I recently watched the film Anna Karenina and adored the way it was all filmed in a theatre to represent the way rich people of the time were seen to be acting. With this idea playing on my mind I visited an exhibition at my school and a small box caught my eye: you had to look through two eye pieces which revealed a room with a nose as the table, lips as a sofa and two paintings as the eyes. It also had stage curtains before it.
These two ideas are where this piece comes from, I wanted to make it elaborate and written in the style of a play script.
Enjoy....
Through the Eyes
Let us pretend we’re tiny little dolls
Made out of china
and lace
Let us imagine we
play in a room:
We lounge in a
chair of lips
And drink from a
nose of a table
My two paintings make
up its eyes;
They really are my
favourite
Act one: The face room
“Mariella!”
The shrill rolling voice chimes around the sky blue corridors followed by an
endless rhythm of fast little high-heeled feet. The irritating tapping draws
ever closer to the slumbers of Mariella.
Fling,
tap, tip, tap, tip, groan, fling! Bright sun dances with the curtain dust,
which had just been so rudely interrupted. Sunshine spotlights a serene girl
spread lavishly upon red lips, the silk and lace of her dress seeming to float
about her. “Miss Juliana, really.” Suddenly awake she flings an open gesture
towards a pursed maid.
“It
is eleven o’clock Mariella and you really aught to be up.” Her voice rises and
falls like a swooping swallow, but has an edge to it stuck like nails on black
boards.
“Oh
but really, isn’t it just lovely in here? Don’t you just want to stay here all
day?” Mariella gracefully flings herself back down causing her dress to make a
satisfying ‘poof’.
‘Yes,
and didn’t you just stay in here all of last night? I felt your loud music failed
to coordinate with my sleep patterns.”
Aghast,
“but I thought you loved that play? It is your favourite, you know with all the
tiny men that play the-“
“Harpsichords, and very loudly.”
“Oh
lets have it again, as it’s your favourite after all!” Standing she begins to
waft around the wooden floor calling in a honeysuckle voice, “Oh my fine,
handsome actors that entertained me so last night, your duty has been redeemed
as this old lady would like to hear your play!”
“I
am not old Mariella and I certainly do not want to hear this play, that I have
heard enough off.” Her lips have now become so very tight that Mariella begins to
wonder if any air could past through them and how much so it would spoil such a
fine day if Miss Juliana were to die due to over pursing. But this thought is
very quickly shooed to the side when a precession of colourful people enter
upon the room.
The
first carries a large, splendid platter of fruit. Some boringly recognisable
and some so rare they are locked away in glass cabinets across the world.
The
second carries a rather oversized bowl of pink punch decorated with large cubes
of ice carved into people’s faces (one of Mariella’s favourite games: ‘If looks could freeze’ in which it is
customary to guess the name of the ice-cubed face).
The
third carries an extravagantly and expensively iced cake that subsequently
breaks off into extravagantly and expensively iced cup cakes.
And
this man is where the food stops and the actors commence, each small (as
desired) and wearing a different colour suit, standing together and in the
correct order they make up the rainbow; each also carries an oversized
harpsichord of a different colour to their suit, which make up the colours of a
backward rainbow when they stand in congregation.
Quickly
and effectively the front of the room is turned into a small stage, Mariella
and an irate maid sit together on the lips. Food is served.
“Oh
breakfast! I sure am starved.” Mariella’s hand begins to play upon the tops of
the platters eyeing unfamiliar delicacies suspiciously. “And what is this?”
“This madam is the rarest of raspberries from the
depths of the Sibe-“
“And
what is this?” This carries on until all the fruit has been named, each
explanation being cut of half way through. After each has been explored a
decision is finally made on what breakfast will be. Mariella turns away from
the fruit, disgusted, she picks up a pink cup cake, which happens to be the
same colour as her dress. “Well you know what my dear old Aunt Marie used to
say: ‘if there’s nothing to eat let them eat cake’!”
The
play is a short one that is often performed on repeat, like an irritating song
that always finds a way to get stuck in your head. It consists of seven small
men who are each highly skilled on a harpsichord. They act out a play of song,
dance and music on the subject of unrequited love. The play is entitled My Love Sick Aunt, from which you can
probably gather it is about Miss Juliana herself, the reasoning to why Mariella
thinks it to be her favourite. In actual fact it is her least as she loathes to
be reminded of the love she once felt for a chef of the castle and the
demolishing way he failed to love her back. Though to anyone else it is simple
light entertainment.
Tick,
tick, tick. “Oh I am so very bored and I do wish that clock would stop ticking
as it is reminding me of my boredom.”
“Well
what do you wish to do Mariella?”
“I
haven’t the faintest idea, that is why you’re here is it not? To tell me what
to do?”
“In
which case I think a costume change as Monsieur tous le Pommes is coming this
evening for the ball.”
“Ah
yes, I have the most splendid idea; I shall dress as an apple to match his
name, won’t that be quaint?”
Dryly,
“very.”
The
lights dramatically (and rather irritatingly) dim on the room.
Act two: The Apple Ball
“Dorriss!”
This persistent voice never ceases to terrorise such a busy palace, “Dorriss
the apples are bruised, why are the apples bruised?” Miss Juliana’s heels
cascade down the ornate stairs.
A
tall, precisely dressed butler side steps into her bee-line, hair plastered
across his brow matching a twirling moustache painted above his lips. “Why,
they are only bruised on one side and only one bunch.” His French tones roll
into an uptight Miss Juliana.
“They
are bruised and everything for tonight must be perfect. Mariella is hoping to
be married tonight.” These last words carry weight and severity, emphasised by
perfect scrutinizing eyes.
“Madame
if the apples bother you that much they will be changed.” Clap! Clap! “Men,
more apples!”
“Oh
don’t you think I’m going to look splendid just splendid Miss Juliana?” A
surprised seamstress turns from the wired up Mariella, astonished at how
quickly Miss Juliana can get around the castle.
Mariella
is standing directly in front of the small window, casting a light shadow. She
wears a bodice that a lady is furiously tightening and is currently showcasing
a series of tort cords that are momentarily being twisted and bent into the
very life like silhouette of an apple. Different shades of green and red silks
are strewn across the table, Miss Juliana is currently examining them.
“Which
do you think? Red or green apple?”
“I’m
really not sure Mariella.”
“Well
I was thinking that green was more bubbly and lively, but red far more
passionate; which do you think Monsieur tous le Pommes would prefer?”
Leaving,
“The French are known for their passion…”
Tout tout, tout tour, la la la la la la, tout tout,
tout tou, la la la la la, tout tout, tout tout.
An
array of dancing smocks twirl across an over decorated floor, bobbing and
skipping to a familiar tune. Tall white wigs dotted with fruit meet voluptuous
gowns by pressing palms. Twirling and laughter fill the great hall. Freeze
frame.
Heads
turn in unison to Mariella dramatically posed at the top of the stairs. “Ladies
and gentleman, the princess of the Palace.” A light applaud commences as
Mariella descends the stairs, looking uncannily like a graceful apple (as much
as apples can have grace).
On
reaching the bottom of the stairs the applause turns to red smiling lips as a
tall man dressed in a white and black striped suit approaches her. “Ah madam,
stars do not sparkle as much as you do in this dress.”
Ha
ha. “Oh don’t you flatter Monsieur tous les Pommes.”
Interval, enjoy the
ice cream…
