SPLUTTER Manifesto
SPLUTTER THEATRE BELIEVES IN MUNDANE.
A cup of tea. A council Flat. A Village Fete. A greasy spoon. Sex. Sitting in Bed watching Jeremy Kyle. Reality TV. Pornography.
You are sitting alone again as the sun begins to set there is a soft red glow seeping through the cracks in your dirty curtain you have been here for many hours and all you can hear is the tick of the clock on the wall above your bed you have done this a thousand times a million times you have been doing this for your whole life and you know that this is your selfish hell
Splutter Theatre Believes In Grotesque.
Push it further. Make it filthier. Subtext is a lie. Painted Face. Stretched muscles. Taut.
The man with the white face grimaces as he looks across at you there is black ooze pouring from his eyes and his teeth are cracked he is the one that you love you love more than you have ever loved you can feel your heart rise as the vomit taints your mouth with bitter bile he approaches you softly gently he is dancing
SPLUTTER THEATRE BELIEVES IN BEAUTY
The pissed up lass drinking lambrini outside spoons. The fox eating a decaying crow. the stars. The old man who masturbates to feel a connection. The gay soldier. the chicken shop worker. The fighter. The slut. The Saint. Fingers pressed to lips. Cunts. Cocks. Death. Elegance. Dreams.
The stars bleed out over the sky tiny pin pricks of light each one glowing faintly with the history of infinity you have been in this car park before you have smelt the leeching smoke of lost cigarettes you have heard the rumble of traffic coming from beneath you but this time you know that you will jump
Splutter Theatre Believes in Ugly
Sweat. Dirt. Piss. Blood. The decaying crow eating a fox. The feeling of masturbating an old man. The lass drinking piss.
Her body is twisted out of shape and her knuckles are bruised you look at her through the mirror and can see that she is crying hot steam rises from her naked flesh and her mouth is shaking as she drags the last cancer from her cigarette you wish you could kiss her but she is too far away and you know if you did it would kill you both
Splutter Theatre Believes in Provocation
Discomfort. The flashing of the exit sign. Offence. Destruction. Subversion. Racism. Homophobia. Sexism.
you've heard that sound before the sound of fist on flesh the sound of lost souls he has shaved his head and painted crucifixes on his body in blood it is not his blood but hers she has brain damage she was born that way and sometimes he just cant help himself when alcohol soaks his brain and the haze of what could have beens destroy his vision
Splutter Theatre Believes in Perverts
Watching. Waiting. Hard. Wet.
Her dress is torn he is a bull and the butterflies they spent so long staring at lie dead around them there is the hot smell of semen and you cant help but peek at her as she lies legs splayed body frayed her skin cut by gravel and he licks at her wounds they have cut this flesh together time and time again
Splutter Theatre Believes in Affect
Nauseous. There is a twitch that starts from your stomach. Something is wrong. Maybe it's you.
Your fingers inch through the hole in his chest and you can feel his heart beating slimy and wet you push your fingers on his organ hard and fast cutting through the tendons with dirty fingernails you know that this is what depression feels like as your body goes limp and the rain washes away the vomit from your lips
Splutter Theatre believes in Spaces
A warehouse. A broken down van. A prison cell. A church. A strip club.
The smell of dust and you know that lurking just out of reach she is crying out the loss she has felt you begin to eat the stones on the floor as your teeth snap from your mouth there is a window covered over by a union jack and the termites that have eaten away the pews begin to burrow through your skin
Splutter Believes in Autonomy
You are you. You will hate us. You will love us. Fuck the government. Fuck the man you've been wanting to fuck. Eat meat. Wear fur. Destroy buildings. Sleep. Eat. Run until your legs give way.
You set fire to the house that you grew up in and watch as the memories of your past slip away smoke against the full moon you breathe in deeply inhale the sharp tangy night air as you realise that for the first time you are truly ecstatic or maybe you're drunk its difficult to tell the difference anymore
Above All....
SPLUTTER THEATRE BELIEVES IN THE POWER OF WATCHING.
A cup of tea. A council Flat. A Village Fete. A greasy spoon. Sex. Sitting in Bed watching Jeremy Kyle. Reality TV. Pornography.
You are sitting alone again as the sun begins to set there is a soft red glow seeping through the cracks in your dirty curtain you have been here for many hours and all you can hear is the tick of the clock on the wall above your bed you have done this a thousand times a million times you have been doing this for your whole life and you know that this is your selfish hell
Splutter Theatre Believes In Grotesque.
Push it further. Make it filthier. Subtext is a lie. Painted Face. Stretched muscles. Taut.
The man with the white face grimaces as he looks across at you there is black ooze pouring from his eyes and his teeth are cracked he is the one that you love you love more than you have ever loved you can feel your heart rise as the vomit taints your mouth with bitter bile he approaches you softly gently he is dancing
SPLUTTER THEATRE BELIEVES IN BEAUTY
The pissed up lass drinking lambrini outside spoons. The fox eating a decaying crow. the stars. The old man who masturbates to feel a connection. The gay soldier. the chicken shop worker. The fighter. The slut. The Saint. Fingers pressed to lips. Cunts. Cocks. Death. Elegance. Dreams.
The stars bleed out over the sky tiny pin pricks of light each one glowing faintly with the history of infinity you have been in this car park before you have smelt the leeching smoke of lost cigarettes you have heard the rumble of traffic coming from beneath you but this time you know that you will jump
Splutter Theatre Believes in Ugly
Sweat. Dirt. Piss. Blood. The decaying crow eating a fox. The feeling of masturbating an old man. The lass drinking piss.
Her body is twisted out of shape and her knuckles are bruised you look at her through the mirror and can see that she is crying hot steam rises from her naked flesh and her mouth is shaking as she drags the last cancer from her cigarette you wish you could kiss her but she is too far away and you know if you did it would kill you both
Splutter Theatre Believes in Provocation
Discomfort. The flashing of the exit sign. Offence. Destruction. Subversion. Racism. Homophobia. Sexism.
you've heard that sound before the sound of fist on flesh the sound of lost souls he has shaved his head and painted crucifixes on his body in blood it is not his blood but hers she has brain damage she was born that way and sometimes he just cant help himself when alcohol soaks his brain and the haze of what could have beens destroy his vision
Splutter Theatre Believes in Perverts
Watching. Waiting. Hard. Wet.
Her dress is torn he is a bull and the butterflies they spent so long staring at lie dead around them there is the hot smell of semen and you cant help but peek at her as she lies legs splayed body frayed her skin cut by gravel and he licks at her wounds they have cut this flesh together time and time again
Splutter Theatre Believes in Affect
Nauseous. There is a twitch that starts from your stomach. Something is wrong. Maybe it's you.
Your fingers inch through the hole in his chest and you can feel his heart beating slimy and wet you push your fingers on his organ hard and fast cutting through the tendons with dirty fingernails you know that this is what depression feels like as your body goes limp and the rain washes away the vomit from your lips
Splutter Theatre believes in Spaces
A warehouse. A broken down van. A prison cell. A church. A strip club.
The smell of dust and you know that lurking just out of reach she is crying out the loss she has felt you begin to eat the stones on the floor as your teeth snap from your mouth there is a window covered over by a union jack and the termites that have eaten away the pews begin to burrow through your skin
Splutter Believes in Autonomy
You are you. You will hate us. You will love us. Fuck the government. Fuck the man you've been wanting to fuck. Eat meat. Wear fur. Destroy buildings. Sleep. Eat. Run until your legs give way.
You set fire to the house that you grew up in and watch as the memories of your past slip away smoke against the full moon you breathe in deeply inhale the sharp tangy night air as you realise that for the first time you are truly ecstatic or maybe you're drunk its difficult to tell the difference anymore
Above All....
SPLUTTER THEATRE BELIEVES IN THE POWER OF WATCHING.
WHO ARE WE?
Based in East London, Splutter was founded by Benedict Hudson in 2012 from alumni and undergraduates of Queen Mary University and operates as a creative collaboration between young devisers, actors and performance artists. Through new writing, work-shopping, performance art, and interventions, Splutter aims to develop work which is as viscerally engaging as it is discomfiting. Influenced by the avant-garde new writing of the ‘90s, Splutter Theatre aims to polarise the community, creating discourse on the state of the world and art itself.
In February 2013, Splutter’s first full-length production, Bruised, was performed at the Pinter Studio of Queen Mary University. Set in a war-torn future Britain, eight performers presented a series of harrowing vignettes, culminating in a confrontational deconstruction of the role of the audience as passive spectators. As compelling as it was uncompromising, Bruised offered a particularly challenging theatrical experience, eliciting walk-outs as well as an ovation. Taking forward this episodic structure, … And Other Bitter Things comprises of a set of stylised duologues on the theme of love and loss, across the widest of ranges of human experience; from idealistic young lovers, to a mother and child, to two perverts under a bridge. Performed at the Pinter Studio in February of 2014, … And Other Bitter Things cemented several experimental concepts into a definite Splutter aesthetic, including the use of an original, distorted soundtrack, monochrome costumes and set (including the company’s now trademark white face paint), and a performance style which juxtaposes the naturalistic with the grotesque.
Splutter is employed these features in the development of a new production for Edinburgh Fringe 2014, entitled Old Gristle; a dark comedy set within the rural no-man’s-land, where a village fete is hosted around a deathbed. This project expanded Splutter as both a company and a practice: bringing in six new members and translating our performance style for new platforms, from festival installations to fete-themed club nights.
Splutter is currently being supported by RICHMIX London in the development of 3 new pieces for their Small Story/Big City season.
Splutter Theatre is keen to continue creating work that, through collaboration and the creation of a holistic aesthetic, is capable of finding the beautiful in the ugly, and the ugly in the idyllic.
In February 2013, Splutter’s first full-length production, Bruised, was performed at the Pinter Studio of Queen Mary University. Set in a war-torn future Britain, eight performers presented a series of harrowing vignettes, culminating in a confrontational deconstruction of the role of the audience as passive spectators. As compelling as it was uncompromising, Bruised offered a particularly challenging theatrical experience, eliciting walk-outs as well as an ovation. Taking forward this episodic structure, … And Other Bitter Things comprises of a set of stylised duologues on the theme of love and loss, across the widest of ranges of human experience; from idealistic young lovers, to a mother and child, to two perverts under a bridge. Performed at the Pinter Studio in February of 2014, … And Other Bitter Things cemented several experimental concepts into a definite Splutter aesthetic, including the use of an original, distorted soundtrack, monochrome costumes and set (including the company’s now trademark white face paint), and a performance style which juxtaposes the naturalistic with the grotesque.
Splutter is employed these features in the development of a new production for Edinburgh Fringe 2014, entitled Old Gristle; a dark comedy set within the rural no-man’s-land, where a village fete is hosted around a deathbed. This project expanded Splutter as both a company and a practice: bringing in six new members and translating our performance style for new platforms, from festival installations to fete-themed club nights.
Splutter is currently being supported by RICHMIX London in the development of 3 new pieces for their Small Story/Big City season.
Splutter Theatre is keen to continue creating work that, through collaboration and the creation of a holistic aesthetic, is capable of finding the beautiful in the ugly, and the ugly in the idyllic.
SPLUTTER
INSPIRATION
Our primary inspiration has been the In-Yer-Face movement of the '90s, writers like Sarah Kane and Mark Ravenhill inspired us to create directly challenging theatre. However we felt that in many ways these writers still allowed an audience to watch passively, so we took our lead from companies like Belt-Up and their inescapably immersive style to create a hybrid. We are also fascinated by stylised and unnatural performance, we are big fans of Clout Theatre company, and have taken inspiration from their bouffant style, creating performance that is unsettling in its distance from the audience expectation of narrative performance. We are greatly influenced by current writers like Andrew Sheridan, and his ability to create real world dystopias, that examine human interaction to keep it firmly rooted in real life, and Anthony Neilson, and his episodic, non linear style in recent works like 'Narrative'.