Read more on Hansel & Gretel – Homeward Bound, Emma Rice on Hansel & Gretel from the Kneehigh Cookbook archive.
When Kneehigh was born, I was smack bang in the middle of secondary school, biding my time, waiting for life to begin.
Kneehigh was 5 years old when I left home to go to Drama School. My dad put me in the car, drove south down the M1 and deposited me in London. I hoped I would walk in the footprints of many great actors before me.
When Kneehigh was 8, I walked out of college and into the Job Centre. After a year of next to nothing, I struck clotted cream and found myself on a train heading south again to Devon to tell stories.
When Kneehigh was 11, I migrated to Poland where I ran through forests, sang, danced, worked through the night and felt more home sick than I had in my entire life. I felt turned inside out and worried whether I could fit in anywhere anymore.
When Kneehigh was 8, I walked out of college and into the Job Centre. After a year of next to nothing, I struck clotted cream and found myself on a train heading south again to Devon to tell stories.
When Kneehigh was 14, I found myself on yet another train heading even further south. I was met at St Austell station by a big, red van, and was driven down seemingly endless, ever narrowing lanes towards Gorran Haven.
As if I hadn’t travelled far enough, we swooped out of the village, up an impossibly steep hill and stopped at the end of the road. I was at the Kneehigh Barns. This magical, secret, shambolic haven felt like the end of the land and I decided to stop searching for the next place to journey to.
Kneehigh was the sexiest, funniest, wildest band of brigands that I had ever seen or met! They were weather beaten and wiry, a little bit dirty and so, so naughty. They lit fires and sang songs, played pipes and partied until dawn. They were skilled and passionate, energetic and maverick. I knew from that first moment that here was a place where I could find asylum and freedom. I was intoxicated and remain so to this day.
Of course, nothing happens immediately. We all had lots to learn. This band of theatre pirates taught me how to clown and subvert, how to let go of my fears and jump in. I, in turn, taught them to settle and allow the work to sink deeper and deeper into their skins and souls. And blow me!
I found I wasn’t walking in anybody’s footsteps – I was striding out with a band of cohorts with nothing but a cheeky disregard for all the paths trodden.
But wait. Perhaps we weren’t completely alone. There are some footsteps around us, some tracks in front of us… some of the prints, our foot falls happily alongside, and some we skirt gently, fondly, respectfully around… there’s Footsbarn‘s imprint and Lorca‘s, Joan Littlewood’s and Pina Bausch‘s, Charles Causley‘s and Ariane Mnouchkine‘s. Footfalls I never even knew existed when I sat, pink and shiny, in that Nottingham school a lifetime ago. Sometimes I feel I am walking through my dreams.
Kneehigh is now 29. I am still here. We are still here. We are all still here. Still creating wonders, still learning. We have seen each other get married and have babies, divorce, run away and return. This priceless treasure trove of hman connection and shared passion would still exist if Kneehigh ended tomorrow. We have made a mark on Cornwall, the people we have met on our travels, and each other.
In Kneehigh, I have found home, and in many different ways I think we have all found home.
Hansel & Gretel is a show about home, about the need for it, the quest for it and the loss of it. Home sometimes presents itself in the most surprising of forms and at the most surprising of times. Keep looking and keep an eye out for those who want to take it from you, the world can be full of sugary imitations. Once more work of advice – when you find it, never let go!
Emma Rice, 2009.
