Voice DNA: Improvisational Singing Workshop

Singing and improvisation: two things that provoke deep fear in me. So when Saori suggests we go to an improvisational voice workshop called Voice DNA - with my blog pledge in mind - I agree wholeheartedly.

The Hive, where the workshop takes place, is a grungy warehouse space reminiscent of 90s raves and squat parties. I'm early and keen for an alcoholic beverage to take the edge off the humming anxiety of imminently attempting to sing in a room full of strangers. But alas, somewhat unsurprisingly, there is only chai available, so me and Saori sip our teas wedged into a distressed sofa.

Slowly and unsurely, the area the workshop is to take place in starts to take shape as cushions are moved by our teacher Uran into a circle on a small stage in the corner of the room. Other participants - seemingly half regulars, half newbies like me - start to wander over and then the workshop begins.

We start with warm-ups, simple vocal exercises to loosen up our mouths and throats. Then it's onto an array of playful improvisation exercises - at times fun, at times daunting. We sing a constant note which we pass one by one around the circle, listening to our neighbour's voice fade out as we fade in. This then evolves from a single note into a melody which adapts, changes as it goes around the circle. Directed by Uran, we form a 'human mandala' through concentric circles of voices, each circle playing a different role, whether rhythm, melody or harmony.

Most dauntingly, gathered in a circle towards the end of the workshop, we take it in turns to direct the rest of the group to the beat of Uran's drum. One by one we sing lines that the rest of the group mimic. And by singing I mean any number of noises, wailings and general gutteral utterances that anyone chooses to give voice to. I couldn't claim to have enjoyed that particular exercise or some of the others that led up to it. The crux of the class is an improvisational experience, letting go and, dare I say it, 'going with the flow', none of which come naturally to me in any kind of abundance. But I muddle through - helped greatly by Uran, a very gentle and warm teacher - and even manage to enjoy large chunks of it, laughing my way through some parts and losing myself momentarily in others.

I Made a Wood Stool

I very rarely leave the house before 11am on a weekend but here I am on a Saturday morning at 9:30am cycling through the nearly deserted square mile, across an icy sunlit Southwark Bridge to get to the first day of my two day workshop at The Goodlife Centre where I will make a wood stool.

I walk into the workshop which is crammed with other eager students: a mix of men and women of various ages. Our teacher, Andy, introduces himself and his two assistants and we go through the usual cringey self introductions and find places to sit at the workshop benches.

Throughout the day we are guided through various techniques. We start by gluing two pieces of wood together with the extra support of wooden dowels to make what will be the stool seat, before planing the surface of the wood that will become the underside of the seat. I remember using planes at school, weighty tools, but satisfying to use, seeing the rough unhewn surface of the wood yield to a clean fresh newborn layer.

Andy, a fatherly gentle instructor, gets very enthusiastic about the smoothness of the wood and the characteristics within it, the dark knots and unusual grains in the surface. His obvious lifelong devotion to woodwork is infectious and permeates through the duration of the course.

Next we round the corners of the rectangular stool seats. First by sawing off a corner and then by using a spoke-shave plane - a sort of small two-handed plane that does finer work. It takes time to get a feel for it, but once I do, it has a very therapeutic quality to it, smoothing off the harsh edges of the wood.

At the end of day one I have a rectangular piece of wood with nicely rounded corners to show for six hours of labour. Though it has been a slow process it feels good to pay close attention and care to an object I am making with only the use of hand tools.  I am not generally a patient person so this course forces me to pull back and wait for slow-paced results. It is a real antidote to general life and work and there is an undeniable sense of satisfaction in seeing the long-awaited tangible outcome.

On day two, the following week, we work in pairs to insert the stool legs into pre-drilled holes in the seat surface. Then come the stretchers - the wooden poles that join the legs to one another - and finally the long-awaited and best part: finishing the surface of the seat. Firstly we plane the parts of the legs that protrude above the seat surface then sweep the plane across the whole surface from edge to edge, working methodically from left to right until there is no unevenness.

With a little overtime for some of us, and a little extra help from Andy and the team, we all come away with a completed wood stool of varying heights and qualities. Walking through Borough with my stool held aloft, attempting to keep it distant from potential collisions with oncoming Saturday evening crowds, I feel tired but pleased, and excited by ideas of new woodwork projects.

London Hackspace

Sometime in the middle of last summer I was taken on an informal tour of the London Hackspace by a friend and immediately felt inspired and impressed by the concept. What is the London Hackspace? The official description on their website reads: The London Hackspace is a non-profit hackerspace in central London. We're a community-run workshop for people to come to share tools and knowledge. It is overseen by a group of trustees who are elected by members and make any long-term decisions, though on a day-to-day basis it operates in a messy - but mostly functional - cooperative manner.

Take a tour through the website and you can see the range of skills the Hackspace covers, from wood and metal work through to 'biohacking', laser cutting and a whole host of computer geekery. Located on Hackney Road, walking into the building feels like a cross between entering a student common room and a computer nerd convention. One member sits tinkering with what looks like the electronic entrails of a VHS player, another is working on intricate laser cut card stencils and many are engrossed in their laptops whilst distractedly sipping from beer cans. Downstairs in the subterranean wood and metal workshop polystyrene shavings scatter the floor around a man carving a giant skull in preparation of turning it into a mirror-tile-clad misshapen disco ball. He pauses and smiles at us musing "It keeps me out of trouble, keeps me out of the pub".

Fast forward six months and I finally sign up as a member a few days into the new year. I make my way on my bicycle loaded with wood pieces that I want to 'hack'. My project ideas mostly involve hacking Ikea furniture - customising it and turning it into something other than its original intended use (this website gives you a good idea of what I'm talking about: http://www.ikeahackers.net/). My ideas are all very lo-fi in comparison to the ambitious and technically advanced projects others are engaged in. Basically, I want to cut, drill and sand wood. Simple pleasures.

I find my way into the building through the rear entrance and accost the first person I see to get my entry card activated, something that any member can help with. He obliges and it works without a hitch. As I make my way downstairs to the wood workshop I feel like the new girl at school, out of place and foreign, a feeling heightened by the glaring fact that I haven't seen a single other female in the building - this is an unashamedly male dominated community. I remind myself this is the point of this blog, to not let myself be fazed by new experiences, and take a deep breath.

'The Dusty Wood Shop', an offshoot of the main workshop area, is in darkness. I try to figure out which light switch is relevant, in the process plunging the other three members who are working away into darkness. "Sorry!" I exclaim feeling very naively girly, thankful that no-one had been operating a heavy-duty saw or welding set, which might have resulted in my ditsy mistake getting me banned on my first day at the Hackspace. After a little probing, experimentation and inquiry I manage to do the woodwork I had planned to do.

Generally - and speaking from my limited experience - people are friendly, curious to know what projects others are working on and helpful with advice. There is an element of cliquishness, but no more than you would expect from any similar micro-society, it is surely inevitable. Mostly, members are introverted, quietly focused individuals and, most refreshingly for East London, the antithesis of the pretentious hipster. Working in the fashion industry, as I do, this comes as a hugely welcome antidote to what I am used to. The London Hackspace provides a platform for the enthusiastic, unique and often strange ideas of the unpretentious, non-trendy types of this city, and that is what makes it what it is.

My plan is to make regular visits to the space, learn to use machines that are new to me such as the woodwork router and laser cutter. I have signed up to the mailing list where dates for laser cutting training are regularly posted. In the meantime I am exposed to a barrage of posts from various Hackspace members - though they seem mostly to come from the same ten people who, to put it lightly, seem to have a lot to get off their chests. Email notifications stream into my inbox about storage boxes, machinery and most controversially, the recently-deceased microwave which seems to be the source of much angst, frustration and dispute. I suspect the most vehement posts come from the quietest, geekiest people I see milling around the building, but I'll leave that suspicion unconfirmed and get on with the simple pleasures of woodwork.

Behold the Turtle

We all have aspirations for the future, dreams of learning French or Spanish, mastering the cello or flute or throwing ourselves into an obscure martial art. Seemingly distant ideas that make for fun conversation but are mostly at the parameters of our minds, shelved as too expensive, inconvenient or time-consuming. So, for the most part, these ideas stay firmly where they are: as conversations in pubs and we continue to stay in a routine that gets us by. If, like me, you live in London you will recognise the overriding truism that everyone is just so damn busy all of the time. This makes for an easy excuse for postponing those pottery lessons, yoga classes and writing that first novel. Life is messy and busy and chaotic, but it will always be so and by acknowledging this, I plan to challenge my inner procrastinator and stick my neck out like the proverbial turtle that gives this blog its name:

Behold the turtle. He makes progress only when he sticks his neck out - James Bryant Conant

This is my pledge for the coming year: to try at least one new activity or class per month throughout the year and then write about it here. Publishing my endeavours serves two purposes: 

1) I have always enjoyed writing and have been thinking of a way to get back into it for months.

2) It keeps me accountable to readers of the blog, which in turn keeps me motivated to continue.

So far, my open-ended list of potential ideas comprises the following:

* Try a hula hooping class

* Go wild swimming in Royal Docks (one for the summer, I should add...)

* Join Hackspace - a community-run workshop in Hackney - and actually use it to learn laser cutting and other skills

* Do some kind of volunteer work

* Try a laughter workshop

* Go canoeing on the Thames

* Learn to swim front crawl

* Do a sourdough baking class
* Do some writing for a local website

There are many varied ideas swimming around in my mind. Some will be longer projects, ongoing throughout the year while others are one-off diversions. I anticipate some waning enthusiasm in the coming weeks and months as my current eagerness subsides and the lure of Netflix beckons on dark wintry nights (in fact I have almost given up several times since starting this post!) but this is all part of my wanderings through the year.

To kick start my pledge I have booked myself into a two day woodwork class to make a wood stool. All sounds very wholesome and rewarding. More words and photos to follow soon...