My return to New York this fall brought with it a new housing situation: I am residing in an international abode, with about 500 other students from 94 different countries, studying everything from opera to peace teaching to organizational sociology. Dinner this evening consisted of steak fajitas and conversation about interntional criminal justice with a Belgian. This afternoon I said hello to a resident from Ghana on my way to check my mail, and earlier this morning I read the paper next to two musicians from Germany. I live down the hall from a structural engineer, a classical singer, and a German banker.
Life is good.
The house itself is complete with a fitness facility, dining hall and staffed kitchen, music practice rooms, commons rooms, library, gymnasium, parlors, auditorium, a rooftop terrace, a private park, furnished bedrooms, wi-fi, and a pub. It's rather easy to find something to do on a rainy Sunday afternoon.
The history of the house itself dates back to the 1920s, when Harry Edmunds met a lonely Chinese student on the steps of the Columbia Library and invited him to supper. Thus began a simple tradition which blossomed into a global community: one supper turned into many suppers, and one guest turned into nearly 500. The venue shifted from a single house to a Rockefeller-sponsored mansion, and yet the tradition continues on Sundays as per usual.
Being among so many professionals (the average age is 27 - taken from a range of 21-52), and experiencing how many different ways of living and learning are possible gives me hope for my own path. The feeling is one of being in the "right place at the right time"....
I recently attended a Community Weekend, at a camp north of Manhattan, and there were about 40 of us for an overnight stay. Bonfires, boating, team-building (ropes course), and games galore. It was encouraging to see and hear how everyone was eager to meet one another, to engage in a meaningful dialogue about who they were and where they were from, and make a new friend...or forty. No sense of timidity or closed-off behavior - these were people who take to heart the idea that life is an adventure, and to approach it with open arms.
My only disappointment is that I cannot spend more time inside the house, getting to know everyone - alas, my school schedule keeps me busy to the hilt, and with the recent addition of being cast in the Fall production (yay!) I don't expect to have a lot of free socializing time until later in the semester. There are a whole host of programs that will boggle the mind: language exchanges, community mentorships, jazz evenings, open mic nights, dance classes, intramurals, study groups, and field trips galore! Living here could be someone's full-time job.
Yet, I'm looking forward to this coming Sunday, which will mark the 100th anniversary of the supper tradition. (Again, right place, right time....)
The guest speaker is an environmental journalist from the New York Times - so I'm brushing up on my nature news.
Truth be told, I'll probably just go down to the 3rd floor and ask one of the Australian residents to get me up to speed over some coffee tomorrow....
Monday, September 28, 2009
Thursday, July 2, 2009
Finding the Story
Our family vacation in Disney World: Mom's birthday landed on the last day of our park admission, and we lucked out with 36 Fast Passes, resulting in a terrific whirlwind of efficient ride-activity. The sun held for most of the day, and cloud cover during the evening was a welcome relief after a day of meandering around the Magical Kingdom.
I couldn't help but notice, on our third go-round of Splash Mountain, that each ride told a very succinct story, and in the most concise and entertaining way possible. Splash Mountain, in particular, tells the story of Brer Rabbit's escape from the hungry grasp of Brer Fox and his dopey sidekick, Brer Bear. Brer Rabbit and his escape from Brer Fox: only the essential story bits were created in an underground waterway, with little songs and scene settings to complete the theatricality of the storytelling.
But in the short three minutes before the big drop-down under the briar patch, each rider became Brer Rabbit, and shared in the thrill of the escape from Brer Fox's clutches. Each corner was like a chapter in the story: first you entered his world, with singing pelicans and doo-wopping frogs; next came the villains (Fox and Bear) and their plans to catch themselves some dinner; two more corners and you watched Rabbit escape a tar pit and get tangled up in honeybee nests; the final corner revealed Rabbit, captured and hanging over Fox's cauldron.
As you ascended the rickety water tracks to the final drop, vultures overhead proclaimed eventual doom. The last thing you hear before the surprise of a stomach-jumping descent is Brer Rabbit begging Brer Fox not to toss him into the briar patch - at the same very instant you catch sight of the tangle of plastic thorns ahead of you. You can't help but scream when the drop happens - either the drop itself or the fact that you might hit the thorny mess will do you in. Afterwards, you turn the final corner and a large animal-laden showboat greets Brer Rabbit (you) home to the land of zippi-dee-doo-dah.
Our third time on the ride, my brother leaned over and asked a story-related question. I realized that the whole story was laid out in such a way through the ride that even someone unfamiliar with the whole plot can follow the tale quite easily. His question had to do with what Disney cartoon the story was based on - and I realized that still-unknown Disney stories exist for audiences to discover for years to come. However, the Imagineers have got it figured out. Who, what, where, when, why - the essential and only components you really need to create magic anywhere.
I couldn't help but notice, on our third go-round of Splash Mountain, that each ride told a very succinct story, and in the most concise and entertaining way possible. Splash Mountain, in particular, tells the story of Brer Rabbit's escape from the hungry grasp of Brer Fox and his dopey sidekick, Brer Bear. Brer Rabbit and his escape from Brer Fox: only the essential story bits were created in an underground waterway, with little songs and scene settings to complete the theatricality of the storytelling.
But in the short three minutes before the big drop-down under the briar patch, each rider became Brer Rabbit, and shared in the thrill of the escape from Brer Fox's clutches. Each corner was like a chapter in the story: first you entered his world, with singing pelicans and doo-wopping frogs; next came the villains (Fox and Bear) and their plans to catch themselves some dinner; two more corners and you watched Rabbit escape a tar pit and get tangled up in honeybee nests; the final corner revealed Rabbit, captured and hanging over Fox's cauldron.
As you ascended the rickety water tracks to the final drop, vultures overhead proclaimed eventual doom. The last thing you hear before the surprise of a stomach-jumping descent is Brer Rabbit begging Brer Fox not to toss him into the briar patch - at the same very instant you catch sight of the tangle of plastic thorns ahead of you. You can't help but scream when the drop happens - either the drop itself or the fact that you might hit the thorny mess will do you in. Afterwards, you turn the final corner and a large animal-laden showboat greets Brer Rabbit (you) home to the land of zippi-dee-doo-dah.
Our third time on the ride, my brother leaned over and asked a story-related question. I realized that the whole story was laid out in such a way through the ride that even someone unfamiliar with the whole plot can follow the tale quite easily. His question had to do with what Disney cartoon the story was based on - and I realized that still-unknown Disney stories exist for audiences to discover for years to come. However, the Imagineers have got it figured out. Who, what, where, when, why - the essential and only components you really need to create magic anywhere.
Monday, May 4, 2009
Assembling the Ensemble
Our class has nearly reached the end of its first year together at the New School for Drama's graduate program. We've learned so much this year, somewhat without realizing it fully. The daily osmosis consists of a variety of theatrical information: a short history of European actors, memorizing perfect pronunciations of "str" combinations, careful selection of a well-placed word for a pivotal moment in a script, synthesizing rehearsal blocking with proper Alexander Use... we've experienced the osmosis in class, in hallway discussion, over the much-needed third glass of wine on Friday nights...our brains have picked up a new vocabulary and a new outlook on theatre and what "THEATRE" is. And somehow, we find that the year has gone by too fast, that there is so much more we need to know, and that we are developing into artists of immense potential...far beyond anything we could have imagined in our application letters.
Many of us came to school to be with like-minded individuals; students who want to create better "THEATRE", students whose colors scream potential, challenge, and big dreams. This first year has challenged us, yes. Our horizons have broadened in possibility and shrunk in terms of market reality. Our dreams have become anxious, fervent thoughts of the day, residing next to the essential craft work we have to finish that evening. We've been concentrating on building our skills individually...and in the meantime have realized that we need to build our ensemble within the Drama walls, in order to achieve that elusive THEATRE we're yearning to create in the outside world.
In the midst of all the craft work (by that I mean the individual skills of elocution, stage movement, and script analysis), our class has experienced an underlying crisis in unity of spirit. We're suddenly facing, in our last two weeks of our first year, the threat of a weak ensemble. This threat may not seem ominous if you believe that artists are their own business - in that case, ensemble is something that comes and goes with every project. However, in the spirit of creating THEATRE as we have discovered this past year, the threat looms like the rustling of leaves amidst the hunt.
Our class is divided in more than a few ways, and leveling our experiences so as to create a solid foundation is an item we have yet to tackle. The faculty has tried to create a technical foundation that we can build upon, but when your art depends on another's in such close proximity, tensions appear and questions of esprit de corps arise. We start seeing that our so-thought "like-minded" colleagues are rather inexperienced, or cannot communicate, or would rather concentrate on their own pursuits within the industry.
Creating an ensemble. There is no business manual for this task. Theatre professionals love to pretend that the theatre business is different than other businesses: really it's all venture capitalism at heart. VC work environments can be exciting and a little uncouth at times, but there are ways of succeeding. The theatre ensemble rests on many of the same tenets. There is no company; there's Broadway (consider that the IPO). If you do well, you only have so much time on the market before your idea becomes stale, or historic, and is replaced by another. You can revive, re-stage, re-finance...but the theatre is always looking for the next big thing. Creating an ensemble means creating a group that will consistently create something new and essential for the market. And finding just the right mix of talent for this requires sacrifice and blind faith in the prospect of potential IPOs.
Some artists are too afraid to lay aside their own insecure future for the insecure future of an ensemble. (Working towards your own goal is much more secure than working towards a group goal, isn't it?) Students who show up late to class, are consistently under-prepared, and don't memorize their lines give those artists seeking a strong ensemble reasonable doubt in the future of their classmates. So we've got to either throw in the towel or confront the issues which sometimes become personal. Why isn't my classmate prepared? What is s/he going to do about it? The ensemble is only as strong as the weakest link. When does it become appropriate for the person in the cubicle next to you to point out your lack of commitment to the project? Is that employee threatening the group's success?
We're having a town hall meeting this week to discuss the threats to our ensemble. Management has failed us a little bit - the teachers are not holding some students to a like-minded standard in class coursework. There are some suggested pink slips circulating, but not with enough weight to satiate the students who are shelling out $500 an hour to learn from that other student who was 20 minutes late for their scene work. Many of us are discussing our original hope: to come to graduate school to be challenged by artists of the same caliber, of the same desired potential. Like-minded individuals. Creating an ensemble. The like-minded are showing their true colors now, and it's threatening our pursuit of the IPO.
Many of us came to school to be with like-minded individuals; students who want to create better "THEATRE", students whose colors scream potential, challenge, and big dreams. This first year has challenged us, yes. Our horizons have broadened in possibility and shrunk in terms of market reality. Our dreams have become anxious, fervent thoughts of the day, residing next to the essential craft work we have to finish that evening. We've been concentrating on building our skills individually...and in the meantime have realized that we need to build our ensemble within the Drama walls, in order to achieve that elusive THEATRE we're yearning to create in the outside world.
In the midst of all the craft work (by that I mean the individual skills of elocution, stage movement, and script analysis), our class has experienced an underlying crisis in unity of spirit. We're suddenly facing, in our last two weeks of our first year, the threat of a weak ensemble. This threat may not seem ominous if you believe that artists are their own business - in that case, ensemble is something that comes and goes with every project. However, in the spirit of creating THEATRE as we have discovered this past year, the threat looms like the rustling of leaves amidst the hunt.
Our class is divided in more than a few ways, and leveling our experiences so as to create a solid foundation is an item we have yet to tackle. The faculty has tried to create a technical foundation that we can build upon, but when your art depends on another's in such close proximity, tensions appear and questions of esprit de corps arise. We start seeing that our so-thought "like-minded" colleagues are rather inexperienced, or cannot communicate, or would rather concentrate on their own pursuits within the industry.
Creating an ensemble. There is no business manual for this task. Theatre professionals love to pretend that the theatre business is different than other businesses: really it's all venture capitalism at heart. VC work environments can be exciting and a little uncouth at times, but there are ways of succeeding. The theatre ensemble rests on many of the same tenets. There is no company; there's Broadway (consider that the IPO). If you do well, you only have so much time on the market before your idea becomes stale, or historic, and is replaced by another. You can revive, re-stage, re-finance...but the theatre is always looking for the next big thing. Creating an ensemble means creating a group that will consistently create something new and essential for the market. And finding just the right mix of talent for this requires sacrifice and blind faith in the prospect of potential IPOs.
Some artists are too afraid to lay aside their own insecure future for the insecure future of an ensemble. (Working towards your own goal is much more secure than working towards a group goal, isn't it?) Students who show up late to class, are consistently under-prepared, and don't memorize their lines give those artists seeking a strong ensemble reasonable doubt in the future of their classmates. So we've got to either throw in the towel or confront the issues which sometimes become personal. Why isn't my classmate prepared? What is s/he going to do about it? The ensemble is only as strong as the weakest link. When does it become appropriate for the person in the cubicle next to you to point out your lack of commitment to the project? Is that employee threatening the group's success?
We're having a town hall meeting this week to discuss the threats to our ensemble. Management has failed us a little bit - the teachers are not holding some students to a like-minded standard in class coursework. There are some suggested pink slips circulating, but not with enough weight to satiate the students who are shelling out $500 an hour to learn from that other student who was 20 minutes late for their scene work. Many of us are discussing our original hope: to come to graduate school to be challenged by artists of the same caliber, of the same desired potential. Like-minded individuals. Creating an ensemble. The like-minded are showing their true colors now, and it's threatening our pursuit of the IPO.
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