Right. I don't even remember what's all happened in the past five days. And the stuff I remember...I'd rather not rehash. So I'll give a brief over view and then talk about random London stuff to fill the space.
We've had a week of massive amount of work. More voice, more movement, and tons of chekhov (Michael). The presentation is this Thursday and we only yesterday were given loose blocking. Most of us are not off book. ...this is not the way I work. But. I have to say the method has its good points as well. The idea is to make a physical gesture for the feeling or "vibes" that your character is giving or taking. Then attaching the words to said gesture. Then dropping the gesture, but keeping the vibes and feelings from it as you perform the scene. This is only semi helpful to me. Much of the time my brain skips too far ahead, remembers the words without the gesture, and then when I suddenly have to back track to use the gesture, I feel like an idiot who flails her arms and forgets her lines because it feels so unnatural. I get the method. Or rather what it's supposed to do. ...I think perhaps this particular part of the work is just not for me. I also feel that due to the time constraints, I'm panicking. If I had six months or even six weeks to rehearse this shindig, I'd be fine with flapping my arms and "radiating my inner light". But knowing I may make an ass out of myself on the Globe stage in just four days...well it ups the stakes a bit.
Had a bit of a melt down on Thursday and Friday. Felt totally swallowed and helpless. I find that since my scenes are at the close of the showing, we rarely get to touch on them. And when we do, it gets glazed over and generalized. I feel rushed and ill prepared. Two things that immediately make my head explode. I am lucky to have a few people here who are good calming influences. But Friday, there was no saving me. I knew I was set for a good cry, but the thing about being with each other all the time and working all the time is, there is no time to schedule that good cry in. In this situation you are supposed to be able to access the character's feelings at all times, but there's no time to access your own.
I released some of that pressure however, (and inconveniently) when we had our 3minute individual tutorials with Glynn-duh (movement). She asked us to come up with a question to ask her, but in true Glynn style, she completely disregarded mine and cut right to the chase. It sort of went like this:
---insert question Stacy asked here---
Glynn: "No, no, no. Nevermind about that. You know what your problem is?"
Me: um. No, ma'am.
Glynn: You are an incredibly sensitive and responsive actor...
Me: Thank you.
Glynn: But you don't know your own G*ddamn size.
Me: ...excuse me?
Glynn: You don't know how big you are.
Me: ...
Glynn: You are bigger than life.
Me:...
Glynn: You are a rawring lion.
Me: Yes.
Glynn: Right. So stop giving me this fucking meek meh meh meh crap and own your size.
Stacy's Inner Monologue: absolutely speechless. no one ever talks to me like this. (tear runs down face). Hold your shit together, Stacy Lynn.
Glynn: Why do you do that?
Stacy: I...I...it's just...I'm (SIM: deep breath. say it even though you know it's stupid. tell the truth.) I'm insecure about my weight.
Glynn: Stop that. Right now. You need to get the fuck over that. You've got no time for that.
You know Tina Turner?
Stacy: Uh...Yes.
Glynn: Yeah, well so do I. Like, for real. Her back up singer sang at my son's wedding.
Stacy: Ok.
Glynn: You're fucking Tina Turner. Larger. than. life. So fucking act it.
Stacy: ...
Glynn: OK!!?
Stacy: OK!
Glynn: Good. Now go away.
(Insert embarrassing cry in a corner here)
Yeah. I just got called out. Good for her. I doubt I'd let anyone else talk to me like that. But she was right. And I knew it. Now I just have to figure out a way be Tina Turner...
Anyway. Saturday was a full day of rehearsal. ...for almost everyone else. I sat for seven hours observing since they were working scenes in the order of the play. By 6pm, I had been worked a total of 30minutes. AND we never got to the last scene. We'll be doing that tomorrow. Right. I keep telling myself not to panic. But I want so badly to be good. Sometimes it's difficult to trust that you will be. It's going to be a long few days.
So today was our last day off in London. I did nothing for the most part. I went to buy cheap black shoes on Oxford street and had an early dinner with Lolo at Cafe Rouge. We had exceptionally rude french waiters. Felt like being back in France again. Charming.
Now for some randomness...
They say "tits" a lot here. I don't think I've heard that word so much in my life. "Wow. Everything here has gone tits up." or "Gee, that really does my tit in." "Yeah, that really gets on my tits." "They are off their tits." Quite creative.
There are exceptionally good looking men here. Must be something in the water. That and we walk through a business area on the way to the theatre everyday. Men in suits. Men who actually do their hair. Men who have clothes that fit. A rarity, where I'm from. I don't know if any of them are pretty on the inside. But it's certainly not a hardship to look at.
Pedestrian crossings are called Zebra (ZEH-bras) and Pelicans.
When ordering "Coffee" you must specify whether you meant latte, americano, flat white, espresso, cappuchino, or just plain filter (drip). They will look at you impatiently if you think that just saying "coffee" was info enough. This is the opposite in America. If you order a "coffee," you will indeed get a drip coffee unless otherwise discriptionally embellished.
That's it for now. Ta.
Thinking of you x
Sunday, January 29, 2012
Tuesday, January 24, 2012
When the Globe approves, it sings.
Thought process:
I'll write the blog tomorrow...in a few minutes...after I finish this....after I have a good sleep...oh herrumph. It's Tuesday and now so much has happened I'm too fecked to bother. But I will.
Friday was a voice class and movement. Voice was more of a low key-if-i-want-to-gleam-something-revolutionary-I-better-do-it-myself kind of thing. We used a bit of Hamlet text and played with how distance works with power. Also how a certain timbre in your voice is just as effective as yanking on someone's ear and hurling him at the ground. Yes, that was actually exemplified for us. Highly amusing.
The movement class was something more useful for me. We picked animals for our newly casted parts. I kept puzzling over the dying King Lear. Glynn-duh was right, a dying lion would be too easy and a bit literal. And I came up with a Bulldog. I felt silly saying it outloud when we announced it. But then when we put it into practice, it totally gave me inspiriation. The bulkiness of their body, the heaviness and the lack of quickness. I'd crawl on hands and knees, hands turned in and fisted, and heavily clomp around the space. I'd try to be fierce and intimidating, but would have to rest my head on my arms for periods of time. There's a reason why bulldogs have so many health problems and don't live long. I think they are the cutest ugly dogs in the world. I'd personally want one and call him "squeegee." oops. Sorry. Tangent.
We also had to pick a song that our character would sing in the morning in front of the mirror. It could be absolutely silly but it would have to apply. I'm afraid mine was not manly at all. Demi Lovato's "skyscraper." Yeah...ok. I swear it wasn't as ridiculous as it sounds. I did have a bit of trouble using that exercise though because I get sick to my stomach everytime I have to sing in front of people. Especially people I know. I don't know when, but somewhere down the line I began to panic everytime I had to sing. Nowadays I do it pretty much only in drunken karaoke or in jest. I do miss it though from time to time.
That night I had drinks out with a few of the cohort and on the way LF had given me a very nice reality check. I also had one from SG the night before as I was obsessing over the script and making my character collage. Both pretty much said, in their kindest way because that's just who they are: "shut up and suck up, Stacy." My pride immediately recoiled and I had a moment of "buh-scuse me??" But then it sunk in. I've been an absolute "fanny" (thank you AK for the unattractive term that I now use all the time). I've been given a huge gift of a part and it's my JOB to make it work. Not my job to wahh wahh wahh all the way home. So. Thank you LF and SG. ...just don't do it again. ;)
Saturday School. This day was both wonderful and shitty. It began with Voice. This time we were on the stage outside. We were given random monologues to read and learn where the pockets of vocal death were on the stage and how to maneuver them. Most of the class would be roaming around the audience seats, seeing the difference in sound from each seat, and you would be roaming the stage trying not to push and enunciating the crap out of each word and trying to make it sound normal and beautiful. All this WHILE tons of tour groups mull around the space and annoying tour guides speak over you. There was also a class of students from Rutgers, who've been here studying, sitting in the lords boxes watching you work. uh yup.
I lucked out because my "random" speech ended up being my entrance monologue Queen Margaret. I was one of the first one's up and thank God it was a piece I knew fairly well because that's when the people started hustling in. My hands went to ice. But it was the best experience. The air changes slightly when you grab people's attention. The stage gives something back to you. And somewhere in there you begin to take charge, you move, speaking with authority. It felt really good. As JS said, "That was terrifying. But good."
Now, JS was the last to go up. By then most of the people had gotten restless and just wanted to take pictures and talk amongst themselves. But. The moment this guy opened his mouth... I've never seen anything like it. Everything went still. Movement, breath, air. The air literally buzzed. He used the stage in a way that said, "this is mine." He played cheekily to our movement teacher. AK and I couldn't help squeezing each other's arms and smiling. That was power. And that was beautiful. But I wouldn't expect anything less from him. He's become a good friend and I was very proud.
What I learned from this, is that when the Globe approves, it sings. And it sings using your voice.
Acting class. oof. Our first acting class in our roles. The first half of the six and a half hours was dedicated to finding our "centre" in the character. Does he live in the head, heart, will? With Lear, he is unique in that depending on where you are in the play, he lives in each of them. My overall thought is that my Act is in the Heart. One of the challenges for me however is keeping that centre but still using the bulldog physicality.
We also did a terrifying exercise in finding our character's ghost. The idea is that everyone has something that haunts them. Personal demons, per se. In this exercise, we manifest them into actual people, have them follow you around and either physically or verbally be present. Then you interact with other characters with your demon over your shoulder, first physically but then keeping them there in thought as opposed to an actual person hovering.
First order of business was to identify what the demon was. For Lear, I chose madness. His desperation against it.
Then you choose someone to represent that. And yes, I chose our dear friend JS. Now, before you start judging me on playing favorites or thinking oh you just did that because you know he'll play nice...it's actually the opposite. I chose him because I knew he'd truly go after me. He's not afraid of me (you can tell that sort of thing in people's eyes) and I know he realizes that there's a point to the exercise. You don't do it full out, you miss out on something that could be truly useful.
Well...I chose right. He did go after me. Whispering in my ear, following me in my blindspot, saying things that were...exactly what they needed to be. And through that I found the madness, desperation, and aggressiveness that felt right.
I always have a tough time coming back from exercises like that but JS came round after and gave a hug, looked at me and said, "shake it off." Her royal Pridefulness got her back up for an instant (never liking to be told what to do), then she remembered...he's right. Shake it off. And I did.
We then went outside again, and the focus was trying to create atmospheres in the space. Oh, for me it was an epic fail. The atmosphere of the Globe itself is so massive that it sucks everything out of you. And I don't think we figured out how to play WITH her (the Globe) yet.
I still managed to find a few things for the character though and had a good moment with the character Kent (RM) so it wasn't a complete dud. And in the walk back into the building, Tom gave me some nice feedback that encouraged me that I'm on the right path.
This is where things went a little sour. I'm not going to bother with details but the next step was to, in our small groups, create an atmosphere for some specific scenes and find our overall gesture. It didn't go well. Much frustration and much confusion. By the end of the night, AsK and I caved and stopped in to get a Chocolate and praline cheesecake to soothe our souls. I was also lucky enough to have AK and RM drop by for a bit of a back massage (thank you AK) and a DCM (deep meaningful convo. thanks RM). So I didn't have an excess amount of time to stew.
Sunday was the day dedicated to work. I studied the text for a good five and a half hours. analysis, line rewrites, writing lists of what my character says about self, others, what they say about me, imagery used, snore snore snore. It put me in an absolute rubbish mood. I didn't want to see anyone or do anything. And was regretting that I'd promised to see a puppet show with RM. But I went and...it was the best idea ever. RM totally redeemed my day. I love when that happens. It was a nice semi chilly night, we had a good walk, and stopped in at a small cafe where I tried Bread and Butter Pudding for the first time, had a drink called Biceron (where basically there are three small jugs in front of you. One with chocolate, one espresso, one cream. and you mix it all up. yup.), and had some really great conversations. I really enjoy RM. He's tricky in that you never know how much he's observing until later you realize "sh*t. he listened to me blabber the entire time." And he has a writer's view of the world which I've always enjoyed. He thinks in stories. Never boring.
The show was great, too. It's meant to be a children's show but it was so much more. The puppetry was so beautiful and the writing clever. They built an atmosphere that made you feel a part of the town it was in. It was magical.
Monday was my self proclaimed day off. I forced myself to do absolutely NO WORK. And I forced myself to do everything alone. It was a good idea. I got up leisurely, walked to Covent Garden. It reminded me Pike Place Market a bit. Street performers, street vendors, it smelled of coffee and vintage clothing. It was nice. Then I maneuvered my way to Oxford street where I spent entirely too much money. But I treated myself. I've been feeling good and healthy lately (thanks to the five miles of walking we do a day) so I bought a few items that made me happy. Afterwards, seeing as it was Chinese New Year, I walked through Chinatown and found pork hum bao. Yum. Reminds me of childhood. Like, for real.
Then more walking to Piccadilly where I met up with an old friend/roommate Hayley. She looked amazing. We had tea and caught up a bit. It was good to hear the honest truth on the work environment in London. She, being a triple threat, and still only managing three or four auditions a month. She used to go on that many in just a day in NYC. It was a bit of an awakening. Or perhaps a reminder, of the life I used to have and will have again after this rabbit hole world I'm in now.
She then scored me an amazing seat at the west end show Ghost: the Musical. I needed a show that was so far from Shakespeare as possible. And it certainly was. Surprisingly, and I do mean surprisingly since I didn't expect much, it was pretty good. Great concept, great technical execution. The talent (with the exception of the Oda May Brown) was blugh. Great voices. No acting whatsoever. Tant pis.
Right. So. It's time to go to another six hour acting class. I'm not going to lie. I'm dreading it. Big time. Lord grant me the serenity...
Thinking of you x
I'll write the blog tomorrow...in a few minutes...after I finish this....after I have a good sleep...oh herrumph. It's Tuesday and now so much has happened I'm too fecked to bother. But I will.
Friday was a voice class and movement. Voice was more of a low key-if-i-want-to-gleam-something-revolutionary-I-better-do-it-myself kind of thing. We used a bit of Hamlet text and played with how distance works with power. Also how a certain timbre in your voice is just as effective as yanking on someone's ear and hurling him at the ground. Yes, that was actually exemplified for us. Highly amusing.
The movement class was something more useful for me. We picked animals for our newly casted parts. I kept puzzling over the dying King Lear. Glynn-duh was right, a dying lion would be too easy and a bit literal. And I came up with a Bulldog. I felt silly saying it outloud when we announced it. But then when we put it into practice, it totally gave me inspiriation. The bulkiness of their body, the heaviness and the lack of quickness. I'd crawl on hands and knees, hands turned in and fisted, and heavily clomp around the space. I'd try to be fierce and intimidating, but would have to rest my head on my arms for periods of time. There's a reason why bulldogs have so many health problems and don't live long. I think they are the cutest ugly dogs in the world. I'd personally want one and call him "squeegee." oops. Sorry. Tangent.
We also had to pick a song that our character would sing in the morning in front of the mirror. It could be absolutely silly but it would have to apply. I'm afraid mine was not manly at all. Demi Lovato's "skyscraper." Yeah...ok. I swear it wasn't as ridiculous as it sounds. I did have a bit of trouble using that exercise though because I get sick to my stomach everytime I have to sing in front of people. Especially people I know. I don't know when, but somewhere down the line I began to panic everytime I had to sing. Nowadays I do it pretty much only in drunken karaoke or in jest. I do miss it though from time to time.
That night I had drinks out with a few of the cohort and on the way LF had given me a very nice reality check. I also had one from SG the night before as I was obsessing over the script and making my character collage. Both pretty much said, in their kindest way because that's just who they are: "shut up and suck up, Stacy." My pride immediately recoiled and I had a moment of "buh-scuse me??" But then it sunk in. I've been an absolute "fanny" (thank you AK for the unattractive term that I now use all the time). I've been given a huge gift of a part and it's my JOB to make it work. Not my job to wahh wahh wahh all the way home. So. Thank you LF and SG. ...just don't do it again. ;)
Saturday School. This day was both wonderful and shitty. It began with Voice. This time we were on the stage outside. We were given random monologues to read and learn where the pockets of vocal death were on the stage and how to maneuver them. Most of the class would be roaming around the audience seats, seeing the difference in sound from each seat, and you would be roaming the stage trying not to push and enunciating the crap out of each word and trying to make it sound normal and beautiful. All this WHILE tons of tour groups mull around the space and annoying tour guides speak over you. There was also a class of students from Rutgers, who've been here studying, sitting in the lords boxes watching you work. uh yup.
I lucked out because my "random" speech ended up being my entrance monologue Queen Margaret. I was one of the first one's up and thank God it was a piece I knew fairly well because that's when the people started hustling in. My hands went to ice. But it was the best experience. The air changes slightly when you grab people's attention. The stage gives something back to you. And somewhere in there you begin to take charge, you move, speaking with authority. It felt really good. As JS said, "That was terrifying. But good."
Now, JS was the last to go up. By then most of the people had gotten restless and just wanted to take pictures and talk amongst themselves. But. The moment this guy opened his mouth... I've never seen anything like it. Everything went still. Movement, breath, air. The air literally buzzed. He used the stage in a way that said, "this is mine." He played cheekily to our movement teacher. AK and I couldn't help squeezing each other's arms and smiling. That was power. And that was beautiful. But I wouldn't expect anything less from him. He's become a good friend and I was very proud.
What I learned from this, is that when the Globe approves, it sings. And it sings using your voice.
Acting class. oof. Our first acting class in our roles. The first half of the six and a half hours was dedicated to finding our "centre" in the character. Does he live in the head, heart, will? With Lear, he is unique in that depending on where you are in the play, he lives in each of them. My overall thought is that my Act is in the Heart. One of the challenges for me however is keeping that centre but still using the bulldog physicality.
We also did a terrifying exercise in finding our character's ghost. The idea is that everyone has something that haunts them. Personal demons, per se. In this exercise, we manifest them into actual people, have them follow you around and either physically or verbally be present. Then you interact with other characters with your demon over your shoulder, first physically but then keeping them there in thought as opposed to an actual person hovering.
First order of business was to identify what the demon was. For Lear, I chose madness. His desperation against it.
Then you choose someone to represent that. And yes, I chose our dear friend JS. Now, before you start judging me on playing favorites or thinking oh you just did that because you know he'll play nice...it's actually the opposite. I chose him because I knew he'd truly go after me. He's not afraid of me (you can tell that sort of thing in people's eyes) and I know he realizes that there's a point to the exercise. You don't do it full out, you miss out on something that could be truly useful.
Well...I chose right. He did go after me. Whispering in my ear, following me in my blindspot, saying things that were...exactly what they needed to be. And through that I found the madness, desperation, and aggressiveness that felt right.
I always have a tough time coming back from exercises like that but JS came round after and gave a hug, looked at me and said, "shake it off." Her royal Pridefulness got her back up for an instant (never liking to be told what to do), then she remembered...he's right. Shake it off. And I did.
We then went outside again, and the focus was trying to create atmospheres in the space. Oh, for me it was an epic fail. The atmosphere of the Globe itself is so massive that it sucks everything out of you. And I don't think we figured out how to play WITH her (the Globe) yet.
I still managed to find a few things for the character though and had a good moment with the character Kent (RM) so it wasn't a complete dud. And in the walk back into the building, Tom gave me some nice feedback that encouraged me that I'm on the right path.
This is where things went a little sour. I'm not going to bother with details but the next step was to, in our small groups, create an atmosphere for some specific scenes and find our overall gesture. It didn't go well. Much frustration and much confusion. By the end of the night, AsK and I caved and stopped in to get a Chocolate and praline cheesecake to soothe our souls. I was also lucky enough to have AK and RM drop by for a bit of a back massage (thank you AK) and a DCM (deep meaningful convo. thanks RM). So I didn't have an excess amount of time to stew.
Sunday was the day dedicated to work. I studied the text for a good five and a half hours. analysis, line rewrites, writing lists of what my character says about self, others, what they say about me, imagery used, snore snore snore. It put me in an absolute rubbish mood. I didn't want to see anyone or do anything. And was regretting that I'd promised to see a puppet show with RM. But I went and...it was the best idea ever. RM totally redeemed my day. I love when that happens. It was a nice semi chilly night, we had a good walk, and stopped in at a small cafe where I tried Bread and Butter Pudding for the first time, had a drink called Biceron (where basically there are three small jugs in front of you. One with chocolate, one espresso, one cream. and you mix it all up. yup.), and had some really great conversations. I really enjoy RM. He's tricky in that you never know how much he's observing until later you realize "sh*t. he listened to me blabber the entire time." And he has a writer's view of the world which I've always enjoyed. He thinks in stories. Never boring.
The show was great, too. It's meant to be a children's show but it was so much more. The puppetry was so beautiful and the writing clever. They built an atmosphere that made you feel a part of the town it was in. It was magical.
Monday was my self proclaimed day off. I forced myself to do absolutely NO WORK. And I forced myself to do everything alone. It was a good idea. I got up leisurely, walked to Covent Garden. It reminded me Pike Place Market a bit. Street performers, street vendors, it smelled of coffee and vintage clothing. It was nice. Then I maneuvered my way to Oxford street where I spent entirely too much money. But I treated myself. I've been feeling good and healthy lately (thanks to the five miles of walking we do a day) so I bought a few items that made me happy. Afterwards, seeing as it was Chinese New Year, I walked through Chinatown and found pork hum bao. Yum. Reminds me of childhood. Like, for real.
Then more walking to Piccadilly where I met up with an old friend/roommate Hayley. She looked amazing. We had tea and caught up a bit. It was good to hear the honest truth on the work environment in London. She, being a triple threat, and still only managing three or four auditions a month. She used to go on that many in just a day in NYC. It was a bit of an awakening. Or perhaps a reminder, of the life I used to have and will have again after this rabbit hole world I'm in now.
She then scored me an amazing seat at the west end show Ghost: the Musical. I needed a show that was so far from Shakespeare as possible. And it certainly was. Surprisingly, and I do mean surprisingly since I didn't expect much, it was pretty good. Great concept, great technical execution. The talent (with the exception of the Oda May Brown) was blugh. Great voices. No acting whatsoever. Tant pis.
Right. So. It's time to go to another six hour acting class. I'm not going to lie. I'm dreading it. Big time. Lord grant me the serenity...
Thinking of you x
Friday, January 20, 2012
Fear and Lear
I had a conversation with myself yesterday. It occurred about two hours after I found that I was cast as King Lear. It was between myself and fear.When the cobwebs cleared and my brain started to recover from shock, it sort of went like this.
Self: Right.
Fear: ...
Self: Oh.
Fear: ...
Self: I...
Fear: Yes?
Self: I wouldn't know where to begin. ...I'm King Lear.
Fear: Yup.
Self: Is that all you can say?
Fear: (smiles pompously)
Self: This wasn't even an option. I didn't think this was an option.
Fear: (giggles)
Self: If I were to set the largest challenge for myself...
Fear: it would be this. Soggy ground to walk on. Getting thrown on a stage that has its own feelings. In a role that is not your gender, age, has layers of madness, vulnerability, and despair.
Self: Right.
Fear: and you have to do it in two weeks.
Self: I see you.
Fear: Good.
Self: But this is what I need.
Fear: You could blow it, you know.
Self: No. This is going to be awesome.
Fear: You're going to blow it, you know.
Self: No risk, no growth.
Fear: (sings it) You're going to blow it.
Self: No.
Fear: (makes explosion sound with mouth)
Self: Fuck you. I can do this.
...and I can.
Wednesday, January 18, 2012
Is my middle finger gesture enough for you?
Right. Ok. I don't want to write a damn thing. It's that kind of thing where your brain is so overused that just the thought of doing something more complicated than blinking is gargantuan. ...I don't even know if that's how you spell gargantuan....and yet I'm too tired to spell check it. So that's a-what yer gonna git.
But I know I'll regret not rehashing through the last few days so here we go:
Monday was a FANTASTIC day. It was another day off and though we should have slept in, KS and I decided to get up early, walk the thirty minutes to the Young Vic theatre and queue for Hamlet tickets. Now, Hamlet is not a play that would normally get me out of bed at noon let alone 630am. But this Hamlet had Michael Sheen playing the title role. I. Love. Him. Now you may think, Oh you just love him on the level of vanilla ice cream. Cause, you know, everyone loves vanilla ice-cream. No friends. I love him on the level of a triple chocolate cake with gooey fudge center kind of love. Now that's serious. If you don't know who this guy is, IMDB him. You should recognize him. He has the most incredible presence and talent. And for those of you that know my "type"...it's talent. Ugh. This man oooooooozes it.
Anyway, we got in line and got tickets. They were cheap seats, the last row, but I was just happy to be there. Our teacher, Tom, said it was the best production he's ever seen so I know I wouldn't be disappointed. After the queue, KS and I went for breakfast in a diner. There's just something about a good diner that brings comfort starts the day right. Following that, I met up with AL and AK for a bit of vintage shopping. There was a store full of costume jewelry. ...sparkly things...heaven. But alas, I refrained. But oh if I has all the money in the world, that's one of the places I'd go.
I came back to the flat to do some homework and get ready for Hamlet. The show was...the BEST Hamlet I've ever seen. Sheen made Hamlet a man. Not a whiny boy. He was physical, made choices I've never seen, and he carried that mammoth of a show like it weighed nothing. The direction and set design themselves were wonderful. They set it in a psych ward and before the show you could take a walking tour back stage where they set up rooms that looked like you were really walking through an asylum. Some rooms would have workers with clip boards or on work breaks. There were medical sheets, and eating schedules. The dingy walls had postings of paintings done by inmates. The detail was amazing. And the production itself, there was a point where the floor of the stage was hooked up to chains and a huge chunk of it was lifted up to the ceiling to reveal a pit of sand where the burial of Ophelia would happen. There were just so many little details and I found myself gasping or leaning forward (I'm not usually an interactive theatre go-er)...oh the play within a play...and the fact they blended Hamlet with his Father with Fortinbras...amazing.
And what's more, at intermission KS and I were making our way to the bar for drinks and one of the ushers stopped us to ask if we wanted to be upgraded to third row center for free. uh...yup. We sure do. So we saw the remainder of the play from right up close and personal. Good. Day.
I also took the Tube home for the first time. Um, so the Tube (subway). It would take much more than a month to master that sucker.
On to actual work. Tuesday. In the words of my mother, "It sucked." She's the poet laureate of our family. :) But she's absolutely right in this instance.
It began so well. KS and I blasted old school Michael Jackson tunes as we got ready for school. This girl has been a Godsend. We'll talk through what we're going through on the walk home, we'll wake up and crack each other up with nonsense, and we give each other the space we need when we need it. We were feeling good from the night before and I personally was ready to get my head back into the right space. ...that lasted about two seconds.
First class was fine. It was a two hour session with Tom on Michael Chekhov's Theory and how we use it. A little history, a little academia. No problem. It was pretty interesting. Enough for me to want to buy one of his books to learn more. However they were freezing us out with the temperature of the room that it was hard to concentrate. However, for all those fellow actors out there, here's the Cliff's Notes. (JS, this is where you can cut and paste for your summative statements later.)
-Theatre is an extension of living.
-Performance is an art form and craft whose basic material is the human body-mind, and its life in space and mind.
-A performer is a 'material carrier' of the life of the performance. Basically, the actor is a two way channel. It connects the art to the audience. and vice versa.
-The idea is the imagination takes images in nature and incorporate them into your body. It's a constant dialogue. We do this through Gesture. Gestures call forth emotions and impulses. There are three main types of gestures: Atmospheric, Textual, and Psychological.
I can see your glazed over expressions from here. And trust me, I have my moments as well. I sometimes feel like I'm two steps behind. Or as though I have grasp on the lesson and then suddenly it slides between my fingers like sand. It won't quite clearly stick. Like trying to get a good look at something through a smudgy window pane. (Did I put enough metaphors in there for you?)
We had another Context class then with Simon. Nothing to tell from there. Just more analyzation of how rehearsals and texts used to be done by in the day. There was a time when all the actors would get were the role they were playing and no cues. Or sometimes up to three words that would cue you in, but you had no idea when they were coming or who would say them. And we think acting is hard now. Can you just imagine having one or two rehearsals, then being thrown on stage with only your part in hand?
Finally it was our six hours of Acting with Tom again. And this was a rough time for me. I was personally in a very sensitive place. What's worse is I don't know why. This whole process has been like system overload. New city, new people, new stage, new material, new play, new new new new. And I am only just catching up on sleep. I never am alone except for maybe on the walk home. So I understand I'm going to be a little cuckoo for coco puffs. But what I don't like is when I don't notice what I'm giving off. A few people have mentioned that I've not been myself or seem a bit more tense than usual. And yes, I've felt off but most of the time if it looks like I've checked out or gone quiet, it's because I'm taking whatever five minutes are free to literally shut off my brain or go inwards so that I can be as "on" as humanly possible in this situation. In the normal world, at the end of the day I'd walk back to my private room, drink tea by myself, put on a movie, write my blog, and decompress. But there's none of that here. So I take those five minutes here and there to "be alone". The trick is to know who you are and what you need, and then find a way to get it. I know I need sleep, good music, coffee, endorphins, and the occasional alone moment or a moment where I can make a decision solely for myself that takes no other person into account. It could be as stupid as wanting to turn left on a street instead of right. Or using the lunch half hour to lay on the rehearsal floor listening to Jack Johnson meditating. Or maybe it IS to go out to the pub with friends. But it was MY decision. So often you have no control over this career or this life that when you finally get to make a decision, it's like a life line or a piece of solid ground. And yesterday I needed it. For some reason, I just did not "get it." The exercises just went wooooooosh over my head. And the more I talked about it either in my head or to someone else, the more lost I got. oooooo how I hate that. Eventually I just got to the point where I said "fuck it." Which is probably the thing to do. Go with the flow, don't think, just do. And then eventually something will click. ...or eventually the class will be over and you can buy a heineken and ice cream on the way home. Done and done.
Things I DID understand from that day:
The main characteristic of a true Pause is a moment of absolute radiation. There's moment when acting that is almost like a hiccup. You've probably experienced it without knowing it when watching a play or movie. Picture a guy, sitting at a cafe reading a newspaper. Total ease. He hears a voice next to him say, "Could I borrow the Arts section?" He looks up into a pair of green eyes and forgets to breathe. In that moment, they are both radiating whatever they are feeling at its peak. That pause in time has a tension. It is the tension between action and radiation. There are always pauses on stage. But when you steal time like that it cannot be sustained forever. It's like the tension within the pause expands but then releases to push the scene on. In sum, a pause is a slowing of the imaginary quality of time. It gives your brain more time to take snapshots. And times of crisis are when time slows the most. (Ever been in a car accident, and it lasted only moments, but you remember it so crystal clearly in images? Exactly).
The rest of the session was trying to create a constant dialogue between technique and intuition. Tom is very adamant about treating technique as a series of questions to ask yourself of your material, NOT a set of rules to follow. You must have the flexibility to maneuver between both. "Rules must swim in water, which is freedom."
He also showed us a diagram of the Globe stage and all the "money" spots. Because the Globe is, well, shaped like a globe, (and especially with the pillars obstructing views) there are certain places to stand and move. For instance, in most theatres I've worked in, the place to take would be down stage center. That would be death in the Globe unless you were facing upstage. The best place of power here would be slightly upstage center. It also is the best place for acoustics as well.
Oh jeezus. I've not even touched on today yet. Well, I guess it's another epic post, then...
Today was MUCH better.
First class, singing. We sound so good! Our teacher Joe composed a piece that we'll sing chorally at our presentation. A Capella. Yeah. We'll get there. :) And thank goodness singing puts me in a good mood because Text class with Giles was next.
Once again he dwelled on my sections. Stopping me every two lines, making me do it over and over. I kept thinking, this guy HATES the way I do text. He thinks I'm absolute crap! Why is it always me? Maybe I've really not gotten this like I thought. And this, people, is a lesson in what your self perception looks like when it's off. After ages of corrections, Giles asked for me to go through the reading (an excerpt of Isabella from Measure for Measure) one last time. I think he read the distress in my face, despite the fact I tried to smile through it. (Oh please, when have I EVER been able to hide how I really feel?) and he said, "You're very good, you see. Quite. that's why I'm being a bit harsh on you." ....whuh? I forget that that's how it works sometimes. Sometimes you get corrections because you suck. And sometimes you get corrections because someone wants you to be even better. There is a difference. Though I have to tell you, it doesn't always feel like there is when you are going through it. Either way, I have realized that I need to pick up the slack big time when it comes to text readings. It takes me a long time to get comfortable with it and sometimes time is a luxury.
Movement with Glynn-duh. Fun. High energy. Lots of galloping and gliding. I swear I've never been this active. At least not since AMDA and the five days a week dance classes. Anyway, we broke into three groups (in theory, they are the groups that we'll be in for the King Lear performance). As of right now, I'll be part of the end third of the play and we'll get our parts tomorrow. But for now, Glynn focused on finding the energy of each particular group. We skipped around, we walked around in geometric squares for a male energy, we walked in a crazy eight for female, and then we did a sort of ten step power pose of shooting an imaginary arrow. Sigh. I don't think I have the will to explain each in detail but we ended the class with a sort of dance party that focused on the three circles of attention: self, fellow actors, and audience. At the sound of the drum we'd freeze in a tableau as if someone took a photo of us. I truly love my group. We have a great energy. It's focused, free, professional, and fun. And I trust every one of them. That's saying something. Each one is a person I've admired and appreciated, so if the groups remain the same, I will count myself extremely lucky.
Finally. Yes, finally. We had two hours of acting. This went much better than yesterday. Gestures can be very confusing.
Textual gestures (what we did yesterday and I wanted to shoot myself) is the kind that you use for chunks of text. Using a physical embodiment of where your character is at emotionally at the time.
Atmospheric gestures are the type that create the outside world that your character resides in.
And Psychological gestures (what we focused on today) are ones that can define your character as a whole. Their overall character.
We'd find ourselves taking the space, performing our gestures grandly, then taking them internal but keeping the emotions that the gesture brought out, and radiating that to others.
We played with a mix of gestures, mingling and intermixing with each other. It was heavy stuff at times.
Then we ended the time with our directors. They'd build our atmosphere and then create abstract scenarios that could eventually be used in King Lear scene building. For example, our director VM would say, "the atmosphere is blue." We use that and do whatever. Then she'd say, "it's a deeper blue. and now there's a low note from a cello that is relentless and on going." and we'd continue. Then, "there's a white stripe that flashes through your blue." Silly? Perhaps. But from it we created a rather cold atmosphere that was hesitant and untrusting. The white stripe put an imaginary spotlight on AL for me and she became the one person of comfort. Then VM would direct that my surroundings were "more stone-like", she told AL to "protect Stacy", and told JS, I assume, "to attack Stacy". From that it became a stalking and scary situation. As I've mentioned before, JS has a focus that can be nerve racking. He goes after an exercise full out and demands the same from you. I learned a lot from that though. We did it a couple of times playing with the "centers." (see earlier blog dealing with THOUGHT, FEELING, and WILL). How does JS's attack change if he leads with his Will as opposed to his Feeling? How does my retreat change if I switch my centers a few times through out the same exercise. The Centers can change the entire atmosphere or tone or even point of the "scene" that we created. And from that you get choices. And choices, to directors, are like candy. And we alllllllllllll like candy.
And that, was just three days. And I still feel I've skimmed over everything. I feel good today though. I feel like I learned something today. I like myself today. I'd say that's pretty damn good.
Thinking of you x
But I know I'll regret not rehashing through the last few days so here we go:
Monday was a FANTASTIC day. It was another day off and though we should have slept in, KS and I decided to get up early, walk the thirty minutes to the Young Vic theatre and queue for Hamlet tickets. Now, Hamlet is not a play that would normally get me out of bed at noon let alone 630am. But this Hamlet had Michael Sheen playing the title role. I. Love. Him. Now you may think, Oh you just love him on the level of vanilla ice cream. Cause, you know, everyone loves vanilla ice-cream. No friends. I love him on the level of a triple chocolate cake with gooey fudge center kind of love. Now that's serious. If you don't know who this guy is, IMDB him. You should recognize him. He has the most incredible presence and talent. And for those of you that know my "type"...it's talent. Ugh. This man oooooooozes it.
Anyway, we got in line and got tickets. They were cheap seats, the last row, but I was just happy to be there. Our teacher, Tom, said it was the best production he's ever seen so I know I wouldn't be disappointed. After the queue, KS and I went for breakfast in a diner. There's just something about a good diner that brings comfort starts the day right. Following that, I met up with AL and AK for a bit of vintage shopping. There was a store full of costume jewelry. ...sparkly things...heaven. But alas, I refrained. But oh if I has all the money in the world, that's one of the places I'd go.
I came back to the flat to do some homework and get ready for Hamlet. The show was...the BEST Hamlet I've ever seen. Sheen made Hamlet a man. Not a whiny boy. He was physical, made choices I've never seen, and he carried that mammoth of a show like it weighed nothing. The direction and set design themselves were wonderful. They set it in a psych ward and before the show you could take a walking tour back stage where they set up rooms that looked like you were really walking through an asylum. Some rooms would have workers with clip boards or on work breaks. There were medical sheets, and eating schedules. The dingy walls had postings of paintings done by inmates. The detail was amazing. And the production itself, there was a point where the floor of the stage was hooked up to chains and a huge chunk of it was lifted up to the ceiling to reveal a pit of sand where the burial of Ophelia would happen. There were just so many little details and I found myself gasping or leaning forward (I'm not usually an interactive theatre go-er)...oh the play within a play...and the fact they blended Hamlet with his Father with Fortinbras...amazing.
And what's more, at intermission KS and I were making our way to the bar for drinks and one of the ushers stopped us to ask if we wanted to be upgraded to third row center for free. uh...yup. We sure do. So we saw the remainder of the play from right up close and personal. Good. Day.
I also took the Tube home for the first time. Um, so the Tube (subway). It would take much more than a month to master that sucker.
On to actual work. Tuesday. In the words of my mother, "It sucked." She's the poet laureate of our family. :) But she's absolutely right in this instance.
It began so well. KS and I blasted old school Michael Jackson tunes as we got ready for school. This girl has been a Godsend. We'll talk through what we're going through on the walk home, we'll wake up and crack each other up with nonsense, and we give each other the space we need when we need it. We were feeling good from the night before and I personally was ready to get my head back into the right space. ...that lasted about two seconds.
First class was fine. It was a two hour session with Tom on Michael Chekhov's Theory and how we use it. A little history, a little academia. No problem. It was pretty interesting. Enough for me to want to buy one of his books to learn more. However they were freezing us out with the temperature of the room that it was hard to concentrate. However, for all those fellow actors out there, here's the Cliff's Notes. (JS, this is where you can cut and paste for your summative statements later.)
-Theatre is an extension of living.
-Performance is an art form and craft whose basic material is the human body-mind, and its life in space and mind.
-A performer is a 'material carrier' of the life of the performance. Basically, the actor is a two way channel. It connects the art to the audience. and vice versa.
-The idea is the imagination takes images in nature and incorporate them into your body. It's a constant dialogue. We do this through Gesture. Gestures call forth emotions and impulses. There are three main types of gestures: Atmospheric, Textual, and Psychological.
I can see your glazed over expressions from here. And trust me, I have my moments as well. I sometimes feel like I'm two steps behind. Or as though I have grasp on the lesson and then suddenly it slides between my fingers like sand. It won't quite clearly stick. Like trying to get a good look at something through a smudgy window pane. (Did I put enough metaphors in there for you?)
We had another Context class then with Simon. Nothing to tell from there. Just more analyzation of how rehearsals and texts used to be done by in the day. There was a time when all the actors would get were the role they were playing and no cues. Or sometimes up to three words that would cue you in, but you had no idea when they were coming or who would say them. And we think acting is hard now. Can you just imagine having one or two rehearsals, then being thrown on stage with only your part in hand?
Finally it was our six hours of Acting with Tom again. And this was a rough time for me. I was personally in a very sensitive place. What's worse is I don't know why. This whole process has been like system overload. New city, new people, new stage, new material, new play, new new new new. And I am only just catching up on sleep. I never am alone except for maybe on the walk home. So I understand I'm going to be a little cuckoo for coco puffs. But what I don't like is when I don't notice what I'm giving off. A few people have mentioned that I've not been myself or seem a bit more tense than usual. And yes, I've felt off but most of the time if it looks like I've checked out or gone quiet, it's because I'm taking whatever five minutes are free to literally shut off my brain or go inwards so that I can be as "on" as humanly possible in this situation. In the normal world, at the end of the day I'd walk back to my private room, drink tea by myself, put on a movie, write my blog, and decompress. But there's none of that here. So I take those five minutes here and there to "be alone". The trick is to know who you are and what you need, and then find a way to get it. I know I need sleep, good music, coffee, endorphins, and the occasional alone moment or a moment where I can make a decision solely for myself that takes no other person into account. It could be as stupid as wanting to turn left on a street instead of right. Or using the lunch half hour to lay on the rehearsal floor listening to Jack Johnson meditating. Or maybe it IS to go out to the pub with friends. But it was MY decision. So often you have no control over this career or this life that when you finally get to make a decision, it's like a life line or a piece of solid ground. And yesterday I needed it. For some reason, I just did not "get it." The exercises just went wooooooosh over my head. And the more I talked about it either in my head or to someone else, the more lost I got. oooooo how I hate that. Eventually I just got to the point where I said "fuck it." Which is probably the thing to do. Go with the flow, don't think, just do. And then eventually something will click. ...or eventually the class will be over and you can buy a heineken and ice cream on the way home. Done and done.
Things I DID understand from that day:
The main characteristic of a true Pause is a moment of absolute radiation. There's moment when acting that is almost like a hiccup. You've probably experienced it without knowing it when watching a play or movie. Picture a guy, sitting at a cafe reading a newspaper. Total ease. He hears a voice next to him say, "Could I borrow the Arts section?" He looks up into a pair of green eyes and forgets to breathe. In that moment, they are both radiating whatever they are feeling at its peak. That pause in time has a tension. It is the tension between action and radiation. There are always pauses on stage. But when you steal time like that it cannot be sustained forever. It's like the tension within the pause expands but then releases to push the scene on. In sum, a pause is a slowing of the imaginary quality of time. It gives your brain more time to take snapshots. And times of crisis are when time slows the most. (Ever been in a car accident, and it lasted only moments, but you remember it so crystal clearly in images? Exactly).
The rest of the session was trying to create a constant dialogue between technique and intuition. Tom is very adamant about treating technique as a series of questions to ask yourself of your material, NOT a set of rules to follow. You must have the flexibility to maneuver between both. "Rules must swim in water, which is freedom."
He also showed us a diagram of the Globe stage and all the "money" spots. Because the Globe is, well, shaped like a globe, (and especially with the pillars obstructing views) there are certain places to stand and move. For instance, in most theatres I've worked in, the place to take would be down stage center. That would be death in the Globe unless you were facing upstage. The best place of power here would be slightly upstage center. It also is the best place for acoustics as well.
Oh jeezus. I've not even touched on today yet. Well, I guess it's another epic post, then...
Today was MUCH better.
First class, singing. We sound so good! Our teacher Joe composed a piece that we'll sing chorally at our presentation. A Capella. Yeah. We'll get there. :) And thank goodness singing puts me in a good mood because Text class with Giles was next.
Once again he dwelled on my sections. Stopping me every two lines, making me do it over and over. I kept thinking, this guy HATES the way I do text. He thinks I'm absolute crap! Why is it always me? Maybe I've really not gotten this like I thought. And this, people, is a lesson in what your self perception looks like when it's off. After ages of corrections, Giles asked for me to go through the reading (an excerpt of Isabella from Measure for Measure) one last time. I think he read the distress in my face, despite the fact I tried to smile through it. (Oh please, when have I EVER been able to hide how I really feel?) and he said, "You're very good, you see. Quite. that's why I'm being a bit harsh on you." ....whuh? I forget that that's how it works sometimes. Sometimes you get corrections because you suck. And sometimes you get corrections because someone wants you to be even better. There is a difference. Though I have to tell you, it doesn't always feel like there is when you are going through it. Either way, I have realized that I need to pick up the slack big time when it comes to text readings. It takes me a long time to get comfortable with it and sometimes time is a luxury.
Movement with Glynn-duh. Fun. High energy. Lots of galloping and gliding. I swear I've never been this active. At least not since AMDA and the five days a week dance classes. Anyway, we broke into three groups (in theory, they are the groups that we'll be in for the King Lear performance). As of right now, I'll be part of the end third of the play and we'll get our parts tomorrow. But for now, Glynn focused on finding the energy of each particular group. We skipped around, we walked around in geometric squares for a male energy, we walked in a crazy eight for female, and then we did a sort of ten step power pose of shooting an imaginary arrow. Sigh. I don't think I have the will to explain each in detail but we ended the class with a sort of dance party that focused on the three circles of attention: self, fellow actors, and audience. At the sound of the drum we'd freeze in a tableau as if someone took a photo of us. I truly love my group. We have a great energy. It's focused, free, professional, and fun. And I trust every one of them. That's saying something. Each one is a person I've admired and appreciated, so if the groups remain the same, I will count myself extremely lucky.
Finally. Yes, finally. We had two hours of acting. This went much better than yesterday. Gestures can be very confusing.
Textual gestures (what we did yesterday and I wanted to shoot myself) is the kind that you use for chunks of text. Using a physical embodiment of where your character is at emotionally at the time.
Atmospheric gestures are the type that create the outside world that your character resides in.
And Psychological gestures (what we focused on today) are ones that can define your character as a whole. Their overall character.
We'd find ourselves taking the space, performing our gestures grandly, then taking them internal but keeping the emotions that the gesture brought out, and radiating that to others.
We played with a mix of gestures, mingling and intermixing with each other. It was heavy stuff at times.
Then we ended the time with our directors. They'd build our atmosphere and then create abstract scenarios that could eventually be used in King Lear scene building. For example, our director VM would say, "the atmosphere is blue." We use that and do whatever. Then she'd say, "it's a deeper blue. and now there's a low note from a cello that is relentless and on going." and we'd continue. Then, "there's a white stripe that flashes through your blue." Silly? Perhaps. But from it we created a rather cold atmosphere that was hesitant and untrusting. The white stripe put an imaginary spotlight on AL for me and she became the one person of comfort. Then VM would direct that my surroundings were "more stone-like", she told AL to "protect Stacy", and told JS, I assume, "to attack Stacy". From that it became a stalking and scary situation. As I've mentioned before, JS has a focus that can be nerve racking. He goes after an exercise full out and demands the same from you. I learned a lot from that though. We did it a couple of times playing with the "centers." (see earlier blog dealing with THOUGHT, FEELING, and WILL). How does JS's attack change if he leads with his Will as opposed to his Feeling? How does my retreat change if I switch my centers a few times through out the same exercise. The Centers can change the entire atmosphere or tone or even point of the "scene" that we created. And from that you get choices. And choices, to directors, are like candy. And we alllllllllllll like candy.
And that, was just three days. And I still feel I've skimmed over everything. I feel good today though. I feel like I learned something today. I like myself today. I'd say that's pretty damn good.
Thinking of you x
Sunday, January 15, 2012
Gems of people and Pearls of wisdom.
LONGEST POST EVER.
Friday began with text class once again. ...yeah. I liked it better than the first class but it was a struggle not to mentally check out. There's just something about his speech patterns that make me doze. That, and he hates how I end my lines when speaking Shakespeare. Sigh. Well, I was bound to find an exercise that I'd drown in. But I at least found some pearls from the teacher while floundering.
Giles Bloch's Pearls of Wisdom:
-when characters go mad, they no longer speak in Verse. Verse can represent Reason.
-the difference between use of verse and prose is NOT about social class.
-Prose always Hides something.
-Rhyme is often used at the end of scenes to be a "button." It ties it up in a pretty bow. It is also for times when your words are not your own but come through you as a conduit.
-Rhyme is also the words of a lover. Or it can mean an answer.
-Short lines don't always mean they are shared lines. Sometimes it is a written pause that is sustained for the remainder of the beats in the iambic pentameter.
...lost yet? Too technical? Welcome to my life. I'm loving it though. It's the first time all year that I feel like the bar set by an institution is a huge stretch to reach. Not that I haven't learned before this. But that I'm going to have to work both my brain and body in a completely foreign way in order to keep up. At times it feels like I'm a freshman in undergrad having to take a 400level class. Not impossible. But certainly not something that you will be good at right away.
We then had the mindblowing privilege to sit down with the Artistic Director of the Globe (Dominic Dromgoole) for a free Q&A session. Everyone who works here talks about the Globe stage as if it's a living thing. "The stage loves flesh and movement." "The stage does not tolerate liars and pretense." "If you pause too much in the Globe, it'll just go dead."
Dominic said that the theatre itself is 1000 people that make up a wall of pure faces and a carpet (the groundlings) of faces. The attention is democratic because everyone is in a shared light. Therefore they CHOOSE to watch. It's also a space that requires laughter. Even in it's tragedies. Sometimes especially in tragedy. And mostly, "the extraordinary thing about the Globe is: whatever you want to do, it happens." And it's true. I've never seen an institution function the way they do. They want to start an educ. programme...it's done. They want to build an indoor theatre...done. It's magical. And it's so rare. Everyone who works here so far has also not been of the mind set that things have to be overpolished and pretentious. They, like the groundlings, like it a little rowdy and a little gritty. It helps with any lingering intimidation.
We ended the day with the magical Glynn-duh again for movement. This time we were to each take a minute and dance in front of the class one by one. Any sort of dance. She'd put on Enya-esque stuff, and off we go. Then we did the Can-Can. She put on Chubby Checker-ish stuff and we'd practice being lewd and grotesque. She's trying to beat the hesitation out of us. To jump forward at any opportunity to perform. And to captivate anyone and everyone when we take the space. I have to admit, the boys were much better than the girls at this. Especially at the can-can. They put us to shame.
We then studied the cultural archetypes in our own body. The monarch, the warrior, magician, and the lover.
The monarch, we'd place our hands on either side of our head, palms just back of temples, fingers pointing straight up, elbows out. Pressing against your skull you walk the space keeping that erect posture. Many people play royalty with an easy swagger. But this was actually a quite painful and suffocating pose. Your arms begin to ache, your wrists burn, and it felt constricted. This is the weight of the crown. Through that sense, you can feel not just the power of playing royalty but also the struggle.
The magician is a spinning movement while looking down. It's a sort of free, slightly dizzying feel that does not restrict but also is a bit unpredictable.
The warrior is with one arm straight up like a staff and your left arm with hand covering (protecting) your heart.
The lover is two fists pressed knuckles to knuckles over your sternum/cover your heart. You walk around with other people and when you are ready (if you ever are) you look at them dead on, and fling your arms open at the same time and embrace. This takes a lot of trust and a willingness that has to be stronger than your fear of rejection. There may be someone who doesnt want to open their heart to you. Or you may not want to bare to them. You open yourself up to embarrassment both internally and external through the movement. I found that I gravitated towards different people for different reasons. And avoided some as well. One I hugged because I thought she needed it. One I hugged because I knew I needed it. Some I avoided because I felt nothing. Some I avoided because I felt too much.
That evening after class, JS and MAR joined me for dinner in Chinatown. It was some good eats and I was glad to splurge. That's the sort of hanging out I prefer. I like a good sit down, a good meal, and good conversation. I was spoiled and had all three. I thought it'd be a brief dinner but four hours and a pub stop later, I got home happy and full. The more I learn about some people, the more I love them. And that translates into the work. But even more, that translates into making me stronger.
It's been a terribly emotional and difficult week for me. It's so odd being happy and unhappy at the same time. I think a great deal has to do with not having a proper sleep in a week. I tend to go inward when I can't focus. But some people here have helped a great deal.
The first class on Saturday (yes, Saturday) was Voice with Martin once again. I was much more prepared for the bootcamp this time. This man is a breathing genius. And we moved into resonance and intoning as well. Which I'd say was an 80% success for me. It's like I understand in my head but something misfires when I try to get the exercise to my mouth. This is where practice and discipline come in. ...we all know how good I am with that.
Martin's Pearls of Wisdom:
"Everytime you open your mouth in our space- You have to Win."
Our final class of the week was almost six hours long. Once again, Acting with Tom Cornford. The man is a genius. I know I've said it before. And I know I'll say it again. And he's totally got my number when it comes to first impressions. Although, acknowledging that I'm self contained isn't exactly a shocker to anyone, he has a way of sizing you up fairly quickly. It's a gift.
I had a very tough time with the exercises today. Once again it was very much an accelerated class. The exercises were subtle and hard to differentiate and feel. At the time, I'd also reached the all time limit of exhaustion and patience. I found myself shutting down for brief periods of time. And I also found that I became very upset and even angry at times with others. I know very well that it is MY problem with tolerance. But it was just a day when the intolerance won out. There are moments in exercises when I see some actors pushing what isn't there. They Show instead of Do. Now that's fine and dandy, to each his own. But when we are required to do an exercise that is truly intimate and sensitive, when it requires an openness and authenticity that can only be done (when just learning it) with people you trust...and then you see a select few who are throwing falseness forward...it's like a slap in the face. It makes me want to say "well, if you're not going to go there. If you're not going to really try. Than I won't bother either." I truly hope I didnt just offend anyone from my programme reading this. But that's where I was at yesterday. I missed out on successfully completing a lesson because I allowed my frustration with others get the better with me. I'll take responsibility for that. But I wish some would take responsibility for how they affect others. I wish they could see that if you are busy "showing", you aren't "doing." And it's the doing that is believable and worth watching.
I, however, have since had 10 hours of sleep and a nice quiet day in which I spent a few hours alone at the National Gallery in Trafalgar Square. I've listened to my own music walking around on my own time. I shopped at random stores where I bought nothing. And I walked home to a quiet afternoon with my cinnamon sunset (stop laughing, I didn't name it) tea. I always have to remember that my temper and intolerance comes from not giving myself time and space of my own. I hope I can-no scratch that, I WILL- be in a better, more positive mental place by the time class starts on Tuesday. I am still very happy to be here. And I thank God I'm here everyday.
Back to the actual acting class, we spent most of the class focusing on Chekhov/Stan the Man's THOUGHT, FEEL, WILL again. But this time finding these centers in our bodies. People tend to be driven by one of these things primarily. And then from there, they have a subset of these qualities. I'll use myself as an example:
I am a THOUGHT centre. It does not mean I don't feel things or that I'm not willful (Lord knows I am) but when I use my feeling or will, it goes through my intellect first-being channeled, if you will. Each sort of centre have their own physical gestures (or what I like to call, they're own poker tells). When a THOUGHT person FEELS, you see it in their eyes. When they use their WILL, you see it in their jaw (bracing of it and so on). And when they use their THOUGHT, it is centered at the nose and ears. Not that you can see them thinking with their ears or nose 'cause that's just weird. But that that's where that action is lead from.
A WILLFUL person would think with their foot, feel with their knees, and Will with their pelvis and hips.
A FEELING person would think with their hands (Aunt Kimmy and momma, I'm talking to you), feel with their heart, and Will with their elbows (every see someone stick hands on their hips with elbows out when they are stubborn? yeah.) Anyway, we go through each and find how it reflects their characters main Center. Comp-li-cat-ed.
Tom Cornford's Pearls of Wisdom:
-"An actor creates the atmosphere, the character inhabits it."
-"Sometimes the best thing to do when you feel nothing, is wait."
-"the first mark on the canvas is a failure. Every mark you make after that is to correct it." (referring to just going out there and doing an exercise, and then improving on it after.)
-"Create a distinction between your working-body and your everyday-body."
-"Just Practice."
-"In your Working Atmosphere, take your distractions by the arm, walk them over to the door and say- I'm leaving you here."
-"A character is part of the dynamic of a play. Not a full person. It is a slice in the pie because of the time constraint. But you have to make sure it seems like they are whole when you give them to the audience."
-"A character has to be selective [in their Centres]. The selectiveness depends on their prominance in the play."
-"Make sure the technique serves you. Not you serving the technique."
-"If you want to be a transformative actor, you have to transform something. And you have to know how to do it."
-"Technique is a way of understanding your material."
-"The best actors are the ones that nick [steal] other bodies and atmospheres." Meaning to observe others and their surroundings and then keep them in their pocket to use later in rehearsal and performances.
Oh God that was a lot. Sorry about that. And I know most of it was technical. I'm probably the only reading this by now while you've all left to pour a stiff drink. But all I can say is, if I can manage to put all this into use, I will be able to handle and build anything. I may feel like silly putty being stretched beyond it's capacity. But it's good. Very very good.
Friday began with text class once again. ...yeah. I liked it better than the first class but it was a struggle not to mentally check out. There's just something about his speech patterns that make me doze. That, and he hates how I end my lines when speaking Shakespeare. Sigh. Well, I was bound to find an exercise that I'd drown in. But I at least found some pearls from the teacher while floundering.
Giles Bloch's Pearls of Wisdom:
-when characters go mad, they no longer speak in Verse. Verse can represent Reason.
-the difference between use of verse and prose is NOT about social class.
-Prose always Hides something.
-Rhyme is often used at the end of scenes to be a "button." It ties it up in a pretty bow. It is also for times when your words are not your own but come through you as a conduit.
-Rhyme is also the words of a lover. Or it can mean an answer.
-Short lines don't always mean they are shared lines. Sometimes it is a written pause that is sustained for the remainder of the beats in the iambic pentameter.
...lost yet? Too technical? Welcome to my life. I'm loving it though. It's the first time all year that I feel like the bar set by an institution is a huge stretch to reach. Not that I haven't learned before this. But that I'm going to have to work both my brain and body in a completely foreign way in order to keep up. At times it feels like I'm a freshman in undergrad having to take a 400level class. Not impossible. But certainly not something that you will be good at right away.
We then had the mindblowing privilege to sit down with the Artistic Director of the Globe (Dominic Dromgoole) for a free Q&A session. Everyone who works here talks about the Globe stage as if it's a living thing. "The stage loves flesh and movement." "The stage does not tolerate liars and pretense." "If you pause too much in the Globe, it'll just go dead."
Dominic said that the theatre itself is 1000 people that make up a wall of pure faces and a carpet (the groundlings) of faces. The attention is democratic because everyone is in a shared light. Therefore they CHOOSE to watch. It's also a space that requires laughter. Even in it's tragedies. Sometimes especially in tragedy. And mostly, "the extraordinary thing about the Globe is: whatever you want to do, it happens." And it's true. I've never seen an institution function the way they do. They want to start an educ. programme...it's done. They want to build an indoor theatre...done. It's magical. And it's so rare. Everyone who works here so far has also not been of the mind set that things have to be overpolished and pretentious. They, like the groundlings, like it a little rowdy and a little gritty. It helps with any lingering intimidation.
We ended the day with the magical Glynn-duh again for movement. This time we were to each take a minute and dance in front of the class one by one. Any sort of dance. She'd put on Enya-esque stuff, and off we go. Then we did the Can-Can. She put on Chubby Checker-ish stuff and we'd practice being lewd and grotesque. She's trying to beat the hesitation out of us. To jump forward at any opportunity to perform. And to captivate anyone and everyone when we take the space. I have to admit, the boys were much better than the girls at this. Especially at the can-can. They put us to shame.
We then studied the cultural archetypes in our own body. The monarch, the warrior, magician, and the lover.
The monarch, we'd place our hands on either side of our head, palms just back of temples, fingers pointing straight up, elbows out. Pressing against your skull you walk the space keeping that erect posture. Many people play royalty with an easy swagger. But this was actually a quite painful and suffocating pose. Your arms begin to ache, your wrists burn, and it felt constricted. This is the weight of the crown. Through that sense, you can feel not just the power of playing royalty but also the struggle.
The magician is a spinning movement while looking down. It's a sort of free, slightly dizzying feel that does not restrict but also is a bit unpredictable.
The warrior is with one arm straight up like a staff and your left arm with hand covering (protecting) your heart.
The lover is two fists pressed knuckles to knuckles over your sternum/cover your heart. You walk around with other people and when you are ready (if you ever are) you look at them dead on, and fling your arms open at the same time and embrace. This takes a lot of trust and a willingness that has to be stronger than your fear of rejection. There may be someone who doesnt want to open their heart to you. Or you may not want to bare to them. You open yourself up to embarrassment both internally and external through the movement. I found that I gravitated towards different people for different reasons. And avoided some as well. One I hugged because I thought she needed it. One I hugged because I knew I needed it. Some I avoided because I felt nothing. Some I avoided because I felt too much.
That evening after class, JS and MAR joined me for dinner in Chinatown. It was some good eats and I was glad to splurge. That's the sort of hanging out I prefer. I like a good sit down, a good meal, and good conversation. I was spoiled and had all three. I thought it'd be a brief dinner but four hours and a pub stop later, I got home happy and full. The more I learn about some people, the more I love them. And that translates into the work. But even more, that translates into making me stronger.
It's been a terribly emotional and difficult week for me. It's so odd being happy and unhappy at the same time. I think a great deal has to do with not having a proper sleep in a week. I tend to go inward when I can't focus. But some people here have helped a great deal.
The first class on Saturday (yes, Saturday) was Voice with Martin once again. I was much more prepared for the bootcamp this time. This man is a breathing genius. And we moved into resonance and intoning as well. Which I'd say was an 80% success for me. It's like I understand in my head but something misfires when I try to get the exercise to my mouth. This is where practice and discipline come in. ...we all know how good I am with that.
Martin's Pearls of Wisdom:
"Everytime you open your mouth in our space- You have to Win."
Our final class of the week was almost six hours long. Once again, Acting with Tom Cornford. The man is a genius. I know I've said it before. And I know I'll say it again. And he's totally got my number when it comes to first impressions. Although, acknowledging that I'm self contained isn't exactly a shocker to anyone, he has a way of sizing you up fairly quickly. It's a gift.
I had a very tough time with the exercises today. Once again it was very much an accelerated class. The exercises were subtle and hard to differentiate and feel. At the time, I'd also reached the all time limit of exhaustion and patience. I found myself shutting down for brief periods of time. And I also found that I became very upset and even angry at times with others. I know very well that it is MY problem with tolerance. But it was just a day when the intolerance won out. There are moments in exercises when I see some actors pushing what isn't there. They Show instead of Do. Now that's fine and dandy, to each his own. But when we are required to do an exercise that is truly intimate and sensitive, when it requires an openness and authenticity that can only be done (when just learning it) with people you trust...and then you see a select few who are throwing falseness forward...it's like a slap in the face. It makes me want to say "well, if you're not going to go there. If you're not going to really try. Than I won't bother either." I truly hope I didnt just offend anyone from my programme reading this. But that's where I was at yesterday. I missed out on successfully completing a lesson because I allowed my frustration with others get the better with me. I'll take responsibility for that. But I wish some would take responsibility for how they affect others. I wish they could see that if you are busy "showing", you aren't "doing." And it's the doing that is believable and worth watching.
I, however, have since had 10 hours of sleep and a nice quiet day in which I spent a few hours alone at the National Gallery in Trafalgar Square. I've listened to my own music walking around on my own time. I shopped at random stores where I bought nothing. And I walked home to a quiet afternoon with my cinnamon sunset (stop laughing, I didn't name it) tea. I always have to remember that my temper and intolerance comes from not giving myself time and space of my own. I hope I can-no scratch that, I WILL- be in a better, more positive mental place by the time class starts on Tuesday. I am still very happy to be here. And I thank God I'm here everyday.
Back to the actual acting class, we spent most of the class focusing on Chekhov/Stan the Man's THOUGHT, FEEL, WILL again. But this time finding these centers in our bodies. People tend to be driven by one of these things primarily. And then from there, they have a subset of these qualities. I'll use myself as an example:
I am a THOUGHT centre. It does not mean I don't feel things or that I'm not willful (Lord knows I am) but when I use my feeling or will, it goes through my intellect first-being channeled, if you will. Each sort of centre have their own physical gestures (or what I like to call, they're own poker tells). When a THOUGHT person FEELS, you see it in their eyes. When they use their WILL, you see it in their jaw (bracing of it and so on). And when they use their THOUGHT, it is centered at the nose and ears. Not that you can see them thinking with their ears or nose 'cause that's just weird. But that that's where that action is lead from.
A WILLFUL person would think with their foot, feel with their knees, and Will with their pelvis and hips.
A FEELING person would think with their hands (Aunt Kimmy and momma, I'm talking to you), feel with their heart, and Will with their elbows (every see someone stick hands on their hips with elbows out when they are stubborn? yeah.) Anyway, we go through each and find how it reflects their characters main Center. Comp-li-cat-ed.
Tom Cornford's Pearls of Wisdom:
-"An actor creates the atmosphere, the character inhabits it."
-"Sometimes the best thing to do when you feel nothing, is wait."
-"the first mark on the canvas is a failure. Every mark you make after that is to correct it." (referring to just going out there and doing an exercise, and then improving on it after.)
-"Create a distinction between your working-body and your everyday-body."
-"Just Practice."
-"In your Working Atmosphere, take your distractions by the arm, walk them over to the door and say- I'm leaving you here."
-"A character is part of the dynamic of a play. Not a full person. It is a slice in the pie because of the time constraint. But you have to make sure it seems like they are whole when you give them to the audience."
-"A character has to be selective [in their Centres]. The selectiveness depends on their prominance in the play."
-"Make sure the technique serves you. Not you serving the technique."
-"If you want to be a transformative actor, you have to transform something. And you have to know how to do it."
-"Technique is a way of understanding your material."
-"The best actors are the ones that nick [steal] other bodies and atmospheres." Meaning to observe others and their surroundings and then keep them in their pocket to use later in rehearsal and performances.
Oh God that was a lot. Sorry about that. And I know most of it was technical. I'm probably the only reading this by now while you've all left to pour a stiff drink. But all I can say is, if I can manage to put all this into use, I will be able to handle and build anything. I may feel like silly putty being stretched beyond it's capacity. But it's good. Very very good.
Friday, January 13, 2012
I am cleaning house...
"I am cleaning house. Trusting God. Doing what is in front of me. That is good, and that is enough. I am enough." - Ashley Judd
So okay. It was a good day. But that doesn't make it any less difficult. Tolerance of self was better, if only slightly, today. But better is an improvement. And improvements are successes.
I finally found the way to walk to the Globe that I can live with. I've taken six or seven different routes and finally found which fits me. The walk goes down Drury Lane. Like. The one from the muffin man nursery rhyme. I love that. Anyway. I walk from Drury, past the Alwich theatre, over Waterloo Bridge, and then along the Thames allllllllllll the way until the Globe. It's direct, it's beautiful, it's perfect. Done and done.
First on the agenda for the day was the tour of the "Globe library". The quotations are for the fact that it's a tiny nook on the third level of some offices next to the theatre. But it has EVERY book on Shakespeare you can imagine as well as archives of reviews from all the shows, videos for research of all performances, articles written by the artistic directors, and all the prompt books from the shows. I'm in Heaven.
Classes began with a Q&A with Tony Howard. He is an expert in Shakespeare adaptations especially from theatre to film. We watched part of Peter Brook's King Lear on film which is arguably the most influential version ever done. Tony loves his job so much. There's nothing like a professor who you can see truly loves what they were doing. It gives that extra excitement that keeps your attention.
Context class was next where my mind was blown and revolutionized my view on the Shakespearean purist. People argue often that you must respect Shakespeare's work in it's purest form. When in fact there is rarely a "pure" script available. There are so many different version and edits and revisions that began even in Shakespeare's time. A script went from author to being copied by hand or immediately to print (rarely) or to the theatre company to become a prompt book where it is sent to the Master of the Revels (the censorship) and then broken into parts. It's like the telephone game. Already the scripts have possibly been altered five times in the first disbursement. Shakespeare also wrote full plays that never ran only two or two and a half hours (reference: Romeo and Juliet's "two hour traffic of our stage". If you have ever done the full folio or quarto version you know that it'll never be two hours.) He wrote it in full knowledge that it would be edited for performance. At the Globe, they try to immediately dispel the claim that Shakespeare was a God and needs to be idolized. Because you can't act honestly if you are too busy worshipping. This does not mean, in my opinion, that you disrespect his work by fully disregarding his intention. But it certainly doesn't mean you have to be so literal as to follow every last thing (i.e. Exeunt. Pursued by bear).
Following Context was our first Voice class. I'm thinking, oh no problem. We'll Mahhhh a bit, intone, do some tongue twisters and be done. yeah...about that...it was like a military bootcamp. Planks (both one footed and two), panting, standing side stretches until you are shaking and have to practise lamaze to prevent from passing out, and a lot of breathing. It was amazing. We were all red in the face, a hot sweaty mess, and breathing clear and uninhibited. Free breath is the most wonderful full feeling. The teacher-Martin- told us that the Globe space has beautiful acoustics but it is unforgiving to the forced pushed voice. To send the sound to all the seats (especially the first level back pews that apparently don't ping as well) you have to speak with the intention of tension free throat, no strain, and openly send the sound straight forward. Easier said than done. People always say "speak up" when they can't hear you. But it isn't volume that you need. It's clarity in sound. Not in enunciation. But in quality. The difference in your body is subtle, but the difference in sound is huge.
Then we had movement again with the good fairy Glynn-duh. Such a remarkable woman. She has more energy than all 23 of us combined. And she's got thirty some years on all of us. Today we worked on a sort of free dance. un-com-fortable. She would play some Elizabethan music and we'd bounce or lope around like uncoordinated children. She'd add elements like "lead with your bum" or "tits out! Flaunt it if you got it!" or we'd find ourselves gliding around the room using only the legs from the knees and below.
We then moved into the elements of earth, water, fire, water. But this was different from Benedicte and Lucien's method. Each element had a stance that would be held and breathed through. For the most part the stances were not easy and the focus required made you sweat almost more. Each has a power and a message. Many people identify with one or two and most likely find at least one a little unnatural. For me, I found Earth and Water fine. But fire was borderline, which then threw me off for Air. Makes sense. They've never much been my elements. We found a partner then and performed our elements at the same time while looking at each other. And it's a completely level of getting to know who they are by which element they live by.
Another exercise that we did was focusing on little and big movement through dance. Namely through James Brown-ish music. We'd dance around doing the twist, shimmie-ing, and throwing ourselves around.
And finally (this exercise came in the middle somewhere but I'm writing about it last because it was the one the affected me the most), we had to go to one side of the room opposite the door. And as a group (to music) we had to move towards the door. But the door represented death.
We all die. I know that. But I've always had a huge fear of it. Always afraid that I'd get to that door before I was ready. Before I had done all I wanted to do and seen all I wanted to see. There's too much regret in that. And I don't think I know many things that are scarier than that. So when the group began to edge forward towards it, I couldn't move. They began to reach for each other's hands. To cling to each other and some even boldly walked toward it. I kept thinking, "What are you doing? Haven't you ever known someone who died? " Most of the deaths I've been around have been unnatural ones. A boy I babysat for who died under the age of ten, my grandfather in a bi-plane crash, a friend in high school from suicide. I've seen early death. And I saw that door. And I started to tear up. But I knew I had to stay with the group. And the only thing worse than dying, was being the only one left alive. And at least in this, we didn't have to die alone. In reality, you almost always go alone. I could feel KS looking at me, trying to get me to take her hand. I couldnt look anyone in the face but caught LM's eyes. He winked, as if to say "it's ok. It's going to be ok." I kept looking away from the door. Looking for anywhere else. And also thinking "don't cry you idiot. don't be that girl." But tears were streaming down my face. JS was standing next to me now, he didnt grab my hand, but set his against mine and waited. And I took it. There's just something about JS, the actor (I don't really know him all that well as a person), that brings comfort. Whenever I have a hard time with an exercise, for some reason or other, I take from him what I need. The group continued to eek towards the door, music still playing. I shut my eyes, leaned my forehead on the back of JS's arm, felt the pressure of LM's hand on my right shoulder pulling me forward, and inched my way with the group. ...it was one of the most horrifying feelings I've ever felt.
We had a five minute break sometime after that. I found myself sitting next to Glynn. She turned to me and said-
G: "Where are you from?"
Me: Seattle and NYC.
G: huh. ...that was very good work. Well done.
...this is a fucked up business. But...man did I learn a lot. And it was the first time in weeks that I didn't feel fuzzy in the brain. So. Small successes. Take them in. Accept them. Then let them go.
The class ended with the usual prayer and thanks. And so ended our Thursday.
Afterwards some guys and I went to a pub for a beer. I'm thankful for these men. They are positive people. Talented people. And give me perspective. I vented more than I'd liked. But it's done. And it's time to put away any leftover resentment or echoes of disappointment in myself or in the process. Venting is one thing but dwelling is another. And I'm bordering on dwelling. Nobody benefits from a dweller. So with that I will thank God I have the friends I do, the family that has been constant, and say:
God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change; courage to change the things I can; and wisdom to know the difference.
and
"Rivers know this: There is no hurry. We will get there someday." -Winnie the Pooh.
x
So okay. It was a good day. But that doesn't make it any less difficult. Tolerance of self was better, if only slightly, today. But better is an improvement. And improvements are successes.
I finally found the way to walk to the Globe that I can live with. I've taken six or seven different routes and finally found which fits me. The walk goes down Drury Lane. Like. The one from the muffin man nursery rhyme. I love that. Anyway. I walk from Drury, past the Alwich theatre, over Waterloo Bridge, and then along the Thames allllllllllll the way until the Globe. It's direct, it's beautiful, it's perfect. Done and done.
First on the agenda for the day was the tour of the "Globe library". The quotations are for the fact that it's a tiny nook on the third level of some offices next to the theatre. But it has EVERY book on Shakespeare you can imagine as well as archives of reviews from all the shows, videos for research of all performances, articles written by the artistic directors, and all the prompt books from the shows. I'm in Heaven.
Classes began with a Q&A with Tony Howard. He is an expert in Shakespeare adaptations especially from theatre to film. We watched part of Peter Brook's King Lear on film which is arguably the most influential version ever done. Tony loves his job so much. There's nothing like a professor who you can see truly loves what they were doing. It gives that extra excitement that keeps your attention.
Context class was next where my mind was blown and revolutionized my view on the Shakespearean purist. People argue often that you must respect Shakespeare's work in it's purest form. When in fact there is rarely a "pure" script available. There are so many different version and edits and revisions that began even in Shakespeare's time. A script went from author to being copied by hand or immediately to print (rarely) or to the theatre company to become a prompt book where it is sent to the Master of the Revels (the censorship) and then broken into parts. It's like the telephone game. Already the scripts have possibly been altered five times in the first disbursement. Shakespeare also wrote full plays that never ran only two or two and a half hours (reference: Romeo and Juliet's "two hour traffic of our stage". If you have ever done the full folio or quarto version you know that it'll never be two hours.) He wrote it in full knowledge that it would be edited for performance. At the Globe, they try to immediately dispel the claim that Shakespeare was a God and needs to be idolized. Because you can't act honestly if you are too busy worshipping. This does not mean, in my opinion, that you disrespect his work by fully disregarding his intention. But it certainly doesn't mean you have to be so literal as to follow every last thing (i.e. Exeunt. Pursued by bear).
Following Context was our first Voice class. I'm thinking, oh no problem. We'll Mahhhh a bit, intone, do some tongue twisters and be done. yeah...about that...it was like a military bootcamp. Planks (both one footed and two), panting, standing side stretches until you are shaking and have to practise lamaze to prevent from passing out, and a lot of breathing. It was amazing. We were all red in the face, a hot sweaty mess, and breathing clear and uninhibited. Free breath is the most wonderful full feeling. The teacher-Martin- told us that the Globe space has beautiful acoustics but it is unforgiving to the forced pushed voice. To send the sound to all the seats (especially the first level back pews that apparently don't ping as well) you have to speak with the intention of tension free throat, no strain, and openly send the sound straight forward. Easier said than done. People always say "speak up" when they can't hear you. But it isn't volume that you need. It's clarity in sound. Not in enunciation. But in quality. The difference in your body is subtle, but the difference in sound is huge.
Then we had movement again with the good fairy Glynn-duh. Such a remarkable woman. She has more energy than all 23 of us combined. And she's got thirty some years on all of us. Today we worked on a sort of free dance. un-com-fortable. She would play some Elizabethan music and we'd bounce or lope around like uncoordinated children. She'd add elements like "lead with your bum" or "tits out! Flaunt it if you got it!" or we'd find ourselves gliding around the room using only the legs from the knees and below.
We then moved into the elements of earth, water, fire, water. But this was different from Benedicte and Lucien's method. Each element had a stance that would be held and breathed through. For the most part the stances were not easy and the focus required made you sweat almost more. Each has a power and a message. Many people identify with one or two and most likely find at least one a little unnatural. For me, I found Earth and Water fine. But fire was borderline, which then threw me off for Air. Makes sense. They've never much been my elements. We found a partner then and performed our elements at the same time while looking at each other. And it's a completely level of getting to know who they are by which element they live by.
Another exercise that we did was focusing on little and big movement through dance. Namely through James Brown-ish music. We'd dance around doing the twist, shimmie-ing, and throwing ourselves around.
And finally (this exercise came in the middle somewhere but I'm writing about it last because it was the one the affected me the most), we had to go to one side of the room opposite the door. And as a group (to music) we had to move towards the door. But the door represented death.
We all die. I know that. But I've always had a huge fear of it. Always afraid that I'd get to that door before I was ready. Before I had done all I wanted to do and seen all I wanted to see. There's too much regret in that. And I don't think I know many things that are scarier than that. So when the group began to edge forward towards it, I couldn't move. They began to reach for each other's hands. To cling to each other and some even boldly walked toward it. I kept thinking, "What are you doing? Haven't you ever known someone who died? " Most of the deaths I've been around have been unnatural ones. A boy I babysat for who died under the age of ten, my grandfather in a bi-plane crash, a friend in high school from suicide. I've seen early death. And I saw that door. And I started to tear up. But I knew I had to stay with the group. And the only thing worse than dying, was being the only one left alive. And at least in this, we didn't have to die alone. In reality, you almost always go alone. I could feel KS looking at me, trying to get me to take her hand. I couldnt look anyone in the face but caught LM's eyes. He winked, as if to say "it's ok. It's going to be ok." I kept looking away from the door. Looking for anywhere else. And also thinking "don't cry you idiot. don't be that girl." But tears were streaming down my face. JS was standing next to me now, he didnt grab my hand, but set his against mine and waited. And I took it. There's just something about JS, the actor (I don't really know him all that well as a person), that brings comfort. Whenever I have a hard time with an exercise, for some reason or other, I take from him what I need. The group continued to eek towards the door, music still playing. I shut my eyes, leaned my forehead on the back of JS's arm, felt the pressure of LM's hand on my right shoulder pulling me forward, and inched my way with the group. ...it was one of the most horrifying feelings I've ever felt.
We had a five minute break sometime after that. I found myself sitting next to Glynn. She turned to me and said-
G: "Where are you from?"
Me: Seattle and NYC.
G: huh. ...that was very good work. Well done.
...this is a fucked up business. But...man did I learn a lot. And it was the first time in weeks that I didn't feel fuzzy in the brain. So. Small successes. Take them in. Accept them. Then let them go.
The class ended with the usual prayer and thanks. And so ended our Thursday.
Afterwards some guys and I went to a pub for a beer. I'm thankful for these men. They are positive people. Talented people. And give me perspective. I vented more than I'd liked. But it's done. And it's time to put away any leftover resentment or echoes of disappointment in myself or in the process. Venting is one thing but dwelling is another. And I'm bordering on dwelling. Nobody benefits from a dweller. So with that I will thank God I have the friends I do, the family that has been constant, and say:
God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change; courage to change the things I can; and wisdom to know the difference.
and
"Rivers know this: There is no hurry. We will get there someday." -Winnie the Pooh.
x
Thursday, January 12, 2012
London: Wake up. You're drunk. And this is the edge of the roof. -Rumi
Hello Friends. It's been a long time. I'm very tired so I'll warn you there's much less entertainment in this post and much more fact. And I don't even know where to begin...
After Christmas break back in the US, I flew back to Glasgow last Thursday. I don't think I've ever had jetlag that bad before. I was going to bed at 5am, sleeping till 3pm, and unable to change it no matter how much caffeine I injested or how many friends I called upon to help me stay up. P.s. the update on that post where I thought the maintenance guy called me a "cow"...yeah, he definitely said "pal" this time. Which is a totally acceptable scottish thing to call someone. I'm one of his favorite tenants. Mystery solved.
Sunday rolled around and it was time to catch the early train to London to start our month stint at the Globe. On two hours sleep I (and five others) caught the 7:50am train to Kings Cross station via Edinburgh. I like train rides. You see the country, you never have to worry about directions, and there's a trolley refreshment carte that comes to you.
We made our way to our housing in the Bloomsbury district which apparently is very central and very wealthy. Our housing isn't exactly posh, but like nyc, you pay for location. My two roommates are lovely and we tend to wake up laughing, put on music, make each other coffee, and start the day in a good place.
I like London. Like, a lot. It's beautiful here. The city is slower, to be sure. And all the buildings are much shorter than in America. You can actually see the stars when they come out at night. We've been a bit spoiled in that the weather has been clear and in the 40-50 degree range. Not bad for January.
After getting situated, I met D for a wonderful evening of ice skating at Somerset House's outdoor rink, then drinks at the Lyceum Tavern, and finally a long walk ALL over the city. Through the theatre district, Trafalgar Square, etc. I will say that on my walk to meet D, I encountered a rather inebriated London gentleman who was very adamant about my "walk" and decided he wanted to walk with me and harass me for a good 15 blocks. I had a moment where I had the choice to go fully New York on his ass, or just hop in a cab. Seeing as how I was looking good and didn't want to muss my hair, I chose the cab route. But he doesn't know how lucky he is that he is still able to procreate one day (though heaven help society if and when that ever happens).
The next day we didnt have our intro class until 430pm, so I ran errands and then joined a few cohort members for the walk to end all walks. We saw Buckingham Palace (the Queen was in but we didnt stop by), The Eye of London (their ginormous ferris wheel), Parliament and Big Ben, etc. Too many places to count. The walk to the Globe from our place is around 45minutes. You have to cross the river Thames along the Millenium bridge (the one that Voldemort destroyed in Harry Potter), then walk past the Tate Modern museum and finally you've made it to the mecca.
The intro was the normal "hi, this is who we are and what we do." But then...they took us to the stage. The. Stage. We all tried to play it cool. I kept thinking to myself, don't freak out, don't be a spaz...and then you see it. And it's like a kid at Disneyland for the first time. Magical. This is where all those famous people performed famous plays and actually did them well. This is where Mark Rylance worked/works. And this. Is where I am going to work. And my face cracked into the biggest goofiest smile. I don't generally have many dreams anymore. I don't remember when I stopped being specific, or when I stopped believing big things could actually happen to me. But I did. And I hadn't even realized that this was one that I still had. And I'm here.
But it gets better. Because then, they let us get on it. Some people couldn't help jumping up and down from uncontained joy. Some teared up. Some just stood there trying to breathe. There is NOTHING like standing there center stage, with the lights on you, the open sky above you, the paintings, the balcony where Juliet has her famous scene, the Oak floor, the two huge hand rolled pillars, and you. Incredible.
Afterwards we had a reception with some teachers and some wine at the bar that's connected to the Globe called the Swan. And then...the trek home. I've never walked so much in my entire life. And I've never been so tired.
Tuesday I slept better. But not much in quantity. Up early for the journey to the theatre and our first real day of class. Before class we first went to the exhibit (museum) for the Globe. Then Context class with a sweet young teacher named Simon Smith. This class is basically a theatre history of not only King Lear (our play) but Shakespeare, the Globe itself, and the edits of Shakespeare's work. We also study early modern rehearsals and performances.
Following that was a six hour acting class based off of Michael Chekhov's method. Our teacher, Tom Cornford, is remarkable. He's focused, articulate, demanding, and blunt. I think we'll get along fine. Or he'll crush my soul. Either way, I can't wait. That sounds masochistic, I know, but he's got that kind of formidable nature that precisely what I need. I don't like being confronted, but sometimes, with me, there's no other way I learn. There's no other way I'd let myself be vulnerable or go to the places I need to go. I'm just too stubborn. So finding someone who's more stubborn than I am, and in a place of authority, is going to be an needed obstacle.
The work itself bases a lot off of gestures, atmosphere, the qualities of each. Technically you could say that the Content of a Scene is given thorugh action, atmosphere, and sensation-which are expressed through Gestures. The point is to bring out "movements invisible to the external eye." To put it plainly, you bring out your inner life by connecting physical action to the words. Tom also creates a new way of terminology. Rather than giving weak direction by saying, "ok, your character is evil." (which is general and doesn't give you much other than the stereotype). He'll say, this scene is Crimson Red. ...I know it sounds crazy. But it works. And it lets the actors think for themselves, interpret for themselves, so that their performance is connected and their own. I swear it makes sense. It was just six hours of info being hurled at us that I'm still marinating on it.
I've been a bit frustrated with how fuzzy my brain is. I can't seem to get on top of things or engage. I have low patience and it's very hard for me not to just shut down, not look anyone in the eye, and phone it all in. The fact that I'm at the effing Globe and I'll never get this chance again is the only reason I'm pushing through it. That, and the fact that I have some people here in my programme who I truly look forward to seeing everyday. Friends that have found a way to make it feel less lonely and overwhelming.
However, today was a rough one. I once again didn't want to play. And what's more, I wasn't tolerant of myself. When you wake up on the unfortunate side of the bed, you just say to yourself, "self, this is where I'm at. Let it be." But today, I said to myself, "Self, this is where I'm at. Why can't you be nicer, more patient, and kinder? Why do you always have to lose your temper? Why do you get so angry over petty things? Why aren't you receiving and giving freely today?" Now. That is WAY too much thinking which gets in the way of the work. But luckily only one of the classes today reflected my...well...crappiness (for lack of a better word).
The day started with singing class. That's right. We have a choral class where we learn harmonies to old shakespearean time songs. So fun. And we sounded really good. I'm very proud of those especially who are shy about singing. And it was fun (though not easy) to get myself back in to practice. I've certainly lost the ear for notes. Not to mention being bumped up to 1st soprano.
Second class was the toughy. Text class is taught by Giles. A brilliantly well versed man who, for me, does not articulate his meaning so well. I know he knows his stuff. More than I ever will. But his method of teaching does not coincide with my method of learning. So I sat there fuming for most of it. Which brought on more irritation because I couldn't stand that I couldn't stand the class. If only the Lord had made me of sweeter stuff. But I'm afraid it's all metal nails dipped in glitter for me. I'm pretty, but I'm brutal. And 9 days out of 10, I like me exactly as I am. But that one day...oh well.
Next class. It redeemed the entire day. Movement with THE Glynn Macdonald. This lady is sharp as a tack with her stark blond hair and quick wit. She has a sting of authority as she bangs her little drum to make us walk in time. She's one who could demand without ever raising her voice. Her mood is mercurial as it changes from sweet granny or dictator of the Alexander Technique. She suffers no bullshit (or "bovine excrement" as she calls it, because "we don't supply shovels") and you can make as many misakes as you need...as long as they're honest ones. She's worked on every Globe show for the last 15 years. She said her job is like being Drano. She's the unclogger of drains for the actors. She strips away bad habits so that you can be a clean slate to build a dramatic personae on.
We took the Globe stage, being grounded in the space. Letting any tour that came through look at us. It's interesting what it feels like to stand neutrally and allow people to look at you. And to take in your environment. We walked around the space acknowledging ourselves, then a partner, then including the audience. Very much like Stanislavsky's circles of attention. We then did a small exercise that was about "taking your power". The point is that you are here, not to hide, but to give and receive openly on that stage. To take that electricity and allow people to see you, but then channel it into a confidence. That you belong there. And you have something to give. Ok, that sounds a little guru-ish. But there's something 6th sense-like that you have to embrace. It's part of what makes theatre alive.
Anyway, the exercise is one by one, each of us takes up center of the stage between the two mini pillars. The rest of us are in a line on each side creating an aisle and giving the person space and a direct eye line to the audience. They stand there, push their arms out to the sides, and imagine or take the power and full attention of the theatre. You lower your arms, look straight out, and take two steps forward. It is the most command you will ever experience. And after doing it myself, it made all the difference in the world. You respect where you are, but you don't idolize it. It is your space just as it is for any other actor that has walked the boards. You belong. Yes, you have to earn it. But it is there and it's listening.
We end our session in a circle as we say:
"I take from the heavens, all that I need" (reaching up to the sky)
"and I bring it into me" (one hand on heart, one on belly)
"I take from the earth, all that I need" (touching the ground)
"and I bring it into me" (heart, belly)
"and when I have it inside me" (extend your arms to the audience)
"I give it away".
You look out. You say a quiet, "thank you" to the space. Exit Upstage Center.
A few of us, me included, became emotional. There was just something so beautiful about that. Clear. Pure. Like a prayer.
I need a good cry. Not out of sadness. But in release. You feel a lot here. And sometimes, you just don't want to. But it's so good here.
Other pearls of wisdom by Glynn (admittedly stolen from other sources):
"you need to have the heart of a fairy and the skin of a rhinoceros. it's just unfortunate that you find it's usually the other way around."
"A humble person doesn't think less of himself. but thinks of himself less."
"Wake up. You're drunk. And this is the edge of the roof." -Rumi
We go back to our dressing room. Yes we have THE dressing rooms that the Globe casts do. We pass the Green Room with all the lounge mismatched chairs and past production posters hanging on the walls. We are exhausted. We are emotional. We are exactly where we want to be.
We finish the day with watching the taped version of the Globe's Richard II starring Mark Rylance. I almost fell asleep but what I did catch was brilliant. Enough to be inspired and a nice reminder to push through whatever cranky-pants moments or loneliness I may have.
Well...that was epic. I promise I'll keep this up better. It's just hard to eek out anytime to write with the jam packed days. But I'll find a way.
Now off to bed. I've got to walk to the theatre again in about 8hours. ugh. I'ma have buns and legs of steel people. Look out. :)
Thinking of you x
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