Sunday evening

Another night, another soaking, and this one in just one block.  Missed the debate, somehow I thought it was tomorrow night.  At any rate, was attending a performance about magic mushrooms at On the Boards.  I got on a volunteer list last year, and so get to see shows in exchange for taking tickets or watching the door.  So, I signed up.  Didn't think I was all that interested, in that I don't do drugs, but in general, I like seeing the performances at On the Boards because of the mix of artistic disciplines.

Have to say, I was pleasantly surprised to love this show.  Probably my favorite performance of the year, so far.  Everything worked:  story-telling, movement, costume, embodiment, sound, lighting...it was everything I want in a performance.  I was also surprised to find tears running down my face at one point, and I think the woman next to me might also have been crying.  I couldn't tell you why or even where (though, in the first half); he's just a good story teller (Alan Sutherland, Little Brown Mushrooms.)  (And Douglas Ridings as the chicken...nailed the movement and behavior, without being a cartoon, he was a chicken.  Not actually sure why there was a chicken, but I liked it.)

The performance begins with talk about space, about Sputnik.  And then about building a spaceship to travel to other worlds.  So a rocket ship is built on the side of the stage, and then the two dancers lure the chicken to it, and I suppose I thought they were just gonna send it off alone, but they loaded themselves into it as well.  It had to do with the idea of what would you take with you?  And a pet seemed like a good idea, and a pet chicken, even better, as they also lay eggs.  He later goes into the life-cycle of the mushrooms, and how they have evolved to grow around humans, their preferred growing medium being something produced by humans.

I was talking to someone about Paradisical Rites (St. Genet, 2013) before this show, Sutherland was buried on stage through the first two acts of that, and he referenced that at the beginning of the show tonight, saying that no one would be buried alive, or beaten, or made to bleed in this show (there was nothing violent about it at all.  There were children in the audience.)  The person I was talking to also mentioned that I should compare Ridings performance in that show, with his chicken in this one, and see what I think of his range.  I think all the performers are fully committed to what they are doing.

(I also mentioned that as much as I hated that show, due to things it brought up for me, things I carried into it, it stayed with me, and made me dig deeper, and that I think art should do that (though perhaps not always so violently so.)  He (the man I was talking to) said he thought about it for weeks after, as well.  He also mentioned that things such as drug abuse and assault shouldn't be glossed over, but should be violent and painful to watch, because that's closer to reality.  Perhaps we gloss it over (tv, movies, etc) because we are (rightfully, perhaps) frightened to face it head on, we'd rather it didn't exist, or at least not in the sphere where we live.  But it does, (I come across used needles on a daily basis now), and yet if it's invisible, we don't have to do anything to make it better.  If we have to look at it, maybe we will work toward real solutions, maybe we'll see someone we love, or someone like us.  There are a lot of traumatized people out in the world, the path we're on isn't really working, a series of bandaids, to push it down the line for someone else to solve.)

Show

Not sure what I witnessed, exactly.  Came in a little late, after missing the bus.  Ran to the theatre, hoping they'd still let me in (they did.)  Had to wait in the stairwell, and was mid-way through reading the "rules", at a point where I was supposed to say something out loud that began, "I will be brave..." when the door opened and I was let in.  The program was a map of the space, as well as an invitation ("You are Chosen"), to a party, that the actors are also chosen for.  And so throughout, there was an anxiety regarding what this party was for, what it meant to be chosen, and what the right outfit for the occasion might be (white, wedding-type dresses.) There were signs in each room (where you could wander in and out of at will) of what was expected, but I only remember actually seeing two of them.  I put make-up on someone, and screamed with a few people (which was fun), and drank tea, had red chalk put on my arm, and helped with a dress...and it was interesting, but I don't have the program, and I'll have to re-read what I've seen written about it to grasp it further.  This would be "Girl" at Annex, an immersive theatre piece.  (One review spoke of a Hero's Journey, and another of what we expect of women.)  In the end, we were led into the theatre (later I saw there were paper cut-outs of clothing, like on a wash-line, hanging up behind us), where the "girls" sang, wearing white dresses, and wrapped their waists in cords, in some sorta' ritual, and then a large, white envelop dropped from the ceiling, for their efforts.  Inside was a letter that read, "You Choose."  And one by one, they exited the stage, and then we all exited the building.

Go See This

The autumn colors linger into November, deepening into reds and oranges not usually seen, a nice contrast with the morning showers.  Now the sun has come out, and the gray is lifting.

On Tuesday, I saw "Mr. Burns, a post-electric play," by AnneWashburn/Michael Friedman, dir. by John Langs, at ACT.  It was $20-ticket night, the house was full.  I don't want to review it here, only to say that it's worth seeing.  It's exciting work, provocative, not as in titillation, but in that it fills my head with ideas, (and I'm trying to write about that, not where I want to be with it yet), and even if some people commented that it was hard to follow, I found it to be the type of theatre that thrills me (the whole big concept of the thing.)

The basic story is Act I, survivors of a nuclear catastrophe gather around a campfire and piece together the re-telling of the Simpson's episode called "Cape Fear," a story involving the movie "Cape Fear" as well as "Night of the Hunter."  There is a ritual also of whenever someone new comes along of naming names to see who is alive.

Act II, same characters, seven years later.  In some sorta' town or city, making "movies" of scenes in order to survive.  A nice dance/song mash-up, routine here.

Act III, seventy-five years later, a musical/re-enactment of story, as it's evolved by that point.  I'm gonna say that last one is open to interpretation as to what's going on, exactly, there might be a specific, but I don't want to know it, it's more interesting to wrestle with what exactly is happening, more fertile ground for thought and exploration.  (What happens to stories as they are passed down over time through oral traditions?  What gains and loses significance depending on the teller or the audience?  Or what drives the need to repeat the story?  What do we do with it?  How does it shape our culture or our identity?  What do we accept as unassailable "truth" over time, where did it come from?  Are we willing to seek the source or do we blindly accept the way things are assuming they were always that way?  How do societies change or advance over time?  Who controls the message?)

A fantastic cast: Anne Allgood, Christine Marie Brown, Andrew Lee Creech, Erik Gratton, Claudine Mboligikpelani Nako, Bhama Roget, Adam Standley, and Robertson Witmer.  An especially fine job of physical acting by Standley (Mr. Burns), Mboligikpelani Nako (Itchy), and Creech (Scratchy) as the heinous "bad guys" in Act III.  So good.

Always more to do

Well, I asked.  And now for all the correspondence I've been putting off (because I don't know what to say, because it intimidates me, and yet it's hanging over me like a cloud to remind me to do, etc.)

Spent the earlier part of the day raking gravel for the garden project (leveling for ADA accessibility.) Ran home and then caught a bus to St. Mark's just in time to meet up with the procession for Alice Gosti's "How to Be a Partisan."  A five-hour immersive performance, on the anniversary of Italy's liberation from fascism.

While I didn't always understand what was going on, the experience overall was phenomenal.  Very site specific: the music was written/chosen for the acoustics of the space, as well as the choreography, and the use of natural light, ending the performance as the daylight disappeared.  The music was transcendent (although, at one point was louder than any rock concert I'd ever been to.)  The soloist managed to stay in the basic same position, at the front of the space, for five hours, all while a red liquid, pooling from melting ice, slowly dyed her dress from white to red; by the last half hour of the five, it was completely transformed, and must've been uncomfortable, but you'd never know if from looking at her (Hanna Benn.)  And she had a gorgeous voice.  And the dancers performed during most of the five hours, doing lifts four hours in...humbling, they must've been exhausted.

And the performance and the audience shared the space.  The audience was free to move, to come and go, while the performers also moved in the same space (sometimes literally, as when they used the pews people were sitting in, to move through).  People talked throughout (not loud enough to be a distraction), though during the last half hour, as the lights dimmed, and an occasional tone would emanate from the organ, the dancers lit only by pen lights they held, moving methodically from aisle to aisle, until they had wound through the entire audience, you could've heard a pin drop.  (I thought I heard a radio, but when I put my ear to the door, it was the evening song of birds.)

There's another event related to this one, to get a sense of the bigger picture of where this came from, and what people experienced (and what questions emerged, what do you do now?)  (There was a pre-event as well, but I wasn't able to make that.)

There's a lot of exciting art happening in the city right now.  Get out and experience it.

Show

Saw Wayne Rawley's "Live! From The Last Night Of My Life" at theatre twenty-two, tonight.  Believe the hype: it's fantastic, best show I've seen in Seattle.  First off, the script was original and had a perfect mix of pathos and humor, the comic elements never being used to distract from the pain, and in fact heightening it, partially due to Ryan Higgins as Doug Sample, always remaining in that excruciating place of hopelessness and knowing that he made a decision that he plans to follow-thru with.  (Gist is a man working the graveyard shift at a convenience store, a man "full of potential," who has decided that he will end his life at the end of the shift, and he narrates this to the security cameras.  There are flashbacks of the people in his life - his parents, his sixth grade friends, meeting his college girlfriend - and also the people who come into the store that night.  And a certain amount of fantasy/delusion in his head: the way things could play out, his own dance troupe, Danny Zuko.)

The play kept me off balance as to how it would end.  And there were places where it could've ended, albeit cliche (not the play, but a type of ending it might've taken), where it happily did not.  (It took me a while to realize the clock was actually counting down the shift, and that the play wouldn't end before the clock reached 6 am, which also made me realize how essential every part of that set was, no fluff.)  The end was unexpected (by me, at least. I hadn't seen it the first run in 2011.)  Looking at the audience after, everyone looked a bit emotionally wasted and subdued.

(I want to add that the other option for an ending, the one we ultimately didn't get, would also have been believable: it had been earned.  Again, what an awesome script.)

And I will add the caveat that if you've ever been suicidal, you might avoid the show.  There's a point near the end, where Doug is talking to "Danny" about his decision, and "why", and the "why" is so spot-on hopeless that I wanted to plug my ears and sing "la, la, la, la, not listening" so I couldn't hear him.  It's the downward spiral of thought, the one that's hard to break, the one that should have a "do not enter" sign.

I'll write a little more later. It's late.  (Remainder of run is sold out.)

Show review

(I split this from previous post.)

Went to "Nine" and "The Long Road," Arouet at Eclectic Theatre.  "The Long Road," by Shelagh Stephenson is a fantastic script, even though I'm not a huge fan of summary monologues at the end of plays (the actual ending is the prisoner reading the letter from the woman whose son she killed, which helps, and much of this play is in monologue, each character addressing the audience.)  The play begins with the living son describing watching the random stabbing and death of his brother (by a girl strung out on drugs), the rest of the play is how the family deals with that in their own way (the father takes up running, and then when he blows out his knee, drinking; the mother writes a letter to the killer, decides she wants to meet her; the brother wants to be recognized as still being alive, and eventually joins the mother in the visits to the prison.)  Great cast, especially Eleanor Moseley as Mary (the mother), Jared Holloway-Thomas as Joe (the brother), and Abigail Grimstad as Emma (the killer.)  My only quibble with the show was the accents, it might make sense for the parents to have wildly different accents (Irish and British upper class?) say if they were from different places, but then Joe had a cockney accent which wasn't like either parent, so didn't really make sense (though he did it well.)  It was directed by Zandi Carlson, with assistant director, Mariajose Barrera.  It's the US premier of the play.  Sadly, only 14 people in the audience last night, which is a shame.  The sidewalks leading to the theatre are blocked by construction, the signage was poor, the street dark, and it was hard to tell if theatre was actually open, all of which might add to the lack of any walk-up sales.  I had a ticket, and I had to have someone wave me in because it didn't look open.

"Nine," by Jane Shepard, I'll give credit to Colleen Carey and Cynthia Geary (Woman 1 and Woman 2, respectively) for wanting to do challenging work and making that happen.  Had a very Beckett  (as well as Jose Rivera, but more for the subject and the way it plays on stage) feel to me, heightened by the fact that it opens with the actors walking onstage, putting the chains on themselves, and then going to a blackout to begin.  Almost makes it more metaphorical (they put the chains on themselves, what would that mean, then?)  And since I haven't read the script, I was left wondering if that was in the play (which changes the meaning for me) or a director's choice (Paul Budraitis), or the constraints of the space (there was no stage curtain in the theatre, and the set for "The Long Road" was behind a make-shift non-quite-opaque curtain.) They are being held captive, and tortured, outside of the room, and chained apart from each other.  Opens with Woman 1 checking on the condition of Woman 2 who is lying, in pain, on the floor, barely moving, presumably after an interrogation and/or beating, and ends with the opposite, and with Woman 1 slowly fading to death.  I preferred each actor for different aspects, Geary had power and "beauty" in her quiet and writhing movements on the floor; and Carey, when she just let loose and let herself shout finally.  I could feel her strength and power fully embodied, she was completely engaged in it.  Also, the way she faded after her interrogation was beautifully done.  Still, during the back and forth dialogue, in the games they play to stay alive, to stave off fear, I had trouble staying engaged, and I wanted to.  I suppose sometimes the immediacy, the connection between them waned, I wanted more of it. (And this was an early performance, which a lot of the ones I see are; it will evolve as the run continues.)

Day 3

Woke up at 5:30 and tried to run my script, next thing I know, I look over and it's 7 am already.  Did still manage to catch the early bus, but no breakfast, so ran over to the student grocery store to find something I could eat (there wasn't much I could.)  $7 for a small tub of hummus. I passed on that and bought vegetables instead.  Students get gouged at every turn (housing, tuition, food), no wonder they have so much debt when they graduate.  And on another note, why do the majority of dairy alternatives need to have added sugar, and other junk, in them?  If I'm cooking something with it (mash potatoes, or mac n' cheese-neither of which I do at this point, but I used to), why would I want it to be sweet?  An old lingering beef.  And there's way too much added sugar in our diets.

Went to a show last night, almost 3 hours, got home at almost midnight.  It was set in a non-recognized Russian town, around the time of Stalin's rule, but where linear time is not a factor, and it touched on issues regarding loyalty, torture, what you will do for your own ends, but it seemed that every time it was starting to hit deeper, before it could really set into the audience, it went into comic relief (or absurdity) to let the audience out of the uncomfortable places.  I found myself wishing the writer had let those things hit the audience harder.  You're bringing them up, they mean something to you, they should mean something to us, but we get off the hook.  Don't let us off so easily.  At times it made me think of Gogol, as well as a show put on by The Satori Group last year called "Return to the Albert Joseph," (though those both went deeper and held you there unrelentingly), "1984," and Shakespeare (for the use of the comic relief). The show was "Zappoi!" by Quinn Armstrong, at the Annex Theatre.  I didn't mind the comedic/absurdist aspect, just the sudden slight-of-hand use of it, as if to say, "no, I didn't just say that."  Yes, you did, and that was a good thing.  We tend to push these things under the table because we don't want to think about them, and yet, they still happen.  It's good for us to look at it.

I'm about half memorized, I know the gist since I wrote it, but have not cut enough out.  I know an overall staging element I want, but need other eyes on it.  Have been running songs in my head, one after another, but haven't come up with the right tone.  I want it to have an empowering aspect to it, but not overly so, which would be jarring to the rest of the piece.  That'll be my evening: memorizing.

(February 22, 2015) - I guess though, my review is only what I want more of, less surface, a little more depth in life.  But the reality is, so many things that might be deemed "important" are drowned out by things such as celebrity news or the latest diet trend or reality tv.  On any given day, the news feeds online are filled with distractions: something about the Kardashians, something about the Duggars, what some woman wore and how hot (or not) she looked in it, disregarding anything about her personality or anything she might actually think or have done, or some actual story blown up out of proportion (OJ Simpson trial, Jody Arias trial, minute-to-minute coverage of a snowstorm that doesn't actually manifest, etc) to distract while decisions that actually affect your life get made, that you don't hear about.  So, that sleight of hand is everywhere, "There is poison in the water...this just in, so and so debuts her post-baby bikini bod!" (So the drunken bear playing the violin and the stereotypical, airheaded, teenage sexpot, aren't that far off base.  And yeah, it was probably supposed to be a comedy, or at least absurdist, but you bring in the interrogation element, so...?)

Almost a show

One of these bugs going around finally caught up with me.  It might have been inevitable what with all the sneezing and coughing going on.  Think it's only a cold though, nose running like a faucet and my face hurts, mostly my jaw.  Anti-inflammatories don't help much, just have to wait it out.   At least the sore throat part was less than a day, when I was younger that'd last for weeks.

I think our show is coming together.  We had second-to-last rehearsal tonight.  We know the order, and who's moving set pieces.  We worked our piece a few times, new person added, it's set at three now.  Coming together, using clown elements.  In spite of being sick, I was more present than I have been and my energy was high.  I spent a couple hours in the studio earlier today working on a movement piece for class, due tomorrow.  Not sure I have anything, but it made for a good workout.  I mostly wanted to see what type of characters emerged from particular modes of movement and gesture, not sure exactly what is expected.  I feel like most people will have a dance, but I didn't really go in that direction, hopefully, it's good enough.  I'm not really a dancer, and I'm still trying to find my clown, so I spent time on that. Then I went home and took a nap, taking the rest of the day as a sick day.  Eventually crawling out of bed to go to clown jam.  Had to.

I've re-written my solo piece from last week, in the event it's what I end up using.  It's still a little muddy.  Someone asked me what it was about and I had trouble answering, so that's something I need to get clear on.  You should be able to say it in a sentence or two.  I'm gonna try to do that with every play I read now, it's good practice.  It helps you focus, know what the point is, what everything is leading toward.

There are a couple of solo showcases going on around town.  Gonna try to catch some of them, see what people present, and how they do that.

I should attempt to sleep.

Morning

The morning remains soft and still, even the sound of the cars feels muffled and far off.

Last night: a strong, yet soft, wind blowing.  The air smelling like spicy, white flowers, blooming just a little early.  The evening still light, reaching in inches further north as the days progress toward spring.  Writing in Joe Bar, the smoky scent of popcorn rising into the loft, preparations for a party, auctioning off remnants from the Harvard Exit.  I ran to catch a bus downtown before the festivities began, but the crowds and rumble of voices grew with each passing minute. 

Went and saw the Seagull Project's "The Three Sisters."  Loved the set, lighting, staging (Jennifer Zeyl, Robert J. Aguilar, John Langs, Dir.)  Didn't understand the female costumes, didn't seem to be set in any particular time, and that lack of specificity distracted me from the overall story, what was the setting, then?  Favorite character in this production was Irina (Sydney Andrews), favorite in the Cornish production had been Olga (Jenna Vershen), I think it was the choice of translations, stage time, and the former Olga was played as more of a heroine in her own life, than in this one.  (In Act III, in the confrontation with Natasha over Anfisa, the Cornish Olga dominated, and in this production, Natasha (Hannah Victoria Franklin) did.)  And in the Cornish production, I felt a greater sense of dreams diminishing more and more as each Act followed the next, 'til I arrived at the end with the sense that the dream of Moscow was laid to rest, but life would go on.  The sisters would face reality, and go on. I had a stronger sense of what story (out of many) was being told by that director (Paul Budraitis), everything leading to one conclusion, a "driving action" if you will.  (And that concept of storytelling is becoming more clear for me as I see it.  The concept drilled in by my audition teacher.)  In this version, though they faithfully told Chekhov's story, I wasn't sure what the "driving action" was, where was it all going?  And last night the audience laughed in odd places, during what seemed like serious confessions, though maybe there was a choice made to play them more melodramatically, and so they were playing for a laugh, i.e., the scene in Act IV, where Masha (Alexandra Tavares) is saying good-bye to Vershinin (David Quicksall), and is wailing and not wanting to let go, even before the point where Olga (Julie Briskman) was trying to drag her away, and she was still hanging on, people were laughing.  Was that supposed to be funny?  When the one thing in life that brought you happiness is leaving, is that funny?  I don't know.  It's possible I read somewhere that Chekhov's plays were comedies,(according to Chekhov) but I can't remember now.  I think my favorite actor in the show was Noah Duffy as Rode, (and CT Doescher as Tusenbach), I just enjoyed his time on the stage.   But overall, there were characters on stage who moved in bubbles.  Most of those characters distinct, actors making interesting choices, but not connecting with the others.  Finding small details and missing the bigger picture (again, driving action.) Perhaps they needed more time in ensemble.  Or perhaps, that's a conscious Chekhovian choice, to talk but never connect, to want to be heard but not to listen, as we often do in life.  (I had the same response to the Cornish production, they connected more, but didn't have the text that night I saw it, though both productions got more solid after intermission.)

The overall feeling of the production worked for me.  I found the play and characters running in the background of my mind after, even when I thought I was thinking about something else.

Time for the day to start.

Beautiful

Went to another Chekhov show tonight, "The Three Sisters," Directed/Adapted by Paul Budraitis, and performed by the senior ensemble at Cornish.  It opened last night.  I missed the 7 pm bus, caught the next one, which was running late, and got dropped off no where near the theatre with 10 minutes to curtain.  Ran.  Made it, the ushers came in to sit right behind me, but then it didn't end up starting for five or ten minutes after that.  I'm glad I made it, it's only playing two weekends, and this was the only night I was free.

Beautiful staging.  Minimalist, three-dimensional metal outline of rooms in the house, everyone always on stage, and when they weren't in the scene, wearing big masks over their heads.  I had seen a photo of that earlier, and was wondering if they were going to perform the whole play that way, and wondering how the sound would carry...they played the scenes without them, sometimes they did background vocalizations through them, which created a subdued sound dynamic under the scene being played, which I liked.  I'm still not sure "why" the masks, but I liked them.  I love the staging particularly in Act IV, both with the house shrinking to a box (or a cage) for the sisters (the shrinking of possibilities at that moment?), and the way the duel was staged, the latter of which was unexpected, and so worked really well.  (Go see it if you are in town.)

He definitely has a style: a sense of uneasiness; sound, lighting, mood, set design, staging: dark, minimalist, touching a void; I would definitely recognize his work, even if I didn't see his name on it.  When I saw that show, "Cold, Empty, Terrible," last week, it was so much like his, that I wondered if they'd seen his work.  Kept thinking, "this reminds me of Paul," throughout the whole thing.  (Take that as you will, but there was hardly any dialogue, and not a lot of explanation to hang onto...mind wanders, makes associations.)

I connected more with the play the further along it went, there was more connection to the words, between the actors, and I think with the audience, in Act IV than in Act I, plus, it's the culmination of everything: all they've been talking about "going back Moscow," everything you dream life would turn out to be, or tried to force into being, comes to fruition, and the realization that you don't get your dream, but you carry on (like Nina in "the Seagull.")  Up until that point, life would happen "tomorrow", whenever they could return to "Moscow," and so they stagnate in anticipation of that day, some future when life would be better.  But in Act IV, it comes into "Now." (Spoiler alert, they never return to Moscow, but they do emerge from the box.)

It's late.  I'd like to spend more time with this play.  When I read it, I think, "I want to come back to this," and I thought that tonight as well (and also during "The Man Who Could Forget Anything" show.)  I feel like there's a lot I want to think deeper about, but because I'm also trying to read through it, it stays on the surface.  Things like: what the characters represent, both in context of the play, and in the current climate; what was going on in Russia at the time; cultural context; the idea of finding meaning in doing work; the way Natasha treats people; thoughts about happiness and fulfillment; the difference in mentalities of Russian thought vs US thought and how that affects what you believe your life can be; evolution, and the future, among others.

Maybe I'll write more later, or edit for coherency.  I still have music and a monologue to get solid by tomorrow.  But I liked the show.

Ooh, wait.  Time change, get an extra hour.

Show Poster, Oct 31/L Herlevi  2014

Wednesday Evening

Just got home from the PAPT's (UW Graduate School for Drama) production of "Cold Empty Terrible."  A bit of experimental theatre created by the director, ensemble, designers over the course of the past half year.  The point of departure was Treplev's play at the beginning of Chekhov's "The Seagull."  (I did mention earlier that Chekhov is either being performed or influencing a lot of work around town right now.  This is another one.)  Very much an ensemble-based movement piece, the only real dialogue being Chekhov's words from that play.  They are quoted three times, I guess for Past, Present, and Future.  It was like a dream, or a nightmare, depending on how you looked at it:  Moody sound, lighting, stage design, lots of repeated actions.  Not ever very sure what was going on, or why, but I enjoyed watching it.  I liked the way they moved, saw a lot of things I've had some exposure/worked with, used.

I won the tickets at the Mad Art event last month.  Ended up going with the right companion, he found it interesting, said he liked it. (One of my former theatre classmates.)

Didn't not make call backs.  Didn't really expect to, it was a two-person show, and I don't have much experience, not that I couldn't have done it, but I don't know I'd go with me either, with the lack of experience.  (And it gives me the time to start working on this emotion thing; the audition reinforced for me that I need to start again on that.)  Kinda' excited that I can get some reading for pleasure done without feeling guilty about not doing character work.  I'll still do that, just won't be the only thing.  I really want to read a book.

Rambling again

Feeling very oily, just had my back worked on, feels ever-so-slightly better.  (Should've gone ages ago, but was waiting for a doctor appointment so I could get a prescription for massage, though in retrospect, I could have called and asked for it.  I suspect I need more than massage for this, but it's a start.)

Went on an art tour as part of "Mad Campus" at the UW.  Along with the tours today, many of the artists were also there.  (And I won tickets to an upcoming show as part of ArtsUW, which was a partner in this event.)  The show itself is up until October 23, and I'd seen most of it, but I wanted to hear what other people had to say, and any input the artists had as to why this work, why this space?  And it was enlightening.  I always enjoy hearing about concept, or what influenced it, or how you got from A to B or Q or something.  Had a good conversation about finding balance, as well as the intersection of where art, artist, and audience meet, and how you bring the audience into an interaction with the work, and still leave space for them to discover and stay interested.  Always like to talk about that.  More info on Mad Art here:  http://madartseattle.com/.

On Friday I took the day off to get some volunteer hours at the P-Patch office.  Usually that would involve stuffing envelopes, but ended up doing some mapping work, looking up the nearest intersections to every garden.  Really enjoyed it, made me want to go out and physically check all of them, since some of them didn't show up on the aerial views.  This is the kind of stuff I like doing, the person I did it for, does not, so it was a good fit.  I wandered around the rest of the afternoon taking pictures (cats that can fly, I guess):

Jet-packed, Sept 26/L Herlevi 2014

Flying Lion, Sept 26/L Herlevi 2014

I also went to go see eSe Teatro's "Don Quixote and Sancho Panza: Homeless in Seattle," by Rose Cano, directed by David Quicksall, at ACT.  She wrote this adaptation after working as a medical interpreter at Harborview Medical Center, as well as having had many conversations at shelters and other service centers that work with: homeless, addicted, immigrant, uneducated, mentally ill, etc., populations.  It follows Cervantes' story arc for the most part, just changes the location to Seattle, and the characters to people living here.  It closes tonight.

I haven't written because I haven't figured out how to say what I want to say.  I think fear keeps us from seeing one another as equal.  (As someone on Sunday said, we puff up celebrities and politicians with hot air and self-importance, and then do everything we can to knock them back down.)  We could trade places, and we hope and work so that we don't with those we view as below us.  Does having money, or "beauty", or youth, or sanity, or health, or an education, or a stable government make anyone more worthy than those who lack those things?  So much of that was luck of the draw, genetics, fate.  In our fears, we create a "them" to demonize, to fight against, to dehumanize, so that we can separate ourselves from them, and say "that will never be me."  War, or natural disaster, or illness, or loss can change our lives in an instant...if that were to happen, who are you?  When the outer trappings are gone, who are you?  And how is that worth more or less than anyone else at their core?  Did we all have dreams of what we wanted to be?  How many of us got there?  What got in the way if we didn't?  How much resilience do you have?  Some people have a lot, some very little.  (I know there are people who "cheat" the system, but they exist up and down the income spectrum, not just among the poor; I'm not talking about them.  I'm talking about everyone else.)  What's the story behind the face we wish we didn't see?  There must be something.  We are more alike than we aren't.

Number two for the week

Edith Wharton is so freaking depressing, but the show was good anyway, great adaptation, casting/performances (especially Annette Toutonghi's vocal and physical transformation as Evelina Bunner from Act 1 to Act 2), etc.  There is a reason I tend to avoid reading her, takes me a while to shake it off, the unfulfillment and lingering sacrifice for nothing, though I will admit that the second act brings a certain satisfaction of throwing off that need to always be a martyr, in Ann Eliza Bunner's eyes being opened to the truth that it was no better to have been a martyr than to have taken what she wanted.  No good came out of the former.  There was no purpose for it.

The show was "The Bunner Sisters" at the Theatre Off Jackson, directed and adapted by Julie Beckman.  Ran into a friend and he drove me home, so what would take an hour was instead less than ten minutes in a car.  Grateful.

Bug bite, show

Internet connection has returned.  Sitting around, pouring vinegar on my elbow in hope that it will help with this bite I got yesterday (unknowingly, walked into the bathroom after the 14/48 show and pulled up my sleeve to look at my elbow and it was swollen to 2x it's size and really hot; never felt anything bite me.)  Went to a potluck at the garden earlier and people offered advice, one of whom was doctor (so my lucky day, in a way) and he said it's mostly just wound care at this point.  Someone else suggested vinegar (as well as the baking soda paste and/or meat tenderizer-can you still buy meat tenderizer?) It's still really hot to the touch and feels like someone punched me hard in the elbow whenever it touches against anything. Apologies for the photo.

Angry elbow, Aug 16/L Herlevi 2014

Initially, I thought my immune system had just decided to go completely nuts (always a possibility) and I was panicking about that prospect.  And then I thought I was having an allergic reaction and wondered if I should go to the hospital.  But I just ended up jumping off the bus and buying benedryl at a convenience store that was open, since nothing is in my neighborhood.  Thought I got lucky in catching a bus with a number I wanted on it, only to have the bus driver say half-way through the route, that he had the wrong route number, although half the route was the same.  Got off and waited another hour for the right bus.  The Seahawks' game had just gotten out, so buses were running late.  In retrospect, coulda' stayed for the 10:30 pm show.  I like seeing them the second time, they are often different (lines more down, change in interaction or meaning, etc.)

The theme was "If It Ain't Broke, Don't Fix It," and only loosely used in the plays.  (Very loosely.)  Act I: "But New Thoughts Appear in Our Mind," by Pamela Hobart Carter and directed by Maria Glanz (Melissa Fenwick, Sydney Tucker, Jocelyn Maher, and Deniece Bleha) two girls and their pets (birds? gerbils? rabbits?...probable birds, but unclear, something living in a cage.)  Animals talk about escape, but forget, girls have a parallel experience, and eventually one opens the cage, but the birds (?) forget to escape and she decides they don't want change after all.  One of the girls escapes.

"Candiru Means I Love You," by Scot Augustson, directed by Peter A. Jacobs. (Adria La Morticella, Heather Gautschi, Alex Matthews, Jaryl Draper.)  Man in doctor's office with pain in his penis, finds out he has been invaded by a parasitic (?) fish when he pee'd in a river. Problem is solved with singing.

"Olive Juice," by Courtney Meaker, directed by Kathryn Van Meter. (Steven G. Sterne, Brian D. Simmons-who was an excellent dog, and Mik Kuhlman.)  Couple shows up at a block party with their dog who wants to play "ball" but they get into an argument (ongoing) and forget about the dog. Something is resolved.

"The Tukwila 500," by Bret Fetzer and Juliet Waller Pruzan, directed by Peter Dylan O'Connor. (Patrick Gautschi, Brad Farwell, Elicia Wickstead, Imogen Love, Emma J. Bamford.)  Car race.  Announcers discuss the twisted path of the three drivers.  Two women, who became a couple, moved in together in the 'burbs.  One has an affair with other's best male friend, and eventually leaves her for him.  Jilted lover wins the car race, other two walk off as a couple.

Intermission.

Act II.  "Three Girl Pile-Up," by Jennifer Dice, directed by Beth Peterson. (Cody Smith, Jim Jewell, Jake Ynzunza, Joe Zavadil.)  Stage dads at a meet-and-great for the dads at a beauty pageant for their daughters,where they try to out-compete each other and the newbie dad tries to figure out how to fit in.

"Sand Script," by Jerry Kraft, directed by Jen Moon.  (Jesica Avellone, Kevin Bordi, Shawn Law, Meg McLynn.)  Couple chooses to go to "nature" therapy with therapists rather than jail time.  End up shipwrecked on a deserted island.  Therapists bicker, and have only theory, while "troubled" couple work together to save their butts.

"Let's Talk About Monica," Becky Bruhn, directed by Ali el-Gasseir.  (Gin Hammond, Lori Lee Haener, Scott Abernathy, Andy Jensen, Ryan Spickard.)  Two couples outside for a BBQ, discussing their favorite detectives and the death of "Monica" thought to have been murdered by her husband.  Husband shows up with her diary. Ensuing efforts to collect evidence, and stay away from the husband, proceed.

I could see the theme the easiest in the first one and "Sand Script."  Would have liked to have watched the first act again to try to follow them better.  The second act was more cohesive for me, but they also had the extra hour to work on them.  I enjoyed last week's more, but I suspect that might be partially because I was volunteering last weekend and felt more connected to it.  This week, I'm just an observer.  Can't recall what the theme is for tonight.

Even if I can't always follow it, I do enjoy watching new work get created.  And I appreciate the actors committing to whatever they are asked to do and stretch.  And they do.

Another show

Sometimes things seem meant to be.  So, the power inexplicably went out on our block around 4 pm, it came back on about an hour later, but not in the attic, where I live.  (Apparently, the breaker box is in someone's room, someone who is currently in Vegas.  It's 11 pm now, still no power.  There needs to be a back-up plan.  This was a problem in my former house as well.  The landlords build in as many rooms as they legally can (in this house, more than is legal), blocking off access to water mains and circuit breakers, so the tenants are kinda' stuck if something breaks down and the person who lives in the room is gone.)  'Nough about that, my computer is overheating so I'll write fast.

So I had reserved a ticket to a show, "Hold These Truths," by Jeanne Sakata at ACT for tonight, but I was feeling like I didn't want to go out and was going to call and cancel the ticket.  My singing/polyglot roommate was teaching my musician roommate fado music, which was sounding pretty amazing and I was enjoying listening to it, but as my power was still out by that point, I decided to go to the show after all.

It was based on the life of Gordon Hirabayashi; I wrote about him earlier in the year, after I had gone to a symposium on him.  He was a Nisei, American citizen, who refused to obey the curfew put on American citizens of Japanese descent and also refused to report for internment camp.  He was tried and convicted on both counts.  The conviction was appealed all the way to the Supreme Court, where he lost.  He was retried in 1987 and exonerated, when new evidence emerged that evidence had been suppressed during the original trial.  Even after his exoneration, he spent the last years of his life in Canada.

Anyway, the play was fantastic.  It's a one-man show.  Good-pacing, and a powerful story about principle and courage (as well as cowardice), and wrongs that were committed.  When he was interviewed both for this play, as well as for a documentary that was made in the early 90's, he was very concerned of the same thing happening to other ethnic groups.  It can so easily happen again. (You have to stay awake.  And speak up.)

During the Q & A after the show, one person said that his mother was one of the people who gave money to help fund Mr. Hirabayashi's defense.  Regular people paid for his defense with checks of $5 and $10.  There was a Japanese exchange student in the audience who had just arrived in the States today, her grandmother was living in Canada at the time of the war and her family was forced to sell everything and go back to Japan.  Another man was from a country where something similar had happened to his family, he had just flown back from Stockholm a couple of hours before the show started tonight.

It's powerful.  I pretty much cried through the whole thing.  My only regrets for the show are that it's playing a relatively small room, and for a very short run (four shows, the last of which is tomorrow), so not enough people will see it.  And I feel it's important that people come see it.  We need to remember all of our history, the noble as well as the ugly; as one of the Justices said (to the effect) in one of the other cases (there were three that went to the Supreme Court) that was not a unanimous decision, you can't fight for democracy abroad while letting it crumble at home, because then you have won nothing.

Far and away the best show I've seen this year: story, writing, acting, directing, technical...all spot on.  I've mentioned before that it's important that everyone working on a show should be on the same page as far as the story they want to tell and why...this production nailed that.  Just fantastic.

Friday

After all the structure and tunnel vision of the past year, July was pleasantly chaotic, everything changing at the last minute, moving in unexpected directions, leading to curious consequences.  Creativity growing from that as well as it does from strict form.  Knowing what the norm was and then breaking it.

Lying in the dry grass, attempting to read and dozing more often, the sky has gone from clear blue to completely overcast.  The wind shakes the magnolia leaves, and it sounds like rain drops.  Engines roar overhead, reverberating against the bricks. Anywhere else, I go for cover, here I fall asleep again.  Context is everything.

Went to a night of one acts at ACT, and while there were things I liked about each play, I wasn't crazy about the line-up in general.  With Steve Martin's "Patter for the Floating Lady," I thought there was some beautiful imagery in the language, but not sure that the best vehicle for showcasing that was a play.  The second one was Woody Allen's "Riverside Drive," and much against my will because of my dislike of him, it was my favorite play of the night. It had the most coherent story, and the best dialogue of the three.  It was funny.  But I fell asleep.  At intermission, I was telling that to some friends and one of them also fell asleep, she was thinking it might be the modulation of the voice, how it didn't change, but kinda' droned on and on at the same level, tempo, and tone.  Someone walking past us, was also mentioning that they fell asleep.

The third one was Sam Shepard's "The Unseen Hand," it's just strange, a mish-mash of cowboy and alien. Hanna Lass as the alien "Willie" was fun to watch, the way she moved, spoke, used her face, etc, and the acting was good, but I wasn't crazy about the play.  Great tech on it though: set, lighting, sound, etc, really nice work.  I guess it has to do with free will and self-limitation, and I suppose I can see that, but, eh.  And why did the other actress (who wasn't in this play) skip across the back of the stage during the part where Willie's mind is set free and hail falls from the sky?  Maybe it's in the script, but it seemed very random and unnecessary.

We were curious (and reviews I've read have also questioned) why these plays?  Shepard's is from 1969, Allen's from around 2003, unsure of Martin's.  They probably had a programming reason, but since I don't know it, I'll agree with a review I read, that there was a lack of diversity in the choices: are there no women or writer's of color writing one acts, right now?  It's fine, they are good writers, but, curious as to why that was the programming choice.

Show last night

Went and saw Freehold's Engaged Theatre's production of "The Flower of England's Face: William Shakespeare's Henry IV" last night.  Played in the UW's Penthouse Theatre, (the first theatre in the round in the US) no air conditioning, hot as hell in there.  Great production.  (The Engaged Theatre Program takes Shakespeare into non-tradition venues such as prisons, youth detention facilities, and this one also went to Ft Lewis McChord and Harborview.) I was doing the ticket sales last night.

I hadn't read either "Richard II" nor the "Henry IV's" before, and it was elements of all three into two hours, so I was lost at times.  (It was from the death of Richard II to the crowning of Prince Henry.) That said the acting was solid across the board, but the two stand-outs for me were Christine Marie Brown as Hotspur/Doll Tearsheet and Reginald Andre Jackson as Prince Henry.  Christine Marie Brown is amazing.  I'd seen her do a brief solo performance at a faculty showcase in 2013 and thought that I wanted to work with her (I took a class with her) and she's part of the Sandbox Radio Collective which do live "radio" shows around town (I think they might be podcasts) as well as the Endangered Species Project (which are staged readings) but not in a full production of a play.  I wish I were seeing her around town more in shows, she's incredible.  They are both incredible.  (I have so far to go.)

I wasn't feeling well, and had wanted to stay for the talk-back but left to catch a bus.  Wasn't actually sure I'd make it through the whole thing.  It's playing through the weekend.  I suppose I could read up on it more and go see it again.  It's supposed to cool down a bit.

Sunday

So many ways we misinterpret each other's meaning.  So many ways we don't connect.

Almost two pages of rehearsal notes, but we got out early.  Came home and took a nap and then went to the final night of the NWNW showcase; traded the ticket.  Home two hours earlier than last night.  (Theatre Anonymous, Witness for the Prosecution, Agatha Christie.  Really good, but ran 'til after 11:30 pm, and with bus re-routes and all, it was almost 1 am when I got home.)

Overall, show tonight was beautiful.  David Schmader's We Can All See Your Lips Move, was entertaining, and I realize by the title that the lip-syncing part makes sense, but it felt like he got bored of the performance so sent someone else to finish it (who did a good job), but that's what it felt like.  Pep Talk by Hand2Mouth was fun.  The two dance pieces were beautiful to watch, and Molly Sides' voice reminds me of a female Jeff Buckley (I Once Was My Father.)  Three perspectives in one space,  Coleman Pester//Tectonic Marrow Society was the other dance piece, lovely choreography on that.  Again, with both, wonderful body awareness and the effects of varying states of gravitational pull.  (What it made me think of.)

Pouring down rain when I left the house and again when I left the theatre.   Two hours earlier is still late, but I need to do something regarding the notes (and I'm hungry.)  Less than two days now.

Hyvää yötä.

Thursday

Had a rehearsal for the nursery rhyme thing after work last night and then went to a show at On The Boards, a friend had mentioned it earlier in the day and another friend had given me a comp ticket that I needed to use.  It was a performance piece with two men, presumably friends, throwing out a subject and then deciding if it was a "winner" or a "loser" and discussing why they thought that.  By the end it gets viciously personal, though I won't say about what, and it ends at a point of unresolved tension.  I was telling one of my colleagues that I kinda' wished they'd just punched each other (or I coulda' punched one of them...in reality, I never would, but I kinda' wanted to), something to release the tension.  And we were saying to each other that we like things resolved in theatre, but then I thought, yeah, but to not resolve it is more like life...it's how we are:  We walk away.  We leave things unresolved. We kill relationships because we need to be right.  We kill good relationships because we need to be right, or for the inability to apologize or forgive.  (Part of liking resolution on stage, I suppose, is that we can see how it could've been.  As if there were a do-over for what's unresolved in our memories.)  How do you do that night after night?  They must resolve it somehow, or you'd just end up avoiding or grudgingly acknowledging each other.  And yet, there is also something liberating in being able to be forthright in a relationship and still retain the friendship...you should be able to express yourself, and be able to live with disagreement and the differences between you and still love each other.

Anyway, I'm curious how it's different each night.  There must be improv in there with set points that they hit.  There was also an insightful write up about the performance in the program (!) (So, yea!)

There's a workshop with the performers on Saturday, that I signed up for (I have another commitment in the morning anyway.) And after the show I was thinking, "Do I still want to go?"  Today, "Yes, I do."  It's an active workshop and I want to learn from as many people as possible, and to work on freeing myself up to generating new ideas, to be actively creative.

Seven days. Shit.

Saturday

Went to another "Incubator" show last night.  Again, just really enjoy seeing what people are creating, I think all three pieces were original works; I didn't keep my program (again.)  Last night had the added bonus of Shellie Shulkin, probably my favorite working actress in Seattle, in the middle piece, Serpent's Tooth, by Susan McNally (who also wrote the play Hearts that I went to the staged-reading of on Monday.)  Shit, she's good.  I found all three pieces engaging, nice emotional transitions for the actors.

On the way to the bus after, I am bombarded with requests for money: a quarter, a dollar, more than I usually am.  After I respond, they tell me to "be safe out there."  I feel an odd heat rising up my legs from my feet, from the pavement (?) I don't know.  I don't feel sick anymore (I was most of the day.)  When I look up, I can still see the sliver of the moon fairly high, which also seems odd, I suppose I expect it to cross the sky quicker than it does, it's doesn't seem all that further along than it did six hours before.  I think the bus is late, but it's only because I looked at the wrong schedule.  It's only a little after 9 pm when I get back home.  I watch a strange and wonderful Italian movie called Le Quatrro Volte about a goat herder who dies half-way through, and then it follows the path of his soul as it inhabits a goat, a tree, and a charcoal kiln.  Essentially there is no dialogue, just everyday life.  And the behavior of the animals is also pretty wonderful, especially the goats.  Such strange creatures.

I have a pile of library material, this was one in the stack.  Going to a matinee on my pass, and then hopefully to a third "Incubator" show, it's sold out, but there always seem to be seats, so I'm gonna get on the waitlist.  Ciao.