30 September, 2012

I've Been...

JULY
visiting the oboe doctor with Lilly

driving to Philadelphia

seeing Max kill it as Che in Evita

turning 29

socializing my FACE off

going La Ronde "again"

going to the circus...


hearing lots of live music
       and performance art (like Orchestra 360 from the NY Phil)

spending quality time with true friends
and skyping with far away ones

opening up


AUGUST
falling in love with my f'usband Will Reynolds
and Philadelphia

Making friends and doing stuff

Seeing Newsies ...in the second row. Like a fangirl. 

falling in looooooove (with an actual clown...)
SEPTEMBER
North American Premier of Love Story

Really gettin' into the City of Brotherly Love
Cheese-steak showdown

    
Reading  like a crazy library lady
  •      The Marriage Plot
  •      The Tipping Point
  •      Assassination Vacation
  •      Cloud Atlas

28 September, 2012

Things that are Free: A List

borrowed 
     books 
     and movies 
     and clothing... yay!

Hand holding

long meaningful talks

wildflowers

smiling

speech

samples: WORD.

walks by the water 

the library

Kisses
 
star-gazing

kick-ass museums, parks and beautiful buildings

taking joy in simple things. Joy is free.

the scenic route. 

the mint with the check
     and the mint on the pillow


23 September, 2012

Love Story - Production Highlights

Performance highlights from the production at Walnut Street Theatre. Please join us!

"Walnut Street Theatre opens its landmark 204th season with the American premiere of Erich Segal’s LOVE STORY, the musical. With direction and musical staging by Annabel Bolton, this emotionally charged production is a delicate story of life and love and is currening runningns through October 21st on the WST Mainstage. BroadwayWorld has a first look at the production below. Inspired by Erich Segal's best-selling iconic novel of the same name, and one of the most romantic films of all time, this life-affirming musical will have audiences remembering the first time they fell in love. When Oliver Barrett IV wanders into a library in search of a book, he discovers Jenny Cavilleri. They came from different worlds. He was a Harvard man, she was Radcliffe. He was rich, she was poor. But they fell in love. This is their story. Love Story, the musical originally premiered at Chichester's Minerva Theatre in June, 2010. In December of 2012, following a sell-out season at the Chichester Festival, the production transferred to the Duchess Theatre in London’s West End. The show features music by Howard Goodall, book by Stephen Clark and lyrics by Clark and Goodall."

Read more: here!

18 September, 2012

Behind the Scenes: Interview with Howard Goodall

British composer (of musicals, choral music and televisual music) Howard Goodall (who also presents music-based programming for television and radio, and in May 2009 he was named "Composer of the Year" at the Classical BRIT Awards) takes us through the exciting process of creating the music for LOVE STORY, the musical, and shares his inspirations, as well as a favorite moment from the show (*which makes me very very happy*).

Also some sneaky little video clips!

Enjoy.


12 September, 2012

Love Story - Opening Night

"Say that love's a bridge to cross an ocean..."

So hono(u)red to be opening the North American premiere of Love Story tonight in Philadelphia alongside my fictional husband, the wonderful Will Reynolds. It has been the greatest artistic experience of my career thus far.

More thoughts to come...

But tonight? My dear Emma Williams, this one is for you. xx

10 September, 2012

TomAYto TomAHto...


"Pasta!" - Emma Williams and Michael Xavier in the Original London Cast, and Will Reynolds and Alexandra Silber in the North American Cast as Jenny and Oliver.


All of them such wonderful friends too. 

#LoveStoryLoveFest

09 September, 2012

The Dog

In an almost perfect line, all they could do was stare.

     “What is it?” asked Andrey Tenderov.
     “Clearly it is a fence” said Dmitri Petrov.
     “I know,” said Andrey, wrapping his arms tight about himself for the winds were impaling, “but what is it? Why is it there?”
     “Well, to keep things in, of course” Dmitri clipped.
     “And to keep things out” droned Grigory Boleslav.
The air stabbed with a new kind of utterly forbidding cold. It reduced the prisoners to a constant nervous irritability that broke out over every trifle—no one could think or work or sleep.
     “It is so ferocious!”
     “Oh that’s nothing—” said Grigory, “you should have seen the fence they put up around the factory where I worked in Petersburg. It was an abomination.”
     “No one asked for your life story Grisha” Dmitri snapped.
     “Oh sit on your cello bow” Grigory retorted.
     “Well, I don’t think I would enjoy that as much as you.”
     “Piss off.”
     “Ah, ‘Piss off’—the retort of the inarticulate!”
Shura couldn’t take it,
     “Both of you be quiet—” she barked, “it is too cold.”
Just then, Yevgeny approached with a broad smile, holding a dog nearly half his size. The dog’s face was comically expressionless—his body inert in Yevgeny’s arms, neither distressed nor delighted.
     “Hello!” Yevgeny cried in sheer delight. “Look! Look!”
     “What on earth is that?” Dmitri Petrov asked, aghast.
     “It’s a dog!”Yevgeny lifted the dog upwards toward them as if he had loved the creature all his life.
     “I know it is a d—” Dmitri Petrov caught himself in the center of his frustration. Shura had recently teased him about having a temper. He was appalled, and endeavoring to be better (though he insisted that he did not have a temper, it was Yevgeny that merely had an effect on him). He closed his eyes, took a breath, and said calmly, “Where did you get the dog?”
     “He crawled below the fence over there!” Yevgeny exclaimed, gesturing with his shoulder.

There it was, clear as anything: if you looked hard enough one could see the dog had indeed burrowed himself a tunnel through the frost below the fence. The plainness of the action pleased her. She looked back at Yevgeny, beaming.

     “Well done, little one!” she said, wrapping her hands around the dog’s snow-covered face, scratching behind his ears.
     “Isn’t it marvelous Shura?” said Yevgeny, “Look at him— he’s got nothing! No owner, no food. But he has free-ness! Look at him! Take in it!” With that he placed the dog down and watched as he ran, barking, calling for Yevgeny to chase him! “The rains fall, he doesn’t mind, he bathes in his freedom!” He picked a stick up form the ground and ran toward the dog, tossing it for him to fetch. He turned back to them, his smile somehow warming the entire day.
     “What shall you call him, Yevgeny?” called Perchik.
     “Dmitri!
     “What?” Dmitri Petrov snapped, as he threw his attention to Grigory who was doubled over in hysterics.
     “Yes! In honor of you Mitya! Now we shall have Dmitri the Dog and Dmitri The Person. Isn’t it lovely?”

Dmitri Petrov looked to Shura and Mikhail for assistance in the matter, but they both just shook their heads and smiled, the entire proceeding deeply amusing to them both. Mikhail extended an arm to his friend and pat him on the shoulder, as if to say come now Dmitri Petrov, it is actually very sweet. He was met with a stony stare, and a plain-stated,
     “I am leaving…”

Dmitri folded his arms over his center, turned on his boots, and headed back toward the barracks. They watched him go, muttering to himself, kicking the ground as he traveled. Perhaps it was best.
Shura turned to Mikhail and they shared a laugh—honest cheerfulness (the kind not manufactured or played at) was hard to see these days, but here it was: his thinning face produced a smile so spirited her heart heaved. He pulled her toward him, kissing the side of her head, overcome with the joy of it all.

     “Wait! Just wait until I show Anatoly! He so loves dogs!”


They all watched as the dog returned to his tunnel and slid to the other side of the new, imposing fence, then back again, his every atom free of care, his every interest, merriment.

     “Well, I’m going back” Grigory Boleslav said, “watching creatures have fun in internment depresses me.”

She turned back to Yevgeny. He watched as the dog dug his way to the other side for the final time, below the fence and out of sight. As if he sensed the play was done,
     “Look at that” Yevgeny said, suddenly reverential, “the dog does not know borders. We should learn from him.”

01 September, 2012

75th Birthday

Today would have been my Dad's 75th birthday.

September is upon us now, and it heralds the coming of the nostalgic months, a time for reflection and thoughts of new beginnings...

Always a believer that everything happens for a reason, I can't help but sense that I have been presented with the story of Jenny Cavilleri at just the right moment-- on this, Michael Silber's 75th birthday, I am no longer focused on the grief of "being left behind,"but can rather identify with the uncanny peace and clarity of those that move onward.

Happy Birthday Papa.
"Oh the days dwindle down, to a precious few...
September... November...
And these few precious days
I'll spend with you.
These precious days
I'll spend with you..."
                   -- from "September Song"

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