Creators: Yoshi Colwell and Max Barton
It’s a narrative that, emerging from lockdowns, became all too painfully familiar for thousands. That of being confined to a place, and desperately wishing you were somewhere else. Musician and theatre-maker Yoshi Colwell was touring Australia when it happened to her. As the pandemic embedded itself into everyday life, Colwell was unable to make it back to the UK in time to say her goodbyes to her grandmother, Ann.
Now, working with Second Body, Colwell and Max Barton premiere their collaboration piece Invisible Mending. A love letter, of sorts, an indeed a reprise farewell to Ann through the medium of song, spoken word, and Ann’s finest creative outlet – knitting. And her final piece of knitwear, too short for a scarf, too narrow for a cardigan, no plan, no goal; she was just using the last of her wool.
All it takes is a single thread in the tapestry, or in this case jumper, to begin a story. And sometimes, the shining brightness of that single thread never loses its purpose or place in the whole piece. Colwell is that thread. And while the allegory of torn and tattered beloved knitwear feels to be the inspiration of the show, what Invisible Mending truly pushes is a message of family rekindling and mending wounds. Colwell’s vocal and spoken word performance transitions much of the show between periods of time, the recitations from her diary an absolute trove of emotion, humour and jumping points for her relationship with Ann.
For those familiar with Second Body’s predecessor piece Styx, the slow burn of narrative threads will rekindle a similar aura. And though potentially off-putting for some, the gradual knitted pacing of Invisible Mending is the show’s strength, lulling audiences into a more relaxed state to enjoy the storytelling and lyricism of the script.
Interweaving music, metaphysics, sound design, and a plethora of personal and intimate family memories – the composure Colwell carries is inspiring, and while the script itself finds a snag or two with its complexities, Colwell never struggles to be clear in her diction and performance. Additional elements of lighting, of incandescent topaz bulbs which flicker and align with the verbatim of Colwell’s rhythmic speech all, preserve a slight detachment from the world us as physical signifiers – jumpers, shows, wool and others all tie us back to the reality of grief.
A warming, wry piece of theatre, Invisible Mending has a particular touch which some audiences will find meandering or slow. But for those who understand the stylistic choices, and even have suffered the loss of someone they never said goodbye to, Colwell’s show is a fascinating piece of live music and verbatim to attempt to piece together the tatters of something and fill in the gaps on the sweater.
Run has now finished
The Reviews Hub Score
Slow burning narrative
