Devising Auditions 101

Maybe you're like me and you've never been to a devising audition before. Sure, you know how to memorize a monologue. You've been trained rigorously to introduce yourself, your piece, and then say thank you before leaving. You know where to set your eyes so you don't make the important people in the room uncomfortable. And you're certain that what you have to offer is different from everyone else, and hopefully that will be enough.

Devising auditions-- so I've learned-- definitely don't work like that. Now, let me clarify: I attend a Devised Performance MFA program with a prestigious devising ensemble theatre company. This does not mean by any stretch of the imagination that I know everything about devising. This weekend was the first devising audition I've attended outside of auditioning by myself for this graduate program.

A company from Chicago came to Philadelphia this weekend to resurrect a show they first produced a few years ago. The people running this ensemble company studied in Europe and have similar methodologies to what we study here in Philly. But, in case you didn't know, every single devising process on the planet is different from every other. No two companies devise alike. Everyone has created a different way of getting to the end result--a show.

This process takes time to create, and requires building a common language between bodies. For this reason, most devising companies are ensembles--they don't audition others to join them. Teaching others to work like them, after not sharing a common bond for so long is daunting and often fraught with pitfalls. Sometimes when companies are auditioning, they invite collaborators who have seen them work or seen their process to the auditions. Sometimes they invite only one person to come in. And sometimes, they'll get a whole new group together for a project so they can learn together. I would say this Chicago company is doing the latter.

This company originally split us into two time slots, with each time slot being two hours long. As they continued to accept submissions, they realized they'd need to adjust the timing. So each of these two hour slots was split into one hour slots. When I arrived (early, as we all know you should do) I learned that the time slots would hold about 20 people per group. That's right, in a devised audition you are there to show the director that you can create something from nothing with an ensemble. There is no auditioning alone!

And here's the thing. I knew this going in. I understood that I would be auditioning with other performers I hadn't met before. What I didn't understand, is what exactly that would feel like, and how it would function. Here's the basic run down of how the audition functioned:

1. Everyone circled up with the director in the middle of the room and we agreed that we were there to audition the company as much as they were there to audition us. We each had a say in how interested we would be in continuing a relationship at the end of the time slot.
2. We introduced ourselves with our name, our pronouns, and then our favorite brand of cereal.
3. We made eye contact with someone in the room (to prove that we could function as an ensemble of course) and switched spaces with them.
4. We introduced ourselves again, then switched spaces. We discussed not leaving gaps in the circle to learn how to work in close quarters together.
5. We introduced ourselves a third time, and then the director proved he could say all of our names correctly by memory.
6. Then we were asked to perform the history of the American Revolution in 30 seconds, individually. We were given 3 minutes to prepare somewhere in the room. No words allowed, but sound was.
7. We performed in a random order.
8. Then we were split into groups of 3, given the same assignment, and performed it again.
9. Then we were split into 3 groups of 5-7 and performed it again.
10. The audition was over and we were told we would hear soon about callbacks that evening.

After this audition I spent some time reflecting on the process. I'm one of those crazy actors that loves to audition. I get so excited to get into a room and show you what I can do. That's because I was always very good at cold reading from a script and interpreting a character. Or showing a monologue that no one else would think to do. I had to spend some time dissecting not only how different this process felt and how I felt about it, but I also wanted to ruminate on what I felt was successful about how the audition was run.

A few years ago, I would have thought the only important part of an audition was how I performed. These days, I'm taught to think more process oriented, and I'm encouraged to question everything. This weekend I proposed the question to myself: How would I have run this devising audition? What could have made it better?

I'm certain (certain) that every devising audition is vastly different from another, because every devising project asks something different of us. In this audition they were looking for 7 performers who would perform physically together on a platform that's around 3ft x 7ft. This is their technique. Give the ensemble a huge obstacle and see what engaging theatre comes out of it.

That means this company was looking for: very physically precise performers, who could use their body in multiple ways, and knew how to share space and give focus. There were other things like accents, singing, and characters involved. But generally speaking, you're looking for a specific kind of performer, probably of not too varying height, and they did specify preferring people of color.

What I learned from watching my entire group perform is that these 30 second individual pieces didn't seem to serve the audition well. Many people did the same things, and for those of us (like me) whose idea was taken by someone else early in the line up, we were forced to try and take a risk being different doing something we hadn't rehearsed. Yes, the director gets to see an individual body move. Could that have been accomplished with a less in depth exercise? Absolutely. Did individual creativity matter from a 3 minute rehearsal? My experience in ensemble work is that you're learning to create together. Being a great individual creator doesn't make you a great ensemble member. In my opinion, giving such a labor intensive creation exercise to be judged on individually didn't reap huge rewards, especially when auditioning for a show that is not improvisation based.

I did think the sections of being grouped off in small and large ensembles was very effective. Perhaps if we'd had the extra time from the individual round allotted to this section they could have witnessed some very creative pieces. Again, many things were repeated. Certain groups agreed on an abstract aesthetic, and some agreed to be more literal. When not knowing your fellow creators, it can be difficult to find consensus on the kind of work you want to present in a high stakes audition. With our 3 minutes to rehearse my experience was going with the first idea and trying to sell it.

Reflecting on the audition I don't know that a creative space was made in the room until the end group performances. There wasn't an opportunity through exercises to showcase physicality. Because people were trying to show they could work in a small space, most stayed central during their performance. The time spent saying names and switching places didn't translate into anything helpful when we worked in groups later. Repeating the same story (American Revolution) in every audition performance could have bred creativity to try something different, but with the time crunch created instead a recycling of things. There seemed to be a lot of missed opportunities, and I'd like to think that's because they had to quickly restructure the time slots to accommodate more bodies. What would I have done differently?

I would have capped the number of people auditioning. I would have accepted no one late to the audition. I would have started with group exercises and not focused so much on names. Perhaps some trust exercises, certainly exercises of weight sharing or building images. I would have put the individual performances at the end, and prompted it to be a different story overall.

Something about asking people to perform individually in front of each other before creating a space for the group felt counter intuitive. As if the individual comes first, and not the ensemble. I would have cut exercises to give space for others to grow. And I would have been clear about what I was searching for. If you're searching for an individual who can be abstract, then let them know. If you want a literal representation--that's important to create with in mind. If you just want to see who improvises well, explain how that informs the process of the show.

To be fair, I can't know for certain exactly what they were searching for in this audition. I've seen clips of the show and know the end result. However, the show could have been half cast and they were searching for a specific role, height, size, or attitude of attack in someone. Maybe they were casting the entire thing and looking at people who were similar to who filled the roles before. There's no way to know, and it's pointless to speculate.

What I care about is how to create a space for devisers of varying degrees of experience to come together in a short amount of time and show their best selves. Unlike in a regular theatre audition, we didn't get to prepare something ahead of time, and we had to audition one after the other seeing when someone else was taking an idea of ours before we had the chance to implement it. There was a different level of trying to stand out, and an anxiety of people searching for what to show of themselves. It was unclear if being incredibly physical was more important than being precise, or if being thorough was more important than being interesting. With so many questions in the room and no time to answer them, I learned that a room with that energy didn't give as much space for creativity, jeu (play), or risks.

And if there's no risk, there's no reward.

Looking back on it, I didn't not enjoy myself. But I'm in a program where I audition every week a new idea I have. Sometimes every day. And I know by now the difference between when my creativity is being squashed and when it's being pushed.  I also know by now, that if you asked others at this audition they would disagree with me. That's the beauty of devising, I suppose. Everybody likes to do it differently. If you're lucky enough to find others who enjoy doing it the way you do, that's something special.

I think devising auditions don't happen very often, and because of that it's something without form. Even still--it needs to function. It needs to serve the purpose of seeing the best sides of your performers, by setting them up for success before they enter the room--and definitely when they're in it.

Grad School Year 2--Half Way Through

This first semester has flown by, and tomorrow is the beginning of second semester of my second year of graduate school. The second year began with Translations. Which was really about devising adaptations of films and novels, and 'translating' them to the stage. We worked on Melodramas, Commedia, Balinese masks, Bouffon, and Cabaret.

We cover so much so quickly in this program, and most of it will sound like nonsense if you aren't a theatre person or even if you are a theatre person but you live in America. Our school is grounded in the pedagogy of Jacque Lecoq who started a physical theatre school in France. Mask work, melodramas, and critical, mocking pieces of theatre are not the norm here in the west. These are usually labelled as traditional, old, and definitely not for a contemporary art audience. I think if I had seen mask work a few years ago, I might not have understood it. Now, it's one of my favorite things about this program.

Here is a brief summary of the semester:

We were partitioned off into small 'companies' or ensembles that we worked within for 10 weeks. We learned the inner workings of how to communicate effectively, attempted to agree on a universally accepted aesthetic, and tried our best to make work that we found exciting, bold, and new. I felt we were successful, but this is generally a tumultuous time. Outside of school most of us hope to form companies, and when doing this we'll choose the people we want to create with, who have a similar vision, but hopefully enough difference of opinion to never become complacent. Inside graduate school however, they choose companies for you and this can make it difficult when working with people who want different things or whom you don't function well with.

I had an overwhelmingly positive experience and learned a lot about myself as a creator, more about what I enjoy making aesthetically, and even more about how I like to work and function in a group. I also can't stress enough that this was finally the point in the program where we learned what it really was to make fully fledged shows. Putting an entire show together from just a nugget of an idea, and sometimes no blueprint at all is really an amazing process. I've learned that this is a form of theatre that I find exhilarating and important. Six months ago, I hadn't really done this yet. Crazy how time flies.

My company translated the film Baby Driver to the stage, as well as the novel Oryx and Crake. We created a melodrama that was loosely based on a real life woman who operated a lighthouse with her family in New England. We learned to write musical scores, and play foley (Which means creating real sound effects on stage with items that wouldn't normally create these real sounds. Think: how do you make it sound like waves are crashing on stage? What does a shipwreck sound like? The slosh of a boat on water. No computers allowed). We learned how to function as an outside eye (Which, after much debate, is different from the role of a traditional director, but that's another story), and play a mimeur (A body that creates space on stage, sets a scene, and can be the inner desires of a character).

We did a crash course in Commedia Del Arte masks and Balinese masks. And then we started a very long study (which we're still in the middle of) on the bouffon. The buffoon, in English. These characters mock everything and everyone. They can be ugly and grotesque but they always think they're beautiful. Their truth is beautiful. They know when they've gone too far, and they always apologize. But their goal is to make the audience understand how hypocritically they live their lives. It's a daring and dangerous form, and few can do it well. When you see a master at work, it's something to behold.

Cabaret wrapped up the semester. I created a character who left modern society to live on her own in the wilderness. I sang Survivor by Destiny's Child. It was something else.

I stretched. I grew. I failed. I don't fully understand all that I've learned. However, that is the beauty of my school. You learn it all, and then you choose what to gravitate towards.

We start taking a pedagogy course in our second year as well. This is really helpful because we continuously review what we're learning and learn to teach it. So, often, it's an opportunity to go back over something you might not have understood the first time. It's a time for exploration and innovation in how best to teach the work. This is a course we'll continue as we go through the program.

This second year focuses on performing. We'll be performing our bouffon pieces soon, then taking a showing of our favorite pieces to New York. We perform a clown show back in Philadelphia. The final show of the semester is called Dares. The faculty here will individually dare us, and we create our own shows surrounding these dares. We can be in them or we can direct them, but they'll be devised by us. Last year, the Dares showing was the best thing I'd seen in the city all year, not just at the school.

There's a lot to look forward to. I think it's easy in this program to get so wrapped up in the crazy that you can't take a step back and savor everything that's being learned. It's a whirlwind, and sometimes I wish it would slow down so I could catch my breath and remember more. But some things can't be changed, and the pace is part of how this program functions. I'm sure I'll be running around just as crazy as I was last semester starting tomorrow.

Wish me luck!

Graduate School Year 2 Begins! My MFA in Devised Theatre adventure continues...

Ready or not, here it comes. Tomorrow begins chapter 2 of this new life journey I started a year ago. I wrapped up year one of graduate school in May. I survived the first year with a few scrapes and really looking forward to a summer break.

We put on our first show in March. It was really just the ensemble's favorite Friday Creation projects thrown together like a showcase of what we'd accomplished so far. I was pleased at the time with how it turned out, but like all things I look back on it (literally I watched the video) and thought--wow, we've come so far as a class since then. My pieces selected for the showing were from the creation prompts The Chase and One Place, One Event. I was incredibly proud of my ensemble for coming together and putting something up in such a limited time frame. Part of the pedagogy of the program we learned this year is to cram a lot of lessons into a short amount of time and to never stop generating material. I suppose the lesson is to do work, often, even if it's not good. Don't ever be afraid to produce work just because it might fail. That's never a good enough reason.

Border towns being created around churches before the border was established.

Quickly after that showcase, our ensemble took a trip to the northern borders of America. We crossed into Canada by train and saw a fantastic show in Montreal about the invisible borders between cultures indigenous to Canada and those there now. After just one night in the province of Quebec, we rented cars to head to Edmundston, Canada (province of New Brunswick) and Madawaska, Maine. These two towns are on opposite sides of a border that separates two countries. Yet their economies rely on each other for most things, and most people here have an Acadian heritage meaning they don't really consider themselves Canadian or American. They're so removed from the rest of their countries that they've grown very close together.

The project was to visit border towns and interview people about their experience there, and then to tell that story. The show was meant to be a foil to the national conversation happening about our southern border and the misconceptions people might have based on the national dialogue that every border is the same.

This is the bridge separating Madawaska, Maine and Edumndston, Canada with a frozen river running beneath it.

The train ride to Quebec

It was a fascinating experience. I had no idea that taking a trip like this could translate into a piece of theatre, and certainly no experience in making something like that come to fruition. But these are the joys of being part of an ensemble devised theatre program! Together we had some amazing experiences, met some fantastic characters, and managed to translate real life onto the stage!  This was the seminal experience for me in my first year. Everything I learned lead me to the moment of accomplishment and pride I felt when we were able to stand together and say, "We built this." I spent my entire year taking part in making short theatrical bursts; 3 minute appetizers to sustain me until I could learn to create a main entree. And while the entree was still less than 20 minutes in length, and was only given a few weeks to shape itself into a main course meal, and was admittedly still unformed because of the trial that is ensemble devising--it happened. I learned from it. My confidence in myself and my ability to create theatre experiences from nothing evolved and reshaped itself into a new part of me that I will carry into year two!

Snow falling at night

A crane we saw tearing down a dilapidated house in the middle of down town Madawaska right before an accident tipped it over into the basement. No one was injured.

This summer was full of real life trials and tribulations. But I did ultimately have the opportunity to help create an independent study to fulfill a credit I'll need to graduate. We're allowed to take any class the university offers, but after a fascinating workshop we were able to take during the second semester there was a small group of us that knew exactly what we were interested in pursuing.

Five of us took a month this summer to take a class on Gaming Theatre. Our amazing Voice teacher actually runs her own company that creates theatrical experiences for non theatrical audiences in the form of interactive and playable games. Some of these are site specific works, others are educational in nature, and a few have been actual card or video games. She works with community partners and organizations to create these experiences to fill a need, and usually has several projects going on at once. She's a wealth of knowledge and we were dying to learn from all of her experience. We were able to do a broad reach into the background of interactive and immersive performance experiences, the history of game design, and the impact of agency in theatrical applications. We also created our own games, tested them (in small doses), and learned the road map to creating successful gaming endeavors. It was quite honestly my favorite class I've taken yet!

It's the specialty classes that have really made this last year so special for me. I was excited to attend graduate school to broaden my knowledge of the ways that theatre can successfully be done. I knew I'd learn skills I wouldn't even know about before, or maybe skills I didn't think I could do. And that's exactly what happened. My music theory course this last semester became a composition course where every single week we wrote new songs. In an ensemble program I was desperate to have complete control over a finished product and this class gave me that opportunity. I'm so proud of the new skills I learned in that class. This gaming workshop was similar and is something I'm incredibly interested in pursuing in my future going forward after this program.

This next year holds a lot of firsts for me. Cabaret, clown, commedia, buffon, and other new styles will be learned. I'll be making another mask, adapting movies and books, and trying on genres for size. We'll be given dares this year, and then dare to create our own. What I'm most excited about is that this year is more performance based. Instead of performing for our faculty, we'll have many more opportunities to perform for the community, including a New York showcase in the spring.  This year I can see my future a little more clearly. Life after graduate school will sneak up on me fast, and I'm taking steps to test out what I think I'd like to do next.

First on the list? Try everything. And visit some new places to see how my art fits in. Here's to another year of ensemble training!

Mask Making and Circus School Taking

It's a new year and the start of my second semester of my first year of graduate school. Even months in, it's strange to use those words. Graduate school was a dream for a long time, and it's crazy to look back and think about where I thought I'd be. Certainly not in a physical theatre/devised performance program! Mostly because at the time I didn't know such things existed. And yet nothing could feel like a better fit.

This semester is off to a great start! We've been working with the larval masks, which are large, full-faced masks with no eyes to see out of. So you're moving blindly through the space as you wear the mask. It's a huge challenge, but so exciting to get to release the control an actor feels from trying to express with their eyes instead of their body. We've also been playing with expressive masks, which are much more human looking, and therefore very expressive. These are also full-faced, but with eye holes. And with these we've begun to move towards costuming and props, which are new elements we didn't play with during neutral mask and larval mask. Learning to 'show the mask' (which means keeping the sight line of your eyes up and out towards the audience so they can read you) while not being able to see below your eye holes to the props you're using is an interesting dilemma. It reminds me of when I was first learning stage directions and the confusion of upstage vs. downstage. Sight lines are like a whole new language!

We've also begun a mask making workshop that's been taking a lot of our time. It's so exciting to start creating characters from the mask up. We plastered our faces and made molds in our first 4 hour session. Then we put clay on them and paper mached them with five layers for the second session. We just finished taking the paper mask off the mold, reinforcing the sides with more paper mache, and sanding the paper down to prepare for paint. It's a long process, and we could use a lot more time to do it, but I'm excited to see the finished product. Hint--my mask has 3 chins.

Yesterday we took a field trip to circus school where we walked beams, pipes, and wires. We learned tricks on the Aerial Slings (or silks depending on who you talk to). We tried our hand at trapeze, which I learned is extremely painful without calluses. And of course, we worked on tumbling and partner acrobatics. It was one of my favorite days of graduate school so far. We take acrobatics twice a week, which is always a blast. But the opportunity to use a new apparatus that we don't have on campus was so fun! My entire class agreed we'd love to take classes regularly on trapeze and sling, which we don't have access to on campus. It's a fantastic full body workout, and in some ways easier to see progress than in partner acrobatics and tumbling.

We have a trip to the border planned for Spring Break. Half the class will go to Texas to the Mexican border, and the other half of us are going to the Canadian border. We'll be going as researchers to observe stories, and then we're going to create a piece of theatre about it. Notice I didn't say write a play? We're going to devise a play, which (for those of you who don't know) means we work as an ensemble to craft a piece from the ground up with our bodies, voices, and usually improvisation. Sometimes we throw in text for inspiration, and in this case I can imagine we might use direct text from certain people we meet. Every devising process is different. But the one thing that holds true through all devising is that it doesn't stem from a playwright's words first. It is discovered. And then later potentially written.

In music theory we've moved on to writing songs every week this semester. First week, we used a piece of text that already existed to craft a melody with a pedal played underneath. Last week we were given a specific chord progression with the option of lyrics or no lyrics. It's terribly difficult for me to write a song with no lyrics so I challenged myself to do that last week and it went pretty well. This week we've moved onto the blues. We're using the Twelve Bar Blues, and we learned the blues scale. We'll see how it goes! The best part of class is listening to everyone perform their pieces. It's so invigorating being surrounded by talented individuals. Everyone is so different and their styles and voices always surprise me!

Off to class. Enjoy the pictures!

A Look Back at First Semester

It's hard to believe that it's the last week of my first semester of graduate school. I know it's been a while since I last updated. I came to realize as the semester went on that part of what makes my program work is that everything is a surprise. The faculty work very diligently to lead the class into each lesson seamlessly without giving anything away in advance. It creates an atmosphere of discovery and adventure. By openly blogging about our creation prompts and lessons I felt like I could potentially reveal too much to others that might venture to take this program.

So I'm working out how best to record my adventures without perhaps giving too much away. I'd love to do a recap for myself though!  This first semester starts with nature. We begin our exploration of the physical body through the neutral mask. This is a Lecoq technique with actual leather masks. It has a lot of similarities with Alexander technique. Finding a neutral stance, and learning your bad habits so you can put less stress on your body. By finding neutral it becomes more apparent when the performer makes a conscious choice to change their physicality, and that's the basis for good character work.

We took our neutral mask through nature. Starting in the ocean, landing on the shore, seeing the edge of a forest, entering the forest, traversing through the forest over obstacles, exiting the forest to reach a field, seeing a mountain, climbing the mountain, peaking and seeing over the edge, coming down the mountain (in various forms), coming to a river, crossing the river, entering tall grass, finding a desert, watching the sun set and the stars come out, then exiting. A long journey! The greatest lesson in the neutral mask through this journey is how to see. When you, as the performer, see what is ahead you allow the audience to see. This is the basis for everything we covered this semester. How does a performer create space. By making sure the mask (aka your face because eventually the mask comes off) faces out, and taking the time to make the gaze specific to the coming space, a performer can create the world before it is entered into. The eyes must always be out and seen.

Throughout this process the faculty was determined that we would be as specific and realistic as possible. We took a trip to the ocean and practiced turning around and seeing it for the first time. Where was your eye drawn? How did your breath change? What was the measure of time it took to see it all?  We also practiced entering and exiting water of different heights. Dry sand to wet sand to shallow water to current catching to waist deep and then shoulders deep. How does the tide move your body? There was so much specificity to be learned.  When we returned to the classroom it was our job to create this same physicality without set or props. Gaze, breath, and physicality. We practiced by breaking the process into steps. Walking on sand, the grabbing of the toes, and then an incremental walk into the water and the difference in weight distribution.

When we'd moved on from the original journey of the neutral mask we took it on different adventures. We did the same journey but called 'Cataclysms' where in each step something big changes the landscape. There was a hurricane in the ocean, a fire in the forest, an avalanche of rocks on the mountain, a volcanic explosion when you reached the top that carried you off, rapids in the river, a tornado in the grass, and a sandstorm in the dessert. How does the physicality change? And how do you keep your face completely neutral through these when not wearing the neutral mask? That was definitely the hardest part. The mask is always neutral, and it teaches you that even after it is gone, your mask should remain neutral too. The facial neutrality allows an audience to stop focusing on that area of the body for clues to how they should respond. Instead it redirects focus to the rest of the body and allows the whole to tell a story. So whenever you're traveling through the cataclysms you have to show a a change in space with your body, but not your face.

Another difficult skill to master is that the story is told by traversing space. It doesn't need to be a struggle. It can be very indulgent and uninteresting to watch a body struggle though space. Climbing the mountain even in an avalanche need not be difficult, because the neutral mask can only move forward. There is no thinking that needs to happen. You can search for the next foothold, but you can only do so if you can do it un-intellectually. Fun, right?  The other challenge was how to recycle space. These journeys have to feel like they're outside of the room you're performing in, and performances often happen in small enclosed spaces. So without a proscenium to help you, how can you continue to cross the same space but make it look different every time?

We incorporate the neutral mask in everything. From there we traveled through different bodies of water. Water seeping from rocks inside a cave, sweating until dripping, then the drips trickle into a creek which becomes a stream which became a river. The river then had a dam which led to a waterfall which led to a larger river with rushing rapids that eventually led to the ocean. In these exercises we put our bodies in the space not as if we ourselves were in the water--but as if we were water itself.  We tackled the elements. We became fire in all its different forms (ash, smoke, spark, burning), and air (hurricane/tornado force, gentle breeze, kite flying weather), and earth (mud, dirt, trees). In each of these forms we started with the breath of the element, and then the gaze. We found the physicality from these and as we physically became them we allowed our breath to create the voice we would use and then improvised language.

This spawned one of my personal favorite creations this semester (spoiler alert: the awkward party). My group decided to be 12 year olds having their first boy girl party and all the awkwardness that comes with greeting parents, being alone in a room with no chaperone, and playing a game of twister. It was fascinating creating scenes where elements inspired characters, but we used those elements to show our interactions. So air can stoke a fire to be bigger, fire can burn earth or earth can put out a fire. Water can put out a fire, or fire can boil water. So many choices!  Suffice to say that everyone thought our party was incredibly awkward once all the elements ended up close together on a twister mat. I should mention this was at the same time that we were practicing 'clocking' in Jeu (Play). Clocking is when a performer turns their mask (face) out to the audience. So you're performing an action as if it's normal and then you face forward. This reads as a comment on the action. The comment is up to the performer. We ended our party with all of us in awkward positions on the mat and then turning to clock the audience, allowing them to feel part of it.

Jeu was a class that took me awhile to get the hang of (actually I'm not sure I ever did get the hang of it), but once I got going it was incredibly freeing. This class allowed us to explore body physicality through games. A lot of class we would put two people in the middle and they would start doing abstract movements until a game was established (even if the game was something as silly as I touch your foot and then you touch mine, or as intricate as basketball) and then once the audience could say what the game was the performers would abstract it again until a new game was formed. In this game the challenge was to try not to necessarily play a real game, and to try and create a relationship with your partner where no one person was leading. So it couldn't be a switch off between who would create the next game. Through breath and listening and repetition of movements the duo would decide simultaneously that they had the next game. Difficult to master but easier the more you do it!

We also played structured games. We played serious games of imaginary tennis with the only goal being to match what your partner was doing so you were playing at the same level. We played a game where you and your partner had to keep the same amount of space between you. So if one person moved forward the other had to move back, same with side to side motion. And if there was a mistake made that changed the space then you had to agree on the new space between you and play that game instead. We played a game where you had to create an object with your hands in space, play with that object until the audience could name it, pass that exact object to another person in the circle who played with it in the same way, and then they had to reshape that object into something else and do the same thing.

All of these games require you to not think. Thinking is the death of play. We played a game of who could die bigger. The weapons would change, but one person would be killed by another, then come back to life and kill the person who killed them, who would come back to life and it would go in a circle endlessly until it felt like the death was as big as it could possibly be.  This class was sometimes difficult in the beginning because each time a new pair started a new game it felt as if the rules changed. I soon realized that the point of the class was that there was no rules at all and that doing something as big as possible was really the name of every game. Take risks, fail big, don't think.

This all feeds into our improvisation classes. In improv we often practice our next step of the neutral mask. We went from elements to colors to paintings to pictures to music and we're finishing the semester with animals. Improv is our opportunity to explore the physicality of these and discover how to perform them with a universal language. How can I be the color blue and have the audience know I'm the color blue? What is the dynamic of the color blue? The rhythm? The breath? How long does it last? What shade is it? A class like Jeu can really free up your body to tackle these questions. I once worked for one week trying to be a picture of a multicolor carpet in a Vegas casino. The script I wrote for this said, "Wa wa waaaa wow wowee woah winding willowy watermelon wildebeasts Welcome!"  And that was normal.

In movement analysis we worked on different 'attitudes'. These are movements working with fixed point. Creating a stick in space, grabbing it, shifting it from horizontal to vertical, and back again. How do you release in a way that the audience believes you don't still have it? Can you leave it in space with your gaze even if your hand isn't touching it? Of course to get there we practiced throwing around real sticks a lot. Can you throw and catch silently? How do you cushion a blow?  We moved imaginary tables and set them. We learned to juggle and do plate tricks. We became different forms of light (starlight, moonlight, sunlight, sun through trees) and then said Shakespeare with our movements. We practiced seeing and climbing walls. We became different materials with our bodies. How does honey leave a jar? How does it land on a new surface? Can your body become the consistency of honey even though you have bones and joints and fingers?

Mostly what we learned this semester is that having bones and joints and fingers and arms and legs makes being other things that aren't human very very difficult. But eventually in all of these explorations we dial back the material/color/element/picture and put the physicality in our bodies as human. Maybe you're 50/50. Or maybe you're 80% one and only 20% the other. Where does the human body take over? When does language become necessary?

I've really enjoyed leaving out language this semester. I thought it would be difficult since I've had a career in popular theatre. This means reciting a script first and physicality last. But this has been such an amazing experience to flip what I know on its head. When the physicality is focused on, it can inform the voice, and the words aren't necessary unless the body can't tell the story alone. And most of the time it feels like it can. I know we'll be adding words back in soon this next semester and that will be a challenge. A lot of times when we speak as these characters we create, it feels like we become a parody instead of embodying it wholly. Such a difficult balance!

Throughout all this we also had our marvelous voice class. We learned different resonators (chest, nasal, mouth) and worked on placement. We've practiced mimicking sound because once your learn placement for yourself it's useful to know if you can recognize placement in someone else and copy it. In fact, this class is where I learn the most pedagogy. We spend so much time watching each of us individually discover whatever the vocal lesson is that by the end you know how to do it as much as you know when you hear it or see it. This means I can tell where someone is placing their voice. Which is really useful.

In our music skills class we're rounding out the semester by writing our own songs. I really didn't know if it was possible to come so far so fast. Our professor told us we'd be writing songs by the end of the class, but it seemed so far off. I actually really like the song I wrote, and I'm looking forward to second semester of music skills where all we'll do will be writing songs. It's hard, but it's such a great skill to have!

I have one final creation showing this week, an evaluation from my professors, and then I'm off for winter break. I plan to do a lot of strength building to stay strong for second semester acrobatics. This semester was somersaults, cartwheels, and handstands. Who knows what next semester holds?

One Place, One Event

Each week we're split into groups, given a general prompt, and then we spend time each day as an ensemble creating a piece of theatre that corresponds to the prompt. The first week was 'Creation of the world' and this last week was 'One place, One event'. In my first group we began by each creating our own 'world' to play in and we played as a group until we found several ideas that resonated. Then we expanded those ideas through play until we found an arc with a beginning, middle, and end. It was such a new experience for me, basically performing improv until an idea forms instead of forming an idea and then trying to create it. But like all new things, it got better with practice.

You can ignore parts of this post that will get into details that won't matter to anyone but me. Remember this blog is also my actor journal for me to remember and describe lessons, so I'm sure some of this won't be interesting for the average reader.

Now on week two it was exciting going in with the prompt and knowing that I could confidently create something. Week one we worked with no voices or props. It was about creating pictures with your body and using sound with no words. My group formed shapes along the walls in the room while I knelt in the middle. They slowly peeled themselves off the wall and began to walk in a rhythmic circle around me, beginning a syncopated pounding heartbeat with their hands until they were running. They stopped as one, put their hands into the middle of the circle onto my back and began to breathe with my movements. I went up and down until I was 'born' from the middle of the circle with a gasp. On my gasp the breath was taken from each ensemble member until they all fell down. I revived them with my breath again, and we began to make relationships. We mimicked movements and mirrored each other. Then one member makes the first sound. We then discovered how to copy the sound. Then we discovered touch and then play. The touch became violent until one ensemble member was shoved to the ground by me. We discovered violence. This member was then encircled again as I had been in the beginning, but when they broke out of the breathing circle and stole the breath from us we weren't able to be revived. The last moment was the sound of loss. 

Writing this in detail it sounds very artsy, but in action we created life, relationship, sound, touch, and then cycled to death.  It felt very powerful to use body without words and I really enjoyed the experience because the story line was very specific. There were other creations that were made of vignettes, and somehow each creation piece at some point included all bodies standing in a circle and then falling down (just like ours). So strange! On creation day the faculty all sits in and then critiques. The general feedback on week one was to simplify, be specific, and follow the prompt. We learned how easy it is to get carried away. My group had positive feedback and we were really proud of the piece, but the consensus was that we created 'the world' in the first 1/3 of our piece, and the rest was a continuation. That's a good example of how we could have simplified the piece. They also commented how each group had mostly depicted a human experience and that we had forgotten other elements.

So for week two my group took the general feedback to heart. We wanted to play with nature this time. In movement and improv classes this week we practiced this exercise of creating a place. My cohort created a park and we spent several class periods being characters in a park and learned to expand the room so it felt like there weren't walls, control voices so they felt the way they would outside, and focused on not stealing focus.  We wanted to incorporate these lessons into our creation project so we picked the ocean as our place, and the event was the rising of the tide on a beach. It took a few days to solidify the best way to create waves with our bodies (and I have the bruises to prove it), but we finally picked four of us to stagger in a pattern on the floor with our bodies lying down straight like a log. We wanted to play with perspective so we began as if the audience was looking at the ocean horizon. We rocked slowly and made soft ocean noises. Then the rocking turned into rolling forward towards the audience with the sounds of waves crashing on the shore. At this point one of our ensemble entered as a child to build a sandcastle. Our rolling waves became bigger until we brought them to shore. Two of us became sea foam using our arms to replicate the tide dragging sand backwards, while two in the back became the crest of waves. We attempted to crescendo the sound as we got closer to shore, and built the tension towards the object of ruining the child's sandcastle until it had been completely swallowed by the ocean and the child ran off.

The other ensembles created a tree that was cut down, a cave where someone found gold, and the world before a volcanic eruption. Their feedback was that the place wasn't specific enough, and that the even took too long to happen or that there were multiple events and it was unclear. Overall the faculty seemed really intrigued by our piece, and said that the place was very clear. However, they as an audience had an expectation that there was danger to the child and that the event would in fact be more ominous. Professor Q said there are two types of theatre. One is when the actors know more than the audience and the audience has to figure out the story and catch up to the actors. The other is when the audience knows something the actors don't and the actor has to figure it out. If we were to do this piece again they wanted an exploration of what it feels like for the audience to know more about something than the actor. They wanted the beautiful moment of when our child would discover the danger they were in the same way the audience felt they were in danger. I found that so interesting! And something that hadn't occurred to me. We were attempting to simplify our event, so I hadn't considered something so big as drowning a child. But they said that our place was so big that the event ruined our crescendo. It was a let down. We needed to match the beginning with the end. It definitely made me want to explore the piece further. But I'm also excited to not roll around on my bruises anymore.

In other news this week we saw our first fringe show at the Philadelphia Fringe Festival. It was called The Accountant and I'm sure I'll write more about it later. It had some spectacular special effects and a stunning sound design.

In movement analysis this week we worked on Lecoq's Seven Levels of Tension.  This is one of numerous acting techniques and something that was fun to add to my repertoire.   My graduate school faculty studied (for the most part) at The Lecoq School of Physical Theatre in Paris, so we'll be using a lot of these methods throughout my time here.
Levels:
1. Tired, lethargy, exhaustion
2. California, Cowboy, laid back
3. Efficiency, Neutral
4. Alert
5. Suspense
6. Passion
7. Hypertension, Tragic

We embodied each of these in class over the week, sometimes creating stories as an ensemble or in small groups. I'm excited to play with these more.

Our music theory class this week (our longest class at three hours) was a lot of work! We worked on scales, which I'm grateful I already know, finger placement on piano, rhythm, and solfeggio. We'll be performing the C scale and our own written melodies next class.

In voice class we're working on diaphragmatic breathing exercises and using sound on breath. I'm also finishing up reading Artaud's The Theatre and Its Double for seminar this Monday. I'm excited for this seminar class especially because we'll really be focusing on the history of physical theatre and the companies that have done and currently do it.

I've got a busy weekend ahead of me. Another fringe show to see, and several assignments to complete!

A Flying Leap

My class is apparently the largest class since my MFA program was created. There are 19 of us total, and every single class we have to reintroduce ourselves to our new professors. It's amusing to watch them attempt to remember our names, but I admit that I can't wait until we don't have to play name games or stand in a circle and introduce ourselves anymore. We're in such a routine with it now as a cohort because we've done it so much. I believe we have one more instructor we haven't met. Thank goodness!

So I titled today's post based on an exercise we did in improv yesterday. 18 of us stood in two diagonal lines two feet apart and held our arms out in a zipper fashion so everyone was forming a cradle. Then one person ran from across the room and took a flying leap into our arms and attempted to jump far enough that they could reach the arms of those cradling on the far end. I was terrified because our arms were just held out on our own strength, not reinforced in anyway by the people across from or beside us. When it was my turn to stand in the front and catch it was really difficult to catch people because there was so much weight and momentum! And it was terrifying. But not as terrifying as leaping. I took a turn and the first time I went I shot like a bullet straight at the arms instead of lifting myself higher into the air. Professor Q gave me another shot. One of the things I've been enjoying most is when I take a turn in any class it gets analyzed and then usually there's direct feedback and the opportunity to try again. The next time I jumped too soon, but definitely made it all the way into the arms. I was given a third try and this time managed to springboard at the right moment and flew into my cohorts' arms. It was exhilarating! Writing this I can still feel the adrenaline. I was proud of myself for volunteering even though I wasn't sure I'd do it well. The fear of failure is something I told myself I wouldn't allow into my training for the next 2.5 years.

I received some really great advice my first time meeting some of the upperclassmen. I was told that since my class is so large I should take every opportunity available to have a turn in class. They said that there wouldn't always be enough time to have everyone take a turn, and it's up to me to make the most of my investment and really put myself out there. The lessons aren't repeated so if you don't take your turn, you miss an opportunity to practice instead of watch. They said even if I felt guilty to always be the volunteer to never give up my chance to participate.

I really took that advice to heart and I've volunteered in every class so far. It's true, there hasn't been enough time for everyone to have the chance to participate. It's felt really great to get up and play instead of being a bystander! And even when I wasn't sure I wanted a turn, I made sure I took one.

In addition to improv, I took my first acrobatics class. This semester we're focusing on handstands. That might sound simple to some of you but I've never been able to do one without a wall. I'm really excited to build up the strength to be able to do a handstand. We played a lot of awesome movement games and activities really awakening to our space and bodies. We also formed ensembles and did an exercise where one person in the middle of a circle was straight as a pencil and allowed the group to tip and push and pull their body in every direction, giving complete control of their balance and weight up. It was a good core strengthener and trust builder. I can tell I'm going to love this class and can't wait to focus on my physicality! I know I've allowed myself to get our of shape and there's so much I want to accomplish in this class that I can't wait to get to the fitness level to do it. I'm feeling very motivated!

I had my first class of Jeu (which means Play) yesterday as well. This is a class where we just...play. We didn't use words. We just walked in and started doing whatever we felt like until we were all playing one game, which yesterday just consisted of a lot of people dying. Eventually I think it will become a more guided class with prompts, but it was great to let go for an hour.

I also had my first voice lesson and I can tell I'm going to learn a lot this semester. It will be great to be taking private voice at the same time that I have a music theory class. On Wednesdays we have music theory for three hours. We'll be learning piano, music progression, ear training, intervals, composition, and a bunch of other things I can't remember. I'm really excited to get back into the music side of performance in a way that doesn't necessarily include musical theatre. I know I'll be getting training in that as well, but just having the opportunity to work on composing, sight reading, and ear training is going to be so useful in the future.

I see graduate school as the place that will help me fill in all the gaps I've discovered in my professional training. So far my MFA is proving to do just that. I'm so excited to focus on these holes and have the time and guidance to fill them. I'll be learning new skills every day, letting go of old habits, and strengthening myself in mind and body.

Today in Improv with Professor M we did an exercise where someone had to volunteer to stand in front of the class with us as the audience and just do nothing. Breathe, be present, be aware, make eye contact but do nothing. For some reason this was something I excelled at today. When trying to puzzle out why I felt ease when performing this task compared to some of my cohort I realized that it was because I feel very strongly that I belong. I feel comfortable and excited and ready. I mean, there was the part where I had to act like a giant ogre before I settled into breathing with depth and a neutral mask, but that was only to be expected, right?

I can definitely say I'm sore from these last few days. I have blisters and bruises and muscles that feel like jelly. Luckily my Movement Analysis class with Professor S was a great class to stretch and settle into the sore places. Today we focused on walking as different characters. How long does it take for your arms to move? Are they out of sync with your legs? What part of your body do you lead with? Professor S notices so many intricacies and loves to point them out and create characters of her own out of them. I can tell every lesson in that class is going to be very enlightening.

My creation piece from this week is coming together nicely and I'm learning a lot from the process. We were given the prompt 'Create the world'. We split ourselves into three groups on Monday and on Friday we'll perform our devised pieces in ensemble. Instead of talking about the prompt my group got on their feet and we each took a turn creating a space and leading the group in play to 'create a world'. Then we played further with the most coherent ideas that struck our fancies, and now we're almost finished composing. It's interesting to be at the point where in a normal show you'd worry about specificity. In devising it's more allowable to say that the chaos and messiness is almost the point and that the specificity could potentially take away meaning. I'm interested to explore this concept throughout the program. I'm sure different ensembles will think of this differently, and when we're studying different subjects in our classes I think our thought process will change as well. Watching a non-narrative show this week definitely affected our outlook.

Tomorrow I will play some more! For now, I'm off to bed for a night of rest and strength rebuilding.

A Graduate School Beginning

I'm going back to my roots! Years ago I started this blog to follow my journey through undergrad and catalog my professional career.  Today begins my journey into graduate school. This has been a long time coming. I remember writing a list of my top ten graduate programs in my freshmen year of my BFA and I posted it on the wall beside my bed. I'm very goal oriented. Needless to say, I'm attending a program that would never have been on that list because I didn't know anything like it existed. But we'll get to that.

First let's catch up to now. When I moved from Seattle to Austin I suspected I'd have many experiences to write about, but as it turns out Austin doesn't actually pay their actors a living wage. I suppose I shouldn't blame the city itself, but the funding of the institutions there definitely has a long way to go.

I completed two separate tours with the National Theatre for Children in Minneapolis and I worked in the box office of the fantastic Zach Theatre in Austin itself, but honestly I wasn't enjoying my time. The only regional work to be had through unified auditions was children's theatre and summer stock, and the shows in Austin couldn't pay enough to justify the cost of living and commute time. In the end I decided to take another stab at the URTA auditions. Unlike my first foray when I went to Chicago, this January I chose to audition in New York.

I had some strategy this time, now that I knew how to play the game. In Chicago you had the advantage of being one stop closer to the end of the schools' audition process. You could possibly be more easily remembered. However, I thought this time around it would be more advantageous to be the first in line. In the end, it definitely worked to my advantage! The schools were invigorated because it was the exciting beginning of the process. They seemed to listen more in the auditions (which resulted in more callbacks than my first time), and the callbacks had more energy and enthusiasm. I had 23 callbacks this year, and out of all the schools I strongly considered several classic theatre MFAs. I'd always thought that I'd want to attend graduate school only if it was free because there are so many amazing programs right now that are paying students to go. But throughout the callback process and the auditions at schools I couldn't help but feel like these programs were continuations of my BFA.

I've always felt like my BFA was the best education I could have received. I judged this on the fact that I was personally and professionally fulfilled after receiving it. I've worked so much, and my resume is so broad. When thinking about taking myself out of the job market for 2 to 3 years, I began to believe it was a waste to receive the same kind of degree. I could justify it if my original degree wasn't getting me work, or even if I felt like I was losing the technique in the echo chamber of professional acting. I know some people attend graduate school purely because they want more time to focus on themselves again without the pressure of the outside world and really get into the nitty gritty of method acting.

None of these scenarios fit me. Instead I knew that I was unhappy with the growth of my career. Regional theatres had offered me several exciting roles, but without more connections I didn't feel like I would continue to get enough work at that level. Children's theatre and touring shows were becoming tiresome because I felt like I was taking those jobs just to continue to get a paycheck as a working actor. I wanted to feel more in control of my career. I wanted the skills to create work, build a company, and the opportunity to find an ensemble to flesh out the brave new world I was imagining. I wanted to learn about funding opportunities and how to build my own tour. I wanted to network with people that were creating work not just acting in someone else's show. These are things I'd dreamed of doing, and yet I felt like I hadn't met the right people to show me the way. Seven years out of school with a great professional resume and I hadn't learned how to be more than extremely hire-able. It was time for me to take a leap of faith and choose a program that fit the niche I was trying to carve out for myself.

I struggled at first with my decision because I was leaning towards a program that was extremely unique -- Devised Performance. I craved that quality in my work and my career and I knew what I wanted, but I had voices of reason that reminded me to look at all the angles before making such a life changing decision. Based on my reputation there were those who I looked to for advice that weren't sure this program would be the right fit.

It's day one of my Graduate School Career, and I'm positive I made the right choice. There isn't another program out there that could come close to inspiring me the way I've been inspired today or push me the way I know I'll be pushed. I'm going to be challenged and stretched, I'm going to fail and fall, and in two and a half years I'm going to come out the other side with opportunities I'd never imagined for myself because I'd never known where to look. I'm so grateful I found my fit, and that I'm relearning what it feels like to feel inspired. It's been a very long time since I've felt this way, and it's going to be a crazy few years in Philadelphia!

Day One:
Today I had Movement Analysis, Improv, Creation, and Theatre History Seminar.  Basically I spent the day stretching, rolling, falling, and catching. I played dead, led the blind, was the blind, fought the monster, became the monster, played at recess, and birthed a planet. I felt what it was to be silent and still, and found my forward motion. I also squatted too much. I'm sure I'll feel it tomorrow.

Aside from all the amazing fun movement work and creation I experienced today, my Theatre History Seminar jumped right into subsidized theatre funding in Europe and the models that we haven't managed to recreate in America. This is what I'm so very excited about. I can't wait to delve into what's working in other cultures and societies and learn how to mimic it in a way that can successfully fund a company here. I have so many questions, and even though the class was two hours there wasn't nearly enough time to answer them. I'm so ready to have the class every week! Our Theatre History is more about studying other groups and players who have a hand in creating work similar to what my program is about. So we'll learn about how others have successfully done what we're attempting, and see the different forms that can take. Today we watched Inferno by Romeo Castellucci. It was a performance done at the Festival d'Avignon which is a huge deal. It had a $4 million budget. I think I'll be digesting the performance for a while because I've never seen anything like it. Castellucci specializes in non-linear or non-narrative forms of theatre. Which means that when you watch the ensemble work on stage it leaves you with impressions. It's about images and feelings and doesn't necessarily follow the arc of a character or story. There were many vignettes and so much going on: live animals, small children in boxes, death and destruction. And no speaking. An hour and a half of silence vocally, but so many sound effects. I'm excited to see more examples of other work in the future.

Tomorrow I begin my private voice lessons. And acrobatics. Did I mention how stoked I am for acrobatics? I'm exhausted in the happiest way! Here's to a great first week!