Sound the call - Installment 4

I realised this morning it was Rebecca's birthday, and I had no way of contacting her.
It made me upset. Her phone number doesn't work. And I'm in the middle of the woods.
So I will send this out to the universe:
...Happy Birthday Rebecca...

* * *

Today I taught. It is a wonderful thing to be allowed the oppourtunity (or perhaps forced??) to articulate (as in out loud) my experiences and thoughts on this art, this business, this crazy profession. And to also be forced, in a way, to view it both realistically and yet, positively. There is nothing like having to find the words... when there are sometimes just empty expanses of dull, cold suffering. It was great for them, but also really inspiring and affirming for me as well.

A lot of them asked me about various colleges, and my thoughts on types of training, auditioning, business detail things. And of course the WIW experience. I don't know if those thoughts are particularly interesting in this kind of forum.

But then some really thoughtful questions about the business versus the art, and one thoughtful boy asked me about failure and disappointment. Interesting. I was sort of caught off gaurd by these two words. They are thouhts that come up so often in the artist's conscience, and yet they can be confused with one another...

I was able to really delve into the serious differences between failure and disappointment, and it was helpful for me to identify how I felt about those things. Sometimes we cannot help the fact that we have completely different reactions to certain projects. Sometimes an audition becomes about something else entirely. One desires the validation far more than the job itself. Getting a job can become about approval from others, at times it can even be taken the extent of a confirmation of your existence and overall worth. This is obviously bad. Really, Silber, what would Howard Roark say...?

Take Project E: Exciting. Huge. An unbelievably big deal. Amazing revival, amazing role, director, choreographer. Probably glory, money and all that jazz associated with getting it. ... Didn't care. Why? Who knows. The world may never know. Auditioned. Got down to the last four with some VERY accomplished people, people I couldn't ever DREAM of being the same room with, let alone up against for a role like this. Ridiculous. Didn't. Care. Auditioned. I was fine (aside from the 10:30 in the morning thing). And I didn't get it. And I still didn't care. Onwards and upwards.

Take Project Five: Small. Barely paid. Unglamorous. Actually a pretty bad piece of writing, and an utterly il-portrayed character when you get down to it. Would have done nothing for me but fill a time gap, and keep me busy. No glory, no artistic merit, no money. Nothing. And I needed it more than anything. I auditioned something insane like 5 or 6 times, I got the impression the liked me quite a bit. And yet I knew I hadn't gotten it. And I was devastated beyond articulation, all belief in myself thoroughly shattered.

Now WHY was this job/situation different from others? Other job prospects came and went without a thought. At first I had no idea,Ii just swam around that day in a fog. I wasn't simply feeling low, but silently verbally abusing myself in the most damaging and toxic of ways. That "VOICE" one gets... the one that tells me I just "don't have what it takes" or "some people have it, some don't and YOU DON'T" and as it gets worse and worse and worse "You are worthless. You are inferior to everyone around you."

And as an artist it is difficult. So many people in life feel a status, a validation and purpose associated with their jobs, however menial or distinguished. One can feel constantly inferior to their friends and non-artist peers because their peers often have a status associated with a job, while we often, do not. The validation must come from you, and you alone.

Referring back to the original question: I suppose I believe, after it all, that disappointment is more often than not associated with circumstances, and the way we choose to view those circumstances; while failure is about The Self, and also, quite often, a choice. One may fail to get a role, but one is not a failure, unless one chooses to be. Ultimately, the only choice we have as artists and thus, sensitive people, is to use these moments as opportunities for evolution and growth. That is what life is all about: choosing growth, choosing to rule over the evil, the negative, the toxic, the damaging. "Timshel," Thou Mayest...
...And we have to understand that they are more often then not, these professional things are totally arbitrary.

At this point I needed a sip of water. And David's kind eyes twinkled from the corner of the room. I needed those too.

The boy looked at me after that longish answer. He paused for a while, then smiled.
"If you HAD gotten Project E or Project 5, would you be able to be here at Interlochen right now?"
I said no.
"Well then, I'm really glad you didn't get them... "


Thank you, thoughtful boy. I owe you one. I did not, in fact, do all the teaching today.

Sound The Call ... Installment 3

David and Robin are wonderful people.
They are my family.
I feel closer to them more than ever before, and my respect for them as educators and creative people only grows with time. We have had so many talks, so many discussions about theatre, acting, and art; but also about time, age, evolution, growth, life.

Yesterday David and I went "messing" (as my Dad and I used to call it) and played a game Dad invented called 20 turns, where every time you come to an intersection you have to chose right, left or straight, and after 20 turns you find something fun to do. It was wonderful. After 20 turns we got slurpees and chinese food and spent the day LAUGHING and talking and it was one of the best times I have ever had with him. He loves me. And I him. And it just means so much.

Sound the call - Installment 2

I went around to Judy ("Lady") Chu's yesterday for brunch. She is expecting and looks amazing, one of those women that gains exactly 8 pounds and just genuinely healthy, perfect, gorgeous and "glowy." I didn't realise her and husband Robert were "older parents," and because of this she explained Madeleine would be her first and last child, and I waxed on about the joys of having older parents, and on the pros and cons of only-childhood.

Robert cooked us some beautiful omelettes, complete with fresh vegetables (courgettes, mushrooms, peppers, tomatoes...) straight from their GLORIOUS garden in the back! Judy had also made lovely savoury muffins, still warm from the oven and garlic butter they had made themselves (who does that?! It's remarkable). I was so overwhelmingly impressed by their life.

They are both such interested and interesting people. A joy to talk with, and both endowed with this fantastic quality of observation-- noting and cataloguing things the average person might miss. And these details they discover and reveal to you with such beauty. It makes one experience that buzzy, "a little bit more alive" feeling... Their lives must be so rich. And how amazing parenthood will be for them, and childhood for Madeleine.

And it is sweet to see how nervous they are about screwing up their child. I think I intellecutually understand. Like Steve Martin's character says in Rob Reiner's "Parenthood," "when they are brand new, fresh out of the womb, it is like they are pure, you haven't screwed them up yet..."

They will be fine. As I reminded them, plenty of people have absolutely insane parents (look at both of my parents!) and they turn out just fine. At this, Robert brought up the concept of "Insanity Insurance." Insurance for your kid before they are born to pay for therapy and prozac, should you really fuck them up. I think it's a great idea, and I bet it would be a real seller.

Well anyway, it was gorgeous and I was so happy to see her. She is my friend. A very special and important person in the chronicles of my life, and I was happy to discover on this trip that perhaps I am that for her as well. I love when in life, you receive a confirmation that a relationship is reciprocated as you hoped it might be... those moments are vital.

David and Robin picked me up from Lady Chu's house and we drove up the coast to the very edge of michigan! It was beautiful, and we had a gorgeous drive. We stopped at the coast to look for rocks (in michigan we don't really have "shells" to speak of) and then in a small viallage called LeLenau and ate at The Bluebird reteraunt before heading home. A perfect day.

Tomorrow I teach a few classes and speak to the students. I am nervous.

Sound The Call - Installment 1

I am sitting here in beautiful Traverse City on a breathtaking day. The air is clear and crisp, and smells so clean and fresh. It possesses juuust that hint of autumn that makes one feel so thoughtful, and makes one feel so connected to universal sorrow and joy. Hard to explain I suppose, but this place does render me speechless at times. I have just returned from a glorious drive through the countryside seeing all of the sparkling freshwater lakes to the various fruit orchards and and vineyards. Northern Michigan is one of the most beautiful places I have ever seen... certainly a worthy addition to a list of paradises.

I arrived saturday after a brief (35 minute!) flight. David greeted me at the "airport" (more like glorified runway), to pick me up and take me to the campus. It was amazing to see him, and he greeted me with such excitement and familiarity, it felt so wonderful. He is in every way a father figure, and his opinion and guidance is more meaningful than ever.

Once on campus, he escorted me into the theatre and showed me around all the new facilities! About three summers ago I sang at the groundbreaking ceremony and actually physically put the first shovel in the dirt outside the theatre on what was to be an extension-- and now to see it in all its glory, my...

I am so proud of this place, and to see it growing and improving fills me with additional pride. Anyway, a huge new rehearsal room (identical to the theatre dimensions--how practical), a massive new set and costume shop underground, new fly space, offices for all the teachers and a full dressing room area. All of these things would certainly outdo my own drama school, and I am sure the dressing rooms alone are nicer than any off-broadway or fringe facilities. I was impressed. It was really remarkable and I was beaming.

There are also so many new things. The most beautiful hunter's lodge-esque library full of academic and artistic reference books, and an entire music library on the ground floor. Every play, video, CD or sheet music you could ever dream up is there...

A new greek amphitheatre!
A new creative writing building with a poetry recital stage.
A new MOTION PICTURE ARTS major and a full professional editing studio and movie theatre! (this is the swankiest thing i have ever seen)

So beautiful...

I was then let loose for an hour or so to explore the rest of the campus and I had quite a trip down memory lane.

My old summer cabins - Intermediate Girls Cabins 1, 4 and 18... I saw my name written in permanent marker all over the boards when I peeked through the windows. I felt the ghosts of childhood all around me. My father's smile was right behind me.

I walked along all my old paths, put my feet in the lake, sat in he gazebo and in my favourite, and very special tree outside the dance building.

The smell of the place: musty, a little mouldy and damp but naturally damp. It penetrates the nose and fills your chest with the essence of pine...

'Crimson'

There is a man in the suburbs
Whose heart keeps leaking.

Crimson creeping
     up into the cotton
of all his best shirts.
County police,
International doctors and scientists
investigate
with fascination.

Confused,
they concede to take him to the Undertakers
for sugar.

Tonight, while he sleeps
Mummified tightly in gauze,
his wife grips
his hand, and whispers a confession.

I have begun to regret your injuries less.

Squeezing the hand harder,
she smiles softly at the crimson
spreading across the surface,
infecting
one fibre at a time.

Photography: Anna

The Proms and John Adams

What an evening.

The Proms.

How to describe watching John Adams conduct his own music?

Like relief from an unknown hunger?
Like a cure for a disease I didn't realise I was plagued with?
I suppose I didn't realise my spirit was so malnourished, until John Adams revealed what I was missing.
Thank you John Adams, you have enlightened my existence.

Art is necesary. I knew that. But until tonight I only understood a sliver of the necessary. 1 - 7. He has opened 8 - infinity.
And 8 - infinity is necessary. As necessary as breath.

I have unpicked my brains for this.
I, so lost and small in this unforgiving place;
at times terribly alone with only my sometimes inflexible and intolerant personalities for company.
I have glided along the thoroughfares of spiritual banality,
the cobblestone alleys of indifference,
and arrived awake and beaming,
Here.

O John Adams,
Pure and unassuming man,
you allow me to fathom a life without limits.

And yet, that said, there is no way to justly articulate the experience I had tonight.
Not without limiting it. Not without cheapening it. Not without killing it completely.
Best leave it unsaid. Let it exist in another world, the world of memory, the effemeral...

This art, this music, this super food.
Yes. John Adams is the QUINOA of music.
Worship him.

Wound Dresser:
http://www.earbox.com/W-wounddresser.html

Filming 1408

The scene is actually completely improvised, as is much of the movie, but was terrifying because you're thinking "Not only do I have to be in the presence of John CUSACK, but I also have to try to be unassuming, um, good and on top of everything else I have to MAKE UP THE LINES?!!".

So I was trying to seem very nonchlant and all, and my cool skills utterly failed me.
Utterly.

Example:
John Cusack: So.... have you made a lot of films?

Al: Um, well, no, this is my first film. My only other professional
job was in musical theatre.

John Cusack: are you serious? what musical? one in the west end?

Al: um yeah, the woman in white, the andrew lloyd webber thing?
i played the [bad self deprecating hand gestures that MAY have
included the quotation thing people do with their fingers]
"damsel in distress."

John Cusack: Right. That's great. Anyway, your first film.
well you are doing great, you really seem like you've
been doing this forever.

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH...

[this is where i just don't know what to say. I SCRAMBLE for coolness, for nonchalance, for anything other than total akward silence... and it doesn't come. So out flies the lamest thing I've ever said.. and it is falling out in slow motion...]

Al: Thanks... YOOOOOOOU TOOOOOOOOOOO.

[WHAT?!!! really awkward pause. I AM AN ASSHOLE.]

John Cusack: Well... you know... I have....

[I know this. I saw him in The Journey of Naddy Gan. I AM AN ASSHOLE!!!]

Al: ... I know. I was... you know. it was supposed to
sort of be a joke...

John Cusack: uh huh...

Lonely today...

"And indeed there will be time
For the yellow smoke that slides along the street,
Rubbing its back upon the window-panes;
There will be time, there will be time
To prepare a face to meet the faces that you meet;
There will be time to murder and create,
And time for all the works and days of hands
That lift and drop a question on your plate;
Time for you and time for me,
And time yet for a hundred indecisions,
And for a hundred visions and revisions,
Before the taking of a toast and tea."

from The Lovesong of J Alfred Prufrock, T.S. Eliot, 1917

Photography: Study in Blue

Study in Blue
Oxford, England, July 2006
Model: Karen Ann Light

Karen is a dancer I found in Oxford whilst visiting my friend Alley for the weekend. I saw her and instantly felt inspired. She is a deeply passionate woman, and this photographic process was very much a shared creative experience. As you can see, her intensity, focus and unusual piercing beauty make her photograph like a dream.



www.alexandrasilberphotography.com

Fuerzabruta

Kit took me.
The (RE)Opening of The Roundhouse. A great big deal.
And I was there.
But I wasn't.
The dark water had me.
And then Fuerzabruta took me under with it, and taught me about drowning.
It is sometimes necessary.
Else how would we know to fight, and remember exactly what we are fighting for?

Bastille Day at the French Embassy

Kit was invited and needed a swanky guest (me!). Knightsbridge. Embossed invitations. Full security detail. SWANK!

Bastille Day is the French national holiday, celebrated on 14 July each year. In France, it is called la Fête Nationale. It commemorates the 1790 Fête de la Fédération, held on the first anniversary of the storming of the Bastille on 14 July 1789; the anniversary of the storming of the Bastille was seen as a symbol of the uprising of the modern French nation, and of the reconciliation of all the French inside the constitutional monarchy which preceded the First Republic, during the French Revolution. I know this because I received a full colour handbook about the event in both French and English. Bon. C'est fantastique.

Highlights included an Eifel Tower made of baguette.
A Tour de Triumph made of mereigue.
SO. MUCH. FOOD. that was very very small.
Red, white and blue flower arrangements (blue flowers = dyed carnations)
Many many women with perfect hair.
And many many men who shrugged Gallic-ly.

Verrrrrry civilized.

Then I got caught at the food table with a very boring Englishman who wanted to discuss the American deficit.
Then he wanted to talk about how much he loved squash, and how all people that didn't love squash were stupid.
Then I excused myself as politely as possible by pretending I knew someone across the... tent.
And whilst running away from him, I then proceeded to accidentally ambushed the Ambassador's wife in the WC.
"Pardon! Pardon Madame! Je suis désolé!"
Then Kit saved me from certain death and we hastily left.
Coffee.
Laughter.
Lovely. As usual.

Vive la France.