Feeds:
Posts
Comments

Posts Tagged ‘artists’

I never asked for a pony for Christmas.
And you call yourself a cliché?
Why didn’t I? Is it because I had a greater sense of reality than many of my peers? My three person family lived in a one bedroom apartment. No backyard and certainly no room (let alone money) for a pony. Or is it because I never went through the cliché childhood “horse phase”?

Which isn’t to say I never rode a horse. I have the all-American memory of riding a sad little pony around in circles at a county fair. I can remember the last time I rode a horse, at my friend Helena’s slightly extravagant tenth birthday party. I got the biggest one, he had a bit of an attitude, and I felt bad-ass controlling him. It was fun, I had a good time. But I was never the kid who watched Black Beauty everyday after school. Who was transfixed by police officers on horseback. Who begged and begged and saved up all my allowance for riding lessons. I did have My Little Ponies though, you bet I did.

This morning I saw Nick Cave’s instillation art piece “Heard NY” in Grand Central Terminal. A blend of performance art, costume, and sculpture, it was fantastic to watch. It was so inspiring and positively joyful to watch, it may just be the start of my long-delayed horse obsession. Cave creates a heard of horses. These are costume-sculpture pieces colorful, fashioned out of “raffia” which moves in a straw-like way, picking up subtle movements. Students from the Ailey School brought the pieces to life. The colors and the movement were mesmerizing. It was the perfect activity for 11AM on a snowy, gray spring morning.

NickCave1

The Horse stand on display like this all day, but at 11AM and 2PM Ailey dancers bring them to life. The dancers are in black lining the walls!

NickCave2

A closer view of some of five of the full heard of 30. Fifteen on the west side of Vanderbilt Hall at fifteen on the east. I was on the east side, I have no idea if the other side is a mirror or entirely individual!

NickCave3

Each sculpture/costure has a beautiful and ornately decorated head. Accompanying the dance was a harpist and drummer.
NickCave4It was cool just watching the dancers transform into horses. Also, lots of kids in the huge crowd watching.
NickCave5Once transformed we were treated to a 20 minute performance. There was a perfect balance of horse movement, I really felt like I was watching creatures frolic about, and more abstract dance.
NickCave6Butts and heads separated, movement got lively and even more colorful!
NickCave7You can see the performer inside the horse! I sometimes forgot they were in there. The little four year old girl next to me was adorably confused by it all.

Everyone was taking photographs and there was uproarious applause at the end. The dancers all looked exhausted and elated. I got to see the first public performance! If you are in NYC I highly recommend going out of your way to see this. The times of performance are inconvenient- 11am and 2pm daily- but I think it’s worth it. It’s only today though March 31st! My photos don’t do it justice, this is the first time I’ve ever seriously bemoaned my lack of a quality camera. It really is an experience!

If you can’t make it (and even if you can) check out this NY Times article and accompanying images and video: Watch Out for the Horses on Your Way to the Train

Certainly made my Monday!

Read Full Post »

Every day when I walk to the subway I walk past Lincoln Center’s Vivian Beaumont Theatre (I also walk past Juilliard, Alice Tully Hall, Laguardia High School of Performing Arts…not to make you jealous or anything…) South Pacific was just playing there and oh am I sorry if you missed that show. It was beautifully done and really would make anyone miss the classic Broadway musicals, Rodgers and Hammerstein. I was lucky enough to see it with my old high school friend. He and I had been in the show our senior year of high school (South Pacific is a terrible show to do in high school FYI, but especially when your high school is 60% Asian because non-traditional casting just doesn’t work in the show as race is the huge theme of the show.)

I’m sad the show is over, not just because it is a show I would have liked to see again (though it did have an airing on PBS of a live performance- you should check that out). I’m sad because on my walk home I will no longer see this sight: A man with a crew cut, a button up short sleeve shirt, and snug, high waisted (by today’s standards) pants looking like he’s straight out of WWII era, leaning against the wall smoking a cigarette (totally completing the 1944 image the cigarette does).

This was some guy in the chorus- I bet you the same guy every time- that I saw many a night on my street. He always made me smile, not just his picture perfect 40′s-ness but the fact that he defied everything the director of my highschool’s South Pacific said. Do you think Broadway actors do things to destroy their instrument like smoking? You can bet they don’t! Defies the costume designer too: Broadway actors don’t eat in their costumes, they don’t go outside in their costumes, they treat their costumes with great care, and so will you! Through college they did this to us too Do you think Broadway actors don’t know their lines 2 weeks before the show?? Broadway has always been the standard, we’ve always assumed it’s where everything is perfect and perfectly professional, and perfectly flawless and nothing less. But now I know the truth! I’ve seen it with my own eyes! Broadway is where you take smoke breaks between your scenes on the street outside the theater (where nosy little aspiring actresses will see you and get all excited)!

There was a dumpster outside the theater with general debris, “South Pacific Backstage” signs, and prop plants from the show. I thought about taking one as a souvenir but then decided I was above it. Had the same debate about asking my smoker to sign my program. I may be a nosy little aspiring actress, but I still have my pride.

Read Full Post »

When you live in New York City, you might forget a world exists outside the five burrows. I can go for months without leaving the city and not even think about it. While I did miss it over the summer, it was really nice to get away. See what life is like outside this crazy bubble.

I never thought I would have to transition back to living in NYC, but I did. For the first couple days all city sounds were magnified, I didn’t jay-walk, and I kept accidentally smiling at people on the street.

A week in, I was back in the throws of New York, almost like I’d never left it.

And then I found myself walking through Central Park when I heard strains of very familiar music. I was having trouble placing it, and then I saw the musician:

photo credit: Dan D

Perhaps you can’t tell from the photo, but this is a street musician, in Central Park, dressed up in Renaissance balladeer attire. And he was singing Renaissance songs. I just can’t leave Bumblefuck behind! It keeps following me! And I must say, I wouldn’t have it any other way.

Read Full Post »

I am not exactly the young engenue,  leading lady type. I am more the quirky⁄weird⁄flat-out crazy type. Those are the roles I find most fun, no question. But, probably because I am not fat (which I am convinced is the only reason I was not cast as the nurse in my college production of Romeo and Juliet-three years later, still not over it), I occasionally do get cast as the Romantic Lead.

My very first semester of college I was cast as Catherine, the love interest, in Pippin. I was super excited, my first semester of college, my first lead in a musical. In my high school freshmen never got big parts, so to me this was a Big Deal. The (cute) guy that was supposed to play Pippin dropped out (hello college theatre) and it took the director (“director” I should say, he was the poorest excuse for a director I’ve ever worked with) a while to find a replacement. I waited in anticipation. Would this new guy be my love interest on and off stage? That’s the sort of thing that happens in college, right? As this was musical theatre, I figured if not a boyfriend, at the least I would get a gay boyfriend. I was in need of both after all. I vividly remember Pippin walking in the door. Slightly overweight, bad skin, and poorly dressed. Not My Type. Not Gay. Fuck. Ten minutes after introducing myself to him I added “boring” to the list. The next day after rehearsal, I added “mediocre singer, abysmal actor, AND he smells funny” to the list. (Knowing my luck, he probably reads my blog…)

Hey, I was a bitchy, judgemental, disappointed, sullenly single, freshman (I’ve grown up since, I swear). Could I make it more clear he was not a love interest off stage? And yet, every one thought otherwise. Rumors flew around the cast I had a huge crush on him, friends came to see the show and raised eyebrows. You act like you’re in love with someone on stage, people watching that don’t understand it’s acting. Freshman year I was upset, offended- “You think I like him!? GROSS.” By the end of the run of Pippin, I learned to take it in stride. Now it’s as a huge complement if I’m accused of being interested in my onstage love interest, if his girlfriend gives me a mega Stink Eye after seeing the show. Clearly I’m producing a convincing, believable performance. What more could I want?

So did I have a crush on the guy who played Sir Francis Drake this summer? No I did not. But thanks for asking.

I still haven’t gotten to melons…more on melons to come.

Read Full Post »

There is Good News and there is Bad News, to the extreme on both ends.

Fortunately the Good News happened first. Other wise I might not have made it through the week.

Us new New Yorkers get asked “So why did you move to New York?” all the time. It is often a precursor to the discussed What’s the difference between the East Coast and West Coast? My answer is generally “Theatre.” Yes, I am an aspiring actor, in case you forgot, and it wouldn’t surprise me if you had. I’ve been doing much more aspiring than acting these days. And honestly not too much aspiring even. With ENT bills still haunting me and Mahattan rent, making money has been my #1 priority for many months. I’ve assistant directed a play and been on a handful of auditions but I have to admit it’s been on a hobby level. Which I’m okay with- putting off pursuing my dreams for a bit is fine, plus I’m pursuing my dream of living in NYC which is impossible without money. It’s all relative.

We artists are obsessed with “selling out”, “failure”, “giving up”.  Right, these fears only plague artists.

Any how.

On Monday, 7 minutes before the end of my desk-job work day, I received a call from the only audition I’d been on in April (maybe I’d been on 2, but I don’t think so) offering me a part. A paid part. An offer to pay me money to do what I love.

You want details? It’s an offer to be a part of “the oldest full-time professional acting troupe of any Renaissance Festival, and the inspiration behind many interactive entertainment groups in major theme parks across the country” to quote the website. The part is that of a female pirate, “piratess” (yes, there were pirates during the Renaissance just ask wikipedia, and yes, female pirates did exist, though rarely: it’s legit) in a band of 3 pirates out of 30 actors in the over all ensemble. The contract is from June 1-August 16 with the festival only on weekends, meaning the rest of the week is devoted to rehearsal annnnd basically summer vacation because it’s all in upstate NY, 6 hours away from NYC and they provide company housing (and board on the weekends). Spending a summer pretending I’m a pirate, swimming in Lake Ontario, star gazing, hiking, and other “middle of no where” (as we refer to it in NYC) activities; free rent, and a weekly pay check? Or sitting at a desk from 9-5 on beautiful sunny days, dreaming of evenings spent doing all the million awesome things there are to do in this city in the summer and weekends at the beach? Not too much of a contest. I will sorely miss Shakespeare in the Park, roof top bars, outdoor movies, my friends, etc. etc. But trading in the Administrative Assistant title for that or Professional Actor? That’s my dream right there. And June 1st, it looks like it will be coming true- I signed the contract (!!! contracts scare me) but have yet to receive my counter signed copy, so it’s not 100% official.

My reaction to success surprises me. I would imagine myself ecstatic at such an offer, shouting from the rooftops  with glee. It’s much more mixed than that. There’s fear in such success, disbelief, worry that it’s too good to be true.  In this particular example- worry about subletting my apartment for the summer, being unemployed on August 16, telling my office I’m leaving. I guess that makes me a grown up.

Now the bad news.

I decided not to tell work immediately that I was leaving. Wait for 3-4 weeks notice. My superior recently gave me a wink while talking about previous people in my position, how long they stayed on for, and how nice it would be to have someone stick around for a couple years. I could have told her right then and there I wasn’t planning on doing that, but instead pretended it might be an option, and now that I wasn’t even getting past my 6 month mark I felt a little bad. Not that I had signed a contract here or anything.

On Friday however, I learned that quitting my job was nothing I would have to worry about. Because on Friday I was, abruptly, never-saw-it-coming, no-kind-of-warning FIRED. I’ve never been fired before ever. It was shocking to say the least. Everyone who is in the office on a normal basis was about as shocked as I- or so I’ve been told. My firing was in the hands of the Big Boss Man (with the Prostate Problem) who is, as I’ve mentioned, almost never in the office. He had never reprimanded me previously, never mentioned I was doing an unsatisfactory job and needed to improve or face consequences. Maybe it’s because he found my blog, but I highly doubt it.

I’ve been told I was let go because my sales reports had too many detail errors. I can’t deny this, but will say the majority of these errors were because he demanded the reports prematurely, expected me to understand things with no explanation, or because the creator of the report told me it was “ready to go” when it wasn’t. I trust people and don’t read minds. It’s all an extremely aggravating reason to loose a job.

To add to it? They told me I could stay on until the end of the month (April) and needing the money, I accepted. So, as I type I am still behind my desk. Fuming as it is Administrative Professionals Day and no one gives a shit about me. It is awkward as hell working here knowing I’ve been fired. Talk about no motivation. I mean, what are they going to do? Fire me? And no one is talking about it. It’s this huge elephant in the room. I’ve named him Marvin. Marvin the Elephant is the only one in this office who understands me.

Whatever. I was going to quit any way.

So here I am, 8 more days stuck at a desk, 1 month of unemployment, a summer of professional acting, and then…who knows. I have a 4 month plan- that’s more than I can usually say.

Read Full Post »

This is the story of the time I picked up a guy on a New York City street. It doesn’t just happen on TV.

On December 31st 2009 I lost my Unlimited Monthly Metro Card. I’m sure I was not alone in my plight, I’d even hazard a guess that more people lose their Metro Cards on New Year’s Eve than any other night of the year. For most people, you suck it up and buy a new one, start the year fresh. For me this carelessness changed my life.

The card was due to expire on January 5th, so the loss was rather small considering the monthly scale. But considering 6 days and $2.25 a pop fare, I decided to see how far I could get avoiding the subway. Pretty far, I’ve discovered. I haven’t bought an Unlimited Metro Card since.

And so I’ve been walking to and from work everyday. Well, every day it doesn’t snow. I love starting the day this way- fresh air, sunshine (if I’m lucky), and people watching. It’s wonderful to be in control of my commute, picking up the pace when I’m late rather than pacing in frustration when a subway is delayed. I enjoy seeing familiar faces on the streets, people who do the same walk as me every day. Shop keepers rolling up security doors, setting out produce in the morning. High schoolers traveling in packs, often comical in their naiveté and the fact that I know I was much the same and just as annoying during that phase. Dog walkers and the hideous, absurd winter get-ups they inflict upon their animals. The dad walking his two little girls  (ages 6 and 9 maybe) to school everyday, his back laden with Hannah Montana backpacks, his hands grasping little pink mitten-ed hands  makes me think of my daddy and our elementary school walks.

The walk home occurs less frequently and is generally less “savored”. Getting home is a goal that drives me more than getting to work and thus I’m less prone to distraction. Plus it’s often dark- harder to see things. It takes something bigger than dog sweaters and a colorful fruit display to get my attention.

The other day I was walking home from a rehearsal. It was about 9PM and I was lost in my own thoughts when I blinked and noticed the man walking two paces in front of me. Can you measure a person’s attractiveness from their back? I can’t. Sometimes I think I can and wind disappointed. That’s not what brought my eyes to staring at this guy. It was the banjo he had strapped on his back.

Now I live right by Lincoln Center and work in the Theatre District; Julliard students lugging around upright bases and pit orchestra players with trombone cases strapped to their backs are a common sight. But a banjo? Who plays the banjo and then walks up 9th Ave with the naked instrument slung over his shoulder like a messenger bag? I was driven to find out, more so than I was driven to get home.

My (annoying but I’m making progress to change it) proclivity of waiting for people for people to come to me gets trumped when I have something  very specific to come to with said person. With Banjo Guy I have just that. I need answers to all questions this banjo brings to mind.

I sidled up next to him,“So I have to ask, do you carry the banjo around just to look cool or do you actually play it?” (I’ll leave it to you to decide whether that’s a better line than my Trader Joe’s check out line line.)
He looks at the person assaulting him on the street (me), our eyes meet (me to myself: now lookie there he is cute! that’s lucky. Possibly a hipster, definitely from Brooklyn, the banjo indicates clear musical tendencies…), and he smiles at me (dimples!! ahhh!).
“You think it makes me look cool?”
I am so in. That’s not a Uh, why are you talking to me? Not a Fuck off, rando. Not even a Oh you think you’re clever? Nice try. It’s a genuine Ok, I accept your random offer of conversation, it’s welcome rather than weird. Sweet.

hipsterrelativity1

I would later learn he had a fixie bike in addition to the banjo. Along with many ironic t-shirts and leather jackets. And hipster glasses that he occasionally wore. On top of it all, he denied being a hipster, thus making him the perfect cliche. [image credit: dustinland.com]

Our conversation begins in the west 40s- I’m walking to the 60s (home), he’s looking for a bar to get a drink. Where in Hell’s Kitchen, he could have found a bar at pretty much any point during our 20 block walk. But he doesn’t, he walks with me all the way up the street. My burning questions answered: He dabbles in being a street musician (omg! me too! Christmas caroling for ever!) when he’s not tailoring men’s suits (omg you’re not an actor? I extra ♥ you!). Yep, he lives in Brooklyn (told ya!!!) Seems nice, a little bit off sense of humor, but I might like it.

I’m the one who ends the walk – needing to make the necessary veer left to get home.  Before I make said veer, Banjo Guy asks for my phone number. Striking up a conversation on the street? Total success. Not only that, he actually used the number to call me and make a date. Which actually happened last night. No blog worthy story from it (I’m spoiled. My first two first dates in NY were good stories. I now think all first dates should all be that way and this is far from reality) but it was a good date.

Yes, I had fun. Maybe I like him. No, didn’t bring his banjo along.

Read Full Post »

The show I usher for was originally set to close mid-August but it has already been extended twice. Which works out well for me and the hazard of unemployment. It also means that the lead (now that I no longer work there I can tell you I’m talking about Jonathan Groff**) had to leave the show to go film an Ang Lee movie and his replacement isn’t quite as charming.

He had the day off from filming yesterday. How do I know this, you ask? Because he came to see the show and of course he sat in my section, because awesome/famous people always sit in my section (I really lucked out with that assignment at the beginning of the summer). I didn’t notice him until intermission when I saw him sitting all by himself and realized he had been the annoying guy sitting next to the show’s costume designer whispering and laughing uproariously at everything the whole first act. Wow, good thing I hadn’t shot him a nasty “shut up!” look!

Well there he was, in all his adorable splendor, sitting alone as the costume designer had left to attend to things. Eee I want to go up there and tell him I think he’s awesome, but that’s not really appropriate. I’m supposed to stay here and man my spot. Damn. Ok, I will will him to leave the theater so he’ll pass by me and hopefully I’ll have the balls to say something. Willllllllllll. It works. He gets up and I’m searching my brain for something I can say that isn’t obnoxious or groupie-esque but he’s not heading for the exit. No, no. He is heading straight towards me.

“Hi! How are you? It’s so good to see you,” he says and then gives me a hug. Like we bonded during the show. Like we’re old friends. Like he’s at least talked to me once before in our lives. Planning my line? Fuck that! Not even my imagination considered this.

From where I stood there were two choices: play along or let the truth- that I’ve never talked to him before ever and think he’s very talented, not to mention the fact he’s already achieved most of my life goals- take over. No contest. For the entirety of intermission me and this Tony-nominated, the next hot thing, golden boy of Broadway are bffs. We talk about the show, how it’s been since he left, how filming’s been, laugh when some guy comes over to talk to him and ends his “I saw you in this show, you were so great” spiel with: My friend sitting up over there. It’s her birthday. She wants your dong. The guy quickly leaves and my new bff laughs and confides in me, “That’s one I’ve never heard before- ‘She wants your dong.’ And did you see how fast he went back to his seat? I bet that was a dare.” Oh commiseration, that makes me feel even more like we’re bffs.

Before I know it, intermission is over. The light’s are dimming and so is our friendship.

It was so great to see you! Good luck with the film! Enjoy the second act!

Thanks, you too. I’ll see you later. He says and gives me another hug before returning to his seat.

I can’t stop smiling.

It’s a good thing I’m 97% sure he’s gay (You can pretty much tell on stage.  It’s a vibe, a chemistry. When you have gay leading men in classic musicals this can limit the credibility of character portrayal. Like when I saw Wicked the Fiaro was so obviously gay it was distracting. But in this show it made his character much stronger. Which I didn’t appreciate fully until he left. Sigh. If he is not gay, he is a truly brilliant actor for creating that. His replacement doesn’t have the same vibe and it makes the whole show a little weaker, in my opinion.) (He actually came out a year after I wrote this.**) Other wise I would be head over heals in love. Such a sweet, modest, respectful, awesome person. It’s moments like these when I feel like the minimum wage I get paid is totally enough. Who am I kidding, I would do it for free.

**edits from 2/13/2011

Read Full Post »

Older Posts »

Follow

Get every new post delivered to your Inbox.

Join 705 other followers