I’m waiting for an answer. I’m pretty sure that answer will be “no” and that I’ll have an entire year of freedom in front of me to fill.
What am I saying “a year”? I’ll have whatever time I have in front of me free and empty…
See, my steady nine to five life is coming to an end in three months and then… what?
This is what freedom/standing at the edge of the unknown looks like. Except that in this metaphor, there should only be one shadow. (Ngorongoro Crater, Tanzania)
There are two (known and admittedly awesome) ways this thing called my life could go starting in July.
I’ve applied for a year-long directing internship at a fantastic theatre that will remain nameless for jinxing purposes. I’ve been waiting for an answer, a hint either way, for a couple of months now (that’s what you get when you apply early… damned keenness).
I feel like I’ll know soon, but it’ll never be soon enough (patience running out). I’ve given myself permission to email them on Wednesday to see what’s up. Maybe they don’t tell losers they didn’t get it.
If I don’t get it (which is likely), that means I’m actually going around the world. Actually, this time. (Last time I had this plan, it ended up being a 5-week trip to East Africa which, while absolutely amazing, was not around the world, I’m sure you’ll agree.)
Another world. But not actually around the world. Kenya, November 2010.
So while I’ve been waiting for the inevitable “sorry, we’ve chosen someone else for this internship,” I’ve found a cheap ticket to the other side of the globe. But I’m waiting for that no first. Because it might not be a “no”.
I’ve found out what the exchange rate is for the Fijian dollar. I’ve realized I have enough Via Preference points to get from Toronto to Vancouver on the train for free. I’ve looked at backpack options at MEC and even elsewhere. I’ve promised friends in India and California I’ll visit.
I’m ready to go! Or rather, I’m ready to start thinking of getting ready to go!
This also is a metaphor. Lamu, Kenya.
But what if I get the internship? Then I’d pack up a suitcase and jump on a bus to get a year of experience in the field I’m desperate to work in, a field that seems pretty impenetrable at the moment. They don’t pay much (what’s new?), but they give you an apartment to live in (!). It’s too perfect not to believe it wasn’t made for me. But last year, when I applied, it wasn’t meant for me. Visualisation exercises don’t work, by the way. They just make for harsh awakenings.
But this year, my harsh awakening will be that of getting to travel, getting to throw my savings into flights and travel gizmos and a new camera.
Lamu, Kenya. November 2010.
So… any tips on managing impatience and lack of control? Because I am starting to lose it.
Even with translations, theatre festivals like the World Stage in Toronto, and theatre companies touring the globe, it’s sometimes possible to get a glimpse of the theatre that is happening around the world.
But theatre is a live event, and you have to actually be in a place, during a time, to experience it. And thing is, with the Internet, we know what shows we’re missing in the places we are not.
So it got me thinking: if I were somewhere else in the world on March 27th, which play would I attend to celebrate World Theatre Day?
Here are a few of my picks (turns out the world is big and there’s a lot going on). Maybe one of you could go check these out for me and report back?
I’m going to start with my top pick (because it’s a festival of international theatre, so I’m totally cheating) and the rest is in no particular order.
BOGOTÁ, Colombia Festival Iberoamericano de Teatro The Latin American Theatre Festival is like the best of the entire world of theatre crammed into one city. Theatre will literally be spilling out of traditional theatre spaces and into the streets. 33 countries are represented, but Romania is featured this year, which should mean there’ll be a lot of bold, theatrical stuff out there. Such as:
Lydia Wilson and Jack Gordon in ’Tis Pity She’s a Whore, at BAM Photo by Richard Termine
LONDON, England Roald Dahl’s Matilda the Musical by Dennis Kelly (book) and Tim Minchin (music+lyrics)
At the Cambridge Theatre
Because I adored the book so much as a child and that my doubts about this one were squashed by people who know what they’re talking about. It’s got swings! And it doesn’t seem to have washed out too much of Roald Dahl’s irreverence and joy.
The RSC Production of Roald Dahl's Matilda The Musical. Photo by Manuel Harlan
BERLIN, Germany Lulu by Frank Wedekind, directed by Robert Wilson.
At the Berliner Ensemble
Because I don’t know where would be better to see this twisted, gritty, expressionist play about the rise and fall of a femme fatale than at the theatre founded by Brecht in 1949. And with the legendary Robert Wilson at the helm and music by Lou Reed, I’d be there in a heartbeat (knowing full well I wouldn’t understand a word). Just look at it:
WELLINGTON, New Zealand Peninsula by Gary Henderson, directed by Jane Waddell
At Circa Theatre Because it’s about a kid who sleeps on a volcano.
Peninsula
SYDNEY, Australia Every Breath written and directed by Benedict Andrews
At Belvoir St Theatre
Because I’m obsessed with Benedict Andrews (check out the production photos on his website and you’ll see what I mean) and I’d be curious to see a show written by such an imaginative, innovative, courageous director.
Every Breath
NEW YORK, United States of America Once- the musical. By Glen Hansard and Markéta Irglová (music+lyrics), Enda Walsh (book), directed by John Tiffany
At the Bernard B. Jacobs Theatre
This is a Broadway musical based on one of the most subtly romantic, charmingly unpretentious films, so my initial reaction upon hearing this play existed was a terrified guffaw. I love the movie. But then I saw that the book was written by Enda Walsh. So it couldn’t be too bad. I’d go because it could be good.
Photo: Sara Krulwich/The New York Times
CALGARY, Canada Mary’s Wedding by Stephen Massicotte, directed by Bob White
At Martha Cohen Theatre, Alberta Theatre Projects
A beautiful script full of things Canadians love (horses, weddings, the First World War…), staged at one of Canada’s most exciting theatres (which I have never been to).
CAPE TOWN, South Africa Brothers in Blood by Mike van Graan, directed by Greg Homan
At Artscape
This one looks explosive, taking on as many taboo topics as will fit in one award-winning play: xenophobia, religious arrogance, the drug trade, fatherhood…
Brothers in Blood
MONTREAL, Canada Midsummer (une pièce et neuf chansons) by David Greig and Gordon McIntyre, translated by Olivier Choinière, directed by Philippe Lambert
At La Petite Licorne/La Manufacture
This “play and nine songs” was a hit at the Edinburgh Fringe a few years ago, and that it’s being staged at my favourite theatre in Montreal (which happens to have a long history of staging amazing translationsof new Scottish, Irish, and British plays), so it’s bound to be awesome.
Isabelle Blais and Pierre-Luc Brillant Photo credit: Suzane O'Neill
PARIS, France The Suit by Peter Brook and Marie-Helène Estienne, based on the story by Can Themba
At Théâtre des Bouffes du Nord
Because it’s a musical by Peter Brook.
TOKYO, Japan Condors “Hungry Like a Wolf” directed and choreographed by Ryohei Kondo
At the Setagaya Public Theatre A children’s show that combines dance, theatre, skits, and puppetry. I’m in, if a kids’ show looks like this:
photo by HARU
VIENNA, Austria Das blinde Geschehen by Botho Strauß, directed by Matthias Hartmann
At Burgtheater I can only get so far with Google translate, so I’m not too sure what this is about, but it’s really just the images of this play that make me want to jump on a plane and go to Austria.
Alexandra Henkel, Christiane von Poelnitz, Adina Vetter, Regina Fritsch, Hermann Scheidleder, and Sabine Haupt. Photo copyright: Reinhard Werner, Burgtheater
Photo copyright: Reinhard Werner, Burgtheater
HONG KONG, China Diving in the Moment directed by 張藝生
At the Hong Kong Repertory Theatre I’m not sure exactly what this play is, but it looks cool. [Stay tuned for more fascinating and informed insights like this one- subscribe to my blog.]
Diving in the Moment
SINGAPORE Krishnan’s Diary by Jacob Rajan
At the Singapore Repertory Theatre Apparently this play takes two of the most universal Indian clichés – the Taj Mahal and the corner store – and fuses them into a funny and touching love story. An Indian play about a couple who moves to New Zealand, staged in Singapore: perfect for World Theatre Day!
Krishnan's Diary
COPENHAGEN, Denmark Dybet by Jon Atli Jonasson
At Teater Får302
Because “The Deep” is an Icelandic play based on a true story of the sinking of a fishing boat being staged in Denmark. I have a think for Danish acting.
ROME, Italy I Masnadieri by Friedrich Schiller, directed by Gabriele Lavia Teatro di Roma Because why not see a Schiller play in Rome?
Photo: Il Rossetti
I haven’t even scratched the surface of all the exciting theatre happening in the world this week. What will you be doing to celebrate World Theatre Day on Tuesday?
I like to think that I know what is going on on Toronto’s stages, but I must admit that there are times when I am just plain out of the loop (this seems to be happening more and more often… an effect of age?).
So I was really surprised that I missed the fact that Danny Bhoy- a Scottish comedian that I look up on YouTube any time I need to laugh so hard it hurts- was doing his show Wanderlust at Massey Hall in Toronto on Friday.
So what happened was: I flaked out on my plans and bought a ticket. I did have to ask myself “What would I do if I wasn’t in Toronto?” and the answer was: I’d actually be taking advantage of the place I was in.
If I were travelling and Danny Bhoy happened to be doing a show in, say, Glasgow or Reykjavik or Ballarat, or wherever I was, I’d spend £30 on a ticket without thinking about it. I mean, look at him in that Amnesty International T-shirt.
Why was I hesitating? I plugged my nose and swallowed the $14 of fees (fees for what, Just for Laughs, fees for what?) and booked my seat in the last row of the top balcony.
I had a lovely view of a speaker, a pillar, and the top of his head when he was stage left. But I laughed until it hurt for 90 minutes straight.
A seat with a view
Despite having to rely mostly on my ears to follow his show, I almost fell off my seat a couple of times because I was laughing so hard (maybe his hilarity combined with a bit of vertigo will do that).
It must be tough to be a comedian in the age of social media- I mean, you get to reach a huge following (example: a Scottish comedian selling out Massey Hall), but it must also mean you’d have to come up with a heck of a lot more material a lot faster than you would have had to have done even just 10 years ago.
But though I recognised some set ups and gags (as I said, I watch clips of his shows on YouTube any time I need to laugh), that didn’t matter- still I laughed. Maybe people who don’t realise he’s not actually coming up with everything he’s saying on the spot (he’s very spontaneous in his story-telling) would be disappointed. But they can suck it. This show was so finely crafted and beautifully delivered that I might as well stop trying to write.
And to top it all off, Danny Bhoy seems to have the same itchy feet as me- he’s suffered from wanderlust since he was a kid, he said (hence the name of his show). And that makes me feel like we can relate, which makes me feel special, just like everyone else. His comedy plays a lot on what he’s observed throughout his travels (he tours a heck of a lot in Australia and Canada, both “stupidly big” countries) and I think you’ll agree that his accent work is spot on:
It was a brilliant show and I laughed the entire time. From my seat in the high heavens, I could see right into the wings, and right over the audience. Massey Hall is massive. Its stairwells are overheated and its balcony seats are just as comfortable as very small uncomfortable pews.
The history is palpable in that place. And I’m not only talking about waves of nostalgia coming over me as I remembered one of my first real concerts, surrounded by my big brother and his cool friends, sitting in the balcony peering down at the righteous babe herself, Ani Difranco circa 1998.
Massey Hall is a very cool old building, a rarity in Toronto- a city that seems to arrogantly knock down our ever-diminishing architectural history to build condos and malls (but mostly condos). The Hall with red doors was given to the city by the Massey family (who owned everything, and I mean everything in Toronto at the turn of last century) in 1894. In 1975 it was designated a heritage property. Hopefully it will stay standing for a long while and welcome more shows and concerts that I will splurge to see.
On this Saint Patrick’s day, I realised that my visits to Ireland in high school were my first real taste of independent travel (independent in the sense that parents were not there). Although not exactly solo trips (good friends took these first steps with me), they definitely woke the travel bug in me and gave my feet that incurable itch.
It was a summer of reading, taking chances, and getting a little taste of freedom (and butter sandwiches).
This was what Howth looked like in the 1990s.
I was already a theatre nerd and was therefore very excited to see Dancing at Lughnasa at the Abbey Theatre.
We got to go to the Galway Arts Festival and we caught a play that would change everything: Shockheaded Peter
When we were on the west coast, the Galway Arts Festival was in full swing and I got to see Shockheaded Peter. To get an idea of this show and how it would change the way I saw theatre, discover what was possible on a stage, and set the bar very very high for all the theatre I would see from then on, check this out:
One of my favourite stories in Shockheaded Peter was the one about the hare that shoots the hunter. This exceptional illustration taken from my diary.
Ok, so Shockheaded Peter isn’t Irish, though I did first see it in a tent set up in a parking lot in Galway…
Back to Ireland. Here’s something we did in Ireland in the summer of ’99:
Sara-Jane and I, after a visit to the Irish Film Centre, eating Leo Burdock's fish and chips, on some church's lawn in Dublin.
When I was in high school, I may or may not have had the habit of snapping pics of boys I thought were nice looking while pretending to take an interestingly-composed slice of life photograph.
Casual picture of Dublin guys hanging out in front of Trinity (ahem: far left).
“We went to a pub called Scott’s in Dun Laoghaire and S-J and I got a half-pint of Guinness. I tried it first. It was quite horrible. I expected it thicker or heavier or something, but the bitterness and aftertaste were disgusting.” -from my diary
I don’t know how I managed it (probably got air miles from my father?), but the next summer I went back to Ireland. I idealised that country and loved not being hot in the summer, the accent, the jam sessions in pubs, the laid-back nature, and the slightly worn romantic natural beauty.
Couldn't get enough of Ireland, so I went back the next summer with my friend Ilana.
We were a bit adventurous. We stayed in places like this.
But at heart we were both theatre nerds, no matter how much we “roughed it”.
Here we are showing off our new Conor McPherson books while sitting in St Stephens's Green in Dublin. Check out the glee in our eyes. Nerds.
Since that summer of 2000 where we cycled on the Aran Islands, walked miles and miles to find salami, saw Juliet Turner play in Wexford, drank many Tia Maria and milks, and bought lovely knit hats, I’ve only been back to Ireland once.
While in the UK doing my degree in directing, I finally fulfilled a longtime dream in 2005 to see the Giant’s Causeway in Northern Ireland. I hadn’t quite thought it through, though. It turns out there’s not much daylight in Northern Ireland in November. But with some good luck, generous people with a car, and a mobile phone, I managed to see the causeway surrounded by an angry sea and get to my hostel afterwards safe and sound and frozen… But I can’t find that photo album at the moment, but I can assure you: the Giant’s Causeway is awe-inspiring.
I hope you are all enjoying your St Patrick’s day as I type this. On my way home from a dinner party, I saw lots of short skirts, colourful puke, and one loser punching his idiot friend in the face on the subway. That’s enough excitement I can handle in one night. Happy St Patrick’s day!
Thank you, Elise, for allowing me to ‘guest post’ on your fabulous blog. [Elise's note: It's amazing having you pop over for a visit from your own fabulous blog Brevity is the mother of invention]
Like Elise, I have been travelling locally recently, in short, to London, half an hour’s train journey from home.
I’m not one for paying to get in to exhibitions, I usually go to the free ones, or peruse the collection. But for Christmas, I was given a ticket to go to the Grayson Perry exhibition at The British Museum – so I had to go, of course (and I wanted to). I was a bit nervous; because all I knew about Perry was that he wore dresses sometimes. We arrived at the British Museum – such a gorgeous building inside and out.
Love this view on a sunny day!
After our packed-lunches, we tripped up the curvy stairs to the exhibition. The first thing we saw was this bike. I over-heard a mum (or auntie) telling a little boy that Perry is a ‘very funny man,’ and felt reassured.
Alan Measles sits in his pope mobile on the back (Photo courtesy of The Guardian)
Inside we separated and I did what I always do – I read all the notices and all the labels (as well as looking at the art). I instinctively read all the writing – but this time I was squatting down and scribbling whole passages into my notebook. I even sketched something (very poorly). I couldn’t tell you my favourite piece, because the exhibition was more of a piece of art in itself than a series of pieces. I loved it. There were discussions about the sacred, about shrines and souvenirs, maps and craft, with an eye to provenance, authenticity and age. The exhibition is called “The Tomb of the Unknown Craftsman” and as well as being generous, beautiful and dense with collected information – it was funny. And he’d compiled the whole thing with great care – everything had its place. “A relaxed, humble, ever-curious love of stuff is central to my idea of being an artist,” Grayson Perry, 2011
So we topped the day with the British Museum and tailed it at the Royal Academy of Arts for the David Hockney “A Bigger Picture” exhibition. We paid for this one too – very unlike us – but if you’re paying for one, why not go nuts and pay for two?
As an aside, I’ll explain that I live in a small village about fifty miles north of London. It takes between 35 and 50 minutes to get to Central London by train, but I just need to step off the train at Euston and I start spending money, so I try to save up the things I want to do and do them all at once.
So, after a short visit to the Turners at the beloved National Gallery, and a cuppa, we wended our way to the Thames’ South Bank – the beautiful bit with the twinkly lights – and refreshed our weary bodies with hot dinners on a boat/restaurant, we headed to our 9pm booking at the RA. We were tired by then and bone-cold. We tried to get in early to the exhibition, but they wouldn’t let us, so instead we read the leaflet sitting on the stairs.
I couldn’t resist this chandelier.
The thing I’d heard about this exhibition was that the pictures were ‘so life affirming’ and ‘huge.’ The pictures are made up from loads of canvases stuck together. Hockney focuses on the seasons in one spot – what happens to the trees, and the fields inside a year – why that matters and how it makes sense. It’s hard to explain on paper what the exhibition does to you – it’s spacious, you are almost in the pictures. But at the same time you want more space to look at the pictures from a distance. The picture that struck us the most was the one below from the Woldgate Woods series – one view in all four seasons, and ‘A Closer Grand Canyon,’ 1998.
"Woldgate Woods, 21, 23 & 29 November 2006" Oil on 6 Canvasess (Copyright David Hockney/photo: Richard Schm Photo courtesy of Yorkshire Telly.
If you’re in London, go and see it. You like me, might be tempted to download the ipad app that he used for one of his series of pictures. I had a go, but perhaps I ought to leave it to the experts!
For more amazing words and images by Debbie, check out her blog about her life as a writer and artist in beautiful Bucks, UK: Brevity is the mother of invention
My father (as way of an apology, perhaps, for a little misunderstanding involving mail addressed to me), sent me a series of photos from his current trip in Australia and New Zealand.
In fact, his travels brought him to Tasmania, the land of the last Tasmanian Tigers. As the two readers of my blog will know, I have become obsessed with these creatures since one mysteriously appeared to me in my coffee cup.
So here, for your viewing pleasure, are photos of Tasmanian Tigers snapped in Tasmania by Jack Newman, who is forgiven because these pictures are awesome.
I feel energized and old at the same time. Energized by the talent, drive, and enthusiasm of so many young artists. And old when I realize I’m a decade older than them. But I just want to be their friend because they’re so cool.
This week marks the start of the 11th annual Paprika Festival, ‘Toronto’s only theatre festival celebrating the work of young and emerging artists, primarily those who are 21 and under.’
Over the past few months, I’ve had the privilege of working with the Playwrights in Residence. I’m not sure if “working” is the right term (although scheduling busy young pro-stars is pretty work-y).
My job mostly consisted of getting the group together over tea, stew, or ice cream and having them discuss, explain, and help each other through their writing challenges and successes on their path towards a new script. They are all much more eloquent and insightful than I have ever been.
3/4 of the Playwrights-in-Residence unit: Britta Johnson, Rosamund Small, and Sabrina White. Missing from the picture (which I stole from Paprika's Facebook), but just because he had stepped out for dinner when it was taken, which is totally fair: Wesley Colford.
This week, their creations are being read at the Tarragon Theatre, along with all the other amazing works and productions by young Paprika artists.
If you’re in Toronto and want to see and hear outstanding new work, come check it out.
It’s in the Tarragon’s awesome Extra Space, it’s only $5, and, in a few years, you could very well end up saying “I knew them when…”
And you will be humbled by the amazing talent of this group of young emerging artists, there is no question.
The Paprika Festival runs March 1st-10th at the Tarragon Theatre in Toronto. For the schedule of shows and events, check out www.paprikafestival.com
