Ryan Performs in Places: Little Voice

If I wanted to, I could stand and breathe in the sunny air, letting it fill my lungs with the cool ripple of the sheer water's surface. I could open my body to the space and sing so loud it would fill the whole bay with notes and words and soul so it would fill the whole bay all the way to the mountains in the distance and reverberate to the heavens. But for now I'm a tiny voice sitting on the rocks, waiting for an opportunity.

Peace out!

Hell to the No - Fighting for the Arts Scene

This is an essay I recently wrote for my Expository Writing class. Hope you enjoy and I hope it calls you to action in some capacity whether it's activism, drawing a picture, singing a song, dancing a sparkly dance, writing a play, or performing on the street.

Hell to the No - Fighting for the Art Scene

            The Laramie Project is a play based on a compilation of interviews performed by playwright Moises Kaufman and the Tectonic Theatre Project. It centers around the city of Laramie, Wyoming and the vicious murder of the openly gay, local college student Matthew Shepard. The play was groundbreaking when it premiered in the early 2000s, is a major part of the American dramatic lexicon, and in the Spring of my senior year of high school would be coming to our humble theatre department.

            Needless to say, I was excited. To my blissfully youthful, theatrically growing mind, performing in The Laramie Project was like winning the Tony for Best Actor. I poured over the entire script, devouring it like it was fresh meat, like it would go bad if I didn't absorb it all in that instant. Once we finally received approval from the administration, a feat all in its own, we set to work adapting the script to fit into one act so we could take it to the Vermont state drama festival.

            After three months of rehearsal, and a sweeping win at the festival, we were ready to perform our creation to our own community, and it became my belief that EVERYONE needed to see this play. It was a necessity. To achieve my lofty goal, I came up with a brilliant plan to bring a camcorder into our final brush-up rehearsals, film segments of the play, and edit them into a kick-ass advertisement I would then play on a loop on this gigantic big-screen T.V. in the cafeteria during lunch.

            The first day of Plan Kick-Ass T.V. Advertisement was fairly smooth right up until the very end. From the designated "theatre kids" table which also included a few "band kids" we could spy a table full of testosterone-filled, redneck, back-of-the-woods, jockstrap-smelling football guys sitting right next to the T.V. Up until that moment, everything had been okay, but right at the end of the period the comments started flying.

            "What the fuck is this?"

            "Why do we have to watch this crap?"

            "Is this about some kind of fag?"

            And it all would have been okay, we would have been completely cool about the whole matter if they hadn't decided to get up and turn the T.V. off.

            Oh hell to the no.

            As I surveyed the cafeteria I noticed just how many members of the school administration and faculty were wandering around: quite a lot. And none of them; absolutely none of them were doing anything to stop the crude and vicious comments flying from the rednecks' food-filled mouths, or preventing them from physically silencing us.

            Right then, one of my best friends, and one of the lead women in our department, stood up. She stands about four foot, ten inches and has the voice of a cartoon Disney princess on helium, but she is scrappy and she was pissed. She marched past the beefy guys and flipped the T.V. back on, turning around to face the entire football team with an index finger pointed right at their noses.

            "Don't you DARE turn that T.V. off again!" she commanded. "I know all your moms, and I am NOT afraid to call them. You know, you could learn a lot from The Laramie Project."

            This confrontation is only one example of how my old high school executed several injustices against our arts programs. In my three years as a member of the prestigious Select Choral Ensemble group headed by our brilliantly talented and caring director, I witnessed several instances where the administration limited our budget so we couldn't purchase sheet music, professional outfits, or publicity for our concerts. They were completely unsupportive when we traveled to compete in various singing contests, and refused to announce our spectacular victories when the sports teams received top billing in assemblies. In some moments it felt like they weren't even treating our director like she was a real teacher. At the end of my senior year, the administration had pressured our director so hard and squeezed her and our Ensemble out so much that she finally gave up and quit. It's prejudice like that that makes me see how underappreciated and unsupported the arts are in our society, and that attitude starts in school.

            In the same year we performed The Laramie Project, a little show called Glee came into my life. Created by Ryan Murphy, Glee tells the story of a small-town high school glee club that perseveres despite the lack of support from the school system and their own personal struggles. Glee is basically a complete representation of my high school and every other establishment that puts the arts down. Every stereotype is depicted: the principal who doesn't want to fork anymore money over to the arts groups because it will detract from the sports programs slightly, the ultra-conservative teachers who refuse to see the benefits of the arts in people's lives and in our culture as a society, the peers who have adopted this negative view of the arts and artists themselves; automatically labeling them as "losers," and the little arts program run by a devoted teacher who persists in spite of everything.

            In an episode from season one, guest star Neil Patrick Harris plays a member of the school district looking to cut arts programs until he finds statistics which show the benefits of an artistic education and how the arts improve the lives and even the learning abilities of students. But it's not just Hollywood that's preaching the values of an artistic education. In an article from the December 1991 issue of Dramatics magazine, theatre professor, director, and author Louis Catron talks about how CEOs are attracted to theatre majors in their hiring process because they possess incredibly desirable qualities that trump even more qualified applicants. Some of these include communication skills, time-management and punctuality, confidence, independence, ability to work collaboratively, adaptability, and overall motivation. And yet it would seem these benefits aren't highly valued in our society despite the rigorous work and discipline that goes into an artistic education.

            At the University of Vermont I have to put in a total of 48 credit hours just for my theatre major. That's more hours than a pre-med student puts in at the undergrad level, and my classes are the furthest thing from easy. Along with my acting classes which are full of performances and serious training, I also have had to take several technical classes which have taught me how to use tools for construction, how present my work professionally, and how to operate complicated computer technology. I have also taken classes in dramatic analysis and theatre history which have taught me literature critique, how to do in-depth research, and more useful history than I'd ever learned in previous history classes. Last year I had to do a twenty page research paper on Spanish Renaissance playwright Lope de Vega along with theatrical conventions of the Spanish Renaissance. I became so interested and involved in that topic that I did the best research and wrote the best paper I think I'd ever turned out in my life.

            Despite all the proven benefits, testimonials, and shocking statistics, there is still so much discouragement in this country regarding the arts, especially the performing arts, from the harsh hierarchies in the halls of high school to the upper reaches of government. This is the government that established the National Endowment for the Arts but then in the early nineties denied funding to many influential and ground-breaking performances artists such as Karen Finley. Her shows brought about social consciousness of gender inequality and rape culture in the performance art atmosphere of the nineties. The Laramie Project shows audiences that problems such as discrimination, hate, and ignorance are issues that are still embedded in our society as our fantastic football friends showed us. Without artists such as Karen Finley and the Tectonic Theatre Project we would lose invaluable social tools that inspire thought and change for good, and we would lose our ability to point these issues out to audiences.

            We hear it all: we'll never get a real job, our lives are always going to be difficult, we'll be waiting tables for the rest of our lives, and so on and so on. The arts are completely undervalued because we are taught that they don't matter. Arts classes are "extra" and generally a waste of time, and anyone who enjoys and appreciates the performing arts are considered stuffy or "gay," and that's usually meant in the most derogatory way as possible. This is the time to stand up just like my friend did in the cafeteria, like the Glee kids do when they support each other in times of crisis, and like I do whenever I step out onto that stage and perform. We need to pat our weaves, take our earrings out, and pull our tap shoes off so we're ready to fight. Theatre kids are incredibly resilient even in the face of all the crap we have to hear about how pointless our dreams are because we know we're not going anywhere. There is this amazing drive artists have towards their work, a passion that thrives deep under our skin, and most of the time that art is the food that keeps us alive. As a basic survival instinct we have a fiery need to fight for our art.

            More than that, though, the arts make our lives better. They enrich our culture, entertain us, make us think, and stir up issues in society to create social change such as The Laramie Project which is so controversial it has sparked protests and rallies. If we don't fight for the arts, we would have no culture, and we would have no vehicle to continue the progress of humanity. Plus, theatre's what I love. It's what I'm good at. It's what makes me feel special, and I would be so sad without my showtunes to put me to bed at night.

Peace out!

WORKS CITED

The Laramie Project. By Moises Kaufman and The Tectonic Theatre Project. Perf. Denver Center Theatre    Company. The Ricketson Theatre, Denver. Feb. 2000.

"Dream On." Written by Brad Falchuk. Directed by Joss Whedon. Glee. Fox Broadcasting           Company. 18 May 2010.

What Theatre Majors Learn. 10 Oct. 2011. Milkin Quarterly: Milkin University. 22 Feb. 2012            

Ryan Performs in Places: Hairspray

I was in a flash mob this weekend to promote Lyric Theatre's Hairspray which opens next weekend on November 10th. I am in the show, and the cast and crew is super talented. This is going to be an awesome production especially since we've been rehearsing since August.

Here's a promotional video done by local Vermont newspaper Seven Days:



Hope you can make it to the show! See you there.

Peace out!

Ryan Performs in Places: Witches and Leaves

The forest smelt of spice and moisture settled on fallen leaves. The air filled with the murky dusk which settled like an ominous force upon the earth. All around were the noises of nature created a perfect harmony with the song which drifted on the evening wind. Drop, drop...a gentle rain cried upon the layer of mud and leaves, and over in the tallest tree sat a lone mourning dove whose throat gurgled in sadness. The birch trees showed their thick, white skins, radiating the reflected light from the cloudy atmosphere. In an act of surrender, the trees reached their branches to the sky. Along their bases drifted the misty lights of several fireflies in a vain attempt to illuminate the dusk.

From the darkness, the witches emerged to play. Their tiny feet pranced and trampled atop the matted forest floor, dancing between and around the trees, smacking the trunks with their calloused and withered hands. The slaps extended in the cold air to reverberate above the dark arms of the sky. It was a gathering, a nightly meeting consisting of numerous witches whose cries of joy and celebration filled the air. Their skin was several shades of green and brown, and they were covered in warts. Their grey hair flew up in fading locks around the brims of their pointed, crumpled black hats.

All at once, their singing grew into a chorus which shrieked over all the trees and the hillocks and the noises of the forest. Each yellowed smile of the witches joined into the jubilee, making the ruckus into a party. They danced closer to a dilapidated cabin which was overgrown in underbrush and forestation. It was very small, maybe no bigger than a closet or a doghouse, but it had a tiny window and a shingled roof which made it almost homey. The witches moved closer, sniffing the air and embracing the dusk. Each holding the hands of her nearest sister, the witches formed a circle around the cabin.

One of the hags stepped forward and grasped into the inner blackness of the cabin. With a grunt and wrench of her poor old arms, the witch pulled an enormous black cauldron from the depths of the cabin. Together, the witches brought the cauldron into a nearby clearing as the sky grew darker. One of the sisters bent down beneath the cauldron and exhaled upon the molding leaves upon the ground. Slowly the leaves dried and sparked so that the fire burned heavily to heat the cauldron.

As the firestarter stepped back in to the circle, another came forward placed her hands above the cauldron. A pool of green liquid began to form at the base of the cauldron, bubbling and boiling upwards until in was level with the brim. The witches cheered as the fireflies circled overhead, dancing and mingling the sparks from the fire so that they seemed one and the same. Bluish-green smoke rose of the hot liquid and curled to meet the tree branches. The witches were pleased with their work, and raised their arms in appreciation of the night, of life, and of creation. With a sweep of their arms, all of it disappeared. They vanished, and all that was left were the trees and the noises of the night.

Peace out!

It Took Ovaries

This is what I did this past weekend:

It was one of the most amazing performance experiences I've ever been a part of. On Friday, performance artist and co-playwright Bobbi Ausubel came to Royall Tyler Theatre to teach our Playing With Femininity class (seriously the best class ever---we just spend three hours reading plays about women and experimental theatre pieces while talking about sex, gender, and political issues) her physical technique of exploring character through improvisation, movement, and vocal work, not necessarily through sense memory and "The Method." She explained to us how emotions are held within our bodies, and the only way to act is to unleash these emotions through physical engagement. It was the most natural and invigorating way to act and explore character than I've ever learned. I loved it, and I want to use it in every acting work I do from now on.

Saturday night was the workshop performance. We performed the scenes from the play we had worked on and then Bobbi held a discussion of gender themes and what it means to live a bold lifestyle. She explained how change can only happen if we have the courage to stand up for injustice in our lives, in our society. The audience was amazing, and I had never felt such a connection with the audience before. It was all a shared experience just as gender discrimination and oppression is a shared experience every human being faces. Then in the nature of the play, Bobbi invited members of the audience to come up to the mic and share their stories, women for a time when they were bold, brazen, or courageous and for the men to talk about a woman in their life who had an ovaries moment. Some of the stories we got were funny, some were extremely emotional, some were inspirational, and some were a little awkward. I even got up and shared a story from high school. We created such a community in the theatre that night, and we had an amazing time celebrating women and a bold life.

"High School Gauntlet"

Bobbi Ausubel explaining the project.

I shared a story!

An emotional end to the scenes. "Rana"

For more information about the play That Takes Ovaries, Bobbi Ausubel, or how you can host an open mic, check out http://www.thattakesovaries.org/.

Peace out!

Rain

The sidewalk glistens in a malaise of oil and rainwater,
But at this point it doesn't matter.
The beat of the music in my head crawls to my shoes which skip through the puddles, scraping water from the
Ground while I swing the umbrella from side to side.
The heavenly ointment unleashes in torrents from the clouds,
Baptizing me in absolute happiness.
Each droplet on my face is a splash of joy.
Each step I take is a thought of you.
As the rain embraces me, I smile a curious and wide grin,
And drink up the tears of the sky.

My Everything Hurts

...and within a period of two days, I was packed up and moved out of my wonderful single in UHeights to the tiny double in Wills, but it's not all that bad. Somehow I found a way to take the lofted bed and fit Megan's loveseat under it. It created quite the batcave effect, which has been a pretty awesome addition to the room so far. I'm just waiting this week out now until Joe arrives on Sunday and school starts.

I'm so completely ready for school to start. Everything is in order, schedules have been made, books have been bought (In 14 different orders on Amazon as well as one from UVM.), and supplies have been organized. Megan and I just talked about how exciting it's going to be to pack up our backpacks Sunday night before  the first day of school. I could not be more pumped and ready to go. I'm also super excited about being a TA and doing Hairspray rehearsals.

These all came today.

I actually had quite the stressful day right before getting completely moved out and going home for the weekend. It began when I went to the UVM Residential Life office, like I was told to do, and waited for ten minutes at the front desk until someone came out into the lobby to ask me if anyone had been helping me. Since no one was, the woman went back in and got me the key to my room. Once I was packed up, I moved a bunch (basically everything I owned) to Wills. When I went to lock the door, however, the key wouldn't turn in the lock. After swearing profusely, I ran to the front desk of my new dorm where the office manager was just about to take off for the day. She got me the right key all the while wondering why ResLife gave me the wrong one and where they got it. Needless to say that key worked.

Then, when I tried to turn my computer (Bertha) on to see if there was wireless in my new dorm, the screen fizzled out and went dark. I screamed and raced to the Computer Depot in the Davis Center with my baby clutched in my arms. There they hooked her up to another computer and determined that the problem was probably physical, so I had to send it in to the company. After talking with a thickly accented Indian customer service representative for an hour, we determined that there was definitely something wrong but my warranty had run out. It was cheaper to buy another computer.

Moment of silence for Bertha...........


Now enter Marcus, my new computer, who is very sleek and runs with Windows 7. I'm hoping Marcus will serve me well. This is my first blog post with him, and it's working quite well. Thank you, Costco! (Yes, we got my new computer at Costco.)


This weekend I also got the chance to go see Chase's directorial genius in Hairspray at the Haskell Opera House. I really missed that place from last summer, and I especially missed Lissy (who was amazing in the show), Chase (who needs a Broadway stage, stat), and Kat (who continues to astound me with her stage managing abilities). It was great to see everyone and take in an awesome show.

It was weird to watch the show and then come back to Burlington to start rehearsing it. But rehearse we did. Matt and I have been carpooling to rehearsals and totally rocking them. Hope you can all make it to the show! There will be links up soon over in the right sidebar. ------------------->


In the end: my back, my neck, my arms, my abs, and my legs are killing me. The dances are hard and I was totally drenched in sweat on Sunday but it's totally worth it. I missed working this hard for theatre so much. I felt so broken from lack of theatre (yet again) after having it the whole time last summer, and having this opportunity to perform on the big stage at the Flynn is absolutely amazing. For people like me, and Matt, and Chase, and Lissy, and Kat, anything is worth it for theatre.


And sweat is worth it.


Here are some more pictures from Megan and my drive yesterday to the Champlain Islands. It was a lot of fun and we found some Vermont nut free chocolates!

Another highlight from this weekend:





Peace out!

Just A Couple of Poems

I wrote these for my Creative Writing class. I think I'm going to start writing more because these were a lot of fun as was this class. Enjoy!

They told me she was gone.

They told me you were gone,

But I didn’t believe them.

I knew that tomorrow I had to wake up next to you.

They showed me your coffin,

Asked me to say something in your honor,

But I couldn’t do it, not for them.

I tried to remember why they were burying an empty coffin,

And I looked for you, honestly I did.

They told me you were gone.

I told them they were lying.

We would meet for dinner that night

At your favorite restaurant.

I would walk you through the park,

And the streetlights would illuminate the trees

So that they seemed to embrace us

Just as I stopped to caress your cheek.

I knew I would have to lean in close

And you would breathe softly

While your heart picked up speed.

Our lips had to touch,

And I had to hang onto you

Because I knew that I could never lose you.

They stand like mountainous pillars rising into the sky,

Taller than anything I’ve seen before.

My mind wanders along their sides,

Mixing with the smog and clouds above.

The lights are mesmerizing,

Illuminating the night as though the Sun’s light had been born on Earth.

Here I find no need to be scared,

Here I feel the pull of home.

Strolling the streets is like taking a tour of the world.

Different people of all different lives share this air, and share this city.

Everything is available, every culture represented, everyone has a place,

And every dream is achievable.

My dreams are born here,

In the whiskey-scented nightclubs and the haze filled dance floors,

From the wombs of Sondheim’s characters and the heart of Hammerstein’s music.

My soul was manifested from the backdoor alleyways and the rooftops at night,

My heart forged on the stage floor and exiting out the backstage door.

Peace out!

Ryan Performs in Places: Music Hall

"Out There" from Disney's The Hunchback of Notre Dame by Alan Menken

A freewrite I wrote yesterday for my Creative Writing class:

The concept of “art” means something different to everyone. It’s the emotion of something that brings art to life. When you create something that has an emotional impact on somebody or something, that’s art. It can be anything: dance, music, theatre, painting, sculpting, it could even be something as simple as a good dinner. Or for some art can be a sports game or a nice day. It is a moment, a simple, clear, and beautiful moment that sparks a heavy emotion. To me, life itself can be a high form of art. It’s God’s art in a way, because it (of course) sparks heavy emotion in all of us. But then again, what if art didn’t mean that to someone else? would that change the very concept and illusion of what art was. What if that painting wasn’t art? What if that chicken dish isn’t as beautiful as a Rembrandt or as thrilling as a hockey game? Then that would make art perceptive. Art would have to based on the individual’s perception on the world. That concept in itself is a thing of beauty, and therefore art. Here we find a cycle, just as precise and complex as the water cycle, but entirely based on the spectrum of human emotion and spirit. Yes, I mentioned spirit. For where does art exist if not the very soul of human beings? Where can art come from? Sure, there has to be some sort of logical, scientific explanation for where art comes from, some random synapse in the brain that triggers an emotional impact or the urge to create, to make, to do, to perform, to sing, to dance, etc. But what if…what if we just took a moment to ponder the wonderfully amazing idea that art can exist elsewhere. It can reside in a glorious tomb, womb, some word of like that…of the soul. Inside of the individual, there is a well of emotion that comes pouring forth from us, and that is where art takes hold. That is where art can capture the imagination. We see it in small children…how their imaginations can create friends and whole worlds. I remember as I child I could imagine that my whole backyard was an enchanted forest, and here I was an explorer of that forest, transcending the mundane of reality and delving into the fantastical. What is wrong with that? why can’t art explore itself in the reaches of humanity that scientists fear to tread? That is how art becomes us. It is the very meat of humanity. It is the very breath of humanity. One of my favorite theatre troupes is the Bread and Puppet theatre residing in Glover, Vermont. Their motto is “Art is Cheap” and that it is the very food for the soul. And why not? If it is made from the soul and produced in the very orifices of the human race, then why should we not take as much in as we can, like food to a starving homeless person. It is vital. It is life force. It is beautiful, wonderful energy. That feeling you get when you hear an amazing soprano belt the high note, when you stare at a painting and see the vibrant and ever so slight brush strokes, when you taste a delectable meal and sigh with contentment.

Peace out!

Beauty

I made the most amazing chocolate chip cookies last weekend. You know you want one.

Friday morning at work I made the most excellent Harry Potter themed weather board in anticipation of the FINAL MOVIE this past weekend.

Jake was supposed to come over this past weekend so we could all go see Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows Part 2 together but unfortunately Jake's car broke down. So, no Jake this weekend, but Megan and I still had a super awesome weekend which began with a lot of crying, cheering, and sobbing. Yes, I did all of those things while watching Harry Potter because to me, and to a whole generation of people, this movie really marks the end of an era. It marks the end of our childhoods, the last thing we grew up with.

I finished my re-read of the series on Friday just as I finished my desk shift. As I walked upstairs, I wiped tears from my eyes thinking about the adventures I had just been through, all the emotions I had felt, and all the lessons I had learned with Harry and his friends. And in one day's time, I knew that it was all going to end.  It's crazy how something so simple can effect people, and how a single story can make connections between people.

My hands shook as the opening credits played and my heart stopped when I remembered Dobby's death. I laughed when Hermione transformed into the evil Bellatrix Lestrange (Helena Bonham Carter is a genius.), I cheered when Harry, Ron, and Hermione escaped Gringotts on the back of a dragon, I cried when Professor McGonagall unleashed her rage against the man who had murdered Dumbledore, I shook when Voldemort and the Death Eaters came to Hogwarts and began the battle, I screamed when Nagini murdered Snape and sobbed when Harry learned of Snape's true alliance, I weeped when Harry learned his true destiny and marched into the Forbidden Forest with his family by his side, I smiled when Harry survived the Avada Kedavra curse again only to come back to the castle and fight and win.

It was amazing, and a beautiful ending. To watch Harry send his own children off to Hogwarts was the most brilliant ending there could be. Thank you for these stories J.K. Rowling, you have brought so much joy to so many children with your writing.

On the way to Middlebury to dance in the street - Big Band style.

A U.F.O.! Of course a theatre would have this set up.

The coolest storefront ever.

One thought that's crossed my mind lately is the way actors work. I don't want to give my own tools away because their mine, but most teachers (Hagen, Stanislavski, Strasberg, Meisner, mostly The Method) talk about finding a substitution for the emotional moment of a scene from your own past. For example, if I had a scene where a character was arguing with someone who abandoned him, I would try to think of a moment in my own life when I ever felt abandoned or betrayed to substitute that real emotion into the character. (For me, sometimes this really isn't enough. I like the Practical Aesthetics method introduced by David Mamet which involves create a physical image of a character, imagining the "given circumstances," and then filling in with substitutions and emotions.) Megan brought up the strange dilemma to me when actors stop feeling in real life, and the only way they can express emotion becomes the stage in a character, they're not able to have emotion themselves. It's kind of that image of the "stoic actor" who is very pompous, speaks in monotone, but when they get on the stage they completely transform.

In a way, the stage becomes an actor's form of therapy. But is it crossing a line when an actor can no longer feel in their own lives? I think the answer is yes. Uta Hagen talks about how the actor needs to be a vessel for emotion, and in an interview with Jennifer Anniston that Megan and I were watching, she mentioned how she feels like the actor has a deep well of emotion that they just use. Being that "emotional sponge" is the way an actor becomes a character. Actors have to let emotion effect them. Always. That's how we get the tools we need to play characters. We need to embrace the brilliant happiness and deeply feel sadness and anger in order to convincingly use the entire spectrum of human emotion when creating the aesthetic of a character.

So that's why I cried, laughed, cheered, and sobbed through Harry Potter. Because that's what I felt, and I was filling my well.

Peace out!

Ryan Performs in Places: Beach Improv

Improv movement is about the moment. It's about letting go of all inhibitions and being free.

It starts with Meditation, then
Inspiration,
Creativity, and finally
The Moment.

I gave myself two modes with a transition point in between them as my guidelines.

Ryan Performs in Places: Blackbird

Hey ya'll! I'm starting a new series called Ryan Performs in Places. I'm basically going to go to places and perform. It could be singing, or dancing, or acting, or whatever I feel like and it could be anywhere...I'm like that kid who dances in Apple stores except not really. I will post my favorites on Youtube. Anyway, for my first performance, I sang The Beatles' "Blackbird" under the tree outside University Heights. Give me a little bit of credit, okay this is my first time posting a video like this. I was a tid bit nervous...Enjoy!

Peace out!

Contact Improvisation

Here are a few pictures from the final session of my Movement and Improvisation class this semester:

We went down to Oak Ledge park in Burlington down by the waterfront to do some dancing and site improving. It was raining so hard and the lake was so flooded that the beach no longer existed and the water was sweeping up onto the walkway, dragging full trees out to open water and eroding away the trail. It was a lot of fun though and a great example of how beautiful the performing arts are in any medium when they persevere. That was basically how the end of the semester happened for me: perseverance. By the end of April, I was feeling like there was legitimately no more brain/will power that I could give. Somehow it all happened though including my Theatre History final which was a beast. Greece through the Renaissance. Bam. Overall, it wasn't that bad and the transition into this new job is going smoothly. Today was our last day of training and I'm definitely ready to begin the actual job and the actual summer. If only this rain/thunder/massive amounts of lightning would quick for a moment. But let's take a minute to see what my summer has been like so far.

Summer 2011 So Far: 
1. I work in an office now. Which is a much better improvement from McDonald's, however it's a little weird for me. I'm just not totally emerged into it yet. Soon though. The cool thing is I get to work in all these different UVM buildings where I find things like this:

A composting toilet! It's basically a hole in the floor and when you push a button foam eats your poop.

2. Rain.

3. GAGA. Her new album is probably going to be my soundtrack during the whole summer. So much fun, I love it. It's so artful and full of character and life. It's the best to rock out to.

4. My new room in UHeights! One of the amazing perks of this job is that I get a free room in the swanky UHeights dorm on campus. I feel like I have my own apartment. It's fantastic, but I feel like I'm getting way too spoiled before next school year...

5. Beginning to have summer fun with Megan. The other night we went to the waterfront and started walking along the Burlington bike path as the sun set. It was beautiful, even though the water is still incredibly flooded and high and was eroding away the earth under the trees along the shore. It was part of the magic though.

6. Thinking about myself, and how I feel, and what I want to do with myself in the present and in the future. Ever since Voice and Speech I've thought about how I take care of myself as an artist and I've started really doing warm ups in the mornings and taking care of my voice and the rest of myself. I think I'm going to start doing Sun Salutations (yeah, yoga!?) and stretches out on the lawn this summer. Those are the things that make me feel good and happy, so why not do them? I've also been thinking about a performance piece I've been thinking about writing, and next semester, and grad school, and Hairspray, and why the hell am I not doing any performing the summer, etc.

This was part of a text I just sent to Megan:

"i hope i can really kick ass thru the rest of college and make something of myself in grad school u know? i still feel like im missing myself. im missing myself in parts that i only find when im truly in the moment performing (when im not being judged by teachers or peers) or when we're together doing something crazy :)"


Peace out!

Lope Is My Friend: A Spanish Comedia

Yesterday I (and all of the Theatre History students at RTT) turned in their gigantic final research papers for the semester. It was quite a feat finishing that beast, let me tell you. Mine came out to about 16 pages with 60 endnotes, 4086 words, and a four page bibliography. I could not be more proud of it, though. It's beautiful. It's my personal little (or not-so-little) work of art. And in the whole process of researching and writing this monstrosity, I think I made a friend.

That friend is Lope de Vega, a 16th Century Spanish Renaissance playwright and poet, and the subject of my paper. Lope was a child prodigy of the written word, and once claimed that he had written fifteen hundred plays in the span of his life. He had a dark past filled with women (LOTS of women, Lope was a player. He finally married an insane woman. Literally, insane.), exile, travels throughout Spain, death, a stint as an ordained priest, and an eventual decline in popularity, health, and well being. This totally did not stop him from being completely awesome, though. He had huge impacts in the world of literary drama and theatre. Lope was writing during the Spanish Golden Age of theatre when the private and public spheres were colliding, when the world of theatre was becoming professional with acting troupes (which even included women on the stage), when elaborate costumes were paid for and contributed by the community, and the building of permanent theatres. In 1609, Lope went before the Madrid Academy (the big cheese of the Spanish literary world) and introduced his Arte nuevo de hacer comedias en este tiempo in which he introduced a new form of the comedia (play). Lope's form would become the national drama of Spain because it combined the classical styles with modern Spanish concepts to create more accessibility with its audiences. Not only that, but Lope's dramas emphasized the theme of honor in the lowest classes on people, even peasants. He also created strong female roles which embodied honor and a woman's virtue. Lope was amazing, despite his personal failings.

My paper also explored the reasons why we as a Western culture do not know anything or study anything about Lope or all of Spanish culture/literature. What I found was a historical phenomenon known as the Black Legend, a prejudice that traces its roots all the way back to the Protestant/Catholic tensions between Spain and the rest of Europe, especially its worst enemy England. It's this prejudice that has lasted us for so long, and it's this same type of prejudice that prevents us from truly seeing modern cultures such as some Middle Eastern and Asian cultures because of stereotypes and prejudices we have placed on a whole group of people. It makes you see the world differently when you have it all laid out in front of you.

Lope stood for the little people. He wrote about the passion and honor of the peasant, even if he was a player... He made contributions to the intellect, form, and evolution to the Spanish drama. That's why Lope is my new friend. I got pretty emotional as I finished the final sentences Sunday night at 12:30 in the morning, and it wasn't just because I was exhausted. I felt like I was letting go of and losing a really great friend. But Lope will always be in my mind and in history. And by the way, bringing all of those books back to the library was an unbelievable feeling.

Yeah, that's right. A whole Price Chopper shopping bag.

One of my books on the Black Legend was called Tree of Hate, and there was a hilarious picture of the professor who wrote it. He looked terrifying and like he was constantly judging you. I forgot to take a picture of it, but here is me trying to replicate it for you:

This doesn't really do it justice, especially with my Reese's bowl behind me, but you get the idea. TREE OF HATE!!!

Thanks Lope for all the fun times!

Peace out!