Yeah. So I have said before that I like Meisner technique because you can access your emotional well without having to go to your deepest darkest stuff. But what happens when the material is about your deepest darkest place?
Well, I hit that wall today. There are those moments that are wonderful and brilliant. And there are the moments that are very difficult for me personally-suddenly, in a way they weren't the last time I did the show or even yesterday. There are those moments when I feel victorious and and and...
And I have a brilliant director who knows how to take me to the hard place=the place where I leave off being self-indulgent and become a servant. It becomes about the audience. And as long as the moment isn't about me and its about the audience learning this information and changing, growing, or taking action because of it.
Service; the deepest.
Wednesday, August 10, 2011
Friday, August 5, 2011
Didn't see it coming
...and why didn't I? I just wrote about it yesterday. But as the excitement of this new venture is upon me, all I can think is I WANT MY MOMMY!
Well, that's a little dramatic. It is not constant. But, well this line from the play describes it accurately:
Well, that's a little dramatic. It is not constant. But, well this line from the play describes it accurately:
I instantly feel that desert place in my soul,
that heat, parched passion place,
longing for one drop of anything Thelisa.
that heat, parched passion place,
longing for one drop of anything Thelisa.
Yeah, that's pretty much it. It comes and takes me suddenly, swiftly, I'm there, I cry. Its gone. This is all very new for me. But I have given the grief permission to be here. So here it is...Wow. Didn't know it would be like this. I've never grieved before. I am realizing that I have NEVER grieved before. I didn't grieve her, so I didn't know how to grieve anything or anyone.
I had fair warning. I've finally started actually reading the Motherless Mothers book. So, I should have known it was coming. But I didn't. This event, the Fringe that is, is a huge big deal for me. Possibly career and therefore life altering in a wonderful way. Of course I want my mother there to witness it. And she's not. So...
Well. Here we are.
Tuesday, August 2, 2011
Solo
One of the hardest things about solo work, is well, its solo.
I need the audience. Its all about serving it to them anyway. And this sounds like whining, even to me, but it is hard to make it new and different for the same person who has been watching you do it day after day. Alas, that is the WORK of the work. So I will not complain.
I am my own scene partner, there is no one to call and say, hey let's go over this scene, or to call me and say that .I don't have anyone but me telling me if that was good or if that sucked, or if that was interesting and let's explore it some more...I shouldn't say NO ONE, I do have some very wonderful friends, who have given of their time and allowed me to use their eyes.
It's even more...challenging when its a show that has been mounted once and your director is in a different city, and she thinks your just the greatest thing since sliced bread and just trusts you to get it done...and your children need you and you feel guilty because you need to rehearse and your husband needs you to rub his back after his 12 hour day, that he worked so that you can be an artist and the laundry needs to be folded and you're doing one of the scariest things in your life and and and...
I am clearly having a moment today. And it all boils down to this: I WANT MY MOMMY. If she were here, I think that I could call her and she would understand, at the very least, me. If not the particulars of my peculiar life, I just know that somehow, she would understand ME. And I realize that the most wonderful gift that going through the process of this show has given me, is that I can finally say that, "I want my mommy" and not feel guilty about crying for missing what I never had. I can finally GRIEVE. And that is a good thing. It hurts. It is painful, and it is scary, but, after the pain washes over me, and I cry and fret, and feel like it is so unfair that I have to face this life without her, I breathe, and I am okay.
The sky didn't fall. No one else died because I allowed myself to feel it, and no one was hurt. I didn't lose control of my life even though I may have lost control of my emotions momentarily, and and and...
I'm still here. Solo.
I need the audience. Its all about serving it to them anyway. And this sounds like whining, even to me, but it is hard to make it new and different for the same person who has been watching you do it day after day. Alas, that is the WORK of the work. So I will not complain.
I am my own scene partner, there is no one to call and say, hey let's go over this scene, or to call me and say that .I don't have anyone but me telling me if that was good or if that sucked, or if that was interesting and let's explore it some more...I shouldn't say NO ONE, I do have some very wonderful friends, who have given of their time and allowed me to use their eyes.
It's even more...challenging when its a show that has been mounted once and your director is in a different city, and she thinks your just the greatest thing since sliced bread and just trusts you to get it done...and your children need you and you feel guilty because you need to rehearse and your husband needs you to rub his back after his 12 hour day, that he worked so that you can be an artist and the laundry needs to be folded and you're doing one of the scariest things in your life and and and...
I am clearly having a moment today. And it all boils down to this: I WANT MY MOMMY. If she were here, I think that I could call her and she would understand, at the very least, me. If not the particulars of my peculiar life, I just know that somehow, she would understand ME. And I realize that the most wonderful gift that going through the process of this show has given me, is that I can finally say that, "I want my mommy" and not feel guilty about crying for missing what I never had. I can finally GRIEVE. And that is a good thing. It hurts. It is painful, and it is scary, but, after the pain washes over me, and I cry and fret, and feel like it is so unfair that I have to face this life without her, I breathe, and I am okay.
The sky didn't fall. No one else died because I allowed myself to feel it, and no one was hurt. I didn't lose control of my life even though I may have lost control of my emotions momentarily, and and and...
I'm still here. Solo.
Wednesday, July 27, 2011
Preview...
I'm trying out the new scenes this week to see what's working and what's not. Super excited. Solo shows can be such a strange process, because you are your own scene partner, or the audience is--either way, the only eyes you have are your director and trusted friends. And even the director, depending on the piece is more of a co-conspirator.
I know Cathy and I hit a wall during the first leg of the process; the same wall every show hits, where you are in it so deep, it's difficult to tell if its good, or if it just means that much to you because of the time you've spent with it.
You need those extra eyes. Thank God for the trusted eyes I have in this process! But here is a taste of one of the new sections, just the text...
I know Cathy and I hit a wall during the first leg of the process; the same wall every show hits, where you are in it so deep, it's difficult to tell if its good, or if it just means that much to you because of the time you've spent with it.
You need those extra eyes. Thank God for the trusted eyes I have in this process! But here is a taste of one of the new sections, just the text...
Saturday, July 23, 2011
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)