Last night was audition night, and we now have officially cast Irma Vep. Jak and I guffawed heartily throughout - none of that poker-faced professionalism for us! It was so great so hear the lines spoken aloud by voices other than our own, and most amusing to watch the chaps auditioning drape themselves about one another as they endeavoured to be man and wife.
And this Sunday coming I shall be going up to sing at Wembley, oh yes. It's going to be a long old day, but singing with over 6,000 others is going to be summat special to be sure. Note to self: remember ticket.
On a less positive note, I have had yet another rejection - this time from Woman's Weekly. As ever, I shall not be disheartened and the unloved story will be stuck back in the post to someone else. I will not be defeated!
Showing posts with label Theatre. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Theatre. Show all posts
Monday, 9 May 2011
Thursday, 7 April 2011
The Hunt for the Grey Wolf (and other stories...)
So, it’s been ages and ages and ages and ages and ages. I’m sorry. But golly gosh how busy I have been!
Where once there were just a couple of 7ft mummies, there is now even more weirdness. There is currently a wooden alligator (or crocodile, the jury’s out) living under my coffee table. Let me rewind a tad and fill you in.
There has been much in the way of organising and arranging various quirky oddities for Irma Vep. As I may or may not have mentioned, there are many literary and film references within the play, with the majority of films alluded to either being Hitchcock or of that ilk, or B-movies. So Jak and I have decided to draw heavily on that influence for our set and costumes, and as such we’ve designed everything to be entirely in shades of grey like a black & white movie (apart from a brief sojourn into Glorious Technicolor in act 2).
We also want everything, in a nod to all things gothic horror, to be slightly sinister. The man of the house is an Egyptologist and one of life’s globetrotters, so we want his drawing room to be full of souvenirs from his travels, but all of them need to be just a little bit menacing.
This, we are certain, is a marvellous idea – clever, witty, a little bit unusual, even if we do say so ourselves. What we hadn’t thought about was how tricky it was going to be to dress the set and find props that are suitably disquieting whilst only being black, white or grey in colour. As such, most of the bits and pieces we have found, we are having to paint, and anything we can’t find, we are having to make.
This is fine, it’s fun and interesting and it’s stretching my creative capabilities, but it means that our houses are full of peculiar items and in my case, a ‘craft corner’ overflowing with pots of paint and bags of ripped newspaper, and a fridge filled with tinfoil-wrapped crockery containing various shades of grey paint, a tub of wallpaper paste and a large lump of clay. Not a lot of room for food. I will tell you about my various crafting exploits shortly, but first to explain Gregory, the crocodator (or alligile if you prefer).
It all started when we were trying to find a wolf. All we wanted was a stuffed grey wolf. A simple ask, or so we thought, but it turns out they’re rather like hen’s teeth. Between us we have tried taxidermists, prop hire companies all around the UK, various museums, the National Theatre props store, and I even spent a useful half hour on the phone with the props mistress at the Drama Centre, but all to no avail. Even a trawl around the wonderful junk (treasure) shops of Hastings came to nought. The hardened treaure-traders of the town all sucked air through their teeth, hunched their shoulders and shook their heads in the manner of a man looking, with some pleasure, at another chap’s kaput car engine. No words were needed, their gestures said it all – ‘you’ll be lucky’.
So we gave up.
And then we saw Gregory. It was love at first sight. We may not have a wolf, we will have to resort to our Plan B, which is funny, possibly funnier, but still not our Plan A, but we do have an alligile. With a little bit of wood stain and TLC he will make a marvellous footrest for the man of the house – jaws yawning in a threatening manner.
Another set dressing idea is to have many masks hanging on the walls, from around the world – African, Asian, Hindu, Native American, they’re all there – but again, none will be overly friendly in appearance. Obviously there was no way that we were going to be able to buy any of these so I am making them out of papier mâché and clay. I have several in various stages of completion on my dining table, and these are another two that I’ve completed already. Don’t laugh at my painting skills, I am not one of life’s painters – just remember, no-one’s going to get close enough to examine the minutiae!
Another thing I’ve had to make is a hat – out of a net curtain. We have decided to style one of the characters as something of a Miss Havisham - bitter, bridal and a little bit dusty. Her dress is being made by our costumier, but the hat fell to us. It needed a veil, hence the net curtain. For a while, it did indeed look like a hat with a net curtain stuck to the front, so I pulled everything apart, cut everything up with scissors in a brutal, no-nonsense, irreversible fashion, and started from scratch. Here is the hat. Again, in the same way that I am not a painter, I am not a milliner, but it should serve its purpose.
On a non-theatre note, I have written some more stories and have three out in the world at the moment – one with Woman’s Weekly, one with The Weekly News and one with a competition.
And I have finally got Hearts & Finds on Etsy up and running and have also got some of my products in the gift shop I work in too, which is most exciting! And I’ve sold some – which is even more exciting!
Where once there were just a couple of 7ft mummies, there is now even more weirdness. There is currently a wooden alligator (or crocodile, the jury’s out) living under my coffee table. Let me rewind a tad and fill you in.
There has been much in the way of organising and arranging various quirky oddities for Irma Vep. As I may or may not have mentioned, there are many literary and film references within the play, with the majority of films alluded to either being Hitchcock or of that ilk, or B-movies. So Jak and I have decided to draw heavily on that influence for our set and costumes, and as such we’ve designed everything to be entirely in shades of grey like a black & white movie (apart from a brief sojourn into Glorious Technicolor in act 2).
We also want everything, in a nod to all things gothic horror, to be slightly sinister. The man of the house is an Egyptologist and one of life’s globetrotters, so we want his drawing room to be full of souvenirs from his travels, but all of them need to be just a little bit menacing.
This, we are certain, is a marvellous idea – clever, witty, a little bit unusual, even if we do say so ourselves. What we hadn’t thought about was how tricky it was going to be to dress the set and find props that are suitably disquieting whilst only being black, white or grey in colour. As such, most of the bits and pieces we have found, we are having to paint, and anything we can’t find, we are having to make.
This is fine, it’s fun and interesting and it’s stretching my creative capabilities, but it means that our houses are full of peculiar items and in my case, a ‘craft corner’ overflowing with pots of paint and bags of ripped newspaper, and a fridge filled with tinfoil-wrapped crockery containing various shades of grey paint, a tub of wallpaper paste and a large lump of clay. Not a lot of room for food. I will tell you about my various crafting exploits shortly, but first to explain Gregory, the crocodator (or alligile if you prefer).
It all started when we were trying to find a wolf. All we wanted was a stuffed grey wolf. A simple ask, or so we thought, but it turns out they’re rather like hen’s teeth. Between us we have tried taxidermists, prop hire companies all around the UK, various museums, the National Theatre props store, and I even spent a useful half hour on the phone with the props mistress at the Drama Centre, but all to no avail. Even a trawl around the wonderful junk (treasure) shops of Hastings came to nought. The hardened treaure-traders of the town all sucked air through their teeth, hunched their shoulders and shook their heads in the manner of a man looking, with some pleasure, at another chap’s kaput car engine. No words were needed, their gestures said it all – ‘you’ll be lucky’.
So we gave up.
And then we saw Gregory. It was love at first sight. We may not have a wolf, we will have to resort to our Plan B, which is funny, possibly funnier, but still not our Plan A, but we do have an alligile. With a little bit of wood stain and TLC he will make a marvellous footrest for the man of the house – jaws yawning in a threatening manner.
Another set dressing idea is to have many masks hanging on the walls, from around the world – African, Asian, Hindu, Native American, they’re all there – but again, none will be overly friendly in appearance. Obviously there was no way that we were going to be able to buy any of these so I am making them out of papier mâché and clay. I have several in various stages of completion on my dining table, and these are another two that I’ve completed already. Don’t laugh at my painting skills, I am not one of life’s painters – just remember, no-one’s going to get close enough to examine the minutiae!
Another thing I’ve had to make is a hat – out of a net curtain. We have decided to style one of the characters as something of a Miss Havisham - bitter, bridal and a little bit dusty. Her dress is being made by our costumier, but the hat fell to us. It needed a veil, hence the net curtain. For a while, it did indeed look like a hat with a net curtain stuck to the front, so I pulled everything apart, cut everything up with scissors in a brutal, no-nonsense, irreversible fashion, and started from scratch. Here is the hat. Again, in the same way that I am not a painter, I am not a milliner, but it should serve its purpose.
The most recent task Jak and I have undertaken is some publicity photos for the next theatre What’s On magazine. I have to write about the play but we needed a directors' photo to go alongside the blurb, and we decided that we wanted to hint at the content of the play without giving too much away. So we decided to have our photo taken in a Hitchcock style – black and white with lots of shadow. And to keep it as tongue-in-cheek as possible, we borrowed a couple of fur coats from the costume department, slapped on some 1930s make-up and got a fellow actress and hairdresser to style our hair. Mousse + hot rollers + hairspray = hair helmet. Here is the finished result!
So there you have it, that’s the latest in the Irma Vep Land. Next thing is to finalise the artwork for the poster and programme, but that’s next week. This weekend, between making masks, I shall mostly be painting my kitchen, just for something different to do!
On a non-theatre note, I have written some more stories and have three out in the world at the moment – one with Woman’s Weekly, one with The Weekly News and one with a competition.
And I have finally got Hearts & Finds on Etsy up and running and have also got some of my products in the gift shop I work in too, which is most exciting! And I’ve sold some – which is even more exciting!
Monday, 21 February 2011
Mummy, mummy, mummy
Woe is me. I’ve had a couple of rejection letters back from People’s Friend and Take a Break, and I now eagerly await my rejection letter from Woman’s Weekly, which I’m sure is just days away! Back to the drawing board – I need to conjure up another story or two from my flagging imagination and whisk them out into the world.
I had a peculiar yet productive weekend. Sunday was a day of conveyor belt pattern cutting for the crafty items I’m making. I have called my little sideline Hearts & Finds (because I like making heart-shaped things and I decorate them with stuff what I have found – see what I did there?!), and have set up a shopfront on Etsy.com – although it’s entirely empty at present. I shouldn’t be too long before I have some completed items to upload for sale.
And on Saturday Jak and I had a very useful meeting with Charlie, the young artist who’s helping us with our Irma Vep publicity and programme. He was splendidly enthusiastic and I am feeling most positive about the artwork aspect.
And on Saturday Jak and I had a very useful meeting with Charlie, the young artist who’s helping us with our Irma Vep publicity and programme. He was splendidly enthusiastic and I am feeling most positive about the artwork aspect.
The other thing Jak and I did on Saturday, was start creating two sarcophaguses (or should that be sarcophagi?). Having made back boards out of 7’ tall sheets of cardboard, I wrapped myself liberally in chicken wire to create a shape and then lay on the cardboard whilst Jak staple-gunned the wire in place around me. For any drama-exercise enthusiasts out there, this is a much better trust game than falling backwards and hoping someone catches you.
So anyway, once we had built our ‘skeletons’ we set about papier-mâchéing them – slimy work and I got through several pairs of rubbery gloves. But even if I do say so myself, by the time we’d finished they looked pretty darned good. We’ll have to keep building them up over the next few weeks and eventually, once we’re happy with the shape, we’ll start on the painting. For the next few months Jak has to live with two enormous mummy coffins in her living room. I imagine she’ll enjoy the company, but I’m as certain as can be, she won’t share her KitKats.
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The middle |
 |
| The beginning |
 |
| The slime |
Monday, 7 February 2011
Nibbly
My life feels full to bursting at the minute. In an ideal world I would be able to organise my days in neat little lists, lots of straight lines and lashings of order. But it never seems to work out that way. I currently have several little nibbly bits going on that I can’t pin down in my brain, but still, better full than empty, better busy than bored.
Nibbly bit No.1: I have a new client. This is quite exciting as I have been gradually doing more and more hours for a local newspaper and, although this is great because it’s relatively guaranteed income and has become my financial bread and butter, I had recently started to feel like all my freelance eggs were nestling in just the one basket. So this new client is a glossy local magazine and I’m writing their property page for the next couple of issues. That’s why it’s nibbly. It’s not certain that after these two articles that I will get any more work from them. I hope I will, but you never know.
Nibbly bit No.2: I finally seem to be getting my writing mojo back – about flipping time! I hesitate to use the word ‘rattle’ as it sounds hasty and rough around the edges, but last week I did indeed ‘rattle’ off a short story as I surfed on a rocking wave of inspiration. I posted it on one of the writers’ forums I’m on and received great feedback. So I tidied it up based on everyone’s critiques and this afternoon will be sending it out to Take a Break to see if they’ll take if for Fiction Feast. I also have two other stories that I sent out last year that were rejected (leaving me not defeated but momentarily deflated), so I’m also posting those out to Woman’s Weekly and People’s Friend. So this is nibbly because nothing’s guaranteed and I have to sit on my hands and wait to hear from others. No control.
Nibbly bit No.3: I have joined a choir. Oh yes, because writing and theatre just isn’t enough for me, I’ve become a member of Rock Choir. It’s great fun, although there is an awful lot of ‘dancing’ – you know the thing, gospel swaying and clapping, and a little bit of salsa stepping thrown in for good measure. Thing is, I have two left feet. Try as I might, there is a connection missing between my brain and my feet, so any kind of dance movement invariably ends in me treading on a neighbour’s toe or simply falling over. But I’m prepared to stick it out because the singing is fab and the people are nice and the choir master is a talented loon, which I appreciate immensely, and in May we’re going to be singing at Wembley. Oh yes. But this is nibbly because at some point I’m probably going to have to stop choir so I can concentrate on Irma Vep rehearsals, but I don’t know for definite and I don’t know precisely when, and I don’t think I really want to.
Nibbly bit No.4: Speaking of Irma Vep, things are now truly underway. We have enlisted our costume maker and will be accompanying her at some point to a fabric warehouse in London – muchos funos. I have, I hope, also enlisted the talents of a young artist to design the artwork for posters and programmes, but we haven’t had full discussions yet. Jak and I have started making a list of set dressing and flats we need to order, and know a handy man with a handy brush ready to paint them and make them look glorious. And we have found a wig big enough for a man’s head – it’s not the right colour or style, but it’s progress. But this is all nibbly because auditions aren’t until May so we can’t firm up many of the things we want to firm up – actors, for example.
Nibbly bit No.5: Jak and I went to the 2012 planning meeting for the theatre a week or so ago. This is just all-round NIBBLY because we put forward six plays we wouldn’t mind directing, but we haven’t read any of them yet, and we haven’t even started rehearsals for 2011 yet, and it’s just really difficult to think ahead to next year when this one’s only just started.
Nibbly bit No.6: You may recall that last year Jak and I had a little sewing lesson, in order to know how to use a machine so we can fix costume boo-boos during Irma Vep rehearsals. Well, the other day I had another sewing lesson and learned how to make cushion covers, so now I have many cushion covers. And this got me thinking about making things to sell for a little bit of extra income, and so I spent the weekend making heart-shaped lavender bags, which are looking pretty good even if I do say so myself. But this is nibbly because I can’t decide where to sell them. There’s a website I found that I can set up a little shop on, and I could try to see if the lady who owns the gift shop I work in on Tuesdays would take a few, and if she did then I could see if other shops might take them, and I could also maybe get a stall at craft fairs. But I don’t know yet, and I need reassurance from someone in the world that they’re good enough to sell anyway. Nibbly, nibbly, nibbly.
So there you have it, my nibbly life. If anyone has any tips on how to un-nibbly it, I’d be more than happy to hear from you.
Also, on a little extra positive note - Darker Shores swept the board winning various awards at the theatre's end of year 'awards', including best set and best technical - I'm sure it won other things too but I can't remember exactly what, it did remarkably well anyway. And I won best actress for my role in Skylight! How thrilling is that?! So, all's well that ends well.
Nibbly bit No.1: I have a new client. This is quite exciting as I have been gradually doing more and more hours for a local newspaper and, although this is great because it’s relatively guaranteed income and has become my financial bread and butter, I had recently started to feel like all my freelance eggs were nestling in just the one basket. So this new client is a glossy local magazine and I’m writing their property page for the next couple of issues. That’s why it’s nibbly. It’s not certain that after these two articles that I will get any more work from them. I hope I will, but you never know.
Nibbly bit No.2: I finally seem to be getting my writing mojo back – about flipping time! I hesitate to use the word ‘rattle’ as it sounds hasty and rough around the edges, but last week I did indeed ‘rattle’ off a short story as I surfed on a rocking wave of inspiration. I posted it on one of the writers’ forums I’m on and received great feedback. So I tidied it up based on everyone’s critiques and this afternoon will be sending it out to Take a Break to see if they’ll take if for Fiction Feast. I also have two other stories that I sent out last year that were rejected (leaving me not defeated but momentarily deflated), so I’m also posting those out to Woman’s Weekly and People’s Friend. So this is nibbly because nothing’s guaranteed and I have to sit on my hands and wait to hear from others. No control.
Nibbly bit No.3: I have joined a choir. Oh yes, because writing and theatre just isn’t enough for me, I’ve become a member of Rock Choir. It’s great fun, although there is an awful lot of ‘dancing’ – you know the thing, gospel swaying and clapping, and a little bit of salsa stepping thrown in for good measure. Thing is, I have two left feet. Try as I might, there is a connection missing between my brain and my feet, so any kind of dance movement invariably ends in me treading on a neighbour’s toe or simply falling over. But I’m prepared to stick it out because the singing is fab and the people are nice and the choir master is a talented loon, which I appreciate immensely, and in May we’re going to be singing at Wembley. Oh yes. But this is nibbly because at some point I’m probably going to have to stop choir so I can concentrate on Irma Vep rehearsals, but I don’t know for definite and I don’t know precisely when, and I don’t think I really want to.
Nibbly bit No.4: Speaking of Irma Vep, things are now truly underway. We have enlisted our costume maker and will be accompanying her at some point to a fabric warehouse in London – muchos funos. I have, I hope, also enlisted the talents of a young artist to design the artwork for posters and programmes, but we haven’t had full discussions yet. Jak and I have started making a list of set dressing and flats we need to order, and know a handy man with a handy brush ready to paint them and make them look glorious. And we have found a wig big enough for a man’s head – it’s not the right colour or style, but it’s progress. But this is all nibbly because auditions aren’t until May so we can’t firm up many of the things we want to firm up – actors, for example.
Nibbly bit No.5: Jak and I went to the 2012 planning meeting for the theatre a week or so ago. This is just all-round NIBBLY because we put forward six plays we wouldn’t mind directing, but we haven’t read any of them yet, and we haven’t even started rehearsals for 2011 yet, and it’s just really difficult to think ahead to next year when this one’s only just started.
Nibbly bit No.6: You may recall that last year Jak and I had a little sewing lesson, in order to know how to use a machine so we can fix costume boo-boos during Irma Vep rehearsals. Well, the other day I had another sewing lesson and learned how to make cushion covers, so now I have many cushion covers. And this got me thinking about making things to sell for a little bit of extra income, and so I spent the weekend making heart-shaped lavender bags, which are looking pretty good even if I do say so myself. But this is nibbly because I can’t decide where to sell them. There’s a website I found that I can set up a little shop on, and I could try to see if the lady who owns the gift shop I work in on Tuesdays would take a few, and if she did then I could see if other shops might take them, and I could also maybe get a stall at craft fairs. But I don’t know yet, and I need reassurance from someone in the world that they’re good enough to sell anyway. Nibbly, nibbly, nibbly.
So there you have it, my nibbly life. If anyone has any tips on how to un-nibbly it, I’d be more than happy to hear from you.
Also, on a little extra positive note - Darker Shores swept the board winning various awards at the theatre's end of year 'awards', including best set and best technical - I'm sure it won other things too but I can't remember exactly what, it did remarkably well anyway. And I won best actress for my role in Skylight! How thrilling is that?! So, all's well that ends well.
Friday, 14 January 2011
Beware the Boiled Sweet Brigade
I’ve just been reading an old Shenton’s View blog post for The Stage, about audiences, and how integral they can be to a performance. He was looking at it from a fellow-audience-member point of view – clearly, in one evening, he suffered from the ‘cougher’ and from a couple of ‘talkers’ and ‘gigglers’. He found it so off-putting he requested to move seats during the interval.
Imagine then, what it’s like to be an actor with distractions like that from the audience. There is, for example, as well as the aforementioned offenders, the ‘boiled sweet brigade’. These are the folk of a certain age who will usually attend on a Tuesday or Wednesday night, or a matinee if there is one, they may have a rug to put over their knees while they enjoy the entertainment, and they will have brought a lovely bag of Werther’s Originals to suck on. There is little more off-putting during a quiet, emotion-ridden scene for an actor, than the sound of a boiled sweet being tentatively unwrapped. It takes forever and is never nearly as quiet as the opener assumes.
There are also the ‘whisperers’ – possibly worse even than ‘talkers’ although it’s a fine line. ‘Whisperers’, certain that they can’t be heard, may well share a running commentary alongside the action on stage, and fail to realise that when the house lights go down and the beginners take the stage, that it is time to shut up.
Audiences also feed off one another, although it’s unlikely they realise that they do. I’m always grateful when I’m in a play that isn’t billed as a comedy, but may have the occasional humorous line, to have a ‘laugher’ in the audience. This is someone who guffaws heartily at the slightest suggestion of a joke, and so confident and vocal is their amusement that the rest of the audience loosens up and is brave enough to laugh too.
In the recent production of Darker Shores that I ASM’d on, there was one particular performance where the audience, thanks to adverse weather, was less than expected and therefore somewhat scattered about the auditorium. There were no ‘laughers’ and due to the dispersal of the audience members, no one had the confidence to even chuckle. The actors literally had to battle against the silence that assaulted them at every turn and it was exhausting.
Then there is the opposite of that. I experienced, during my recent run of Skylight, a couple of audiences who were so involved I wondered if I’d wandered into a pantomime. At every performance I was gratified by the stillness and silence – boiled sweets were on hold, the ‘fidgeters’ were unmoving in their seats – they were truly engaged at every performance. Then on one occasion, when my character went to check her one-bar fire was working, I had two people call out “it is on!”. On another night, after my most ranting monologue, a woman in the audience half-whispered, half-shouted “Yes! Great!”. This is a phenomenon I’ve never encountered before but it amused me greatly! They, whoever they were, will go down in the annals of my most-favourite audiences of all time.
Imagine then, what it’s like to be an actor with distractions like that from the audience. There is, for example, as well as the aforementioned offenders, the ‘boiled sweet brigade’. These are the folk of a certain age who will usually attend on a Tuesday or Wednesday night, or a matinee if there is one, they may have a rug to put over their knees while they enjoy the entertainment, and they will have brought a lovely bag of Werther’s Originals to suck on. There is little more off-putting during a quiet, emotion-ridden scene for an actor, than the sound of a boiled sweet being tentatively unwrapped. It takes forever and is never nearly as quiet as the opener assumes.
There are also the ‘whisperers’ – possibly worse even than ‘talkers’ although it’s a fine line. ‘Whisperers’, certain that they can’t be heard, may well share a running commentary alongside the action on stage, and fail to realise that when the house lights go down and the beginners take the stage, that it is time to shut up.
Audiences also feed off one another, although it’s unlikely they realise that they do. I’m always grateful when I’m in a play that isn’t billed as a comedy, but may have the occasional humorous line, to have a ‘laugher’ in the audience. This is someone who guffaws heartily at the slightest suggestion of a joke, and so confident and vocal is their amusement that the rest of the audience loosens up and is brave enough to laugh too.
In the recent production of Darker Shores that I ASM’d on, there was one particular performance where the audience, thanks to adverse weather, was less than expected and therefore somewhat scattered about the auditorium. There were no ‘laughers’ and due to the dispersal of the audience members, no one had the confidence to even chuckle. The actors literally had to battle against the silence that assaulted them at every turn and it was exhausting.
Then there is the opposite of that. I experienced, during my recent run of Skylight, a couple of audiences who were so involved I wondered if I’d wandered into a pantomime. At every performance I was gratified by the stillness and silence – boiled sweets were on hold, the ‘fidgeters’ were unmoving in their seats – they were truly engaged at every performance. Then on one occasion, when my character went to check her one-bar fire was working, I had two people call out “it is on!”. On another night, after my most ranting monologue, a woman in the audience half-whispered, half-shouted “Yes! Great!”. This is a phenomenon I’ve never encountered before but it amused me greatly! They, whoever they were, will go down in the annals of my most-favourite audiences of all time.
Saturday, 18 December 2010
The show must go on
You know that saying, 'it never rains, but it pours'? You also know the one - 'a baptism of fire'? Well both these wise old adages are perfect for Jak's and my introduction to the world of backstage crew.
During final dress rehearsal for Darker Shores, the legs of a wooden doll (a prop) weirdly and randomly fell off and landed on the floor with a clatter backstage, during a quiet moment. Jak and I clapped our hands to our mouths and looked at one another with wide eyes - 'oops!' we were both thinking. One week later, and we are both looking back fondly on the time when a doll's legs fell off - such a small and insignificant mishap. Oh how we laugh when we think of that crazy, crazy day.
This last week, during performances, we have had the lights brought up on set too soon, so we were still on stage doing a reset, a door on the set broke and wouldn't open at an important moment, and a large scenery truck decided to get stuck fast so we couldn't move it onto the stage. More troubling than the doll's legs, but still, we kept calm and carried on, because that is what you do.
Then last night, thanks to 'adverse weather conditions' as they are politely known, one of our leading men got stuck in traffic on his way to the theatre. "Did he arrive in time?" I hear you cry. No, dear reader, he did not. Eventually we decided to bring the curtain up anyway, slightly late, dressed a willing yet nervous director in the character's costume, handed him a script (which we hoped he would be able to see without his specs) and with a hearty amount of Blitz spirit and back slapping, shoved him onto the stage. He did very well, he has, after all, been directing the play for the last few months so knows it inside and out. But as I have mentioned before in other posts, there are magic tricks in this play, which he can't do, certainly not holding a script, so things were never going to go quite according to plan.
Eventually the missing actor arrived in a flurry of panic and snow, only to discover once half undressed, that he had no costume. So then commenced the most bizarre moment I've had for a many a year, as two grown men stripped to their pants in the dark of backstage and swapped clothes in a frantic high-speed manner. The actor resumed his rightful place on stage to applause from the audience, and the director was packed off for a stiff sherry in the bar. All's well that ends well, to coin another phrase.
The show has been cancelled tonight, due to those pesky adverse weather conditions, so I have a quiet evening planned of curry and Strictly - so much tamer than panicky men in pants. Hopefully all unwanted meteorological phenomenon will have cleared enough by tomorrow so the matinee can go ahead as planned.
During final dress rehearsal for Darker Shores, the legs of a wooden doll (a prop) weirdly and randomly fell off and landed on the floor with a clatter backstage, during a quiet moment. Jak and I clapped our hands to our mouths and looked at one another with wide eyes - 'oops!' we were both thinking. One week later, and we are both looking back fondly on the time when a doll's legs fell off - such a small and insignificant mishap. Oh how we laugh when we think of that crazy, crazy day.
This last week, during performances, we have had the lights brought up on set too soon, so we were still on stage doing a reset, a door on the set broke and wouldn't open at an important moment, and a large scenery truck decided to get stuck fast so we couldn't move it onto the stage. More troubling than the doll's legs, but still, we kept calm and carried on, because that is what you do.
Then last night, thanks to 'adverse weather conditions' as they are politely known, one of our leading men got stuck in traffic on his way to the theatre. "Did he arrive in time?" I hear you cry. No, dear reader, he did not. Eventually we decided to bring the curtain up anyway, slightly late, dressed a willing yet nervous director in the character's costume, handed him a script (which we hoped he would be able to see without his specs) and with a hearty amount of Blitz spirit and back slapping, shoved him onto the stage. He did very well, he has, after all, been directing the play for the last few months so knows it inside and out. But as I have mentioned before in other posts, there are magic tricks in this play, which he can't do, certainly not holding a script, so things were never going to go quite according to plan.
Eventually the missing actor arrived in a flurry of panic and snow, only to discover once half undressed, that he had no costume. So then commenced the most bizarre moment I've had for a many a year, as two grown men stripped to their pants in the dark of backstage and swapped clothes in a frantic high-speed manner. The actor resumed his rightful place on stage to applause from the audience, and the director was packed off for a stiff sherry in the bar. All's well that ends well, to coin another phrase.
The show has been cancelled tonight, due to those pesky adverse weather conditions, so I have a quiet evening planned of curry and Strictly - so much tamer than panicky men in pants. Hopefully all unwanted meteorological phenomenon will have cleared enough by tomorrow so the matinee can go ahead as planned.
Monday, 13 December 2010
The ghost of Christmas present
Well, I am now all up to speed on the backstage happenings of Darker Shores, which opens tomorrow night, and after a six-hour rehearsal yesterday I think we’re pretty much there. It’s final dress tonight, so Jak and I can iron out our final set-moving wrinkles.
Darker Shores is a Gothic ghost story set in the 1870s. Professor Stokes takes lodgings at the Sea House on a desolate stretch of the East Sussex coast, but the troubled history of the house comes to the fore with a series of disturbing and mysterious events. He enlists the help of an American spiritualist to try to find out what or who is haunting the house and whether it can ever be cleansed of the vengeful spirit.
Trickery is used to add to the mystery and spine-tingly drama, and the director, Duncan, got a professional magician in during the rehearsal process to teach the cast some cunning illusions. I can tell you no more as they were sworn to secrecy, and frankly, I wouldn’t want to ruin the fun anyway. Suffice to say – it’s all very clever and should keep the audience on their toes!
Jak is stage manager for the production and is therefore in charge of the backstage magic, and I am her trusty (I hope!) second in command – we have to move scenery, reset furniture and props during blackouts and, best fun of all, create a spooky atmosphere with the help of smoke machines. The trick with these is to puff enough smoke to set the scene, but not so much that you gas the cast, as Jak discovered briefly yesterday! There’s nothing quite so scary as a ghost with a hacking cough!
The writer, Michael Punter, came to rehearsal yesterday and seemed pleased with what everyone has achieved. I can take no credit for any of it as I literally only joined the team a week ago, but they’ve clearly all worked so hard and have produced a rather marvellous play that, I think, won’t fail to get the hairs on the back of people’s necks standing on end.
And Jak and I, both seasoned actors but neither of us ever having worked on the backstage technical side of things before, are loving it! We are utterly involved in the play, we get to help, in a small way, to make it what it is, but we don’t have to remember any lines! It’s truly wonderful – why didn’t we ever think of this before!
Production photos were only taken yesterday, so when I can get my hands on a couple I will post them up here so you can appreciate the ghoulishness and Duncan’s outstanding set.
Darker Shores is a Gothic ghost story set in the 1870s. Professor Stokes takes lodgings at the Sea House on a desolate stretch of the East Sussex coast, but the troubled history of the house comes to the fore with a series of disturbing and mysterious events. He enlists the help of an American spiritualist to try to find out what or who is haunting the house and whether it can ever be cleansed of the vengeful spirit.
Trickery is used to add to the mystery and spine-tingly drama, and the director, Duncan, got a professional magician in during the rehearsal process to teach the cast some cunning illusions. I can tell you no more as they were sworn to secrecy, and frankly, I wouldn’t want to ruin the fun anyway. Suffice to say – it’s all very clever and should keep the audience on their toes!
Jak is stage manager for the production and is therefore in charge of the backstage magic, and I am her trusty (I hope!) second in command – we have to move scenery, reset furniture and props during blackouts and, best fun of all, create a spooky atmosphere with the help of smoke machines. The trick with these is to puff enough smoke to set the scene, but not so much that you gas the cast, as Jak discovered briefly yesterday! There’s nothing quite so scary as a ghost with a hacking cough!
The writer, Michael Punter, came to rehearsal yesterday and seemed pleased with what everyone has achieved. I can take no credit for any of it as I literally only joined the team a week ago, but they’ve clearly all worked so hard and have produced a rather marvellous play that, I think, won’t fail to get the hairs on the back of people’s necks standing on end.
And Jak and I, both seasoned actors but neither of us ever having worked on the backstage technical side of things before, are loving it! We are utterly involved in the play, we get to help, in a small way, to make it what it is, but we don’t have to remember any lines! It’s truly wonderful – why didn’t we ever think of this before!
Production photos were only taken yesterday, so when I can get my hands on a couple I will post them up here so you can appreciate the ghoulishness and Duncan’s outstanding set.
 |
| (L to R) Mel, Mark, Fred and Matt get to grips with the seance scene in rehearsals |
Amazing Skylight review!
Skylight
By David Hare
19–27 November 2010
Skylight offers parts for just three actors, the chance to construct only one set, and precious little in the way of plot; but its focus on character, ambiguity, passion and regret sets a huge task, far removed from the mechanical delivery of lines and fulfilment of stage directions.
Kyra, played by Sarah Evans with restraint and absorbing truth, in her freezing, deeply unfashionable London flat, is a barely willing hostess to her former lover, Tom, for a single evening. The couple have plenty to discuss, but their communication is halting and fractured, veering from rancour to tender compassion, but with distrust and self-protection always sensed behind their words. Kyra’s emotions, and those of Tom, bubble and gush to the surface in a pool of recrimination, self-justification, painful insight and plain incomprehension. The currents between the pair force each to observe the other in full flow, and yet both actors managed to retain interest and sympathy throughout by carefully delivered gesture and facial expression.
David Morley as Tom, millionaire restaurateur, man of business, bereaved husband, abandoned lover and uncaring father, found the torture and loss which allowed the audience to empathize with a superficially unattractive character. Both actors delivered truly exemplary performances, and James Collins as Edward, in many ways the most likeable of the three characters, stood well in the company of his elders, beginning and ending the piece with the required blend of nervous flourish.
Jonathan Pitts, directing as well as designing the set, must take credit for assembling a pitch-perfect cast, but deserves far greater praise for enabling them to deliver the play in such a direct, personal and assured way. It is to his, and the actors’, credit that they clearly understood the complexities of the piece and allowed the audience to wrestle with the ambiguities on display without driving to a single conclusion or taking sides with either protagonist.
In bringing David Hare back to the town of his birth, the Stables has joyously reminded us that that we don’t have to travel to find theatrical excellence, simply appreciate what we already have.
By David Hare
19–27 November 2010
Reviewed by Martin Robinson
The Stables’ production of David Hare’s Skylight offered high-quality drama delivered with punch, subtlety and consummate skill by all concerned. The amateur roots of the Stables were completely invisible (not for the first time this season) and, but for the ludicrously low entrance fee, there was nothing to distinguish this production from the professional stage.
Skylight offers parts for just three actors, the chance to construct only one set, and precious little in the way of plot; but its focus on character, ambiguity, passion and regret sets a huge task, far removed from the mechanical delivery of lines and fulfilment of stage directions.
Kyra, played by Sarah Evans with restraint and absorbing truth, in her freezing, deeply unfashionable London flat, is a barely willing hostess to her former lover, Tom, for a single evening. The couple have plenty to discuss, but their communication is halting and fractured, veering from rancour to tender compassion, but with distrust and self-protection always sensed behind their words. Kyra’s emotions, and those of Tom, bubble and gush to the surface in a pool of recrimination, self-justification, painful insight and plain incomprehension. The currents between the pair force each to observe the other in full flow, and yet both actors managed to retain interest and sympathy throughout by carefully delivered gesture and facial expression.
David Morley as Tom, millionaire restaurateur, man of business, bereaved husband, abandoned lover and uncaring father, found the torture and loss which allowed the audience to empathize with a superficially unattractive character. Both actors delivered truly exemplary performances, and James Collins as Edward, in many ways the most likeable of the three characters, stood well in the company of his elders, beginning and ending the piece with the required blend of nervous flourish.
Jonathan Pitts, directing as well as designing the set, must take credit for assembling a pitch-perfect cast, but deserves far greater praise for enabling them to deliver the play in such a direct, personal and assured way. It is to his, and the actors’, credit that they clearly understood the complexities of the piece and allowed the audience to wrestle with the ambiguities on display without driving to a single conclusion or taking sides with either protagonist.
In bringing David Hare back to the town of his birth, the Stables has joyously reminded us that that we don’t have to travel to find theatrical excellence, simply appreciate what we already have.
Monday, 29 November 2010
O frabjous day!...
‘Callooh! Callay!’ I chortle in my joy!
Skylight is done and my life is, for a short time at least, once again my own. I will very soon be back at the theatre as I’m an assistant stage-manager on the theatre’s upcoming Christmas production of Darker Shores, but for now at least I have a few days off.
I can forget the reams and reams of lines I’ve been holding in my head for the past forever – not as easy a task as you might imagine as they are still assaulting me in my near-sleep, near-waking moments and will do so for a week or so yet I should imagine – and I can sweep the unhappy last few months under the dusty rug of things best forgotten.
I am however, a glass-half-full sort of gal, so have thought long and hard on what I can take away from the experience that is useful, and my overall umbrella realisation is that I now know exactly what not to do when Jak and I direct Irma V next year. A bit of a negative positive to be sure, but a positive nonetheless.
Despite the unfortunate rehearsal process, the run itself was a great success, excluding one performance where I dried so faked a crying fit to cover it up, and another where my opposite number dried, couldn’t hear the prompt, and I rewrote David Hare for a while in order to help him back to the script – in fact, even those two performances with their minor disasters were still good. We had some terrific feedback from audience members, not the least of which was how we’d managed to learn all the lines in the first place, and on from that, how did I manage to cook whilst remembering lines? To both these questions my answer was, and still is – I have no freaking idea!
The added bonus to the play being over, finito, done, dusted and heartily kicked to the kerb, is that my face is no longer displayed giant-size on the poster boards outside the theatre. No-one needs their head that big – literally, metaphorically or photographically.
...and so, her sigh of relief could be heard far and wide, whirling amongst the trees and skyscrapers and issuing forth across oceans and streams, and her smile, which had for a time become a stranger, once again made its home on her face.
Skylight is done and my life is, for a short time at least, once again my own. I will very soon be back at the theatre as I’m an assistant stage-manager on the theatre’s upcoming Christmas production of Darker Shores, but for now at least I have a few days off.
I can forget the reams and reams of lines I’ve been holding in my head for the past forever – not as easy a task as you might imagine as they are still assaulting me in my near-sleep, near-waking moments and will do so for a week or so yet I should imagine – and I can sweep the unhappy last few months under the dusty rug of things best forgotten.
I am however, a glass-half-full sort of gal, so have thought long and hard on what I can take away from the experience that is useful, and my overall umbrella realisation is that I now know exactly what not to do when Jak and I direct Irma V next year. A bit of a negative positive to be sure, but a positive nonetheless.
Despite the unfortunate rehearsal process, the run itself was a great success, excluding one performance where I dried so faked a crying fit to cover it up, and another where my opposite number dried, couldn’t hear the prompt, and I rewrote David Hare for a while in order to help him back to the script – in fact, even those two performances with their minor disasters were still good. We had some terrific feedback from audience members, not the least of which was how we’d managed to learn all the lines in the first place, and on from that, how did I manage to cook whilst remembering lines? To both these questions my answer was, and still is – I have no freaking idea!
The added bonus to the play being over, finito, done, dusted and heartily kicked to the kerb, is that my face is no longer displayed giant-size on the poster boards outside the theatre. No-one needs their head that big – literally, metaphorically or photographically.
...and so, her sigh of relief could be heard far and wide, whirling amongst the trees and skyscrapers and issuing forth across oceans and streams, and her smile, which had for a time become a stranger, once again made its home on her face.
Wednesday, 3 November 2010
It's too early for the hangover!
Oh... my... life. It's just over two weeks until curtain up on Skylight and it can’t come soon enough. It’s been immensely hard work one way and another, and not just because I've had so many lines to learn and the play is technically incredibly tricky, what with the cooking and everything – other factors, theatre-related and otherwise, have played a big part in making the last few months a less than wonderful experience.
It upsets me that I haven’t been able to enjoy the rehearsal process this time – normally it’s what makes the whole thing worthwhile. I suffer so badly with nerves that, believe it or not, being on stage in front of an audience is not why I do this, it’s terrifying, and curtain calls are my bête noire – I’d rather just finish the play and go home or up to the bar for a gin, without all that bowing and clapping nonsense! Fun rehearsals, a challenge and the chance to wear wigs and false eyelashes(!) have always been the draw for me – and although it’s been a great challenge for sure, for one reason and another it's fallen flat this time. They say, when you don’t enjoy something anymore, stop doing it, but unfortunately when you’re tied into it like this you can’t just walk away.
Right now, even though it hasn’t finished just yet, I’m in that ‘hangover’ phase – you know, when you had one (or several) too many the night before, and this morning you’re holding your aching head and rocking back and forth, swearing ‘never again’. I wasn’t planning to act next year as I want to concentrate on directing Irma Vep, but at this point, I feel like I don’t ever want to act again – my stress levels are at an all-time high and my finger nails are being bitten shorter by the day. I’m really hoping that’ll pass as acting’s been part of my life forever and I would hate to lose it.
Whinge, whinge, whinge!
I am, however, looking forward to immersing myself in the directorial side of things next year. I am currently getting to write, albeit not ‘properly’, as I’m putting together the audition notice. It’s a fine line between conveying your enthusiasm for a play and encouraging people to audition, and being overzealous and sending folk running for the hills. I hope I get the balance right!
Also, I’m enjoying a book by one of my favourite authors at the moment – Jasper Fforde. As a rule I find it hard to read when I’m learning lines, but as my lines are learnt now and I must derive pleasure from somewhere, I have picked up an old favourite. If you consider yourself a writer in any capacity, or simply love words and literature and you have never read any of his books before, you absolutely must. The man is a genius – if I’m not laughing at something funny, I’m marvelling at something clever.
Finally, I joined the Rach Writes Inaugural Writers’ Platform-Building Crusade the other day, a marvellous idea and a lovely way of knitting together the blogging community - pop along and join. And welcome to my newest followers who've found me via the Crusade!
It upsets me that I haven’t been able to enjoy the rehearsal process this time – normally it’s what makes the whole thing worthwhile. I suffer so badly with nerves that, believe it or not, being on stage in front of an audience is not why I do this, it’s terrifying, and curtain calls are my bête noire – I’d rather just finish the play and go home or up to the bar for a gin, without all that bowing and clapping nonsense! Fun rehearsals, a challenge and the chance to wear wigs and false eyelashes(!) have always been the draw for me – and although it’s been a great challenge for sure, for one reason and another it's fallen flat this time. They say, when you don’t enjoy something anymore, stop doing it, but unfortunately when you’re tied into it like this you can’t just walk away.
Right now, even though it hasn’t finished just yet, I’m in that ‘hangover’ phase – you know, when you had one (or several) too many the night before, and this morning you’re holding your aching head and rocking back and forth, swearing ‘never again’. I wasn’t planning to act next year as I want to concentrate on directing Irma Vep, but at this point, I feel like I don’t ever want to act again – my stress levels are at an all-time high and my finger nails are being bitten shorter by the day. I’m really hoping that’ll pass as acting’s been part of my life forever and I would hate to lose it.
Whinge, whinge, whinge!
I am, however, looking forward to immersing myself in the directorial side of things next year. I am currently getting to write, albeit not ‘properly’, as I’m putting together the audition notice. It’s a fine line between conveying your enthusiasm for a play and encouraging people to audition, and being overzealous and sending folk running for the hills. I hope I get the balance right!
Also, I’m enjoying a book by one of my favourite authors at the moment – Jasper Fforde. As a rule I find it hard to read when I’m learning lines, but as my lines are learnt now and I must derive pleasure from somewhere, I have picked up an old favourite. If you consider yourself a writer in any capacity, or simply love words and literature and you have never read any of his books before, you absolutely must. The man is a genius – if I’m not laughing at something funny, I’m marvelling at something clever.
Finally, I joined the Rach Writes Inaugural Writers’ Platform-Building Crusade the other day, a marvellous idea and a lovely way of knitting together the blogging community - pop along and join. And welcome to my newest followers who've found me via the Crusade!
Monday, 11 October 2010
Spaghetti-flippin'-bolognese
It’s official – I am sick, sick, sick of spaghetti bolognese. As you may or may not be aware, Skylight (for which I am currently in rehearsals) requires me to cook on stage and create a meal of spag bol. Fortunately I am the only person required to eat it, as I believe it may taste nasty (I’m not the world’s best cook), but already the smell makes me queasy. It wasn’t my favourite meal to begin with, but I fear that cooking it several times a week, and it’s only going to get more frequent as the run approaches, is going to ruin the dish for me FOREVER. At the moment, at the end of each rehearsal, the director scoops up the results of my culinary experiments into his Tupperware and takes it home for his tea – I’m wondering how long it will be before he too is sick of the taste/smell/sight of it.
There are several practical considerations that have had to be overcome with this cooking-on-stage malarkey. For starters, the script requires me to chop an onion, but they make me weep and I can’t risk washing my contact lenses away in a flood of tears – so I am now using dried onions, which have to be soaked in boiling water and which, incidentally, smell extremely bad. I also have to chop a chilli pepper. The director has caved, finally, and provided green rather than red chillies. Seeing as in the second act I do have to eat some of the stuff, it’s vital to make it as mild as possible – a coughing fit would detract from the drama methinks (or perhaps add to it if I’m having an off night). But still, green chillies are hot to me – yesterday I was very careful during the scene not to put my fingers near my eyes or mouth once I’d finished with the chopping, but forgot when we were taking a break and had to run off sharpish for a glass of water. Talk about a situation ripe for disaster. We also nearly had a burning issue with the sauce and, although I am meant to ‘forget’ about the pasta boiling, I constantly have one eye slightly askance at the stove, just in case the water starts to erupt over the top of the pan. I am doing my best not to think about the myriad of things that could go wrong.
On another note, it’s been a while since I’ve spoken about The Mystery of Irma Vep, the play my friend Jackie and I are directing next year. Since I last wrote in June (can’t believe it’s that long ago!) things have moved on leaps and bounds. For starters, Jak, who is the queen of minutiae, did a marvellous job of a props list and a ‘dream’ budget. There tends to be a set budget at the theatre, regardless of the production, but thanks to Jak’s eye for detail we were able to prove that we would ideally need a slightly higher budget, in order to produce the play of our dreams, and we found out a week ago that it’s been granted. We had started to think of get-rich-quick schemes, including a bake sale in the foyer, but fortunately we, and the punters, will be spared this horror.
This is a huge weight off our minds, as we desperately wanted to be able to get some fantabulous costumes specially made. The play is a quick-change piece, with two male actors playing eight roles, including women – nearly all the costumes need to be adapted for quick-change and the dresses have to have ‘boobs and bums’ sewn into them. We’re setting it in the 1890s, which means floor-length hemlines, leg ‘o’ mutton sleeves and high necklines – in other words, a lot of fabric and a lot of expertise in their creation. All being well, we have found a willing costumier.
Not only do we need costumes, we also need costume doubles for rehearsals. The changes are such an integral part of the production that we want our actors to be able to rehearse in dress almost from week one. Because of this, we also needed to secure a much earlier audition date than would normally be needed, to give the costumier time to make the muslins before rehearsals start. Fortunately, we’ve managed to move the audition forward by a few months, which will give the costumier plenty of time to work her magic, and the actors a good amount of time to get familiar with their lines so they can be book-free asap and get to grips with their pretty frocks.
There’s so much to think about, and I don’t feel that I can give it my full attention at the moment due to Skylight. But the light is starting to show at the end of the tunnel for that. Come December I’ll be able to start concentrating on Irma V in earnest.
Also come December, I plan to start writing again. I had another rejection letter the other day, which was disappointing. They didn’t say why it wasn’t right for them, which leaves me in the dark somewhat, but them’s the breaks. I’m not disheartened – I never thought for one moment that this was going to be a walk in the park. I think, for now, I will swap over the stories that have been rejected and send them out again. I’m not sure they’re right for the publications, but I’d rather have them out in the world than not, and I’ve no time to write anything new at the moment. My poor brain is full to the rafters with lines and spaghetti-flippin’-bolognese.
There are several practical considerations that have had to be overcome with this cooking-on-stage malarkey. For starters, the script requires me to chop an onion, but they make me weep and I can’t risk washing my contact lenses away in a flood of tears – so I am now using dried onions, which have to be soaked in boiling water and which, incidentally, smell extremely bad. I also have to chop a chilli pepper. The director has caved, finally, and provided green rather than red chillies. Seeing as in the second act I do have to eat some of the stuff, it’s vital to make it as mild as possible – a coughing fit would detract from the drama methinks (or perhaps add to it if I’m having an off night). But still, green chillies are hot to me – yesterday I was very careful during the scene not to put my fingers near my eyes or mouth once I’d finished with the chopping, but forgot when we were taking a break and had to run off sharpish for a glass of water. Talk about a situation ripe for disaster. We also nearly had a burning issue with the sauce and, although I am meant to ‘forget’ about the pasta boiling, I constantly have one eye slightly askance at the stove, just in case the water starts to erupt over the top of the pan. I am doing my best not to think about the myriad of things that could go wrong.
On another note, it’s been a while since I’ve spoken about The Mystery of Irma Vep, the play my friend Jackie and I are directing next year. Since I last wrote in June (can’t believe it’s that long ago!) things have moved on leaps and bounds. For starters, Jak, who is the queen of minutiae, did a marvellous job of a props list and a ‘dream’ budget. There tends to be a set budget at the theatre, regardless of the production, but thanks to Jak’s eye for detail we were able to prove that we would ideally need a slightly higher budget, in order to produce the play of our dreams, and we found out a week ago that it’s been granted. We had started to think of get-rich-quick schemes, including a bake sale in the foyer, but fortunately we, and the punters, will be spared this horror.
This is a huge weight off our minds, as we desperately wanted to be able to get some fantabulous costumes specially made. The play is a quick-change piece, with two male actors playing eight roles, including women – nearly all the costumes need to be adapted for quick-change and the dresses have to have ‘boobs and bums’ sewn into them. We’re setting it in the 1890s, which means floor-length hemlines, leg ‘o’ mutton sleeves and high necklines – in other words, a lot of fabric and a lot of expertise in their creation. All being well, we have found a willing costumier.
Not only do we need costumes, we also need costume doubles for rehearsals. The changes are such an integral part of the production that we want our actors to be able to rehearse in dress almost from week one. Because of this, we also needed to secure a much earlier audition date than would normally be needed, to give the costumier time to make the muslins before rehearsals start. Fortunately, we’ve managed to move the audition forward by a few months, which will give the costumier plenty of time to work her magic, and the actors a good amount of time to get familiar with their lines so they can be book-free asap and get to grips with their pretty frocks.
There’s so much to think about, and I don’t feel that I can give it my full attention at the moment due to Skylight. But the light is starting to show at the end of the tunnel for that. Come December I’ll be able to start concentrating on Irma V in earnest.
Also come December, I plan to start writing again. I had another rejection letter the other day, which was disappointing. They didn’t say why it wasn’t right for them, which leaves me in the dark somewhat, but them’s the breaks. I’m not disheartened – I never thought for one moment that this was going to be a walk in the park. I think, for now, I will swap over the stories that have been rejected and send them out again. I’m not sure they’re right for the publications, but I’d rather have them out in the world than not, and I’ve no time to write anything new at the moment. My poor brain is full to the rafters with lines and spaghetti-flippin’-bolognese.
Wednesday, 15 September 2010
ET go home!
My posts are a little scattered at the moment - apologies for that. I’m working a lot, which is great, but it leaves me little free time, and what free time I do have is being taken up with rehearsals and line-learning. One of my fellow actors and I recorded our lines last week, so now even my car journeys are all about the play – when I wake up in the morning, it is with the fuzzy residue of odd sections of monologue in my head – I feel like I’ve been taken over by an unwelcome alien. Sod off and let me sleep in peace ET!
Our new actor started with us on Monday, after our previous ‘Edward’ decided, quite fairly, that Skylight was one play too many for his busy teenage life. It’s a relief to have the new guy on board, but something of a drag to have to go over the six weeks of wasted rehearsals again – not his fault, of course, and he seems to pick things up quickly, so I have moderately waist-high hopes that rehearsals for the two scenes I share with him will be less like pulling teeth than last time.
On Saturday I had the most amazing day in London. My lovely friend Alexis took me for lunch at Tate Britain, which was delicious, highly recommend it, and then – the highlight of the day for me – we went to The Globe to see The Merry Wives of Windsor. It was my first time at the theatre and it is safe to say that I was blown away.
The structure itself is impressive and really does make you feel like you’ve stepped back in time, and the acting, as you would expect, knocked my socks off. The director created a colourful and fabulously fun production with some lovely touches and details that were hilarious. And seeing as how they are so limited with what they can do set-wise, they made very clever use of the space with some nifty little twists. Alexis and I are planning to book up to see everything they do next year – I am newly excited about Shakespeare and want more!
After the theatre we went to Tate Modern – again, another first for me. I have a friend who is doing an MA at Goldsmiths and spends much time at the Modern – I fear I will have to sit down with her and ask searching questions, as I found that much of the work, particularly the installations, left me confused, bemused and unmoved – particularly the heap of old clothes pinned to a wall by a garden statue. It was all a bit far-fetched for me – I had never thought of myself as someone who only liked ‘pretty’, recognisable pictures, but perhaps I am. Mind you, splotchy bowls of fruit and brown-gravy depictions of historical scenes also leave me cold – so maybe I’m just a fussy so-and-so!
And finally… I had my first rejection letter yesterday. I feel surprisingly unfazed by it – possibly because I had just assumed that is what I would get. I feel that I have been initiated into the world of the professional fiction writer. However, the editor who wrote to me did say that although the story I had sent wasn’t right for them, she enjoyed reading it and thought it was well written, and has asked me to send some more of my work. I have no doubt that everyone receives such platitudes, but regardless, it did go some way to softening the blow. So now I just have to find the time to write something else to send… hmm.
Our new actor started with us on Monday, after our previous ‘Edward’ decided, quite fairly, that Skylight was one play too many for his busy teenage life. It’s a relief to have the new guy on board, but something of a drag to have to go over the six weeks of wasted rehearsals again – not his fault, of course, and he seems to pick things up quickly, so I have moderately waist-high hopes that rehearsals for the two scenes I share with him will be less like pulling teeth than last time.
On Saturday I had the most amazing day in London. My lovely friend Alexis took me for lunch at Tate Britain, which was delicious, highly recommend it, and then – the highlight of the day for me – we went to The Globe to see The Merry Wives of Windsor. It was my first time at the theatre and it is safe to say that I was blown away.
The structure itself is impressive and really does make you feel like you’ve stepped back in time, and the acting, as you would expect, knocked my socks off. The director created a colourful and fabulously fun production with some lovely touches and details that were hilarious. And seeing as how they are so limited with what they can do set-wise, they made very clever use of the space with some nifty little twists. Alexis and I are planning to book up to see everything they do next year – I am newly excited about Shakespeare and want more!
After the theatre we went to Tate Modern – again, another first for me. I have a friend who is doing an MA at Goldsmiths and spends much time at the Modern – I fear I will have to sit down with her and ask searching questions, as I found that much of the work, particularly the installations, left me confused, bemused and unmoved – particularly the heap of old clothes pinned to a wall by a garden statue. It was all a bit far-fetched for me – I had never thought of myself as someone who only liked ‘pretty’, recognisable pictures, but perhaps I am. Mind you, splotchy bowls of fruit and brown-gravy depictions of historical scenes also leave me cold – so maybe I’m just a fussy so-and-so!
And finally… I had my first rejection letter yesterday. I feel surprisingly unfazed by it – possibly because I had just assumed that is what I would get. I feel that I have been initiated into the world of the professional fiction writer. However, the editor who wrote to me did say that although the story I had sent wasn’t right for them, she enjoyed reading it and thought it was well written, and has asked me to send some more of my work. I have no doubt that everyone receives such platitudes, but regardless, it did go some way to softening the blow. So now I just have to find the time to write something else to send… hmm.
Sunday, 22 August 2010
Yes, I am still alive
Lordy, life's a little hectic of late - sitting down to write has completely fallen by the wayside. I have a story all written, helpfully critiqued by members of the forum I'm on, but have I found the time to polish and send it out to a magazine? No, I have not - it's gathering dust on a shelf and looking very sorry for itself. I am going to endeavour to do something about that this week.
Rehearsals for Skylight are coming along, although I came back from my holiday to discover that one of the actors had pulled out. Frustrating, as rehearsals up to that point had just been for me and him, so all the work we'd done is rendered somewhat obsolete. Another actor is auditioning tomorrow evening I believe, so hopefully he'll be great and we can start all over again. Deep joy, because it was so much fun first time round! On a more positive note, rehearsals with the other actor have been good so far. My concern overall is just when am I going to find the time to learn my lines? Of which, I might add, there are MANY!
There is always a point during the rehearsal/performance process when I ask myself why I am putting myself through it. Usually that occurs on dress rehearsals and performance nights, when I'm waiting in the wings to go on. With this play, I am asking the question already, which bodes well does it not?!
Rehearsals for Skylight are coming along, although I came back from my holiday to discover that one of the actors had pulled out. Frustrating, as rehearsals up to that point had just been for me and him, so all the work we'd done is rendered somewhat obsolete. Another actor is auditioning tomorrow evening I believe, so hopefully he'll be great and we can start all over again. Deep joy, because it was so much fun first time round! On a more positive note, rehearsals with the other actor have been good so far. My concern overall is just when am I going to find the time to learn my lines? Of which, I might add, there are MANY!
There is always a point during the rehearsal/performance process when I ask myself why I am putting myself through it. Usually that occurs on dress rehearsals and performance nights, when I'm waiting in the wings to go on. With this play, I am asking the question already, which bodes well does it not?!
Saturday, 24 July 2010
Trial and error
Trying to recreate a picture, it turns out, is nigh on impossible, so we ended up with a different image altogether. It's going to be black and white, there may well be more flesh on show (although nothing X-rated I should point out, I'm really rather a modest lass when you get down to it) and I look a lot crosser. Not a hint of a smile in sight. I don't know why I look cross, I wasn't aiming for cross - I actually think the photographer caught me in an unprepared moment when I was feeling annoyed that I couldn't pull quite the same expression as last time - I mean, how hard can that be? Apparently, very. So anyway, there you have it, this old photo will never see the light of day other than on here. When the new image has been poster-fied I shall upload a copy.
First rehearsal last Sunday was good - there are an awful lot of props involved and trying to read my lines whilst unpacking shopping bags and making tea for two proved awkward. However, by what can only be described as a small miracle, I had my lines learnt for that scene for the second rehearsal on Wednesday, which made life much easier. I should point out that being off book by any sooner than six weeks before first night is unheard of for me, and it's unlikely I'll manage it ever again, so this was indeed an impressive coup.
I'm also not sure whether I mentioned that I will have a working kitchen on set and will have to not only really make cups of tea (getting the kettle to boil on cue should be interesting), but I will also have to rustle up an edible spaghetti bolognese. Fact is, in real life I can't cook, so I am faced with a double whammy here - remembering my lines whilst endeavouring not to burn onions.
I am, it has to be said, somewhat concerned about the logistics of this - there are many, many things that could go wrong. Let's hope they all happen during rehearsals and not in a performance. On the plus side, my family are looking forward to being able to come round for dinner and enjoy a meal they can actually eat (the last attempt, many months ago, having ended up in the bin - yes, I really am that bad). Surely after four months of cooking the same dish, I'll be able to make one I'm not scared to serve up to my nearest and dearest without fear of poisoning?
Friday, 16 July 2010
'Are you ready for your close-up?'
It's been a funny old couple of weeks. I've been working a lot, which is great - it's always a comfort when you're a freelancer to see a few pennies rolling in!
I have found the time for a creative venture or two, although unfortunately no writing. I have spent a large chunk of my day today critiquing the work of fellow writers on the forum I'm a member of - it's been fun, and hugely interesting, to read so many pieces of great writing, so many individual takes on everyday ideas, and so many unique ideas turned into clever stories and moving poems. I feel very honoured to be able to share my work with such a talented group of people. Not that I have any to share so far this month! Perhaps tomorrow I will find some time to sit and write something of my own.
I went pottery painting last week - it's a lovely way of passing an afternoon. There is a small and friendly farm shop near my home, where I'm now something of a regular. They set me up with my little table and my paint and brushes, supplied me with some marmalade on toast (an excellent source of energy when painting), and away I went. I have taken photos of my finished items, but they're a present for someone, so I shan't post the pics until the present has been given, just in case I spoil the surprise! I met and chatted with some nice people during the course of my afternoon, as when folk pop in for a cup of tea, they invariably wander over to take a look at what you're working on and conversations ensue. One lady I spoke to was a self-confessed Bloomsbury addict and we had a great chat about Vanessa Bell and Virgina Woolf, and it made me keen to get back to Charlston Farmhouse, which, if you haven't been, is a truly inspiring place.
Also last week, I went to see a play called The Boy Juliet. It's basically Shakespeare in Love, but unfortunately without Joseph Fiennes. It was a good production, the set was very clever and held it's greatest surprise until the end, when the back panels, which for the duration of the play had been the rough wooden boards of a barn or similarly rustic rehearsal room, opened out towards the back of the stage, revealing a misty darkness lit by a line of tea lights. The cast walked away from the audience and out into the darkness, the candles, of course, denoting the edge of a different stage, as they commence their production of R&J to a different, imaginary audience. Very clever indeed. The script (by Royce Ryton) was basic and slapstick in places, but produced laughs and did its job. Perhaps not the highest praise, but I think I've seen plays and read scripts that have been cleverer and made more of the English language. That said, I've also seen a lot worse. A terrible play called The Man Who Left the Titanic, springs to mind.
I went to see this a couple of weeks ago, and actually left at the interval in favour of going to the pub for a gin. The play was a two-hander, about Bruce Ismay, he of the White Star Line who hopped off the literal sinking ship into one of the lifeboats. The script contained no drama, but appeared to be merely a vehicle to convey the facts of the case. The performances were lack-lustre and the actor playing the ghost of Andrews did an excellent job of carrying the show, as Bruce himself seemed deeply uncertain of his lines in places. It's a touring production - should you find it coming to a theatre near you any time soon, I'd be inclined to give it a miss. The pub was much more entertaining.
This week I went to the photographer's studio to have my photo taken for the publicity for Skylight. I have never sat for a professional photo before and found it to be an unusual experience. There were lights upon me from many angles, and a silvery space-age contraption that looked like it had been designed by NASA, was stuck under my chin. The resulting photos, however, made me wish I could take all the lighting and photographic paraphernalia with me everywhere I go, as they clearly work miracles. Once the poster has been designed and I have a copy in my hot little hands, I shall scan it and upload it here so you can enjoy my discomfort. First rehearsal on Sunday - I'm feeling quite excited about it.
I have found the time for a creative venture or two, although unfortunately no writing. I have spent a large chunk of my day today critiquing the work of fellow writers on the forum I'm a member of - it's been fun, and hugely interesting, to read so many pieces of great writing, so many individual takes on everyday ideas, and so many unique ideas turned into clever stories and moving poems. I feel very honoured to be able to share my work with such a talented group of people. Not that I have any to share so far this month! Perhaps tomorrow I will find some time to sit and write something of my own.
I went pottery painting last week - it's a lovely way of passing an afternoon. There is a small and friendly farm shop near my home, where I'm now something of a regular. They set me up with my little table and my paint and brushes, supplied me with some marmalade on toast (an excellent source of energy when painting), and away I went. I have taken photos of my finished items, but they're a present for someone, so I shan't post the pics until the present has been given, just in case I spoil the surprise! I met and chatted with some nice people during the course of my afternoon, as when folk pop in for a cup of tea, they invariably wander over to take a look at what you're working on and conversations ensue. One lady I spoke to was a self-confessed Bloomsbury addict and we had a great chat about Vanessa Bell and Virgina Woolf, and it made me keen to get back to Charlston Farmhouse, which, if you haven't been, is a truly inspiring place.
Also last week, I went to see a play called The Boy Juliet. It's basically Shakespeare in Love, but unfortunately without Joseph Fiennes. It was a good production, the set was very clever and held it's greatest surprise until the end, when the back panels, which for the duration of the play had been the rough wooden boards of a barn or similarly rustic rehearsal room, opened out towards the back of the stage, revealing a misty darkness lit by a line of tea lights. The cast walked away from the audience and out into the darkness, the candles, of course, denoting the edge of a different stage, as they commence their production of R&J to a different, imaginary audience. Very clever indeed. The script (by Royce Ryton) was basic and slapstick in places, but produced laughs and did its job. Perhaps not the highest praise, but I think I've seen plays and read scripts that have been cleverer and made more of the English language. That said, I've also seen a lot worse. A terrible play called The Man Who Left the Titanic, springs to mind.
I went to see this a couple of weeks ago, and actually left at the interval in favour of going to the pub for a gin. The play was a two-hander, about Bruce Ismay, he of the White Star Line who hopped off the literal sinking ship into one of the lifeboats. The script contained no drama, but appeared to be merely a vehicle to convey the facts of the case. The performances were lack-lustre and the actor playing the ghost of Andrews did an excellent job of carrying the show, as Bruce himself seemed deeply uncertain of his lines in places. It's a touring production - should you find it coming to a theatre near you any time soon, I'd be inclined to give it a miss. The pub was much more entertaining.
This week I went to the photographer's studio to have my photo taken for the publicity for Skylight. I have never sat for a professional photo before and found it to be an unusual experience. There were lights upon me from many angles, and a silvery space-age contraption that looked like it had been designed by NASA, was stuck under my chin. The resulting photos, however, made me wish I could take all the lighting and photographic paraphernalia with me everywhere I go, as they clearly work miracles. Once the poster has been designed and I have a copy in my hot little hands, I shall scan it and upload it here so you can enjoy my discomfort. First rehearsal on Sunday - I'm feeling quite excited about it.
Thursday, 1 July 2010
Inspiration blockage
I have an idea for a story - it's full of joy, sorrow, history, romance, familial duties and pressures, teenage rebellion - it has potential I think. But can I write it? Can I heck as like.
I've started - there's an opening to be sure, but now what? I've written a couple of middling paragraphs, shuffled them around a bit. And I know how I want it to end, but haven't attempted to put that down on paper as yet. It's like doing a dot-to-dot with an invisible pen.
I need to write this story - it is too early on in this fledgling fiction writing career of mine to be thwarted by writer's block and a lack of inspiration. The question is, do I slog away at it, or do I put it to one side and try and write another?
On a different subject - rehearsals for Skylight will be starting in just over two weeks, and the issue of publicity has arisen, i.e. the poster/flyer/programme image and the photographing thereof. Turns out, the publicity image for this particular play is... my face.
Hadn't reckoned on that.
I've started - there's an opening to be sure, but now what? I've written a couple of middling paragraphs, shuffled them around a bit. And I know how I want it to end, but haven't attempted to put that down on paper as yet. It's like doing a dot-to-dot with an invisible pen.
I need to write this story - it is too early on in this fledgling fiction writing career of mine to be thwarted by writer's block and a lack of inspiration. The question is, do I slog away at it, or do I put it to one side and try and write another?
On a different subject - rehearsals for Skylight will be starting in just over two weeks, and the issue of publicity has arisen, i.e. the poster/flyer/programme image and the photographing thereof. Turns out, the publicity image for this particular play is... my face.
Hadn't reckoned on that.
Wednesday, 23 June 2010
Call me Kyra
After an amazing audition on Sunday, I have just found out that I have, once again, landed the part of Kyra in Skylight. And thanks to the casting of a superb male lead, I feel confident that the play will be good, if not great, and I am finally looking forward to doing it. I had started to fear my enthusiasm would never return.
Having turned down the role for various reasons earlier in the year, I was caught in a strange limbo land of not being entirely sure I wanted to reaudition (even though I had said I would) but also not sure that I wanted anyone else to play the part either. It was all dependent on the right chap playing opposite me, and I do believe, having seen him in Equus earlier in the year, the director has bagged himself the right actor for the job. Hurrah!
I now await my rehearsal schedule...
Having turned down the role for various reasons earlier in the year, I was caught in a strange limbo land of not being entirely sure I wanted to reaudition (even though I had said I would) but also not sure that I wanted anyone else to play the part either. It was all dependent on the right chap playing opposite me, and I do believe, having seen him in Equus earlier in the year, the director has bagged himself the right actor for the job. Hurrah!
I now await my rehearsal schedule...
Sunday, 13 June 2010
Better late than never... I guess
On a scale of one to ten, how bad do you suppose it is to be 40 minutes late to a pre-audition audition? Hmmmm.... That's what I thought, so it's safe to say that I have made a bad impression this afternoon then!
Earlier in the year I auditioned for the part of Kyra in Skylight (by David Hare). I got the part but turned it down as the performances clashed with the end of my course. But the director postponed the play until November and asked me to audition again when he recasted, which was today and next Sunday. Today was a read-through so that actors could get an idea of the parts, before next weekend's audition proper. I thought it was at 4.30, but got a phonecall from the director at 3.40 to ask me where I was, as it had started at 3.30. Needless to say, I drove like the wind to get to the theatre, but was still VERY late and on the receiving end of some unimpressed faces. Ah well, 'tis all in a day's muddle for me!
On a lighter note, last night I went to the theatre to see a play called Two by Jim Cartwright, he of The Rise and Fall of Little Voice made famous by Jane Horrocks. Jak was prompting and two friends, Duncan and Bertie, were in it. The play is set in a pub, with the landlord and landlady leading the charge, and the two actors playing them also playing the various customers who pop in for a drink.
By turns poignant and funny, scary and slapstick, the play was brilliantly written and the various characters wonderfully observed. From a little old man who has conversations in his head with his dead wife, to a violently jealous man and his downtrodden, defeated wife, a colourful array of characters pass through the doors. And all the while, the landlord and landlady deal with their own unresolved problems, weaving seamlessly between their clientelle and coming to a head after closing time. Duncan and Bertie did an amazing job of bringing all the characters to life, and Duncan's crazy 'dad' dancing will go down in the annals of the theatre. Oh how I wish I'd had a video camera.
Earlier in the year I auditioned for the part of Kyra in Skylight (by David Hare). I got the part but turned it down as the performances clashed with the end of my course. But the director postponed the play until November and asked me to audition again when he recasted, which was today and next Sunday. Today was a read-through so that actors could get an idea of the parts, before next weekend's audition proper. I thought it was at 4.30, but got a phonecall from the director at 3.40 to ask me where I was, as it had started at 3.30. Needless to say, I drove like the wind to get to the theatre, but was still VERY late and on the receiving end of some unimpressed faces. Ah well, 'tis all in a day's muddle for me!
On a lighter note, last night I went to the theatre to see a play called Two by Jim Cartwright, he of The Rise and Fall of Little Voice made famous by Jane Horrocks. Jak was prompting and two friends, Duncan and Bertie, were in it. The play is set in a pub, with the landlord and landlady leading the charge, and the two actors playing them also playing the various customers who pop in for a drink.
By turns poignant and funny, scary and slapstick, the play was brilliantly written and the various characters wonderfully observed. From a little old man who has conversations in his head with his dead wife, to a violently jealous man and his downtrodden, defeated wife, a colourful array of characters pass through the doors. And all the while, the landlord and landlady deal with their own unresolved problems, weaving seamlessly between their clientelle and coming to a head after closing time. Duncan and Bertie did an amazing job of bringing all the characters to life, and Duncan's crazy 'dad' dancing will go down in the annals of the theatre. Oh how I wish I'd had a video camera.
Sunday, 6 June 2010
Haunted houses and men in dresses
Well, it's unofficially official, Jak and I will be directing our first play next year, so now, no longer risking the temptation of fate, I can announce that the play we have chosen is...
da da da daaaahhhh...
The Mystery of Irma Vep - a penny dreadful by Charles Ludlam
Hands up all those who've heard of it... Yup, thought not.
So, here's a little background. It's a spoof of Gothic melodrama, a quick-change farce, loosely based on Rebecca. It requires two male actors to play eleven roles, which include the lord and lady of Mandacrest Manor, a Mrs Danvers-esque housekeeper, a servant with a wooden leg, a werewolf, a vampire and a topless Egyptian princess.
Jak and I have already started designing the set. Pictured is our in-progress, scaled-down and much-simplified Blue Peter effort to help demonstrate our ideas to the set builders. Clearly there is a long way to go! But seeing as neither of us has ever designed a set before or built a mini version, we are rather pleased with our amateur efforts. Anyone caught smirking will be summarily executed - you have been warned.
The quick changes within the play (and I'm sure Jak, who is the 'details queen' of this particular operation, will correct me if I'm wrong) number in the high thirties, the majority of which need to be of around 10 seconds, less if possible. When this play was originally staged in Greenwich Village, New York, in the early 1980s, starring Charles Ludlum and his partner Everett Quinton, people would pay extra to have a seat backstage so they could watch the quick-changes, rather than sit out front and watch the play itself. That's how spectacular they were, and how amazing we hope we can make them. No pressure.
The set involves secret entrances and exits, as well as a bleeding painting, the mechanics of which we have yet to figure out. We have to bring in an Egypt set in the second act that needs to be removed without dropping the curtain and with the audience in situ, which could prove tricky. However, we have a cunning plan up our joint sleeve for that one.
So there will be challenges aplenty, but I have no doubt that we will not panic at all and will remain calm and in complete control throughout the entire project. I'm absolutely sure that will be the case. Okay, 85% sure. Well, high 70s anyway. But then again... Hmmmmmm...
da da da daaaahhhh...
The Mystery of Irma Vep - a penny dreadful by Charles Ludlam
Hands up all those who've heard of it... Yup, thought not.
So, here's a little background. It's a spoof of Gothic melodrama, a quick-change farce, loosely based on Rebecca. It requires two male actors to play eleven roles, which include the lord and lady of Mandacrest Manor, a Mrs Danvers-esque housekeeper, a servant with a wooden leg, a werewolf, a vampire and a topless Egyptian princess.
The quick changes within the play (and I'm sure Jak, who is the 'details queen' of this particular operation, will correct me if I'm wrong) number in the high thirties, the majority of which need to be of around 10 seconds, less if possible. When this play was originally staged in Greenwich Village, New York, in the early 1980s, starring Charles Ludlum and his partner Everett Quinton, people would pay extra to have a seat backstage so they could watch the quick-changes, rather than sit out front and watch the play itself. That's how spectacular they were, and how amazing we hope we can make them. No pressure.
The set involves secret entrances and exits, as well as a bleeding painting, the mechanics of which we have yet to figure out. We have to bring in an Egypt set in the second act that needs to be removed without dropping the curtain and with the audience in situ, which could prove tricky. However, we have a cunning plan up our joint sleeve for that one.
So there will be challenges aplenty, but I have no doubt that we will not panic at all and will remain calm and in complete control throughout the entire project. I'm absolutely sure that will be the case. Okay, 85% sure. Well, high 70s anyway. But then again... Hmmmmmm...
Saturday, 29 May 2010
Things to make and do
Through my haze of germs (which are thankfully lessening) I forgot to write about my creative and productive day last Saturday.
Jak and I went to visit a lady about costumes for our play, and spent a most enjoyable time rummaging through rails and rails of frocks and frock coats, blouses and bloomers, and rafter-high shelves crammed with wigs and hats, shoes and trews. Despite the small cast of two for this play, we will need 15, yes, that's 15, costumes. If/when we take our actors to this most magical barn to fit them for costumes, it will be, I fear, necessary for me to dress up too.
We also, Jak and I, had our very first sewing lesson. This is with the view to being able to alter some of the costumes ourselves next year. Should we get to direct it of course, still not tempting fate!
Having only ever carried my mum's sewing machine from her house to mine, and not even removed it from it's case before, the whole experience was extremely alien to me. But by the end of our lesson I had not only learned how to switch the machine on, I had made an actual pin cushion - pictured here in all its glory.
Jak and I went to visit a lady about costumes for our play, and spent a most enjoyable time rummaging through rails and rails of frocks and frock coats, blouses and bloomers, and rafter-high shelves crammed with wigs and hats, shoes and trews. Despite the small cast of two for this play, we will need 15, yes, that's 15, costumes. If/when we take our actors to this most magical barn to fit them for costumes, it will be, I fear, necessary for me to dress up too.
We also, Jak and I, had our very first sewing lesson. This is with the view to being able to alter some of the costumes ourselves next year. Should we get to direct it of course, still not tempting fate!
Having only ever carried my mum's sewing machine from her house to mine, and not even removed it from it's case before, the whole experience was extremely alien to me. But by the end of our lesson I had not only learned how to switch the machine on, I had made an actual pin cushion - pictured here in all its glory.I am aware that my feeling of triumph is disproportionate to the end product, and have been heartily mocked by my mum and brother, but I don't care. As Jak pointed out, with a suitable dose of mirth, it is only a hop, skip and a jump from pin cushions to corsetry. Non-believers will be laughing on the other side of their faces when I can rustle up stunning cushion covers and curtains from old dust sheets, bits of ribbon and the odd button I find lying around. Oh yes.
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