The realities of everyday life were part of this year's Baboró children's festival, and now its organisers want more recogni tion for children's art, writes Lorna Siggins
T hree bears and a little girl called Goldilocks were preparing for the stage in Galway's Town Hall Theatre last week, when a crowd began to build. Consisting solely of adults, including a number of photographers, the theatre's morning schedule may have barely registered with them as they gathered by the courthouse, facing the theatre building.
Tension mounted as teachers and organisers of Baboró, the international arts festival for children, shepherded a group of schoolchildren through. Several minutes afterwards, a Garda escort arrived and a 27-year-old city resident was led handcuffed up the steps, to be charged with the murder of Swiss student Manuela Riedo.
The young visitors were by then safely inside, captivated by Miriam Lambert's puppets and oblivious to the commotion, the shouts, the applause for the gardaí outside. What they wouldn't have missed was the sense of shame and even despair that had, and still has, enveloped Galway since the young language student met her death on October 8th.
"We did out best to protect the children from it," Lali Morris, programme director for Baboró, which is now in its 11th year, says.
Yet, as with so many of her colleagues weaving a week of magic, her thoughts were with two parents in Switzerland, marking the inexplicable death of their only child. In a remarkable counterpoint, images of balloons released over the village of Wohlen at Manuela's funeral service last Friday morning would not have been out of place at a children's festival. In Galway, life in all its harshness and richness had to continue, with both richness and reality very much a part of this year's Baboró programme.
AS WITH SO many early morning bundles in doorways, Peter Rinderknecht's farmer sleeping under a blanket in the corner of NUI Galway's Bank of Ireland theatre could have been dead or alive. As conveyed in Minor Matters, from Junges Ensemble Stuttgart, the same farmer's life had lost much of its meaning when he and his wife and family became obsessed with material wealth.
Rinderknecht, master of comic timing, feeds his young audience enough clues to relate his story, but also penetrates what a critic back in his home base of Stuttgart has described as the "fourth wall".
Adults are encouraged to make as many suggestions, and to suffer the disapproving eyebrows and giggles of Rinderknecht's young accomplices. Last Saturday, an unfortunate father, who couldn't tell the difference between a John Deere or a Massey Ferguson, slumped his shoulders with good humour as he was dismissed as "tractor" for the rest of the show.
Similarly, subtle engagement is employed by Det Fortaellende Teater of Denmark for its seventh-century tale of Beowulf and ugly Grendel, the fetid 500lb troll. "We were on a Viking ship!" exclaimed one senior infant as he emerged from the Black Box Theatre.
The negative impacts of war and strife, environmental degradation and materialism were themes of several of the international and national productions, while Scottish company Ydance worked hard to recreate the perils faced by Prince Breakan in the roaring whirlpool of Corryvreckan. Not everyone was quite convinced, with some rustling, restless audiences.
"Corryvreckan was challenging," Lali Morris agrees. "But even if that's the only time some of those children go to dance, it's well worth the exposure." She admits to having been very apprehensive about another dance booking - the Baby Rave, staged by Belfast's Young at Art in Leisureland, Salthill.
Presented with a DJ, lights and projections, the venue was also fitted out with soft cushions, mats, silks, sensory toys, plenty of trained volunteers and even a nappy changing corner.
"We still weren't sure if it was going to fly when one happy parent assured us that it was the best place to go clubbing in town last weekend!" Morris says.
THE BABORÓ SPOTLIGHT was on Denmark this year, the home to more than 120 children's theatres. The Danish de Lilleturneteater presented Kling Klang, recycling and refashioning bike frames, dustbins, water taps into musical instruments. Danish practitioner Peter Manscher was invited to speak about "shared victories and defeats", about how Denmark's approach extends to free admission for young audiences.
That drive to "raise the bar" for children's arts, both here and elsewhere, will be central to the international conference that Baboró is planning next year in Galway. Tomás Hardiman, former managing director of Galway Arts Centre, will be working on the conference. Morris, who is drawing up the programme element, is loath to reveal too much at this stage.
"Ireland is now recognising the importance of the arts for children, but there is a lingering perception that it isn't a viable art form," she says.
"Yet you look at the success of Irish theatre groups working with this genre," she says, referring to Galway's Branar, Cups and Crowns, or the Blue Teapot Theatre Company, which emerged as a result of a Brothers of Charity drama project for adults with learning disabilities.
"There's a whole world out there, which Baboró is now a very respected part of and we would like to inspire more Irish artists," she adds.
For example Macnas, now 21 years old but in a state of flux, hasn't been part of Baboró since a co-production in 2001.
"We were lucky that so many members of Macnas were around last week and involved," she notes diplomatically. "We think we might have given them a few ideas! Let's say we want to put out a dynamic - a grand intention - and let's see what we get back!"
