Review: IN CLAY, Upstairs At The Gatehouse

“Why has success become the measure of an artist?” Homegrown musicals are finally having their moment. With Operation Mincemeat still going strong at the Fortune, Standing at the Sky’s Edge at the Gillian Lynne, The Curious Case of Benjamin Button transferring to the West End soon, Police Cops popping up regularly, and Cable Street premiering very recently, British musical theatre is thriving.

After an outstanding run at the last VAULT Festival, Rebecca Simmonds and Jack Miles’ project has been garnering a steady foundation of favourable reviews. Its journey is simply the latest proof we needed to understand the impact of the loss of a grassroot program such as VAULT. In Clay tells a touching tale of existing within the ruthlessness of the field of fine art.

Set in 1930s Paris and based on true events, it follows ceramist Marie-Berthe Cazin while she awaits a visit from her more accomplished childhood friend, Henriette Tirman. She takes this opportunity to tell the audience her story so far, what went wrong and what went right. This allows the creators to engage in a beckoning conversation surrounding the rollercoaster of emotions that comes with dedicating a life to art.

But let’s get the elephant out of the room before discussing how brilliant the show is. Yes, the action happens in France. No, though Rosalind Ford has a degree in French and Italian, she doesn’t need to fake a faltering French inflection for it to bloom. Get rid of the accent and In Clay is a faultless, crackless, perfectly glazed and fired piece of work.

Directed by Grace Taylor, Ford is in constant movement with excellent presence and great physical control of the space. She saunters across Rachael Ryan’s gorgeous stage, washed with terracotta warmth, recounting how her creative dreams grew warped by a ruthless art scene. She paints a picture of vicious competition and relentless envy, but the team eases the dramatic flair with precise tonal changes. Ford is in turn playful and funny, sombre and reflective in this positively conversational yet poetic script that’s continually engaging.

With a passionate and euphoric performance that fits well within the jazzy score, it’s a dynamic and energetic achievement, ultimately an examination of what matters more. Is it possible to live authentically while chasing renown? Are the concepts of making art and maintaining a personal life intertwined or completely divergent? Marie-Berthe and Henriette fall out due to deep-rooted resentment and artistic rivalry, sentiments that our protagonist eventually feels for her husband Michel Cazin too (for good reason). Lots of food for thought if you're artistically inclined.

Simmonds and Miles have moulded an impressive and layered boutique production that features a solid role for a grown woman, which is refreshing to see in a one-person show. The duo channel Sondheim and Lapine with a delicate tip of their hat (Marie-Berthe makes “A pot where there wasn’t a pot before”, a direct homage and reference too), writing a love letter to inspiration and dedication to the craft, bringing in the hypocrisy of the art world and the dismal treatment of women artists in history too.

Just like a dainty handmade little box to keep our trinkets, In Clay is a thing of beauty. If we decide to ignore the fluctuating nature of the accent in it.

In Clay runs at Upstairs at the Gatehouse until 7 April.

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