Well, I'm back in London again.
And tomorrow Year 3 at Lispa begins. I'll be doing the pedagogical year, observing the Initiation Course classes and reflecting on them with the teachers and my colleagues in the third year.
I've decided to try to develop some of this Lispa-type experience for non-actors, especially people in midlife and older. I think there's a lot here for anyone trying to creatively reimagine themselves. And what else, after all, is midlife all about? I also think that in midlife and, I imagine, in the years following--this period of life that we live both backwards (in reflection on past experience) and forward (with knowledge that time is more limited now)--a Lispa kind of approach can be very helpful in integrating in a new way the people we are and have been.
I know that sounds a bit vague yet. It probably always needs to so as not to be too narrowly defined. But I'm here to get a better understanding of it myself.
Thus, I'm back in London again.
Monday, October 11, 2010
Thursday, August 19, 2010
Moment of suspension
Ah, the moment of suspension. In Lispa training it's that moment when things could go in any direction, like when you're on tiptoe and can't hold your balance. Or it's the gathering moment when the ocean wave... is... almost... ready... to come crashing down. That's where I'm living now.
I just don't know what lies ahead. Two years ago I left ministry at age 53 and plunged into a two-year program in physical theatre, not as a performer but as someone needing to do creative work and feeling a pull into creative work of a different kind, not knowing where it would lead. Some people called it a foolish thing to do. (I wouldn't argue the point.) Some called it brave. (I'm not one to say.) Some called it a great leap of faith. I'm feeling that more than ever these days.
It's often been very hard for me to trust that things will work out well. (What is well, after all?) Especially for me to trust that things will work out for the good, that famous biblical statement from Paul notwithstanding. And now here I am, two years and a world of experiences on, on tiptoe, leaning, wavering, riding the cresting wave and not seeing what lies ahead. And somehow, for now at least, thank God, I'm OK with that.
That's not to say that I don't wish for clarity. I do. And I've had some plans in mind, but the route to at least one of the main ones has become blocked. But one of the teachings of Lispa is that the moment of suspension is the alive moment, the creative moment, and without it nothing truly new can happen.
It's not too much of a stretch to call it a statement of faith.
I just don't know what lies ahead. Two years ago I left ministry at age 53 and plunged into a two-year program in physical theatre, not as a performer but as someone needing to do creative work and feeling a pull into creative work of a different kind, not knowing where it would lead. Some people called it a foolish thing to do. (I wouldn't argue the point.) Some called it brave. (I'm not one to say.) Some called it a great leap of faith. I'm feeling that more than ever these days.
It's often been very hard for me to trust that things will work out well. (What is well, after all?) Especially for me to trust that things will work out for the good, that famous biblical statement from Paul notwithstanding. And now here I am, two years and a world of experiences on, on tiptoe, leaning, wavering, riding the cresting wave and not seeing what lies ahead. And somehow, for now at least, thank God, I'm OK with that.
That's not to say that I don't wish for clarity. I do. And I've had some plans in mind, but the route to at least one of the main ones has become blocked. But one of the teachings of Lispa is that the moment of suspension is the alive moment, the creative moment, and without it nothing truly new can happen.
It's not too much of a stretch to call it a statement of faith.
Sunday, August 8, 2010
Starting over
At this point the question is probably, "Why bother?" Why start blogging again after so much time of silence and so much water under the bridge? I guess I'm entering into a reflective stage again. What's ahead? No answers right now, but you're welcome to accompany me as I reflect on the past two years and where I go next.
I've graduated from Lispa. The school year ended a week ago, and this week has been one of saying au revoir to folks. Some I'll never see again, some I'll see sooner than I think. But who can tell which is which? It's also been a week of trying to do things in London I haven't had time for, so I saw two movies and three plays, visited several museums, went to Evensong at Westminster Abbey, and had many a coffee appointment. Also a long visit with Thomas, the head of the school. Some of that conversation will lead to things I'll write about later.
But tonight, as I've just about finished packing up all my stuff--most of it to take home, some of it to store here for later shipping or carrying back (it's become incredibly expensive to check more than 2 bags)--it just seemed the time to blow the dust off the blog.
Further construction ahead. Drive slowly.
I've graduated from Lispa. The school year ended a week ago, and this week has been one of saying au revoir to folks. Some I'll never see again, some I'll see sooner than I think. But who can tell which is which? It's also been a week of trying to do things in London I haven't had time for, so I saw two movies and three plays, visited several museums, went to Evensong at Westminster Abbey, and had many a coffee appointment. Also a long visit with Thomas, the head of the school. Some of that conversation will lead to things I'll write about later.
But tonight, as I've just about finished packing up all my stuff--most of it to take home, some of it to store here for later shipping or carrying back (it's become incredibly expensive to check more than 2 bags)--it just seemed the time to blow the dust off the blog.
Further construction ahead. Drive slowly.
Sunday, February 14, 2010
Tamil chorus, not Greek
As I did several times last winter, I've fled my cold house on a Sunday to blog from the warmth and calm of the British Library. I'm still living in the Clapton house. The person who was going to move into my room decided she was going to leave school, and by the time she changed her mind again I'd told my housemates that I'd stay, at least for the time being. Chances are probably better than 50-50 that I won't move at all. It can be hard to find a place for less than 6 months, and I'm going to try to shift my work schedule so I only have two weekday mornings after late nights when I need to get going so early.
Three weeks left in the term. We set the epic dramas aside for a bit and will return to them week after next when we have no classes. As usual, they haven't told us much in the way of scheduling, but the assumption is that we'll present a program of some of the better pieces from the term on the final Thursday night (March 4). I think the coal mining piece has a shot at being included, as does the piece I'm part of now.
After we learned and presented parts of speeches, we formed groups of about 18 to do choral work in support of one person giving their speech. Again, these were to be speeches that espouse ideas we don't identify with. (Apparently mine was so problematic in its ideas that people wouldn't even let me finish! In part I took that as a compliment. In part I'm still pissed off about it.) Our group has chosen a speech given by an Indian classmate, taken from one delivered by a leader of the Tamil Tigers, the recently defeated terrorist/independence group in Sri Lanka. It's in Tamil and she's done the translation for us, but part of the power of the experience is in its being in such a different language. The communicative elements become the sounds of the language and the commitment of the speaker and the chorus.
I assumed all along that we'd be doing some Greek chorus this term because I know that's been a key element in the Advanced Course the past two years--and the years before that, I'm sure. But this assignment is a new wrinkle, and with only one more week of classes, I'm wondering if we're not going to do Greek chorus at all. Frankly, I wasn't looking forward to the chorus work, because I've never been much moved by it when I've seen it, here or last summer in Greece--it just seemed like a lot of overly dramatic shouting in unison--but this has been pretty intriguing.
Then again, maybe it's always more intriguing for those in the chorus than for the audience! Which would be a failing trait.
One thing that's become more and more apparent this term: While it's important for the performer to draw on authentic emotions, what's most important is that the performance evoke authentic emotions/memories/associations in the audience or spectators. (It seems like "witnessing community" would be closer to an appropriate term than audience, but it sounds so highfalutin'.) We've probably all experienced seeing someone so turned-in on their own emotion (in a play, in a sermon) that it becomes off-putting. Or maybe we become distracted, worrying that maybe they're not OK. But performance isn't therapy--not for the performer anyway. Though it can have a cathartic effect for those who participate by watching/witnessing.
Three weeks left in the term. We set the epic dramas aside for a bit and will return to them week after next when we have no classes. As usual, they haven't told us much in the way of scheduling, but the assumption is that we'll present a program of some of the better pieces from the term on the final Thursday night (March 4). I think the coal mining piece has a shot at being included, as does the piece I'm part of now.
After we learned and presented parts of speeches, we formed groups of about 18 to do choral work in support of one person giving their speech. Again, these were to be speeches that espouse ideas we don't identify with. (Apparently mine was so problematic in its ideas that people wouldn't even let me finish! In part I took that as a compliment. In part I'm still pissed off about it.) Our group has chosen a speech given by an Indian classmate, taken from one delivered by a leader of the Tamil Tigers, the recently defeated terrorist/independence group in Sri Lanka. It's in Tamil and she's done the translation for us, but part of the power of the experience is in its being in such a different language. The communicative elements become the sounds of the language and the commitment of the speaker and the chorus.
I assumed all along that we'd be doing some Greek chorus this term because I know that's been a key element in the Advanced Course the past two years--and the years before that, I'm sure. But this assignment is a new wrinkle, and with only one more week of classes, I'm wondering if we're not going to do Greek chorus at all. Frankly, I wasn't looking forward to the chorus work, because I've never been much moved by it when I've seen it, here or last summer in Greece--it just seemed like a lot of overly dramatic shouting in unison--but this has been pretty intriguing.
Then again, maybe it's always more intriguing for those in the chorus than for the audience! Which would be a failing trait.
One thing that's become more and more apparent this term: While it's important for the performer to draw on authentic emotions, what's most important is that the performance evoke authentic emotions/memories/associations in the audience or spectators. (It seems like "witnessing community" would be closer to an appropriate term than audience, but it sounds so highfalutin'.) We've probably all experienced seeing someone so turned-in on their own emotion (in a play, in a sermon) that it becomes off-putting. Or maybe we become distracted, worrying that maybe they're not OK. But performance isn't therapy--not for the performer anyway. Though it can have a cathartic effect for those who participate by watching/witnessing.
Saturday, January 30, 2010
Snow and shape note
I don't know if this is normal for London or not, but another dusting of snow this morning. But it's clear and bright. I'll take this over rain any day. It seems like this week was the first time since I got back three weeks ago that the sun was out.
My epic drama group is devising a coal mining story based on the many stories of mining disasters in the coalfields of Kentucky, West Virginia, and Pennsylvania. My preference, of course, is one of the more southerly locations. Last night we learned a shape-note hymn that will work well in setting the tone aurally and in terms of bleakness. Idumea. You get a good sense of it from this link.
Next week we start working on speeches (not part of the epic dramas). We were encouraged to find an important speech that we might not agree with, or by someone who's not a hero of ours. I'm working on parts of Ronald Reagan's "rendezvous with destiny" speech from the 1964 Republican National Convention. I've never assumed that he wrote his own stuff, but there are some good turns of phrase in it.
Now I'll just have to resist the urge to wobble my head when I do it.
The first week back took an eternity. These past two have gone much more quickly. And in five weeks I'll be home again for a visit. Whew.
And six months from today is the end of school. The big question, of course: Then What?
Soon as from [London] I go,
What will become of me?
Eternal happiness or woe
Must then my portion be?
Nope. Doesn't quite fit, does it? Life's a little pale sometimes.
My epic drama group is devising a coal mining story based on the many stories of mining disasters in the coalfields of Kentucky, West Virginia, and Pennsylvania. My preference, of course, is one of the more southerly locations. Last night we learned a shape-note hymn that will work well in setting the tone aurally and in terms of bleakness. Idumea. You get a good sense of it from this link.
Next week we start working on speeches (not part of the epic dramas). We were encouraged to find an important speech that we might not agree with, or by someone who's not a hero of ours. I'm working on parts of Ronald Reagan's "rendezvous with destiny" speech from the 1964 Republican National Convention. I've never assumed that he wrote his own stuff, but there are some good turns of phrase in it.
Now I'll just have to resist the urge to wobble my head when I do it.
The first week back took an eternity. These past two have gone much more quickly. And in five weeks I'll be home again for a visit. Whew.
And six months from today is the end of school. The big question, of course: Then What?
Soon as from [London] I go,
What will become of me?
Eternal happiness or woe
Must then my portion be?
Nope. Doesn't quite fit, does it? Life's a little pale sometimes.
Wednesday, January 27, 2010
Still here
No, I haven't forgotten about the blog. I'm just under the gun to find a new place to live (again) and with work and school and that search, I'm not finding time to write.
We're working on epic dramas at school and "accessing deep emotions." It all comes down to the question, "Is it still possible to make people cry?" Learning lots. Being reminded of lots that I know from other contexts.
But right now I need to find a place to move to by Feb 8.
More later.
We're working on epic dramas at school and "accessing deep emotions." It all comes down to the question, "Is it still possible to make people cry?" Learning lots. Being reminded of lots that I know from other contexts.
But right now I need to find a place to move to by Feb 8.
More later.
Thursday, December 24, 2009
Panto
What could be more Christmas-in-London than going to a panto? As it looked increasingly certain that I'd be here for the holiday, I made a list of things I wanted to do. One was to get out of town on Boxing Day to go to a mummer's play or some other quintessentially British thing. That one I'll forgo for the trip home! But the thing I wanted to make sure I did was go to a pantomime. And so, last night, still assuming I'd be here, I went to what I thought would be the first of a few pantos. At least I got to one. And what an experience it was.
The show was "Aladdin" at the Hackney Empire theater. The posters show Clive Rowe, a huge black man and one of the grandest of the panto "dames," dressed as a woman with very pink cheeks, very red lipstick, and a wig that looks like a cross between Pippi Longstocking and Diana Ross. I'd never been to a panto before, but that gave me some idea of what the tone of things would be. But by the time a few minutes had passed, I could see it was going to be so much more raucous than I had expected.
The show started with a singing camel and the audience of kids and adults calling back to her. Then the villain came on to a great chorus of boos, which he only egged on. What fun it must be to grow up as a kid in London and go to these shows at Christmas! It was all very bright colors, broad humor, bad puns, great singing and dancing, cross-dressing, quick pacing (I'm learning so much about how comedy is all about rhythm), and great good fun. The show went on for three hours. Part old-style Broadway musical, part vaudeville, part fairy tale, part mellerdrammer, and quite a spectacle.
I wish we had this tradition in the US. For a taste of panto and the panto dame see this BBC piece. Unfortunately it doesn't capture at all how great an entertainer Clive Rowe is. See him sometime if you can.
The show was "Aladdin" at the Hackney Empire theater. The posters show Clive Rowe, a huge black man and one of the grandest of the panto "dames," dressed as a woman with very pink cheeks, very red lipstick, and a wig that looks like a cross between Pippi Longstocking and Diana Ross. I'd never been to a panto before, but that gave me some idea of what the tone of things would be. But by the time a few minutes had passed, I could see it was going to be so much more raucous than I had expected.
The show started with a singing camel and the audience of kids and adults calling back to her. Then the villain came on to a great chorus of boos, which he only egged on. What fun it must be to grow up as a kid in London and go to these shows at Christmas! It was all very bright colors, broad humor, bad puns, great singing and dancing, cross-dressing, quick pacing (I'm learning so much about how comedy is all about rhythm), and great good fun. The show went on for three hours. Part old-style Broadway musical, part vaudeville, part fairy tale, part mellerdrammer, and quite a spectacle.
I wish we had this tradition in the US. For a taste of panto and the panto dame see this BBC piece. Unfortunately it doesn't capture at all how great an entertainer Clive Rowe is. See him sometime if you can.
Minneapolis or bust
The mail came today. No passport. I sent Robin the sad news by email.
30 minutes later, the doorbell rings. Special delivery for Eric Nelson. My passport!
I won't be able to get back into the UK without a new ID card, but it's supposed to come in the post in the next 7 days. So I've arranged with a housemate to FedEx it to me at home. And I've booked a flight!
Robin tells me they're predicting 20 inches of snowfall in Minneapolis between now and tomorrow. Will this saga never end????
Couldn't get a direct flight, so I'm coming via Chicago. Here's hoping I make it all the way home.
30 minutes later, the doorbell rings. Special delivery for Eric Nelson. My passport!
I won't be able to get back into the UK without a new ID card, but it's supposed to come in the post in the next 7 days. So I've arranged with a housemate to FedEx it to me at home. And I've booked a flight!
Robin tells me they're predicting 20 inches of snowfall in Minneapolis between now and tomorrow. Will this saga never end????
Couldn't get a direct flight, so I'm coming via Chicago. Here's hoping I make it all the way home.
Monday, December 21, 2009
... if only in my dreams ...
As in "I'll be home for Christmas..."
Passport didn't come on Saturday so I had to cancel my ticket to fly home today. There's still an outside chance that I'll make it, if my documents come in the next couple of days and if I can get a flight, but it's looking less and less likely.
Passport didn't come on Saturday so I had to cancel my ticket to fly home today. There's still an outside chance that I'll make it, if my documents come in the next couple of days and if I can get a flight, but it's looking less and less likely.
Friday, December 18, 2009
Close encounters of the painful kind
In the past week or two I've had an increasing number of close calls while biking in London. For a while I've thought that an antipathy toward cyclists must be part of the cabbies' union code of conduct--they seem to love squeezing the curb so you can't get by--and you also find car and bus drivers who do the same thing. Twice within 10 minutes a week or so ago I almost got run off the road by van drivers, and once again earlier this week by an ambulance that wasn't in any apparent hurry to get anywhere. It can't be that I'm invisible. I wear one of those day-glo green cycling jackets or, in cold weather, an even brighter green vest with big reflective stripes on it, plus head and tail lights on the bike.
Then on Wednesday I got caught between another bike that wouldn't move over as I passed him and a tourbus that veered in my direction as it passed me. The bus and I bumped twice before I went ass over teakettle onto the asphalt. My bike fared better than I did, but we both got banged up. My elbow was the size of a baseball, but x-rays showed no broken bones. Now I'm just sore in the ribs and have a puffy, colorful forearm as the fluid from the elbow disperses. I was very lucky.
Still hoping for that luck to manifest itself in a passport in the post so I can come home for Christmas. Has to happen today or tomorrow.
Last night was our final presentations for the term. The Back to the Future platform piece went well. People tell me I was born to play Doc Brown. That part was a lot of fun. Lord of the Rings has come a long way and became quite complex, dark as well as comic. Dracula and Moses also were presented well--no, not in the same piece--as well as four commedia pieces, including "Mamasita Chocolate," a randy Latina piece featuring two hot-to-trot parents and their bratty little boy who keeps interrupting them, with a mixup of medicine bottles (dad's Viagra and the sleeping pills intended for the baby) as a complicating factor. Words cannot describe...
A friend commented that people from Latin cultures seem to have a special feel for commedia. Thinking back on it, of the pieces last night, the women in Mamasita (from Puerto Rico, Argentina, and Brazil) and a Portuguese lothario in another piece were among the stars of the genre in our class. Many English-speaking actors seemed to carry their characters in the head and shoulders and with a high voice, while those who found it better like the four above brought an earthier, more pelvic grounding. Surely it had something to do with who played more with themes of sexuality and libido and who played more with hatred and greed. Which may also be cultural markers.
Today we see the Initiation Course final projects and have our Christmas party, before adjourning to a pub, I'm sure.
Fingers crossed for good news in the post.
Then on Wednesday I got caught between another bike that wouldn't move over as I passed him and a tourbus that veered in my direction as it passed me. The bus and I bumped twice before I went ass over teakettle onto the asphalt. My bike fared better than I did, but we both got banged up. My elbow was the size of a baseball, but x-rays showed no broken bones. Now I'm just sore in the ribs and have a puffy, colorful forearm as the fluid from the elbow disperses. I was very lucky.
Still hoping for that luck to manifest itself in a passport in the post so I can come home for Christmas. Has to happen today or tomorrow.
Last night was our final presentations for the term. The Back to the Future platform piece went well. People tell me I was born to play Doc Brown. That part was a lot of fun. Lord of the Rings has come a long way and became quite complex, dark as well as comic. Dracula and Moses also were presented well--no, not in the same piece--as well as four commedia pieces, including "Mamasita Chocolate," a randy Latina piece featuring two hot-to-trot parents and their bratty little boy who keeps interrupting them, with a mixup of medicine bottles (dad's Viagra and the sleeping pills intended for the baby) as a complicating factor. Words cannot describe...
A friend commented that people from Latin cultures seem to have a special feel for commedia. Thinking back on it, of the pieces last night, the women in Mamasita (from Puerto Rico, Argentina, and Brazil) and a Portuguese lothario in another piece were among the stars of the genre in our class. Many English-speaking actors seemed to carry their characters in the head and shoulders and with a high voice, while those who found it better like the four above brought an earthier, more pelvic grounding. Surely it had something to do with who played more with themes of sexuality and libido and who played more with hatred and greed. Which may also be cultural markers.
Today we see the Initiation Course final projects and have our Christmas party, before adjourning to a pub, I'm sure.
Fingers crossed for good news in the post.
Sunday, December 13, 2009
Waiting
No answer yet to the question whether I'll be home for Christmas. My visa application is still in the works and though I've asked for it to be expedited, I've received no answer from the UK Border Agency. I've tried all the angles here that Robin and I can think of, and she's tried working channels through Sen. Klobuchar's office back home, but to no avail. I have talked CheapTickets.com into giving me a partial refund on my ticket if needed, but that's small consolation. So now I have six days to receive two key pieces of mail from the UKBA (my passport and a newly issued ID Card for Foreign Nationals) or I have to cancel my ticket and stay here for the holidays.
On to more definite things... Tomorrow the last week of Term 1 begins. Thursday night we'll present the best-of pieces: some commedia, some platform. The platform piece I'm in is still in the running. The commedia piece I was in didn't make the first cut. Tomorrow we present the remaining pieces (4 platform, about 8 commedia) to the teachers one last time and then I assume we have yet another class meeting to decide what will be on the program. There are a few excellent pieces and several very good ones, judging from what we saw last Monday. But pieces can change quite a bit in a short period of time--and sometimes for the worse--so I look forward to seeing them one more time tomorrow.
I'll be more reflective at another time when I have more leisure--especially if I'm here for the holidays--but for now just one fun link that an American classmate sent around as we worked on our commedia pieces. Read it and weep, or laugh, or scratch your head. His comment: "If you love commedia and want to make a living sharing it with paying audiences, the public may not be ready for you..."
On to more definite things... Tomorrow the last week of Term 1 begins. Thursday night we'll present the best-of pieces: some commedia, some platform. The platform piece I'm in is still in the running. The commedia piece I was in didn't make the first cut. Tomorrow we present the remaining pieces (4 platform, about 8 commedia) to the teachers one last time and then I assume we have yet another class meeting to decide what will be on the program. There are a few excellent pieces and several very good ones, judging from what we saw last Monday. But pieces can change quite a bit in a short period of time--and sometimes for the worse--so I look forward to seeing them one more time tomorrow.
I'll be more reflective at another time when I have more leisure--especially if I'm here for the holidays--but for now just one fun link that an American classmate sent around as we worked on our commedia pieces. Read it and weep, or laugh, or scratch your head. His comment: "If you love commedia and want to make a living sharing it with paying audiences, the public may not be ready for you..."
Wednesday, November 25, 2009
Isabel brings the sunshine
Isabel arrived this morning on her way to Portugal for about 5 days. And while the weather has been gray and or rainy for days and days (of the 8 times a year that TfL sys a cyclist will get caught in the rain, I've had 7 this month), today it's clear and sunny.
We're working in commedia del'arte style now. Generally I really like the earthiness of it--the characters are motivated by the most basic of desires--but I'm getting a bit tired of the self-centeredness that's coming to the fore at times in school. Maybe it's that people are taking commedia to heart. More likely perhaps is that it comes from an awareness that we only have so much time left here and people feel some urgency to get what they can out of the program. Admittedly some of my aggravation probably comes from my wishing it were easier for me to claim that for myself. They're not all the same thing, but there is some overlap between assertiveness, self-centeredness, and pettiness.
We're working in commedia del'arte style now. Generally I really like the earthiness of it--the characters are motivated by the most basic of desires--but I'm getting a bit tired of the self-centeredness that's coming to the fore at times in school. Maybe it's that people are taking commedia to heart. More likely perhaps is that it comes from an awareness that we only have so much time left here and people feel some urgency to get what they can out of the program. Admittedly some of my aggravation probably comes from my wishing it were easier for me to claim that for myself. They're not all the same thing, but there is some overlap between assertiveness, self-centeredness, and pettiness.
Friday, November 20, 2009
Another week gone already?
Closing in on the end of Week 3. Only four more in this term. This year is gonna fly.
Back to the Future is coming along, as are the other platform pieces. The teachers gave us one more week to work on them before setting them aside for a while. Meanwhile we've been playing with masks in class this week. We got some feedback on the ones we made, which we'll start to use next week, and have used some of the school's masks twice so far. One day it was leather commedia masks, another, wooden Korean masks.
It's remarkable how you have to tell a story differently when you wear a mask. Movement and language have to be used much more economically; messiness and rambling are laid bare. In a way, we're being asked to do two almost opposite things at the same time: keeping an openness to improvisation and creating on-the-spot while also moving and speaking only when and as it serves what we're making up in the moment. There's also a necessary moment-to-moment awareness of how to hold your head so the mask plays its best. And since these are half-masks, ending just below the nose, how you hold your mouth becomes part of the mask itself, so that too becomes essential and magnified. So much to be aware of without being so focused on it that it blocks your spontaneity. It's a tremendous discipline to develop, and just watching others struggle with it has been an education in itself.
One story we were to prepare for last week was that of the crucifixion of Christ. (A rather ballsy choice to assign in an intercultural school, I thought. Then again, it's probably as well known a story as any.) The storyteller was to tell it from the perspective of 3 to 5 characters (which could be completely made up), switching back and forth between them, speaking directly to the audience or the other characters they were also creating. This we did without masks. Then yesterday those who hadn't had a chance to go the week before were given the same task, but with the addition of using the Korean masks. Instead of quick-changing between characters as those of us who went the week before did, these storytellers were to pause between characters, turn around, take off one mask, put on another, change character, and then turn around again to continue the story in that character's body and voice. They weren't to hurry, but had to make sure the energy/tension/atmosphere/magic of the moment didn't drop. Whew!
When you can't use your facial expression, everything else becomes magnified. And the abstraction of the mask moves the whole thing into a fantastical (transposed) world, where the artifice of the whole thing is apparent but also has to enhance the experience. It's almost like alchemy. I'm learning a lot. Again.
I'm also having to set up appointments with the osteopath. Again. This 54-year-old back of mine has bedeviled me of late. Acrobatics, as you might guess, is going very slowly. Some days I just do the conditioning exercises and spend the rest of the hour and 45 minutes stretching while everyone else works on handstands, straddle ups, and all sorts of other moves I don't even know the names for. My accomplishment of a 2-second handstand this past summer will probably turn out to have been the high point of my acrobatics career. But I can live with that.
Isabel passes through town twice in the next two weeks. It'll be a joy to see her. And I hear that it's about time for Thanksgiving again, since one American friend is hosting a turkey dinner this Sunday and my house is having our own gathering the following weekend. Christmas decorations are up in London stores (though much less so than back home). But the weather here doesn't give much clue as to the season. Weak sunlight, trees slowly going bare without much color, rain as often as always, I suppose. Not every day, but the air's always damp.
Here's hoping Isabel gets through immigration without a hitch this time.
Back to the Future is coming along, as are the other platform pieces. The teachers gave us one more week to work on them before setting them aside for a while. Meanwhile we've been playing with masks in class this week. We got some feedback on the ones we made, which we'll start to use next week, and have used some of the school's masks twice so far. One day it was leather commedia masks, another, wooden Korean masks.
It's remarkable how you have to tell a story differently when you wear a mask. Movement and language have to be used much more economically; messiness and rambling are laid bare. In a way, we're being asked to do two almost opposite things at the same time: keeping an openness to improvisation and creating on-the-spot while also moving and speaking only when and as it serves what we're making up in the moment. There's also a necessary moment-to-moment awareness of how to hold your head so the mask plays its best. And since these are half-masks, ending just below the nose, how you hold your mouth becomes part of the mask itself, so that too becomes essential and magnified. So much to be aware of without being so focused on it that it blocks your spontaneity. It's a tremendous discipline to develop, and just watching others struggle with it has been an education in itself.
One story we were to prepare for last week was that of the crucifixion of Christ. (A rather ballsy choice to assign in an intercultural school, I thought. Then again, it's probably as well known a story as any.) The storyteller was to tell it from the perspective of 3 to 5 characters (which could be completely made up), switching back and forth between them, speaking directly to the audience or the other characters they were also creating. This we did without masks. Then yesterday those who hadn't had a chance to go the week before were given the same task, but with the addition of using the Korean masks. Instead of quick-changing between characters as those of us who went the week before did, these storytellers were to pause between characters, turn around, take off one mask, put on another, change character, and then turn around again to continue the story in that character's body and voice. They weren't to hurry, but had to make sure the energy/tension/atmosphere/magic of the moment didn't drop. Whew!
When you can't use your facial expression, everything else becomes magnified. And the abstraction of the mask moves the whole thing into a fantastical (transposed) world, where the artifice of the whole thing is apparent but also has to enhance the experience. It's almost like alchemy. I'm learning a lot. Again.
I'm also having to set up appointments with the osteopath. Again. This 54-year-old back of mine has bedeviled me of late. Acrobatics, as you might guess, is going very slowly. Some days I just do the conditioning exercises and spend the rest of the hour and 45 minutes stretching while everyone else works on handstands, straddle ups, and all sorts of other moves I don't even know the names for. My accomplishment of a 2-second handstand this past summer will probably turn out to have been the high point of my acrobatics career. But I can live with that.
Isabel passes through town twice in the next two weeks. It'll be a joy to see her. And I hear that it's about time for Thanksgiving again, since one American friend is hosting a turkey dinner this Sunday and my house is having our own gathering the following weekend. Christmas decorations are up in London stores (though much less so than back home). But the weather here doesn't give much clue as to the season. Weak sunlight, trees slowly going bare without much color, rain as often as always, I suppose. Not every day, but the air's always damp.
Here's hoping Isabel gets through immigration without a hitch this time.
Monday, November 16, 2009
Back to the future
Two weeks in now. A lot of our work has been in trying to get a good start on the platform piece. The group I'm in is working with Back to the Future 1. Others are doing Nosferatu, The Princess Bride, Moses (part of the Book of Exodus), Star Wars (the original one); so you can see the variety. I hear that one group is doing the entire Lord of the Rings trilogy--with five people on a door-sized platform in about 10 minutes. This I gotta see. And this afternoon I get to. The pieces aren't expected to be in finished form yet. We'll come back to them as we learn other styles and skills.
You could say that what we're doing is learning different languages, different styles of storytelling that require different kinds of structure and movement. Each is probably best suited to particular kinds of stories. If we keep on schedule we begin with commedia dell'arte tomorrow. I've just made my first papier-mache mask. The masks don't have to be traditional commedia characters (which I know little about). Mine has a big nose, the suggestion of a curly mustache, and an arched eyebrow. He looks kind of like a Cyrano de Bergerac or a musketeer. We'll see how it plays.
Today we also get to see the Initiation Course (first year students) present for the first time. I'm really looking forward to this. Last year I enjoyed those times when the whole school gathered--there's no more appreciative an audience than people who know what it's like to struggle with what you're trying to do--and the second-years said how much they learned by watching us do the same thing they had a whirlwind trip through the year before. A bit like traveling back in time.
(Cue movie soundtrack: Huey Lewis and the News...)
You could say that what we're doing is learning different languages, different styles of storytelling that require different kinds of structure and movement. Each is probably best suited to particular kinds of stories. If we keep on schedule we begin with commedia dell'arte tomorrow. I've just made my first papier-mache mask. The masks don't have to be traditional commedia characters (which I know little about). Mine has a big nose, the suggestion of a curly mustache, and an arched eyebrow. He looks kind of like a Cyrano de Bergerac or a musketeer. We'll see how it plays.
Today we also get to see the Initiation Course (first year students) present for the first time. I'm really looking forward to this. Last year I enjoyed those times when the whole school gathered--there's no more appreciative an audience than people who know what it's like to struggle with what you're trying to do--and the second-years said how much they learned by watching us do the same thing they had a whirlwind trip through the year before. A bit like traveling back in time.
(Cue movie soundtrack: Huey Lewis and the News...)
Saturday, November 14, 2009
They lied
Yet another wet one.
Guess I'll have to start wearing summat like wellies on me feet, now won't I?
Guess I'll have to start wearing summat like wellies on me feet, now won't I?
Thursday, November 12, 2009
Soaked to the bone again
And in one place the standing water was so deep my feet were pedaling underwater.
Two down, six to go--for the whole year? Or did they lie?
Two down, six to go--for the whole year? Or did they lie?
Wednesday, November 11, 2009
Soaked
They say ("they" being Transport for London) that if you bike year-round here, you'll only get caught in the rain eight times. I hope they're right, hard as it is to believe.
One down. Seven to go.
One down. Seven to go.
Off we go?
They say the postal strike is over, or at least on hiatus until after Christmas. But my visa application is still in transit to the processing center, 12 days after I mailed it. It took a month for my Oyster card (tube & bus pass) application to get across town, but only two days to get it back after they processed it, so who knows what my chances are of getting my passport back in time to travel home for Christmas. (The Home Office is not known for processing things quickly. It was their slowness that started this whole dragged out thing in the first place.) So the saga continues, silently and at a distance.
Meanwhile, classes have started. It's all structured very differently this year, with mostly shorter classes and often longer waits in between. Tuesdays are the worst for the group I happen to be in so far. First class: 12:30-1:30, second class doesn't begin till 4:15. Some of this is due to occasionally splitting us into 3 groups of about a dozen. Some of it in having one fewer classroom/rehearsal space. My class is also a lot smaller. We started with about 45 a year ago. Now, with the addition of 2 people we didn't have last year, we have 35. The smaller classes are good, but we're also getting only an hour to an our and a half each day with the main teachers, whereas we got 2-1/2 hours last year. And there are no voice classes this year since neither of the voice teachers came back. In its place we have a group-singing session.
One thing I knew would be different: Our improv/creation work is more specific this year, focusing on particular styles of theatre. We're doing platform dramas now--stories compressed into small spaces and time frames, with no costumes, no props, just 5-7 people on basically a table top and a lot of imagination. It's fun, and quite a challenge. Next we move onto commedia. We're making our masks now. Later some Greek chorus work and epic stories (melodrama). Then clown. Along the way there's some bouffon and grotesque. I'm not sure what all of this is yet.
We continue to have acrobatics, Alexander and Feldenkreis movement classes, and space lab, plus a course in "company development," which gets to a lot of the practicalities of starting and working in a small theatrical company. And a new course called Applied Techniques, in which we specifically build on skills we learned last year in a supplemental way to what we do in the other improv classes. We're also learning a traditional mime routine in one of the improv classes.
So in some ways it's tremendously busy, while in others we seem to have more time in our hands in between things. Our classes are also afternoons and evenings (which means that this time of year we don't even start till it's almost dark), plus Saturday creation times. Later in the year, classes end altogether and it's all individually designed projects for the final 10 weeks or so.
And so in we plunge.
Meanwhile, classes have started. It's all structured very differently this year, with mostly shorter classes and often longer waits in between. Tuesdays are the worst for the group I happen to be in so far. First class: 12:30-1:30, second class doesn't begin till 4:15. Some of this is due to occasionally splitting us into 3 groups of about a dozen. Some of it in having one fewer classroom/rehearsal space. My class is also a lot smaller. We started with about 45 a year ago. Now, with the addition of 2 people we didn't have last year, we have 35. The smaller classes are good, but we're also getting only an hour to an our and a half each day with the main teachers, whereas we got 2-1/2 hours last year. And there are no voice classes this year since neither of the voice teachers came back. In its place we have a group-singing session.
One thing I knew would be different: Our improv/creation work is more specific this year, focusing on particular styles of theatre. We're doing platform dramas now--stories compressed into small spaces and time frames, with no costumes, no props, just 5-7 people on basically a table top and a lot of imagination. It's fun, and quite a challenge. Next we move onto commedia. We're making our masks now. Later some Greek chorus work and epic stories (melodrama). Then clown. Along the way there's some bouffon and grotesque. I'm not sure what all of this is yet.
We continue to have acrobatics, Alexander and Feldenkreis movement classes, and space lab, plus a course in "company development," which gets to a lot of the practicalities of starting and working in a small theatrical company. And a new course called Applied Techniques, in which we specifically build on skills we learned last year in a supplemental way to what we do in the other improv classes. We're also learning a traditional mime routine in one of the improv classes.
So in some ways it's tremendously busy, while in others we seem to have more time in our hands in between things. Our classes are also afternoons and evenings (which means that this time of year we don't even start till it's almost dark), plus Saturday creation times. Later in the year, classes end altogether and it's all individually designed projects for the final 10 weeks or so.
And so in we plunge.
Friday, October 30, 2009
Bottom of the ninth, man on third...
The score is tied...
Squeeze play...
And he gets the bunt down! Run scores!
Eric can stay in the UK legally past tomorrow. His application for a visa renewal is in the mail, just a day before his visa expires.
The crowd goes wild, as the runner collapses after crossing home plate.
Squeeze play...
And he gets the bunt down! Run scores!
Eric can stay in the UK legally past tomorrow. His application for a visa renewal is in the mail, just a day before his visa expires.
The crowd goes wild, as the runner collapses after crossing home plate.
Thursday, October 29, 2009
This is going down to the wire
So I received the statements from my bank in Minneapolis via FedEx yesterday. And they were just photocopies. Which are explicitly disqualified from consideration by the UK Border Agency. So now I wait for yet another FedEx from the States which is supposed to get here by 12:30 tomorrow.
One thing about the postal strike here: The Royal Mail website tells you which parts of town will be affected on any given day. How very British. So there's no point in trying to mail off my application tomorrow afternoon from a collection point anywhere in my part of town, but Central London post offices are supposed to be functioning, though with longer lines, I'm sure.
I did get my bank here to provide me a letter stating my balance, so hopefully that will suffice to take the place of the statement that's stuck in transit by the strike.
Oh, and that possibility of hand delivering my application? The office isn't in London, as I'd assumed all along. It's in Durham, which is just a caber's toss from the Scottish border. So that's a no-go, too.
Hoping for smooth operations tomorrow. Else I have to leave the country on Saturday.
One thing about the postal strike here: The Royal Mail website tells you which parts of town will be affected on any given day. How very British. So there's no point in trying to mail off my application tomorrow afternoon from a collection point anywhere in my part of town, but Central London post offices are supposed to be functioning, though with longer lines, I'm sure.
I did get my bank here to provide me a letter stating my balance, so hopefully that will suffice to take the place of the statement that's stuck in transit by the strike.
Oh, and that possibility of hand delivering my application? The office isn't in London, as I'd assumed all along. It's in Durham, which is just a caber's toss from the Scottish border. So that's a no-go, too.
Hoping for smooth operations tomorrow. Else I have to leave the country on Saturday.
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