I know. It was a shock to me as well. But I am not, in fact, Jesus Christ. And here's more news to stuff in your pipe and smoke: You aren't Jesus either.
Where am I going with this, you ask? Well, I've been beating myself up a lot lately for not being infallible. Forgiving oneself, when one is truly sorry, is totally allowed. In most cases, even encouraged. So perhaps I should cut myself a break. I don't always say the right thing, I don't always do the right thing, and I certainly don't always control my facial expressions. (Ok. I rarely control my facial expressions). I am a work in progress. So it's time to cease self flagellation.
Perhaps that is why I am having nightmares so often as of late. For five days straight I've woken up well before my alarm and with this awful feeling in the pit of my stomach. Each dream was one of humiliation or attack and had one or all of the people in my programme in it. I'm either on stage with no idea of what my lines are, or in a rehearsal room being yelled at for how controlling and overbearing I am, or being made fun of, etc. Now you may thinking, it could be worse, there could be zombies trying to eat your brains or something. Well, for me, my dreams are actually worse than zombies. I'd take zombies over public humiliation and embarrassment anyday. That's probably wrong on so many levels. Like I said, work in progress.
Anyway.
It's halfway through the week already. And I'm frustrated. This last term is kind of, well, wimpy. In comparison, the first term was like rock climbing, London was like a decathlon, term two was like the polar bear swim (look it up. not pleasant), term three was like trying to walk a straight line during an earthquake, and this term...is like playing hopscotch. Not really mindblowing, not really all encompassing, a little confusing, and hard to play for long periods of time. It all comes down to the administration and the lack of efficiency, planning, and trust in the cohort that they assembled. It's disappointing. But I am squeezing what I can out of what they are giving, and building other lesson plans for myself to keep busy. I refuse to be lazy.
So. I teach ballet once a week. I go to the gym three to four times a week. I am starting (with KS) to search/workshop/rehearse up to ten new monologues for auditioning. I am building my website, selecting songs to work on for my repertoire (ones that I actually WANT to sing just in case I choose to go to a musical call. not likely. but you never know), and reading about clowning, rodenburg, fencing, stage combat, and applying for shakespeare festivals next week. If I go back to NYC and do not get a role, it will not be for lack of preparation. It may be because I look like someone's second cousin twice removed who slept with someone's ex-girlfriend who turned out to be gay. But I can't control that. But it will never be because I am not prepared.
Rehearsals this week have been...good. But also tedious. But a necessary tedious. Sometimes you have to bang around the kitchen before you can find the right mixing bowl, if you know what I mean. (And if you don't know what I mean and want me to avoid all future analogies, I just mean we've had to try a lot of things out slowly before finding choices that fit). We've been using a lot of the Michael Chekhov work that we first experienced at the Globe back in January. And for the most part, it has unlocked a few things for me with the Mermaid. Chekhov uses a lot of gestures in order to convey what's going on emotionally inside. It is, from my understanding, a physical movement or manifestation of your reaction to an event that has occurred. ...you lost, yet? Yeah. I am too sometimes. But for the Mermaid, since she reacts and feeds off of the emotions of others and not the words that are being said, it has been very useful. Someone will make a gesture of, let's say, comfort. This may look like a reaching out gently towards another character with both hands. The gesture is repeated in a cyclical motion while going through that section of the script. Now, normally each character would have their own gesture as they would each be experiencing their own individual reactions to what is going on. But my character takes on others' emotions and therefore their gestures. When a feeling is not your own, it can be confusing and disorientating which is what the Mermaid feels. The physical manifestation chosen by a character makes the emotion I get for the mermaid more specific and therefore has made some of the lines become sharper and less forced. It still has a LONG way to go and it makes me nervous having to depend on the emotions I am given. I will not be able to fabricate or force anything (which I shouldn't anyway). If I am given nothing, I will have to give nothing. And on the other end of the scary spectrum, if I am given raw genuine emotion, I will have to bounce that same openness and vulnerability back. It is a nice little challenge that I had not expected and look forward to. Despite the fact it scares me.
This project is delicate in that it will be a thin line between ridiculous farce (when it's not meant to be) and beautiful and delightfully funny. We've already established my problem with making a tw&t out of myself. But I'm just stubborn enough to make myself commit fully, even if I have to drag myself kicking screaming while I do it. I do not like how I am wasting even a tiny bit of energy fighting my insecurities. But they're there. They exist. It is human. And it is ok.
As I said, I am not Jesus. You can only do your best. And I will.
Wednesday, July 25, 2012
Friday, July 20, 2012
Cling Film=The New Duct Tape.
It's like End of Days in my kitchen and outside my bedroom window. The Apocalypse. I got home from a long day of rehearsals and the gym to find a plethra of flies, the size of two thumb nails put together, flying around the kitchen. Outside, smells of garbage are permeating from the other kitchen while the sounds of screeching seagulls and crows serenade me non-stop like a tone deaf dying chorus. It's awesome, I assure you. But then again, I'm so tired at this moment that I just sort of fling my middle finger in no particular direction, mumble "oh, for f*cksake" and slump against my wall whilst watching something meaningless on youtube. I can't be bothered.
This week, for some reason, felt like that Bill Murray movie "Groundhog's Day" where he had the day that would not end. It felt SO long. I'm not quite sure why. Especially since we technically only had four days of rehearsal this week.
I've kept up with the gym doing about 10 miles a week (two miles here, three miles there). And Tuesday through Friday we've been in rehearsals 10-530pm for "The Special." Our last play that we tour around the UK. You know, the one where I'm the mermaid. Today we had a costume consultation...welp...let's just say my Measure for Measure whore costume has got NOTHING on this one. Think silver cat suit, Saran wrap (cling film), silver body paint, and possibly color enhancing contact lenses. If you were me, you'd be going to the gym, too. I'm excited and nervous, but surprisingly not so much about the costume (then again, I haven't seen it yet). But I've grown fairly comfortable with myself physically. Which is nice. And thank God. Because...cat suit and cling film...
As for actual rehearsals, they've been very good for the first week. We've gone through the script, step by step, finding our intentions and our "why's" and "how's." I've felt a bit off balance since the Mermaid doesn't really have a back story and she is more creature than human. It's about finding how she moves, where her voice lies, how she speaks, how she communicates, and what does she want. SPOILER ALERT: The idea is that she's never felt human emotions before but is a natural empath. So she takes on the intense feelings of the humans around her and tries to process them, with very few words, and very few moments of interaction with the other characters. This is all while she is tied up and trying to avoid being on the menu at the restaurant. For the other characters, they can't hear the mermaid speak until they reach their personal epiphany or moment of heightened emotion. And whenever they come physically near the mermaid, their emotions are intensified. And all this has to be portrayed within 45 minutes, with very little exposition. So, it's been a challenge. What's nice is that there is very little room for insecurity to leak through. I find I still talk too much and ask too many questions. I'm trying to shut that down more. JUST DO, don't dissect. I think it comes from being over educated and being too involved in the tech side of things in the past. You forget that your job as an actor is simpler than you make it. And it's important to let other people do their job. It's about doing less. Something I'm not really good at.
Today I also had a one-on-one session with Ros Steen who is one of the head teachers of the voice technique by Nadine George. She also did the voice work with Alan Cumming for his Macbeth that is going on in NYC right now. I'm not going to lie, though I respect her career and her dedication, this is a technique that I have NEVER fully loved. There are good moments and exercises but overall it is not my cup of tea. But I really needed to delve into the different qualities of my voice to find where I could possibly begin to be a mermaid, whatever that means. And it was useful though stressful. One-on-ones are the best thing for me and something that rarely happens. I like to hide and I get embarrassed very easily. Put that in front of a teacher and a director and I immediately get defensive and annoyed because someone is looking at me and pushing me to do something that I don't know if I can do well or not. And I don't know whether it will work or not. Sometimes I wonder if I'll ever be free enough to be any good. That's what this business demands, a freedom of expression and a willingness to try and fail big, while in front of people. But you know, sometimes, the things we theatre people do...well...they are just ridiculous. However, if you shut down before you try, you lack the imagination to find the really good stuff.
I did my best in my session. Well, my best for where I was today. That's another thing. Sometimes you have to wake up and ask yourself, "How am I, today?" And if the answer is, "Shitty. Thanks for asking" well then you just have to play the cards you are dealt and wait to reset your day tomorrow. For me, the past two nights have been rough when it comes to sleep. As in, I've not had much of it. I sit there in bed for hours, worrying or feeling anxious, or beating myself up over stupid things. And pretty soon, it's two or three a.m. and I have to be up by 8:30am. So already this morning was going to be a doozy.
Ros was good though once we actually started moving. She had me finding the vibration through the lower to upper registers, then adding it to some of the text. It's a very delicate science, finding subtle qualities in the voice. Elongating vowels, resonating in certain parts of the body, and making sure not to push emotion or acting. When doing this voice work, it's not about the acting. It's about sending that vibration and sound outwards and through the timbre, you can affect yourself and others emotionally. We hold tension in our bodies but also in our voices. Sometimes we don't realize it until we, well, strike a chord. By trying the different octaves and vibrations through the text, I could find where it felt right for the Mermaid to deliver. And also, it opened up a few more colorful acting choices for her. Perhaps she has lightness, awe, wonder, danger, anger, innocence, and laughter. And then you find where each quality might sit in your voice. It's a lot to mull over and I'm going to have to sit down alone and hash some of it out. Already when we continued our rehearsal later in the afternoon, I lost some of the quality and sound that I had sweated over with Ros. Nerves, the early rehearsal process, the fact we're not off book yet, all added to my inconsistency, which is forgivable. For now. But I want to feel solid and sure of the vocal part of the character by the time tech comes around. I want it to just be there.
Overall, I've been good. The sheen of my Malta vacation has faded with my tan but I'm still in a pretty good place. What's more, I feel like I've gotten to the acceptance stage of leaving the UK. I really like it here. But there are some things I do miss about the US, and more specifically NYC. I miss the brutal honesty of it. It's hard to hear the truth sometimes, especially when it is delivered in a way that can border on vicious. But you can count on it. If someone lays out the rules, you follow them or you get fired. If someone doesn't like you, they don't pretend they do. It takes too much energy. Sure you've still got those people out there who will ask themselves whether or not they should stay on your good side so they can use you or ride on your coat tails just in case you find any small success, but there are also enough people out there who work with you because they want to and that is reason enough. I miss knowing where I stand with the City and the people in it. I've always had a problem with NYC being an unfair place, but at least it's open about its nepotism. More so than any other place I've ever been to. And even going back to WA for a bit will be nice. A reminder of something familiar and a different world than where I am. Sometimes we create a world that is too small, where the people you surround yourself with are the only people you see, and pretty soon you start believing that that is the ONLY world there is. The problems or annoyances are magnified. Egos inflated or crushed. Disagreements and disappointments are gargantuan. And loneliness is all encompassing. NYC is lonely in its own way. Don't be mistaken. I remember my complaints before. You are always alone and yet never alone. You are surrounded by noise and smells (especially in summer). Kindness is not on a free flowing tap. You have to hustle and it can be humiliating. And if you are not careful, it can suck you in and before you realize it, you've been there for years and done nothing with your life other than becoming bitter and unforgiving.
Part of me knows that I am going there because no where else feels right. Part is going there because I at least know how it works and would prefer going to one building for three auditions as opposed to driving all over a smaller city for two auditions that are for no or low paying gigs. No thank you. Not for me. Not anymore. And part of me still hopes that a miracle will happen and I'll figure out that there's somewhere else I'm meant to be. But there is one thing I DO know. This time, the City and I will be on more equal terms. I do not want to just live in survival mode, but rather strive for the career and lifestyle that I want. Which, my friends, is not a cheap one. I am worth that. I just really need to work on deserving it.
I believe in karma. I believe that even if you don't see immediate results or even if you NEVER see results, the good and the bad stick to you. You take it with you where ever you go. And I am not a natural do gooder. I'd like to be, but it's work. Lately, I have slipped into feeling catty or spiteful at times. Which really, how is that productive at all? Who does that help? No one. Because it hurts those you feel that way towards, poisons the ears that hear your venom, and you end up feeling like an asshole who can't find anything better to do than rain on others' parades. In the end, you want people to be happy for you when good things happen, you want them to believe you deserve whatever success you get, and you want to feel that for yourself as well. There is a fine balance between the venting fairy who expels whatever troubles you have so that it does not live inside you, and the shit-talking wench who talks something to death in order for people to pat your head and say "oh no, you are terribly right." One is healthy. The other destructive. However tempting and natural that bitch may be, she will turn on you the minute you shut your eyes. So, one must try to resist.
So. The weekend is here. I will get some sleep, I will get things done, and I will try to do and be better. Because that's the point isn't it? To earnestly try.
x
This week, for some reason, felt like that Bill Murray movie "Groundhog's Day" where he had the day that would not end. It felt SO long. I'm not quite sure why. Especially since we technically only had four days of rehearsal this week.
I've kept up with the gym doing about 10 miles a week (two miles here, three miles there). And Tuesday through Friday we've been in rehearsals 10-530pm for "The Special." Our last play that we tour around the UK. You know, the one where I'm the mermaid. Today we had a costume consultation...welp...let's just say my Measure for Measure whore costume has got NOTHING on this one. Think silver cat suit, Saran wrap (cling film), silver body paint, and possibly color enhancing contact lenses. If you were me, you'd be going to the gym, too. I'm excited and nervous, but surprisingly not so much about the costume (then again, I haven't seen it yet). But I've grown fairly comfortable with myself physically. Which is nice. And thank God. Because...cat suit and cling film...
As for actual rehearsals, they've been very good for the first week. We've gone through the script, step by step, finding our intentions and our "why's" and "how's." I've felt a bit off balance since the Mermaid doesn't really have a back story and she is more creature than human. It's about finding how she moves, where her voice lies, how she speaks, how she communicates, and what does she want. SPOILER ALERT: The idea is that she's never felt human emotions before but is a natural empath. So she takes on the intense feelings of the humans around her and tries to process them, with very few words, and very few moments of interaction with the other characters. This is all while she is tied up and trying to avoid being on the menu at the restaurant. For the other characters, they can't hear the mermaid speak until they reach their personal epiphany or moment of heightened emotion. And whenever they come physically near the mermaid, their emotions are intensified. And all this has to be portrayed within 45 minutes, with very little exposition. So, it's been a challenge. What's nice is that there is very little room for insecurity to leak through. I find I still talk too much and ask too many questions. I'm trying to shut that down more. JUST DO, don't dissect. I think it comes from being over educated and being too involved in the tech side of things in the past. You forget that your job as an actor is simpler than you make it. And it's important to let other people do their job. It's about doing less. Something I'm not really good at.
Today I also had a one-on-one session with Ros Steen who is one of the head teachers of the voice technique by Nadine George. She also did the voice work with Alan Cumming for his Macbeth that is going on in NYC right now. I'm not going to lie, though I respect her career and her dedication, this is a technique that I have NEVER fully loved. There are good moments and exercises but overall it is not my cup of tea. But I really needed to delve into the different qualities of my voice to find where I could possibly begin to be a mermaid, whatever that means. And it was useful though stressful. One-on-ones are the best thing for me and something that rarely happens. I like to hide and I get embarrassed very easily. Put that in front of a teacher and a director and I immediately get defensive and annoyed because someone is looking at me and pushing me to do something that I don't know if I can do well or not. And I don't know whether it will work or not. Sometimes I wonder if I'll ever be free enough to be any good. That's what this business demands, a freedom of expression and a willingness to try and fail big, while in front of people. But you know, sometimes, the things we theatre people do...well...they are just ridiculous. However, if you shut down before you try, you lack the imagination to find the really good stuff.
I did my best in my session. Well, my best for where I was today. That's another thing. Sometimes you have to wake up and ask yourself, "How am I, today?" And if the answer is, "Shitty. Thanks for asking" well then you just have to play the cards you are dealt and wait to reset your day tomorrow. For me, the past two nights have been rough when it comes to sleep. As in, I've not had much of it. I sit there in bed for hours, worrying or feeling anxious, or beating myself up over stupid things. And pretty soon, it's two or three a.m. and I have to be up by 8:30am. So already this morning was going to be a doozy.
Ros was good though once we actually started moving. She had me finding the vibration through the lower to upper registers, then adding it to some of the text. It's a very delicate science, finding subtle qualities in the voice. Elongating vowels, resonating in certain parts of the body, and making sure not to push emotion or acting. When doing this voice work, it's not about the acting. It's about sending that vibration and sound outwards and through the timbre, you can affect yourself and others emotionally. We hold tension in our bodies but also in our voices. Sometimes we don't realize it until we, well, strike a chord. By trying the different octaves and vibrations through the text, I could find where it felt right for the Mermaid to deliver. And also, it opened up a few more colorful acting choices for her. Perhaps she has lightness, awe, wonder, danger, anger, innocence, and laughter. And then you find where each quality might sit in your voice. It's a lot to mull over and I'm going to have to sit down alone and hash some of it out. Already when we continued our rehearsal later in the afternoon, I lost some of the quality and sound that I had sweated over with Ros. Nerves, the early rehearsal process, the fact we're not off book yet, all added to my inconsistency, which is forgivable. For now. But I want to feel solid and sure of the vocal part of the character by the time tech comes around. I want it to just be there.
Overall, I've been good. The sheen of my Malta vacation has faded with my tan but I'm still in a pretty good place. What's more, I feel like I've gotten to the acceptance stage of leaving the UK. I really like it here. But there are some things I do miss about the US, and more specifically NYC. I miss the brutal honesty of it. It's hard to hear the truth sometimes, especially when it is delivered in a way that can border on vicious. But you can count on it. If someone lays out the rules, you follow them or you get fired. If someone doesn't like you, they don't pretend they do. It takes too much energy. Sure you've still got those people out there who will ask themselves whether or not they should stay on your good side so they can use you or ride on your coat tails just in case you find any small success, but there are also enough people out there who work with you because they want to and that is reason enough. I miss knowing where I stand with the City and the people in it. I've always had a problem with NYC being an unfair place, but at least it's open about its nepotism. More so than any other place I've ever been to. And even going back to WA for a bit will be nice. A reminder of something familiar and a different world than where I am. Sometimes we create a world that is too small, where the people you surround yourself with are the only people you see, and pretty soon you start believing that that is the ONLY world there is. The problems or annoyances are magnified. Egos inflated or crushed. Disagreements and disappointments are gargantuan. And loneliness is all encompassing. NYC is lonely in its own way. Don't be mistaken. I remember my complaints before. You are always alone and yet never alone. You are surrounded by noise and smells (especially in summer). Kindness is not on a free flowing tap. You have to hustle and it can be humiliating. And if you are not careful, it can suck you in and before you realize it, you've been there for years and done nothing with your life other than becoming bitter and unforgiving.
Part of me knows that I am going there because no where else feels right. Part is going there because I at least know how it works and would prefer going to one building for three auditions as opposed to driving all over a smaller city for two auditions that are for no or low paying gigs. No thank you. Not for me. Not anymore. And part of me still hopes that a miracle will happen and I'll figure out that there's somewhere else I'm meant to be. But there is one thing I DO know. This time, the City and I will be on more equal terms. I do not want to just live in survival mode, but rather strive for the career and lifestyle that I want. Which, my friends, is not a cheap one. I am worth that. I just really need to work on deserving it.
I believe in karma. I believe that even if you don't see immediate results or even if you NEVER see results, the good and the bad stick to you. You take it with you where ever you go. And I am not a natural do gooder. I'd like to be, but it's work. Lately, I have slipped into feeling catty or spiteful at times. Which really, how is that productive at all? Who does that help? No one. Because it hurts those you feel that way towards, poisons the ears that hear your venom, and you end up feeling like an asshole who can't find anything better to do than rain on others' parades. In the end, you want people to be happy for you when good things happen, you want them to believe you deserve whatever success you get, and you want to feel that for yourself as well. There is a fine balance between the venting fairy who expels whatever troubles you have so that it does not live inside you, and the shit-talking wench who talks something to death in order for people to pat your head and say "oh no, you are terribly right." One is healthy. The other destructive. However tempting and natural that bitch may be, she will turn on you the minute you shut your eyes. So, one must try to resist.
So. The weekend is here. I will get some sleep, I will get things done, and I will try to do and be better. Because that's the point isn't it? To earnestly try.
x
Sunday, July 15, 2012
Mermaids for Dummies and Shiny Things
Soooooooooo, I have the attention span of a peanut. If something is shiny and even remotely interesting, I will abandon all thoughts of productivity. But despite that, I've managed to get a few things done over the past ten days or so.
My five days off were mostly uneventful other than I made an effort to make a dent in my research project. One of the few papers we have to write, my focus is on Michael Chekhov's Atmosphere and using it in different theatrical contexts. ...zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.
I've still managed to go to the gym and will be upping that even a little more due to the next project we are working on. Casting for our New Works piece has been solidified finally and I was cast in the role of the Mermaid. Yes. Like for real. Though costumes have not been hashed out yet, I can assume I won't be wearing a Miu Miu or burka so I have been given another challenge of keeping this whole exercise nonsense up. Sigh. I know, I know. It's good for me. Fine.
Tuesday and Wednesday this week we had our writer Rona Munro back in with us for our first rehearsals. We read through the scripts, combed through the hidden meanings and subtext and put it roughly up on its feet. Once again I have the pleasure of working with PB as a director. He works at a pace that I can appreciate and I know he won't let me feel like a beached whale.
The challenge with the mermaid, in the way that it is written, is that she doesn't respond off of the words and reactions of the other characters. Rather, she feeds off of what they feel. ...ok. So it will be yet another interesting non traditional acting approach for me. I figure by the time i get to do a project that is straight forward, I'll either not know what to do with myself or it'll be a walk in the park. One could only hope. It's a good challenge though. I mean, really, how DOES one become a mythical creature? (And no, it is not going to be like The Little Mermaid with orangy hair and shell bra). The rehearsals went well and involved me being semi tied up on a kitchen table for a few hours. Ah, life. Just another day at the office.
Friday was my one day at Glasgow University where we rehearsed a new play for four hours, ran through the program in the afternoon, and then showcased in the evening. I was not a fan of the writing but surprisingly, it went quite well. And I can't complain when MAR is my scene partner. I trust him as an actor, he makes me pee myself laughing, and I know he will always get the job done. Which I am grateful for since I woke up that morning in a terrible mood. Had he not been there, I probably would have thrown something breakable.
During the rehearsal we did an exercise that had us reading our lines on the tops of our voices. There were about fifteen chairs spread out around the stage. The point was that everytime you come to a punctuation mark, you had to run to another chair. And everytime you came to an exclamation mark you had to stand on the chair and exclaim. ...the writer of the piece used more punctuation than actual words. By the end of the twenty pages we had sweat dripping down our faces and were out of breath. No. Muy. Bueno.
This weekend I once again dedicated what little attention I had to writing my research paper. I finished my first draft and will send it off to be checked today. As a bit of a treat, last night a few of us went to a pub called Avant Garde where I went to my first Scottish Ceilidh dance. Basically it's like a southern US hoe-down. Hysterical. And lots of fun. And the gin and lemonades weren't too shabby either. It was the first time in a while that a night out felt easy and normal. Huzzah.
Other bibs and bobs of activity included teaching a ballet class to some of my cohort girls, drinks with LY, and watching some of my cohort in As You Like It at the Botanical Gardens. Just trying to shove as much positivity into my last two and a half months as possible.
I wish I could make this more entertaining but like I said, my attention just can't handle it. I suppose I could talk about...ooooo! [Stacy exits stage right, following something shiny].
Thinking of you x
My five days off were mostly uneventful other than I made an effort to make a dent in my research project. One of the few papers we have to write, my focus is on Michael Chekhov's Atmosphere and using it in different theatrical contexts. ...zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.
I've still managed to go to the gym and will be upping that even a little more due to the next project we are working on. Casting for our New Works piece has been solidified finally and I was cast in the role of the Mermaid. Yes. Like for real. Though costumes have not been hashed out yet, I can assume I won't be wearing a Miu Miu or burka so I have been given another challenge of keeping this whole exercise nonsense up. Sigh. I know, I know. It's good for me. Fine.
Tuesday and Wednesday this week we had our writer Rona Munro back in with us for our first rehearsals. We read through the scripts, combed through the hidden meanings and subtext and put it roughly up on its feet. Once again I have the pleasure of working with PB as a director. He works at a pace that I can appreciate and I know he won't let me feel like a beached whale.
The challenge with the mermaid, in the way that it is written, is that she doesn't respond off of the words and reactions of the other characters. Rather, she feeds off of what they feel. ...ok. So it will be yet another interesting non traditional acting approach for me. I figure by the time i get to do a project that is straight forward, I'll either not know what to do with myself or it'll be a walk in the park. One could only hope. It's a good challenge though. I mean, really, how DOES one become a mythical creature? (And no, it is not going to be like The Little Mermaid with orangy hair and shell bra). The rehearsals went well and involved me being semi tied up on a kitchen table for a few hours. Ah, life. Just another day at the office.
Friday was my one day at Glasgow University where we rehearsed a new play for four hours, ran through the program in the afternoon, and then showcased in the evening. I was not a fan of the writing but surprisingly, it went quite well. And I can't complain when MAR is my scene partner. I trust him as an actor, he makes me pee myself laughing, and I know he will always get the job done. Which I am grateful for since I woke up that morning in a terrible mood. Had he not been there, I probably would have thrown something breakable.
During the rehearsal we did an exercise that had us reading our lines on the tops of our voices. There were about fifteen chairs spread out around the stage. The point was that everytime you come to a punctuation mark, you had to run to another chair. And everytime you came to an exclamation mark you had to stand on the chair and exclaim. ...the writer of the piece used more punctuation than actual words. By the end of the twenty pages we had sweat dripping down our faces and were out of breath. No. Muy. Bueno.
This weekend I once again dedicated what little attention I had to writing my research paper. I finished my first draft and will send it off to be checked today. As a bit of a treat, last night a few of us went to a pub called Avant Garde where I went to my first Scottish Ceilidh dance. Basically it's like a southern US hoe-down. Hysterical. And lots of fun. And the gin and lemonades weren't too shabby either. It was the first time in a while that a night out felt easy and normal. Huzzah.
Other bibs and bobs of activity included teaching a ballet class to some of my cohort girls, drinks with LY, and watching some of my cohort in As You Like It at the Botanical Gardens. Just trying to shove as much positivity into my last two and a half months as possible.
I wish I could make this more entertaining but like I said, my attention just can't handle it. I suppose I could talk about...ooooo! [Stacy exits stage right, following something shiny].
Thinking of you x
Thursday, July 5, 2012
The Raven Himself is NOT Hoarse. Shoot it.
There is a peculiar type of bird, somewhere near the roof of my building that sounds like it is dying a horrid and gruesome death. The cawing/screeching/ululating is constant, in surround sound, and is driving me batty. It is but a slight improvement to the bourbon drinking chain smoking british harpist who liked to have loud sex with her window open in the room next door. But only slight. Dear baby Jesus, please put both out of my misery. Their misery. Ok, I don't care who's misery, just press the almighty mute button on them both. Please and thank you.
First week back. It was better than I had expected though not as full as I would have liked.
Monday, we had a speaker come in from a company called Visible fictions.
Tuesday, we had a clowning class mixed with a bit of Feldenkrais technique.
Wednesday, we had a speaker from the Oran Mor company.
Thursday, we had a fantastic actor/director/political activist Cora Bisset in the morning and then a rather brash casting director in the afternoon.
...and now I have the next five days off.
I should be grateful. But I'm not. I'm mildly annoyed. I hate being idle. But I've created a to do list a mile long to keep me occupied, even though none of the "to do's" give me pleasure.
I find I don't really want to talk about the speakers this week. I'm still sort of in a vacation kind of mood where I can't be bothered to find just the right words to express my thoughts. But the one day I know I need to touch on was the Clowning.
A representative from the Plutot La Vie company came in and gave us an introductory class on clowning. Something that A: scares the shit out of me. and B: makes me think of red noses, climbing out of small cars, and doing somersaults and other tricks that are not funny. I'll be the first to admit it, I was wrong. It was a really good day. Clowning isn't about schmacting and trying to make people laugh. You can't muscle or force anything. It's about the opposite. It's about simplicity. Clowns see the world in a different way. They see the beauty and awe in the smallest things. They look for approval and applause but in an honest way. As our speaker said, it is Skill not Will. And also, "Stanislavsky: An actor prepares. Clowns...don't." Clowning is also about vulnerability and embracing failure. A clown is the eternal optimist but the one who will never "get it right." It is the biggest lesson in that "there is no right." And if the clown achieves their goal, it will not be for long. There is no shame with a clown. There is no alterior motive. And at the end of the day, when everything has gone tits up, they will be the first to think, "that's alright. I'll get it tomorrow."
It frightens me. To be able to stand in front of people, get something completely "wrong" and then have someone say to me, "That was a complete failure, Stacy Lynn. Do you know who's fault that is?" And for me to have to say in front of everyone, "mine." But that's part of what a clown is. It's feeling what you feel, in your most vulnerable state, and then letting EVERYONE see that. But there's also a pure freedom in engaging with a crowd and not trying to be clever or to impress. The goals are simple: get applause, be appreciated. Everything else is secondary. I think that wide-eyed optimism would be good for me. I can't believe I'm saying this but, if I were to take any classes in the future...I'd probably look more into clowning. If it makes you feel uncomfortable as an actor, if it makes you feel like you want to run or hide...it's probably exactly what you need.
In other news, I'm addicted to Wimbledon. I spent four hours in a pub yesterday watching the Ferrer v Murray quarterfinals and will probably be glued to the telly tomorrow to watch Murray v Tsonga. For some reason, I've really gotten attached to the game.
In my excess time that I see coming up, I will be writing my research paper, researching the NY and shakespeare festival job circuit, and possibly starting to write a novel. I don't know. Maybe. I've been feeling the itch for some outside creativity. And if I can't turn off my brain, I had better use it.
I'll end this by saying that I also received my grades for the past term. It was the first time we'd been given a number instead of a pass/fail. Go figure, my reviews were mixed. It was to be expected considering my Renaissance experience and the fact that I think writing subjective personal summative statements about acting is absolute dog shite. I've had a few moments where the old Stacy, the one that never settled for an A- and always felt that anything less than a 4.0 meant that I was mediocre, came back to taunt me. But then I remember it's not about grades. No casting director is EVER going to ask to see my report card. They don't care if I got a "disctinctive" or "merit" rating on my diploma. Some won't even care that I got a Masters. In the end, it's about my acting and whether or not they want to work with me. What it's really about, truly, is whether they believe me or not. That's what I want. When I act, I want you to believe me. And so far, I think I'm doing just fine on that account.
First week back. It was better than I had expected though not as full as I would have liked.
Monday, we had a speaker come in from a company called Visible fictions.
Tuesday, we had a clowning class mixed with a bit of Feldenkrais technique.
Wednesday, we had a speaker from the Oran Mor company.
Thursday, we had a fantastic actor/director/political activist Cora Bisset in the morning and then a rather brash casting director in the afternoon.
...and now I have the next five days off.
I should be grateful. But I'm not. I'm mildly annoyed. I hate being idle. But I've created a to do list a mile long to keep me occupied, even though none of the "to do's" give me pleasure.
I find I don't really want to talk about the speakers this week. I'm still sort of in a vacation kind of mood where I can't be bothered to find just the right words to express my thoughts. But the one day I know I need to touch on was the Clowning.
A representative from the Plutot La Vie company came in and gave us an introductory class on clowning. Something that A: scares the shit out of me. and B: makes me think of red noses, climbing out of small cars, and doing somersaults and other tricks that are not funny. I'll be the first to admit it, I was wrong. It was a really good day. Clowning isn't about schmacting and trying to make people laugh. You can't muscle or force anything. It's about the opposite. It's about simplicity. Clowns see the world in a different way. They see the beauty and awe in the smallest things. They look for approval and applause but in an honest way. As our speaker said, it is Skill not Will. And also, "Stanislavsky: An actor prepares. Clowns...don't." Clowning is also about vulnerability and embracing failure. A clown is the eternal optimist but the one who will never "get it right." It is the biggest lesson in that "there is no right." And if the clown achieves their goal, it will not be for long. There is no shame with a clown. There is no alterior motive. And at the end of the day, when everything has gone tits up, they will be the first to think, "that's alright. I'll get it tomorrow."
It frightens me. To be able to stand in front of people, get something completely "wrong" and then have someone say to me, "That was a complete failure, Stacy Lynn. Do you know who's fault that is?" And for me to have to say in front of everyone, "mine." But that's part of what a clown is. It's feeling what you feel, in your most vulnerable state, and then letting EVERYONE see that. But there's also a pure freedom in engaging with a crowd and not trying to be clever or to impress. The goals are simple: get applause, be appreciated. Everything else is secondary. I think that wide-eyed optimism would be good for me. I can't believe I'm saying this but, if I were to take any classes in the future...I'd probably look more into clowning. If it makes you feel uncomfortable as an actor, if it makes you feel like you want to run or hide...it's probably exactly what you need.
In other news, I'm addicted to Wimbledon. I spent four hours in a pub yesterday watching the Ferrer v Murray quarterfinals and will probably be glued to the telly tomorrow to watch Murray v Tsonga. For some reason, I've really gotten attached to the game.
In my excess time that I see coming up, I will be writing my research paper, researching the NY and shakespeare festival job circuit, and possibly starting to write a novel. I don't know. Maybe. I've been feeling the itch for some outside creativity. And if I can't turn off my brain, I had better use it.
I'll end this by saying that I also received my grades for the past term. It was the first time we'd been given a number instead of a pass/fail. Go figure, my reviews were mixed. It was to be expected considering my Renaissance experience and the fact that I think writing subjective personal summative statements about acting is absolute dog shite. I've had a few moments where the old Stacy, the one that never settled for an A- and always felt that anything less than a 4.0 meant that I was mediocre, came back to taunt me. But then I remember it's not about grades. No casting director is EVER going to ask to see my report card. They don't care if I got a "disctinctive" or "merit" rating on my diploma. Some won't even care that I got a Masters. In the end, it's about my acting and whether or not they want to work with me. What it's really about, truly, is whether they believe me or not. That's what I want. When I act, I want you to believe me. And so far, I think I'm doing just fine on that account.
Sunday, July 1, 2012
Buh Danke Danke and the Maltese Falcon
I feel good. Like, really good. Like, back on track-gonna make it happen-who's your daddy good. I can't remember the last time I had a vacation that was actually a vacation. Where I didn't have to think of what's next or what's now, but just rest. Sure, the past two weeks have given me time to deal with what was. But even that is a luxury. I hadn't realized how long I've been putting off just dealing with myself. Figuring out why I'm feeling a certain way. I've been able to really decompress, sift through the muddy garbage that's been clinging to me, and I feel like I have some clarity. I just hope I'm able to hold onto it for my final three months here.
Somewhere along day 11 or 12 of vacay, I got this feeling of excitement about a new beginning again. About the end grad school and really putting the pedal to the metal and getting out there and making things happen. It was the first time I thought of "the after" and didn't feel completely shit-your-pants-petrified. The fear is still there. But there's something more now. It's like a little mental cheer leader/dominatrix cracking her whip saying, "ooooooooo it's time to make things happen."
But back to the vacation. Malta was perfect. Sure the hotel was below par, we had no air conditioning the first night, and when we tried to boil water in the kettle it blew the electricity in our room...three times, but that didn't matter. We (KS, and I) wanted quiet, to read tons of books for fun, and get sun, to swim in the pool, to walk around the local town, and to swim in the blue lagoon. Check, check, check, check, check, check, check, and check. Photos are up on facebook if you care to take a gander.
I look in the mirror now and see a healthier skin tone and a more relaxed face. We lived off of granola bars and hodge podge sandwiches that we assembled from a tiny bodega down the street. We barely spent any money on food except for those two pizzas on the terrace and a glass of REALLY lovely white Maltese wine. And in the end, miraculously, I even lost a pound.
What's more, I laughed my ass off at least once a day. The filter and reservation that I keep a tight strangle hold on (most of time I don't realize I do it) slipped and we had some seriously silly and stupid moments. Which was really great. It's a side I don't see of myself often and that I wish would come out more. KS is good about that. I feel completely comfortable making an ass out of myself, and we can occupy a room for hours reading and not feel like we have to entertain each other. That's rare for me. Normally I get homocidal after a few days. But ten days and we never had a hitch. But then again, I could see on her face how badly she needed this kind of vacation, too.
But yes, I caught myself laughing at myself in the shower remembering something I did, we did reenactments of Titanic on the balcony, and were ridiculous both times we had a layover in Dusseldorf, Germany. Which by the way is the quietest airport I've ever been to. Stupid case in point: I believe there was an instance where I referred to a bum as a Buh Danke Danke.
After Malta we flew into London and drove to Oxford to KS's mum's cottage. Like a real cottage. It was like something out of "The Holiday" movie. Older than my country, surrounded by gardens, horses running next store, church bells in the distance, and peace and quiet. Oh. Yes please. Her mum made wholewheat homemade pancakes which were AMAZING and for dinner Kate made homemade wheat pizzas which were incredible. The first day all we did was sit on the couch eating HobNobs (I will miss these), drinking tea, and watching Bridezillas and Wimbledon. I really got into tennis for the first time (although Nadal really needs to get a new tick. The whole picking wedgie and then rubbing his nose thing...ew). And I also watched Faulty Towers for the first time which apparently is iconic.
The next day we went into Oxford to walk around the University a bit. Whoa, people. Talk about money, ancient tradition, and gorgeous architecture. You could just smell the Eliteness. And I felt a bit of a pang. I would have loved to go to a school like that. I admit it, I like prestige. Oxford, to me, is right up there with Yale or USC. And the power of a name...well it may cost a lot, but the amount of doors that open to you...well it's almost worth it. But I am where I'm meant to be. And I'm pretty darn happy about it. So whatever.
Anywhoo, then I hopped a bus to Stratford-upon-Avon. Just a day by myself, walking around the small town, seeing where Shakespeare was born and where he died, seeing the Royal Shakespeare Company theatre buildings, the small shops, the small river. It's the epitome of quaint. I stopped into a small cafe (avoiding the Starbucks and Costas and Neros because it just felt wrong to choose a conglomerate in such an historical setting) and proceeded to have a really nice cup of coffee and the best strawberry cream cake ever. I sat reading, by myself, with a huge grin on my face, content.
The train ride back into Glasgow was eventful. We got up extra early and took a bus into London, then the subway to the train station. Then we took the train towards home. But about three hours into it the conductor came on the intercom to tell us that there was a landslide and we had to get off the train because it's been cancelled. This is where the efficiency should come in. But alas, this is the UK, where efficiency is a dirty word. We and a couple hundred people waited for coach buses. Not enough arrived. So KS and I followed a rather good looking talkative gent onto a train from Preston to Oxelholm. He entertained us the whole way. Then after more waiting, they put us on an hour long cab ride from Oxelholm to Carlisle. Then another train from Carlisle to Glasgow. It was a very long day. And as we came into Glasgow Central, I sat there thinking "this is the first time I'm not uber enthused to start back up again." Being relaxed is addicting.
The following day I was up early to go to a conference that was being held at the RCS. It was geared towards voice and speech teachers but they allowed a few actors to come as well. I was hoping to get some good seminars out of the bunch and one of the speakers was John Tiffany, the artistic director of the NTS (National Theatre of Scotland). Big cheese. So I went. and I have to say, the best thing about it was the food. I learned very little. And it just reminded me that I've been in school way too long. I am in NO way saying I know everything. It is IMPOSSIBLE to know everything in acting. But you can only get the basics so many times before it just becomes annoying. There really comes a point when it's just time TO DO. To experience through doing. To get a job, and learn on it. And I think that's where I'm at. There are times that I worry that I'll come back to NYC and get out there and get a big ol' shock in that I'm below par. But mostly, I just know that it's time to stop being a student and get out there. But anyway, the people were nice at the conference. The cake pops were nummy. And the glass of wine and excessive amounts of coffee I drank were much appreciated.
Other than that, I've been trying to get my life in order to start again tomorrow with a week of seminars. woop. woop. But I feel good. And that's just dandy.
Somewhere along day 11 or 12 of vacay, I got this feeling of excitement about a new beginning again. About the end grad school and really putting the pedal to the metal and getting out there and making things happen. It was the first time I thought of "the after" and didn't feel completely shit-your-pants-petrified. The fear is still there. But there's something more now. It's like a little mental cheer leader/dominatrix cracking her whip saying, "ooooooooo it's time to make things happen."
But back to the vacation. Malta was perfect. Sure the hotel was below par, we had no air conditioning the first night, and when we tried to boil water in the kettle it blew the electricity in our room...three times, but that didn't matter. We (KS, and I) wanted quiet, to read tons of books for fun, and get sun, to swim in the pool, to walk around the local town, and to swim in the blue lagoon. Check, check, check, check, check, check, check, and check. Photos are up on facebook if you care to take a gander.
I look in the mirror now and see a healthier skin tone and a more relaxed face. We lived off of granola bars and hodge podge sandwiches that we assembled from a tiny bodega down the street. We barely spent any money on food except for those two pizzas on the terrace and a glass of REALLY lovely white Maltese wine. And in the end, miraculously, I even lost a pound.
What's more, I laughed my ass off at least once a day. The filter and reservation that I keep a tight strangle hold on (most of time I don't realize I do it) slipped and we had some seriously silly and stupid moments. Which was really great. It's a side I don't see of myself often and that I wish would come out more. KS is good about that. I feel completely comfortable making an ass out of myself, and we can occupy a room for hours reading and not feel like we have to entertain each other. That's rare for me. Normally I get homocidal after a few days. But ten days and we never had a hitch. But then again, I could see on her face how badly she needed this kind of vacation, too.
But yes, I caught myself laughing at myself in the shower remembering something I did, we did reenactments of Titanic on the balcony, and were ridiculous both times we had a layover in Dusseldorf, Germany. Which by the way is the quietest airport I've ever been to. Stupid case in point: I believe there was an instance where I referred to a bum as a Buh Danke Danke.
After Malta we flew into London and drove to Oxford to KS's mum's cottage. Like a real cottage. It was like something out of "The Holiday" movie. Older than my country, surrounded by gardens, horses running next store, church bells in the distance, and peace and quiet. Oh. Yes please. Her mum made wholewheat homemade pancakes which were AMAZING and for dinner Kate made homemade wheat pizzas which were incredible. The first day all we did was sit on the couch eating HobNobs (I will miss these), drinking tea, and watching Bridezillas and Wimbledon. I really got into tennis for the first time (although Nadal really needs to get a new tick. The whole picking wedgie and then rubbing his nose thing...ew). And I also watched Faulty Towers for the first time which apparently is iconic.
The next day we went into Oxford to walk around the University a bit. Whoa, people. Talk about money, ancient tradition, and gorgeous architecture. You could just smell the Eliteness. And I felt a bit of a pang. I would have loved to go to a school like that. I admit it, I like prestige. Oxford, to me, is right up there with Yale or USC. And the power of a name...well it may cost a lot, but the amount of doors that open to you...well it's almost worth it. But I am where I'm meant to be. And I'm pretty darn happy about it. So whatever.
Anywhoo, then I hopped a bus to Stratford-upon-Avon. Just a day by myself, walking around the small town, seeing where Shakespeare was born and where he died, seeing the Royal Shakespeare Company theatre buildings, the small shops, the small river. It's the epitome of quaint. I stopped into a small cafe (avoiding the Starbucks and Costas and Neros because it just felt wrong to choose a conglomerate in such an historical setting) and proceeded to have a really nice cup of coffee and the best strawberry cream cake ever. I sat reading, by myself, with a huge grin on my face, content.
The train ride back into Glasgow was eventful. We got up extra early and took a bus into London, then the subway to the train station. Then we took the train towards home. But about three hours into it the conductor came on the intercom to tell us that there was a landslide and we had to get off the train because it's been cancelled. This is where the efficiency should come in. But alas, this is the UK, where efficiency is a dirty word. We and a couple hundred people waited for coach buses. Not enough arrived. So KS and I followed a rather good looking talkative gent onto a train from Preston to Oxelholm. He entertained us the whole way. Then after more waiting, they put us on an hour long cab ride from Oxelholm to Carlisle. Then another train from Carlisle to Glasgow. It was a very long day. And as we came into Glasgow Central, I sat there thinking "this is the first time I'm not uber enthused to start back up again." Being relaxed is addicting.
The following day I was up early to go to a conference that was being held at the RCS. It was geared towards voice and speech teachers but they allowed a few actors to come as well. I was hoping to get some good seminars out of the bunch and one of the speakers was John Tiffany, the artistic director of the NTS (National Theatre of Scotland). Big cheese. So I went. and I have to say, the best thing about it was the food. I learned very little. And it just reminded me that I've been in school way too long. I am in NO way saying I know everything. It is IMPOSSIBLE to know everything in acting. But you can only get the basics so many times before it just becomes annoying. There really comes a point when it's just time TO DO. To experience through doing. To get a job, and learn on it. And I think that's where I'm at. There are times that I worry that I'll come back to NYC and get out there and get a big ol' shock in that I'm below par. But mostly, I just know that it's time to stop being a student and get out there. But anyway, the people were nice at the conference. The cake pops were nummy. And the glass of wine and excessive amounts of coffee I drank were much appreciated.
Other than that, I've been trying to get my life in order to start again tomorrow with a week of seminars. woop. woop. But I feel good. And that's just dandy.
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