Us second years are almost halfway through our acting boot camp. One scene down, in the middle of the second and I think we all found our third scenes. Shakespeare is...Shakespeare; taking everyone a lot longer to memorize and really make our own. We are still chipping away at our clowns and remembering to breathe and live in our bodies. You know, the usual.
Emotionally, it's quite dynamic. So much going on with everyone, I feel like we are all changing colors much like the trees outside. Hopefully we're not losing our metaphorical leaves, though. I would like to think that I am an evergreen. We are definitely growing closer together as a group. That is wonderful. There are still times when I think of last year and I miss everyone we shared classes with. It was a wonderful time. I also miss the recent graduates. I didn't spend as much time with them as I wish I had, but I got to know them, and still keep in touch with some of them, trying to see all of the shows they are in around town. Very promising. I would also like to know the current trackies, make a connection with the first years as I did with "my" second years. So I guess the question is: Who's throwing the big mixer party?
Sunday, October 26, 2008
Saturday, October 18, 2008
Be a Clown
Philip told us to journal about our costume and I, being at heart a slacker, haven't done it (mostly because I hate writing stuff out by hand and would rather type it). So, if he asks, I'll just cut and paste this blog and turn it in ;P (I wuv ewe Philip!)
My costume:
At first, I was like "I'm to busy to go out and spend hrs searching for a hat and coat!" so I went to Vinnie (who has pretty much any and all strange and depraved items you could ever want) and said, "Help me Obi-Wan KeVinnie, you're my only hope!" and he outfited me with a plastic viking hat (with horns I could turn in wierd directions) a boustiae (can't spell that), and garterbelt. I borrowed my room-mate's cloak and thought, "hey, I got it made now!" and trotted off to class.
Oh how wrong I was.
1st off, the hat wouldn't stay on, so I had to tie it there with the garter belt (no, I wasn't wearing the boustiae, never did in the end) which I'll be the first to admit was pretty funny, but wasn't quite right. And while I as a person and actor like to hide and the cloak made it easy as breathing, it just felt wrong.
For two weeks I tried it, and then Philip said, basically, if you didn't like what you had, chuck it. Find something that excites you. A few days later I was talking with Elizabeth (2008 grad of PAC) about how I was throwing it all out and starting over and she told me where and how she found her hat and costume and how, once she had the hat, the rest just came together and it was perfect. Also, she shared how whenever she was in her clown, she was just amazingly happy no matter what had happened during the day.
The very next day I was out shopping. My first stop was the store Elizabeth recommended (Hollywood Vintage on 28th and Hawthorne) to me. I wandered around the store for a while, choking on some of the prices, trying on various hats. I started to notice that the hats I was going for were all guy hats; I never picked up a lady's hat. A top hat. A beariea (can't spell). Cowboy. and finally a gray tweed flat cap.
I loved it. I looked at myself in the mirror, no makeup, purple rimmed glasses with paint chipped off, and saw myself but with a new layer I'd never found before. However, this newfound joy was not w/o its problems. See, the hat I was adoring was just a little too small and hurt my head as I wore it. And they didn't have any that were that color, in that style and one size up. Also, the one size up seemed a little big for my head and was always sliping around espeically with my pony tail. DISASTER!!!
I regretfully put the hat of my dreams back on the shelf and left. There were a few other vintage/thrift stores nearby and I decided to hit them up before giving up completly. I also called Phoebe to see if wool would stretch. We debated about it for awhile, and I revealed to her the epiphany I had had when I chose that hat (or it chose me, whichever): my inner clown (at least this time) is a boy. Honestly? I was a little mind-boggled by that realization. I did a clown workshop about 6 months ago and the clown I felt coming out that day was completly different (I think I was trying to recreate her with the viking hat, etc); she was bumblingly sexual and looked down her nose at all you silly little people. But a little boy? Where did that come from?
Anyway, I didn't find anything at the other stores and ended up going back to Vintage and just buying the medium brown flat cap even though it wasn't exactly what I wanted, it was still the style (6 pieces with a button on the top) and non-painful size. Next, I went BACK to the other thrift stores I had just been in and started hunting for the rest of my costume. In the equivialnt to a matchbox Salvation Army store (but some other religous donation run thrift store) I started looking around. I had a vague idea of the look I was going for now, but was trying not to limit myself to anything. I couldn't find anything that really caught my eye until I reached the slacks. There I found one of the ugliest pair of brown and tan tweed wool pants I think I have ever seen. I was immediatly in love. They were 3 sizes too big and they came half-way up my chest when I pulled them all the way up. I knew I had to have them (along w/ some suspenders, but they came later), and I got them.
I stopped at a few other places, but nothing really caught my eye, and I ended up at the gigantic Goodwill over near Belmont. I left the pants in the car, but decided to put my hat on just for the heck of it, to see what would happen and what my impulses were.
It was FACINATING! I put that cap on, stepped out of my car, and immediately felt my center sink down into my pelvis, I slouched, and my bottom lip snuck up part-way over my upper. I walked without hesitation past the ladies clothes section and into the guy's w/o pause. I meandered through the aisles and happened to glance at the sports jackets and saw this gawdawful blue, green, tan wool thread jacket. It is probably one of the most heinous things ever made.
Again, I was immediatly in love.
The shirt was a little more difficult, and I grabbed several that I thought would work. My favorite of them turned out to be my first reject as I tried them on over my clothes in the fitting room. Wearing the hat helped me know instantly if a shirt was right or not and it was on the third and last one, the least likely to me, that I knew. I had it on, and I went, "oh. OH!" and quickly put on the jacket to see it all together.
Remember I said how my friend put her clown costume on and she was happy no matter what? Well, I was exhausted, stressed out, and starting to get sick so I essientially felt like crap. But when I looked at myself in the mirror I started to giggle and dance around. It was amazing! I was truly sad when I had to take the shirt and jacket off so I could buy them because I wanted to stay in that happy place forever.
A few days later Mark offered some suspenders and I immediatly said yes please! and voila, a clown is born.
I found some shoes the same day I got my jacket and shirt, but they dont' seem to be workin' for me (they're probly gonna get tossed). This last week I rolled up my pant legs and danced bare-foot and ya know what? Even though Mark almost amputated one of my toes whilst dancing, I felt more me (me the clown) then I had with the shoes on. Also, I brought back my glasses because to me, for some reason, my clown i s incomplete w/o them.
The other portion of my "clown-ness" is the music I have found that suits him. It boggles my mind but when I listen to it, I feel that same little "yay!" I feel when I put on my hat and/or jacket.
Who knew there was so much joy to be had in playing the clown.
Gigglingly yours,
Jack
My costume:
At first, I was like "I'm to busy to go out and spend hrs searching for a hat and coat!" so I went to Vinnie (who has pretty much any and all strange and depraved items you could ever want) and said, "Help me Obi-Wan KeVinnie, you're my only hope!" and he outfited me with a plastic viking hat (with horns I could turn in wierd directions) a boustiae (can't spell that), and garterbelt. I borrowed my room-mate's cloak and thought, "hey, I got it made now!" and trotted off to class.
Oh how wrong I was.
1st off, the hat wouldn't stay on, so I had to tie it there with the garter belt (no, I wasn't wearing the boustiae, never did in the end) which I'll be the first to admit was pretty funny, but wasn't quite right. And while I as a person and actor like to hide and the cloak made it easy as breathing, it just felt wrong.
For two weeks I tried it, and then Philip said, basically, if you didn't like what you had, chuck it. Find something that excites you. A few days later I was talking with Elizabeth (2008 grad of PAC) about how I was throwing it all out and starting over and she told me where and how she found her hat and costume and how, once she had the hat, the rest just came together and it was perfect. Also, she shared how whenever she was in her clown, she was just amazingly happy no matter what had happened during the day.
The very next day I was out shopping. My first stop was the store Elizabeth recommended (Hollywood Vintage on 28th and Hawthorne) to me. I wandered around the store for a while, choking on some of the prices, trying on various hats. I started to notice that the hats I was going for were all guy hats; I never picked up a lady's hat. A top hat. A beariea (can't spell). Cowboy. and finally a gray tweed flat cap.
I loved it. I looked at myself in the mirror, no makeup, purple rimmed glasses with paint chipped off, and saw myself but with a new layer I'd never found before. However, this newfound joy was not w/o its problems. See, the hat I was adoring was just a little too small and hurt my head as I wore it. And they didn't have any that were that color, in that style and one size up. Also, the one size up seemed a little big for my head and was always sliping around espeically with my pony tail. DISASTER!!!
I regretfully put the hat of my dreams back on the shelf and left. There were a few other vintage/thrift stores nearby and I decided to hit them up before giving up completly. I also called Phoebe to see if wool would stretch. We debated about it for awhile, and I revealed to her the epiphany I had had when I chose that hat (or it chose me, whichever): my inner clown (at least this time) is a boy. Honestly? I was a little mind-boggled by that realization. I did a clown workshop about 6 months ago and the clown I felt coming out that day was completly different (I think I was trying to recreate her with the viking hat, etc); she was bumblingly sexual and looked down her nose at all you silly little people. But a little boy? Where did that come from?
Anyway, I didn't find anything at the other stores and ended up going back to Vintage and just buying the medium brown flat cap even though it wasn't exactly what I wanted, it was still the style (6 pieces with a button on the top) and non-painful size. Next, I went BACK to the other thrift stores I had just been in and started hunting for the rest of my costume. In the equivialnt to a matchbox Salvation Army store (but some other religous donation run thrift store) I started looking around. I had a vague idea of the look I was going for now, but was trying not to limit myself to anything. I couldn't find anything that really caught my eye until I reached the slacks. There I found one of the ugliest pair of brown and tan tweed wool pants I think I have ever seen. I was immediatly in love. They were 3 sizes too big and they came half-way up my chest when I pulled them all the way up. I knew I had to have them (along w/ some suspenders, but they came later), and I got them.
I stopped at a few other places, but nothing really caught my eye, and I ended up at the gigantic Goodwill over near Belmont. I left the pants in the car, but decided to put my hat on just for the heck of it, to see what would happen and what my impulses were.
It was FACINATING! I put that cap on, stepped out of my car, and immediately felt my center sink down into my pelvis, I slouched, and my bottom lip snuck up part-way over my upper. I walked without hesitation past the ladies clothes section and into the guy's w/o pause. I meandered through the aisles and happened to glance at the sports jackets and saw this gawdawful blue, green, tan wool thread jacket. It is probably one of the most heinous things ever made.
Again, I was immediatly in love.
The shirt was a little more difficult, and I grabbed several that I thought would work. My favorite of them turned out to be my first reject as I tried them on over my clothes in the fitting room. Wearing the hat helped me know instantly if a shirt was right or not and it was on the third and last one, the least likely to me, that I knew. I had it on, and I went, "oh. OH!" and quickly put on the jacket to see it all together.
Remember I said how my friend put her clown costume on and she was happy no matter what? Well, I was exhausted, stressed out, and starting to get sick so I essientially felt like crap. But when I looked at myself in the mirror I started to giggle and dance around. It was amazing! I was truly sad when I had to take the shirt and jacket off so I could buy them because I wanted to stay in that happy place forever.
A few days later Mark offered some suspenders and I immediatly said yes please! and voila, a clown is born.
I found some shoes the same day I got my jacket and shirt, but they dont' seem to be workin' for me (they're probly gonna get tossed). This last week I rolled up my pant legs and danced bare-foot and ya know what? Even though Mark almost amputated one of my toes whilst dancing, I felt more me (me the clown) then I had with the shoes on. Also, I brought back my glasses because to me, for some reason, my clown i s incomplete w/o them.
The other portion of my "clown-ness" is the music I have found that suits him. It boggles my mind but when I listen to it, I feel that same little "yay!" I feel when I put on my hat and/or jacket.
Who knew there was so much joy to be had in playing the clown.
Gigglingly yours,
Jack
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)