Ah! St Paul’s area on a Saturday morning is peaceful. Into The Wren Suite we filed although the ticket said “The Churchyard”. Who kens?
What a technological treat and feat is that project. I wanted to ask how the American project academics engaged with people local to themselves as I suspect there were crowds of volunteers aka white posh drawl inflected interns doing much of the drone work.. Could be wrong, eh? Was never invited to ask about the real practicalities of a cross Atlantic piece of wizardry as the event MC wanted us out before time. Shoot. I’d already been gunned down by groans when I had remarked that the visuals I was seeing didn’t make me feel part of the place (“this is where you are”) as only one gender seemed to be represented in the prologue and the material.
As f0r John Donne, poet of fleas and sensuousness, he took bottom rung in what it is really all about; presenting theatre-history in a Google library.
Now to Google to the website and listen to two hours of an actor reading Donne’s Gunpowder Sermon in a right Northern accent, complete with a backdrop of bird-song, doggy woofs and sounds surmised. In real life we could hear a police siren outside.