By Rosie Smith, Project Archivist, Forkbeard Fantasy
I have been tasked with cataloguing the Forkbeard Fantasy archive. Having learnt about the company, the next step was to find out what is actually in the archive.
There are 77 boxes, all of which I have now opened and investigated. I did no sorting or cataloguing; just looked at what’s inside. Thankfully I had been provided with a box list, so I knew whether to expect ‘production material’, ‘photos’ or ‘Penny’s designs.’ While a very helpful starting point, those titles do not do justice to the array of funny, joyful, and sometimes downright bizarre contents of the archive.
When starting a new production, the Forkbeards would each purchase an A4 black notebook. In these notebooks they would scribble their thoughts and ideas, sometimes in words, sometimes in cartoon form, until slowly but surely a script emerged. Not only are their notebooks a fantastic insight into how Forkbeard developed productions, but they are also filled with Tim and Chris’s humour. One contains a drawing by Tim of himself as Alice in Wonderland, drawn to convince Chris that having him play Alice was a bad idea. Another contains a to do list that reads: ‘work out what to do and do it’ (very helpful advice). My favourite so far is a paragraph complaining about how hard it is to write a play but never mind because a new notebook will fix all the problems!
The Forkbeards were all artists, meaning the archive is often very pretty. Penny’s hand painted set designs for The Little Match Girl are a particularly gorgeous example. Alongside Forkbeard Fantasy productions, Tim made animated videos, often about nature and history. These can be found on YouTube – just search Forkbeard Animations – but finding the original paintings brought me great joy. Again, it’s all infused with humour. Tim measures time in ‘grannies’ – 1 granny every 50 years – the only acceptable way to measure historical time in my mind.
Rummaging through the Forkbeard archive revealed not only paper documents, but also some smaller objects. In one of the boxes was a small bottle of ‘fairy liquid,’ which I’m fairly certain was washing up liquid mixed with glitter. Currently sitting on my desk is a bottle of liquid film; a piece of film negative sitting in some sort of gloopy liquid. These were used as publicity for a production called The Fall of the House of the Usherettes, which revolved around a film hunter from the National Archives searching for the mysterious and illusive liquid film. Unlike the film hunter, I now have a bottle. Now to work out if it requires special storage conditions…
There’s been some less pleasant surprises too. The archive has been stored in a barn for the last few years, resulting in all sorts of odd bits of dirt making their way into the boxes. Coffee had been spilt on one notebook, which had then grown mouldy. We are pretty sure the mould is dead, but just to be sure, the notebook is having a little holiday in our quarantine room.
I now have a very good overview of what is in the physical archive. But we live in a digital age, and the archive also contains 10 hard drives of various ages. Sadly, you can’t just take the lid off to open these. Cables must be sought, some of which haven’t been sold in years. Software must be downloaded so that old file formats can be opened. I had to learn what a driver is. And that’s all before you get to the process of trying to create a system to let you open Mac files on a Windows computer…once I’ve managed all that, I’ll let you know what’s on the hard drives!