Production notes for "Fields"
Welcome to "Fields". Like many of our shows, "Fields" started from a chance conversation. At the Saxmundham performance of "The Reapers Year" I mentioned to Marya Parker of the Suffolk Wildlife Trust that it was perhaps about time that we explored the natural world again. Many years ago we had toured a play called "Natural Causes", which in a fairly flip manner investigated the Wildlife and Countryside Bill, only recently passed through Parliaments and remembered chiefly for the protection it gave to bats.
Just over nine months before I had returned from six-months sabbatical taking me from Alaska to Mexico, down the western seaboard of the north American continent. One of the major themes I followed was people's relationship with the environment. I was particularly surprised to find the logger, surely the hero of Canadian history, had become something of a pariah in many circles. I journeyed into Clayquot Sound, the heartland of the debate where environmentalists and the Native American Indians were fighting the logging industry to protect first growth forest, the salmon spawning runs and the marbled murrellet, a rare species of owl that nests in the old trees.
Back home in Suffolk, I was determined that we tackle something more domestic, as it pertains to the ordinary person in the street, rather than stand-up rows between environmentalists and farmers. Marya is never one to let an opportunity to pass by and she duly gave me a call shortly afterwards to find out if I was interested in meeting up for a chat. She sent me the new leaflet from Common Ground, an organisation dedicated to promoting a celebration of our countryside in all its dimensions, which asked people to look anew at fields. Since I am often grateful to other people coming to me with ideas I agreed and we invited Roger Deakin, a local film-maker and director of Common Ground, along to join in the fairly wide-ranging discussion. I was interested in a play but was definitely not interested in replaying some of the rather sterile debates around whether to preserve or not, who are the bad guys and who are the good, or to conjure up another doom-laden prophecy for the future of the planet. Since this show was conceived in the hottest summer for years and was written during the coldest winter, where a sleeping bag and hot water bottle have been as essential as the word processor, I thought we might try and avoid extremes in the show itself. Taking a specific subject like fields seemed a sensible approach.
There have been times since then that I have cursed the choice of fields. Hedges, woodland, wildlife in general are much more tangible subjects and easier to document and tell stories about. Fields are in essence conceptual. They came into being as a result of felling woodland (felled area), in other words their identity is related to what they are not. Secondly their history is shrouded in mystery and speculation, particularly in this area where the intensity of the agriculture has obliterated most of the signs of any early cultivation. Finally, the number of human stories about fields proved to be very small, despite the fact that most human activities have taken place in fields at some point or another.
I waded through place-names studies, histories of woodland, histories of fields and anything I could lay my hands on that taught me something about this subject. Much of it being archeological was related to distinct places, something I was anxious to avoid, since we could get bogged down with the actual history rather than enjoy the freedom of fiction. I even waded through a book on Californian ecopsychology with notions of trauma, addiction and recovery that seemed to chime with our civilization's relationship to the natural world. But after such research it is always essential to bring oneself back to earth, so to speak. So on Christmas Eve I went for a walk across the fields near one of the South Elmhams, near to the old Minster that sleeps in the middle of prairie fields around. Nearby there are some beautifully reclaimed water meadows and replanted hedges. Ancient and modern farming methods were very close together.
My research took me to Tom Williamson at UEA who brilliantly brought to life the history of fields in human terms. He swiftly dispelled all notions that enclosure, the big bogeyman of the village labourer, was only related to the last century and illustrated how our modern field system was largely the result of consensual swapping of strips, farmers agreeing amongst themselves to make bigger fields and the endless desire to cheat the landlord, usually either church or lord of the manor, and grab an extra piece of land. However, the most persistent cause of change was quite simply population increase or decrease.
To find out more on the practical front I went to see Mike Hardy, a field archeologist, who brought out endless examples of the kinds of simple treasure that is sitting on the surface of the land and which can tell us what went on so many hundreds of years ago. It was a fascinating story and I only wish could further explore the prehistoric peoples of our region.
Clearing a space, cutting down part of the wildwood, taming animals, discovering plants? Who knows the order in which they did things. Or found the instructions. Some say the first thing has to be languages, although you can argue that sowing and reaping corn is as much a language as anything else that communicates your culture. Their language was fields. To a certain extent, for a period of time, the fields became the good grammar, the syntax of the average Briton. They were the spaces into which was poured meaning and information.
I have to thank all those involved in this production for the constant feedback they have given me as we have produced this show. A general sense of collaboration has been in the air as we have investigated characters and plots. Naturally I take full responsibility for anything that fails to come across, but they all deserve any credit.
Ivan Cutting - Artistic Director