For those of you who do not know them, Crystal Swing is a band from Cork, consisting of Mary, the mother, and Dervla and Derek, her daughter and son. Mary plays the keyboards, and her clothing and gestures are right out of 50s America. Dervla fancies herself a purer, more Irish Shania Twain, and Derek is.... well, a cross between Elvis, Buddy Holly, and Gumby.
Recently, Crystal Swing made it onto Ellen DeGeneres's show. It was a boon to Irish people all around, but Irish people in Dublin, if I can generalise for over a million individuals, think that Crystal Swing are funny. As in, silly funny.
When I first saw Crystal Swing, I thought that they had to be kidding. I thought for sure that they were ironic -- pretending to be all innocent and country bumpkinish, but really, this was all a ploy to differentiate themselves from other bands, and their performance was faux-innocent. But my friends in Ireland assured me that they were serious. Very serious. I couldn't understand -- I mean, check out Mary, and her little head bops, and her hair style and dress and makeup, and facial expressions...it's so June Cleaver from Leave it to Beaver! She can't be serious! And the kids -- siblings -- singing about sex to each other, all the while looking at the camera with faces of pure innocence! Is this a joke? I was really confused.
Things only got worse (for my comprehension) when Panti -- a famous drag queen here in the Dub -- did a parody of "He Drinks Tequila" in her weekly show, referring to her band as Cryshtal Shwing. I thought that Crystal Swing were already parodying something else, so how could Panti parody a parody? Is there a word for this? Linda Hutcheon, where are you when I need you?
But recently, after watching way too many YouTube videos of these folks, I figured it out. Crystal Swing are popular because they tap into what we all want, but are afraid to admit we want. They stand for hope in a world of cynicism. They make us want to believe that life could be so simple and clean. They are ... pure and innocent, and we all want to taste just a little bit of that. I heard them interviewed on Irish radio a few days ago, when they were in Los Angeles for Ellen's show. At the end of the interview, the host said that they were "genuine, warm people," and that they were good people, "and that's the truth." The fact that he felt the need to mention that last part -- to clarify that he was talking truthfully -- is telling, because it's hard to know if anyone (the performers or hosts or cheering audience members) are taking the piss. Audiences are made defensive by their earnestness. Watching Ellen DeGeneres watch Crystal Swing while they perform on her show is telling: she dances around a bit, but every few seconds, she looks over at one of her crew. The look is small and discrete, but it is clear. She is asking: are these folks for real? Do you actually LIKE this? Because, uh, I think I actually like this, but I'm not sure I'm supposed to, because I think maybe they can't really be serious. And then I would be the silly one.
And the truth is this: people like Crystal Swing, but more importantly, they want to like Crystal Swing, but they fear they will look like fools for doing so. So the telling looks appear, and the under-the-breath guffaws break the surface. I understand, because I do it as well. How could I enter into pure enjoyment while watching them, without feeling like other people might think I am naive and have bad taste? It's only possible to like them if... well... if you pretend not to. This whole discussion reminds me of what Carl Wilson writes about in his book about Celine Dion. He hates her music -- he finds it mewling and appalling -- but still, he is driven to understand why so many people are moved by it. He meditates on the nature of taste, and the elements of ego and aesthetic judgment that constitute taste.
I could say a lot more about Crystal Swing and how they provide a way to measure our perspective on contemporary life, but instead, I'll leave you with Derek, and his mouth full of adolescent teeth, doing the Hucklebuck on Ireland's Late Late Show:
Showing posts with label Performance. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Performance. Show all posts
Saturday, April 17, 2010
Wednesday, March 17, 2010
St. Patrick's Day Parade in Dublin
Just came back from the parade - I was able to watch it about 200 metres from my apartment, which reminds me how glad I am that I chose such a central location. It makes finding a bite to eat (at home) and changing clothes for the next adventure (at home) quite convenient.
This was my first Patrick's Day parade in Ireland, and I was quite excited, because it has to be the largest and most public way that Ireland performs her identity for herself, for the tourists, and to the world. I wasn't sure what to expect, but I did think it would be big.
I was right, but it was not big in some of the ways I expected. For one, there seemed to be a real emphasis on bicycle or people-powered floats. There were lots of huge puppets operated by groundlings, and usually one person cycling, while others helped to push the float from behind. In some of my pics, you can see them struggling to get up the hill on Dame St. at Parliament. Only a few floats were gasoline-powered, and this was a nice surprise. I mean, I barely made it through all the cigarette smoke that surrounded me on Dame Street - burning fuel would not have been very pleasant. Most of the large spectacle items were animal figures, which I guess fits with the whole pagan thing, and the colours were bright and lively. There was an artisanal feel to many of the large puppets, which was a nice contrast with, say, all the plastic used in the Pride parade in Toronto.
There was hardly a nationalist inkling in site - in fact, there seemed to be an absence of demonstrably "Irish" elements. A few Irish cities/counties had contingents - Donegal, Waterford, Belfast, and there was an international presence as well - I saw Madrid, something from Italy, a group that looked like they were in traditional Indian garb, and a couple of African-themed groups. The most random one had the be the North Carolina State Marching Band. I was like, WTF? Overall, I would say that the multiculturalism of the parade - the presence of different ethnicities - outweighed the visibility of different ethnicities that I encounter on my wanderings around Dublin. But I don't really wander all that far around Dublin, so whaddoIknow?
The crowds were upbeat, but as far as I could tell, not really drunk yet, so that was a relief. Someone told me to wear wellies because it can get that messy outside. But right now, in my very central apartment, it's once again quiet outside, and the barriers on the street were coming down as the last group of cyclists passed by.
Anyway, off I go to other Patrick's Day adventures. Just needed to dump the SD card, recharge the camera battery, and fuel myself.
The pics below show my wanderings around Temple Bar and O'Connell/the Quays before the parade began, the parade itself, and then my street afterward. I had an ok position on the street, but there are lots of heads in the shots, so please skim through quickly!
This was my first Patrick's Day parade in Ireland, and I was quite excited, because it has to be the largest and most public way that Ireland performs her identity for herself, for the tourists, and to the world. I wasn't sure what to expect, but I did think it would be big.
I was right, but it was not big in some of the ways I expected. For one, there seemed to be a real emphasis on bicycle or people-powered floats. There were lots of huge puppets operated by groundlings, and usually one person cycling, while others helped to push the float from behind. In some of my pics, you can see them struggling to get up the hill on Dame St. at Parliament. Only a few floats were gasoline-powered, and this was a nice surprise. I mean, I barely made it through all the cigarette smoke that surrounded me on Dame Street - burning fuel would not have been very pleasant. Most of the large spectacle items were animal figures, which I guess fits with the whole pagan thing, and the colours were bright and lively. There was an artisanal feel to many of the large puppets, which was a nice contrast with, say, all the plastic used in the Pride parade in Toronto.
There was hardly a nationalist inkling in site - in fact, there seemed to be an absence of demonstrably "Irish" elements. A few Irish cities/counties had contingents - Donegal, Waterford, Belfast, and there was an international presence as well - I saw Madrid, something from Italy, a group that looked like they were in traditional Indian garb, and a couple of African-themed groups. The most random one had the be the North Carolina State Marching Band. I was like, WTF? Overall, I would say that the multiculturalism of the parade - the presence of different ethnicities - outweighed the visibility of different ethnicities that I encounter on my wanderings around Dublin. But I don't really wander all that far around Dublin, so whaddoIknow?
The crowds were upbeat, but as far as I could tell, not really drunk yet, so that was a relief. Someone told me to wear wellies because it can get that messy outside. But right now, in my very central apartment, it's once again quiet outside, and the barriers on the street were coming down as the last group of cyclists passed by.
Anyway, off I go to other Patrick's Day adventures. Just needed to dump the SD card, recharge the camera battery, and fuel myself.
The pics below show my wanderings around Temple Bar and O'Connell/the Quays before the parade began, the parade itself, and then my street afterward. I had an ok position on the street, but there are lots of heads in the shots, so please skim through quickly!
Thursday, December 17, 2009
Dublin Made Me Gay!!
Well, of course this is not entirely true, but I can say that living here has made me gay-ER in my daily activities.
As a recovering-Catholic Republic that only decriminalized homosexuality in 1993 (and still criminalizes abortion), Dublin is not the first place that pops to mind when one thinks of gay-friendly cities. But there is something still kind of sparkly and new about the out gay scene here. Toronto's scene has been around for such a long time, and there is a whole street dedicated to everything LGBTQ. If you miss an event, no worries - there will be another one coming along soon. I suppose the same is true of Dublin, based on the small but growing body of knowledge I have about lesbian/queer activities in the city, but it hasn't been this way for as long, so there is still a kind of buzz around events.
Take, for example, the Gay and Lesbian choir I went to the other night. My friends Shannon and Debs asked me out, and we were joined by a couple of their friends; on my way out the door, another friend, Florry, called to see what I was up to that night - did I want to join him at Gloria, the Gay and Lesbian choir? Well yes indeed, see you there. When I posted the pics on Facebook, another friend of mine tagged a friend of hers in the pic of the choir. Do all the queers know each other in this city? The venue was packed - I would say there were easily 600-800 people in the church, and not a spare seat to be found. I think this is a pretty fantastic turnout for any kind of event, let alone an amateur (in the not-paid sense) choir from a slim slice of the overall Dublin demographic. (A note on the venue - we weren't sure at first if St. Anne's was Catholic or Church of Ireland, and while it would have been more deliciously transgressive if it had been the former, the fact that it is Anglican still scores one point for the good side of the schism).
Come to think of it, maybe it's not a gay thing at all. I've been amazed by how tightly knit many communities are in this city. For example, in the theatre world, the people who write about theatre (critics and academics) seem to know the people who make theatre (directors and writers and actors etc) well. I mean, they give each other little hugs and hellos when they see each other. It's not that there is no overlap at home, but most real interaction between academics and practitioners seems to be about the work. People here seem to know each other socially. I am living in an entirely different culture than my home culture, and I am continually amazed by the little Eureka moments I have that remind me of this.
In the beginning, I noticed cultural differences, and was hit with a short but intense dose of culture shock. At one point, I thought "I am an ALIEN! Who are these people??" That seems to have passed as I return to a more moderate view of our differences, but now I am starting to see the subtle differences a bit better. To come back to the gay thing -- I need to tune my gaydar to a new wavelength. I thought I was getting pretty good at quickly noting who was likely playing for the team at home, but here, forget it. The public appearance of being gay/lesbian is different than it is at home. I am sure this observation does little to help those who argue that being gay is biological (and therefore more politically defensible, somehow), but it's true! I can't even identify, yet, why my gaydar is so off, but it's been very interesting. It kind of means everyone can be gay, in my imagination. Talk about queering the world around you...
Well, I am off home for the holidays tomorrow morning, which means I will be missing at least five queer holiday events in Dublin. But I figure I can just pick up where I left off when I return - there is so much going on! I never thought I would say this four months ago, but I think I might actually miss my wacky new Dublin life...a wee bit...over the holidays.
As a recovering-Catholic Republic that only decriminalized homosexuality in 1993 (and still criminalizes abortion), Dublin is not the first place that pops to mind when one thinks of gay-friendly cities. But there is something still kind of sparkly and new about the out gay scene here. Toronto's scene has been around for such a long time, and there is a whole street dedicated to everything LGBTQ. If you miss an event, no worries - there will be another one coming along soon. I suppose the same is true of Dublin, based on the small but growing body of knowledge I have about lesbian/queer activities in the city, but it hasn't been this way for as long, so there is still a kind of buzz around events.
Take, for example, the Gay and Lesbian choir I went to the other night. My friends Shannon and Debs asked me out, and we were joined by a couple of their friends; on my way out the door, another friend, Florry, called to see what I was up to that night - did I want to join him at Gloria, the Gay and Lesbian choir? Well yes indeed, see you there. When I posted the pics on Facebook, another friend of mine tagged a friend of hers in the pic of the choir. Do all the queers know each other in this city? The venue was packed - I would say there were easily 600-800 people in the church, and not a spare seat to be found. I think this is a pretty fantastic turnout for any kind of event, let alone an amateur (in the not-paid sense) choir from a slim slice of the overall Dublin demographic. (A note on the venue - we weren't sure at first if St. Anne's was Catholic or Church of Ireland, and while it would have been more deliciously transgressive if it had been the former, the fact that it is Anglican still scores one point for the good side of the schism).
Come to think of it, maybe it's not a gay thing at all. I've been amazed by how tightly knit many communities are in this city. For example, in the theatre world, the people who write about theatre (critics and academics) seem to know the people who make theatre (directors and writers and actors etc) well. I mean, they give each other little hugs and hellos when they see each other. It's not that there is no overlap at home, but most real interaction between academics and practitioners seems to be about the work. People here seem to know each other socially. I am living in an entirely different culture than my home culture, and I am continually amazed by the little Eureka moments I have that remind me of this.
In the beginning, I noticed cultural differences, and was hit with a short but intense dose of culture shock. At one point, I thought "I am an ALIEN! Who are these people??" That seems to have passed as I return to a more moderate view of our differences, but now I am starting to see the subtle differences a bit better. To come back to the gay thing -- I need to tune my gaydar to a new wavelength. I thought I was getting pretty good at quickly noting who was likely playing for the team at home, but here, forget it. The public appearance of being gay/lesbian is different than it is at home. I am sure this observation does little to help those who argue that being gay is biological (and therefore more politically defensible, somehow), but it's true! I can't even identify, yet, why my gaydar is so off, but it's been very interesting. It kind of means everyone can be gay, in my imagination. Talk about queering the world around you...
Well, I am off home for the holidays tomorrow morning, which means I will be missing at least five queer holiday events in Dublin. But I figure I can just pick up where I left off when I return - there is so much going on! I never thought I would say this four months ago, but I think I might actually miss my wacky new Dublin life...a wee bit...over the holidays.
Monday, December 14, 2009
Corn Exchange workshop
Last week, I took part in an introductory commedia intensive, offered by the super cool Dublin theatre company Corn Exchange. Annie Ryan, the company's AD, led the workshop along with the Janet Moran, a busy actor who has been in several of the company's productions. Both were involved in Freefall, which was definitely the stand-out production at this year's Dublin Theatre Festival. I haven't been on stage (although the lecture hall is a kind of stage...) in about a decade, so it was quite the experience to be thrown in with a group of professional actors, but they were gentle with me :) The workshop was excellent - Annie is an excellent teacher who has a great ability to improvise her direction depending on the moment - she is in tune with the performers' energy, and really pushes participants while always maintaining a safe and playful atmosphere. She runs workshops once or twice a year, and I would go back in a second (although I'm not sure they would want me back, LOL).
What amazed me most about the actors was there great willingness to play, and to play big and small depending on the moment. I've hosted and participated in a number of theatre workshops for undergraduates in the past few years, and I have always found the students really hungry and willing, but not always entirely able to play. But of course, this is the difference between professionals, and professionals-in-training (not that we aren't all amateurs and professionals at the same time, on some level, in our chosen work).
I feel drawn to Corn Exchange because of their philosophy, their commitment to theatricality (and not naturalism), and their process: for the last while, Annie has been starting rehearsals with a group yoga practice, and as you know from previous posts, I am seriously hearting yoga right now. But Corn Exchange has also been on my radar for a long time - a couple of years ago, I assigned my students a group project: to build an entire website dedicated to Dublin By Lamplight, which Corn Exchange premiered at the Project Arts Centre in 2004, and then toured around Ireland, the UK, and Australia until 2007. It's odd how life operates in circles or spirals; many moons ago I was offered a PhD position at Trinity College, but I turned it down to attend the University of Toronto. I feel a bit like the character in John Mighton's play Possible Worlds, continually cycling back around multiple possibilities for existence.
Anyhoo, this blog posting is mostly an excuse to post a bunch of pictures from the workshop. The company draws on commedia traditions, but also updates the traditions, and infuses them with elements of story theatre. Physical postures are informed by LeCoq and several other physical theatre practices, so, for example, Pantalone types don't need to stoop over, and Capitanos can appear both in and out of uniform. The company has distilled the essence of the types, and uses these stock 'essences' as inspiration for character-building. It's a completely unique form; characters and text can be contemporary, and they discard the plastic masks in favour of fantastic makeup. You'll see what I mean in the slideshow below. Enjoy!
Corn Exchange Commedia Workshop, Dec 7-10 2009
Leinster Cricket Club, Rathmines
Meta Blog
Loyal readers (if indeed there are any out there), I know I've been away for a while. It's just that...I got kinda...distracted (bonus points for anyone who knows that is a quote, and can name the source). I've been trying to figure out why I haven't felt as compelled to write about my experiences lately as I did in the beginning, so here is my opportunity to work that out. Meta-blog: the blog posting about the process of blog postings. Here are some possible explanations:
1. First and foremost, I've been busy during the social hours. I usually write blog postings at night and on weekends, but I've been rather busy at night and on weekends. My friend Andrew even wrote me an email saying "Are you ok? Because you haven't blogged in a while!" Blogging: proof of life.
2. Related to the first: my social life has kind of taken off. Whopppppeeee! I was dreadfully lonely in the beginning, but I forced my way into several people's lives. Just picture a sad clown wearing a Canadian flag, holding a light saber, and grinning madly - that's how I likely came off. Several of those people magically adopted me! Some of them even drop me texts when they haven't heard from me in a few days! I am always delighted and just a bit amazed when someone wants to be my friend, because for a long time, I was so freakin' busy that I had no room for adopting new people, and I lost perspective. I thought everyone felt that way.
3. Cultural Life: I have been going to the theatre and other traditional cultural events since the beginning, but, partly through my very cool dancer friend Deirdre, I've been introduced to a burgeoning indie/arty/dance/performance scene. There are lots of exciting smaller-scale/one-off things happening in Dublin, and I've taken the opportunity to attend what I can. In terms of artistic tastes, I am really moving towards the visual and kinesthetic. I mean, I've always preferred theatre that verges on performance art, demonstration, or 'happening', but lately I want to soak up anything with great movement, preferably if it has few words. Blame it on the Irish dramatic tendency towards monologue theatre: I need a break from all the blarney.
Last night I went to The Back Loft for Mamuska, which bills itself as a 'cross-media arts salon'. There were a series of short performances - dance pieces, performance art, experimental films, soundscapes, clown -- and the audience was encouraged to wander around the space. At this particular event, they had the chairs (a great collection of armchairs, kitchen chairs, and office chairs!) arranged in a traditional forward-facing, aisle-in-centre fashion, so the wandering didn't happen too much, but I did manage to meet a few new people. One of the performance artists - Hilary Williams - was sitting beside me, and struck up a great chat. She told me that she had returned to do an MA in Performance Art at age 55, without having much knowledge of the field at the time. She was just bursting with energy, and wanted to chat about every performance as soon as (or before, LOL) it ended. And as I made my way to buy a raffle ticket, I saw a woman who had been in the restorative workshop I had taken earlier in the day. I keep forgetting that Dublin is not very big - there have been several instances where I have bumped into someone in one place early in the day, and in another entirely different place later in the day. I am glad she singled me out and said hi, because I was so blissed out at the workshop that I'm not sure I really saw anyone else there. Think of it as perma-dristy.
I was at another event at the Back Loft of La Catedral Studios last weekend - this one was called 'Zero Gravity', and it was hosted by a newish collective who have dubbed themselves 'Art Freckles' (at first I thought Art Freckles was some philanthropist guy with a wicked name). The event was also an eclectic mix of short performances, but I got a bit weirded out hanging around by myself because everyone seemed to know each other, so I didn't stay much past Deirdre's performance.
4. Back to the reasons why I haven't been blogging so much. I think the fourth reason - and final for now, gotta get to work - is that I am not finding Dublin as weird as I did in the beginning. I'm probably not noticing the cultural particularities so much. This could be a really big loss, but I see it as a good sign: I am integrating. My dear dear friend Paul (who visits me via the Skype gods daily) even caught me saying "em" instead of "um". My unconscious verbal tics are turning Irish! Jaysus!!
Finally, to my Canuck friends out there: I am home on Friday. Looking forward to seeing everyone!
1. First and foremost, I've been busy during the social hours. I usually write blog postings at night and on weekends, but I've been rather busy at night and on weekends. My friend Andrew even wrote me an email saying "Are you ok? Because you haven't blogged in a while!" Blogging: proof of life.
2. Related to the first: my social life has kind of taken off. Whopppppeeee! I was dreadfully lonely in the beginning, but I forced my way into several people's lives. Just picture a sad clown wearing a Canadian flag, holding a light saber, and grinning madly - that's how I likely came off. Several of those people magically adopted me! Some of them even drop me texts when they haven't heard from me in a few days! I am always delighted and just a bit amazed when someone wants to be my friend, because for a long time, I was so freakin' busy that I had no room for adopting new people, and I lost perspective. I thought everyone felt that way.
3. Cultural Life: I have been going to the theatre and other traditional cultural events since the beginning, but, partly through my very cool dancer friend Deirdre, I've been introduced to a burgeoning indie/arty/dance/performance scene. There are lots of exciting smaller-scale/one-off things happening in Dublin, and I've taken the opportunity to attend what I can. In terms of artistic tastes, I am really moving towards the visual and kinesthetic. I mean, I've always preferred theatre that verges on performance art, demonstration, or 'happening', but lately I want to soak up anything with great movement, preferably if it has few words. Blame it on the Irish dramatic tendency towards monologue theatre: I need a break from all the blarney.
Last night I went to The Back Loft for Mamuska, which bills itself as a 'cross-media arts salon'. There were a series of short performances - dance pieces, performance art, experimental films, soundscapes, clown -- and the audience was encouraged to wander around the space. At this particular event, they had the chairs (a great collection of armchairs, kitchen chairs, and office chairs!) arranged in a traditional forward-facing, aisle-in-centre fashion, so the wandering didn't happen too much, but I did manage to meet a few new people. One of the performance artists - Hilary Williams - was sitting beside me, and struck up a great chat. She told me that she had returned to do an MA in Performance Art at age 55, without having much knowledge of the field at the time. She was just bursting with energy, and wanted to chat about every performance as soon as (or before, LOL) it ended. And as I made my way to buy a raffle ticket, I saw a woman who had been in the restorative workshop I had taken earlier in the day. I keep forgetting that Dublin is not very big - there have been several instances where I have bumped into someone in one place early in the day, and in another entirely different place later in the day. I am glad she singled me out and said hi, because I was so blissed out at the workshop that I'm not sure I really saw anyone else there. Think of it as perma-dristy.
I was at another event at the Back Loft of La Catedral Studios last weekend - this one was called 'Zero Gravity', and it was hosted by a newish collective who have dubbed themselves 'Art Freckles' (at first I thought Art Freckles was some philanthropist guy with a wicked name). The event was also an eclectic mix of short performances, but I got a bit weirded out hanging around by myself because everyone seemed to know each other, so I didn't stay much past Deirdre's performance.
4. Back to the reasons why I haven't been blogging so much. I think the fourth reason - and final for now, gotta get to work - is that I am not finding Dublin as weird as I did in the beginning. I'm probably not noticing the cultural particularities so much. This could be a really big loss, but I see it as a good sign: I am integrating. My dear dear friend Paul (who visits me via the Skype gods daily) even caught me saying "em" instead of "um". My unconscious verbal tics are turning Irish! Jaysus!!
Finally, to my Canuck friends out there: I am home on Friday. Looking forward to seeing everyone!
Wednesday, November 11, 2009
Dissed in Dublin, Part I: Dissed by David
I said to my sister the other day that I am becoming a ‘coffee whore,’ in the sense that I will ask pretty much anyone out for a coffee or pint if they seem interesting. This is a new thing for me, or perhaps maybe it’s an old thing that has resurfaced under my current circumstances – in a new country, single, and determined to create a rich and interesting social circle. Most people have been very obliging (you know who you are!), but you can’t win all the time.
Last weekend I went to see a production of Knives in Hens by playwright David Harrower. This is a very special play to me – I directed it six years ago in Toronto (almost to the day), and during the audition process, met the amazing woman I would spend the next six years of my life with. And of course it was written by a fellow Harrower, even if I don’t think we’re very closely related (who knows? Need to get on that family tree one of these days). My friend Paul suggested that I see it with his friend Florry, who lives in Dublin. Paul was one of the stage managers on the TO show, and his friend Florry is friends with the publicity guy for this Dublin production. Lots of odd connections here and there.
The production, by Landmark Theatre, was being staged at the Smock Alley Theatre, which is just steps from my apartment (like so many things!). I set out a few minutes before I was to meet Florry, taking a small winding street that conveniently connects my street to the quays. As I turned the bend, there was David Harrower himself, walking in the same direction. I knew that he was going to be doing a Q&A after the show, so I wasn’t surprised to see him, but I was a bit surprised by my own ease in chatting him up. The conversation went something like this:
Me: Hi, aren’t you David Harrower?
DH: Yes, I am
Me: Ah yes, I’m going to see Knives and Hens as well, just around the corner (I think I was hoping for something more than ‘Yes I am,’ so my response was a bit awkward).
DH: Oh yes.
Silence. Walking.
Me: Actually, my name is Harrower as well.
Pause.
I wouldn’t normally find that so interesting, but we both know it’s not very common. I’m Natalie. Natalie Harrower.
Pause (with me thinking ‘Your turn now’).
Me again: Actually, I directed Knives and Hens years ago, in Toronto.
DH: Oh, yes. Wait – did you send me a Facebook message a couple of years back?
Me: Yes! And you never responded! Hahaha.
DH: Oh yes, sorry about that, I was into Facebook for a while, then I wasn’t, then... (mumbles something).
Me: Ah well, it was a random message.
We talked about a few other things – the origin of the name Harrower or something – he thinks it’s from Fife – and then I somehow managed to make a joke about his lack of response to my email, and slapped him heartily on the back as I said this. I was thinking to myself, geeze, no shame here! I’ve just met him on the street and already I am making fun of him. We entered the space and both got caught up in the folks we were meeting, and that was it for a bit. In my peripheral vision on one of the uncomfortable benches that made up the audience seating, I could see him sitting a few rows behind me, struggling to make notes in the low light of the production.
There was a short Q&A afterwards, where I managed to ask a couple of questions about the play, and then when I was over, I went up to him and said “I don’t know how long you’re in town, but I am here until Wednesday morning, and then I have to head out to a conference, but if you have time I’d love to have a coffee and talk more about your work,” handing him a scrap of paper with my mobile number on it. He said he was around until Thursday am, and seemed vaguely interested in calling me (I did tell him I was a theatre academic). I smiled, and went off to dinner with my companion.
He never called (are you surprised?!)
I was dissed, for a second time, by David Harrower.
Looks like our common heritage and my interest in his work didn’t warrant a response the first time, and that my shining personality, presence in the same city, and continued interest in his work couldn’t even grant me the chance to buy him a coffee! Maybe I shouldn’t have slapped him on the back. Ah well, dinner at Gruel with Florry was lovely, and now I’m going to the Carribbean.
Last weekend I went to see a production of Knives in Hens by playwright David Harrower. This is a very special play to me – I directed it six years ago in Toronto (almost to the day), and during the audition process, met the amazing woman I would spend the next six years of my life with. And of course it was written by a fellow Harrower, even if I don’t think we’re very closely related (who knows? Need to get on that family tree one of these days). My friend Paul suggested that I see it with his friend Florry, who lives in Dublin. Paul was one of the stage managers on the TO show, and his friend Florry is friends with the publicity guy for this Dublin production. Lots of odd connections here and there.
The production, by Landmark Theatre, was being staged at the Smock Alley Theatre, which is just steps from my apartment (like so many things!). I set out a few minutes before I was to meet Florry, taking a small winding street that conveniently connects my street to the quays. As I turned the bend, there was David Harrower himself, walking in the same direction. I knew that he was going to be doing a Q&A after the show, so I wasn’t surprised to see him, but I was a bit surprised by my own ease in chatting him up. The conversation went something like this:
Me: Hi, aren’t you David Harrower?
DH: Yes, I am
Me: Ah yes, I’m going to see Knives and Hens as well, just around the corner (I think I was hoping for something more than ‘Yes I am,’ so my response was a bit awkward).
DH: Oh yes.
Silence. Walking.
Me: Actually, my name is Harrower as well.
Pause.
I wouldn’t normally find that so interesting, but we both know it’s not very common. I’m Natalie. Natalie Harrower.
Pause (with me thinking ‘Your turn now’).
Me again: Actually, I directed Knives and Hens years ago, in Toronto.
DH: Oh, yes. Wait – did you send me a Facebook message a couple of years back?
Me: Yes! And you never responded! Hahaha.
DH: Oh yes, sorry about that, I was into Facebook for a while, then I wasn’t, then... (mumbles something).
Me: Ah well, it was a random message.
We talked about a few other things – the origin of the name Harrower or something – he thinks it’s from Fife – and then I somehow managed to make a joke about his lack of response to my email, and slapped him heartily on the back as I said this. I was thinking to myself, geeze, no shame here! I’ve just met him on the street and already I am making fun of him. We entered the space and both got caught up in the folks we were meeting, and that was it for a bit. In my peripheral vision on one of the uncomfortable benches that made up the audience seating, I could see him sitting a few rows behind me, struggling to make notes in the low light of the production.
There was a short Q&A afterwards, where I managed to ask a couple of questions about the play, and then when I was over, I went up to him and said “I don’t know how long you’re in town, but I am here until Wednesday morning, and then I have to head out to a conference, but if you have time I’d love to have a coffee and talk more about your work,” handing him a scrap of paper with my mobile number on it. He said he was around until Thursday am, and seemed vaguely interested in calling me (I did tell him I was a theatre academic). I smiled, and went off to dinner with my companion.
He never called (are you surprised?!)
I was dissed, for a second time, by David Harrower.
Looks like our common heritage and my interest in his work didn’t warrant a response the first time, and that my shining personality, presence in the same city, and continued interest in his work couldn’t even grant me the chance to buy him a coffee! Maybe I shouldn’t have slapped him on the back. Ah well, dinner at Gruel with Florry was lovely, and now I’m going to the Carribbean.
Saturday, October 3, 2009
Everything in Perspective
I've been Dublin Theatre Festivalling all week, and while that is exciting in itself, it's also a great way to occupy my evenings, which are usually rather quiet. I saw DV8's To Be Straight With You last night up at the O'Reilly Theatre in Belvedere College.
On a map, Belvedere College looks far away from me, but it's really only a 20-25 min walk, so I killed time after dinner so that I would leave around 7:15, take a very leisurely walk, calmly take my seat, and do that thing I'm not used to: be just a bit early. (Dinner, by the way, was composed of smoked salmon and pre-made carrot-parsnip-turnip mash, because my stove/cooker blew yesterday and I had to blindly buy things from the prepared section of the grocery store. I'm not so good with prepared foods).
So, 7:15 rolls around, I leave the flat, I return 30 seconds later for my umbrella (this little farce is standard practice - I'm still not in the habit of bringing it automatically), and when I step back outside again, the misty rain has stopped. I double check my wallet to make sure I have the ticket (and the wallet, LOL, because I 'lost' it on the way to London last weekend, but that is another story), and then I glimpse the ticket: Start time 7:30pm.
Check phone. Current time: 7:24. OK! Time to hail my first cab! I frantically run across the bridge to the north side, because the traffic flows east along the Quays on the north side, and I have to go a bit east before going north (these are directional indicators that don't mean anything here, but my brain is hardwired for Never Eat Shredded Wheat). I jump in, and the guy says "Hello Pet, where can I take you?" and I blurt out something about thinking the show started at eight but realizing it starts at 7:30, and he's like "Oh sure, I'll get you there in time." Which is vey nice of him to say, but his driving revealed otherwise, as he leisure wove his way up to the theatre.
Arrival. Check phone. Current time: 7:33. I go inside and there are about thirty people standing around chatting, and I'm thinking, boy, aren't they casual - shouldn't they be inside right now? Until I ask someone, and it turns out this is the group of late people. They finally let us in, but they did little to guide us to any available seats, so I ended up following a bunch of women who were hiking up their skirts to climb over the front rows to available seats farther back. I admit that it was fitting, as DV8 is a physical theatre company, so it sort of put us in the mood. The show was a kind of testimonial/doc theatre piece about politics and social dangers of being gay in the world, all supported by beautiful movement, but talking about it in any detail feels like work, so nah-uh. It appears that DV8 are travelling to TO for World Stage, so you can see it yourself if you're interested.
I tried making friends in the lobby (Hello! (said like Carm), I was at the theatre, for a show about homosexuals, so you think I'd have a lot of people to talk to), but that didn't work, so off I trotted home, down O'Connell street, past a million Spars and Centras and Londises, past the Spire, along the Quays. I've been experiencing an acute bout of loneliness the last couple of days - it's the beginning of flu season so perhaps I've caught an emotional strain - and moments like the walk home are particularly hard, because as I leave the theatre (or cinema, or talk, or resto), the illusion of belonging created in that space slowly fades away, and I remember that I am going home to my cool pad -- my cool, empty pad. Cue the violins.
I decided to walk over the Ha' Penny Bride, 'cause is sure is purty, and it's lit up quite nicely at night, with the period lanterns at the top of the arches reflecting brightly off the shiny white paint below. This bridge is always really busy, with people stopping to take photos, or pausing to look down the Liffey in either direction. And there are often a number of people sitting in sleeping bags, trying to gather some change, and, I think, stay safely out of the dark and pissed-filled back alleys of the city. I think I have some kind of internalized bougey middle class guilt, because everytime I see someone who appears homeless, I feel terrible. But most of the time, I do nothing about it. And then I feel more terrible, and I really have no idea what the whole thing is about, but aside from giving people change every now and then, I do not interact. I want to interact, but I don't. And I don't like myself in these moments. But being in a new place, and in a remarkably new and porous headspace in general, all I could think is - cripes, if I am feeling low and lonely, how must these people feel? Talk about isolation. I walked by one young woman who was huddled in what looked like a damp sleeping bag, and I looked down and smiled, but I kept going. I got down onto the sidewalk, and just stopped. What was my fear? I felt like I wanted to connect, but there is something in me that tells me to shut off that feeling - to preserve something. Feck it, I went into the convenience store (not sure which one, but certainly a SparCentraLondis variety), bought two bags of chips with markedly different flavours, and headed back to the bridge. As I approached her, I felt I had to make as if this wasn't planned - I just happened to be walking by with two bags of chips, and I happened to think about offering her one. What is this BS? Why the performance? I don't know.
So I kind of paused, held out both, she scanned the labels, and chose the plain one (good choice, the salt and vinegar ones nearly took the roof off my mouth). I crouched down, and we ate the chips, chatting casually about nothing, the way one does with strangers on a bridge in the middle of a city. Except I was probably saying dumb and obvious things like "do you have somewhere to go," etc. But here is the thing that killed me. I pulled 5 Euro out of my pocket and handed it to her, and she looked at me with a perplexed face and said "Are you sure?" And all I could say was, "Yes, yes, I am sure," thinking how little 5 Euros really was to me, and absolutely taken aback by her question. I don't know why she asked me that. Was it, "Are you sure you can spare this, because it's so much more than the 20 cent coins I usually get," or was it "Are you sure you really want to give this to me - is it worth it?" Or something else that I haven't thought of. But I was really moved by the impulse, and so so so glad that I finally stopped to chat. I eventually got up and wished her well, and as I walked home, my head was ajumble with thoughts of my theatre-going and her bridge-living. My funky leather jacket and her damp sleeping bad. My loneliness, and whatever it is she must be feeling. It's never going to make any sense to me, so I came home and did some research, and I just sent off my application to volunteer with Simon Community. It's about frigging time.
Image source: voiceofdance.com
On a map, Belvedere College looks far away from me, but it's really only a 20-25 min walk, so I killed time after dinner so that I would leave around 7:15, take a very leisurely walk, calmly take my seat, and do that thing I'm not used to: be just a bit early. (Dinner, by the way, was composed of smoked salmon and pre-made carrot-parsnip-turnip mash, because my stove/cooker blew yesterday and I had to blindly buy things from the prepared section of the grocery store. I'm not so good with prepared foods).
So, 7:15 rolls around, I leave the flat, I return 30 seconds later for my umbrella (this little farce is standard practice - I'm still not in the habit of bringing it automatically), and when I step back outside again, the misty rain has stopped. I double check my wallet to make sure I have the ticket (and the wallet, LOL, because I 'lost' it on the way to London last weekend, but that is another story), and then I glimpse the ticket: Start time 7:30pm.
Check phone. Current time: 7:24. OK! Time to hail my first cab! I frantically run across the bridge to the north side, because the traffic flows east along the Quays on the north side, and I have to go a bit east before going north (these are directional indicators that don't mean anything here, but my brain is hardwired for Never Eat Shredded Wheat). I jump in, and the guy says "Hello Pet, where can I take you?" and I blurt out something about thinking the show started at eight but realizing it starts at 7:30, and he's like "Oh sure, I'll get you there in time." Which is vey nice of him to say, but his driving revealed otherwise, as he leisure wove his way up to the theatre.
Arrival. Check phone. Current time: 7:33. I go inside and there are about thirty people standing around chatting, and I'm thinking, boy, aren't they casual - shouldn't they be inside right now? Until I ask someone, and it turns out this is the group of late people. They finally let us in, but they did little to guide us to any available seats, so I ended up following a bunch of women who were hiking up their skirts to climb over the front rows to available seats farther back. I admit that it was fitting, as DV8 is a physical theatre company, so it sort of put us in the mood. The show was a kind of testimonial/doc theatre piece about politics and social dangers of being gay in the world, all supported by beautiful movement, but talking about it in any detail feels like work, so nah-uh. It appears that DV8 are travelling to TO for World Stage, so you can see it yourself if you're interested.
I tried making friends in the lobby (Hello! (said like Carm), I was at the theatre, for a show about homosexuals, so you think I'd have a lot of people to talk to), but that didn't work, so off I trotted home, down O'Connell street, past a million Spars and Centras and Londises, past the Spire, along the Quays. I've been experiencing an acute bout of loneliness the last couple of days - it's the beginning of flu season so perhaps I've caught an emotional strain - and moments like the walk home are particularly hard, because as I leave the theatre (or cinema, or talk, or resto), the illusion of belonging created in that space slowly fades away, and I remember that I am going home to my cool pad -- my cool, empty pad. Cue the violins.
I decided to walk over the Ha' Penny Bride, 'cause is sure is purty, and it's lit up quite nicely at night, with the period lanterns at the top of the arches reflecting brightly off the shiny white paint below. This bridge is always really busy, with people stopping to take photos, or pausing to look down the Liffey in either direction. And there are often a number of people sitting in sleeping bags, trying to gather some change, and, I think, stay safely out of the dark and pissed-filled back alleys of the city. I think I have some kind of internalized bougey middle class guilt, because everytime I see someone who appears homeless, I feel terrible. But most of the time, I do nothing about it. And then I feel more terrible, and I really have no idea what the whole thing is about, but aside from giving people change every now and then, I do not interact. I want to interact, but I don't. And I don't like myself in these moments. But being in a new place, and in a remarkably new and porous headspace in general, all I could think is - cripes, if I am feeling low and lonely, how must these people feel? Talk about isolation. I walked by one young woman who was huddled in what looked like a damp sleeping bag, and I looked down and smiled, but I kept going. I got down onto the sidewalk, and just stopped. What was my fear? I felt like I wanted to connect, but there is something in me that tells me to shut off that feeling - to preserve something. Feck it, I went into the convenience store (not sure which one, but certainly a SparCentraLondis variety), bought two bags of chips with markedly different flavours, and headed back to the bridge. As I approached her, I felt I had to make as if this wasn't planned - I just happened to be walking by with two bags of chips, and I happened to think about offering her one. What is this BS? Why the performance? I don't know.
So I kind of paused, held out both, she scanned the labels, and chose the plain one (good choice, the salt and vinegar ones nearly took the roof off my mouth). I crouched down, and we ate the chips, chatting casually about nothing, the way one does with strangers on a bridge in the middle of a city. Except I was probably saying dumb and obvious things like "do you have somewhere to go," etc. But here is the thing that killed me. I pulled 5 Euro out of my pocket and handed it to her, and she looked at me with a perplexed face and said "Are you sure?" And all I could say was, "Yes, yes, I am sure," thinking how little 5 Euros really was to me, and absolutely taken aback by her question. I don't know why she asked me that. Was it, "Are you sure you can spare this, because it's so much more than the 20 cent coins I usually get," or was it "Are you sure you really want to give this to me - is it worth it?" Or something else that I haven't thought of. But I was really moved by the impulse, and so so so glad that I finally stopped to chat. I eventually got up and wished her well, and as I walked home, my head was ajumble with thoughts of my theatre-going and her bridge-living. My funky leather jacket and her damp sleeping bad. My loneliness, and whatever it is she must be feeling. It's never going to make any sense to me, so I came home and did some research, and I just sent off my application to volunteer with Simon Community. It's about frigging time.
Thursday, September 17, 2009
From one green place to another
I'm off to the Inishowen Peninsula on a short research trip, so more beautiful photos of green places will be arriving on the blog next week. But it's been a busy week getting down to work and planning out what I will see at the Dublin Theatre Festival, which starts next week, and coincidentally (for me) boasts Quebec's Robert Lepage as one of the big-name headliners...
But I realise I haven't posted on the blog in a while. I have so many quirky things to report, but they are going to have to wait. Until I return, here are some more photos of the hike at Howth - I went again last weekend, and had a beautiful sunny day, so I decided to do the longer walk, which should have been a 10km loop. But I got a bit lost on the way, and didn't loop back towards Howth when I should have, so I ended up at Sutton Cross, which is the town one DART stop closer to Dublin. It was a really long hike, and while I think the cliff walk before you get to the lighthouse is more awe-inspiring, the part after the lighthouse has its own charm.
Here's another, clearer pic of the walk up to the lighthouse. But the time you see this, you're most of the way there:
And here is a view once you've come around Howth head. Not as stunning, right?
My favourite part about the backend of the hike is that it brings you to this beach, which includes a rather treacherous set of stairs/rocky path combo to bring you down. I saw a family there with kids and a stroller, and I have no idea how they got it down...
And here is what the rock formations look like at beach level. I stepped into the water, and it was surprisingly mild - I expected to get the freezing-pain feeling in my feet that I first experienced as a child at Cape Cod, but I was able to stay in it for a while. On a warmer day (haha, as if), I might even attempt a swim.
I paused for a little camera-timer action because I love this heather-strewn landscape. A friend pointed out that this is my 'Maureen O'Hara in The Quiet Man' pose, which wasn't the intention. It was actually a test shot to see if I was standing in the frame...
See you shortly. And don't be afraid to use the comment function below - I have no idea if anyone is actually reading this thing.
But I realise I haven't posted on the blog in a while. I have so many quirky things to report, but they are going to have to wait. Until I return, here are some more photos of the hike at Howth - I went again last weekend, and had a beautiful sunny day, so I decided to do the longer walk, which should have been a 10km loop. But I got a bit lost on the way, and didn't loop back towards Howth when I should have, so I ended up at Sutton Cross, which is the town one DART stop closer to Dublin. It was a really long hike, and while I think the cliff walk before you get to the lighthouse is more awe-inspiring, the part after the lighthouse has its own charm.
Here's another, clearer pic of the walk up to the lighthouse. But the time you see this, you're most of the way there:
And here is a view once you've come around Howth head. Not as stunning, right?
My favourite part about the backend of the hike is that it brings you to this beach, which includes a rather treacherous set of stairs/rocky path combo to bring you down. I saw a family there with kids and a stroller, and I have no idea how they got it down...
And here is what the rock formations look like at beach level. I stepped into the water, and it was surprisingly mild - I expected to get the freezing-pain feeling in my feet that I first experienced as a child at Cape Cod, but I was able to stay in it for a while. On a warmer day (haha, as if), I might even attempt a swim.
I paused for a little camera-timer action because I love this heather-strewn landscape. A friend pointed out that this is my 'Maureen O'Hara in The Quiet Man' pose, which wasn't the intention. It was actually a test shot to see if I was standing in the frame...
See you shortly. And don't be afraid to use the comment function below - I have no idea if anyone is actually reading this thing.
Saturday, September 5, 2009
Fringe Festival Review: Point Blank
Image source: http://www.liveartwork.com/dvd/current%20issue6.htm
The Dublin Fringe Festival opened tonight, and knowing nothing about most of the companies, venues, or performers involved, I spent a few hours in a cafe pouring over the program book in an attempt to find performances of interest. It's quite a new thing for me to choose shows without knowing any of the above information - as a somewhat professional theatre-goer, I am usually armed with a lot more information. But in some ways it is a relief to come at things so purely, without preconceptions. I might end up seeing some real groaners, but then again, I won't really feel compelled to see anything because I know someone in it, or I've seen that company's work before.
Tonight I saw Point Blank, written and directed by Edit Kaldor, and performed by Nada Gambier. It was at the upstairs space of the Project Arts Centre (which, quite brilliantly, is also right around the corner from my new flat, the Irish Film Archive, and the Farmer's Market -- have I scored, or what?). The performance was excellent, and concept deceptively simple: a young woman finishes highschool and travels to find out what she wants to do in life. She takes thousands of pictures using a powerful zoom lens. The pictures are voyeuristic -- couples kissing on balconies, an old woman eating by herself inside her apartment -- but the young woman's interest in them is introspective and philosophical. By showing us the picutres, and discussing the taxonomy she is trying to create around them, Point Blank provides a very thoughtful meditation on the everyday, which, of course, is more profound than we usually want to believe. I highly recommend it to anyone in Dublin, and I believe it is also touring to other Fringe Festivals.
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