Royal Academy of Arts: From Russia

Royal Academy of Arts: From Russia

I visited the Royal Academy of Arts for research into my character in The Cherry Orchard. They were showing French and Russian Master Paintings from 1870-1925. This is exactly the time when Luybov Ranevskya was both in France and Russia. I learned a lot from the paintings and the audio tour, everything from Russian history, to fashion and the social values of the time! Now, many people are used to using the internet as their only source of research, but we are warned not to forget about the other sources. Art, for me is by far one of the most effective ways to build character history, because you get visual information that is absolutely true to the time, and with a bit of background reading into history one quickly gets the whole picture.
The collection its self was not too large and takes approximately two hours to get through. It will run until the 18^th of April if you are interested in seeing it!

Review: Happy Now by Lucinda Coxon

National Theatre: Happy Now by Lucinda Coxon (World Premiere)

Director: Thea Sharrock
Michael: Stanley Townsend
Kitty: Olivia Williams
Johnny, Kitty’s husband: Jonathan Cullen
Miles: Dominic Rowan
Bea, Miles wife: Emily Joyce
June, Kitty’s mother: Anne Reid

I went to see Happy Now with my mother while she was visiting me in London. We were very lucky to get the last two available tickets, both returns, both front row seats! After the show my mother turned to me and said “That is like my life! I am so glad to know that I am not alone and crazy!” I thought that was such a wonderful complement to give the author and actors.
The show dealt with the everyday realities of marriage, relationships, and having kids. Happy Now was very relatable regardless of age or marital status. There were more than several moments during the show where the audience, myself included, had a parade of different emotional responses. While some people were laughing, others were watching uncomfortably, mainly because one didn’t know whether to laugh or cry about the blatantly obvious bittersweet truth about people, how we function in relationships and our own denial.
Before I go on I have to applaud the director for bringing together such a brilliantly cohesive show, and bringing forth such vulnerability from all the actors. Also applause for the set designer, Jonathan Fensom, who designed a set that was highly stylized, yet somehow generic, so that their home could have been anyone’s home, and very practical in term of scene changes.
Each character, especially Kitty, whom I thought gave an especially courageous performance, and Michael, who somehow managed to be completely repulsive and attractive at the same time, were so deliciously and scarily human, all completely neurotic in their own hilarious, frightening and distinct way, giving each a rich personal history, and that made them all easy to relate to. I walked out of that show both doused with a cold bucket of reality and with a small flame of hope for human communication, truthfulness and actual connection within society. Admitting we have a problem is the first step toward recovery.

Musee des Beaux Arts by W.H. Auden

Another poem that I liked that we are working on in Voice class.

Musee des Beaux Arts

About suffering they were never wrong,
The Old Masters: how well they understood
Its human position; how it takes place
While someone else is eating or opening a window or just walking dully along;
How, when the aged are reverently, passionately waiting
For the miraculous birth, there always must be
Children who did not specially want it to happen, skating
On a pond at the edge of the wood:
They never forgot
That even the dreadful martyrdom must run its course
Anyhow in a corner, some untidy spot
Where dogs go on with their doggy life and the torturer’s horse
Scratches its innocent behind on a tree.

In Brueghel’s Icarus, for instance: how everything turns away
Quite leisurely from the disaster; the ploughman may
Have heard the splash, the forsaken cry.
But for him it was not an important failure; the sun shone
As it had to on the white legs disappearing into the green
Water; and the expensive delicate ship that must have seen
Something amazing, a boy falling out of the sky,
Had somewhere to get to and sailed calmly on.

Review: the hour we knew nothing of each other

The hour we knew nothing of each other by Peter Handke at The National Theatre

Director: James MacDonald

There were 27 actors in the hour we knew nothing of each other playing 450 characters. A remarkable feat in itself, but what had really inflamed my curiosity was that this play, written by a “great experimental figure of European theatre” Peter Handke, is completely without dialogue. Set in a generic city square, that could be really anywhere in the world, a parade of characters cross the stage, none saying anything and only ever connected by proximity. A brilliant piece to watch, especially for physical theatre and character development. This show will take you through a range of emotions. I laughed, I cried, I cringed, I applauded. I was on the edge of my seat for almost the entire show. There were only two elements that I could have done with out. One was a character, a man in a yellow vest that seemingly commented on everything he or others did while he was on stage. I don ‘t know if that had to do with bad casting, direction or if that was called for in the script, but I felt that he was treating the audience as stupid, as if we needed to have the show explained to us. And two, was a random break from the realistic physicality of the play into a random moment where suddenly a woman walked down a stair created from all the players. So random and odd that I wish I could ask the director what that was all about.
At the beginning I was slightly hesitant, thinking “An hour and forty-five minutes with no dialogue?!” but time passed so quickly that it was a surprise when the show ended! Although somehow the show never really did end because the moment you step out of the theatre and walk down the street, you look at strangers in a completely different way. A fantastic study in physicality, body language, human connections and nature, as well as a great exercise in imagination, I loved this show.

Singing Lesson: Feb 25

More singing exercises:

On Italian vowels:
a = ah
i = ee
e = ay
o = oh (as in cold)
u = oo

Head Voice (Only up to E sharp)
123212321 888888888 7654321
/ on kiu / on lu

1 3 5 3 1 (melt onto the ah sound)
zzza o u o a
Chest Voice

5555 54321 (on gang that sounds like gong)

1 1 1 1 1 2 3 4 5 4 3 2 1
vvvi vi vi vi vi o i o i o i o i <- try any of the vowels

Area-51® m15x

That is the name of my new object of lust. I have been scoping out the Alienware’s new sexy notebook: The Area-51 M15X – 15.4 inch wide screen. It is the first notebook to make use of the VIDIA GeForce 8800M GTX graphics card, and it uses the Intel Core 2 Extreme processors, so its one powerful cookie. Also, neat features like its sleek design (especially compared to some of the more aggressive looking Alienware products), the light Fx, Smart bay (so if i wanted to put in a extra hard drive or battery I could), webcam and mircrophone, really make me drool a little bit.
I current am sporting a Compaq Presario V6000, which has been great, especially for scholastic purposes. However, now that I no longer have my old desktop I am continuously frustrated with my inadequate graphics card. Using programs like Poser and Bryce are a chore because the rendering takes forever, and none of my games work, and the one that does, the frame rate is so bad its barely playable! Considering that I am TV-less (and downloading is out of the question due to a indescribably bad internet connection) and any free time that I might have is usually in the couple hours before bedtime when activities for people who actually have to get up in the a.m. have ceased, I miss my entertainment. Alright, end of that little tantrum. Granted the Area-51 might be a tad overkill, especially considering the obscenely hefty price tag, but hey, a girl can fantasize!

Wild Geese by Mary Oliver

Just a short little poem that we worked on in Voice class yesterday…

“Wild Geese”
You do not have to be good.
You do not have to walk on your knees
for a hundred miles through the desert, repenting.
You only have to let the soft animal of your body
love what it loves.
Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you  mine.
Meanwhile the world goes on.
Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of rain
are moving across the landscapes,
over the prairies and the deep trees,
the mountains and the rivers.
Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air,
are heading home again.
Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,
the world offers itself to your imagination,
calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting-
over and over announcing your place
in the family of things.

How neat is this!

Just needed to share a headline I just came across! ‘Brain Control Headset for Gamers!”

This headset by Emotiv uses “a set of sensors to tune into electric signals naturally produced by the brain to detect player thoughts, feelings and expression. It connects wirelessly with all game platforms from consoles to PCs. The Emotiv neuroheadset now makes it possible for games to be controlled and influenced by the player’s mind.”

Other than just the pure excitement of being able to play games with your thoughts and creating a more real virtual reality, which is incredibly awesome to begin with, the development of this technology is exciting because of its potential! Who knows, just imagine, maybe someday we will be driving our cars with our body language, or sending an instant message via our thoughts with no more clunky keyboards to get in the way!

These puppies are going on sale for $299! Check out the website at www.emotiv.com!

Singing Lesson: Feb 18

I had my third singing lesson with my new tutor, Brenda, today. And, as usual, it was fab! I’m gonna post a review of the exercises and notes and stuff, mainly for my personal use because I keep misplacing my notes.

Warm up:
1 3 5 8 8 8 8 5 3 1  on Ga (dark ah as in father, not as in apple)

SungA/ HungA  on a single note (resonate in the post nasal cavity, lift soft palate. Think tennis ball in your mouth. Again dark ah, NO H’s, dive into the throat. Don’t stop the voice, stop the breath.) Start on a A flat (all chest voice)

12345432  x3 with pause _1

13243542  x3 with pause _1

15453525 x3 with pause _1

The purpose of the last three exercises are to keep your larynx level while jumping notes.

I got my first repertoire piece today. It’s an Italian piece by Alessandro Scarlatti called ‘O cessate di piagarmi‘ which roughly translates to O relent, no more torment me. In it I beg my tormentor to let me die. Lol, kinda moody but very beautiful.

School Work: Solo Story

We have two more weeks to bring together our Solo Story Project. For our Solo Story we each have to pick a story from our lives that caused a life changing moment and find a creative way to tell it in about 5 to 7 minutes. Here is my story:

“I was 16 the first time my parents let me roam around Amsterdam all by myself. It was a beautiful crisp spring day, sunny, blue skies spotted with a few fluffy clouds. I was making my way through De Dam, Amsterdam’s central plaza. There was a cheerful atmosphere as a few people wandered in and about the shops, cafes, and the large monument that dominated the plaza. I was walking towards one of the side streets and I noticed a yellow cab parked in front of a diamond shop.
A man in a long tweed coat and brown fedora stepped out of the back seat. Wisps of graying hair stuck out from under his hat, and his rugged face was covered by a graying beard. He was a tall man, with a confidence that only comes from power. Out from the other side of the cab stepped a stunning woman, obviously at least 20 years his junior. She had a head full of dark curls and was dressed fashionably in a fur lined jacket, suede skirt and heels.
Then time slowed as I saw the man freeze. The metallic glint of a silencer gleamed as it pressed against the powerful man’s forehead. The shinny tube was attached to the black matte of a Glock, which was firmly clasped in the hands of a killer.
Dressed in the cliche black trench coat and cap, he didn’t waver or flinch as he pulled the trigger. With a soft pop the back of the mans head exploded, spattering the ground with skull and gray matter. Lifeless, he fell over like timber.
As an after thought the killer aimed the gun at the woman, let loose another shot and ran as she crumpled to the ground.
Time stopped completely as the woman looked up, blue eyes wide with shock, face half red with the blood from where the bullet had grazed her skull, and she saw her dead companion. She reached for him.
I will forever remember this picture, from the dust filtering through the sunlight to the strangled sound that escaped her throat.
I remember that, at that moment, I wanted the killer, the threat, to die. Because of this, I know I would kill to survive. I still get flashes of fear if I walk through a plaza with a large monument in it.
The powerful man was a druglord visiting from Bulgaria. What if the killer isn’t so different from me? “

I think that the creative storytelling part with come with some props. I’m going to try and see if I can use the gun from the props closet, and throroughout the story slowly turn into the killer by putting on a black trench coat, cap and then bust out the gun at the end.