2/19/2011

Paralysis Point

Call it pre-Spring break burnout (Ok, it's still 3 weeks away, but that's close enough, right?), or perhaps it's taking 2 PhD seminars (which I was not advised against, but honestly should have probably paid more attention to) AND Burke in one semester. Perhaps it's even just my own self-doubt that I'll actually, eventually, pull this semester off as I stare at deadlines and a mountain of papers.

The result is simply that I just feel paralyzed, which is stalling me on projects I may (or so I'd like to believe) have otherwise already started. I'm not *technically* behind on anything, but I feel like I'm just barely making deadlines. I don't like working that way. It makes me paranoid. Too much pressure. I'm sure that speaks on some level about my preference for feeling like I'm in control of a situation as opposed to the other way around.

Or maybe I simply fear showing up to CIS one day and everyone insisting that I Have No Clothes.

Pressure
Pushing down on me
Pressing down on you
No man ask for
Pressure
...
It's the terror of knowing
what this world is about
watching some good friends scream
LET ME OUT
- Queen, David Bowie "Under Pressure" (excerpt)

I could really use a day or two to allow my mind to go quiet. I think from that point I might come out the other side (once looped back and headed again in a forward direction) that I will be much more productive.

I think I may have just talked myself into giving myself a mental health day tomorrow. Now, let's see if Jenkins allows me to actually do it though ...

***

Once I began considering all of the ways that Reflexivity can (and has) informed my practical work I've been moreso attaching thoughts to the administrative/organizational aspects, most likely since that is the hat I am currently wearing. On March 19, I go back into rehearsal as a director (what was that I was just saying about feeling buried with school? Oh, and I'm now going to have less time to keep up with the reading/writing that already feels overwhelming? Woo lard.) and I am hoping that I have more thoughts there. Looking forward to it, actually.

This is not to knock the organizational applications of it, I just think that I am going to be more excited about how this plays into notions of collaborative creation and to my own process.

That's an odd paradox. I'm complaining about feeling buried now but I'm looking forward to having more to do, thinking it's going to be somehow liberating and give me a new burst. And you know what? It probably will.

I'd like to speculate though that there's a reflexive process at work with a great many actors. There are a lot of planes of thought and recognition that have to happen, and to even talk about makes it seem a far more complicated thing than most would likely give it credit for.

An actor first and foremost is always working through their own personal orientation. In a scripted play they then have a text, but which the many actors in a show as well as the director could all have different interpretations of. So we now have X # of frames in operation (X of course being the # of people involved). Any skilled ensemble is going to spend as much time as they can though "getting in the same frame" and it's arguable in general or in specific cases if this is accurate (or even possible). Add to this potential resistance from an actor towards the director's frame, and even a director's inability to co-create that frame with an ensemble an you can easily find a muddle as a result. Actor-Text-Character-Director-Actor-Character.

We now approach the space where an actor playing a character is in the direct act of working with those other actors playing characters in a "hands off" sort of rehearsal where I director won't stop and start. Like a run through of an scene, act or the show. We now have interaction of these actor-characters and certainly it's going to be hard to locate where one begins and another one ends.

We finally get to the final step (which should never be the afterthought but to often is) of adding an audience who literally have a frame forced on them though they walk in with their own orientation. They are now being asked as a whole to see things the same way, the same way that the director will likely say was the "right" interpretation of the text that they "coached" the performers up to accurately. (So, so many issues of reflexivity to consider here in "interpretation" "translation" and "direction" that already my head swims - questions are only begetting questions)

What precisely the hell is going on then? Internal and external issues within the individual (audience member, actor), between the actors and audience, between the actors and the direction and the text and that possibility of character as self as well as other simultaneously who is also encountering other actors who are in the same exact predicament.

As the semester moves forward and I get into rehearsal I will make a point to take notes where ever I can on what I'm seeing (and not seeing(, the questions that I am asking (and not asking), and what is possible (or impossible).

See, just thinking on this has my heart and head lighter than when I began. Somewhere along the way I stopped feeling sorry for myself and am actually now wearing a smile.

Though I still think I'm going to give myself that mental health day tomorrow. The yard needs tending, and I need quiet.

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1 Comments:

Blogger THE SPIRITUAL HOBO said...

I like your site. Thanks! Here is a true story of mine in return.

I BROKE THE TABOO WITH A TATTOO
Lisa Nicole Lopes had premonitions about her own death, but she wasn't able to avoid it, despite the early warnings. I feel that I can relate to her, but I dealt with similar suspicions (of my own) differently than she did and I, unlike her, am here to tell you what I did to survive my first encounter with The Reaper.

Lisa Lopes was better known as Left Eye (a nickname that a boyfriend gave her because he said that her left eye was lazy). She was one of three singers in the 80's band TLC. Her premonitions about her own death and subsequent untimely demise are well documented, because Lisa and a crew were filming a documentary in Honduras during the time. Left Eye Lopes spoke on film about her omen, and again after a car that she was riding in had run over and killed a young boy. She lamented that the spirit that killed the boy was actually aiming for her but had missed.

Lopes paid for the little boy's funeral and did what she could to comfort the lost lad's family. Apparently Left Eye was right about the spirit that haunted her, because a month after the boy's death, Lopes died in a car crash (in Honduras). This time she was driving. Lisa was the only one in the vehicle that was wearing a seat-belt, but she died... and everyone else survived.

After hearing a story like this, some would say that it was Lisa's time, and that there wasn't anything that she could do to avoid it. Had I not gone through a similar situation, I might agree. But since I did, I don't.

There was a time when I felt like (my) death was close to me. I ignored the eery feelings for awhile, chocking them up to pessimism, but eventually I faced the strengthening force, first by admitting to my self that it existed. Left Eye got this far, but recognizing spirits isn't rocket science for god's sake. You have to fight shit like this, not freeze like a deer caught in the headlights!

I FOUGHT MY TABOO WITH A TATTOO.

It was 1986 and I was in Davenport, Iowa, when I finally decided to face the Reaper before he faced me. Since the Reaper has no face, I'm speaking figuratively.
I was sitting on a bar stool when a fellow came in asking if anyone wanted to get a tattoo. We chatted, and before too long I was the customer that he was looking for. We left the bar and went to a little garage space that he tattooed out of. The scene was totally unprofessional, as far as tattoo shops go, but since I was a carny (carnival guy) it wasn't anything new to me. I stopped the artist from apologizing for the place and we got down to the business of picking something out to tattoo on me.

There wasn't a lot to choose from, no walls of colorful flash or volumes of designs just a single, thinly filled, loose leaf binder. Having never wanted a skull tattoo, I surprised myself by selecting one with a black rose between it's teeth. "That's the Black Rose Of Death tattoo," the needler told me. "Perfect," I proclaimed! "It's just what I need to fight the reaper. Put it on my left arm where I can keep my eye on him.ยจ

I believe that the left represents the spiritual side and the right represents the physical side, so my tattoos are placed accordingly. One month later, in Chicago, I was stabbed (in the heart and stomach) to death. The doctor that saved me, said that I have a new birthday and... I still have that tattoo, too.

9:14 PM  

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