Lucy Bailey: Lucy puzzles it out

Amid the tales of incest, fierce rivalries among the gods, and bizarre transformations in Greek mythology, the story of poor Pasiphaë must rank as one of the oddest – as well as possibly being the first recorded incidence of mad cow disease. For Pasiphaë, who was married at a young age to King Minos, suffered the misfortune of falling in love with a white bull. In her search for bovine sexual ecstasy (or should that be BSE?), she turned to the famous craftsman Daedalus, who built a hollow wooden cow with folding doors in its back, so that Pasiphaë could slip inside and insert her legs into its hindquarters. Sure enough, the white bull came along and mounted the wooden cow, and as a result of that strange union, one of the most famous mythological monsters – the Minotaur – was conceived.

Some may think the story indicates that the mythmaker concerned had been inhaling too many strange substances at Delphi, but for the director Lucy Bailey, it ties in with a fascinating area of cultures both ancient and modern. It was the next chapter in the story that proved a starting-point for her obsession – for after the half-human, half-bovine monster was born, King Minos asked Daedalus to conceal his wife's shame by designing a huge labyrinth for the Minotaur to live in. As a young girl, Bailey read Mary Renault's The King Must Die, which told – in a manner to make any adolescent girl's heart beat faster – of how the hero Theseus went into this labyrinth and slew the Minotaur. Here the maze became a rite of passage in the hero's life, pitching him against dark and sexually voracious forces which he had to overcome to demonstrate his adulthood.

What's in a maze? As this story shows, while most people encounter the maze as a childhood puzzle, its connotations of disorientation, fear of what lies round the next corner, and the ultimate achievement of a goal also make it a metaphor for self-discovery. Bailey, who became convinced during her research that "every aspect of life" could be reflected in the maze, points out that "moments of darkness and confusion when you test yourself and come out changed are often the subject of a fairytales". She also reveals how tightly the maze is tied up with concepts of sexual initiation, "There are old drawings of mazes where a girl is standing in the centre, and a man is running along – and in the end raping the girl – before he emerges, having created life."

Bailey's use of the verb "rape" is significant, for it also gives a sense of the murkiness of the maze's past, demonstrating it to be a place where the socially unacceptable frequently takes place. For this reason, she also connects it with stories ranging from Arthurian legend to The Blair Witch Project, where individuals lost in a wood discover the darker sides of their personalities. As the multiple references spill out, you can almost see Bailey spinning round in the middle of a maze, wondering which aspect of its history to pursue next. By the end of our conversation we have taken in A Midsummer Night's Dream, Tomb Raider, warriors dancing on horseback, and mating birds – and that's before she starts explaining how she has translated these concepts so that seven classical string players can turn them into theatre.

Despite her impressive CV, which includes directing the world premiere of Samuel Beckett's Lessness at university, an apprenticeship with the Royal National Theatre, Glyndebourne Opera and the Royal Shakespeare Company, and a respectable stint as an opera director, it is arguable that Bailey started to attract a following for her productions when she and the violinist Nell Catchpole decided to challenge the evening-wear-and-music-stand version of classical music performance by creating a highly physical performance group. In 1995 the Gogmagogs was born, and the group's development of a style that ranged from the absurd to the poetic has attracted composers and playwrights including Caryl Churchill, John Tavener, and Gerard McBurney.

If you thought the idea of walking and playing a cello was challenging enough, then try the idea of running with a cello, dancing with a cello, or – as the latest production demonstrates – fighting with a cello. Once you've taken this on board, then evoking raunchy sexual attraction with a double bass or depicting hissing anger with a couple of argumentative violins is an easy leap of the imagination.

In the flesh, Bailey is slight, with short, blond, spiked hair and – it seems initially because of her soft voice – a self-deprecating air. Once she starts to talk about her work, however, her arms fly out exuberantly, while her hands move precisely as if she were trying to capture exact images of her ideas from the air around her. "Because of my interest in the Labyrinth at Knossos [where the Minotaur lurked] I decided that for the show I was going to make the musicians play seven victims placed in this unknown terrifying space where a monster is hidden. I also combined elements of A Midsummer Night's Dream, so that each character was in love with another, and The Blair Witch Project, so that the threat was initially unknown and unidentifiable."

Those who have followed Bailey's career over the last few years will be aware of her talent for bringing out the best in her designers. They will also, therefore, recognise how much she relishes the challenges of depicting a maze on stage. Even those who had reservations about her production of Baby Doll were enthralled by the way Bunny Christie's set distilled the voyeuristic essence of the film. Last month in Bailey's Chichester production of Tennessee Williams's early play, Stairs to the Roof, she collaborated with designer Angela Davies to create a production where the visual delights far outstripped the merits of the script.

In Troy Town (the name comes from stone mazes where ancient fertility rites were re-enacted), Davies once more realises Bailey's visual dreams with a set filled with doors, full-length windows, and cage-like wire meshes which capture both the claustrophobia and the infinite open-endedness of the maze. It is an exciting set, although it does make you wonder how much further she could go if the Gogmagogs received more generous funding from the Arts Council. On this occasion the set is also upstaged by the movements of the musicians which range from the comic to the disturbingly raunchy. There is an incredible slow-motion fight between the two male cellists at the end, and the latent eroticism in this scene is fully realised in cellist Chris Allen's earlier string-throbbing seduction of the double-bass player, Lucy Shaw.

"This time the musicians created the music, which allowed us to create a closer relationship between the movement and the score," Bailey explains. "Instead of worrying about being truthful to the music, I would say, for instance, 'Try tripping up and rolling over, and see what you can play beautifully at the same time.' On a shoestring, my company is trying to create an intensely visual form of theatre, which dissolves the lines between theatre and audience." Her eyes flash. "Now we'd like a core income so we can develop that further."

To 10 Nov, Riverside Studios, London; box office: 020-8237 1111