Last Saturday night Stuart and I went to experience three events at the annual Vaults Festival in London's glitzy Waterloo.
You’re in a tight, shipping container. By yourself. In a wheelchair. It’s pitch black. With lots of smoke. And then 7 other people emerge from the gloom. Who have weird clothes, makeup and masks on. And there's music. And various LED torches. With a lot of white netting. And lots of modern interpretive dance moves. There's a complete disregard for personal body space. And a surreal dance script about Salvador Dalí and his sister. A plot about birth and death. And it's over in 15 minutes. That.
All-female street-based immersive theatre. Set in Purgatory. Four Horse(wo)men. A quest to find a name. And a surprise hidden story of LGBT immigration.
Frida Kahlo: Viva la Vida!
One woman show on Frida’s life. A bit weird. A bit uneven. But she sat on Stuart’s knee and called him Trotsky so my evening was complete.
The Vaults Festival is amazing. So much to do and see. A sort of Edinburgh-type arts festival but in London. Cheap too.