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.
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