"Why, it' Christmas Day"

All is calm, all is bright. A lovely, completely relaxing holiday. I hope your was too.

Here is a recipe for Peppermint Bark that I love... (consider it my Christmas gift to you??)

Merry Christmas.

Opening Night

Oh what a night.

Check out Reelkandi's Carousel featurette!

Ode to Raspberry Jam

I love jam. While I am currently indulging in Marks & Spencer's beauuuutiful Blueberry, I have, and always will, nurture a love of Raspberry.

One of the perks of the chillier seasons is enjoying the heart- and soul-warming foods of winter: hot roasted vegetables like kale, brussel sprouts, parsnip and potato, as well as soup soup soup.

BUT, among the simplest and most versatile of these winter warmers is the classic TOAST. And on my toast? Well, It has to be peanut butter preferably Skippy™) and Raspberry jam. I just ate two slices RIGHT NOW. And! I did that thing where you get the laaaaast little bit of jam off the empty plate...without shame...

Now before you go on a second longer thinking "RASPBERRY?!!" let me just say this: Some jams are easy to love. Strawberry and Grape? They're no-brainers. Strawberry and Grape are like those popular girls who wear skimpy tops with nothing left to the imagination.

But Raspberry? My, my. Raspberry is like the smart girl in school, the one with her own sense of style. You think she’s too weird for you, you'll never understand or accept her... But when she starts talking, and you find out she’s amaaaaazing, and she doesn’t even give a damn if you like her? Suddenly, she’s leagues more attractive than skimpy t-shirt girl.

Rock on Raspberry.


(...go on... lick it off the plate... you know you want to....no one is looking...)

Behind the Scenes: Backstage

What the audience never gets to see...

Today: The Election

This is going to sound overly sentimental and I am aware of that.
But. Today.
Today is the beginning of a new world.
And though I missed that magic stateside, I was able to participate in an entirely different American experience: witnessing the international community rise up with overwhelming fervour for an Obama victory.
It was magic over here in an utterly different way.

So, that being said, I decided to purchase a copy of The Times for my children.
I don't know if I will have any, or if I do, how many I might have.
But I wanted to freeze this moment of hope, joy and almost unendurable pride I felt for the country I walked away from so many years ago, traveling the world in an attempt to discover a place that would match my ideals, ethics and deepest desires.
I thought I had turned my back on these ideals, but to refer to a passage I wrote earlier this year:

"A traveller. Perhaps that's it. Though my travels hardly feel worthy of comparison to those of the greats-- Rosalind's full circle to and from Arden, Bilbo Baggins' There and Back Again. I am no explorer like Vespucci, not romantic enough for a gypsy nor pious enough for a pilgrim. Ahh America. How I had forgotten you, and how I longed to remember. Was blind but now I see, (as they say). And though I know I am no great traveller of Shakespearean or Historical proportion, I share with them and with us all, a cardinal desire: all I have ever wanted is what we all long for-- a place in the world. A home."

The thing is, I wanted to be able to say to those children  
I was there that day, 
     I remember it. 
I was so proud to be alive to witness it. 
This copy of The Times marks it; 
     it was very very special 
and you are holding a piece of that day in your little hands.

The cover of The Times is a photograph of Barack Obama and the title reads "A New Dawn," and I bought it because it symbolises for me the thought that anything is possible, that the pursuit of a dream is not just a futile notion instilled in us to get us through the difficult hours of our days. That, to quote President Elect Obama himself,  

"we've proved once more that the true strength of our nation comes not from the might of our arms or the scale of our wealth; but from the enduring nature of our ideals: democracy, liberty, opportunity, and unyielding hope."

... and as I thumbed through the edition, I came across another image that moved me.
It was an advertisement for Carousel, containing a photograph of me from the production.
Right there,
     in the same edition of The Times.
The very paper I had saved for my future children to show them that anything is possible contains a photo of their mother;
who, with tremendous, unutterable gratitude, pursues her individual goals and dreams,
     and will someday teach them that
YES, THEY CAN.

They really can.

Today: The Election

This is going to sound overly sentimental and I am aware of that.
But. Today.
Today is the beginning of a new world.
And though I missed that magic stateside, I was able to participate in an entirely different American experience: witnessing the international community rise up with overwhelming fervour for an Obama victory.
It was magic over here in an utterly different way.

So, that being said, I decided to purchase a copy of The Times for my children.
I don't know if I will have any, or if I do, how many I might have.
But I wanted to freeze this moment of hope, joy and almost unendurable pride I felt for the country I walked away from so many years ago, traveling the world in an attempt to discover a place that would match my ideals, ethics and deepest desires.
I thought I had turned my back on these ideals, but to refer to a passage I wrote earlier this year:

"A traveller. Perhaps that's it. Though my travels hardly feel worthy of comparison to those of the greats-- Rosalind's full circle to and from Arden, Bilbo Baggins' There and Back Again. I am no explorer like Vespucci, not romantic enough for a gypsy nor pious enough for a pilgrim. Ahh America. How I had forgotten you, and how I longed to remember. Was blind but now I see, (as they say). And though I know I am no great traveller of Shakespearean or Historical proportion, I share with them and with us all, a cardinal desire: all I have ever wanted is what we all long for-- a place in the world. A home."

The thing is, I wanted to be able to say to those children  
I was there that day, 
     I remember it. 
I was so proud to be alive to witness it. 
This copy of The Times marks it; 
     it was very very special 
and you are holding a piece of that day in your little hands.

The cover of The Times is a photograph of Barack Obama and the title reads "A New Dawn," and I bought it because it symbolises for me the thought that anything is possible, that the pursuit of a dream is not just a futile notion instilled in us to get us through the difficult hours of our days. That, to quote President Elect Obama himself,  

"we've proved once more that the true strength of our nation comes not from the might of our arms or the scale of our wealth; but from the enduring nature of our ideals: democracy, liberty, opportunity, and unyielding hope."

... and as I thumbed through the edition, I came across another image that moved me.
It was an advertisement for Carousel, containing a photograph of me from the production.
Right there,
     in the same edition of The Times.
The very paper I had saved for my future children to show them that anything is possible contains a photo of their mother;
who, with tremendous, unutterable gratitude, pursues her individual goals and dreams,
     and will someday teach them that
YES, THEY CAN.

They really can.

Domestic Happenings, Episode 5: Acting it Out

Oh. DEAR. So D and I do this thiiiiing that goes a lot like this:

D: [Insert stupid thing here]
A: [pause] Uh... I'm sorry what?
D: [Stupid thing again]

One thing I really love about D, and I mean I really love it, is that whenever you ask him to do something again he not only does it, he does it at again at 100%.

A: Okay okay let's do that again!! Okay YOU be the X and I'll be the Y and we will ACT it OUT!
D: Okay okay!
Sometimes it is a scene from a film.
Sometimes from a little amusing anecdote from our lives.
Sometimes it is a little scene we have made up ourselves....for fun...
But regardless, when we say we are gonna ACT it OUT, we DO.

At 100.

Love it.

On the Road: Rehearsing in Edinburgh

Some images from our stint at The Festival Theatre in Edinburgh...

Behind the Scenes: Tech Week

Images from the Churchill Theatre in Bromley.

From Wikipedia:
Technical week (also called tech week or production week) refers to the week prior to the opening night of a play, musical or similar production in which all of the technical elements (such as costumes, lights, sound, and makeup) are present during rehearsal for the first time.

Prior to this point, the actors may have been rehearsing in a separate rehearsal hall, or on the stage but without all technical elements present. At this point in the rehearsal process, it is expected that the creative aspects of the production are ready. Actors have their lines memorized; lights, sound, scenery, and costumes have been designed and completely constructed. If the production is a musical, then the orchestra has rehearsed the music completely, and any dancers are prepared with their choreography memorized. During technical week all of the various technical elements are fully implemented, making the rehearsals very similar to the actual performance.

The purpose of tech week is to rehearse the show with all technical elements in place. This allows the actors to become familiar with the set and costumes, the technical production crew to iron out unforeseen problems, and the director to see how everything comes together as an artistic whole. Tech week is when practical problems with the implementation of production elements are discovered. For example, an actor may report that their costume restricts their movement or that a hand prop is overly cumbersome. A set door that performed fine the week before may bang shut too loudly now that there are live microphones on the stage.

Rehearsals during technical week generally start just after lunch and often run until midnight or later. The first few rehearsals are characterized by the frequent stopping and starting of scenes so that the technical crew can practice their necessary duties (such as executing their cues or scene changes correctly). That the director will make major changes to various artistic elements during technical week is the rule, rather than the exception. Everything that goes wrong during a rehearsal is expected to be fixed by the next day.

The repetition and the long hours make tech week boring and tiring for the actors. For the technicians, it is the most hectic part of a show's run, as they are forced to do a massive amount of work getting timings and cues correct, often without having seen the scenes in their entirety. Tech week is a very stressful time for all involved in a production. As the week wears on, sleep deprivation increases and tempers often wear thin.

Once the show is running smoothly, the last one or two rehearsals of technical week are often dress

rehearsals open to the public in which the play is performed completely, sometimes with the audience purchasing discounted tickets.

* * *

This is one of the most exciting stages of creating a piece of theatre: watching everyone's weeks and months of hard work come together over a week of twelve to fifteen hour days to create the three hour musical you see when you come to the theatre.

The crew and stage management team will show up around 8am (if not earlier) to set up all of the props, furniture and set pieces they have already collected from the property designer and creator the night before. They create a stage right and stage left prop table (or in our case, a props shelf), complete with labels detailing every single prop and it's location. The crew has already been building the set for over three days.

Around the same time, the Wardrobe department receive the costumes from Angels, the costume builders, and label and deliver every costume to the designated dressing rooms. They prepare to iron, sew and alter and discard as needed throughout the day.

The lighting team has set up their lighting board and has begun to assess the set and what lights are available, and they begin work immediately. In this particular production, there was a real challenge with lighting due to the projections.

The sound team are setting up the sound board, testing and setting up the speakers, the fold-back, the orchestra mics, and then labeling and distributing company microphones, colouring mic cords, preparing hair clips and elastics.

The cast arrive at 10, and get in to costume, microphones, make up and hair, ready to begin from the top of the show at 11. (In our particular instance, the orchestra did not arrive until the second day for the Sitzprobe, because the prologue takes the entire first day of tech, which we do with a rehearsal piano.)

We then take the show, moment by moment, detailing every single technical aspect until it is just right, only moving on when we are all happy with it. There is tremendous pressure to do it quickly, because it is always important to remember that the first preview is Friday evening.

There are multiple concerns in a musical: can you dance safely on the floor? is it too slippery? too tacky? can we hear the orchestra? can we hear ourselves? Can we see backstage? Can we make that quick change? Can we get to the other side of the stage in time to make our entrance? Will this hairstyle withstand The Ballet? Can I breathe and sing and dance properly in this corset? Where should I exit? Who is the best person to set the table in this scene? Do the costumes look right in this lighting state? How will we handle this scene change?

The theatre is a tremendously complicated thing, but it is a series of delectable and sometimes maddening problems to solve, all in the name of art. It is always fascinating to think about what has gone in to creating the finished product on the stage.

"The drama is not dead but liveth, and contains the germs of better things."

William Archer, About the Theatre

Come ride the Carousel

"The World belongs to you as much as to the next fella. 

So don't give it up..."

Having recently completed the final week of rehearsal I can safely say that you will not be disappointed, and that it is gonna be pret-ty gosh darn good.

Dark. Gritty. At times quite graphic.
Romantic. Evocative. Incredibly sensual.
Uplifting. Cathartic. Soaring.

Lindsay*, Adamº and David˚˚ have created something absolutely incredible, and I feel so unutterably honored to be a part of this beautiful production of an already exceptional piece, skillfully wrought by two of the greatest talents in theatrical history, and considered the "Best Musical of the 20th Century" by no less than Time Magazine. 

...See you there.

* Posner,  º Cooper,  ˚˚ Firman

Domestic Happening, Episode 8: The Hills are Ailve...

...with the sound of crazy...

Forgive me....but, I mean, I had to share....

Return...

Hello there,

I have recently returned from the states, helping my mother clear out my childhood home (she is moving West very soon), and low and behold, in the musty depths of belongings, lay a pile of National Geographics circa 1926-1937. My eyes widen, I oggle, I gasp (one from the dust, two from the magazines) and select a copy at random: "1929" it declares in vintage font.

I peruse the contents, opening the pages unsystematically (this is how I traditionally read anything that isn't fiction - I select a page at random, usually near the back, and "read" it backwards... perhaps the in Jew in me...?), and what should be starring back at me but a full spread of Old Ronda looking exactly the same. I gasp again, this time inhaling a mouthful of dust, sending me in to a double frenzy of excitement and wind constriction! When I finally get settled once again I dive back into the pages, only to discover the entire 1929 issue devoted to Spain, with forty or so pages dedicated solely to Andalucia. Stunned, mouth agape at the seeming coincidence, I poured over every delicate, brittle page. From The House of the Moorish King, to the bullrings, to The Alhambra, every image is as evocative, haunting and spiritual as the memory, (with an incredible sprinkling of time). The image of The Alhambra, in fact, appeared identical to my memories, with the very fine exception of a singular moving ghost of a woman dressed in white period attire moving through the distance. Magic. And to think that "1929" had merely lay, anticipating perusal, all this time.

You know, it is funny, when we say we return it naturally implies we've been somewhere else. But thanks to a collection historic National Geographics, and a handful of packing away one's past, I have more than returned from Michigan, I have returned from Somewhere Else, (which I like to think of as a town like any other). Back to London with it's soot and cloud and distinct lack of summer. Yes. It may still be Monday in the middle of our lives, but we are not who we were when we began. Italo Calvino puts it brilliantly in Invisible Cities:

"...what he sought was always something lying ahead, and even if it was a matter of the past it was a past that changed gradually as he advanced on his journey, because the traveler's past changes according to the route he has followed: not the immediate past, that is, to which each day that goes by adds a day, but the more remote past. Arriving at each new city the traveler finds again a past of his that he did not know he had: the foreignness of what you no longer are or no longer possess lies in waiting for you in foreign, not-yet-possessed places."

And of course, I suppose this is largely how I felt upon return from Spain, and therefore have not been in touch sooner. Return presented me with a second quest: the search for words to articulate the experience. So much returning, ha! Funny how one is never prepared for the same ritual that occurs every time: being propelled back into the mainstream and challenged to bring what we learned into the busiest corners of our lives. The world immediately begins to forcefully intrude. The ability to settle into silence evaporates like fog. Ready or not we are presented with new tasks. And of course, the outer trappings of our lives still appear relaively undisturbed, while internally tremendous change has taken place. Post-Spain I was Rip Van Winkle (sans beard): a mystery to myself, walking around the kitchen muttering "how did I get here?" Looking in the mirror to find a familliar stranger looking back.

All that being said, I do hope since our time together your lives have been full, and that the warmth and colours of Spain have not yet worn off. I feel it's breezes every now and again and I do feel contented. How was the remainder of your trip? I thought of those who remained peacefully behind while I was being plunged into an array of concerts and auditions, (there was one, particularly amusing meeting in which I had to be a blind Victorian socialite being viciously eaten by an CGI invisible werewolf to be played at some point by Benicio Del Toro...I don't know how a person is supposed to do that really...). Anyway, I hope the summer has been kind to you.

I begin rehearsals for Carousel in a few weeks, and have been taking time to enjoy the calm before the storm. (You certainly have a pair of house seats at The Savoy with your name on them if you are ever in this neck of the woods.) And speaking of necks of the woods (??) I am hoping to be in the Northwest someday soon (L and A extended a lovely invitation, plus a new West coast base for my mother should get me out there post-haste) and I will certainly let you know if that ever comes to be.

In the meantime, please know I think of you often, and do hope our paths cross again someday soon.

Sending the fondest wishes from across the sea,

Alexandra x