HEROIN is about everything that ever happened
An article I wrote in 201 about the process of making HEROIN. reposting here in advance of #HeroinTour
This article is meant to be a post-mortem of the project. My reflection on what happened and what that means now. As I write and think about the process all I want to talk about are the
flashes of memories. The moments that shook me. The taste. The chase. The reasons I had to keep going. The reasons I had to make this piece.
Before we began the actual devising process of Heroin, I undertook a huge research and development project. I was able to do this because CREATE believed in the idea and gave me some money. I decided to do this before I made any attempt to work on the show because I was terrified. The subject was huge, and it felt HUGE.
One of the lines from the show that stands out in my memory “This is about everything that ever happened” and it was. The more I learnt- the more I had to learn. Big heavy books. Hospitals and Waiting rooms. Letters and Offices and secretaries. Hunter S Thompson and Ewan McGregor. Needle Exchange. Harm Reduction. Methadone methadone, What does it actually look like? How much is a ‘Q’ worth. How do we know? Its all relative to everything else. Factors and Patterns.
You know a heroin-addicted child by its cry, its high pitched scream, the sound echoes all over the ward, the nurses feel like a battle lost.
The differences and the similarities. Everyone is the same. Everyone is the same but its the differences we live with. Its the differences we are choosing to live with.
Do something.
I was terrified.
I would interview the service users. In little interview rooms. Paper cups and sugary tea. Crutches and always one of us injured. The space between grows smaller and smaller. Something in common with everyone. Went to school with your cousin. I know your sister. I know that, I’ve felt that. People. Just people in front of you after a while. The gap is closing in. The artist strung out on tradgedy. The addict addicted to coffee. The empathy felt. The pain seen. We’re all the same. We’re all brothers and sisters in holy god’s family. No god now. No need. We’re all brothers and sisters. We’re all connected. We’re all invested. It matters to me what happens to you. Its about value really. Value and Choice. How much do we value life? Life has to be equal doesn’t it?
Walking home from the drug team with Shane. One of those days that’s a shift in the weather. A marked shift. You can feel it. You’ll bring your gloves tomorrow. This is going to be important Grace isn’t it. Yeah. But your still terrified.
An education you can’t get from the books or the films. Throw it all away and put your hands on the people. Squeeze the hands. Listen about the miscarriage- or what their father did. Talk about what you did. There’s no interview now. Just people talking. Put your hands on the people. Your not touching the subject. Its not touching you. Its one in the same.
This project becomes bigger than theatre, and simpler than the drug trade or the chemical workings of a drug in a body.
I ask them, if they could identify one thing that they could change about how the rest of the world see’s them- what would it be?
The words we use to describe them. The word junkie. Don’t define me by this. I am more than this. This is not what I am. I am changing. There’s no more them. There’s no more seperate. I had never thought of that before.
I am changing, I am moving, I’m getting excited. Passionate. But terrified; No one wants to watch your heart bleed.
We have to move forward faster. This is holding us back. Don’t ignore the suffering. Oh yeah. And its all about context.
I write the word ‘context’ over 19 pages of a single notebook.
This isn’t about sense. “This is not journalism, Grace” a friend screams down the phone.
The more you learn, the less you know. I feel better with everything I learn.
Better and passionate. Words to describe passion. Fired. Psyched. Stop no that won’t work. There are no words. No words just heroin. Heroin and people’s faces. Start to see people I’d never seen before. I am changing. I am different now. My place has shifted. My perspective is different.
I started to devise a piece of work with the Mens Group at Rialto Community Drug Team. They wanted to make a piece about street language. How to conceal what you’re saying. We made a deal. If I would help them with their piece, they would help me with mine.
I stand in a room thats designed for meditation. There’s a buddhist waterfall in the corner. Some quotes about peace. A whiteboard. More sugary tea. I teach these men things I learnt in Dublin Youth Theatre about improvising and devising. The space grows smaller. Context. Yeah? Yeah. Context.
I find people to work with. I talk at them passionately about why we’re making this piece; why people need to see it.
We start to move forward. Slowly at first, then faster than I could have imagined. More moments flash to mind.
I read Rachael Keogh’s book, Dying to Survive. I start and I literally can’t stop. Friends already. Connected like. I call her. We have chips and cigarettes. She helps me make my play. She comes in and visits.
We build a flat and live in it. We build it in the theatre in St.Andrews Community Centre in Rialto- The same room where the Variety Group I wasn’t allowed to join when I was twelve meet. Context. We build the flat, and we do live in it. We live in Heroin and its volume lives in us.
We work with the recovering addicts on their play. We show them ours. They laugh or they talk back. They storm out and slam the door. I’ll remember that sound. That sound will come back.
I ask Rachael how she feels about the parts of her book we’ve chosen to use. This is more about you than it is about me, she says.
There’s no they now. I’m changing. We’re changing. We’ve moved.
There’s no ‘they’ now. It’s us. We’re in this together.
After a while it all becomes normal. The actors are making tea for the addicts. The addicts are directing the play. The director is being counselled by the criminals.
We build the flat and live in it; and living in it is very hard. Every day there’s a little explosion. We all make tea and sit around the table. I reem off speeches about passion, and community and why we are doing this. It’s not our fault these things happen. All we’re doing is showing it.
We build the flat and live in it, and we become very close. We have to. I tell Barry its his play really. Its one of those rehearsal in-jokes. But its true. I don’t have to hold this on my own anymore. We’re all in this together. It’s important. It’s important to all of us. Emma sits in rehearsals and announces that its all going to be okay. Doireann climbs through barbed wire to get the windows for the set. Shane leaves me a note in the rehearsal room.
“dear grace, this just might be your masterpiece”
I’ve changed. I’m not terrified anymore.
I think alot about community. The fringe is about community this year. We’re making this piece in a community and with a community, and so many people are involved. I start to see what happens when everyone gets this invested.
There’s a moment in rehearsals that changes everything. I ask Lauren to do something and she can do it straight away. She’s been rehearsing it just in case. We’re all in this together.
We show the men’s group the finished show. Lauren falls on the ground and Billser goes over to help her. He asks her is she okay. A section of audio, with names of all those whose died in Fatima over the years play. “Thats my best friend. I knew him. Thats my best friend” we pause for a minute, but we keep watching. Conor is cooking up and the door slams again.
Is that because of me?
The mens group are impressed. Shake hands. Pat backs. Ask questions. Okay. We are ready now.
In the theatre and overwhelmed. It works and its devastating. What I’ll remember is that slams. The sound the seats make when someone can’t take it anymore. Bang. Slam. The actors pause for a minute, respectful like, just keep going.
Is that because of me?
I didn’t make this happen- I’m just making a play about it.
It just keeps going I think, relentless. This isn’t one of those shows I’ll toast and put to bed relieved. No. This is about everything that ever happened. The more we look at it the less we’ll know.
On the Monday of the run at around 3pm, we realise one of our actors is too sick to go on.
I call my friend Conor, and he agrees to go on in a matter of seconds. He’s been involved with the show from very early on. Himself and another of my friends, Ger, did a development week on it with me in March.
I call Barry and Lauren and I ask them if they still want to do the show. They do.
Barry and Lauren get taxi’s to the theatre. Conor arrives and is handed a script. This is at four-thirty. Emma and Niamh get food for the actors. At 9.45pm, Conor goes on.
I really think about community. What I’m seeing, what I’m feeling is about strenght. Endurance. I’ve never felt more together. More the same. More supported. This is about community. A well oiled machine. Live with the crisis and recover. Because that is what we are doing. Nothing stops, nothing starts, its one in the same.
On the wednesday night of the run alot of people from the community come to see the show. All of the communities. The writers, directors, critics and our friends sit with the addicts and they watch. What we’re looking at is happening in the seats beside us. Is one in the same.
What I’ll remember is that slams. The sound the seats make when someone can’t take it anymore. How that feels in that room. Bang. Slam. The actors pause for a minute, respectful like, just keep going.
Is that because of me?
I didn’t make this happen- I’m just making a play about it
I am making a play about it. Those noises is the reason I chose to do it like this, live, together in the same space at the same time. Its live and we can all feel it, witness it, make it- together. Not seperate, not apart. As one in the same.
HEROIN is on National Tour around Ireland from 30 January;
HEROIN National Tour
★★★★★ - Sunday Times
★★★★ - Irish Times
#HeroinTour
THEATREclub’s award winning HEROIN is back this year on a national tour of Ireland.
“Heroin manages to convey the needle and Irish society’s wilful ignorance of the damage done” - IRISH THEATRE MAGAZINE
“[The show] effectively charts the rise of heroin, and society’s inability to deal with it, from the late 1970s to the present day…. this is a tough play about hard times and a horrible existence that is handled with skill and ambition.” - THE IRISH TIMES
“the feel of ‘Reeling in the Years’ on Smack.” - WRITING.IE
30th January, Lyric Theatre, Belfast… Book Here // 31st January, Down Arts Centre, Downpatrick… Book Here // 2nd February, Town Hall Theatre, Galway… Book Here // 3rd & 4th February, Everyman Palace, Cork… Booking Open Soon Call The Venue for Details // 6th February, Garter Lane Arts Centre, Waterford… Book Here // 7th February, Dunamaise Arts Centre, Portlaoise… Book Here
w w w . T H E A T R E c l u b . i e