Raindrops keep falling on my head
Today B and I went to Cathedral Island and the Botanical Gardens and got caught in an enormous rainstorm. Poland may have small raindrops, but it also has big ones.
polandering
Raindrops so small that you can’t even feel them in your hair in the day, and thunder every night, so loud it sounds like Zar breaking glasses before GOSPELS OF CHILDHOOD. But the thunder doesn’t always mean it rains for long.
hier soir
I saw, back to back, the Suzuki ELECTRA and the Song of the Goat MACBETH.
The ELECTRA’s highly choreographed staging was lovely. Everyone liked the on-stage drummer, the over-the-top drama queen Clytemnestra, and the Chorus in wheelchairs. But I couldn’t help but be a little disappointed in how controlled it was. I have come to think of all movement systems, including Suzuki, as training wheels to help the performers achieve a sense of release and spontaneity. I didn’t see that in this production, and especially not in the Chorus.
It made me think of how many productions I did with controlled choruses, albeit not nearly as well as this. It’s a type of work I am no longer interested in.
I went into the MACBETH with disappointment already in my brain, as a result – and although I love SOTG’s work, this time, I was much more critical. I spent the whole production thinking, “Am I really going to try to work with them? Really?” and, by the end, had almost convinced myself out of the whole thing.
I was back on the train of thought that I’ve had a first-class berth on for eight months – that all my chorus work is derivative. That I should just quit. That I don’t know what I’m doing and I should stop. And I felt, again, like sticking my head in a hole in the ground and never coming out.
It was at that point that I realized something. It doesn’t really matter whether I come to work with SOTG or not, or whether I take Step A or Step B in pursuit of the chorus. I could do any number of things. But when I think of the possibility of one day working with SOTG, I am inspired, and I have a reason to keep working. When I think that there’s no point in even trying, I am in despair.
I have to keep believing in it to keep believing in anything.
Brooking Encouragement
The Peter Brook production of Beckett’s FRAGMENTS lived up to my very, very high expectations. Brook does so much with so little. His minimalist, understated, actor-driven directing reminds me of my teacher T from Harvard-Westlake. It was like coming home, seeing his work again. He’s so good. He only keeps getting better. I can’t hype him enough.
be careful what you wish for
cause it might come true. More new posts. Today, I sat two feet away from Schechner while he talked to us for an hour about Grotowski. Tonight, Brook.
Say that again?
Ms. Sands sent identical scripts to artistic directors and literary managers around the country. The only difference was that half named a man as the writer (for example, Michael Walker), while half named a woman (i.e., Mary Walker). It turned out that Mary’s scripts received significantly worse ratings in terms of quality, economic prospects and audience response than Michael’s. The biggest surprise? “These results are driven exclusively by the responses of female artistic directors and literary managers,” Ms. Sands said.
Amid the gasps from the audience, an incredulous voice called out, “Say that again?”
Ms. Sands put it another way: “Men rate men and women playwrights exactly the same.”
Ms. Sands was reluctant to explain the responses in terms of discrimination, suggesting instead that artistic directors who are women perhaps possess a greater awareness of the barriers female playwrights face.
– “Rethinking Gender Bias in Theater,” NYT
also,
New stuff galore this AM. I think I’m really starting to figure out how to write about this.
good morning
I haven’t posted pictures yet because I have discovered that the little bag containing all my computer cables except my charger – but my phone/computer synchronizing cable, Ipod/computer sync cable, camera/computer sync cable, etc – was also taken with the wallet and cell phone. Arrgh.
I am starting to feel great about the wallet having been stolen. It makes me feel more like I am part of Poland, or like the country is somehow welcoming us all back, albeit in kind of a “Welcome to Poland! You’re screwed!” way.
And G was telling me, yesterday, that he has had his wallet stolen from him in multiple countries, even when it was in the front pocket of his jeans. He travels expecting that that may happen, and only takes essentials out with him. Not a bad idea, and makes me feel less like a dumb tourist. G’s very experienced and travels all the time. If he can get hoodwinked, I’m not going to worry about it.
Dara Weinberg 