LPT: Jan, pleased to start off by asking you about the inspiration behind the show. It feels as though you have written the piece as a memorial.

Put simply, the inspiration is a broken heart. That searing pain we’ve all felt and the desperate lengths we can sometimes go to in order to repair a broken relationship. I took a train from London to Paris and on to Milan in an attempt to ‘save’ a marriage. This at a time when the UK was ‘divorcing’ the rest of Europe. It felt like everything was coming apart. It still does. But I wondered, “How can poetry fix this mess?” I was struck by the plaque at King’s Cross station commemorating the 1987 fire, the stopped clock, and I was reminded of the long search to identify the thirty-first victim. ‘Body 115’ was the mortuary tag assigned to them. A person burnt beyond recognition, someone who’d lost absolutely everything, someone without a name, without a face, without identity. I employed ‘Body 115’ as a kind of spirit guide. Like the poet Dante with Virgil on his journey into and out of the Inferno. I needed a ghost at my side, someone who knew the depths of suffering, to lead me from the London underworld. Yes, it is a memorial piece but not an explicit one.

LPT:  We wondered whether there was ever a moment when you felt overwhelmed by it all?

I think art sometimes comes from that feeling of being overwhelmed. When we can no longer make sense of a situation or when more conventional forms of communication fail us, we write, we paint, we sing, we dance, we cry.

I used to teach creative writing on psychiatric wards. That was overwhelming at times but certainly ‘Body 115’ owes a lot to that experience of recovery through poetry. We can reconstruct a broken narrative in a story even if we can’t quite manage to do it in our own lives.

It was more of a cathartic process to write it, to go on a journey, to investigate loss. But I also found hope there, reassurance, even joy in some dark corners.

LPT: Did the audience’s reaction surprise you?

Yes. I think people have had very different expectations coming in. The title, ‘Body 115’, is provocative in that it ties the piece to one tragic event and then moves away on its own course. I was surprised how a theatre audience would happily suspend reality and be led on a journey - even if they didn’t always know where they were going!

On our closing night back in May we had 20 theatre majors in from Northeastern University, Boston, USA. They’d spent a month in London doing 3 to 4 shows a week, from West End musicals to Shakespeare at the Globe. I was genuinely surprised that they chose ‘Body 115’ as part of their curriculum and equally delighted by how engaged they were with a piece steeped in London history. My director was concerned that some of the references may be too obscure. I mean Millwall football club gets a mention - now that is an oblique reference! We even considered doing an introductory talk. It’s a poetic piece, quite abstract at times but they just went with it and loved it. I’ve always liked that Keats line about how “poetry emboldens the soul to accept mystery.” And those bright, young students from Boston had emboldened souls for sure.

LPT: You seem like someone who has strong convictions so we supposed that you must have had a strong director in Justin Butcher. How did he help you to shape your performance?

Justin has simply been brilliant. He effectively took a poem off the page and presented it on the stage. He left the text completely intact but through movement and phrasing and pacing he opened up enough space in the piece for the story to emerge.

It’s been a long process. We come from different creative backgrounds; I’m from art school and toured with punk bands, he studied classics and trained as an actor. But we complement each other well. He’ll dial down my anarchic tendencies and perhaps I shake up his more considered and traditional approach. He has an incredible knowledge of literature and theatre making and recognised, I think, not just a story we could explore together but the raw energy I had as a performer. He didn’t tame it, he just worked carefully to contain it. He let me go to my limits and then gently (and sometimes not so gently!) reined me back in.

LPT: Has any of your past training fed into the show?  Is there some advice which you have clung to? 

Is this the time to confess I’ve never had any formal training? (!) I’m not an actor. I’ve done maybe a thousand poetry readings and punk gigs, so I have performance experience. But theatre is a very different animal. Justin Butcher spent a lot of time coaching me away from tropes I didn’t even know I’d adopted, certain performance poetry mannerisms that can be distracting as well as simply irritating! His consistent reminder to ‘just tell the story’, without affectation is something I certainly try to keep close. My old agent, a legend in the music business, Don Mousseau, always whispered ‘Keep your powder dry’ when he sensed I was getting worked up. It’s easy in a one-person show, especially if an audience is a little cold, to become confrontational. So, I’ll keep my powder dry for Don and just tell the story.

LPT: Please tell us what you love about performing at The Hope Theatre.

First of all, it’s a venue I know well. I’ve got previous here. In the cellar. I’ve done loads of gigs in that iconic basement. There’s history in those bricks. Moving upstairs to the theatre feels like a graduation. I love the black box space. The simplicity of it. It’s a blank canvas. And there’s a magic to that. It says ‘possibility’ and it invites the imagination. The building is alive and vibrant. At the bar you’ll find old rockers mixing with young actors. I love that blend. It’s a theatre piece in itself!

LPT:  Finally, which part of the show are you most looking forward to performing?

It may come across like a deeply serious piece. But there are gags along the way. I always enjoy it when a line lands well and suddenly the audience laughs, kicks back and relaxes. I look forward to those moments when the audience senses ‘Ah, it’s OK to not take this all quite so seriously.’

There’s one scene - with some absolutely delicious sound, designed by Jack Arnold - where I take a bath (no nudity you may be saddened or relieved to know). I’m kinda washing the journey from myself, a symbolic cleaning away of the past and I love immersing myself in it. It feels very intimate. The moment where poetry meets theatre.

J. Productions, Milan presents:

BODY 115 Written and performed by Jan Noble

At The Hope Theatre, Islington

20 – 26 August 2023 at 9pm

Box Office

Directed by Justin Butcher

Lighting design by Tom Turner

Sound Design by Jack Arnold