My Love Letter to 'a dinner with gravity'

"Created on two principles: 1g = 1L (He), and "If you feed them, they will be happy", a dinner with gravity is a work that feeds the heart and stomach; revelling in the beauty of food, the warmth of good conversation, and the laws of gravity." - a dinner with gravity.

I can't wait for people to experience this (Source: La Boite).

It was announced sometime last month that due to some conflicts, La Boite's original line-up for the annual Indie season had to be slightly altered - the original scheduled piece, Netta Yaschin's psychotic moral thriller with deranged nuns I Only Came to Use the Phone, unfortunately had to drop out. So instead, its place would be filled with two concurrent pieces - Motherboard Productions' La Voix Humaine, and Sarah Winter's a dinner with gravity.

Sarah's visions are something out of a dream, and the installations she creates are unfathomably beautiful. They're surreal and ethereal, and you leave thinking that you've just lived a real-life fairytale (without any of those pesky holier-than-thou moral messages and deaths of the wicked thrown in). This creation is no different, where participants are invited to join in a fanciful and enchanting sit-down dinner, where food is suspended in the air around them via helium balloons. Accompanied by a menu which details thoughts and suggestions to feed the conversation, the evening comes alive through interaction and interpretation.

I can't explain how much I adore this show. I had the chance to see Sarah Winter's piece last August, and I got to help out as a crew member with the process in February this year. It's going to be a blitz bump-in next week and then it's going to consume my life over about 2 weeks, but it's so worth it since I can't wait for everyone to experience it.

I was originally going to write this as a bit of promotion, but as I was writing this article tickets sold out! On that note, for every gram of food suspended in this experience, we'll need one litre of helium. So to serve a party of 18, we'll need a lot of helium. There will be no obligation for anyone to pay extra, but if you'd like to help out further, consider a small donation? Money would go towards helium and would help cut down the cost of the production (and may in future help us reduce ticket prices). Send Sarah and the team some love to help us realise this incredible floating feast experience a dinner with gravity on Pozible. You won't regret helping to bring this magic to life!

To those who missed out on getting a ticket this time - perhaps we'll meet in the future? But to those who have tickets - thank you, and I really hope you love the show as much as I do.

Tickets for Sarah Winter's a dinner with gravity are $28, and is showing at La Boite Theatre Company from June 27th until July 7th. Duration of approximately 60 minutes

Helping to Suspend Dinner.

Last week I had the chance to help in the process of creating a unique theatrical experience that was curated by Sarah Winter. Dinner With Gravity ran for just under two hours on Saturday evening for 12 guests at The Studio, at QUT. Just thought I'd reflect on how cool it was and how much fun it was to be a part of the process, and if the work does resurface somewhere, I'd really encourage you to go.

Ironically, tying knots was really important and I can't do them properly - watch me tie my shoes oneday and you'll probably step back and say "Oh my . . .  what did you just do?". I don't know how I'd gotten through life so far without needing to tie knots, but the truth came out and I was exposed for the sham I am. The week consisted of rigging up lights, fire retarding (tee hee) materials, carrying heavy booms and equipment, and a lot of moving stuff. The best thing about the whole process is that in the bump-out I used a lot of the skills I'd picked up from my Cert III, so it was pretty gratifying to see that I could still use and apply those skills. I felt the most out of place since I was the youngest and at times I didn't really know what the fuck I was doing, but it was a great learning process. We all worked really hard - I knew that Kat was exhausted and beyond the point of return when she asked me to tie a balloon to a pole then fell over in a heap while laughing when she realised I couldn't tie knots.

I adored the end result. We had a few seconds to take it in after the mad end rush before the session began. The room had the charm of something out of a fairytale. The focal point was the center of the room was over a hundred white and black balloons floating above the the seating area, three tables of different size and make were in the center of the room on top of some (hideous) plush rugs, and the surrounding floor was covered by large crunchy leaves. The tables (in addition to the air around) were covered with gourmet food including floating strawberries and cream, rice-paper rolls, mini quiches and other canapés with creme fraiche and these badass cupcakes from The Cupcake Parlor (I think it's around West End). Suspended above the table was a hand tied twine net and hanging from it was a white sheet canopy that had more leaves threaded throughout which gave it this empyreal wood-nymphesque vibe.

There was wine, coffee, and different varieties of teabags hanging off balloons - that's probably one of the most ingenious parts of the show. You pour yourself a cup of boiling water, then as you place the cup below the teabag, the moisture in the teabag pulls the balloon down (. . . that's what she said . . .). There are so many little things like that in the show, and I wish everyone will get to see it someday. I felt a little aloof at the end of the night due to a few things, but the main factor was the sad realisation that, like last time, it had to end. Especially considering the amount of effort that was put into the week long preparation, it's sad that something so beautiful can only be enjoyed so briefly! At the start of the week I'd said that I was so glad that the process was continuing, and I think it's got such grand potential. Inside the room it honestly made me think like there was no other world outside and I don't think I've ever enjoyed helping out so much.

We blitzed through the bump-out, sort of. The ratio of 4 hours to bump-out in comparison to around 5 days of set up seemed blitzy to me. I felt a little disappointed that I'd been involved with the process from the beginning and I was going to miss the end of it because it takes around 2 hours to get home and that meant I'd have to leave at the end. Sarah came to the rescue and rectified that, and I got to stay around to help finish. One of my fondest memories from uni so far was the crew sitting around in a circle exhausted, but chatting about random bullshit and eating the left-over gourmet cupcakes.

Sarah Winter presents the Floating Feast

Regrettably I have no photos of this event, but that just makes it feel even more cotton-pickin' exclusive.

I just got back from seeing Sarah Winter's second instalment of La Boite Scratch, and it was fucking fantastic! It was downright delightful - a personal, interactive and inherently original experience.

Initially, each person is given a personalised letter to read, and then led towards the dinner. The reveal of the room was perfect. Walking in from the drizzling rain outside into room's cosy and intimate atmosphere was awesome - in the warm the lighting was a soft plain wash that shined on the table and there was a soft, ambient piano track looped in the background. In the centre was the table, ready and set for our arrival, laced with tasty finger food which balanced, defying gravity, above off monochrome balloons.

After our Zooey Deschanel look-a-like hostess seated us down and welcomed us, we were challenged to maintain the plates at their height while taking food and replacing it with other objects and food, while simultaneously engaging in activities. We were given a menu of missions that we could undertake - I wished I wasn't wearing daggy winter casual clothes. It was so much fun, meeting and greeting people, attempting to learn everyone's middle names, discussing obscure dreams, confessing profound fears and desires, and even playing on a nearby piano. The most imaginative part was seeing people prepare their tea using the floating teabags - so cool! The best bit was looking around and glimpsing at everyone with a smile on their face having a good time.

It was just so good. In a small room with such an exquisite set-up it felt so intimate and exclusive. Luckily I got the chance to dine and chill with some really cool people (David Berthold, Sandra Gattenhof, Shari Irwin and Sarah Winter sat mere meters away!) that weren't a bunch of timid prudes. There was a bit of a downside since there was this gargantuan pot of beautiful flowers that obstructed your view of half the table, but in a sense it made the space seem even smaller and even more exclusive. Lower the flower pot and have a round table, then we'll be peaches and gravy.

The worst thing about this entertainment was that it had to eventually end. An hour is just not enough - you just want it to go on and on, you want to talk to everyone, try everything - I want to have it twice the length and twice the interaction! But not twice the people, as I loved the intimacy of the small group. Maybe even there could be a final task or puzzle for the group to contribute to if they wanted to? Regardless, in it's incarnation tonight it was still practically perfect.

Winter is a genius, I actually think after this I love her. I don't love much theatre, but I'll be raving about this for a while. A wonderfully sophisticated, charming, and intimate evening that I feel privileged to be a part of - I would gladly pay five times the price to experience it again.

If you unfortunately missed out on seeing it, envy me.