I need to confess to all of you here in InternetsLand, right here, right now, one of my deepest darkest secrets. I am a compulsive list-maker. They exist in all manner of written forms, littered across the physical and psychic landscapes of my life. Dinner napkins, post-its, various journals, backs of receipts, plane tickets... the "list" goes on. I derive great pleasure from crossing items of said lists; so much pleasure, that sometimes, just to get the ball rolling, I usually start a new list with a thing or two I've *already* done, just to get my kicks giving that item the ol' crossero. So here, culled from several distinct lists, is my dream to-do list for the next 12 months... because I believe in deadlines as well as lists.
1. Move to Chicago. Just to try it out.
2. Move back to NYC. If Chicago sucks.
3. Assemble cabaret show for self and surpass crushing anxiety re:singing in public.
4. Let the Donald make me an 'honest gal.' Assuming this list doesn't freak him out.
5. Call my grandmother more often.
6. Purchase a pair of sassy black pants that both a) look hot and b) don't cut of circulation to feet.
7. Finalllllllly do the production of Othello that I've been pondering for well-on three years now.
8. Go on big real auditions. Seriously, Seremet. You can do this.
9. Read War and Peace. it's a book, not a paperweight.
10. Take a refresher Spanish course. And/or visit Spain and talk to everyone.
11. Make plan to cope with immense weight of student loan debt. Cry first.
12. Update classical monologue repetoire. Give Bertram's Helena a freaking break.
13. Write incredible, amazing, genre-altering dissertation. And/or pass.
14. Spend more time in sunlight.
15. Visit someplace from which my family origins can be traced to (NB: besides Pennsylvania).
16. Go back to my undergrad college for a visit.
17. Audition for a musical again. Do self proud and don't vomit during/after.
18. Shell out the bucks to see Warhorse in London.
So that's that. Eighteen easy-peasy tiny little tasks to accomplish prior to January 29th, 2012. Riiiight. But, there is something very satisfying to see all that stuff on paper - somehow, getting it onto a page makes it feel more important than if it's in my head. So that's that.
Sometimes, making lists of things I need to do sometimes overtakes the list I could make of the things I have managed to do so far in this life. So, here, I leave you with some of my stranger "accomplishments."
A. There is a book floating around in this world that is dedicated to me. In original drafts, the main female character was named Molly. Although the author and I have lost touch, it make me feel special to look at the acknowledgements.
B. I once entered a beauty pageant. I did not win. Surprisingly, I cried buckets afterwards.
C. I am a recipient of an "Ugliest" title in my hometown, for a particularly stellar Halloween costume one year. I was so crowned in my local newspaper.
D. Marlo Thomas, Brian Murray and Kim Staunton have all worn costumes that I've had a significant hand in creating.
E. I was a cheerleader for over eight years. And I was good at it.
E. I produced and performed in a one woman show in New York City that got decent reviews and was well-attended. Opening night is still the proudest moment of my life.
See? So, even if my current 18 hopes/dreams don't pan-out, I'll always be the Ugliest loser seamstress, going broke to working in NYC fringe, with small-run books in her cheery honor. Nothing like keeping life in perspective. ;)
Love,
TGI
Sunday, January 30, 2011
Friday, January 28, 2011
"That Girl" Understand Virtuosity. She Thinks.
Last night, I got to be part of something that, cheesy or no, has been a dream of mine for nearly 3/4 of my life. I got to see the Royal Shakespeare Company in action in London. And, I gotta tell ya, it was brilliant, and, where language is concerned, an exercise in virtuosity.
I know it'll sound strange to anyone who has seen some of the recent work that I've made, which has tended towards the abstract and truly bizarre, but my real true artistic love is classical theatre. I'm always intrigued by the way Shakespeare's poetry, for example, is choreographed, bringing out colors and nuances that regular ol' prose can't quite get at. Having been introduced to Shakespeare at an early age through my father, I grew up on iambic pentameter and blank verse, and learned early on that "it's just words." But, oh, what exquisite words.
Oftentimes, I'm disappointed when I see classical theatre performed (example: Hamlet at the National Theatre) because the text gets treated with such elevated reverence that it just sounds like pretty syllables, not actual communicative language. In the US, I think it has a lot to do with the way that Shakespeare is taught in our schools, as this utterly unintelligible other language, meant to be endured not enjoyed. It's always such a pleasure to be present for a performance in which the language is used to its fullest potential, without becoming precious. And last night's production was an excellent example of this pleasant experience.
From right off the bat, the pacing of the dialogue was, spot on. In Orlando's opening monologue and his subsequent scene with belligerent brother Oliver, the dynamic blocking (working the large diagonals of the thrust stage, an energetic physical confrontaion) worked nicely with the fragmentation of the poetry in these opening scenes. One thing I love about Shakespeare is the way the structure of the language gives clues about the relationships between characters/concepts in the plays. In the scene between these two distant brothers, there's a disconnect in the language. Orlando and Oliver's words do not flow together, the way the speakings of characters who are in tune with each other (like Celia and Rosalind a few scenes later) do. The RSC capitalizes on these 'clues' to their best effect, highlighting the choreography of Shakespeare's text with sympathetic blocking, bringing the text alive.
One of my favorite aspects of this production has to be Rosalind, played by the lovely Katy Stephens, and her 'transformation' into the masculine Ganymede. Oftentimes, I find that these moments of cross-dressing in Shakespeare are difficult, because they become moments of characterlessness. For me, it's not about believing that Rosalind IS a dude. It's about seeing the way that Rosalind frees herself from the requirements of being a courtly woman by taking on the behaviors of a rustic boy. That transformation has very little to do with physical appearance or really even gender difference, but rather a freedom in movement and in language. And Stephens accomplishes this in spades for the RSC.
In an early interaction with the Duke her uncle, she eloquently (as Rosalind) defends her honor and that of her banished father, in lovely iambic pentameter, complete with definitive statements, resolving in soft feminine endings. Stephens uses this common structure to best effect, by physically standing her ground, and using the softness of the structure to entreat the Duke, played by Sandy Neilson. His responses are curt, short and definitive, and generally complete the poetics of his niece's first and last lines, making him feel like an interruptor, excising the quiet logic of her words. Neilson and Stephens play this moment perfectly, and I think it's a lovely example of Rosalind's feminine speech.
For me then, her transformation into Ganymede largely a linguistic one, although Stephens does look cute with her painted-on five o'clock shadow and slight swagger. Her transformation however is most believable in the way that she speaks as Ganymede, adopting a faster pace and more brusque use of the poetry, especially in her "lovers" scenes with Orlando. From their first meeting in the woods, Orlando and Ganymede have a casual bantering style with one another, resolving each other's thoughts easily, much in the way two good friends are wont to do. At the RSC, Stephens and Jonjo O'Neill as Orlando work this banter to full effect, letting the playful patter infect their physicality. In this way, we do believe that they're bros, without having to endure a Rosalind who is trying desperately to show us that she's a man.
Altogether, the show was a total pleasure. With simple yet effective scenography and costumes, the virtuosic use of language drives this production, and is used to best effect by cast and director alike. I am so thrilled to have gotten to be part of the audience at the Roundhouse for this enjoyable romp through the forest of Arden!
I know it'll sound strange to anyone who has seen some of the recent work that I've made, which has tended towards the abstract and truly bizarre, but my real true artistic love is classical theatre. I'm always intrigued by the way Shakespeare's poetry, for example, is choreographed, bringing out colors and nuances that regular ol' prose can't quite get at. Having been introduced to Shakespeare at an early age through my father, I grew up on iambic pentameter and blank verse, and learned early on that "it's just words." But, oh, what exquisite words.
Oftentimes, I'm disappointed when I see classical theatre performed (example: Hamlet at the National Theatre) because the text gets treated with such elevated reverence that it just sounds like pretty syllables, not actual communicative language. In the US, I think it has a lot to do with the way that Shakespeare is taught in our schools, as this utterly unintelligible other language, meant to be endured not enjoyed. It's always such a pleasure to be present for a performance in which the language is used to its fullest potential, without becoming precious. And last night's production was an excellent example of this pleasant experience.
From right off the bat, the pacing of the dialogue was, spot on. In Orlando's opening monologue and his subsequent scene with belligerent brother Oliver, the dynamic blocking (working the large diagonals of the thrust stage, an energetic physical confrontaion) worked nicely with the fragmentation of the poetry in these opening scenes. One thing I love about Shakespeare is the way the structure of the language gives clues about the relationships between characters/concepts in the plays. In the scene between these two distant brothers, there's a disconnect in the language. Orlando and Oliver's words do not flow together, the way the speakings of characters who are in tune with each other (like Celia and Rosalind a few scenes later) do. The RSC capitalizes on these 'clues' to their best effect, highlighting the choreography of Shakespeare's text with sympathetic blocking, bringing the text alive.
One of my favorite aspects of this production has to be Rosalind, played by the lovely Katy Stephens, and her 'transformation' into the masculine Ganymede. Oftentimes, I find that these moments of cross-dressing in Shakespeare are difficult, because they become moments of characterlessness. For me, it's not about believing that Rosalind IS a dude. It's about seeing the way that Rosalind frees herself from the requirements of being a courtly woman by taking on the behaviors of a rustic boy. That transformation has very little to do with physical appearance or really even gender difference, but rather a freedom in movement and in language. And Stephens accomplishes this in spades for the RSC.
In an early interaction with the Duke her uncle, she eloquently (as Rosalind) defends her honor and that of her banished father, in lovely iambic pentameter, complete with definitive statements, resolving in soft feminine endings. Stephens uses this common structure to best effect, by physically standing her ground, and using the softness of the structure to entreat the Duke, played by Sandy Neilson. His responses are curt, short and definitive, and generally complete the poetics of his niece's first and last lines, making him feel like an interruptor, excising the quiet logic of her words. Neilson and Stephens play this moment perfectly, and I think it's a lovely example of Rosalind's feminine speech.
For me then, her transformation into Ganymede largely a linguistic one, although Stephens does look cute with her painted-on five o'clock shadow and slight swagger. Her transformation however is most believable in the way that she speaks as Ganymede, adopting a faster pace and more brusque use of the poetry, especially in her "lovers" scenes with Orlando. From their first meeting in the woods, Orlando and Ganymede have a casual bantering style with one another, resolving each other's thoughts easily, much in the way two good friends are wont to do. At the RSC, Stephens and Jonjo O'Neill as Orlando work this banter to full effect, letting the playful patter infect their physicality. In this way, we do believe that they're bros, without having to endure a Rosalind who is trying desperately to show us that she's a man.
Altogether, the show was a total pleasure. With simple yet effective scenography and costumes, the virtuosic use of language drives this production, and is used to best effect by cast and director alike. I am so thrilled to have gotten to be part of the audience at the Roundhouse for this enjoyable romp through the forest of Arden!
Saturday, January 22, 2011
"That Girl" is Disheartened... and then Reheartened.
I've been thinking a lot lately about the theatre business and where I fit it into it all. For the past almost four months, I've been fully engaged in a graduate program with a live-art focus, in which I am the only actor, in a traditional sense. I've been expanding my work, creating my own writing/text for the stage and really pushing the limits of what I thought I could do in a theatrical context. I've gotten to work closely with some truly amazing artists, Lin Hixson, the founder and director of Goat Island in Chicago. I can honestly say that she's been an idol of mine for some time, and could not be more thrilled to have not only met her, but worked under her guidance in class. I've also been travelling, as you intrepid readers are well aware by now, seeing so much art in so many different places. And yet, I've been wondering if something has been missing. And I just figured out what it is. It has been four months since my last audition. Forgive me, Judgmental Theatre Gods, for I have sinned...
This is the longest time span I've gone since probably high school without the thrill of the cold-read, the thrill of the callback, and the disappointment of the phone that just won't ring. I haven't done a play in a long time, and have neglected to practice my monologues on London's sunny shores. At first, I was disappointed in myself. What am I doing? All my life, I've wanted to be an actor, and now, here I am, in London. SLACKING. The horror! And then, I realized, to use theatrical terms, what my motivation is. I don't just want to be an actor anymore. Allow me to clarify.
Ever since I started working with my own theatre company in New York City, I've been thrilled by the art-making process, not just onstage, but in all the thought and work and struggle that leads into that first rehearsal, and is rewarded (hopefully!) in opening night. It's certainly not easy, especially when one is a stubborn, headstrong single-minded gal like myself, reluctant to ask for help, and resentful of personal failure. But, I have never felt more artistically alive as I did when my production of My Name is Rachel Corrie opened and ran successfully for three weeks in New York City. Although I was in the production, my elation came not just from the thrill of being onstage; it existed also because I had had a hand in making the production happen. Somehow, it felt like "my" show. For the first time, I wasn't just an actor, working on someone else's production, towards his/her concept. It was "my" show and "my" concept that were heard. And i think, for me, that's where my dream has shifted now.
Meeting Lin Hixson has certainly helped me articulate this feeling for myself. She works in the way I hope someday to be able to sustain for myself. She and her collaborators develop artpieces from the ground up, and are able to support the work for a couple of years at a time on a single piece. While I'm too impatient to work under that (lack of) time constraint, I'm so envious of that style of artmaking. And that's what I now know I'm working towards. For me, artistic satisfaction isn't just in the audition room, and in between the proscenium arch anymore. Now, I want to be part of the conception and development process.
For now, I think, for me at least, that means some solo work. Having never for example done much creative-type writing, I want to see what I'm capable of, especially while I have the luxury of being within an academic framework. After this program finishes, I feel like, at least as I see it now, I want to go back to my company and begin work on some new pieces, moving away from the comfort of a pre-existing script into some unknown territory. Then, while I can still audition for other shows, etc., I'll have that homebase for myself that I know now is essential for me.
Being a working actor is still my dream. But now, I have a better handle on what kind of working will be satisfying and fulfilling for me, and it's not waiting on line for cereal commercial auditions. While I lack the drive for that kind of acting lifestyle, I think I may have stumbled onto the path where my ambition is excited. Being an artmaker, not just a performer. So, cheers to that!
Love,
TGI
This is the longest time span I've gone since probably high school without the thrill of the cold-read, the thrill of the callback, and the disappointment of the phone that just won't ring. I haven't done a play in a long time, and have neglected to practice my monologues on London's sunny shores. At first, I was disappointed in myself. What am I doing? All my life, I've wanted to be an actor, and now, here I am, in London. SLACKING. The horror! And then, I realized, to use theatrical terms, what my motivation is. I don't just want to be an actor anymore. Allow me to clarify.
Ever since I started working with my own theatre company in New York City, I've been thrilled by the art-making process, not just onstage, but in all the thought and work and struggle that leads into that first rehearsal, and is rewarded (hopefully!) in opening night. It's certainly not easy, especially when one is a stubborn, headstrong single-minded gal like myself, reluctant to ask for help, and resentful of personal failure. But, I have never felt more artistically alive as I did when my production of My Name is Rachel Corrie opened and ran successfully for three weeks in New York City. Although I was in the production, my elation came not just from the thrill of being onstage; it existed also because I had had a hand in making the production happen. Somehow, it felt like "my" show. For the first time, I wasn't just an actor, working on someone else's production, towards his/her concept. It was "my" show and "my" concept that were heard. And i think, for me, that's where my dream has shifted now.
Meeting Lin Hixson has certainly helped me articulate this feeling for myself. She works in the way I hope someday to be able to sustain for myself. She and her collaborators develop artpieces from the ground up, and are able to support the work for a couple of years at a time on a single piece. While I'm too impatient to work under that (lack of) time constraint, I'm so envious of that style of artmaking. And that's what I now know I'm working towards. For me, artistic satisfaction isn't just in the audition room, and in between the proscenium arch anymore. Now, I want to be part of the conception and development process.
For now, I think, for me at least, that means some solo work. Having never for example done much creative-type writing, I want to see what I'm capable of, especially while I have the luxury of being within an academic framework. After this program finishes, I feel like, at least as I see it now, I want to go back to my company and begin work on some new pieces, moving away from the comfort of a pre-existing script into some unknown territory. Then, while I can still audition for other shows, etc., I'll have that homebase for myself that I know now is essential for me.
Being a working actor is still my dream. But now, I have a better handle on what kind of working will be satisfying and fulfilling for me, and it's not waiting on line for cereal commercial auditions. While I lack the drive for that kind of acting lifestyle, I think I may have stumbled onto the path where my ambition is excited. Being an artmaker, not just a performer. So, cheers to that!
Love,
TGI
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