Posts tagged theatre
That's interesting.
HEY! If you have twitter, do me a favour and follow my theatre company on there?
If you follow us and just retweet stuff about us every now and then, you will help spread the word and maybe, just maybe, we won’t spend the rest of our lives in abject poverty making arty theatre that no one comes to see…
Stumbled across this. A trailer to one of most touching pieces of theatre I’ve seen in the last few months.
Not frantic assembly’s best work, as far as physical theatre is concerned, but as a piece of theatre in itself, was terribly, terribly beautiful.
Cried through about 90% of it.
I’m trying to read this.
I have a meeting with a tutor tomorrow, and I’m trying to get ideas from this book about stuff I can write about for my essay about my own theatrical practice.
There are several problems:
1- My brain won’t concentrate on reading.
2- I don’t actually think this is something I want to write about because I think it’s an incredibly old, borderline cliched approach, but I’m not clever enough to come up with my own angle on it.
3- I have run out of green tea, which makes everything, quite frankly, awful.
So, tonight I’m reflecting a little about the showings on Friday, and how I personally would like to take the show further.
Next term is going to be a difficult one, with making the Sustained Independent Project show, and also attempting to whore this one around the festival circuit.
The next few days will take a lot, lot, lot of self discipline from me- I need to research festivals, finish phenomenology once and for all, write up notes, and write in my journal.
I am, however, giving myself Thursday off to prepare for the Mr’s birthday.
For those of you who don’t care, the plans have come to this-
1- He will go to work.
2- I will go to shop and get strawberries and chocolate and grease proof paper.
3- I will come home, and prepare strawbs dipped in chocolate, then once they have set, hide them away somewhere cool.
4- I will go meet him at work, and take him to a cool Japanese place in Soho (nothing too fancy, I am perpetually poverty stricken, afterall).
5- We will enjoy yummy noodles and sushi and green tea, then come home, and I will present him with the disgusting 60’s vintage shirt I bought from Camden today, then tell him to wait down stairs.
6- Sexy lingerie agogo. Strawberries in hand. Call him up.
7- … Boink his brains out.
8- “Happy Birthday, I love you.” Collect girlfriend points, go to sleep.
Anyways. Back to thinking about show development and festivals and essay material… heh.
(Source: Flickr / susanmckeon, via xoxoamandamarie)
Performance Practices Project. Hampstead Heath- the icehouse. Journey there and back and find something special along the way…
If you go down to the woods today…
Does it stay cold for long in fairytales? Our group thinks so.
So, I’m sitting here, trying my damned hardest to concentrate on doing my Practitioner Study essay…
When I realise that I have borrowed all the wrong books from the library.
This is quite the conundrum, because I have no time to realistically go to the library, borrow the books, read them all, write a massive draft, send it to my batty, ever dreamy personal tutor for checking, have it sent back to me with comments, re-jig it, and expect to hand it in on time, alongside work, family commitments, and my Secret Cinema trip.
Anyone know of a site online where I can find obscure theatre books and read them? I’ve already tried Google books and it doesn’t have anything. I may have to change the point of my essay entirely. Always fun. FUCK EVERYTHING!
In other news- I met my landlord yesterday. He dropped by unannounced, said he wanted to come in and look around so he could show his wives. Yes, I shit you not. WIVES. Plural. And then he turned out, made a ‘come’ motion with his hands and whistled, as though ordering a showdog, and from a car parked near the flat, two women and a little girl got out and zoomed to his side. He showed them around, and they all jabbered away in a language I couldn’t understand (alas, my Turkish and German skillz were no good for this situation!). He turned to me at one point and said ‘are you happy living here? It’s a very nice posh place isn’t it? The flat’s good yes?’.
I stared, gobsmacked. I don’t care too much about the ‘posh’ bit. I never cared about that aspect of stuff anyway. But I couldn’t figure out what the fuck was going on. Either he really is a total douchebag arsewipe, or the agency has literally not contacted him at all despite my 75 million calls and emails complaining about the disgusting mould and damp problem in the front and back rooms. And the bathroom. And the live wire in the kitchen. And the lack of sofa when we moved in. And…
I kind of grimaced and awkwardly said it was okay. He asked me where I was from. I told him. One of his wives then came out of my flatemates room which she had been looking in and started asking me a question just at the same moment that he started to say something to me too.
It was awful. He didn’t even look at her, just held up his hand, and made a ‘sush!’ noise, and she fell silent, eyes looking to the ground, while he ploughed on ahead. I kind of stammered my reply to his question, then suddenly got really pissed off. I made a point of asking the wife what she was about to say. She looked too scared to talk again. So then I just plainly said, actually, no, everything in the flat ISN’T okay. And proceeded to walk around the place with him, chewing his ear off about every single thing that has bothered us so far.
I told my flat mate about it this morning and she couldn’t believe it. I still sort of can’t.
Anyway, this description is neither interesting for anyone to read, nor is it little more than hardcore procrastination right now. So I’ll go make myself a cup of green tea, find my Linda Mcartney sausages in the freezer for dinner later, and crack the fuck on with changing this whole fucking essay… ARGH.
?
Classified. The starting point was ‘a disconnected wire that ends in silence’. And the result was a piece that lead the audience through the school, and a busy underground station as they followed instructions given to them by a disembodied voice in a studio at the beginning of the piece while they apparently waited for performers to appear. The instructions told the audience to follow specific people or objects. We had to trial it three or four times and change the audience configuration several times. The tone also went from serious to jokey to a nice balance. The jokey version we trialled used the above- a newspaper with a cutout hole for watching. That was with the bookhouse boys.
Toxic Unicorn working and experimenting begins… My eyes projected onto a giant black wall through live feed :)
Classified…
So, following are some discussion points, quotes and ‘definitions’ that have been featured in my lecture week of classes recently. Love it.
