Adventuring

I've realized that "daily updates" are going to be nearly impossible. I leave for school around 7:00 and don't get home until about 19:00 and that's only if I come home straight after school and don't go hang out with friends or study or something, which I did a good bit this week.

And what a week's it been. I feel more self-aware as an actor and a human being. It's quite a strange feeling to express, but what I'm learning goes much deeper than any profession can. Acting is, among other things, a study of humanity. We sink deep into our souls to find the parts of us that make us human - our sadness, our fears, our anxieties. Then, in one way or another, we pull them out as necessary. Acting isn't about "pretending" to be our characters. While we must be careful to have clear lines of reality, acting is really about being or becoming  the character we've been assigned to play. It can be challenging, and even terrifying. Hard enough to understand ourselves and our own motivation, actors are tasked with the ability to understand another person so deeply that, if we so wish, we can take on that person as if the character were ourselves and we were the character. It's beautiful and frightening all at the same time.

I'll eventually do a post about what I've learned and a separate post about all the amazing wonderful people I'm meeting - of which there are several. But I suppose, since today was so lovely, I'll take this time to account a singular day.

The Fun Bit

I'm going to recount the last bit of my day before the first, because while I try to be confident, I doubt that I'll keep your attention throughout the entire post. So for those of you casual readers feel free to read to the of this brief (but fun) section and move on with your lives. If, however, you are curious as to what a day at a theater school such as LAMDA entails, read on!

Getting out of school around 5:30 today, I decided I was not ready to go home. I opted out of any party plans for the evening because I want to be rested for the weekend ahead, but I was certainly in the adventurous spirit. I rode the tube with my friends until I got to Leicester Circle. As soon as I emerged from the Tube I was struck with the beauty of it all. It was much like emerging out onto a subway stop near New York, but a good deal cleaner, a bit more touristy, and loads more sophisticated. A map informed me that the National Gallery was only a three minute walk down the road, so I followed where it pointed. I've been to the gallery before - last time I was here with my parents - but didn't recognize really where I was.

Suddenly, I turned a corner and before me loomed the National Gallery in all its majesty. The sun was out, and it was every inch the grand palace that it sounded like. I popped in through a side gate to avoid the crowds, picked up a program and began to wander. I wandered for a bit before I came upon a special exhibit, I wasn't quite sure what it was, but through the large glass doors I could see a machine that was fashioned after a woman - however, she looked like a saintly woman from an old painting, the kind that would usually have a halo. She stood a good 15 feet and would occasionally make motions that emitted a sound so loud and terrifying that even those across the hall could hear the sound coming from behind the closed doors. I almost didn't go in for impatience with the line, but just as I was about to turn to try another room the woman at the front called out "is anyone here by themselves?" I shot up my hand and was escorted past disdainful looks and judging eyes to the front of the line and through the doors.

There's no telling what this exhibit was. Someone, or someones, had fashioned larger than life statutes - no machines - no a combination of both - out of chains and pulleys, and what looked like plaster. Each was based on a saint of an old painting, and each stood larger than 10 feet. They were interpretations. For example, if you pushed a pedal at the bottom of the first saintly woman, she raised a pair of pliers to her mouth - the noise was caused by the visible machinery working to cause the motion. Apparently, this was a representation of a saint who had her teeth pulled out as punishment for something. St. Francis of Assisi was numbered among the six status. All in all, a fascinating exhibit.

Next I strolled through various rooms to I found a Monet/Manet exhibit. I spent a good time pouring over a painting, try to catch each detail, before moving onto the next. Truth be told I felt quite sophisticated. ;)

When I was done, I wandered outside and found a spot to sit on the short wall of one of the two great fountains that are situated on either side of the National Gallery at the bottom of the many sets of steps. I pulled out a new play that I had acquired at the LAMDA library over lunch, and in true Londoner-from, began pouring over the pages to keep from making eye-contact. ;) :) I just, it was more for fun than anything. Soon enough I was so steeped in the play, that I never noticed the man who came to sit next to me leave. I felt bad for being such poor company, but happy to have escaped an effortful conversation.

Once I had gotten through the first 20 pages (the sun was now beginning to set ever so slowly behind the museum, I pointed my feet towards a large familiar-looking clock that jutted above the surrounding buildings and seemed only a few blocks away.... It was much further, but I refused to turn back and finally made it to Big Ben, Parliament and the bridge which gave me a clear view of the Thames and the London Eye. It was well-worth the long walk.

On my walk over, I had noticed a pub that looked promising. I made my way back, and slipped into the place. It was not overly crowded, but had just enough people there to ensure me that the place had a decent reputation. I was given a small table that rest up against an island wall that separated a large booth from a row of tables. I dropped my backpack under the table but easily within sight and reach so that I could make sure its contents stayed safe, ordered a glass of wine and nestled back into the comfortable wall-couch-thing. I've forgotten what it is called, but it's quite simply when couch-like seating that lines a wall is used to seat those who wish to be a bit more comfortable - like the seating you would find in a booth, only it wasn't a booth. :) 

The atmosphere was perfect, my wine arrived only 5 minutes after I had sat down. That coupled with the play I'm reading - Ah! Wilderness! by O'Neil - made the thirty minute wait for the Fish-and-Chips a bit more bearable (I was quite famished by this point). It felt so beautifully picturesque: Me sitting in a position that allowed me to see the bar and the rest of the restaurant, just enough white noise to allow me to murmur my play aloud without being noticed, the two bartenders - one a young blonde, the other a young version of Richard Armitage only with a thicker London accent - slowly cleaning up the bar and the tables during lulls, a flower on my table, a play, and a glass of wine. It made me so blissfully happy. :)

Not wanting to be out too late, I managed to to make it to the tube and home by 10:45. Looking back on it, I did quite a lot in 3-4 hours. It really was the most wonderful quite, but enjoyable evening. :)

Now onto the school bit. :)

The School Bit 

I finally allowed myself to sleep until 7:30. The extra hour was needed since getting up to run at 6:30 has really zapped the energy out of me. The train ride was fairly standard - one hour, stood most of the way, etc. I wasn't going to stop at my little coffee shop just outside of Barons Court because I'm trying to be good and budget money well. Seeing, however, as I hadn't had time to grab breakfast, I snuck in for a cheeky iced green tea and banana walnut bread. It was excellent. :)

I continued on to school, which is only a two minute walk from the tube station. Since I was a bit early, I met up with a few of the girls in my group. We socialized until it was time for class and shuffled into the rehearsal room. Jenny L., our Shakespeare director, reminded of us of the various rehearsal times from 10:00 - 13:15. Emma, a lovely girl from Nottingham, and I have been assigned the first scene with Julia and Lucetta from two Gentlemen of Verona. I play Julia, and she Lucetta. We worked on our piece a good bit and were ready to go by the time it was our turn. We only had time to run through the first page or two (it's about 5 pages), but in those pages I discovered so much about my character and my approach to acting: I tend to get overly excited and sort of lost in my pursuit of the character that I never actually find her. I act instead of react, pretend instead of be. In forcing us to go slow, listen to each other, and only go through that one page, I slowly started sinking into the role. I've still got a good bit to go but this beginning bit is exciting!

Lunch passed as usual with a chicken pest panini and good company for lunch. Speaking of which!!! I get to make a gourmet cake again! I really am so excited seeing as I miss it quite a lot. The beneficiaries of my cake are my class group, more specifically Catiana (I'm probably butchering the spelling) who is Venezualan and hails from Miami, Fl. She loves dark chocolate, lighter but well-made, and strawberries. My plan is to make a light chocolate cake with chocolate frosting (extra for the enthusiasts) and then decorate the top with chocolate covered strawberries. I've no idea how I'm going to transport it, but I can already see it in my head. :) Perhaps I'll assemble it once at school. :)

The first [of two] classes that we had after lunch was Movement and Physical Theater. It's a been difficult to explain. Well, it's not difficult to explain, but it's difficult to communicate just how significant it was. The basic exercise has you start out on the floor. The goal is to completely let your mind shut down in order for your body to take the lead. If you do this right, you'll find your body want to naturally stretch and move to find the most pleasure out of any certain position. You start small, laying on your back with your eyes closed - this helps to keep you from feeling self-consious or thinking about the exercise too much. You move your legs and ankles and lower body in whichever stretches and positions feel comfortable. Allowing your body to move where it wants, you eventually reach a point where you're whole body is engaged. From this point you either will want to move or want to stay still - either way your goal is to obey your body. Sound too new age-y yet? The exercise goes on from there, but those are the basic principles. It was quite freeing actually, and allowed me to escape the incessant drumming of my thoughts.

Next was Voice. This will be a bit more tricky to understand, but I think it's really important as it has been one of the most influencing lessons I've learned and really emphasizes the main takeaway from this week.

The exercise built from a smaller starting point and escalated to this: In our group of four we had one person designated as the speaker and one as the focus point. The receiver was to give a bit of a monologue while look directly at the focus point. In the meantime the two others both had their hands on each of the speaker's feet, pressing them down evenly in the ground in order to establish a very strong sense of "grounded-ness." Staying grounded allows the character to come through rather than getting lost in the activity and shiftiness that we often experience as humans. Helena (one of my new dear friends and such a sweetheart) began as the speaker and I the point person. The monologue she gave wasn't particularly depressing, but the intensity of the moment was overpowering enough that by the end of it I had tears in my eyes.

It's so difficult to explain but I will try anyways: When you're standing in a space, intensely aware of the floor, your posture, everyone else's position in the room, and mostly the person right across from you, all this knowledge brings you to a place of acute self-awareness. Next. What has been the longest time a person has looked at you while discussing something difficult? Our tendency is to look away - either in embarrassment, or as a sub-consious attempt to reassure the person that though they disclose the contents of their heart, we do not pry or peer into them in any sort of exploitive way. Eye contact is intensely personal. Combine deep eye-contact and hyper-sensitivity to your surroundings, and you're bound to be affected by whatever is said. Should the speaker talk excitedly you feel the excitement growing in your own heart. And when the speaker's voice turns quiet, and their eyes fill with anguish, and their words come out fluidly but with expressions or deep hurt - your body and even your emotions don't register that it's not true. When you've reached that level self-awareness you no longer have to concentrate on "feeling sad for the person." Wave after wave of sympathy rolls over your body and you're suddenly transported. This is all very exciting, but I fear if I continue much longer I'll lose even those of you who have managed to read until the end. Already, I'm afraid, I've gone on too long. But it was worth it to me. :) 

What followed you'll have already read. And thus ended my first week at LAMDA. I have a lovely weekend to look forward to, and after that only two days at LAMDA before it's off to Stratford-on-Avon.

Cheers guys! x