It's All About Me
Whew. Since we finished The Amazing Dicky it's been more than a little hectic for me. Busy at work, with a new upgrade to our web site last Friday. My mom's 75th birthday last Saturday, which wasn't a big time commitment. Some stress in seeing mom again I'm sure, though I never really acknowledged it. And, Eclectic Theatre needed an ensemble actor for All's Well That Ends Well, which was playing all last weekend starting Thursday. I took that opportunity knowing the stress it would create, but desirous of another Shakespeare production on my resume, and this one an in the park type. Plus I really do like Shakespeare.
It was less than two weeks rehearsal for me, and some scenes I'd only run once prior to the first preview. Even with just five lines and a song it is tough for me to have them there for natural recall without a few runs. I apologize to the bard for paraphrasing one of my lines on the first preview. Half way through I'm thinking, "Wait this is all cocked up and backwards", but in that moment of shame and panic I charged right through somehow managing to not lose or change the meaning. And it wasn't the typical phrase or word swap, rather starting with a cascade of key words. Thanks for those improv workshops John, Gary, and Rachel!
I was beating myself up quite a bit for taking on a project without a real break after working two concurrently. On Saturday the Artistic Director made a point of giving me a very nice compliment on my work. So, that doesn't keep me from trying to do much better and find new pearls in my bits for the last three shows. It does make the show a lot more enjoyable, and positive.
Singing? A tremulous and horrified question asked by any of you that have heard me sing. Happily Touchstone castigates the performance so my singing ability is perfect for the scene. I'm scared of singing, and on the last show I actually found myself singing pretty much strongly and on key for the first of the three short verses. Just that thought was enough to make the other two verses appropriately god-awful. Even that is fun, and it may well be a presumptuous flight of fancy, but with a lot of practice I might actually be able to sing a bit.
I had an interesting experience on Thursday or Friday's performance. I'd talked with someone as we watched a little boy running on the lawn across the drive from our production. We mused, "We used to play like that thoughtlessly, and now we work our tails off to get there again." Not long afterward I was far over on the stage left side of the area we were working when little girl ran skipping and merrily laughing down what was the edge of our playing area. Like a sprite flitting across our Forest of Arden. I had an emotional recollection of the feeling of play as a kid. Remembering playing cowboys or cops and robbers, and knowing when I got someone with my toy cap pistol and then when Brian Redmond got me. He was angry at first because I didn't die immediately, but he got me in the stomach so I didn't have to die instantly and got to nicely writhe in my agonized death throes, which more than soothed his crossness. We both knew he got me dead. We were still Scott and Brian, both 6 and 5 years old, and at the same time fully invested in our characters and make-believe world.
These little epiphanies are not infrequent. At the moment they are experienced they feel profound, yet they each represent an incremental movement back to what we once were. There were some kids who didn't know when they were hit or got a hit. Where does that fit in? Were we on a different wavelength? Were some of us more into the game itself, and others more into claiming a 'real world' victory regardless of the reality we were working in? This has gone beyond the scope of the art of acting into questions of art, greed, and integrity. Fun places to go, but for now I'm more interested in growing my art (or lack thereof). That keeps me plenty occupied.
It was less than two weeks rehearsal for me, and some scenes I'd only run once prior to the first preview. Even with just five lines and a song it is tough for me to have them there for natural recall without a few runs. I apologize to the bard for paraphrasing one of my lines on the first preview. Half way through I'm thinking, "Wait this is all cocked up and backwards", but in that moment of shame and panic I charged right through somehow managing to not lose or change the meaning. And it wasn't the typical phrase or word swap, rather starting with a cascade of key words. Thanks for those improv workshops John, Gary, and Rachel!
I was beating myself up quite a bit for taking on a project without a real break after working two concurrently. On Saturday the Artistic Director made a point of giving me a very nice compliment on my work. So, that doesn't keep me from trying to do much better and find new pearls in my bits for the last three shows. It does make the show a lot more enjoyable, and positive.
Singing? A tremulous and horrified question asked by any of you that have heard me sing. Happily Touchstone castigates the performance so my singing ability is perfect for the scene. I'm scared of singing, and on the last show I actually found myself singing pretty much strongly and on key for the first of the three short verses. Just that thought was enough to make the other two verses appropriately god-awful. Even that is fun, and it may well be a presumptuous flight of fancy, but with a lot of practice I might actually be able to sing a bit.
I had an interesting experience on Thursday or Friday's performance. I'd talked with someone as we watched a little boy running on the lawn across the drive from our production. We mused, "We used to play like that thoughtlessly, and now we work our tails off to get there again." Not long afterward I was far over on the stage left side of the area we were working when little girl ran skipping and merrily laughing down what was the edge of our playing area. Like a sprite flitting across our Forest of Arden. I had an emotional recollection of the feeling of play as a kid. Remembering playing cowboys or cops and robbers, and knowing when I got someone with my toy cap pistol and then when Brian Redmond got me. He was angry at first because I didn't die immediately, but he got me in the stomach so I didn't have to die instantly and got to nicely writhe in my agonized death throes, which more than soothed his crossness. We both knew he got me dead. We were still Scott and Brian, both 6 and 5 years old, and at the same time fully invested in our characters and make-believe world.
These little epiphanies are not infrequent. At the moment they are experienced they feel profound, yet they each represent an incremental movement back to what we once were. There were some kids who didn't know when they were hit or got a hit. Where does that fit in? Were we on a different wavelength? Were some of us more into the game itself, and others more into claiming a 'real world' victory regardless of the reality we were working in? This has gone beyond the scope of the art of acting into questions of art, greed, and integrity. Fun places to go, but for now I'm more interested in growing my art (or lack thereof). That keeps me plenty occupied.
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