One of the main events at the end of the first year is each student's presentation of 20 specific movements that we learned over the course of the year. We all have the same repertoire to draw from, but it's quite revealing how everyone does them differently and how each person strings them together in their own unique way. I'd heard that the 20 movements show who you are. That's quite a claim. But I'll grant that there's something to it. I wouldn't say the 20 movements are likely to reveal something that's never come to light before, more that they often crystallize some key parts of what has shown through from time to time.
We 40 or so did our presentations over three days, and we all watched each of them. The 2nd years were invited to come, too, and several did. As did most of the teachers. I'd worked on my presentation quite a bit. I enjoyed the challenge of finding a flow from one movement to another, also including some surprising juxtapositions and varying the rhythms. A few movements take just a few seconds. Others are quite involved--a dozen steps or more. And you can cycle through a movement several times before moving on if you want; so each presentation took a while. Mine was about 8 minutes. You're out there, all by yourself in front of potentially the whole school. The stage is yours. The time is yours. The goal is more to show yourself than it is to hide your mistakes, because often the things that are most difficult for you show you more in your fullness. (The things that are most playful often do, too.)
As I watched others go before me, I often thought of which movement I would go into from the one they were doing, just as a review to myself. The morning I was to go, I was a bit chagrined to see that a classmate had almost the same routine as I'd be doing a few people later. Of the 20 transitions, about a dozen of hers were the same as mine. Oh no, I thought at first, mine's going to look so familiar after this. But each of us does them differently--different bodies, different ways of moving, different things that we bring to it--and so after she'd finished, I realized mine would be different in its own way. I'm not sure anyone but me (and maybe she) noticed the similarities of pattern when all was said and done.
Doing the 20 movements was one of the highlights of the year for me. The feedback afterward was very encouraging, and I got a lot of strokes from my classmates. I don't know exactly what it looked like, but several people commented on the "maturity" I brought to it, which I really do think was not just a way of saying I'm obviously older. (One of the teachers even said I look much younger now than when I started last fall. I am a lot more limber. And lighter.) I won't go into the specifics of the comments here, but apparently something did show through that drew on a different level of life experience. I felt really good about it. It was one of those times (that we all need so much) when I could tell that I really have learned something in my time here.
It was also a time when I could get out of my head and trust that my body knew what to do. I remember thinking at one point in the middle of it all, "Did I just forget something there? Did I skip a movement?" But there wasn't time to stop and fret over it. Actually I could have stopped and done that, but I didn't want to. So I just went on, trusting that my body remembered the patterns I'd rehearsed. I wish I could do that more often.
Wednesday, July 22, 2009
Sunday, July 19, 2009
End of Year 1
Wow. What a ride, especially over the past few weeks. I won't try to put it all in one post.
At the beginning of the 7th week when we presented our final works-in-progress, they were so rough that the teachers decided on the spot that we wouldn't be ready to show them at the scheduled time. So final presentations were postponed by 6 days. A wise decision, though it threw scheduling into chaos (something that happens here fairly regularly). The pieces continued to grow and change in the extra time given. Our piece in particular was disjointed and benefited from the extra days. Even a week later--on the Monday of Week 8--it was pretty awful, but the final 72 hours proved to be fruitful (as well as temperamentally volatile). Two-thirds of what we ended up with was created in the final three days.
The six final group presentations varied greatly in subject and treatment. As did the 50 final projects the Advanced Course students presented in the last two weeks. And the 40 or so individual 20-movement presentations that we in the Initiation Course did on the last Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday. (It's been a busy end of term.) Oh yes, and the nearly 40 double Acrobatics presentations in Week 7--one a set routine, the other created by each of the first years. Except me, who just did a set routine since I had to protect my neck and was pretty low in energy following a weekend of being sick.
I didn't have swine flu, but at least one classmate has had. I'm not sure what the impact has been in the US except to know that Robin had it and got through it OK, but it's starting to hit pretty hard here. They're predicting up to 65,000 deaths in the UK, and I've read of plans to give everyone shots. Concern jumped to a new level last week when a GP and an apparently previously healthy 6-year-old girl both died on the same day. They're expecting up to 100,000 new cases each week. Most of them mild, of course, but the numbers are remarkable. So this is a pandemic...
Moving house
Now that classes are over, it's time for me to get back to work and also to move out of my old digs. I won't be sad to shut the door on that place. Again, fine housemates (what else can one say?), but a bad house to live in. Poorly heated, often infested (flies, mice, throw in a little mold), dark, a crowded little room, not much to offer in terms of location. Frankly, Plaistow--the town I've lived in since October--doesn't have a lot to recommend it. I'll be moving to Clapton (or Hackney--not quite sure what forms the boundary), to a house with more room, more heat, more light, another set of good housemates, in a much more pleasant part of town. A bit farther from school, and not at all convenient to the Tube, but I can live with that. More bike riding lies ahead, as well as increased familiarity with the bus system and parts of the Overground and National Rail.
More anon, depending on internet access. Our connection at home went kaput. (I do not recommend Vodafone Mobile Broadband. I'm locked in one of those absurd situations where to get out of an internet contract I have to negotiate with the company via internet, even though my internet connection with them doesn't work. Grrr. Honestly, why do they even have stores if the staff there just tell you you have to do your business through your computer?)
Another plus of the new house -- wired for internet. And it works.
At the beginning of the 7th week when we presented our final works-in-progress, they were so rough that the teachers decided on the spot that we wouldn't be ready to show them at the scheduled time. So final presentations were postponed by 6 days. A wise decision, though it threw scheduling into chaos (something that happens here fairly regularly). The pieces continued to grow and change in the extra time given. Our piece in particular was disjointed and benefited from the extra days. Even a week later--on the Monday of Week 8--it was pretty awful, but the final 72 hours proved to be fruitful (as well as temperamentally volatile). Two-thirds of what we ended up with was created in the final three days.
The six final group presentations varied greatly in subject and treatment. As did the 50 final projects the Advanced Course students presented in the last two weeks. And the 40 or so individual 20-movement presentations that we in the Initiation Course did on the last Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday. (It's been a busy end of term.) Oh yes, and the nearly 40 double Acrobatics presentations in Week 7--one a set routine, the other created by each of the first years. Except me, who just did a set routine since I had to protect my neck and was pretty low in energy following a weekend of being sick.
I didn't have swine flu, but at least one classmate has had. I'm not sure what the impact has been in the US except to know that Robin had it and got through it OK, but it's starting to hit pretty hard here. They're predicting up to 65,000 deaths in the UK, and I've read of plans to give everyone shots. Concern jumped to a new level last week when a GP and an apparently previously healthy 6-year-old girl both died on the same day. They're expecting up to 100,000 new cases each week. Most of them mild, of course, but the numbers are remarkable. So this is a pandemic...
Moving house
Now that classes are over, it's time for me to get back to work and also to move out of my old digs. I won't be sad to shut the door on that place. Again, fine housemates (what else can one say?), but a bad house to live in. Poorly heated, often infested (flies, mice, throw in a little mold), dark, a crowded little room, not much to offer in terms of location. Frankly, Plaistow--the town I've lived in since October--doesn't have a lot to recommend it. I'll be moving to Clapton (or Hackney--not quite sure what forms the boundary), to a house with more room, more heat, more light, another set of good housemates, in a much more pleasant part of town. A bit farther from school, and not at all convenient to the Tube, but I can live with that. More bike riding lies ahead, as well as increased familiarity with the bus system and parts of the Overground and National Rail.
More anon, depending on internet access. Our connection at home went kaput. (I do not recommend Vodafone Mobile Broadband. I'm locked in one of those absurd situations where to get out of an internet contract I have to negotiate with the company via internet, even though my internet connection with them doesn't work. Grrr. Honestly, why do they even have stores if the staff there just tell you you have to do your business through your computer?)
Another plus of the new house -- wired for internet. And it works.
Monday, June 29, 2009
Moving the finish line
The homestretch just got shorter. Today we found out that, contrary to previous terms in which we made our final presentations on the last day, this term we'll do them a week earlier. Ouch. And last Friday we found out that our Acro presentations will also be in Week 7 rather than Week 8. And on Wednesday to boot. That's a mere 9 days away. Double ouch. As if that weren't enough to mark the nearness of the end of term, a classmate bid us all adieu today. He's leaving Thursday and won't be back. Several classmates are thinking they won't return next year. I don't think it's a disenchantment with the school on any of their parts--more financial concerns, or life intervening--but we've already lost 3 or 4 people since the beginning of the year. We're all supposed to let the school know by the end of the week if we're planning on doing the second year. I don't think anyone will be told not to come back, but as it is we'll be significantly smaller, which is a loss.
¶ Last weekend I saw Ian McKellen, Patrick Stewart and Simon Callow in Waiting for Godot. Yes, it's a truly odd play, but the actors played it with such humor that it was a treat to watch. I read an article a month or two ago in which comedians spoke of the influence that Beckett has had on them (the illustration was a famous photo of Beckett with a clown's nose added). I'd never known that so many people see his plays as comical, but it worked really well with Godot. Maybe that's the way it's always done, I don't know, but clownish or vaudevillian treatment really made the play move along, at times in a touchingly endearing way. There's a lot of cruelty in it, too, but that works well pushing hard against the comedic elements. It was also reassuring to see actors of that caliber stepping on each other's lines occasionally (once, anyway) and dropping their accents from time to time.
And yes, Robin, to answer your question, they pronounced it GAH-doh. Who knew?
¶ I've seen a few plays lately: another odd one (this by Wallace Shawn) called Aunt Dan and Lemon. A one-woman show called Kafka's Monkey, starring Kathryn Hunter. I'm too ignorant to know how famous or well regarded she is but it was an amazing performance. The character is a chimpanzee who's learned to pass as a human, who thinks and feels like a human, more or less, but who still moves and acts like a chimp. Then there was an experimental theatre piece that a few classmates were in and one devised, with all the aspects (for better and for worse) that "experimental theatre" implies. Overall recently, quite a range.
¶ Last night I went to a two-hour African dance class. What a workout, and what fun! Led by a Ghanaian god of a man with incredible stamina, and charisma, and what a body. Oh my Lord...
¶ And today, the 29th of June 2009, some eight months later than most of my classmates (the whippersnappers), I was able to consistently accomplish the headstand.
(He takes a long slow bow.)
Thank you. Thank you very much.
¶ Last weekend I saw Ian McKellen, Patrick Stewart and Simon Callow in Waiting for Godot. Yes, it's a truly odd play, but the actors played it with such humor that it was a treat to watch. I read an article a month or two ago in which comedians spoke of the influence that Beckett has had on them (the illustration was a famous photo of Beckett with a clown's nose added). I'd never known that so many people see his plays as comical, but it worked really well with Godot. Maybe that's the way it's always done, I don't know, but clownish or vaudevillian treatment really made the play move along, at times in a touchingly endearing way. There's a lot of cruelty in it, too, but that works well pushing hard against the comedic elements. It was also reassuring to see actors of that caliber stepping on each other's lines occasionally (once, anyway) and dropping their accents from time to time.
And yes, Robin, to answer your question, they pronounced it GAH-doh. Who knew?
¶ I've seen a few plays lately: another odd one (this by Wallace Shawn) called Aunt Dan and Lemon. A one-woman show called Kafka's Monkey, starring Kathryn Hunter. I'm too ignorant to know how famous or well regarded she is but it was an amazing performance. The character is a chimpanzee who's learned to pass as a human, who thinks and feels like a human, more or less, but who still moves and acts like a chimp. Then there was an experimental theatre piece that a few classmates were in and one devised, with all the aspects (for better and for worse) that "experimental theatre" implies. Overall recently, quite a range.
¶ Last night I went to a two-hour African dance class. What a workout, and what fun! Led by a Ghanaian god of a man with incredible stamina, and charisma, and what a body. Oh my Lord...
¶ And today, the 29th of June 2009, some eight months later than most of my classmates (the whippersnappers), I was able to consistently accomplish the headstand.
(He takes a long slow bow.)
Thank you. Thank you very much.
Sunday, June 28, 2009
Into the homestretch
The lack of posts recently reflects, at least in part, the pace of things. With only three weeks ahead, everything is accelerating. Just a few notes here and then, I hope, more short posts in the next three weeks.
The schedule changes from here on out, to give us more time to work on our final group presentation (for me, that's the community folk dance thing) as well as individual presentations in acrobatics and what they call the 20 movements, which are choreographed moves that we each string together in a unique flow. Many are mime-type movements (like climbing a wall or punting a boat on a river), some are a succession of specific postures or "attitudes," some are acrobatic moves. Each is quite specific and some are complex, so we'll be getting a series of refresher sessions over the next week or two. The acrobatics presentations (one set routine, one of each student's devising) have me a bit distressed. I had to take it easy for a couple of weeks since I'd reinjured my neck (yet again!) and now there's not a lot of time left, especially for someone like me who really needs to do it on the padded mats that are in one of the classrooms, and the classrooms are almost always in use. I'm going to have to cut back on the hours I work at my job in the next few weeks to prepare.
A few brief notes:
¶ I may have mentioned earlier that we'd watched a film on CG Jung a while back. I've started doing some reading on him (finally getting around to Mary Ann Mattoon's book, for those back home who also knew her--and of course I wish I'd read it years ago). I'm seeing where some basic elements of the Lispa approach reflect Jung's thought. For example, that the unconscious is the source of creativity, and how the mask and countermask work that we did a bit ago parallel his ideas about persona and shadow.
¶ We also watched a film on the director Peter Brook a week or two ago. At one point he talks of contrasting kinds of improv. One is where they tell you you're so many years old, and you're dealing with these pressures at home and at work, and this is where you are, and these are the things around you, and this is what happens to provoke you. Now improvise. And the other is, Here's a shoe. Improvise. Occasionally we shade toward the first of those scenarios, but for the most part we deal with the second.
¶ So often my movements in improv are too small, too relaxed. A lot of that, I recognize, reflects my personality. But I also think it comes from my having watched so much more film than stage work. So much of film is amplified by the camera so the movements can be--have to be--small, and the intensity is in the magnification that the camera does of the small movement and gesture. Also, as an audience we often don't believe things on film that are done too big (regarding character, not action like blowing things up). So also with personal interactions, sometimes (at least in an understated culture like in Minnesota): smaller things seem more trustworthy, or at least there's a distrust of too much emotion or movement. You know the old joke: How can you tell if a Minnesotan is outgoing? He looks at your shoes when he talks to you.
¶ I'm only just starting to understand how live theatre is so much different from film. For example, if you see two people in a film who are hiding from (or looking for) each other backing up toward one another and then, butt to butt, pivot around each other, never knowing the other is there, it may be amusing but it's a bit like, C'mon, we've seen this before. Seeing it in live theatre is more enjoyable because you're part of it. Yes, you've seen it all before, but what's enjoyable is how well they do it, not that they do it. We watch differently because we invest differently in a play than we do in a film or a TV show.
More scattered thoughts later.
The schedule changes from here on out, to give us more time to work on our final group presentation (for me, that's the community folk dance thing) as well as individual presentations in acrobatics and what they call the 20 movements, which are choreographed moves that we each string together in a unique flow. Many are mime-type movements (like climbing a wall or punting a boat on a river), some are a succession of specific postures or "attitudes," some are acrobatic moves. Each is quite specific and some are complex, so we'll be getting a series of refresher sessions over the next week or two. The acrobatics presentations (one set routine, one of each student's devising) have me a bit distressed. I had to take it easy for a couple of weeks since I'd reinjured my neck (yet again!) and now there's not a lot of time left, especially for someone like me who really needs to do it on the padded mats that are in one of the classrooms, and the classrooms are almost always in use. I'm going to have to cut back on the hours I work at my job in the next few weeks to prepare.
A few brief notes:
¶ I may have mentioned earlier that we'd watched a film on CG Jung a while back. I've started doing some reading on him (finally getting around to Mary Ann Mattoon's book, for those back home who also knew her--and of course I wish I'd read it years ago). I'm seeing where some basic elements of the Lispa approach reflect Jung's thought. For example, that the unconscious is the source of creativity, and how the mask and countermask work that we did a bit ago parallel his ideas about persona and shadow.
¶ We also watched a film on the director Peter Brook a week or two ago. At one point he talks of contrasting kinds of improv. One is where they tell you you're so many years old, and you're dealing with these pressures at home and at work, and this is where you are, and these are the things around you, and this is what happens to provoke you. Now improvise. And the other is, Here's a shoe. Improvise. Occasionally we shade toward the first of those scenarios, but for the most part we deal with the second.
¶ So often my movements in improv are too small, too relaxed. A lot of that, I recognize, reflects my personality. But I also think it comes from my having watched so much more film than stage work. So much of film is amplified by the camera so the movements can be--have to be--small, and the intensity is in the magnification that the camera does of the small movement and gesture. Also, as an audience we often don't believe things on film that are done too big (regarding character, not action like blowing things up). So also with personal interactions, sometimes (at least in an understated culture like in Minnesota): smaller things seem more trustworthy, or at least there's a distrust of too much emotion or movement. You know the old joke: How can you tell if a Minnesotan is outgoing? He looks at your shoes when he talks to you.
¶ I'm only just starting to understand how live theatre is so much different from film. For example, if you see two people in a film who are hiding from (or looking for) each other backing up toward one another and then, butt to butt, pivot around each other, never knowing the other is there, it may be amusing but it's a bit like, C'mon, we've seen this before. Seeing it in live theatre is more enjoyable because you're part of it. Yes, you've seen it all before, but what's enjoyable is how well they do it, not that they do it. We watch differently because we invest differently in a play than we do in a film or a TV show.
More scattered thoughts later.
Thursday, June 11, 2009
Have we really gotten that bad?
... I wondered after presentations last Monday. The criticisms were pretty pointed again, and interruptions were standard. I think we're all feeling a bit out of rhythm, and we've lost some of the fun of it all, which is coming through in the performances. But we've had an unscheduled two-day break yesterday and today because of a Tube strike in London, so maybe we'll come back a bit fresher.
Meanwhile, I've been back to the osteopath twice this week. The less-than-graceful forward-roll I ended class with last Friday caused increasing pain over the weekend. I'm feeling much better now, though still a bit stiff and sore. I'll be sitting out of much if not all of the Acrobatics work tomorrow and maybe next Wednesday and Friday, until I'm pain-free again.
The neck didn't keep me from going Morris dancing on Tuesday night. The long bike ride didn't do my neck any favors (again, Tube strike) but the dancing was a lot of fun. A friend and I went this week. We're hoping to bring along several others next Tuesday.
Meanwhile, I've been back to the osteopath twice this week. The less-than-graceful forward-roll I ended class with last Friday caused increasing pain over the weekend. I'm feeling much better now, though still a bit stiff and sore. I'll be sitting out of much if not all of the Acrobatics work tomorrow and maybe next Wednesday and Friday, until I'm pain-free again.
The neck didn't keep me from going Morris dancing on Tuesday night. The long bike ride didn't do my neck any favors (again, Tube strike) but the dancing was a lot of fun. A friend and I went this week. We're hoping to bring along several others next Tuesday.
Saturday, June 6, 2009
Louie, Louie
It's been another week of character creation. This week Louie emerged. Louie wears aviator-style sunglasses and a shiny black shirt. I think he'd like to slick his hair with Brylcreem, but I haven't found any yet. He's from Harrisburg, PA, but runs a sex shop in Soho. Married three times, has two sons named Louie Jr. (He calls them Louie 2 and Louie 3.) Louie's a bit like our dog Finn in that he's just sure everybody likes him, but unlike Finn, Louie's confidence about that may not run very deep. He's been through a lot, is just who he is, and wants people to like him. But if you don't, who needs ya? (Life's too short, y'know?)
I'm enjoying this. I think next week we get into situations where we switch back and forth between our characters very quickly. Too bad that Louie and Bobby Lee won't ever meet face to face. I'm not sure how that would go.
Meanwhile we're back to handstands and such in Acro. A bit of a sore neck today, and I can feel the fatigue in the front of my shoulders from working on the handstands--a feat I haven't accomplished yet, but it's starting to come along. Slowly. I've learned (again but probably not for the last time) to pace myself better so as not to suffer too big a setback.
We also formed groups for the long-range project that will become our final presentation. I'm in a group that will be creating something that comes from participating in a community folk dance group. What a stretch, huh?
I'm enjoying this. I think next week we get into situations where we switch back and forth between our characters very quickly. Too bad that Louie and Bobby Lee won't ever meet face to face. I'm not sure how that would go.
Meanwhile we're back to handstands and such in Acro. A bit of a sore neck today, and I can feel the fatigue in the front of my shoulders from working on the handstands--a feat I haven't accomplished yet, but it's starting to come along. Slowly. I've learned (again but probably not for the last time) to pace myself better so as not to suffer too big a setback.
We also formed groups for the long-range project that will become our final presentation. I'm in a group that will be creating something that comes from participating in a community folk dance group. What a stretch, huh?
Saturday, May 30, 2009
No such thing as easing in
We're back in the thick of it (and I'm not talking flies now; I'm happy to report that we're down to mere dozens--oh, the carnage of May!* Do come see me in the ring of hell reserved for mass insect murderers, won't you?)
I don't think I really expected that we'd be ramping up slowly this term. But I also didn't expect that we'd start each of our first two Acrobatics classes with 100 sit-ups, 50 push-ups, and a round of two other diabolical variations on a squat-thrust/jump combo.
The fun part of the week has been in developing a character. We were to come dressed as one of our choosing on Monday, and then we worked with ways of building that character physically throughout the week. Also in putting them in different situations. Next week we each create another one. In Week 3 we'll apparently switch quickly back and forth between the two.
I would be delighted to introduce you to Robert E. Lee Beechum sometime. Professor Beechum (Bobby Lee to those of a more familiar acquaintance) is a Southern gentleman who simply does not understand why an appropriate decorum is not observed in all situations. He is a scholar of the American South, specializing in its fine literary tradition. He has a fondness for bow ties, and it is as obvious to him as the green on God's green grass that he has earned the respect to which he is due. Mm-hmm. Yes.
[Who will come forth next week I don't know for sure yet.]
___
* An unintended allusion to Truman Capote, I just realized. (Meaning I stole it.) Extra credit to whoever can name the book. This Professor Beechum has more of a hold on me than I knew!
I don't think I really expected that we'd be ramping up slowly this term. But I also didn't expect that we'd start each of our first two Acrobatics classes with 100 sit-ups, 50 push-ups, and a round of two other diabolical variations on a squat-thrust/jump combo.
The fun part of the week has been in developing a character. We were to come dressed as one of our choosing on Monday, and then we worked with ways of building that character physically throughout the week. Also in putting them in different situations. Next week we each create another one. In Week 3 we'll apparently switch quickly back and forth between the two.
I would be delighted to introduce you to Robert E. Lee Beechum sometime. Professor Beechum (Bobby Lee to those of a more familiar acquaintance) is a Southern gentleman who simply does not understand why an appropriate decorum is not observed in all situations. He is a scholar of the American South, specializing in its fine literary tradition. He has a fondness for bow ties, and it is as obvious to him as the green on God's green grass that he has earned the respect to which he is due. Mm-hmm. Yes.
[Who will come forth next week I don't know for sure yet.]
___
* An unintended allusion to Truman Capote, I just realized. (Meaning I stole it.) Extra credit to whoever can name the book. This Professor Beechum has more of a hold on me than I knew!
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