Sometimes it’s hard to remember that the sky isn’t a giant painting…

Not a theatery post today; I’m just feeling a little introspective and reflecting on something moving.

   Sometimes it is hard to remember that the sky isn’t a giant painting. Too often I get distracted while walking outside, or worse, driving someplace on a partly cloudy day. I’ll look up and see the most breath taking skyscape you could ever imagine. I will just stare, befuddled by the atmosphere. How can these shapes, and colors, and contrasts exist outside of a painting I’ve seen online, or at a museum? This sky is real. And, it is fucking beautiful. That blows my mind.

   With that said, on my trip to Chicago, I flew from Kansas City. It had just finished with a winter storm in the midwest and was still snowing a little in Chicago, so there was some pretty epic cloud cover. I boarded my plane and was on the runway waiting to take off. Once in the air, it was the typical ‘Ooooh, I love seeing things that I’ve seen a bajillion times from up here!’. Then we entered into the clouds. They were really, really thick I thought to my self. It took probably 5 or so minutes to get through the thick puffballs. But, once we finally surfaced from the coverage, I was struck mute. On the verge of letting out an audible sob that I had to stifle. The tops of these clouds were the most beautiful thing that I’ve ever seen. I can’t even really explain how they looked, or what about them that moved me to tears. Maybe it was the ‘is this a painting?’ sort of feeling. Or, it was something more. 

Do you have any stories, or pictures of beauty in the sky?

…in which a spark lights a burnt out barista.

     Went to Chicago last weekend. Spent four days in that town (well I was actually in the northern burb of Evanston, but you get the idea). From what I can gather it is a lovely place. Evanston seemed nice, eclectic, and fun. And, Chicago proper felt like it was truly, an exciting city. But, alas, I was stuck in a Master class all weekend learning all sorts of lame Commedia things. Drats.

     The Piccolo Theatre in Evanston hosted Commedia master and Maestro of the International School for the Comic Actor, who gave a master (crash) class in Commedia and he performed his Pulcinelatta “Pulcinella Nera” at the theatre. Two six hour classes filled out clowny minds with the 4 basic types of masks; Vecchi, Zanni, Capitani, et L’inammorati. Now, I’ve been doing so much reading, watching, thinking on all of the things that were taught in the class, so nothing was really ‘new’. But, having a true master of the craft teaching you really gives all the academic research meaning. Putting these characters that I know well already into my body really gave me the connections I needed to further my spark. I am really stoked to go school in Italy, even more so now that I’ve met the Maestro and have gotten a taste for what is to come. 

Now I just have to survive until July…

    Which might be harder than it seems….

         I really hate my job…..

  Since I’ve been back from Chicago, I’ve been loathing going to work even more so than normal. Burnt out to the extreme. It is hard to muster the want and will to care about a job when your boss is a man child and a horrible business man. Sure he knows the basics of how to purchase things and run the markup and all the other nonsensical accounting it takes to run a cafe/sammach shop. But, he has no idea to communicate or market things. Thus is the woe of working at a place that is doomed to fail or at best, be mediocre. The location allows for nothing more. It is depressing.

 Also, I’ve realized I need a job that has a finite, set goal. At the cafe I’m on a constant journey with no goal or no end in sight. It is just going through the motions, getting a pay check once a week. And this could seemingly go on forever if left to it’s own devices. Set goals. Finite end. This is why I love theatre as a profession. Each project has a set life. You rehearse and take a journey to a final, set product; the show. Albeit, a show could run for weeks if not months (decades if you’re Cats), everything must come to an end and a new adventure, with new goals must start. I love how this works. I love everything about theatre. It’s pretty great.

Out of thoughts.

Till the next.

In bocca al lupo.

To be…or…not… Oh Fuck You Hamlet!

It’s time again to start auditioning!

The Living Room KC is doing a production of Titus Andronicus by the one Bill Shakespeare. And, I’m excited to audition for this one because it is being direct by the one, the only, Kyle Hatley. From the director’s notes on the audition flyer, it looks like it is going to be one hell of a production. Blood. Lots of it. Everywhere. Yeah, good stuff. Though, going into this audition, I am having some pangs around from freshly healed auditioning scars.

In December I made preparations for auditions for the annual Heartland of American Shakespeare Festival. This year they are doing two productions, since it is the 25th (?) anniversary of the Fest. Antony and Cleopatra and A Midsummer Night’s Dream will be put forth in the Southmoreland Park.

As for any audition I prepped two contrasting monologues. I have a few in my back pocket that I like to do. One being my Dogberry from Much Ado. Worked this one quite a bit, and I just love the piece. Added some of my new found skills in clown and Commedia to spice it up a bit. And I am pleased with it’s progress. I put it in from of the auditioners. It got some laughs. Normally I also use a piece from King Leer; a speech by a character who simply is titled “First Gentleman”. Simple, and direct; loaded with lots of stuff to act upon. But, foolish me; I decided to tackle something a little too lofty. Hamlet: King of Ruining My Audition-land.

I had worked a monologue for an exercise in my Shakespeare acting class. A short little tag on the end of a scene. I had fun with it in class. And, since I like it so much, I thought it was worth a shot as an audition piece. NOPE! Turns out ol’ Hambone like to stick it to yah. Atleast, at this point in my acting he likes to take a big ol’ poo all over my audition. I presented it. And made my self feel like I was a flailing, blubbering idiot (which was the point of Dogberry because, well, he is just that. BUT NOT HAMLET!).

So, after that, my confidence was properly beaten. Head hanging, I sulked home and tended my wounds. It took me a bit to realize where I had gone wrong. And, the simple fact is that I picked a piece that was just not cut out for auditioning. Complex, detailed, subtle. Not direct, charged or focused. Now I am set (so I hope) for this next audition. I have a new tragic piece from Coriolanius. I really like it. And, it has appeal to the current political landscape of the nation.

Allonz-y!

p.s.

Oh, and I got accepted into Fava’s school in Italia. Yup. And, I’m going to a master class led by him next month.

There is also a possible job at the KCRep in my future.

SO MUCH STUFF HAPPENING!!!

Improv Rules to Live by:

“Listen, say yes, live in the moment, make sure you play with people who have your back, make big choices early and often. Don’t start a scene where two people are talking about jumping out of a plane.Start the scene having already jumped. If you are scared, look into your partner’s eyes. You will feel better.”  - Amy Poehler

I love acting so hard.

(Source: samwiech)