Such sky

Above the rush-hour traffic, the crowds huddled and hurrying to get on the next bus, the noise that ends the workday, the clear sky fades from blue to black.  The stars prepare for their nightly dance.  All is still.  A holding of breath.  Waiting, and full of possibility.

Anything can happen now.

Almost Friday

This wren is hopping around and peering in all the windows...perhaps it wants to come inside.  Cold out.  Breezy, too.  The sun is welcome, at least for me, my mood is better without the gloom.  Still feeling relatively uninspired.  My creative endeavor being making broth on Tuesday and making soup this morning.  Lately, I feel a bit of pride if I cook anything at all.  Lord knows I spend enough time thinking about it.  We're meeting on Saturday to work on ideas for the February show, there's a possibility of one in December as well.  The creativity is sometimes easier in motion, and bouncing ideas around off other people

Unexpectedly have tonight free.  Rehearsal got moved to yesterday, and between that and Tuesday having been a holiday, I've lost track of days.  Got a bunch of plays staring up at me, (every time I walk into the library to return anything, I end up walking out with one more than I had, so the pile keeps growing.)  Couldn't see well enough last night to read: eye exam, left me blurry and, even five hours later, looking like a love-sick seal, with my massive pupils.  Could kinda' read the music at rehearsal, didn't seem like reason enough not to go, I've missed too many this season, so I went.  I believe the right play is Comedy of Errors, or at least that is written down in relation to nothing around it.  I do have it now.  Not sure what I'll do on Sunday.  Just not feeling Emilia from Othello.

Not feeling any of these monologues at all, but you can't wait for inspiration to move ahead, just have to keep trudging through, believing that if you do the work, eventually you will see progress.  It's not all for nothing.  I keep thinking about what J said, "If you really want it, you'll make it happen."  (I know that was issued as a challenge.  I accept that, think about it daily.)  And I do, more than most things.  Just feeling doubt.  I know I've done good work in the past, so I'm capable, just not getting to the same level at the moment.  Unsure of what would get me there.

I need to find or make more opportunities to work with other people.  The isolation isn't really working for me.

Generosity

Cracked, November 10/L Herlevi 2014

Think I just read the wrong play, can't recall what the right play was.  My audition teacher/coach gave me a Shakespeare play to look at, but I can't find where I wrote it down.  Ended up reading "All's Well That Ends Well," and a stripped down version at that (no stage directions, really.)  I'm looking for a comedic Shakespeare monologue.  I didn't present anything in class, and need to come up with something for this week, I can't remember if this is a six- or eight-week class.  If it's six, we are half-way through, and I don't have anything close to being presentable.

Went to a drop-in improv class earlier tonight.  I'm trying to come up with some clown material and am feeling blocked, or stuck.  Thought the improv might help ideas flow, or to at least get to a place where that can happen.  I thought it was just going to be he and I (which intimidated me a bit, I've never done this type of improv before, just with character work and clown, so I didn't know what to expect-no one else had shown up), and he was helping me start something.  A couple other people came in a little late, and we did story generation work.  He's a very generous teacher.  He's never done clown, but has an idea of what that would be, so was trying to work with improv techniques that would go in that direction.  I'll probably go again, maybe bring some other people along.  I'm doing a different workshop next week, more related to auditioning.  (Of course, all that is a moot point if I don't get a head shot.)

Birches, November 11/L Herlevi 2014

The temperatures have gone from almost 60 to somewhere in the 30's, with the wind.  At least it was sunny; spent most of the day outside to make the most of that.  Now I'm sitting here in my coat still, trying to warm up after waiting for the bus.  I'm not complaining, though the heat doesn't seem to make it's way into the attic.  There were people sleeping in doorways with just a single blanket.  That would be miserable, I wished I'd had extra hats or gloves or something to offer.  It'll probably be in the 20's tonight with a wind.

Internet connection is goofy, so that's all I'll write.

I am grateful for the roof over my head.

Restless and irritable

is how the show left me feeling last night.  One of only four shows I've wanted to walk out of, in the past couple of years.  Part of this is related to seeing a lot of shows lately, you're not going to like everything, though there are usually elements in every show that I liked, including most of these.  And for the record, I didn't walk out of any of them (2 theatre, 1 dance, 1 film.)  Two of those shows just needed a really good editor, one needed a deeper grasp, and with the other, the choice of  material was bad.

I sat with friends last night, we were all a bit irritable afterward and snipping at each other.  Apologies have been made.  In general, I don't care for existentialism nor theatre of the absurd (so that's my baggage), but if it's done really, really well, I can handle it.  And since it's part of the canon of modern theatre, I'll go see it.  Part of the problem I think, in doing it here, is that France in the 1950's is not the US at any time in our lifetimes.  The theatre is about lack of meaning, and the pointlessness of it all, the giving up trying, and in general, Americans historically have a "can do," optimistic, gonna try, mindset.  So, we are not steeped in a culture of nothingness, and an end of hope.  And I'm not sure how you learn it enough to get it across.  So performing it without that background, however one would acquire it, seems like a difficult task.  I asked another friend about it today, he said the point of Beckett was how to carry on, when there is no meaning.  (In general, a lot people would end up killing themselves when they lose any sense life having meaning, so I guess being able to carry on would be good.)  I enjoyed Bill Irwin performing Beckett, but I think he's spent so much time with it that he gets it, and can communicate through it.  I also think the pieces with clown elements in them, work better than the straight acting ones.  Clown inhabits that uncertainty, loss, resigned place better.

The explanation today helped, but I'll probably never really enjoy it like I do other art forms.  I'll just go to it knowing it will push my buttons, 'cos it does really get my goat.  And although, I'm never gonna like it, I'd like to understand it better.  And take it in really small doses.

Also, somehow as a result of that show, a brief sentence from a friend, a lot of walking in the sun and thinking, and watching "Before Sunrise" (seriously good dialogue, those movies), I went into an emotional void.  Things that having been bothering me for a long, long time, suddenly don't anymore.  They just don't matter anymore.

Friday

Always nice to be surprised by a show.  Went to see "Vanya and Sonia and Masha and Spike" by Christopher Durang at ACT earlier tonight.  And while it started slow, and I thought R. Hamilton Wright as Vanya and Marianne Owen as Sonia seemed to be hamming it up a little in Act I, they both just nailed it by the end of Act II, she with her phone conversation (and there was a cheer from the audience when she changed her mind and said "yes" to the date; it seemed that everyone wanted her to be happy, to have something in her life go good), and he in his rant against the disconnection of modern society, in the middle of the performance of his play (which was also taken off of the avant garde play in "The Seagull.")  So by the end, it ended up being one of my favorite shows of the year.

It had a stellar cast (R. Hamilton Wright, Marianne Owen, Cynthia Jones, Pamela Reed, William Poole, and Sydney Andrews) and the set, lighting, sound, costuming, all worked together in the service of telling the story, no element out of place, or competing for attention (not always the case.)

The story is Sonia, Vanya, and Masha are middle-aged siblings.  Sonia was adopted, Vanya is gay, and Masha is a movie star.  Sonia and Vanya spent all of their earlier adult years caring for their parents and have never worked outside of the home.  Sonia is miserable, Vanya writes plays.  Masha was gone all those years, but she was the one working to pay all the bills, as well as give the other two stipends.  She comes home unexpectedly for a neighbor's costume party, and brings along a boy toy named "Spike," probably half her age.  She announces that she is going to sell the house.  There is also a housekeeper named Cassandra who enters the house with sweeping negative prophecies.  (Neither she nor Spike have any connection to Chekhov.)  And Nina is the attractive niece of the neighbors.  A young, aspiring actress, that Spike discovers and invites along to the party.  Masha expects to be the center of attention, dressed as Disney's Snow White, but it is Sonia who steals the show, dressing up and pretending to be Maggie Smith on the way to the Oscars, which brings out a more social and sparkling side of her personality.

The next day, Sonia gets a phone call from someone who met her at the party and wants to ask her on a date.  If she's ever been on a date, it's been over 20 years, she eventually agrees.  Nina reads Vanya's play and convinces him to have it performed/read for the group.  She plays a molecule.  Spike starts texting in the middle of it, and when confronted for that, says he can multitask, which sets Vanya off on his rant.  Spike admits he is running off with Masha's assistant.  She sends him away.  And then relents to not selling the house.  (The abruptness of that choice wasn't really believable to me.)  It ends with them listening to the Beatles.

I think my enjoyment of it was (fortuitously) increased by my having read, and seen, so much Chekhov lately.  And while it was loosely based on Chekhov's writings, there were a lot of references: the cherry orchard, the thought of losing the family home, the play, "Uncle Vanya," the character of Nina, the idleness, the unhappiness, etc., as well as some direct lines from "The Three Sisters."  So, that was a nice coincidence.

Speaking of Chekhov, I'm halfway through the Lydia Avilov book.  It's interesting, though a bit of a clunky translation (can't always tell who is speaking.)  Also, partially through my third (and final for now) reading of a translation of "The Three Sisters," this one by Richard Nelson.  I prefer the McGuinness and the Friel translations.  Apparently, Mamet also did one, but I'm on to other things after this one.

Missed a show I had a ticket for that started at 11 pm.  I'd wanted to go, but I'm tired, and didn't feel like waiting for a bus on 3rd Ave at 1 am.  (It was 60 different, 60 second acts.  Really wanted to see what people come up with for one minute of performance time.)  Maybe next year.

Torrents

Rainbow, November 6/L Herlevi 2014

Looking out the window I saw a rainbow, ran out to take a picture of it, it started to rain.  Finished getting dressed and out the door, raining harder, standing water in the streets.  By the time I got off of the bus, it was torrents, wind pushing it uphill in gusts, rivers in the streets.  No where to step to avoid the standing water.  Drenched by the time I got into work.  Ever grateful for the radiator, drying off the dress, and reminding myself that aside from an earthquake or a blizzard, there are other reasons to keep an extra set of clothes at work. 

Emergency Shoes, October 31/L Herlevi 2014

The rain continued to be interspersed with bright blue sky, sunny and breezy, as if nothing had ever happened.  Wringing it all out of its system to feel better, like a massive mood swing.  We are in between things.

(I have no idea why the formatting did this.)

In a break in the weather, ran to the library and traded in one Chekhov for three others.  Wild Honey, a short play anthology, and a book called Chekhov in My Life by Lydia Avilov.  Seeing one more Chekhov-based work and then two more Beckett, and then I don't know what's going on with me...I can't keep track any more.  It's all on one calendar, except all the singing gigs.

Re-read Frankie and Johnnie during an idle spell.  Not sure if I'll keep the monologue, though I like the play.  Thinking about "driving action," not sure it's strong enough.  There are a couple other sections I might try to make a monologue out of, but they change the subject a lot.  Might look at Riches, too, since I already did a lot of character work on her.  I need something ready by class.  Trying to come up with clown ideas, too, I have some, but they are vague at the moment, need to be worked.

At any rate, trying to focus on what I can control (as our audition teacher keeps saying, but applies to life as well), and to lessen worrying about what I can't.  Easier said than done, the part that hurts is stubbornly holding onto that.  Staring at the lack and making it seem bigger than what is there.  I'm aware of the good.

Oh, darkness of approaching winter

Still in a funk.  It's kinda' a perfect storm of gloomy weather, not eating enough, not sleeping enough, the sudden earlier onset of darkness caused by the time change, and not feeling like I'm good at anything because I've been trying to learn a lot of things over the past couple of years, and I don't feel like I'm progressing, and I'm not sure how to change how I'm approaching it, and I'm feeling a little isolated, among other things, though, that's a lot in itself.  It'll pass.  I'll tell people, have already told people.  I won't pretend like it's not there.  Saying it out loud takes away its power.

The courage to do any of this is good, it's just the being stuck at a point that I'm having trouble moving beyond that's frustrating.  It seems to happen a lot, it did with photography as well, and I still haven't named the barrier, or answered "why?"  Actually, now that I think about it, another reason I took the (recent) first acting class (aside from wanting to be a performer) was to try to work around a block I had been having with photography.  I figured whatever was getting in the way of moving forward could be addressed from a different perspective.  It wasn't an issue of skill, (though it is now with acting , and dancing, which require practice) but rather a wall, beyond which I'm not following through.  We all have those, thoughts that get in the way.  Thoughts we aren't always aware we have, buried so far down in our being we take them as truths. But if they keep clipping our wings (as someone else put it today), they keep us from pursuing our lives.  They aren't true, just some message someone gave us long ago, doesn't matter why, only that we believed it, buried it, and lived as if it were true.  (I'm referring to judgments, the ones that bully us in our heads.)

I have a free night, already picked up my mail, and walked home, the long way.  It was peaceful.  The rain had stopped by then, and the standing water had begun receding.  It was very quiet.  Highlights were passing two separate cars getting jumped (must be the time change, traffic's been awful the last couple of days, too) and a raccoon crossing someone's yard, right as I turned on my street.  Otherwise, just lost in my own thoughts.

Looking forward to reading (I really love reading Dickens.)  Or watching a movie.  Working on the monologues, too.  I always feel funny saying them out loud at home: I have housemates...they do all know about the acting thing, though.

Less than two months until it gets lighter again.  And while I like all the holiday decorations, winters get harder every year.

Just ate way too much salt...olives, cheese, and crackers.  Feeling parched.

Really should be sleeping

Another night of Chekhov (three short stories and a short play), and I'm exhausted.  Not from the Chekhov, just haven't been sleeping enough.  I'll have to read those now, too.

Finished the second version of The Three Sisters, and seem to have misplaced Othello.  I could borrow another copy, but I think I'll work on one of the contemporary monologues in class this week, instead.  I've been having trouble figuring out the motivation for one, and could use new eyes on it.  Or choose a different monologue from the play where intentions are more clear.  I mean, she wants him to leave here, but there are a lot of different ways to say that or mean that; and I haven't been able to get clear on the how.  She doesn't want him to go away forever, just right now.  He doesn't seem to really have boundaries, or get hers.

What keeps us from waking up even when we know it would be a good thing to do?  What makes us think anything will ever change when day after day things play out the same?  There probably is a place you could let yourself be fulfilled, less tortured, loved...what keeps us from going?

Fk.  It's all just making me lose faith in myself, that things will ever change, or that I'm anything more than a dilettante.  Cure for that is to work, but I need to find a new way of doing that, 'cos what I'm doing now isn't making any difference.  I feel like I'm stagnating or sliding backward.  I'm just feeling out of my league.

Fail better.  Fail more.

Tuesday-Talking out loud

My eyes are blurry from getting olive oil in them.  (Used it to remove mascara.)  Between that and the fact that I really need reading glasses, I had a difficult time filling in the voting bubbles neatly.  The trees are blowing about, and the sky is lightening, I should probably leave soon.  I like that the mornings are brighter, but not that it's dark when I get off of work.  Two more months and the days get lighter again.

I think I'll start asking my classmates for more feedback on the monologues, I sometimes probably offer too much, but the way the class is set up, seems to provide for that.  Normally, you never would, but I find it helpful to see what is hitting someone else, and if they have suggestions of things to consider, I'd like that information to work with.  (Especially with the Shakespeare.)  I find the feedback loop of performer asking or telling what they see the reason for the monologue is, and then the response, etc, great for distillation and clarification of why you have to say this now, and what change you want, helpful.  I have trouble seeing that in my own work, I suppose it's the lack of distance, plus unless you film it, you can't actually see what you are doing (physically.) If there is an audience there, why not ask what they see (both physically, and mind pictures)?

And watching the other people work, and hearing the notes and the feedback, is also useful.  The counterpart monologue to mine got run again, and figuring out what he is really saying is helpful to me, it's one of our last contacts before mine.  (I think he's telling me he loves me, and that I deserve better in life.)  Also, someone did a piece from "Orange Flower Water," and hearing the discussion and feedback of the text and the character made me like it just a little (hated it when I read it last year.)  I can better see the character's frailty and loss, and so can relate to why she did what she did, even if there really are no excuses.

My Shakespeare monologue just doubled in length, I'll need to do some research for that one.

Time to go to work.

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