while logic, obviously has its place (I for one need to cultivate a lot more of it) – it can possibly leave out the fantastical, the amazing, and unique complexity of folktales like the Porquoi Story.