Thursday, January 18, 2007
workshop to rehearsal to wrap up to introduction...
Workshops. we get into a room and try to say a bunch of things and stand or sit or move about in ways that we think would be interesting to someone and then go home wondering about our choices in life.
I love my life.
Production. Running around the city worrying about the expense of the rental van and whether the favours you've gotten from friends to borrow stuff for the show will burn out those friendships. Discovering that they won't use the stuff you brought in after all. Then encountering new problems with your approach to building a stage, the colours you chose, the whole idea of the thing...
I hate my life.
Meeting with the last group I worked with -- genuine warmth and companionship, an appreciation of each other's efforts, an eagerness to do it again, and better.
Meeting the next group you will be working with. Smiles, fresh thoughts, a whole new approach and stimulating set of possibilities. Unexpected perspectives and good energy.
I love my life.
Back home to write invoices, grant applications, re-jig schedules, juggle budgets.
I ... hate ... ...hating.
... but that seems a remarkably easy thing to walk away from, in this case.
Saturday, January 13, 2007
late night streetcar ride
That's us the other night, coming home from - something I can't remember.
I'm name-blanking quite a lot these days. It's not always so bad - when you blank on someone on the street, and they blank on you, there is a kind of openess and forgiveness, and probably an increased friendliness about the encounter. After all, you have something in common: you've both forgotten the other's name. Hurray, a bonding moment.
That's the exception. The thing about working within an industry of freelancers is that, even in a large city, your range of contacts is its own small town. With all that implies. Misunderstandings, frequent re-introductions to acquaintances, polite ellipses in conversation to avoid discussing the show that X was in at which Y fell asleep, or the common lover you both had back in 2000.
But somethings I don't forget. Like the loosening feeling of relief when you're rolling home on the streetcar, just awake enough to watch for your stop, still warm from a party, with your baby snoozing on you.
Thursday, January 11, 2007
the charms of anonymity
This is a sneak peak of the show I've been working on, Connect The Dots, that runs TWO NIGHTS ONLY - friday and saturday Jan. 12-13th, 2007, in the Cabaret at Buddies in Bad Times Theatre.
They are playing Avatars - in this case, faceless voices in an internet chatroom - so they could say anything. Anonymity makes all sorts of things possible. Unfortunately, when we have opportunities to be anonymous, we rarely do interesting things with it -- who's got the time, right?
And anyway, maybe anonymity is actually the norm in our society, and the charms of new forms of anonymous behaviour available on things like the internet are mostly lost on us. Unless you're a predator, or in marketing, or something.
Tuesday, January 02, 2007
leaving the family
So far this winter I have lived through about 4 hours of snow, most of that time in a car driving the highways from Arnprior to Brockville. Then we left the whiteness behind and we've been wondering if there will be any more this year. Someone said to me with a chuckle, "Oh, we're gonna pay for it later..." - which usually means a wicked cold snap is coming. I wonder, though, if the payment this year is going to be a low water table and drought this spring.
Running between rehearsals for Connect The Dots, preproduction for The Sheep and the Whale, and building Aluna. Second day of the year and we've jumped into things at a cracking pace.