Wet

Yes, that's a parrot with the parasols. It's that kind of show.

It's been pouring down rain all day. I feel like I'm drowning, sticking to the theater seats, sliding down the aisles on a sheet of muggy water. Every inch of this performance space is covered in condensation and the eaves are dripping as you run under them to the dressing rooms. One of our quick changes requires seven of our chorus men to dress outside and run around to the front of the house - not so easy in the pouring rain. Tonight I think we are using giant umbrellas. Though, as wet as I've gotten simply sitting in the house, I'm not sure it will help.

There was, however, a gorgeous rainbow just now at dinner. All sorts of snafus happening left and right as we try to move this show to stage, but there's the rainbow and we all smile. It was out over Lake Otsego, stretching from one side of the horizon to the other . . . a reminder that good things are coming perhaps.

Two more weeks and I'm done. What a crazy, whirlwind experience. It gives me confidence in my ability to be thrown into situations.

Take Me Out To The Opera...

This town is all about baseball. The Hall of Fame is here, Doubleday Field is here...it's a wonder that little Glimmerglass Opera even survives. But it persists, and the town supports it. This first photo is a picture of Main Street in Cooperstown, sporting a Glimmerglass Opera banner. It's amazing to me how the two exist so well side-by-side. With all of the baseball card shops and people wielding bats up and down the avenues of the town, I can still step into the library and get a rousing, "Opera Girl!" from the two little women behind the check-out counter. If I had my own transportation, I would be having a pleasant time.

That's me in my big ol' barn. It's actually a lovely home, though it gets hot in the steamy weather we've been having. This is especially true when it starts to rain in all directions and I have to close the windows, leaving my house to slowly turn into an unbearable sauna. It's actually cooled down quite a bit today, and I'm hoping the manageable weather lasts a bit longer. I hate those nights - reminiscent of my first years in Chicago - when I'm lying on top of my sheets, not a stitch on, hoping that I'll pass out so I don't have to deal with the sweat and oppressive air for any longer in the dark, silent night.

The theater doesn't take to the muggy weather either. The floors are cement and the condensation that appears on them in humid weather leaves streams of water rolling down towards the pit. My shoes don't have enough viable traction to deal effectively with the moist floors, and the seats in the house last night were slightly damp, rendering me a sweaty, damp mess by the time I went home. It's shades of Jacob's Pillow, except I'm not dancing here and so don't particularly want to be drenched in sweat.

Despite, the "Pirates of Penzance" is going to be quite a romp. The design team has effectively pulled out all the stops, and our singers are ready to jump in with both feet. Comedic discovery, when going well, is amazing and joyous in the studio. Nothing invites collective brainstorming like attempting to create a "cartoon" moment on stage. Realizing all of this on stage the past couple of days has been quite stressful. Comedy is not easy. It takes massive repetition and a complete understanding of the timing and placement of each gag. This show is also prop heavy and fly heavy and so it makes our tech rehearsals a bit tedious as we try to figure out each segment of each moment to make the full effect run smoothly and incite the laughter we've been enjoying with each other in the studio. When these moments finally all came together last night, it was wonderful to be in the house and hear the hoots from the rest of the cast and crew, and to see the glimmers of joy on the performers' faces as they realized what they'd done.

Someone mentioned yesterday that theater is like throwing a party - putting it together is terrible work, but once the party starts, it's great fun. We are all looking ahead to that.

In my other life, so far away, I am trying desperately to stay connected but I'm not sure how well it's working. I'm having a lot of trouble putting together rehearsals for these pieces I'm trying to do in August. I am, frankly, unsure if it can happen at this point. I'm trying to figure out how I want my wedding to go and hoping to do a show in November, and it all seems like so much when I spend thirteen hours a day on "Pirates." I must, at the very least, be ready to teach when I walk in the door. I'm going to be completely jet-lagged, so I must have a class ready that could nearly teach itself. Life never, never stops. Thank god, but holy crap!

I'm leaving you with one of my tech table photos. This one is during dinner break last night at Glimmerglass, as I sat at the table rewriting singer notes and downing Goldfish.

The set is barely visible save the ship dissapearing into the back flat, but believe me when I say that Monty Python would be very proud. If you want to see what it actually looks like . . . well . . . you'll just have to come to Cooperstown.

Culture Shock

It might be some time before you get a proper post from me. I am quite cut off from the world in Cooperstown. I am actuallyl staying in Springfield, New York, in a barn, in the middle of nowhere. I have very little access to anything communicative, such as a cell phone or internet. It's been a shock to my big-city system.

The pic is a view from my bedroom. Yes, that's a pig atop that weather vane. The work is interesting and the people lovely and I am sure that I will find myself used to this place by the time I leave.

Right now, however, it's lonely and a bit gloomy and without any car, I can't explore. I feel a bit stuck. Thank god I'm here to work and not relax. People come out here to dissapear but I find it much easier to fall into the woodwork in a metropolis than in this big wide country.

My How Things Change!

And so the swiftness and changeability of my career has shown itself to be much like the wind again, as I woke up this morning to an urgent telephone call from Glimmerglass Opera.

Suffice to say, I will not be spending my month of June in San Diego as originally planned. I will, instead, be enjoying the sights and sounds of Cooperstown, New York, as I AD for Lillian Groag once again. I am ecstatic, nervous, and a bit flustered to say the least.

My red eye leaves in five hours. Hopefully I'll be filling all of you in quite soon.

Up up and Away!!

No Gay Marriage Amendment for Mr. Bush

So it didn't happen. We all knew the Amendment wouldn't pass, but I still can breathe a little easier knowing we are over one hurdle towards becoming the fascist state for which Bush and his cronies so desperately yearn.

We haven't even begun to see the end of this issue though. As long the Religious Right has any kind of hold over our law-makers, this issue and other social issues that "go against God" will continue to come under endless fire.

I am especially appalled at the President's remarks on the "Marriage Amendment" that make it sound like passing the amendment would actually give the American people more freedom. My favorite quote:

As this debate goes forward, every American deserves to be treated with tolerance and respect and dignity. (Applause.) On an issue of this great significance, opinions are strong and emotions run deep. And all of us have a duty to conduct this discussion with civility and decency toward one another. All people deserve to have their voices heard and a constitutional amendment will ensure that they are heard.

All of this sounds quite decent until you get to the end. What he really means to say is all voices deserve to be heard, but we should only truly listen to the ones that agree with him.

Not much of a rant today I guess...I should be feeling happy that the amendment didn't have nearly enough votes, but I think I'm just feeling more disgruntled than anything. I get in this mood any time I read something that Bush has said or written. He just needs to go away; and fast.

I'm ending this post with a quip from one Peter Griffin who, on an early episode of "The Family Guy," rode into his yard on an elephant and yelled down to his wife, "Look Lois, the two symbols of the Republican Party: An elephant, and a big, fat, white guy who's afraid of change."

Tappa, Tappa, Tappa

Tonight was my first rehearsal for the two pieces I am premiering at Celebrate Dance in August. I'm working with two great dancers to put together a trio, and we got together to work this evening in the smallest space in existence at the Academy of Performing Arts. It was great to jump into a piece, but frustrating to be in such a small space. All of us acknowledged the fact that we would have to find someplace a little more substantial as the piece became more and more solidified.

The biggest issue wasn't the tiny quarters, actually. We were plagued by tap dancers in a class next door. I haven't been around tap classes in years and forgot what a cacophony of sound they produce when they are all hoofing together. At one point we were working on a quiet bit in the piece and, not only was the entire class slapping their feet against the floor with abandon, but they were all tapping to the blaring sounds of a gospel choir belting out their hand-slapping best. The walls are thin in that studio. We started laughing so hard that we couldn't concentrate on the piece and had to start over.

Despite, I liked what we accomplished and think that we will be able to forge something worth doing by the time the festival rolls around in August.

So many things are starting all at once. This rehearsal tonight was just the first horse out of the gate - everything else is immediately following. Tomorrow is entirely about putting syllabi together for summer schools and continuing to work on my upcoming shows. I love being busy . . . but I can see myself needing a break in a couple of months.

Oh...and I am officially thirty years old. It was a realization I made tonight on the way to my car. The three of us were walking out and one of my dancers mentioned how she was almost thirty and I thought, "Wow, I'm the oldest one of the three...I AM thirty." It wasn't an earth-shattering thought, but it did give me a moment's pause. I got into my Hyundai and sat in the dark for a minute before driving off; took stock of what was happening in my life. I told myself that thirty was going to be a good year and I have to keep thinking that..

Life goes by so quickly, even when it seems like it's dragging ass.

Transcendence Of The Great Big Not-So-Bad

John awarded me with a trip to Los Angeles for my birthday weekend. Tickets to see the much anticipated "Grendel" at LA Opera, and a night in the Omni Hotel, which is a mere two blocks away from the theater. The weekend just got better and better. . .

First, "Grendel" was quite an interesting experience. Our tickets, while staying the same price, instantly became preview tickets when the monstrosity of a set piece malfunctioned immediately before the opening last week. I was willing to allow a few technical snafus during the run of the show on Saturday afternoon, but what we got was far from that. The singers were great (espcially Eric Owens as the misunderstood monster, and the inimitable Denyce Graves as a diva of a dragon lady with a Fabulous boa!), the costumes were beautiful, the musicians were exemplary. The choreography (by Angelin Preljocaj) was fine, but I've been having hang-ups about every opera I've seen lately turning into a modern dance concert at the oddest times. This production was better about it than most, but I still think dance can be integrated more smoothly. The music had amazing moments of grandeur and wonderful bits of repose, but was in bad need of an editor's swift knife. There were far too many ponderous moments for my personal taste. When the whole thing was on, however, the whole thing was ON.

The big issue, as far as I could tell, was the incredible disregard for sight lines. I would place bets that none of the production team had ever watched any of the show from the balcony. I was sitting in the very front of the balcony and watched every set change behind the huge moving piece in the middle. Every time a stairway moved or a group of dancers entered, ready to jump through the center of the mountain that made up the relatively uninteresting set, a curtain was pulled aside in the back, and the blinding daylight came streaming through, hitting all of us in the eyes. Every time there was about to be an entrance from the created doorway in the rotating hulk of plaster in the center of the stage, I watched an asm enter from the blinding daylight beyond the curtain, and walk leisurely to the center of the stage with her mini-light-lit score in one hand, her other hand poised above her head, ready for the appropriate musical cue. I watched props people shift from hip to hip, whispering to each other, waiting for the cue to remove chairs from behind the set and take them off stage. I watched deck crew run back and forth to make sure stair cases has been set properly. What the hell was going on??? I am sure, because of the sight lines of the set, that no one in the orchestra section of the theater could see this zoo happening behind the action, but I was in the front of the balcony and was watching a completely separate show. I hope to god that someone else noticed and is doing something about the appalling masking. If it had been my show, I would have been throwing a massive fit by the time the final curtain descended.

The show has a lot of work to do to become something amazing. I'm glad I saw it though. It's always exciting to see new work - regardless of its problems. The exuberance of the singers, especially Mr. Owens, and the beautiful dancers, made it all worth it. I'll be curious to see where it goes and how it does.

In a huge stroke of luck, John and I noticed on our way to the hotel that MOCA was having some late-night event. We walked down after checking in and found that the museum was open until midnight and that Robert Rauschenberg's Combines were being shown in exhibition. I hadn't been to an art museum in so long, so we sidled past the hipsters listening to a DJ in the atrium, and walked through his incredible retrospective. We were laughing at some of the "art-speak" paragraphs under the piece descriptions. Whenever I see Rauschenberg's work, I am enchanted and love looking at all of the found objects he's placed in juxtaposition; I rarely see the need to draw any deep meaning from his use of dead animals, socks, or newspaper clippings. I loved the various bits of deconstruction going on because it seemed rather absurd when compared to the randomness of his work.

As with most art exhibits, it was great to finally see some of his pieces up close when I'd only ever seen them as tiny thumbnails in a textbook. We also took a stroll through the permanent collection, and saw another exhibit by an African-American woman named Lorna Simpson. Her work consisted of a series of similar photographs surrounded by text. Many of her pieces seemed to be about identity - as a woman, as a black woman, as a black person. I was sometimes more interested in the photographs, sometimes more interested in the text, and a couple of times thought the marriage of the two were fascinating.

And so I had an art-full weekend in the City of Angels. John did good.

We came back to San Diego this morning and rested a bit before setting out for one more bit of culture. Pat Rincon Dance Collective was holding its 8th annual Blurring Borders Festival at City College. It was great to step back into the dance scene for the first time in seven months. There was an Irish company performing that did absolutely nothing for me, but the concert held some interest as the evening went on. I was especially enamored with a duet by Elizabeth Licea and Raffaella Judd - their movement is so similar that it was often like watching the same person on opposite sides of the stage. Raffaella tells me that a longer version will premiere this summer. I'll be curious to see how it transforms.

This weekend has kicked off my creativity. My body of work begins now...

Off To L.A.

So I'm leaving in about twenty minutes to go up to Los Angeles with John so we can see "Grendel," the new Julie Taymor extravaganza at L.A. Opera. I'm sure some of you have heard about the computer/mechanical problems the show's been having. They had to cancel their opening night because of a huge machine malfunction. So now, this show I'm going to is being labeled a preview even though we all paid full price for our tickets. Not sure I agree with the way the company's been handling that, but I want to see it so there you go.... The link to the Times article is below. I'll report on how it looks later.

It's been great to be home, spending time with John, taking my cat to the vet because he sprained his wrist (yes, that's right, jumped down wrong or something and is limping like mad....will the madness never stop???). I went up to UCSD to watch John edit yesterday, which is one of my favorite pastimes.. He is such a smart editor and I find it so interesting to watch him cut up sections of video and stick them together perfectly. He is a master at splicing together rehearsal footage and performance footage so the music continues without a glitch. It's so satisfying to see him work to find the perfect splicing place, then watch the finished product and hear how seamless it is.

We had lunch at a sushi restaurant in Hillcrest and I started going through all of my projects for the summer. I'm going to be one busy girl. I can't wait.

Misguided Patriots, U.S. Sweatshops and Why Jet Lag Sucks

The picture is of my neice and two of my brothers at my 30th birthday party (a little early). My parents threw a little family shin-dig for me to celebrate my milestone. It's nice to still be given the kid treatment once in a while.

I am home for a good long while however! I flew in yesterday and am feeling incredible jet leg for reasons unbeknownst to me. There's only a two hour time difference between St. Louis and here, but I woke up this morning completely exhausted and shaky. Maybe I didn't drink enough water, maybe I wasn't sleeping well in Missouri, maybe my nerves were shot as I have recently become a terrible white-knuckle flier. On my flight from Dallas, I was sitting next to two little kids flying alone. The turbulence was quite minor compared to other flights I've been on in the recent past, but I was forcibly trying to regulate my breathing and gripping the side of the seat. Both of the girls were playing video games and lolling off to sleep halfway through. What's happened to me? I used to be like that.

So, I'm exhausted and lazy today. I guess I deserve a day of respite but feel pretty upset with myself for taking it. Tomorrow I will get more done.

Two things I wanted to touch on that I've been thinking about since the race. One raised my dander at the track. Being Memorial Day, we always have representatives from each faction of the armed forces march around the track before the race, and various military planes do flyovers during the National Anthem, and sometimes after "Taps" is played. It's all part of the pomp and circumstance and I have no problem supporting these men and women for the sacrafices they've made to be the force of protection for our country. I am glad to give thanks to the men and women of earlier wars who gave their lives to help keep our country free and safe. What irked me this time, was that every time a flyover happened or military men and women marched in front of us last Sunday, huge factions of the crowd stood up, pumped their fists and started chanting "U.S.A.! U.S.A.! U.S.A.!..." Banging their feet on the ground and grunting out each letter as if they were calling for an encore at a heavy metal concert or rooting for their favorite sports team.

What is that all about? Why do so many people feel the need to chant out their country's name while standing in the heartland of their own country? What do they hope to achieve by this jingoistic display? Do they realize that our country is in a war it cannot win right now, that we aided and abetted a huge civil war in Iraq? Are they rooting for our country to win as if we were all in some giant video game in a country they can barely imagine on the map? Why do we need to thrust our patriotism into the faces of other citizens of our own country? For that matter, why do we need to thrust our fanatic patriotism into the faces of citizens from other countries? Doesn't that make us look arrogant and a little bit stupid, or perhaps we look like we're scared of our own shadow - we have to obnoxiously affirm our patriotism to believe it ourselves? Do these people realize that almost half of the drivers of this race are not from the United States? I watched the rest of the opening ceremonies for the race (however beautiful) with a bad taste in my mouth.

The other dander raising moment for me was on the plane home. I read an article in Ms.Magazine about Saipan and the Marianas Islands, a U.S. Territory in the Pacific that imposes most U.S. laws on those living there except for minimum wage. This chip in the law, supported by people like Tom DeLay, allows sweatshops and indentured servitude to persist on this U.S. soil, and it goes by unnoticed because garments made there can display a tag stating, "Made in the U.S.A." According to the Article, J. Jill, Elie Tahari, Ann Taylor, Liz Claiborne, The Gap, Ralph Lauren and others subcontract production to factories on the island so they can have a U.S. product made at sweatshop prices. Three bills are wending their way through the House and Senate to make the minimum wage laws apply in the Marianas, but they need our support. DeLay and his cronies have done an excellent job of making other such bills die on the floor. The link to the article is below.

The more I read and see pertaining to our current administration, the more sick to my stomach I get.

Tomorrow I start work on my many projects happening in the summer and fall. Hopefully they will help my mood elevate and my jetlag fall away.