tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-130608032024-03-23T14:11:21.857-04:00learning silence to better speakHe is the one who breaks down walls<br>
and when he works, he works in silence.
- Rainer Maria RilkeScotthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04134217587032952825noreply@blogger.comBlogger128125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13060803.post-59526384513282364562011-11-01T15:29:00.001-04:002011-11-01T15:32:59.587-04:00This blog is defunctThanks for coming here! I am currently updating regularly at <a href="http://scottleewilliams.blogspot.com">http://scottleewilliams.blogspot.com</a>. All the archived content from here, is now there. See you there!Scotthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04134217587032952825noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13060803.post-67506978525954017102008-10-08T13:48:00.004-04:002008-10-08T14:15:40.352-04:00I was not wrongSo that was awful. Simply dreadful. Me, the producer, the director, and the stage manager in a 6 by 10 room, all of us watching me flail around trying to find distinct physicality for 6 different characters. One of the problems is a disconnect from my body that manifests itself in a particular stiffness. That's one. The other problem is far more destructive.<br /><br />Director: OK, let's try it again. I really want to see the difference between this character and the last.<br /><br />Me (clueless, feeling totally out of ideas, desperately ransacking my brain to think of how people actually move, since I've now apparently become a robot who is propelled around the room by glitchy algorithms that cause him to twitch like a deranged flamingo): Yeah, great. Let's give it a shot.<br /><br />Voice in my head: <span style="font-style:italic;">You suck. The director is sorry she has to work with you. You have no connection to real people, and you are a bad human being.</span><br /><br />(flailing attempt at characterization, all the time fighting to maintain emotional equilibrium)<br /><br />Director: OK, can you try that again?<br /><br />Me (panicking now): Sure. Absolutely. Let me just see. (pause to catch my breath internally, draw a complete blank on next gambit. Fuckit, wing it.) <br /><br />(try again, only bigger, trying to ignore the rising black tide of anxiety)<br /><br />Voice in my head: <span style="font-style:italic;">You <span style="font-weight:bold;">totally</span> suck.</span><br /><br />Repeat <span style="font-style:italic;">ad infinitum</span>.<br /><br />Leaving the rehearsal (after two excruciating hours), I swore I would never act in another show ever again. Jesus. I was wishing I wasn't in this one. I had no business looking at a script, let alone getting on a stage. <br /><br />As soon as I was done and was by myself for an hour or so, I felt better. Calmer. More like myself again, but still. What a mess. So, I've got homework. To find pictures of possible triggers for the characters, and to find essential "psychological gestures" for each of the 6 characters.<br /><br />Oh, and to look at old people. All the old people I've ever known walked around like 50 year olds until they suddenly were confined to wheelchairs at the age of 95. I have no idea how old people walk, move, talk. It's like an entire demographic effectively stopped existing for me. Need to rectify that pretty quickly, considering I play an old coot who happens to be the last surviving extra from the movie <span style="font-style:italic;">The Quiet Man</span>.<br /><br />So, I've got a day to learn how to loosen up, shut up the voices in my head, learn how to walk like an 80 year old man, and get a passable Irish dialect.<br /><br />Wish me luck!Scotthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04134217587032952825noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13060803.post-32685299658135574042008-10-07T11:41:00.004-04:002008-10-07T11:57:11.558-04:00There is you, and then there is your bodyThe first rehearsal, the read through, is actually where I feel the most comfortable. I can make ridiculous choices, nobody cares, and nobody will really judge because they are too busy wondering what you think about them. Plus, there's no strain of "where do I stand, where do I move, what's my line again?" I feel like I can go with impulses and make choices and try things. It's when I get on my feet that I start to feel stiff and wooden, like I'm trying too hard.<br /><br />Part of it might be that once I have found something, I like to stick with it, even to the point where the impulse is no longer authentic. I operate on instinct and have a regrettable tendency to get bored with myself. I get self-conscious later in the process, as opposed to becoming more confident. If I were to diagram it, my process might be:<br /><br />1. Initial receiving of script: abject terror. Why did I decide to do this? All the time eaten up in a rehearsal process, and really I'm not that good an actor, I have no idea why I keep putting myself through this.<br />2. First reading: Oh, hey, you know, I'm pretty fucking good at this. I love reading. I'm making choices, getting laughs, trying things. Yeah, this is gonna work out awesome.<br />3. Rehearsal process: Oh, God, why did I say I would do this? I'm a fraud, obviously. The only reason I haven't been called out on it is that the director is trying to make the best of a bad situation. Jesus.<br />4. Memorization: why did I smoke so much pot in college? My brain is a fucking sieve! (unless it's Shakespeare, which is remarkably easy to memorize for me). Please God, don't let me go up like I did at that summer stock theater that one time. Jesus.<br /><br />And if I'm lucky:<br />5. dress rehearsals: Oh, this isn't so bad. yeah. There might be some moments here and there that are working. OK, I get it, I get it.<br />And if I'm VERY lucky:<br />6. End of Run: Oh, man, I'm just really starting to nail it every time. Shit, can't we extend? They love us! C'mon, man! Just one more show.<br /><br />We enter phase 3 tonight. Pray for me, bitches.<br /><br />BTW, without indicating why, I would like to say I am also a little worried about the show coming to completion, given the recent economic downturn. Cash Rules Everything Around Me, dollar-dollar bill, y'all. Here's hoping this show gets off the ground.Scotthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04134217587032952825noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13060803.post-12023178499566653462008-10-06T13:16:00.003-04:002008-10-06T13:27:00.878-04:00New Show - Stones In His PocketsThe premise - 2 actors playing 13 characters, most of them Irish, 2 of them women. 2 acts. Not a small play. A few weeks of rehearsals and then a solid weeks worth of shows. While my girlfriend is preparing to leave for two months on her own acting odyssey. <br /><br />OK, I'm a little nervous. Put this together with the fact that we had some issues with the casting initially, and you have a rocky beginning to the process. We initially had someone else all set to play opposite me, but he had to drop out, so we had to do a few days of casting, and it was tough finding anybody who was up to snuff. Luckily we found the guy we did, as I think he will bring up the level of funny from my semi-ha-ha to rollicking rofl levels. <br /><br />We do our first read-through tonight. I've been listening to dialect instruction CD's and Irish podcasts, hoping to absorb the accent. Scottish is dead easy, and English I've been doing since I was a little boy, but Irish is tough to do without sounding like an Irish Spring Commercial reject, or a refugee from a Lucky Charms factory. <br /><br />I took this job specifically because I knew that it would challenge me, and so it has, already. I just want to make something beautiful and funny and fun. <br /><br />I'll be writing impressions (hopefully more cogent than the above) of the rehearsal process as often as I can. Talk to you soon.Scotthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04134217587032952825noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13060803.post-15067301752711234802008-05-13T16:12:00.004-04:002008-05-14T13:16:03.933-04:00What I learned from blogging (almost) every day.I thought I'd write a longer post to talk about what I've learned from writing (semi-) regularly on my other blog: <a href="http://foureveryday.blogspot.com">Four Every Day</a>. It's been an interesting experiment, and there are are a few interesting lessons that have come up.<br /><br /><strong>1. Blogs are not comics</strong><br /><br />This may seem obvious, but a blog diary, no matter the constraints you put on it, will never be the written equivalent of a webcomic diary. I started Four Every Day as a response to the awesome comic <a href="http://www.americanelf.com">American Elf</a> by James Kochalka. I loved the simplicity of it, the everyday-ness of it (in the sense of it being both daily and ordinary). The form of a slightly surreal diary thing, constrained into simplicity and a relative minimum of verbiage, really appealed to me. But, you know what, I really can't draw. Just not my strong suit. This has always bothered me, but I decided to really just constrain myself in other ways, and see what came out. Unfortunately, even though the four sentences thing is pretty interesting, as an exercise, it's just not as cool as comics. Comics have specificity. Writing can have it, but comics have it almost by definition. It's inherent. If you draw something from your life, it will have to be concrete. It will have space and weight and location and, unless you are drawing, say, concentric jagged lines or something to represent anger or whatever, it will be a drawing of something, and it will be somewhere (even if it is only in a blank space on the page). Comics are real pictures even if they aren't of real things. And that makes them cool. <br /><br />So, the point is: I need to get out of my head.<br /><br />This leads to my second point:<br /><br /><strong>2. Specificity!!</strong><br /><br />I noticed that the best posts (oh, you think I don't read them obsessively. Yes I do!) are posts that take place someplace: the subway, my house, a particular street. The posts I've enjoyed the most have a specificity of place and action - somebody speaks, somebody does something. It's so easy to get all abstract and up in my head, and this form really brings out the disconnect between reality and my brain.<br /><br />Good comics are almost of necessity specific. Good writing should be, too. I am discovering that I still need a lot of work there. <br /><br />Point: try to write as if everything weren't happening in a vacuum. Names, places, weather, light, heat, sounds, smells - make it happen in four sentence.<br /><br /><strong>3. (Almost) Nobody Cares That You Have a Blog</strong><br /><br />Blogs and webcomics differ in this aspect as well: There are very few people who will actively read your blog when you write about your mundane little life. This may be because I'm still learning the craft of writing, or it maybe that I don't "promote" as much, but truth to tell, I'm not sure that it matters. I read numerous webcomics - one's that I've found through other blogs, other webcomics that have links on webcomics that I like. Some of these guys sell advertisements, some sell t-shirts. Almost nobody does it full time, but most of these guys talk about going to the conventions or doing a signing, selling merchandise, and I think that's great. Most of them are supremely talented. <br /><br />You can't really do the same on a personal diary blog. You have to be willing to talk about issues in which your readers are interested, and almost no one cares about you. Or me, for that matter. I'm sure there are people who aren't my friends who's blogs I read, but I couldn't name any off of the top of my head, and the reverse is true - I'm pretty sure that only a few random friends read my blogs. That's OK.<br /><br />Some people might make money from blogging, but as far as I can tell, I'm not one of them. As much as it pains me to admit, I have an enormous ego, and there was a part of me (ruthlessly supressed but still present) that wanted folk to be beating a path to my door. Maybe I expected hundreds of views, and a summons from the Great Blog Gods to take my place at the table of bounty and book deals. "Come," they would say, "good and faithful blogger. We have prepared a place for you, and no one will ever question your l33t blogging skillz again." Yeah, I'm a tool. I mean, not that I really expected it, but I sorta did, a little.<br /><br /><strong>4. Everyday isn't easy</strong><br /><br />If you're the kind to do the math, you'll notice that I have done fewer blog posts than there have been days. To put it kindly, I have not written 4 every day. To be exact, I am 55 off of my goal. So I missed, since December 10th, 2007, almost 2 months. That is just piss-poor. Yes, I must learn to be more kind to myself, I must not allow my perfectionism to diminish my goals, etc. But come on! Come on! Two months? Come on! I didn't think it was that many so I went and counted. I maybe off slightly in my count, but as I read it, I missed:<br /><br />2 days in December<br />2 days in January<br />14 days in February<br />19 days in March<br />13 days in April<br />7 days in May (so far)<br /><br />(the disrepancy occurs because there were a couple of days I posted more than once per day). Still, I think I'll put off saying if the experiment is a success until I've posted everyday for, say, 90 days. That seems reasonable.Scotthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04134217587032952825noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13060803.post-92190857309754256272008-04-11T11:07:00.001-04:002008-04-11T11:09:05.390-04:00Things that I thought I had just thought of, but which after a quick google search, turned out to be pretty unoriginal:Neckbeard the Pirate.Scotthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04134217587032952825noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13060803.post-54732259383969952742008-04-01T09:21:00.003-04:002008-04-01T09:27:46.257-04:00As above, so below. As within, so without<blockquote>Passing a bunch of men unloading stuff from a large moving van, I remembered reading a list somewhere that of the ten most stressful events in life, moving house was near the top-- right up there with death and divorce. For the first time it struck me how most every time you see people moving in or out of a place, you're witnessing a paradigm event in their lives. Beginnings and endings. Great happiness or anticipation ("We're moving to Rio!"), or at the other end of the scale failure and fear of a future they never anticipated but has now arrived. I'm thinking about all those people in the US who are losing their homes because of the mortgage crisis. When we see a moving van or hear someone is giving up their flat we usually shrug or ignore it. But the reality is in one way or the other, it is proof that lives are about to change profoundly. You've experienced it yourself whenever you've moved. Almost every van we see represents some kind of intense human drama.</blockquote> - from Jonathan Carroll's blog<br /><br />Whatever you've got going on in your life will become manifest in the world when you move. If your internal life is orderly and well tended, your move will express that. It's never easy, but it won't be as hard.<br /><br />But if you've neglected your life, put things off, tried to kill your best impulses and avoided making hard decisions about what to keep and what to discard, it will be so much more difficult that you can imagine. Karma always comes back.<br /><br />That's what I learned in March.Scotthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04134217587032952825noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13060803.post-47864196530125143192008-03-11T09:06:00.003-04:002008-03-11T09:23:58.546-04:00Lovecraft in Brooklyn - by the Mountain GoatsGonna be too hot to breathe today<br />But everybody is out here on the streets<br />Somebody has opened up the fire hydrant<br />Cold water rushing out in sheets<br /><br />Some kid in a Marcus Allen jersey<br />Asks me for a cigarette <br />Companionship is where you find it<br />So I take what I can get<br /><br />Hubcaps on the cars like fun house mirrors<br />Stick to the shadows when I can<br /><br />Lovecraft in Brooklyn<br /><br />Well the sun goes down<br />The armies of the voiceless<br />Several hundred-thousand strong<br />Come without their bandages<br />Their voices raised in song<br /><br />When the street lights sputter out<br />They make this awful sizzling sound<br />I cast my gaze towards the pavement<br />Too many blood stains on the ground<br /><br />Rhode Island drops into the ocean<br />No place to call home anymore<br /><br />Lovecraft in Brooklyn<br /><br />Head outside most everyday to try to keep the wolves away<br />Imagine nice things I might say, if company should come<br /><br />Woke up afraid of my own shadow<br />Like, genuinely afraid<br />Headed for the pawnshop<br />To buy myself a switchblade<br />Someday something's coming<br />From way out beyond the stars<br />To kill us while we stand here<br />It will store our brains in mason jars<br />And then the girl behind the counter <br />She asks me how I feel today.<br /><br />I feel like Lovecraft in Brooklyn.<br /><br />---------------------------------------------<br /><br />(cf. <a href="http://www.dagonbytes.com/thelibrary/lovecraft/thehorroratredhook.htm">The Horror at Red Hook</a> and <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lovecraft#Marriage_and_New_York">this</a>.)Scotthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04134217587032952825noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13060803.post-10952085600548996322008-02-15T11:38:00.000-05:002008-02-15T11:39:47.823-05:00Muscle'n Flo - by MenomenaOh in the morning<br />I stumble<br />my way towards<br />the mirror and my makeup<br />it's light out<br />and I now<br />face just what I'm made of<br /><br />There's so much more<br />left to do<br />Well I'm not young<br />But I'm not through<br /><br />Oh in the evening<br />I stumble<br />my way towards another day<br />we struggle<br />it's dark out<br />it's time now<br />that I pick up my hustle<br /><br />Make a call<br />make some cash<br />make your mark<br />make it last<br />tiny scores<br />tiny rooms<br />lofty goals<br />met too soon<br />too soon<br /><br />Well here I stand<br />a broken man<br />If I could I would raise my hands<br />I come before you humbly<br />If I could I'd be on my knees<br /><br />Come lay down your head upon my chest<br />feel my heart beat feel my unrest<br />If Jesus could only wash my feet<br />Then I'd get up strong and muscle on<br />Oh in the morning<br />I stumble<br />my way towards<br />the mirror and my makeup<br />it's light out<br />and I now<br />face just what I'm made of<br /><br />There's so much more<br />left to do<br />Well I'm not young<br />But I'm not through<br /><br />tiny scores<br />tiny rooms<br />lofty goals<br />met too soonScotthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04134217587032952825noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13060803.post-63001137886562509892008-01-31T09:55:00.000-05:002008-01-31T10:03:44.660-05:00Love, Love, Love - by the Mountain GoatsKing Saul fell on his sword when it all went wrong<br />And Joseph's brothers sold him down the river for a song<br />Sonny Liston rubbed some Tiger Balm into his glove<br />Some things you do for money<br />And some you do for love, love, love<br /><br />Raskalnikov felt sick but he couldn't say why<br />When he saw his face reflected in his victim's twinkling eye<br />Some things you do for money<br />And some you do for fun<br />But the things you do for love are gonna come back to you one by one<br /><br />Love love is gonna lead you by the hand<br />into a white and soundless place<br />Now we see things as in a mirror darkly<br />Then we shall see each other face to face<br /><br />Somewhere in Seattle, young Kurt Cobain<br />Snuck out to the greenhouse put a bullet in his brain<br />snakes in the grass beneath our feet, rain in the clouds above<br />some moments last forever, but some flare up with love, love, loveScotthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04134217587032952825noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13060803.post-8816047291896181952008-01-16T13:08:00.000-05:002008-01-16T13:17:35.543-05:00I will f-ing get through Ulysses this timeI mean it. Damnnit.<br /><br />The only time I've been able to get further than 90 pages into this book was in college once when going up on acid. I managed to read a good hundred pages, but I just found I couldn't maintain interest after the sparkle faded from the universe. <br /><br />Well, I found an awesome service, which I will recommend to my fellow cubemates. Please to follow the link to <a href="http://www.dailylit.com">the Daily Lit Website</a>. There you will find a great number of books, most of them free, which they will be kind enough to send to you in daily installments to your email account or blog-reader. I found Ulysses (320 some segments! - I'll finish it around the end of the year, I guess) and also Don Quixote. I am a bit leery of reading public domain translations, but what the hell, right? This is a prime example of "chunking" a large task into smaller tasks and doing each of those as you go. <br /><br />I guess I'm adding "Ulysses" to my list of things to do in 2008. Wish they had "Finnegan's Wake", though.Scotthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04134217587032952825noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13060803.post-34915881441236943742008-01-08T13:36:00.000-05:002008-01-08T13:43:28.023-05:00Actors are important?Great post over here at <a href="http://parabasis.typepad.com/blog/2008/01/the-necessity-o.html">Isaac Butler's blog</a> about the importance of actors and how training may have a place outside academia. <br /><br />And it's not just great for his agreeing with me about the primacy of actors and audiences to the playmaking process.<br /><br />It's part of a series of posts on <a href="http://parabasis.typepad.com">his blog</a> that I'm still digesting, and I'll probably have something to say about it later. That is all.Scotthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04134217587032952825noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13060803.post-91056906682019871152008-01-04T15:34:00.000-05:002008-01-04T15:38:00.904-05:00addendum - goals for 2008I've also decided I will participate in National Novel Writing Month. Cuz I'm crazy. That'll be in November. If you happen to see me that month, please ask, in a high pitched, rising intonation, "Yeah? How's that book coming? Hmmm? Got an outline written? Hmmm? Maybe a main character? Coupla themes, hmmmm?" That'll be awesome.<br /><br />So, who wants to do this with me?Scotthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04134217587032952825noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13060803.post-50713719224031804402008-01-04T10:03:00.001-05:002008-01-04T10:07:27.576-05:00Obama won in IowaIt is interesting to note that second place John Edwards recieved 30% of the votes for a total of 716. To put that in perspective, second place Republican Mitt "I get my own planet when I die" Romney recieved 23,682. Anybody who thinks Obama's (or any even relatively progressive candidate) got it locked should rethink that.<br /><br />--------------------------------------------<br /><br />It is a testament to my father's love of this country that no President in his lifetime has been worthy of governing it.Scotthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04134217587032952825noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13060803.post-20394047281160167992008-01-03T16:15:00.001-05:002008-01-03T16:43:41.361-05:00goals for 2008I almost titled this post "well, kids, what have we learned?" but..., ugh.<br /><br />So, looking forward. Stuff to do.<br /><br />- I am moving the fuck out of Kew Gardens. Yes. I. Am.<br />- I really want to do a comic book/graphic novel/comic strip. I have awesome, ridiculous scripts filled chock-a-block with obscure, esoteric references, excessive verbiage, and ludicrous plotlines. Artists! Call me! Seriously! <br />- regardless if the pathetic plea of the previous bullet point gets a response, I will write another comic script.<br />- I will work with some new people in the theatre (not that I don't love my previous collaborators, but I want new blood!). Steps have been taken and results already achieved: watch this space for details.<br />- I will be more social. I fell off the world last year, mostly out of a sense of guilt. I like to think I've flagellated myself enough for one decade. So that's enough of that. I want to be amongst friends! I like people and I want them to know it!<br />- I will continue writing the hell out of my new blog/project <a href="http://foureveryday.blogspot.com">Four Every Day</a>. I don't know what it means, but it feels significant. So I'ma gonna do it some more.<br /><br />That's all. Are those resolutions? whatever. I'm also gonna look at things with "soft eyes" (stole that from The Wire). I'm choosing to use it to mean looking at things without trying to figure them out quite so much, without trying to see only what I want to see.<br /><br />In some ways I lost a lot of ground last year, but I feel like I was really destroying the village to save it. I want to build things on a firm foundation, not just what I think I should be. I hurt a lot of people last year, too, and I hope to have learned from that to be honest in the first place, and not just when I've run out of options.<br /><br />The theme last year was "I am gonna make it through this year if it kills me". I guess life is what happens after you think it's all over. I hope you have a wonderful year, full of love and happiness, and I really wish you well. God (in whatever flavor you happen to favor) bless.Scotthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04134217587032952825noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13060803.post-67102286734183140072007-12-18T12:10:00.000-05:002007-12-18T12:12:58.796-05:00Should I tell?I've been keeping my new blog address secret, but I'm sort of starting to be proud of it. It's a little wonky and silly, and nothing much really happens, but it sure sounds like my life, so I'm gonna go with it.<br /><br />http://foureveryday.blogspot.com<br /><br />A diary, of sorts. Enjoy.<br /><br />ScottScotthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04134217587032952825noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13060803.post-58865563818320196572007-12-16T06:11:00.000-05:002007-12-16T06:15:12.972-05:00Haven't seen me for a while?<a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/peteboisvert/CarolProductionPhotos">This is where I've been hiding.</a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUvGw8oTMO8s2vYVYkca04rZputb1TAZf2Kk6EJ41jRCUH1OsSLaShuyjfnWj5djjxajaexi3SqL77GcjQf9MK_z11jQHpmfibzoXoRkGdkSEGlzIk2HRRQQtS1eT-XWOZoK-zaA/s1600-h/DSC_0070.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUvGw8oTMO8s2vYVYkca04rZputb1TAZf2Kk6EJ41jRCUH1OsSLaShuyjfnWj5djjxajaexi3SqL77GcjQf9MK_z11jQHpmfibzoXoRkGdkSEGlzIk2HRRQQtS1eT-XWOZoK-zaA/s320/DSC_0070.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5144527466755288402" /></a>Scotthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04134217587032952825noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13060803.post-52631278257323365462007-12-14T13:46:00.000-05:002007-12-14T13:49:59.575-05:00Bad Hair DayThere’s no real way of knowing what might make for a “bad” day on the stage. You might not have had enough sleep. Or too much. Or just the right amount. There may be something going on in your life that screws your concentration. You might get some news right before going on stage, or maybe there’s some someone in the audience you’re particularly eager to impress. Maybe you’ve had a few days off. Or maybe the tides are wrong, or the phase of the moon. Whatever it is, you feel it. And you speak the lines and hit your marks and yet you can feel a part of you is somewhere else, watching you. “Ah, you’re not really here, are you?” says this part. And this part is correct, you’re not here, but you just have to keep going, because people paid to see this, and theatre only goes in one direction.<br /><br />And you have about as much control over this as the days that you have a bad hair day. You smile, and style, and tell yourself that maybe people aren’t paying too close attention tonight, and you use your best techniques (because that is, after all, all you have to fall back on), and hope.<br /><br />This is where (at this point, still based on an incomplete reading) Grotowski’s theories and my experiences converge. There is a trance that one must achieve (that is the word that Grotowski uses, and I think it is apt) in order to allow a character to speak, to move, to “live and breathe”. Voudon practitioners, when they achieve union with whatever God they happen to be invoking, call the experience being “ridden”. The God “rides” the priest, the priestess, speaks through him or her to the gathered tribe, the community at large, and offers advice, instruction. Maybe the God stirs up the pot for his own amusement, maybe he tries to help with the crisis of the moment. The village, the community, offers what it has in trade: food, drink, tobacco, women, boys. <br /><br />Roberto Calasso speaks of encounters with the divine in a similar way, but he uses the term “rape”. A much harsher word, but none the less accurate, bringing as it does the innuendo of the Voudon term to the fore. All encounters with the divine have an aura of compulsion, beginning as they do with the overpowering brightness of the divine and the grudging assent of the ego, and ending in the (to the ego) horrifying dissolving of barriers and complete immersion. “Good fences make good neighbors” says the ego, and the divine sweeps down laughing like a storm and wrecks the fences, tears up the stones, leaves the land disheveled and ravished, the ego reeling from the blow.<br /><br />In Grotowski, he speaks of a humility, a “holiness” that is not the “doing” of an action, but a removal of barriers of not doing. A subtractive discipline, that allows the character to speak through one by the dissolving of the restrictions on action and voice and movement, that gives the slightest impulse immediate expression. This may be why he speaks of an ascetic aesthetic (to coin a ridiculous phrase). There is a monastic quality to the whole thing that stems from negation. Negation of the “self” in service to the character. Negation of the habitual constrictions of muscle armor and ways of speaking and breathing. When the ego sees these things disappearing, since death, non-existence, above all, is the terror of the ego, it freaks out. <br /><br />I remember during my days at school, no classes were more fraught with emotional breakdowns and freakouts than the voice and speech classes. Inevitably, as people were forced to confront and attempt to change their speaking patterns and their muscular tensions, someone would completely meltdown. Crying, shaking, hysterical (I must admit to a few breakdowns of my own in that class. In a side note, my voice and speech teacher also inspired a huge crush when I was in school, which I figure is also only appropriate. Transference and all that…).<br /><br />This would seem to be why acting was so closely aligned to the sacred in Greece, and why the church always frowned upon it. There was something unwholesome about these people, these actors, going into their trance. Something <em>unhealthy</em> about those who were not themselves for a good portion of their day. Almost like prostitution, the way they opened themselves and let the “other” live through them, and all for a few coins. In a world that prizes the hard edged, the clearly defined, the actor seems altogether too… squishy. Too easily penetrated. This may also explain the homosexual panic that many people seem to have when they encounter male actors, as well. And why the actors that we love the most are the movie star celebrities, the ones that play only themselves, over and over and over.<br /><br />So, basically what I’m saying with all of the above, was that I was off last night. I was thinking about how fucked my life was and I lost my edge. When it’s there, though, that brilliant edge of concentration is really something to feel. It makes the bad hair days worth it, I’m telling you.Scotthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04134217587032952825noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13060803.post-17102100368840507002007-12-13T14:47:00.000-05:002007-12-13T14:52:59.053-05:00Towards a Poor (and miserable) TheatreOn the recommendations of a friend I worked with at Cortland Repertory Theatre this summer, I bought a copy of Jerzy Grotowski’s <em>Towards a Poor Theatre</em>, from which I realized I stole some, if not all of my ideas for my last post. I’ve been reading it with some interest.<br /><br />So, not one to let close reading or analysis stand in the way of putting my foot in my mouth, here are some initial thoughts.<br /><br />It sure seems dour. This is theatre of the hairshirt and the flail. He constantly speaks of a “holy theatre” that requires sacrifice and self-immolation (that phrase “self-immolation” may actually be a quote. Can’t be bothered to look it up right now). A digging into the psyche and laying bare of the roots of action and emotion. My God. How many more times do we have to go through this? Perhaps, as so often happens with gurus (and especially acting gurus) there is a slight disconnect between the technique and the practice, but it sure sounds like he is a patriarch daddy-type who practices psychology without a license, putting his actors through the wringer in an effort to wrest great performances out of them. I have had teachers like this and I find them reprehensible. If Grotowski is of that stripe, I have no use for this technique of his. Good DAY, sir!<br /><br />Well, this may be my own daddy-complex (often wounded by imperfect men and women who have experimented on me in their well-intentioned attempts to “mould” me) complaining. He may have aught to teach me, so I will keep reading, but I read with a skepticism that I did not possess when I was younger.<br /><br />I have read about the great British actors, Olivier, Gielgud, and Guinness for example, and they had no recourse to such techniques, no need to put themselves through such fresh hell with every performance. The texts were tough enough, the physical demands plenty to engage and leave them worn out and frazzled. Perhaps that is what Grotowski speaks of, that the great Brits did unconsciously. Perhaps what helps to make the greats great is an emptying out. An engagement with the audience, with their fellow actors, and with the material that exhausts the mind and body, leaving a certain purity to shine through.<br /><br />Regardless, when I was a Christian (or rather, when I was religious-mad), I would have taken to Grotowski’s theories like a drowning man takes to water. I loved the idea of sacrificing myself. I was all about that, and especially for art, love, “God”, or whatever. Now, I look on theories like this one with a certain distaste.<br /><br />One of the things I love about theatre is that it is fun. Not fun in the sense of “Ha-ha, ho-ho, hee-hee, aren’t we having a wonderful time.” Fun in the sense of play, a concentrated engagement with the subject at hand that allows one to push oneself to the fullest. The way children play. Not forced, not straining and painful and “intense” but fun! I wouldn’t do it if it wasn’t fun.<br /><br />Now, I know that, in many of the circles I run with, when I’m at work, I tend to be the less-fun guy. When everybody is getting goofy, starting to get slappy, I am the one saying “C’mon, guys, let’s just get through this!” Yeah, I’m that guy. Always have been. So when I say I’m having fun in theatre, to me that means doing the work as best I can, and being totally engaged and trying to become more than I am right now. Always striving. Even the failures and mistakes and wrong turns are part of the fun, for me. Everything else is just sorta distraction.<br /><br />So perhaps there is something to the Grotowski fellow’s theories. I’ll keep reading and find out, but truthfully, what I’m looking for is something that treats the process, not as pain and suffering, but as play. It can be painful, of course, in much the same way that an athlete is in pain when he pushes himself in training, but pain is not the same as hurt, i.e. aches are not injuries, and hitting the wall and going on is not the same as vomiting up blood. Acting should not be an assault on the psyche of the actor. We’re not strip-mining. We’re panning. The river will bring us what we need.Scotthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04134217587032952825noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13060803.post-91974978084774624402007-12-12T22:11:00.000-05:002007-12-12T22:12:33.490-05:00but is it art?Based on a discussion I had with Patrick the other day, I thought I should post this. I’m not under any illusions that I’m widely read (unlike some of the folks that I’ll be discussing in this post), but I thought I’d put in my two cents.<br /><br />I was perusing my list of theatre blogs on bloglines, and a thought struck me. Of the theatre blogs I read on a regular basis, there were none by actors. Directors, yes. Playwrights, yes. No actors.<br /><br />Now this got me thinking yet further. The discussion on most of the blogs often revolves around what makes for good theatre. A recent discussion, for example, had folks from all over the New York scene weighing in on the relative merits of “production values” and what the term meant. It was an interesting discussion, to be sure, and one near and dear to my heart. A lot of times, people will be talking about theatre’s place in society, declining audiences, relevancy to other media, etc. And sometimes the question is as simple as: what is theatre, really?<br /><br />Well, what is it? A friend of mine recently expressed interest in getting involved in the extensive performance poetry scene in New York, and asked me to sort of introduce him to some of the better venues and groups working in them. I’ve had some experience with these groups, and I knew some of the folks pretty well, so of course I agreed. The angle of the performance of poetry interested me pretty intensely for a while a few years back, but I found I didn’t cotton to it as much as I enjoyed traditional theatre. But if you really think about it, aside from the conventions (verse instead of “natural” speech (though not always!), physicality based on gesture rather than full expression with the body (again, not always!), roots in hip-hop and its culture) what’s performance poetry but a different kind of theatre? At its essence, it’s a person using their voice and body to tell a story.<br /><br />Is anything else necessary? Not costumes, not lights, not microphones, not sets, not pre-written, naturalistic (or otherwise) texts, not directors, not props, not musicians, not really even a stage. Nothing but someone with an audience telling a story using their voice and body.<br /><br />The voice distinguishes it from dance, the body distinguishes it from radio. Other than that, it’s fair game. Anything else is convention. That gives a lot of leeway. TV shows and movies could be considered a subset of theatre, since the story is told using broadcast images of people telling stories. Animation could (I suppose) also be considered a subset, since representations of bodies are used… though one would have to argue about the more surreal elements of, say, Looney Tunes, and I don’t intend to do that here.<br /><br />Performance poetry, is, obviously under this definition, another subset. The text is verse, the gestures have their own conventions, but the story is still told (or even only evoked) by a person using their body and voice.<br /><br />I love working with directors. I love to take direction and work in collaboration with people who have differing visions than I. But under the definition I’ve posited directors are definitely non-essential. Witness the phenomenon of the “actor-manager” in British (and, I’m presuming American) theatre up until very recently.<br /><br />Playwrights (and, in fact plays as conventionally understood, as in: stage directions, so-and-so speaks, such-and-such also speaks, they are told to do things, all as words on a page) are also not essential. Which is not to say I don’t like reading plays. I LOVE reading plays. I’m just trying to peel things down to essentials, here, and by this definition, not so much.<br /><br />So that begs the question. Why is theatre being defined online by people who are, as far as I can tell, non-essential to the matter? This is also not to say that they shouldn’t. On the contrary, everyone should come up with their own definitions, and I love a good debate over ideas, even ones I agree with. But why are they the face of theatre? Where my actors at?<br /><br />Well, I talked to both Stephanie and Patrick about this matter, and they both pointed out the same thing. Most actors are not writers. That’s all. In fact, many actors I know could be considered by some definition to be functionally illiterate. And lazy.<br /><br />When I count the number of plays I’ve heard and seen ruined by an actor who couldn’t be bothered to speak the words of the play as the author wrote them, or who blazed past the meaning of the lines by completely ignoring such elementary considerations as punctuation, I’ll admit to becoming a little steamed.<br /><br />Well, I can write (somewhat), and I can read (a bit), and so I guess I’m gonna write a little about that.Scotthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04134217587032952825noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13060803.post-496682339879379222007-12-11T19:15:00.000-05:002007-12-11T19:33:45.271-05:00What's all this, then?Why did I start a new blog?<br /><br />Because I wasn't posting here, and sometimes it takes a new enterprise to reinvigorate my enthusiasm for a form.<br /><br />Because I was reading <a href="http://www.americanelf.com/">this</a> compulsively at work and thought, "Man, that looks like fun, but I can't draw."<br /><br />Because I'm thinking that, if I do it every day, I might do some posting here by accident.<br /><br />Because I know that if I have a form that is constrained, I will inevitably think of things that don't fit in the form, and then I'll write them here, and that will be nice.<br /><br />Because I think I'm just crazy enough to do something ridiculous and have it work out OK.<br /><br />Because <a href="http://www.lastplanetojakarta.com/">some people</a> have more than one creative outlet, and <a href="http://www.johndarnielle.com/">some of them</a> end up being kind of interesting.<br /><br />Because little steps are just as valid as big steps.<br /><br />Because I wanted to notice and appreciate things more.<br /><br />Because in noticing and appreciating things more, I hope to become more grateful for my life, and therefore more in love with it.<br /><br />Because I am trying to save my life from time, but I am restricted by my own laziness and so therefore must make arbitrary games in order to trick myself into enlightenment.<br /><br />Because I am trying to save my life, period.<br /><br />Because I am afraid that things are going to get much, much worse before they get better.<br /><br />Because I will stem the tide of fear with humor and lighthearted-ness.<br /><br />Because I still believe that life is worth living.Scotthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04134217587032952825noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13060803.post-23864342188720725222007-08-06T16:07:00.000-04:002007-08-06T16:24:03.533-04:00Lest we forget...<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhimLJL-0xRbl2AWazjjRj-V5oC2KvdILKs2sjunRkTunPLOHAXwgfU5BawzOcdiIUp5YnM7cbtKFGArA9sbffRUfLc125sjm_NFYfVstbh2kD03jdMyCM5BQfsG5lh8eFZNzRPkQ/s1600-h/RM3.US.HIROSHIMA.MOM.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhimLJL-0xRbl2AWazjjRj-V5oC2KvdILKs2sjunRkTunPLOHAXwgfU5BawzOcdiIUp5YnM7cbtKFGArA9sbffRUfLc125sjm_NFYfVstbh2kD03jdMyCM5BQfsG5lh8eFZNzRPkQ/s320/RM3.US.HIROSHIMA.MOM.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5095681868436432418" /></a><br /><br />62 years ago today, the United States dropped an atomic bomb on the city of Hiroshima. About 105,000 people were killed in Hiroshima or died from injuries and radiation afterwards. The woman pictured above was waiting for medical attention after the bomb nick-named "Fat Man" destroyed her city. The baby, too weak to suckle, died 10 days later.<br /><br />I spent years afraid that I would get out of class, look southeast and see a mushroom cloud rising over Davis-Monthan Air Force Base. I used to spend hours pouring over maps and thinking about blast-radii and wind currents. I actually woke up one morning, in the grip of some mania I could not name, and said goodbye to everyone I knew, convinced that today, out of a clear blue sky, today the bombs would fall.<br /><br />The fact that this failed to happen has not reduced my fear by much. We still live beneath the shadows of terrible wings. The world must destroy all nuclear weapons, though this may be a sad exemplar of Pandora's Box. <br /><br />At least we should remember those who have already died as a result of these weapons, and pray to whatever Gods you please to save us from the flames.Scotthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04134217587032952825noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13060803.post-11791045346682448542007-08-04T11:47:00.000-04:002007-08-04T11:48:33.607-04:00Peanuts, by Charles BukowskiHoly God, <a href="http://www.progressiveboink.com/archive/peanuts-by-charles-bukowski/">this</a> is fucking genius.Scotthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04134217587032952825noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13060803.post-70913717371128469752007-08-02T17:01:00.001-04:002007-08-02T17:01:59.446-04:00Who is it that you say I am?<table width=350 align=center border=0 cellspacing=0 cellpadding=2><tr><td bgcolor="#CCCCCC" align=center><font face="Georgia, Times New Roman, Times, serif" style='color:black; font-size: 14pt;'><b>You Are The Chariot</b></font></td></tr><tr><td bgcolor="#DDDDDD"><center><img src="http://images.blogthings.com/whattarotcardareyouquiz/chariot.jpg" height="100" width="100"></center><font color="#000000"><br />You represent a difficult battle, and a well-deserved victory.<br />You tend to struggle to get what you want, both internally and externally.<br />You excel at controlling opposing forces, getting down the same path.<br />In the end, you bring glory and success - using pure will to move forward.<br /><br />Your fortune: <br /><br />There is great conflict in your life right now, either with yourself or others.<br />You must find a solution to this conflict, which is likely to be a "middle road" between the two forces.<br />You posses the skills to triumph over these struggles, as long as your will is strong.<br />You are transforming your inner self, building a better foundation for future successes.</font></td></tr></table><div align="center"><a href="http://www.blogthings.com/whattarotcardareyouquiz/">What Tarot Card Are You?</a></div>Scotthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04134217587032952825noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13060803.post-77330883912117539342007-07-26T12:31:00.000-04:002007-07-26T12:32:42.798-04:00best new song (of the moment)This is goodbooks, and this song makes me cry.<br /><br />'Course, I cry at phone commercials, so don't take my word for it. This just rocks.<br /><br /><object width="425" height="350"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/n-5cApzDUXQ"></param><param name="wmode" value="transparent"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/n-5cApzDUXQ" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" width="425" height="350"></embed></object>Scotthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04134217587032952825noreply@blogger.com0