October/And kingdoms rise/And kingdoms fall/But you go on.../...and on...

Okay, it's been published on the website so it must be true. My start date is officially the 6th of October, 2008, if any of you care about those kind of specifics. This will be two days after my bff gets married, in a wedding where I'm maid of honor. So it looks like I'll be flying out the next day, or that night, alone (no one can make the trip over with me, it seems), and arrive in London really early on the first day of classes, or just a few hours before that day actually starts. Pretty crazy, and the jet lag may be** a bitch. I'm hoping not. I found this little counter (above) and couldn't figure out how to add it to my formal blog layout, so I just posted it.

(**Non sequitur: Lately I've been writing "may be" instead of "maybe" quite a bit. I still occasionally do the latter, but it's not too consistent. Does anyone know if it's justifiable to do the former in specific usage, or am I just stupid?)

More on the concept of flying over alone another time. Or maybe never. That's a bit too gushy fare for me.

NY Event Number Ten: Watching ballerinas rock out.

Yesterday I had the opportunity to sit through the final dress of the new show, Memento Mori, by the company Ballet Deviare. It was unlike any ballet I've seen, and probably unlike any you've seen, but it left me leaving the Baruch Performing Arts Center thinking one thing:

I wish I was that hardcore.

Most like to think of ballet, of ballerinas, as flighty, fluffy, graceful, always beautiful, always just beyond the movement of mortals, and therefore somehow closer to the divine. Working with the same movement vocabulary and the same rep offerings over and over again (Swan Lake, Giselle, Swan Lake, Giselle...), watching ballet can sometimes feel like watching a dead art form something to be revived every so often in order to show the beginnings of this kind of choreographed movement. Various productions of Commedia dell'arte or classical mime can have the same affect. Don't get me wrong--these productions can still be inspiring and do serve their purpose (I'll always be the first person in line for a showing of Shakespeare done in tights and doublets, no doubt, and when there's a good period piece on Master Piece Theatre, just try to get me out of my house on a Sunday night--you'll not succeed.). But over time, as an audience member, things can get a little stale. And the stereotype surrounding the artform has alienated a large part of the theatre-going, dance supporting public. So it was great to see an original work, that threw a well-manicured middle finger up against the grain, while at the same time inviting in a new kind of audience.

Ballet Deviare was founded in 2003, by Laura Kowalewski and Andrew Carpenter and since then has been offering up work that would do any anarchist proud. Namely, it has been setting classical ballet to heavy metal music. Oh yes, that's right: pointe shoes and death metal. The live band that plays intermittently during the performance, Gwynbleidd, is billed as "a dark/aggressive/progressive metal music project." They're very good, and had me head-banging between dances. The final piece is actually danced while the band performs live, rounding off a show that feels more like a rock concert than a night at the ballet.

There is probably an argument against this sort of work in the ballet world, which probably deals with the great tradition of the art form, and the attempt to maintain it's old standards and ideals. But the people who make that argument seem to forget, or do not appreciate a simple truth that has also existed since the first company: Classical ballet is extreme. The very nature of this most beautiful movement is slightly masochistic. Ballerinas are essentially putting their feet, and the most fragile part of their feet, down into a piece of wood over and over and over again. Compound that with gruelingly long rehearsals in a company setting, outside classes to touch up technique, and any number of eating disorders that plagues the entertainment industry but always seems to be focused here, where the body is on display for constant wonder or constant scrutiny, and you come to realize that this is not the sort of thing for the weak of heart. Theatrical legend has it that dancers in a center very well known company would actually have their feet broken and set by doctors to gain a more perfect arch. So it's entirely appropriate that a company of ballerinas would work like this--with movement and music that is just as extreme as the art form itself. Co-founder and choreographer Kowalewski herself has a strong and long classical background, as well as a full length sleeve tattoo covering her left arm (which I was very sad to see was covered up in the one piece she was featured in, the only piece she did not choreograph from the show).

So if you're in New York and want some of your old ideas broken down, drop by some evening this weekend, and give it up to the ballerinas.

NY Event Number Nine: Going to an art opening.

I went down to East West Books tonight after my meditation class, to see a series of paintings called "The Madhubani." They were all hand drawn and painted by women--it's actually a tradition that has been passed down from mother to daughter over the centuries. They depict mostly various Indian gods, or some meditation on Indian philosophy/religion, and in that way, they seem to function almost as a prayer, as well as being visually stimulating. Apparently the paintings that you are most drawn to in the exhibit showcase something in their subject's energy that extends to the specific energy of the viewer, and that's why some paintings intrigue you more than others. The one I was most into sits to the right of this text, known as Jaladevi. The description is as follows:

One of the rarest images in the collection, Jaladevi (Goddess of Water) is the presiding deity of the primordial soup, water, rivers and oceans. She is also the Shakti force that breeds life in water and the living goddess who supplies nourishment to all forms of life. She sits on a crocodile among smaller water creatures (frog, fish, snail, water snake, salamander) holding lotus flowers in her hands and wearing a lotus crown. With her hair flowing in the water current, her benevolent smile and forward gaze is a blessing of nature’s bliss to all who worship her.

I do like the sea, it is true, so being drawn to this picture makes sense. I guess. I always walk on the edge of being a "true believer" as it were. But it's still pretty beautiful in its intricacy.

I hadn't been to the East West bookshop before this, and was really impressed by the amount of stock they had--books, crystals, natural musical instruments, home decor (I think I'll be going back for some bells I saw there, apparently designed to keep away evil spirits, but are also hand made and really cool looking), and a cafe/art gallery upstairs. Everything a modern day spiritualist needs is here, from sage to burn, to rune guides, to Buddhas in every shape and color. I think I'll be spending way more time in this shop, if only because of the novelty.

So often we forget about the divine, yet it is something that shapes our lives every day, whether we believe in a higher power or not. If we believe, how we display or don't display that belief or acknowledgment of that power shapes our lives just as much as some one who does not believe in such a thing. The idea of the divine has shaped and produced art on so many levels over the years, whether praising it or reacting to it, and therefore must be respected as a viable source of inspiration for the production of work. But nowadays, try to weave a little divinity into something, and you're often shuffled around with the label "Jesus Freak" or something else. I hate a morality play just as much as the next person--they're usually really dry, and they all end up the same way, don't they? And there's nothing less interesting than predictability.

Is this dismissal of work that has some kind of theological base occurring because we fear offense--we worry people will be hurt by our expression of something? Or do we work to create a "universal" spiritualism, something vaguer than a morality play, say, to make it accessible, and hope that we've somehow covered everyone's bases with what we've put together. This seems futile, as everything will offend at least one person for some reason no one could have thought of, before that person came along and got offended. So why is religion such a hot issue? Is it because much of the work done around/about religion is propagandic somehow--if you believe,"x" will happen to you; OR, if you don't believe, "y" will. How does one create work that provides the wonder, the awe, the release, and the appreciation that most strictly religious work is meant to inspire in us, and make it less...religious? Is that possible? And would it be nearly as powerful if you cut the whole ethereal thing out of it?

I don't know the answer to this, but it's something to think about for possible future projects. One thing is sure: without a concept of the divine, the exhibit I saw wouldn't have existed. Neither would the Sisteenth Chapel's ceiling, for that matter.

NY Event Number Eight: Seeing "Indiana Jones" before anybody else.

I stood outside for two hours in the rain, on line, in my soaked-through sneakers, standing under an umbrella, the use of which I find morally abhorrent (I'm a noir girl, damn it), that I had to buy, all in the abysmal area of Manhattan known as Kips Bay, which is the island's closest answer to a suburb. I don't like standing on lines, I don't like being wet, I don't like standing for two hours, I HATE umbrellas, and Kips Bay is lame. What does this prove?

Answer: People will do anything for Indiana Jones.

My friend Jenni got advance passes to see the movie two days before its official release on May 22nd. I don't know how she got them, but I feel like it may have something to do with her job in advertising (She went to a New York Times sponsored event the other day, and occasionally has a new bag, courtsey of various clients. I wish was fancy, but alas, I am not.). In any regard, she got them, passed them off to me, and I headed over through the pouring rain to grab us spaces in line. And was it worth it?

You bet your ass it was.

I won't talk about the plot of the movie (there's probably some secrecy clause I'm entitled to uphold, although I signed nothing), but let's say that while it went a direction I wasn't expecting, it did the legacy proud. And there were a lot of nod-backs to the first three films, which allthe fans will Love. And Marion Ravenwood, the best Indy girl EVER, was in it, and I can't ever complain about that. (Apparently, Karen Allen actually teaches yoga and designs knitwear. Both make her even more amazing.) I also think it was a nice close to Indy's story, and even after all these years, he will always be the first man in my heart.

Or maybe second to Han Solo.

Damn it. Who could choose between them?!

No, okay, Indy.

NO!

Damn it. We'll save that debate for another time.

But seriously: check this out.

"...I'm leaving on a jet plane..."

Not yet. But below is a picture of me backstage of the show I'm currently in (we close tonight), playing a GPS unit in a car. And oh yes, that's a stewardess's outfit. I look like I walked out of the Britney Spears "Toxic" video (I love that video!). The girl to my right is fellow cast member, Colleen.



This is what happens when you do favors for people. I was a last minute replacement when they had some girl drop out unexpectedly. My friend Jake asked me at an audition we were both at two weeks ago to step in, and I realized I wasn't doing anything else this weekend so might as well. I do more random stuff because I have nothing else scheduled, I swear. Another friend Andrew is also in the show, in the first piece of the evening, which was unknown to me until he sent out an invite e-mail. This just proves once again that the New York Theatre world is really only four people big, and that some where along the line, you'll have worked with everyone, even if just by-proxy.

I have to find/write another play wherein I play a stewardess so I can get my money's worth out of the costume. Though I have to say, I have a right mind to wear the little jacket out--it's ridiculous, but somehow cute in it's gratuitousness. Very dance recital. I need to put some darts in the back, though. I picked it up at Abracadabra, and I suppose it's meant to be one of those "sexy costumes"<--the company that manufactured it was called "Secret Wishes." It's made out of this kind of manufactured polyester that's closer to plastic, that I can only assume is really useful in terms of being easy to clean if something is spilled on it ("Wink wink, nudge nudge, say no more!"). I look very silly, I assure you. But I do so little in the play (the majority of my lines are directions: "Left turn in point two miles." "Make a left." "Remain on the current road.") that I had to do something to entertain myself. This was the best thing I could think of.

I guess this will be the last show I do in New York. That realization is kind of weird, considering the piece, and considering that it may very well be it for me in this city. But that can't true. I don't think I really believe that.

I wish I had little gloves that stopped at the wrist. That would be the ultimate accessory for this outfit.

Next time.