moved (just like in real life).

Hello blogosphere. I've has some complaints about my lack of blogging. I know, I know, I am so lazy! Well, I've decided to change my ways. But I felt a fresh start was best. I can now be found here:

http://brittneyfg.wordpress.com/

Please update your readers and blogrolls and whatever else as you see fit!

Thanks for hanging in...

iPhone, a love story.

I confess: I have been a hold out on the smart phone pretty much since their inception.  I was really not sold on the idea of my entire life being contained in a single device. Especially since I am prone to dropping things. And/or misplacing them. This is not good when it comes to expensive devices inextricably linked to my survival as a human in modern society.

And then I met the iPhone.

It all started one charming August afternoon as I travelled by canoe to the Island with a group of fellow camp counsellor types.  We were enjoying the late afternoon paddle across the harbour, intent on arriving at our BBQ destination on Centre Island, when a few of the rather burly canoeing instructors decided to rock the boat. Both literally and figuratively. We were an outdoorsy bunch and really not afraid of a little water, but sadly the many expensive electronics onboard felt differently about the H2O situation, concerns that we kindly expressed on their behalf to the burly, boat-rocking gentlemen.  More than once, might I add. Sadly, the pleas of our poor electronics fell on deaf ears…

Have you ever had that experience where you can see something happening before it does?

I knew the canoe was going to tip.  Saw it coming a mile away.  I’ve spent a lot of my childhood in canoes, it’s sort of a rite of passage…so I know how to balance and counterbalance and well, not fall out.  But, alas, sometimes the plunge is inevitable.  Mercifully for my plain little phone, I had the presence of mind as we were going into the water (the icky, slimy, weed-filled water of the section behind Centre, the regatta course part) to grab my purse from the seat next to me and hold it over my head. 

And so my boring little $80 phone survived the great canoe dump of August ‘09.  Only to be killed when I dropped it in the toilet the next week. 

Twice.

I am seriously that awesome.

It suffered a slow death, one in which I could text and answer the phone, even though no one on the other end could hear me.  This is incredibly inconvenient when one is job hunting.  And as it passed slowly into oblivion, I had time to contemplate my phone future.  Would I continue on my road of barely just the basics plans with no contracts and a seemingly waterproof, drop-proof, not particularly exciting little phone?  Or would I go a different route?

It was around this time that my poor, sad six-year old green iPod mini caught my eye.  Here was an opportunity to kill two birds with one stone (or get two birds stoned at the same time, as the Trailer Park Boys and The Photographer say).  And I chose to embrace technology.  And Rogers.  Although that second part was far less exhilarating…

Reality: the world at large has jumped online.  And if you don’t get onboard, you’ll be left in the dust.  This includes the biz.  Casting notices, job opportunities, contacts, connections, they’re all on the web.  And most artists don’t have day jobs that allow us the luxury of checking our email (that is, if we have day jobs and steady incomes, but isn’t that another tale and less of a love story?) at regular intervals.  When I leave my house in the morning, which is a relative term, I’m gone.  I don’t generally make it back before the sun goes down.  Which means that I miss out on hours and hours of email communications, job board postings, opportunities, in short.

Plus, it’s shiny.

In the week or so since I jumped on the bandwagon, I’ve managed to secure an internship, a job, and a good interview largely as a result of my newfound ability to communicate quickly and efficiently.  And all that music I stole from my sister’s collection of burned CDs?  I now know the track titles and artists, thank you very much, Shazam.  I’m damn near unstoppable at Sudoku.  I have the Complete Works of Shakespeare at my fingertips.  I can make electronic fart noises.  And I can track the Leafs on their way to the playoffs (ok, maybe I’m getting ahead of myself).  In just a few days, I’ve spotted a trend…

With iPhone, the world is my frikkin’ oyster.  Which is exciting.  And I don’t even like oysters.  They remind me of snot.

Risk and Excitement: The best first day of work. EVER.

The fun continues at Harbourfront Centre!

After my wild and crazy summer working at HFC’s Theatre Camp, September has seen my return to the Centre as an Artist Educator in the School Visits programme.  I really enjoy the title of “Artist Educator,” in case you were curious, because it somehow manages not to take the emphasis off of being an artist.  Artist is still first.  Which I think is really valuable, particularly in this educational setting, because the kids coming to us already have teachers in the traditional sense and they don’t necessarily need another teacher in the same way.  I think what we have to offer as artists first is what makes the programme really unique and valuable.

In a nutshell, here is what happens at my awesome new day job (or one of them, anyway): Teachers contact Harbourfront to register their class for one or more of our programmes, of which there are an almost infinite number.  The head honcho, who is a fairly fabulous lady, gets a feel for what the teacher is after and passes the assignment on to one of us Artist Educators.  We then work with the teacher to meet the needs of his/her classroom, which could mean many, many things, but the general idea is that we teach things that would fall under the headings of history, social studies, urban studies, environmental studies, and social justice education through the lens of whatever our individual artistic strength is—visual arts, performance, dance, music, etc. 

Part of Harbourfront’s mission is to make the arts and culture accessible to everyone in Toronto.  I think this is in large part why so much (if not most) of their programming is free, especially the summer festivals and many of the exhibits.  The School Visits programme is aiming to take that to another level and to not only make it accessible (although there is a small cost) but also to make it relevant and engaging. 

And, of course, one of our goals is to get kids (and ourselves) past that little voice in their (our) heads that says, “I can’t.”

Enter Ramune Luminaire (which is such a rockstar name), our guest for day one of Artist Educator training, also known as Artistic Development (much like teachers have Professional Development).  She is a really cool visual artist who facilitates workshops for all kinds of people, inclusive of everyone from the artistically trained to those who cringe at the thought of picking up a paintbrush.

But, in an effort to remind us that anyone can do art and that this is a really important message to communicate to all of our classes, Ramune started the day by having us make marks on paper to music.  You could use any mark-making tool or substance available, and they were diverse and plentiful, and all you had to do was make some kind of mark on the paper.  It didn’t have to be a picture, it didn’t have to be pretty, it just had to be…

This went on for a while, which was fun…and then we all got an envelope containing something meant to inspire us—a word, a phrase, a picture, an object, etc.—and our assignment was to respond artistically to it somehow.  I thought this was a really fun way to get us creating—and oddly I found that most of the actors in the room felt this was easier than making marks to music.  For me, I liked it because it gave me somewhere to start and something to play with (my envelopes contained objects—a cotton ball and then a sequin, which sort of reflects my life and personality in a strange way…but nevermind that right now).

And it just snowballed from there…

We worked on making books that expressed who we were, our only rules were that we had to take risks and whatever we were doing had to excite us.  And I think those are good rules for art and life, having to take risks and having to be excited about what you’re doing.  Because if you aren’t taking risks then you probably aren’t growing, either personally or artistically, because comfort zones become stagnant spaces fairly quickly.  And because if you aren’t excited about what you’re doing then it probably isn’t meaningful to you and you probably aren’t doing it to the best of your abilities and beyond, and art doesn’t pay well enough for that and well, life is too short to do things that aren’t meaningful and exciting.

Later we were sent out to explore Harbourfront and its immediate neighbourhood, since much of what goes on there is site-specific.  And it was nice to sit there and sketch the Canada Malting Company building (an old warehouse, complete with silos), to people watch, to ponder the waves of the Harbour, and even to appreciate the plastic grass with faux rubber bits of dirt on the West Lawn.  Location has always been important to me, personally and artistically.  Knowing where you are and where you’ve been, these things are so important to figuring out where exactly you’re going.

Of course, the next step was to respond to this artistically…with the same rules as before, but more freedom in terms of the project, the medium, etc.  I had started embroidering paper earlier, which for whatever reason I found really satisfying and interesting artistically, so I decided to stick with it because it was exciting, though somewhat painstaking.  And for my risk, I chose to alter a book I found in the piles of things, a series of essays about the various ethnic groups of Toronto.  While this particular book didn’t necessarily mean anything to me, books have always been sort of sacred to me, and the idea of “defacing” one was a step outside my comfort zone…

This is my final project, unfinished. All the pencil lines still need to be embroidered—it’s time consuming.

At the end of the day, we had all created these wild, original, beautiful things.  And it was so thrilling to be in such a creative environment (and to be paid to be there!!) with so many brilliant and talented people.  It really got the ball rolling and inspired me…

The rest of the week was pretty amazing, too, and maybe I’ll write more about it at a later date, but this one day really drove home to me the value of having a job you love and an outlet for pent up creativity…

The Puppet.

Meet Puppet Tim.

This is probably the coolest thing I did all summer.  I mean, I also got teenagers to adapt Shakespeare. But no, this is way cooler.

After two months at Theatre Camp, I had to find another home for the final session (because Theatre Camp doesn’t run).  I landed at Creative Arts Camp and made maybe the most awesome sock puppet ever.  He was modeled after my co-counsellor Tim, down to the last detail (ok, except the teeth, I guess)…notice the walkie-talkie for quick communication, the checklist for making sure the campers are all there, the watch to keep it all on time, and, although the picture doesn’t show it, the First Aid kit for when I burn myself with the glue gun.

And the only thing more enjoyable than making the puppet was taking him to talk to the four year olds at the end of the day.  Kids are hilarious. 

But so are puppets.

Here we are on the last day of our very long summer camp season.

Love.

The End of Summer.

It is officially the first day of Fall. 

Which means that summer vacation is really over (and to those of you who say it ended on Labour Day, I say “Shhhhh”).  Now there’s no denying the chill in the air and the changing colours of the leaves.  The season has shifted and it’s time to get back to business.  Or at least blogging.  I mean, let’s not get ahead of ourselves here.

To be honest, I still don’t have my life totally together and organized, but if I don’t jump back on the blogging bandwagon now I’m a little worried that I never will.  Plus, I hate to see The Photographer looking all smug as he continues to post amazing pictures on the blog I made him start while I wander aimlessly around the web.  But life is super busy out in the real world and it’s been keeping me offline.

I had an awesome summer working at Theatre Camp down at Harbourfront Centre and am about to head back to HFC tomorrow to start my School Visits training.  Super exciting.  More details on both past and present HFC affiliations to come…

The other night I had a painting date with my Fringe friends at Praxis Theatre (repayment for free rehearsal space), and there are some fun and interesting things in the works over there.  Aside from Indie Caucus activism.  Which is also fun and interesting.  But no more about that right now, I can’t scoop them.

Hopefully I will have some new theatre friends to work with soon, my resume has certainly crossed a few inboxes in the last two weeks and I had an interview for a really cool project this morning.  So there’s more happening, but it’s too soon for details.

Also, The Photographer and I are moving.  As much fun as two people who are used to existing on separate continents living in one 200 square foot room is, we’ve decided we need more space.  And doors.  And maybe two or three rooms.  So we’re moving sometime in October.  After we finish some light renovations on our new condo—zero to hero.  Stay tuned for pictures.  I might even operate a hammer.

And in case you were wondering what else I did with my summer, I caught a fish.  Which was awesome.  Until I started worrying that maybe having a hook in your lip hurts.  And then fishing wasn’t as awesome. 

Well, good thing it’s fall.

What did you do for your summer vacation?

And the Worst Blogger Ever Award goes to…

Me.

Bad blogger.

I just wanted to take a timeout from the vicious war currently being waged against the fruit flies in my apartment (they’re winning) to apologize for being a bad blogger.  And not just because I haven’t been blogging, because I don’t flatter myself to think anyone has had a personal crisis due to my lack of posting, but because I haven’t been reading any of your blogs either…and I know how much work it takes to keep a blog up and how nice it feels to know someone is actually reading it.  So I just wanted to say sorry.

Oh, and I promise to change my ways.

Hopefully soon.  But realistically, it might be a few weeks.

Working at Harbourfront for the summer has me busier (and way more exhausted) than expected.  And I have lots of fun things to share with everyone, I just haven’t had time to do the blogging world justice.  Oh, and SummerWorks is coming up.  I don’t have a show, but there’s plenty to see.  Which also takes time.

So I hope you’re all having a fantastic summer thus far…if you’re in BC I hope you’re safe from the fires; if you’re in Ottawa I hope you’re dry; and if you’re in Toronto like me, you’re probably just thrilled that the sun is shining and the garbage is getting cleaned up.  And if you're elsewhere, I hope some combination of all of the above for you.

Keep it real. And, much like the Terminator turned Governator, I’ll be back.

Getting over myself: Lesson #672

The Fringe show I’m stage managing is a collective creation project. More on that to come. And while we don’t yet have a full show, we do have a clever little song. And our wonderful director has a vision about how that song should be performed. This vision includes a verse sung from the booth…and the person in the booth would be…me. Right.

Apparently I neglected to mention that singing in public is not in my contract (and I would sooner die).

The lovely assistant director came to my defence, to which the response was: “Oh please, she went to theatre school at NYU, I think she can handle it…”

Touché. Ok, Director, you win this round.

And really, it’s more talking than singing. I think I can handle it, too. But way to foil the plan, silly NYU theatre education, you have officially invalidated any excuse I will ever manage to come up with to not do anything for the rest of my theatrical career/life…geez.

Be gentle, it’s my first time.

The combination of alcohol and a hot tub can make doing just about anything seem like a good idea. No, not that, not what you’re thinking…get your mind out of the gutter! Seriously…So whilst I was relaxing in the wilds of Utah and enjoying a cocktail or two in the bubbles, I agreed to stage manage a Fringe show.

And I have no idea what I’m doing.

(Let’s just say “Spring Break” and leave it at that…)

But I was told that all I needed to do was keep them organized and bring a binder and some paper. I figured I could handle that.

Really, this all came about because I sent an apparently well-timed thank you email with an offer to help out in any way if it was needed. The response: “Straight up. We need a stage manager.” If you’re going to offer your help, you should probably be ready for anything.

And so far so good.

Although now that I’m back and actually doing things, I am a little curious as to what exactly I was thinking when I agreed to this gig (I blame the booze and the bubbles). I have a lot going on for the next few weeks and I’ve just had to accept that some things are falling by the wayside as a result (I’ll try not to let blogging become one of them, but I make no guarantees). Nothing majorly important has been sacrificed, just things I wanted to do and will now not be able to (like helping in the prep for the summer camp that used to be my June-August home). 

Of course, instead of doing those things, I am stage managing. And in addition to just showing up with my binder and paper (or computer, since I believe in technology), I’m getting to use my brain, which sadly does not happen as frequently as I would like.  I’m also getting to hang around with some incredibly intelligent, seriously hilarious, and very talented theatre people. And I get to be part of a very interesting creative process. So while I find this all kind of scary really intimidating, I think it’s also exactly what I need.  This is a fairly large step outside my comfort zone, but it doesn’t feel that uncomfortable. Although I may change my story when tech rolls around. In two weeks.

In short, I’m getting over myself.

Oh, and by the way, I’m also a Fringe virgin…

Flying: A Retrospective on my years of airline travel

Greetings from 30,000 feet. Well, sort of. Because I’m typing it up here but I’m not posting it from here. There will be no more forking over of my dollars for modern conveniences (like checking baggage and food…seriously) on this little aeroplane adventure.  Sigh, I remember the days when they actually fed you for free if you spent more than three hours in the air…even if it was crappy airplane food. Oh, nostalgia. Although, there is one redeeming factor of the long-haul (or long-ish haul) flight that has remained: the in-flight movie. That is, unless the in-flight movie is Race to Witch Mountain. I am all for the family friendly movie and whatnot, but I will not be supporting the film career of Mr. The Rock in any way, shape, or form.  Seriously, Disney, that will be enough. 

And it was Inkheart on the way here. Which I tolerated because I was flying First Class (The Photographer’s Dad is rich in frequent flyer points, thank you very much) and the costumes were pretty cool…Really, who is in charge of choosing these things? I think I need to write a letter.

So I’m on a plane full of crew members (as passengers…I’ve never seen this many of them before…I guess this means there are plenty of people aboard who could land this thing in the event of an emergency…) and Mormon missionaries (I know this because they’re wearing badges that tell me so) with nothing to do.  What an interesting life I lead…

I don’t remember the first time I was on a plane.  I was an infant and my parents took me to Puerto Rico.  Apparently I was well-behaved, but I’m not sure any baby, even a good one, is cute when you’re trapped in a pressurized sardine can with it for several hours.  I did a reasonable amount of travelling as a child, at least one trip a year. I’ve had a pretty privileged existence that way, I’m aware (and grateful).  And I got to see the pilots in the cockpit (clearly, this was all pre-9/11) and I remember Canadian Airlines used to give out colouring books.  In some ways, the getting on a plane part of travelling used to be my favourite. But times have changed.

This whole jet-setting thing is not as glamorous as it may seem.  It’s a lot of packing, waiting in lines, dealing with airport security (which pretty much has carte-blanche to do whatever they want these days, at least in the US…and whether this is to the benefit of our safety is up for debate) or, heaven forbid, Customs, being herded from lines to waiting areas to planes, stuffing bags into already stuffed overhead compartments, jostling for elbow/leg room, spending several hours in less than comfortable seats (and I’m not that big a person, I don’t know how some people manage it…even average sized humans), and finally arriving wherever you’re going basically exhausted.  The stories I could tell…I once flew out of what was basically a giant party tent by the side of a runway. The tickets were dirt cheap. Clearly, the sketch-factor of the experience was reflective of that. Anyway…

I used to fly back and forth fairly regularly between school in New York, my parents’ house in Michigan, The Photographer in Toronto/London, ON, and various other locations abroad.  I spent a large portion of my university life either in an airport or on a plane.  I was basically an expert on the art of air travel.  I had the time it took to get from my apartment in New York to LaGuardia, through security, and onto the plane without spending an extra minute waiting in what I would argue is one of the lousiest airports around down to a science.  And I’m not overly anxious in the air, but I was getting to the point where I just about needed meds to get on a plane.   Something about hurtling through the air in an over-glorified tin can just seems unnatural.So while I miss all the cool places I got to visit, I don’t miss the actual act of travelling.  This is where people get confused. Being somewhere new, interesting, amazing, that’s the glamorous part. Travelling, the getting there part, is not.  The fact that until this trip I hadn’t been on a plane in about a year is thrilling.  Because if you do something frequently enough, it kind of stops being fun.  It becomes a chore, an unpleasant necessity, and you take it for granted.

But I was thinking as we took off over the Great Salt Lake that flying has once again become kind of novel in my world, like it was when I was little, especially on a clear day with a window seat (although my camera is stuffed in the bin overhead, which is really too bad because it was beautiful).  I once again appreciate the wonder of going places.  I’m not so travelled-out as I once was.  And despite the lack of food, the fact that you now have to pay to check even one bag, the ban on doing pretty much anything other than sitting in your seat quietly, and the general lameness of the in-flight movie selections, it’s all kind of worth it to see the world from up here.

We weren’t really meant to fly, or so I gather by our lack of wings, but the view is pretty incredible.

Antelope Island and the Salty Lake

It was a huge bone of contention in my relationship that the last time I was in Utah, The Photographer refused to take me to see the Great Salt Lake. He wasn’t interested and his sister said it smelled bad (which isn’t totally a lie…it’s actually the flood plains that stink…), but I really needed to know if it was salty and, if so, just how salty it was. Well, this time around, I won.

Antelope Island is a state park on the Great Salt Lake. It is home to antelopes (duh.), about 600 buffalo (yum), beaches, a ranch, some campgrounds, hiking trails, and great views. The animals more or less roam freely and the island is open from sun up to sun down for all to explore…

This is a panorama The Photographer stitched together of White Rock Bay. It looks better here. But I didn’t take my camera, and it’s more fun with pictures.

We didn’t really know what to expect heading out there. It was kind of on a whim the day before we left for Moab, because I really, really wanted to see the salty lake. We did a bit of hiking and some wildlife photo stalking…We weren’t really prepared to do any intense hiking and we only had a few hours, so we didn’t get to see everything. But there were antelopes (kind of mangy looking), buffalo, and one very salty body of water.

We walked out a bit into the lake…Apparently its salt content varies by location, but parts of it have up to 25% salinity, which is more than the ocean.  I didn’t really get to test the extra buoyancy, due to lack of swimsuit and the fact that it was about knee deep for a long way out.  I also learned that it has no fish. The largest living organism in Great Salt Lake is brine shrimp, which are tiny.  It’s crazy to think that there is this vast expanse of water with basically nothing in it…

There is also a picture of me tasting the lake water on my finger, but I don’t have it. Let me just say, EW. And speaking of ew…

We had to cross a causeway to get on and off the island. Most of it was over flood plains, not water. But there were a whole lot of sand flies…they sounded like rain hitting the windshield and required one hell of a carwash.

So that’s all from my photo tour of Utah…le sigh. I love vacations. Anyone else have fun photos of their adventures to share?

More from Moab (and The Photographer)

I’m full of photos, so I thought I’d share a few more from Moab. These are all from The Photographer (if you want to know more about him, click that link). Except for the ones he’s in, of course. But I took those on his camera and he more or less set them up, so we’ll give him the credit.

Delicate Arch. This photo should be viewed larger. Check out his blog to do so.

Landscape Arch. The big boulders underneath are from its most recent rock fall, September 1991.

Me in front of Delicate Arch. I think I’m in mid-sentence.

Himself in front of Delicate Arch. Apparently he doesn’t believe in sleeves. Still pretty cute, though.

On the path to Turret Arch…I love the clouds.

Balanced Rock through a fence.

The Photographer on a precipice after a more challenging hike than I perhaps should’ve done in flip-flops. But I’m that hardcore.

I would…

And the money shot. This is my new favourite and the replacement for my old facebook picture, which was from last year’s trip to Utah…

As if I would really hitch-hike…

That’s all from Moab. I have one more for the photo-tour and then I promise to get back to business…

It’s a long way down and a bumpy road…

More from Moab, even though I am technically back in town…my brain is still on vacation.

After our whitewater rafting expedition (I AM HOOKED…that’s all you really need to know), of which there are no pictures online because all we had was a cheap underwater camera and no good action shots because we were paddling, we still had the better part of a day to enjoy Moab. So we decided to go off-roading in the Jeep. The appeal of driving a car over rocks must be a male thing. But I’ll admit that the appeal of not hiking while still seeing cool stuff was enough for me.

There has been a battle between me and The Photographer over giving credit for photos (he likes to steal mine, too!) and whether the photographer or the editor should be getting credit…so let me just say there’s a mix in this entry…we’ll leave it at that.

We found an easy trail, which is actually technically a dirt road for the most part, out to a landmark, Gemini Bridges. The Gemini Bridges are twin bridges formed by arches, much like these ones. They’re fairly large and after you’ve driven to the sort of trailhead, you can hike farther in to see them and you can actually walk over them. Although, you should be careful—all the guidebooks and maps warned to watch for “children and foolish adults” near the edge…There is about a ten-foot gap between them and it’s approximately 100 feet from the top to the bottom of the arches (although The Photographer and I were guessing the bottom of the canyon is probably 200 feet).

So there they are. And you can get on top of them and look down. And if you don’t have a healthy fear of heights, you might develop one. Below is the view of the bottom from the top…it gave me vertigo and I didn’t have the guts to get close enough to the edge. Neither did The Photographer. Actually, it didn’t take us long to decide that we'd like the view from the bottom better…

Now there I am looking up. That hole thing isn’t the bridges. Just a hole.

And below is The Photographer. You have to look pretty closely to find him. This gives you an idea of scale…and what was crazy was that we were totally alone. There were a few people coming in at the top when we were leaving and a few others leaving the canyon as we hiked in, but we pretty much had the place to ourselves. And it was one of those places where you look around and there is no sign of civilization for miles. Literally, not even a power line.

This next one is for my nerds. It’s the Starship Enterprise in natural rock formation. Seriously.

The view through the windshield…

And again…the first part of the road was winding, rocky, and fairly narrow. It also had a wicked drop-off on one side and pretty much no margin for error. I may have gripped the door handle the whole way up.  But it was scenic.

Gooney Bird Rock is the major landmark on the way in. And it does look like a Gooney Bird. Someone did an excellent naming job…

It’s crazy to be alone in silence amongst such enormous natural formations. It sort of makes you consider your place in the world in a different way.

And it’s fun to explore.

Desert Arches, or Sipping on Haterade

This isn’t really theatre related. Except it kind of is. Because everyone needs a vacation. And I’m finally on my vacation now. Which means my blog in on vacation, too. Instead of not writing anything while I take some time off, I thought I’d share parts of my trip (the parts where wireless internet is easily accessible, to be exact).  So, coming at you from the Super 8 in Moab, Utah…

The Photographer and I drove down today from his parents’ house outside Salt Lake City, about four hours…four long, hot hours.  But we made it here…and after I took a wee nap, we checked out Arches National Park. Nothing like a good long hike in the desert to stretch your legs…

I met this lizard on the first part of our hike up to Delicate Arch (3 miles roundtrip, much of it over rock face and all of it without shade…take LOTS of water…LOTS…and Gatorade, aka Haterade, for electrolyte replacements. Seriously, drink…or die. You know, whichever). Anyway, the lizard, we’ll call him Rick, was very patient while I took his photo.

And here is my picture of Delicate Arch. In fact, all of these pictures are mine. Because SOMEONE forgot the USB cable necessary to upload his. Silly, silly boy.  And this makes me sad because there is an awesome picture of me in the middle of the Arch jumping…but you, like me, are going to have to wait.

But here’s proof that he did actually take pictures…check out the mountains in the background. Amazing views…

And here it is from another angle. Pardon the smudges, my camera lens has some scratches. It was amazing how much the shape of things changed just based on where you were in relation. I mean, obviously they change, but it was amazing how much.

These are the windows. North and South, respectively. That boulder between them sticks out really far and you actually can’t see one from the other when you’re up close.

DEAD DESERT TREE! Twisted…

This lovely landmark is called Balanced Rock. Can you figure out why? Apparently what forms all of these things is the erosion of certain layers or types of rock at a greater rate than others. Nature is neat.

Balanced Rock in its surroundings. It’s amazing how much open space there is here in particular and in Utah in general. For a city girl, it’s an interesting change to look around and see nothing for miles but rocks and trees and whatnot. I like it. But let’s be clear, I would straight up lose my mind living out in the wilderness…

And finally…

The only picture of me on my camera. I look a bit, um, wonky? It is, after all, a shadow. So it’s a picture of me taking a picture of my shadow while The Photographer takes a picture of me taking a picture of my shadow. NOT NERDY AT ALL.

So the vacation is lots of fun so far. And this is the first time I’ve been to the desert. It isn’t quite how I expected, but Moab is pretty awesome. On the agenda for tomorrow: river rafting. Apparently we won’t see too much white water on the trip we’re doing. But we did decide not to be princesses and to opt for the boat that will require us to paddle. Sadly there will be no pictures for the blog because digital cameras and water really do not mix.

I hope all of you at home in internet-land are well and having fun. And while I’m enjoying exploring new places here, what is your favourite place to visit? Or where would you like to go?

I have a list as long as my arm…

My first encounter with a previously unknown blog reader.

Thursday night was…funny. It’s a good thing I can laugh at myself, otherwise this whole “being an actor” thing would probably make me cry. Frequently. How very Strasberg that would be…(and I can say that, I bawled my eyes out studied there for long enough…)

I went to my 10:30 PM audition and I really think that the best thing you can possibly do at 10:30 PM in front of people who have been watching countless auditions all day is be fun (well, and good, obviously). It’s called “play,” after all. And fun I am. And fun they were. But my favourite moment was our discussion of my resume (and seeing all my Shakespeare credits highlighted, methinks I probably need to start branching out…) and my latest production, the Twelfth Night…

One of my Twelfth Night castmates had auditioned earlier in the day and told the panel all about the production: the who, what, when, where, and how…but apparently one of them hadn’t been present for this. So Lovely Lady 1 told me to tell Lovely Lady 2 about the show…

Simple enough. I start giving my version of the who, what, when, where, and how, and all of a sudden Lovely Lady 2 gets this look of recognition on her face and blurts out, “OH, YOU’RE A BLOGGER!”

My reaction to this was half laugh, half cringe, a big  wow-someone-is-actually-reading-this (other than Sterling, HI STERLING!) and, “Yes, yes I am…”

So Lovely Lady 1 asks 2 how she knew that. Obviously, because I blogged about playing Maria in Twelfth Night. Which of course made me think about some of the things I blogged about Twelfth Night. And whether or not I should have blogged them…Fortunately, both Lovely Ladies were quite wonderful and fun and therefore this did not become the big awkward fest it might’ve been…

But it did all make me think on my long walk home about what I’m doing here on the interwebs. It’s inevitable that if I keep writing about these things and keep auditioning that I’m going to get “bloganized” (which is “blog” + “recognized” in case you didn’t catch it. Thanks for that, @magicalmudge) now and then. And I’m okay with that. I have a policy about not saying things behind people’s backs that I wouldn’t say to their faces. And obviously The Starving Artist here is only half the story—my half. As is any blog, really…so take it with a grain of salt…

I guess what I’m trying to say is that I started this blog because I was frustrated with what I perceived to be a lack of blogs/real stories about actors just starting out. Especially locally. I wanted to share my journey in the hopes that it might teach other people something and that they, in turn, might teach me something by sharing their stories. So far it’s going reasonably well. Plus, let’s face it, this is cheaper than therapy!

But if my mission is our mutual education (and it is) I think I have a responsibility to my readers (and seriously, if you’re reading, leave me a comment so I can properly say hello, please) and to myself to be as honest about my life as a theatre artist as possible. Because not being honest about the situation is not helpful to any of us. Honesty is educational. And, well, my candour just makes it more fun. But I do promise to do it all in the most fair and respectful way possible because, really, it is only my side of the story and I’m certainly not here to make anyone look and/or feel bad.

In the end, it was a nice audition night. And hopefully it will result in another show, but whether or not it does, it was nice to be reminded (as I frequently am these days) that there are all kinds of great people out there in the Toronto theatre community. And it was also nice to feel just a little more sure of myself, both in the virtual world and in the real one…

Muskoka, film, and making my own work…

The view from my dock on Muldrew Lake.

Today I had lunch with a friend who makes films. Because we’ve been saying, “Hey, we should do something…” for at least two years now and that “something” has yet to materialize. We just haven’t both been in the right place at the right time. Until now.

We’re both feeling a bit artistically stagnant at the moment and are in need of something to keep us moving, working, and inspired. He’s got a camera, I act and I have actor friends. Get where I’m going with this?

There is “something” in the works, a little no-budget collaborative project we can both learn something from. We’re hoping for funny and character-driven. And we’re going about it in a different kind of way. My last show really drove home the importance and value of cast bonding, collaboration, and using everyone’s various talents to their fullest. As such, we’re planning to take ourselves and anyone else who cares to participate up to my lovely cottage for a few days. And we’re going to burn things, brainstorm, swim, get creative, drink beer, and film. Hopefully we’ll come up with something cool. And at the very least, we’re bound to have fun. If you’re a Toronto-based actor and you want to play, too, leave a comment. Seriously.

I’ve also contacted my sister, The Writer, to see if she can come up with some ideas for us. Because she’s hilarious. And she has a blog now. Someday she’s going to write a book like Running With Scissors and embarrass our whole dysfunctional family. But without a doubt it will be highly entertaining. And maybe I can play myself when it gets turned into a movie.

So that’s just one project currently underway (there’s a theatre one with my new Best Friend that I refuse to talk about for fear of jinxing it). Good to know that several months later I am finally taking the advice of that smart guy at Praxis and creating my own work. I have to say, this feels good.

 I did this on my dock one night with a flashlight and a long exposure. I think it’s kind of awesome.

Social awkwardness: I think the internet has robbed me of the ability to function face to face…

Sunday I auditioned. Before noon. For and with a really smart, cool group of individuals. Who know where to find this blog (hi) so I’m not going to talk too much about it, especially since what I’m interested in talking about really has nothing to do with the actual audition. In a nutshell, I managed not to psych myself out, to be present, to participate creatively, and even to have fun. I like them and I really want to know all of them. But I walked away completely frustrated. With myself.

After much thought and a careful cataloguing of all my symptoms, I have diagnosed myself with a serious and persistent case of shrinking violet-itis. And it certainly reared its ugly head at this audition. Which is completely ridiculous and, well, frustrating. Also, it’s completely by my own invention. I’ve discovered a whole new form of self-sabotage for myself.

Basically, what happens to me (and this audition isn’t the only time it’s happened, just the most recent occurrence) is that I come into a group of people where I don’t really know anyone, I only know them well enough to know I want to know them better, if that makes sense... anyway, they’re people I admire or respect or am maybe just a little bit in awe of…and I freeze up. Because I don’t know what to say or how to start a conversation or whatever. I get all shy and reserved and awkward. Which makes me freeze up even more because I’ve never been shy or reserved or awkward (socially speaking…there are many other kinds of awkward that I am an expert in) in my life and I don’t know how to handle it. Because it isn’t me. Except that apparently lately it is. I feel like I’ve completely lost my ability to articulate anything when I’m talking to people, which is so foreign to me that I don’t know what to do with it. Or how to fix it.

As a sidenote, my mom loves to tell the story of when I started French Immersion in SK. Apparently I was sick for a year. I say apparently because I was five and don’t remember. It’s all hearsay. Her theory on this is that I was so traumatized by suddenly having been robbed of my ability to communicate…because everyone was speaking a different language…that I made myself ill. This feels like an encore to that. Only minus the getting sick part. So far. Back to my point…

Eventually I end up frustrated because this stiff, unnatural version of myself that I become in these situations isn’t me. I don’t recognize myself and I would bet that no one I know outside of these moments would either. It isn’t an accurate representation of who I am as a person, or as an actress, in the case of this audition. So it’s sort of an acting problem, but I’m more bothered by it as a personal problem. It isn’t conducive to making new theatre friends. And it’s frustrating. And there is nothing more frustrating than being frustrated. Which is where I’ve been festering for the last several days.

An acting teacher once told me that “frustration is just anger without energy.” He was trying to demonstrate that playing frustration is impossible/not a strong choice. I think it’s a wonderful example of how acting lessons can cross over into real life. If you’ve ever been frustrated by something, you probably get what I’m saying. So my frustration needs some energy. Which is what I’ve been giving it for the last few days by not blaming all my issues on lack of sleep and having to be up and functional before noon on a Sunday (although I’m sure those are contributing factors to the awkward). And now I’m officially mad at myself for being so ridiculous. And in such an un-fun way. Hopefully the anger will propel me toward the solution…I’ll let you know.

Forecast: Anxiety with a strong chance of scattered ridiculous antics

I have two auditions next week.  Both of them are really f&%^ing awesome.  And I’m actually excited.  As opposed to nauseous.  Which would’ve been my feeling two or three months ago.  I think we’ll call that progress.

I’m not spilling any details right now.  But there are three possible outcomes:

1) Nothing. Other than that I go to two more auditions. But this is a boring outcome. So let’s ignore it.

2) I’ll be in another play! Or maybe two!! Let’s keep our fingers crossed…

3) I’ll do something ridiculous and either embarrass myself or just provide you all with yet another example of what not to do.  In which case we’ll all learn something and have a good laugh.

I suppose there’s a possibility that both 2 and 3 could happen in concert…which would leave us with the most potential for fun and stories and learning, wouldn’t it?  Well, rest assured, I’ll keep you posted.

Which books lift you up?

As promised for the WTD photo challenge, here is my standing on books picture, based on what I have available at the moment (the majority of my collection is at my parents' house in Michigan). It sort of felt like taking a class picture...I also included my own journal on the side. Because I heart it. Notably absent are:

Shakespeare First Folio (too heavy to travel well)

Angels in America (because I keep lending it out and people keep stealing it!!)

The Empty Space (just MIA, apparently)

It was fun and easy! Have you stood on books yet?

I heart chocolate.

Today is my birthday. This means one very important thing: I get CAKE!! And cake never fails to make me happy. Especially when it's chocolate. But I don't have a picture of today's cake, because I haven't seen it yet. So I thought I would share this picture instead. It's even theatre-related. Last year I started rehearsal for a play on my birthday, a play in which many chocolates were eaten. This picture was taken while the producer and director were attempting to get publicity shots. You will probably never see my face on a poster.

Today, all the world's a stage. But then again, isn't that true everyday?

I've been thinking all week about what I could contribute to World Theatre Day and, the truth is, I haven't come up with much. At least, not on a large scale. I have my little blog here with which to share my theatrical thoughts and artistic ideas with all of you, but I haven't much of a theatre home out in the real world at this point. So other than going to play rehearsal tonight, which I would have to do regardless, what am I to do?

I've been on Twitter all week reading the tweets about everything being planned in Ottawa and Vancouver and Chicago (which I can't even link to because I can hardly keep track), but there's been no real response here in Toronto (at least, not that I've heard about). The exception to that is The Canadian Stage Company. They're offering 2-for-1 admission to their current production of Shirley Valentine if you bring in a receipt or ticket from any other cultural or arts organization you've visited recently. But that's it. And I have to say, I'm disappointed.
Now, I can't really complain too much because I'm here and I haven't organized anything either. But my real disappointment is more about the general lack of enthusiasm. Do we just feel like we're too cool for WTD? What's our beef?

J. Kelly Nestruck, theatre critic for The Globe and Mail, had this to say on The Guardian's Theatre Blog today: "Try as I might, I can't get excited about this depressing little event. Its existence implies that theatre is in crisis." To paraphrase the rest, he goes on to discuss how the whole event is sort of vague and silly and how, ultimately, the theatre is not dying. This being the case, World Theatre Day is kind of ridiculous and unnecessary because, after all, "we only organise capital-D Days for things that we fear are in peril. (See also: Earth Day.)" He's right, in many respects, and his arguments are definitely worth considering. But he's also wrong.

I disagree with the idea that assigning something a capital "D" is equivalent to announcing its terminal diagnosis. Yes, we have Days for causes and for the things we feel are threatened. But we also have Mother's Day, Valentine's Day, New Year's Day, St. Patrick's Day, etc., etc., etc. And, for the record, the first Earth Day was April 22, 1970, which was long before we really realized the threat to our planet and certainly before being green was in style. Certainly some of these days are silly and celebrate things we should do every day (you know, be good to our mothers, celebrate love, drink green beer), but they exist and they are meant to be celebrations. I think World Theatre Day should be embraced in the same spirit. It is a bit vague, that's true, but I don't think that's a negative. Rather it is an opportunity for creativity. Which is a fundamental element of theatre. WTD is just an excuse for creative celebration.

Of course, Nestruck points out that we celebrate theatre every time we put on a play. Furthermore, "We don't need to celebrate theatre; theatre is celebration." And this is true, but what each piece of theatre or each theatre artist celebrates is different from moment to moment. While one show celebrates the complexities of human relationships, another highlights the importance of ritual and tradition; while one artist embraces the darker depths of the human psyche, another simply shares a love of laughter. So here is where World Theatre Day is specific, even if it hasn't meant to be so. It's World Theatre Day. Today is an opportunity to celebrate our global theatrical community. It is a chance to connect all across this planet and to recognize that, while theatre may mean different things in different places, it exists everywhere, whether we see it or not. It is both on stages and on sidewalks, in living rooms and in coffee shops, it's everywhere. Today is about connecting everyone who is a part of this wonderful art and remembering that we do all share a common goal, which is that very celebration of which Mr. Nestruck speaks. Today is a celebration of the celebration.