So, Thursday night was another rehearsal. We helped the kids get into makeup and basically everything went fine. In fact, most all the performances were uneventful. The only thing maybe that was unusual was my broken toe hurting, which made things a little more difficult, but otherwise, fine.
Things were okay in Tromso. I felt kind of strange, though, because it seemed like the beginning of the project was only yesterday and suddenly is was a month and a half later, and what had happened?
Time seemed to have stopped, or been non-existant for the past several weeks. It was a little upsetting, although I'm not sure why. But over-all things were good.
On Friday, we had some time between the morning rehearsal and the evening performance, so Seth, Sina, and I went walking up the street to the Perspektives Museum. It is a museum dedicated to documentary photgraphy and exhibitions about the lives of minorities in Norway. The two in the exhibit at the time were an exhibit about the Sami people and their nomadic reindeer breeding and Russian trawler fishermen. A hundred years ago, there were strong, friendly ties between the Russian fishermen and the Norwegian town of Tromso, but now there is a prejudice against the Russians and the museum is trying to help people understand both sides of the story. It was one of the best types of exhibitions I've seen. Because, it didn't try to be, "We are so awful for judging them because they are really great!", they simply put the facts forward, and let people make their own conclusions.
Like Dostoyevsky said, "the novelist should only be a presenter of facts and the reader can draw his own meaning." or something to that effect. I forget the exact quote.
And so, it was pleasant and thought-provoking, and not overly sentimental, although it did have a vein of humanity running through it. But humanity is different from sentimentality anyway.
But, moving on.
Before we went to the musem, we were walking along the street, and passed in front of a yarn shop. There was a bassinet with a baby crying softly from inside. There was a purse hanging from the handle, but no mother was in sight.
We paused.
Well, we couldn't leave a crying baby sitting there all by itself. There was a kind looking man standing near by who watched us intently. I figure he must have been there first. I discovered he was waiting for his wife, but stayed outside to look after the mysterious baby. Sina rocked the buggy and the baby stopped crying instantly.
We stood there for 10 minutes, waiting for someone to show up.
Eventually we became slightly more alarmed than originally and determined to find out where the mother was. She was inside, and I guess had lost track of time, or something. But anyway, so, she was very thankful and apologetic, but at the same time insisted on leaving it there until she had paid because it was too much trouble to take it inside the shop. So, we waited for her to pay and then went on our merry way.
It felt a little weird that the mother was not in the slightest bit remorseful or frightened that there were three strange kids looking after her baby while she was inside. It was almost as if she expected it. This worried me a bit but not for too long. I suppose we were supposed to be there, in a way, to look after the baby. Who knows.
The production makeup included the use of UV light reflecting makeup. Seth had bright orange and blue reflective makeup up from the rehearsal, which he hastily removed, so there were still traces of blue and orange on his skin. It looked slightly like a large bruise. As we were standing in the street, a woman passed by and exclaimed to Seth, "Your face!"
"Yes, I know. It's only makeup."
She gave him a slanted look and walked away.
Then, on the way back to the theatre, a German couple asked us some information of the bus system. But we had no idea how it actually worked.
That night we had the first performance in Tromso, and it went well. After the performance, we went to "Lotus", the Chinese/Japanese restaurant. They had fried lamb, which I thought was a little unusal, so I tried it. It was tasty, however unusual. Otherwise, the evening was uneventful. I excused myself early, not wanting to celebrate too much. Stein came to that performance and said hello to us at lunch.
He seemed to be pleased with the performance in Tromso and liked the 1m wall extensions for the set. He had never seen them in Narvik because the stage was so much smaller.
Friday night we missed one of the sound effects we were supposed to produce. This made the conductor very annoyed. Which is understandable. The choreographer was also dissatisfied with the mouse-trap, and so requested very abruptly and rudely (I thought at the time) that it be moved. I told her I wasn't sure if it were possible, but I would check, which she thought, I suppose, that I was trying to make an excuse not to do anything. So she proceded to explain to me that it had to be moved because it looked bad where it was. She knew that the trap was unpredictable and squirrely.
This, for some reason, upset me. And I got quite angry at her, which I'm not very proud of. I tried really hard not to show it, but I think I did accidentally all the same. I told her we would move it if it were possible. I think my anger was not in proportion to what she was asking. I mean, I didn't really have a reason to be angry, but I was all the same. It took a little to cool down. But I got over it pretty quickly.
Although, that along with missing the sound effect, I was pretty thoroughly disappointed in myself for being so unprofessional and had bad dreams of being disappointing to everyone I looked up to (Mom, Dad, Pavel, Stein, Dean, Elin, etc.).
This made me a little anxious on Saturday, so, after the matinee, and after lunch, since my foot was feeling better, I went for a walk around Tromso. I was surprised by some of the ruins there were among and between nicer houses. It was a strange mix of nice modern architecture for the library and Kulturhus and some of the shopping centers, with the older buildings, then the totally decrepid and nearly squalid buildings. I guess it was the non-uniformity which was unusual: most of my experience of Norway up to that point being more uniform, or at least less choppy in so short a space.
But it added to it's interestingness. If that's a word. I don't know.
Tromso was interesting.
I went shopping and bought some ice-cream, walked around, then went back to the theatre for the final performance, packing the set, and saying good-bye.
Everything went perfectly. Although, I don't really like saying good-bye.
I shared some Sake with Liv-Kari, Nils, Sina, and Seth. I had lamb again. But lamb-chops this time with the best fried potatoes I have ever had in my whole life. THEY WERE SO GOOD. Maybe they were fried in goose fat, I don't know. "They say" that goose fat is the best thing to fry food in. But, I don't really know because I've never had it. But it would be hard to believe--if those potatoes weren't fried in goose fat--that goose fat could taste much better.
But, I said good-bye to all that were left at the restaurant and went to the hotel. I felt a little melancholy for it all. But happy all the same, and not sad. Just, I knew I was going to miss them, and we had spent so much time together. But I was also very excited to leave and see things on my own again.
The next day, Palm Sunday, Seth and I awoke early and got a taxi to the airport. We got there way too early. But that was okay. We couldn't do much else, anyway. It was snowing and cold. We got on the plane and I instantly fell asleep. Then I woke up for breakfast, and fell asleep again.
The flight was nice.
We got into Oslo and it was bright, sunny, and about 18C. Seth and I went to the National Gallery while we waited to check into the Anker Hostel. I thought I would be staying in another hotel since there was a sign that said, "SORRY NO VACANCY" on the front desk. We inquired about other hostels or hotels in the area,
"Oh! Sorry! That's an old sign from yesterday. You can stay here."
I am so lucky.
At the National Gallery, we saw Flannish Baroque paintings of Jordaens, Ruebens, and Van Dyke. It was very impressive, although seeing people in such ridiculous and overly-romanticised fashion is a little weird. Of course, in 500 years from now, the kids will think we look ridiculous, too.
Anyway, it was still a good exhibit. I was a little sad that the permanent exhibit of Munch was closed, though. Oh well.
I will finish this later.
Enrico just showed up. So I'll probably finish this in England. I'm flying there tonight.
Tuesday, April 19, 2011
A chronilogical ... wait, logical?
Okay, so since I haven't written in so many days, and I am actually quite far behind in relating the events of the last 11 days, I have to start in a chronilogical manner in order not to lose everyone who reads this (a.k.a. 8 people).
So, let's see. The alst time I wrote, I was in Frerikstad because of the free cake episode.
So, I either wrote that on Friday, and so I will start with Saturday.
Saturday, Seth and I went to Oslo. First we ate a kebab. The first kebab Seth had ever had. It was delicious. Then I got us lost in Ring 2 of Oslo when we were trying to find the Munch Museum. We eventually found it. Seth was so excited, he could hardly stand the awesomeness of all the Munch. I had seen the museum before, so I went to see one of the films, "The Dance of Life", which is one of his paintings. I'll have to write a separate entry about what I think of Munch. I know I did originally back in March. But the film gave me a different understanding of Munch. Why is it that all artists contemplate suicide? I mean, what's the advantage of being slightly, or even measurably mentally unstable to an "artist"? It's a weird occurence that most of the more/most talented artists seem to feel emotions in the extremes. But, anyway... More on this later, maybe.
At 6pm, we went to the National Theatre in Oslo and saw Othello with some people from the Norwegian Theatre Academy. It was in Norwegian, so I really didn't understand what they were saying, although I know the story. So, since I couldn't really enjoy the words, I paid especially close attention to the stage, the blocking, lights, etc.
I was surprised how little action happened on stage. Everything was completely subdued. There was hardly a violent moment in so turbulent a play. However, it gave one the sense of impending doom for two hours, which is difficult to acheive, I think. The set was very abstract, and totally black. The large black pieces moved over the stage almost imperceptibly slowly, which created a lot of tension. I kept expecting it to descend fully onto the stage, but it didn't. It just hovered ominously. The actual stage had a long ramp from front to back which was used as stage entrances. When the actors crossed over the peak of the stage, they were in the "scene". They also used the characters to commentate on what was going on, by having them exit in a horizontal fashion at the back of the stage with lights. The lights were interesting. It was hard to tell if the eyes were adjusting to the lights, or if the lights changed. But they went from colored to white. I learned in lighting class that the eyes will turn colored light white if they look at it for longer than 20 minutes. It was a little painful to look out for long. And gave me a sort of dizziness, like that of a 3D movie. The only white thing on stage (besides the lights) was the handkerchief. Everyone was dressed in black material of different textures, but it was all black. And even though the lights were white, they did not reflect so, but only served to highlight the contrast between the black abyss and the black set pieces, and just show how utterly black everything was.
The acting was very traditional in the sense that the play was acted as if it were meant to be be heard, not seen. There was little action, and a great portion of the play was spent with the actors playing full front to the audience. The actors were arranged in different patterns on the stage, but were not active in the sense of their moving around much. They came, they stood, they said their lines, they left. Once again, the stagnation and subtelty was a little unnerving. Even the smothering scene was simply Othello embracing Desdemona and suffocating her in his shoulder. She didn't struggle much. It took me a few hours to wind down after the show. Another interesting thing was the fact that the only different between Othello and the others is that he had a beard, although they still referred to him as a "moor".
So, after the show, Seth and I marveled in the wonderful weather and twilight sky ("It's still light outside!")for a little while then got on the bus/train back to Fredrikstad. We arrived and walked back to the city centre. A couple of drunk guys were shouting at people and asked if we were Swedish.
We played on a small play ground and I was racing Seth to the "Cactus" restaurant cafe, when I tripped and broke my pinky toe. It hurt, but not quite as bad as I was expecting. At first I thought I had just stubbed it very hard, but when the pain didn't subside after an hour, but instead got worse, I suspected it broke. And it did. It was more funny than anything. Especially since every time I feel impulsive or get a surge of happiness, I end up breaking SOMETHING. Haha, but in any case. We went to the Cactus Restaurant/Bar/Cafe for some late-night sweet thing. I got a pistachio milkshake, which was VERY delicious. Seth got a mocha milkshake which was also very good. We went home.
Sunday we didn't do much all day. I cooked some great eggplant dipped in egg and fried in Olive Oil. YUM. With a little cheese and yogurt on top, it was almost perfection. If I had some garlic and some tatziki sauce, that's the only thing that could make it better.
It's a recipe to save for the future...
In the afternoon, we went the Academy and worked on our sets a little.
Monday, Trond, the opera singer/photographer took us to our new lodgings in the Old town of Fredrikstad. He showed us around the castle and the town. He is from one of the Islands nearby and had his first singing job in the old town. He told us what a good Summer that was. He is such a sweet man. But, he had an alterior motive for showing us everything. The weather was so nice, he was looking for an excuse not to work... but so were we. So we played hookie together, all three and avoided work for the afternoon. He took us to "Mormor" (mother of the mother: Grandmother's) Cafe, which apparently is the best cafe in Fredrikstad. The food was very good. And doubtless the coffee was, too. But I wasn't paying attention and put salt into my coffee instead of sugar (doh...). While we were sitting there, Seth suddenly recognized a friend of his. He sat and debated whether he should say hello or not? He wasn't completely sure it was Mira... maybe it was someone else?
Finally, he decided to run after her. They met again, and set up a rendezvous in Oslo for the next week. Life is pretty incredible like that.
So, eventually, we decided that maybe we should get to work. So, we caught the ferry back to the main-land Fredrikstad. We worked some more on our models... ho-hum. Details, details, details. It was interesting to solve problems while I was building the model, but building the model was time-consuming and a little tedious.
So, Monday night, I sent off some mail and had a nice chat with the Post/Nessaren (convenience store)/ Slot machine/cafe person. She was a little shy at first, but started talking after a little bit. I was there for a while because the post machine was very slow. So, we had to wait. I wasn't in a hurry, and rather was enjoying myself. It was raining, too, so I wasn't exactly in a hurry to go back out in the cold mist.
Tuesday morning, I completed operation Salvation Army, which was fun. It was only taking some clothes to the drop-off station down the street from the Motel/camp/hostel we were now staying. But I still enjoyed it immensely. I'm not sure why.
Anyway, Tuesday, we finished our models (Seth and I only, because we were leaving early), and presented them to the class. Seth made an animation with the features of his set (moving walls). I merely presented the set with my ideas and then later lit it with the facilities they had (a miniature black box lighting system, basically).
We said good-bye. The scenographer teacher said, "Ah, Hannah, you and your spree!"
I'm not exactly sure what this means. But it was funny and nice.
Wednesday morning we woke up very early to catch the ferry, to catch a bus, to catch the plane, to catch another bus to get to Tromso. We arrived around noon. I had a quick shower, then we went to the theatre, discovered there wasn't much to do, so we had lunch. Then we worked and had rehearsal until 7pm. We had dinner, went to the hotel and crashed.
Thursday, work started at 10am to focus the lights, but we were done by one. So, we ate lunch and then I went to the art museum near the hotel. It was a modern art museum. There were two Munchs there, several rooms of traditional Norwegian painters and themes, some modern ones. On the top floor, there was a new exhibit from 2011. It wasn't very interesting. It was pornographic and was just the kind of art I despise. Mainly because it was sickeningly seeped in it's own magnificence or irony, or concept, or whatever other "idea" the artist was trying to convey. Maybe I'm being too harsh. But I feel, if an artist is trying to comment on something so cliche and over-done as phallic symbols, he should at least try to incorporate some sort of new idea into the mix. As it was, it was basically the same exhibit I have seen repeatedly. It was well-done, technically. Although, to me, it was not art. It was just an elaborate, self-absorbed doodle.
This is what gets me most about "modern art". Not all of it, mind, because there's plenty of modern art I admire.
But one thing I particularly don't understand is why they take such simple themes and either 1) try to make some great big deal out of it
2) obscure the original idea by simplisitic representation and poor reasoning.
There was a quote from Calvin and Hobbes that once said, "The purpose to writing is to inflate weak ideas, obscure poor reasoning, and inhibit clarity. With a little practice, writing can be an intimidating and impenetrable fog!"
'Writing', I feel can be substituted with 'modern art', and the explanation is just as accurate. I don't mind a little mystery every now and then with art, but when poor ideas are justified with poor reasoning, it annoys me that anyone could satisfactorily prescribe their name to the work.
Maybe this is really harsh. And I realize that artists and museums exhibit these things with the knowledge they are showing something publicly, and therefore, others are to react publicly. So, I don't feel so bad. And it's not for an offended sense of dignitiy that I write these things. When an entire room in a museum is filled with poor quality digital prints of a man in a storm-trooper helmet, holding a blue "light saber", exposing his genitalia, I suppose all one can do is laugh at how absurd it is. But the joke is old. So old. And just because it's being exhibited in a museum doesn't make it a smart commentary on anything. It just makes a bad joke...
But, on the flip side, art like that does have it's good points as it sets a marker for what is popular in the art world. And, of course, there is always a reaction against any type of art. So, this art will have a reaction, and maybe from that reaction will come something entirely the opposite. Not out of spite for the other art, but just to expose that it's not the only thing. And it's not. Something is already happening, I'm sure, we just don't see it, yet.
I just find it slightly depressing they couldn't find anything better to exhibit at this paticular museum. But it was free and there were many other more worthy paintings.
One that I found amusing was a small painting of a few men in a dinghy fighting off several ravenous polar bears. But my favorite was this painting of a preacher talking to some Sami people. He was warm, and obviously wealthy and well-fed, while they were trudging through the snow trying to survive. Their facial expressions were terrific. They distrusted him completely, and yet were suffering his presence with a sort of contempt. I liked it too, because much of it was white and grey, but it was still interesting.
Anyway, I must pause here and finish the next post with another leg of rambling. I will continue the next post with more on Tromso and the end of the production.
So, let's see. The alst time I wrote, I was in Frerikstad because of the free cake episode.
So, I either wrote that on Friday, and so I will start with Saturday.
Saturday, Seth and I went to Oslo. First we ate a kebab. The first kebab Seth had ever had. It was delicious. Then I got us lost in Ring 2 of Oslo when we were trying to find the Munch Museum. We eventually found it. Seth was so excited, he could hardly stand the awesomeness of all the Munch. I had seen the museum before, so I went to see one of the films, "The Dance of Life", which is one of his paintings. I'll have to write a separate entry about what I think of Munch. I know I did originally back in March. But the film gave me a different understanding of Munch. Why is it that all artists contemplate suicide? I mean, what's the advantage of being slightly, or even measurably mentally unstable to an "artist"? It's a weird occurence that most of the more/most talented artists seem to feel emotions in the extremes. But, anyway... More on this later, maybe.
At 6pm, we went to the National Theatre in Oslo and saw Othello with some people from the Norwegian Theatre Academy. It was in Norwegian, so I really didn't understand what they were saying, although I know the story. So, since I couldn't really enjoy the words, I paid especially close attention to the stage, the blocking, lights, etc.
I was surprised how little action happened on stage. Everything was completely subdued. There was hardly a violent moment in so turbulent a play. However, it gave one the sense of impending doom for two hours, which is difficult to acheive, I think. The set was very abstract, and totally black. The large black pieces moved over the stage almost imperceptibly slowly, which created a lot of tension. I kept expecting it to descend fully onto the stage, but it didn't. It just hovered ominously. The actual stage had a long ramp from front to back which was used as stage entrances. When the actors crossed over the peak of the stage, they were in the "scene". They also used the characters to commentate on what was going on, by having them exit in a horizontal fashion at the back of the stage with lights. The lights were interesting. It was hard to tell if the eyes were adjusting to the lights, or if the lights changed. But they went from colored to white. I learned in lighting class that the eyes will turn colored light white if they look at it for longer than 20 minutes. It was a little painful to look out for long. And gave me a sort of dizziness, like that of a 3D movie. The only white thing on stage (besides the lights) was the handkerchief. Everyone was dressed in black material of different textures, but it was all black. And even though the lights were white, they did not reflect so, but only served to highlight the contrast between the black abyss and the black set pieces, and just show how utterly black everything was.
The acting was very traditional in the sense that the play was acted as if it were meant to be be heard, not seen. There was little action, and a great portion of the play was spent with the actors playing full front to the audience. The actors were arranged in different patterns on the stage, but were not active in the sense of their moving around much. They came, they stood, they said their lines, they left. Once again, the stagnation and subtelty was a little unnerving. Even the smothering scene was simply Othello embracing Desdemona and suffocating her in his shoulder. She didn't struggle much. It took me a few hours to wind down after the show. Another interesting thing was the fact that the only different between Othello and the others is that he had a beard, although they still referred to him as a "moor".
So, after the show, Seth and I marveled in the wonderful weather and twilight sky ("It's still light outside!")for a little while then got on the bus/train back to Fredrikstad. We arrived and walked back to the city centre. A couple of drunk guys were shouting at people and asked if we were Swedish.
We played on a small play ground and I was racing Seth to the "Cactus" restaurant cafe, when I tripped and broke my pinky toe. It hurt, but not quite as bad as I was expecting. At first I thought I had just stubbed it very hard, but when the pain didn't subside after an hour, but instead got worse, I suspected it broke. And it did. It was more funny than anything. Especially since every time I feel impulsive or get a surge of happiness, I end up breaking SOMETHING. Haha, but in any case. We went to the Cactus Restaurant/Bar/Cafe for some late-night sweet thing. I got a pistachio milkshake, which was VERY delicious. Seth got a mocha milkshake which was also very good. We went home.
Sunday we didn't do much all day. I cooked some great eggplant dipped in egg and fried in Olive Oil. YUM. With a little cheese and yogurt on top, it was almost perfection. If I had some garlic and some tatziki sauce, that's the only thing that could make it better.
It's a recipe to save for the future...
In the afternoon, we went the Academy and worked on our sets a little.
Monday, Trond, the opera singer/photographer took us to our new lodgings in the Old town of Fredrikstad. He showed us around the castle and the town. He is from one of the Islands nearby and had his first singing job in the old town. He told us what a good Summer that was. He is such a sweet man. But, he had an alterior motive for showing us everything. The weather was so nice, he was looking for an excuse not to work... but so were we. So we played hookie together, all three and avoided work for the afternoon. He took us to "Mormor" (mother of the mother: Grandmother's) Cafe, which apparently is the best cafe in Fredrikstad. The food was very good. And doubtless the coffee was, too. But I wasn't paying attention and put salt into my coffee instead of sugar (doh...). While we were sitting there, Seth suddenly recognized a friend of his. He sat and debated whether he should say hello or not? He wasn't completely sure it was Mira... maybe it was someone else?
Finally, he decided to run after her. They met again, and set up a rendezvous in Oslo for the next week. Life is pretty incredible like that.
So, eventually, we decided that maybe we should get to work. So, we caught the ferry back to the main-land Fredrikstad. We worked some more on our models... ho-hum. Details, details, details. It was interesting to solve problems while I was building the model, but building the model was time-consuming and a little tedious.
So, Monday night, I sent off some mail and had a nice chat with the Post/Nessaren (convenience store)/ Slot machine/cafe person. She was a little shy at first, but started talking after a little bit. I was there for a while because the post machine was very slow. So, we had to wait. I wasn't in a hurry, and rather was enjoying myself. It was raining, too, so I wasn't exactly in a hurry to go back out in the cold mist.
Tuesday morning, I completed operation Salvation Army, which was fun. It was only taking some clothes to the drop-off station down the street from the Motel/camp/hostel we were now staying. But I still enjoyed it immensely. I'm not sure why.
Anyway, Tuesday, we finished our models (Seth and I only, because we were leaving early), and presented them to the class. Seth made an animation with the features of his set (moving walls). I merely presented the set with my ideas and then later lit it with the facilities they had (a miniature black box lighting system, basically).
We said good-bye. The scenographer teacher said, "Ah, Hannah, you and your spree!"
I'm not exactly sure what this means. But it was funny and nice.
Wednesday morning we woke up very early to catch the ferry, to catch a bus, to catch the plane, to catch another bus to get to Tromso. We arrived around noon. I had a quick shower, then we went to the theatre, discovered there wasn't much to do, so we had lunch. Then we worked and had rehearsal until 7pm. We had dinner, went to the hotel and crashed.
Thursday, work started at 10am to focus the lights, but we were done by one. So, we ate lunch and then I went to the art museum near the hotel. It was a modern art museum. There were two Munchs there, several rooms of traditional Norwegian painters and themes, some modern ones. On the top floor, there was a new exhibit from 2011. It wasn't very interesting. It was pornographic and was just the kind of art I despise. Mainly because it was sickeningly seeped in it's own magnificence or irony, or concept, or whatever other "idea" the artist was trying to convey. Maybe I'm being too harsh. But I feel, if an artist is trying to comment on something so cliche and over-done as phallic symbols, he should at least try to incorporate some sort of new idea into the mix. As it was, it was basically the same exhibit I have seen repeatedly. It was well-done, technically. Although, to me, it was not art. It was just an elaborate, self-absorbed doodle.
This is what gets me most about "modern art". Not all of it, mind, because there's plenty of modern art I admire.
But one thing I particularly don't understand is why they take such simple themes and either 1) try to make some great big deal out of it
2) obscure the original idea by simplisitic representation and poor reasoning.
There was a quote from Calvin and Hobbes that once said, "The purpose to writing is to inflate weak ideas, obscure poor reasoning, and inhibit clarity. With a little practice, writing can be an intimidating and impenetrable fog!"
'Writing', I feel can be substituted with 'modern art', and the explanation is just as accurate. I don't mind a little mystery every now and then with art, but when poor ideas are justified with poor reasoning, it annoys me that anyone could satisfactorily prescribe their name to the work.
Maybe this is really harsh. And I realize that artists and museums exhibit these things with the knowledge they are showing something publicly, and therefore, others are to react publicly. So, I don't feel so bad. And it's not for an offended sense of dignitiy that I write these things. When an entire room in a museum is filled with poor quality digital prints of a man in a storm-trooper helmet, holding a blue "light saber", exposing his genitalia, I suppose all one can do is laugh at how absurd it is. But the joke is old. So old. And just because it's being exhibited in a museum doesn't make it a smart commentary on anything. It just makes a bad joke...
But, on the flip side, art like that does have it's good points as it sets a marker for what is popular in the art world. And, of course, there is always a reaction against any type of art. So, this art will have a reaction, and maybe from that reaction will come something entirely the opposite. Not out of spite for the other art, but just to expose that it's not the only thing. And it's not. Something is already happening, I'm sure, we just don't see it, yet.
I just find it slightly depressing they couldn't find anything better to exhibit at this paticular museum. But it was free and there were many other more worthy paintings.
One that I found amusing was a small painting of a few men in a dinghy fighting off several ravenous polar bears. But my favorite was this painting of a preacher talking to some Sami people. He was warm, and obviously wealthy and well-fed, while they were trudging through the snow trying to survive. Their facial expressions were terrific. They distrusted him completely, and yet were suffering his presence with a sort of contempt. I liked it too, because much of it was white and grey, but it was still interesting.
Anyway, I must pause here and finish the next post with another leg of rambling. I will continue the next post with more on Tromso and the end of the production.
Friday, April 8, 2011
Free Cake!
If I had to put my life into a metaphor, for the past few months, it would be this: FREE CAKE.
Since I was at home a lot before I left, and my mom made my sister a birthday cake, and a few other celebretory cakes, there was plenty of free cake to be had.
In the show, there is always a cake after the performance because it gets eaten on stage. At least part of it. The rest gets eaten by the "mice" (a.k.a Seth and me... sometimes the mouse choir) after the performance. It's our treat for doing a good job. If we don't do a good job, we're less likely to eat cake.
Last weekend, I had the extreme pleasure in fulfilling one of my life long dreams, which was to dunk my face into a cake. I know it seems ridiculous. It is ridiculous. But, I felt a wave of joy as I emersed my face into the pastry, the cream filling my nostrils, and the freedom of only opening my mouth to taste heaven.
Perhaps, it could be said, that this is a gross display of a spoiled nature. I wouldn't argue with that. But, there is a kind of pleasure one has when one does something that is forbidden, but really never had a reason to be forbidden except that it was "messy".
And so, I have vowed, that when I have children, if I have children, they get a pretty cake, and a miniature "face cake", into which, for one day of the year, they get to dunk their face into. If they wish, of course. I'm not counting on my kids being like me, but if they are, they will dunk their faces into cake and like it.
Anyway,
Today, as I was working on my scenography workshop model, the professor came in and alerted me that there was cake in the staff room that needed eating.
Free cake again!? Is it possible?
Not only do I have a wonderful, loving family, I get to work in Norway (in a production that pays me to eat cake, no less), and now I get to study a workshop with one of the top scenographers in Europe, in a brand new building, with a school that is on the edge of the art and theatre scene in Europe...
Tomorrow, I am seeing "Othello" at the National Theatre in Oslo.
I only have 10 more days left in Norway. The time has flown gracefully by.
I wish I could recount and write about all my impressions from Norway, but sadly, they are fleeting and my memory is about as reliable as a... I forget.
BUT! I will continue my blog whenever I get a thought about Norway in the future, I hope. And my quest for an "anker" has yet to be realized, so there will be more on that, too, I'm sure. In general, I will chronicle my foibles and triumphs and everything else in between that leads me to the anchor chain of life.
Anyway,
After Norway, I fly to England, to spend a month with my mates. Then I am going to Germany, Prague (for the Prague Quadrennial), and Poland. Then back to England quickly, and then to America! I fly back on the 4th of July (tickets are way cheaper when you fly ON the holiday).
I don't know how things will go. But there may be free cake along the way. I just have to use my cake senses and see where it leads me. Finding the sweet stuff among all the muck is the most challenging, but also most rewarding thing one can do. And so, I know eventually someone will leave the cake out in the rain... but not today. And when they do, I'll just know that maybe I should find a place where either 1) it doesn't rain or 2) nincompoops don't leave cake to fend for itself. They're all sugar! They melt! Like the wicked witch!
It is needless to say I am tired and probably had more espresso with my cake than I should have. Oh well. You only live once. I'm going to take all the cake I can get... and make a few cakes of my own to balance it out.
Until next time!
Cake. I mean, ciao.
Since I was at home a lot before I left, and my mom made my sister a birthday cake, and a few other celebretory cakes, there was plenty of free cake to be had.
In the show, there is always a cake after the performance because it gets eaten on stage. At least part of it. The rest gets eaten by the "mice" (a.k.a Seth and me... sometimes the mouse choir) after the performance. It's our treat for doing a good job. If we don't do a good job, we're less likely to eat cake.
Last weekend, I had the extreme pleasure in fulfilling one of my life long dreams, which was to dunk my face into a cake. I know it seems ridiculous. It is ridiculous. But, I felt a wave of joy as I emersed my face into the pastry, the cream filling my nostrils, and the freedom of only opening my mouth to taste heaven.
Perhaps, it could be said, that this is a gross display of a spoiled nature. I wouldn't argue with that. But, there is a kind of pleasure one has when one does something that is forbidden, but really never had a reason to be forbidden except that it was "messy".
And so, I have vowed, that when I have children, if I have children, they get a pretty cake, and a miniature "face cake", into which, for one day of the year, they get to dunk their face into. If they wish, of course. I'm not counting on my kids being like me, but if they are, they will dunk their faces into cake and like it.
Anyway,
Today, as I was working on my scenography workshop model, the professor came in and alerted me that there was cake in the staff room that needed eating.
Free cake again!? Is it possible?
Not only do I have a wonderful, loving family, I get to work in Norway (in a production that pays me to eat cake, no less), and now I get to study a workshop with one of the top scenographers in Europe, in a brand new building, with a school that is on the edge of the art and theatre scene in Europe...
Tomorrow, I am seeing "Othello" at the National Theatre in Oslo.
I only have 10 more days left in Norway. The time has flown gracefully by.
I wish I could recount and write about all my impressions from Norway, but sadly, they are fleeting and my memory is about as reliable as a... I forget.
BUT! I will continue my blog whenever I get a thought about Norway in the future, I hope. And my quest for an "anker" has yet to be realized, so there will be more on that, too, I'm sure. In general, I will chronicle my foibles and triumphs and everything else in between that leads me to the anchor chain of life.
Anyway,
After Norway, I fly to England, to spend a month with my mates. Then I am going to Germany, Prague (for the Prague Quadrennial), and Poland. Then back to England quickly, and then to America! I fly back on the 4th of July (tickets are way cheaper when you fly ON the holiday).
I don't know how things will go. But there may be free cake along the way. I just have to use my cake senses and see where it leads me. Finding the sweet stuff among all the muck is the most challenging, but also most rewarding thing one can do. And so, I know eventually someone will leave the cake out in the rain... but not today. And when they do, I'll just know that maybe I should find a place where either 1) it doesn't rain or 2) nincompoops don't leave cake to fend for itself. They're all sugar! They melt! Like the wicked witch!
It is needless to say I am tired and probably had more espresso with my cake than I should have. Oh well. You only live once. I'm going to take all the cake I can get... and make a few cakes of my own to balance it out.
Until next time!
Cake. I mean, ciao.
Sunday, April 3, 2011
Glass Breaks
On Thursday, between the school performance and the Bodo "premiere" of Teskjkerringa, there was an approximate two hour break, after lunch, getting out of costume and makeup, and putting on my walkin' boots.
Seth, Sina, and I decided to explore the city a little bit. We walked East and happened upon the "Glasshuset", which is a street covered with glass, in between the main shopping street of the town. I got so excited, because one of my favorite things is glass, especially when it's used in architecture and in large quantities. The sun was shining through the glass roof, and the windows were sparkling. Being an impressionable person, I suddenly began to feel very happy, so I started to run.
My sister works at Macy's. I like lip gloss and perfume. These three things may not seem related. But, because I like lip gloss, my sister got me the Clinique lip gloss and perfume mix and match gift set. Because I like lip gloss and perfume, and because my sister knows me so well, I happened to have such a lip gloss/perfume tube in my pocket.
I started to run. And, inevitably, the vial jumped out of my pocket with a rebellious will and promptly let gravity take it's quickest and most direct course to the heavy tiles in the street.
Clink, crash, tinkling glass skated across the floor. The smell of perfume was immediately diffused into the air.
I thought to myself, "Argh! Right when I begin to be happy, something breaks!"
Then I said it out loud. Sina gave me a hug and Seth enjoyed adding to my embarrassment by taking pictures of all of it.
I picked up the glass and tossed it into the garbage bin.
Oh, well. Moving on.
We stopped into a candy/soda store, called "MIX", or "KIWI PRIS", or some other name I can't remember at the moment.
On the shelf I saw a soda I have never tried before. A Pepsi "Raw". Alright, I thought, it's in a glass bottle, it will be good for the environment.
Little did I know, being spoiled with the American screw-top glass bottles, and forgetting in Europe that most of the time, if it's a bottle with a metal cap, it's a pop-cap, not a screw-top.
Well, I discovered this after I bought it.
We walked outside the GlassHuset and I realized this crucial fact about bottle caps and the European ideas of how to store soda in ways only accessible to the people with the right tools handy. Being an improvisor of sorts, I decided, since I was very thirsty, the best thing would be to open the bottle like they do in the movies: on a fence or one someone's teeth. I saw a non-descript little black trash bin and thought this would work tolerably well. So, I put the cap on the edge and hit the bottle, simultaneously opening the bottle and observing it spewing forth it's bromidic brew.
Well, it actually worked relatively well. Especially since there was snow underneath the trash can. And last year, when I was in Paris, I had the same predicament, and opened a bottle of Coke with a key on the train platform. Which was really stupid, because that time it really did spew all over me. But, at least this time, I was prepared for a little spillage, so I managed to keep myself clean this time.
So, I have learned... a little, anyway. Maybe I didn't learn the actual helpful fact that I should probably carry a bottle opener if I want to buy bottles of soda... But, I survived to tell the tale.
Seth went into a book store, and Sina and I made our way to the post office to mail off some things. My large goose-down coat, I discovered, was rather unnecessary in the Spring months of Norway, and since it occupied a rather large space in my bag, along with my ski-socks, I shipped them back home, across the Ocean. The person at the post office was very patient with my stupidity for not knowing how to send the package properly, not having any packing tape, and not really having a return address... Other, less staunch postal workers may have gone "postal". Pardon the horrible pun, but she was helpful, and asked me to help her, and was very patient and understanding.
We found Seth again, and we went back to the theatre for the premiere.
On Friday, Elin, the costume lady took Seth, Sina and me to the lookout over Bodo. It is beautiful. I think I wrote about it in my last post. But, I think I forgot to mention we saw an Ocean Eagle, too. Elin told us when we first arrived in Narvik that we would see an Eagle while we were in Norway, and she was right. She showed us where she lives; a charming red wooden house from the 1920's with a sauna. Elin has lived in Bodo her whole life. It's amazing. Because you can kind of tell. In Narvik, she was slightly out of place, but in Bodo, she is like the princess of Bodo, to me. She is brusk like the wind, but lovely and kind, too. I really like her. Anyway, it was very nice of her to drive us up there on her break. It was very fun. We tromped around in the snow and had a good time.
But breaking all the glass and opening the glass bottles, and walking through the Glass Huset, it was just a little too similar in theme for me to ignore it in my blog.
If I had to label different materials for different towns in Norway, I would have to attach my impressions thus:
Oslo= Loam/sand
Narvik= Wood
Bodo = Glass
I'm not sure why, but I associate those types of material with those cities. Maybe because in Oslo, I walked around more, over the slippery snow, which was coated in sand and gravel, and when the snow melted, it mixed into a loamy texture that collected in little piles in the streets.
In Narvik, the first time I saw the set, which was entirely made of wood, made a great impression on me. Then, when the Vinter Festuka (Winter Festival) opened, my favorite street vendor sold hand-made carved wooden cups. And the entire Opera process in Narvik was one of "Knock on wood"/We hope this works, type thing. Just the organic process of trial and error, and growing the show from it's first seed.
In Bodo, there is the GlassHuset, obviously, but there also became apparent the fragile nature of the set and the egos of some of the people I work with. And I became aware of how vulnerable people can be, myself not excluded.
Bodo has helped me to realize how life, like glass, can be fragile, beautiful, penetrating, and often translucent. But also carries with it an invisible barrier, and a knowledge that, under the right conditions, it can shatter. And what can we do but pick up the pieces and move on?
Two other things I've realized today/recently/since being in Bodo.
1) Last night, Saturday, I spent at my friend Silja's. She was the assistant director for the show, and it was her birthday. I went to her house and she cooked dinner, I took my bottle of wine Elin and Tove bought me as a "thank you" in Narvik, for the premiere. We shared the food, wine, and our ideas. I was talking about how I moved very often as a kid, and I started talking about a book my dad had given me to read. It was "Who Moved My Cheese?"
"I think I have that book," said Silja.
"Really?"
"Yes, here it is!" She pulled out the book from her wooden inlaid bookshelf. I briefly scanned the pages.
"Ah, yes, I thought. The book about change."
The synopsis of the book is that things change, and you've got to go with the flow of change and not fight the fact that things do not remain the same. Things break, people leave, people arrive, and what can we do but just keep moving? If we get stuck in one place, we can become extinct; either physically, emotionally, soulfully, or mentally. We lose our life essence, which is to keep moving.
Silja and I also love to walk. Walking in itself is a revolution, a movement. Even if one only returns to one's own house, one has still returned a slightly different person. And we ourselves are changing all the time, the impressions we receive and the things we learn about others and about ourselves is always changing. Why should we hang on to one ideal when there are so many other possibilities?
2) Listening to indie music today (Sunday) on "grooveshark.com" has given me an insight into something which I have thought for quite some time, but have never really been able to articulate. It's more like a rhetorical question, but it is this;
"What is more childish? The wide-eyed wonder or beleiving you know everything?"
What got me to think this was listening to the lyrics of several artists/singers.
They kept saying they knew what the world was like. How hard it was, how mean it was, how the forecast is always rain, Blah, blah, blah. When, really, what is the world but a conglomeration of everything wonderful, awe-inspiring, frightening, horrific, beautiful, and simple?
It's when a person loses their sense of curiosity about life that they no longer grow, and begin to decay. I have been in this mindset for several months last year.I thought I had discovered everything I was ever going to discover and I was very sad. It was horrible. I felt like Alice in Alice in Wonderland when she lost all her "muchiness".
I guess that's part of what Pavel meant when he said that "You must remain vulnerable." Because, really, how childish actually is a child? I argue that the most "childish" person is someone who thinks they've acquired the equation to life. Without the curiosity, what are we but apathetic lumps of carbon waiting for the chopping block? Without the hope, the struggle, the challenge, and the effort, we can't enjoy the simple pleasures of life, or the beauty of the world around us. We become privileged and only see the negativity surrounding us. We focus on the blemishes, instead of revelling in the fact that the sky is blue, or that the sunset is pink.
Basically, "Keep it simple, stupid."
I find that being susceptible and hurt/injured/affected by imperfections and mistakes is sometimes what is the most helpful and powerful experience. And so, things break, we fix what we can, pick up the rest, and let go. Because if we grasp at the glass shards too hard, or too long, we only hurt ourselves. And things need to break. Because they will. Life is like that.
I sort of knew these things before, but I'm rediscovering their trueness. Needless to say, I am having a terrific time in Norway. It's one of the best times of my life I have ever had and I am trying to catch and see every moment for it's own worth.
Anyway, I am in Bodo right now, it is raining. I am sitting in the library listening to music and the rain patter on the glass roof. Tomorrow, Seth and I are travelling to Fredrikstad at 7:30am, so I must go pack now.
Peace,
Hannah
Seth, Sina, and I decided to explore the city a little bit. We walked East and happened upon the "Glasshuset", which is a street covered with glass, in between the main shopping street of the town. I got so excited, because one of my favorite things is glass, especially when it's used in architecture and in large quantities. The sun was shining through the glass roof, and the windows were sparkling. Being an impressionable person, I suddenly began to feel very happy, so I started to run.
My sister works at Macy's. I like lip gloss and perfume. These three things may not seem related. But, because I like lip gloss, my sister got me the Clinique lip gloss and perfume mix and match gift set. Because I like lip gloss and perfume, and because my sister knows me so well, I happened to have such a lip gloss/perfume tube in my pocket.
I started to run. And, inevitably, the vial jumped out of my pocket with a rebellious will and promptly let gravity take it's quickest and most direct course to the heavy tiles in the street.
Clink, crash, tinkling glass skated across the floor. The smell of perfume was immediately diffused into the air.
I thought to myself, "Argh! Right when I begin to be happy, something breaks!"
Then I said it out loud. Sina gave me a hug and Seth enjoyed adding to my embarrassment by taking pictures of all of it.
I picked up the glass and tossed it into the garbage bin.
Oh, well. Moving on.
We stopped into a candy/soda store, called "MIX", or "KIWI PRIS", or some other name I can't remember at the moment.
On the shelf I saw a soda I have never tried before. A Pepsi "Raw". Alright, I thought, it's in a glass bottle, it will be good for the environment.
Little did I know, being spoiled with the American screw-top glass bottles, and forgetting in Europe that most of the time, if it's a bottle with a metal cap, it's a pop-cap, not a screw-top.
Well, I discovered this after I bought it.
We walked outside the GlassHuset and I realized this crucial fact about bottle caps and the European ideas of how to store soda in ways only accessible to the people with the right tools handy. Being an improvisor of sorts, I decided, since I was very thirsty, the best thing would be to open the bottle like they do in the movies: on a fence or one someone's teeth. I saw a non-descript little black trash bin and thought this would work tolerably well. So, I put the cap on the edge and hit the bottle, simultaneously opening the bottle and observing it spewing forth it's bromidic brew.
Well, it actually worked relatively well. Especially since there was snow underneath the trash can. And last year, when I was in Paris, I had the same predicament, and opened a bottle of Coke with a key on the train platform. Which was really stupid, because that time it really did spew all over me. But, at least this time, I was prepared for a little spillage, so I managed to keep myself clean this time.
So, I have learned... a little, anyway. Maybe I didn't learn the actual helpful fact that I should probably carry a bottle opener if I want to buy bottles of soda... But, I survived to tell the tale.
Seth went into a book store, and Sina and I made our way to the post office to mail off some things. My large goose-down coat, I discovered, was rather unnecessary in the Spring months of Norway, and since it occupied a rather large space in my bag, along with my ski-socks, I shipped them back home, across the Ocean. The person at the post office was very patient with my stupidity for not knowing how to send the package properly, not having any packing tape, and not really having a return address... Other, less staunch postal workers may have gone "postal". Pardon the horrible pun, but she was helpful, and asked me to help her, and was very patient and understanding.
We found Seth again, and we went back to the theatre for the premiere.
On Friday, Elin, the costume lady took Seth, Sina and me to the lookout over Bodo. It is beautiful. I think I wrote about it in my last post. But, I think I forgot to mention we saw an Ocean Eagle, too. Elin told us when we first arrived in Narvik that we would see an Eagle while we were in Norway, and she was right. She showed us where she lives; a charming red wooden house from the 1920's with a sauna. Elin has lived in Bodo her whole life. It's amazing. Because you can kind of tell. In Narvik, she was slightly out of place, but in Bodo, she is like the princess of Bodo, to me. She is brusk like the wind, but lovely and kind, too. I really like her. Anyway, it was very nice of her to drive us up there on her break. It was very fun. We tromped around in the snow and had a good time.
But breaking all the glass and opening the glass bottles, and walking through the Glass Huset, it was just a little too similar in theme for me to ignore it in my blog.
If I had to label different materials for different towns in Norway, I would have to attach my impressions thus:
Oslo= Loam/sand
Narvik= Wood
Bodo = Glass
I'm not sure why, but I associate those types of material with those cities. Maybe because in Oslo, I walked around more, over the slippery snow, which was coated in sand and gravel, and when the snow melted, it mixed into a loamy texture that collected in little piles in the streets.
In Narvik, the first time I saw the set, which was entirely made of wood, made a great impression on me. Then, when the Vinter Festuka (Winter Festival) opened, my favorite street vendor sold hand-made carved wooden cups. And the entire Opera process in Narvik was one of "Knock on wood"/We hope this works, type thing. Just the organic process of trial and error, and growing the show from it's first seed.
In Bodo, there is the GlassHuset, obviously, but there also became apparent the fragile nature of the set and the egos of some of the people I work with. And I became aware of how vulnerable people can be, myself not excluded.
Bodo has helped me to realize how life, like glass, can be fragile, beautiful, penetrating, and often translucent. But also carries with it an invisible barrier, and a knowledge that, under the right conditions, it can shatter. And what can we do but pick up the pieces and move on?
Two other things I've realized today/recently/since being in Bodo.
1) Last night, Saturday, I spent at my friend Silja's. She was the assistant director for the show, and it was her birthday. I went to her house and she cooked dinner, I took my bottle of wine Elin and Tove bought me as a "thank you" in Narvik, for the premiere. We shared the food, wine, and our ideas. I was talking about how I moved very often as a kid, and I started talking about a book my dad had given me to read. It was "Who Moved My Cheese?"
"I think I have that book," said Silja.
"Really?"
"Yes, here it is!" She pulled out the book from her wooden inlaid bookshelf. I briefly scanned the pages.
"Ah, yes, I thought. The book about change."
The synopsis of the book is that things change, and you've got to go with the flow of change and not fight the fact that things do not remain the same. Things break, people leave, people arrive, and what can we do but just keep moving? If we get stuck in one place, we can become extinct; either physically, emotionally, soulfully, or mentally. We lose our life essence, which is to keep moving.
Silja and I also love to walk. Walking in itself is a revolution, a movement. Even if one only returns to one's own house, one has still returned a slightly different person. And we ourselves are changing all the time, the impressions we receive and the things we learn about others and about ourselves is always changing. Why should we hang on to one ideal when there are so many other possibilities?
2) Listening to indie music today (Sunday) on "grooveshark.com" has given me an insight into something which I have thought for quite some time, but have never really been able to articulate. It's more like a rhetorical question, but it is this;
"What is more childish? The wide-eyed wonder or beleiving you know everything?"
What got me to think this was listening to the lyrics of several artists/singers.
They kept saying they knew what the world was like. How hard it was, how mean it was, how the forecast is always rain, Blah, blah, blah. When, really, what is the world but a conglomeration of everything wonderful, awe-inspiring, frightening, horrific, beautiful, and simple?
It's when a person loses their sense of curiosity about life that they no longer grow, and begin to decay. I have been in this mindset for several months last year.I thought I had discovered everything I was ever going to discover and I was very sad. It was horrible. I felt like Alice in Alice in Wonderland when she lost all her "muchiness".
I guess that's part of what Pavel meant when he said that "You must remain vulnerable." Because, really, how childish actually is a child? I argue that the most "childish" person is someone who thinks they've acquired the equation to life. Without the curiosity, what are we but apathetic lumps of carbon waiting for the chopping block? Without the hope, the struggle, the challenge, and the effort, we can't enjoy the simple pleasures of life, or the beauty of the world around us. We become privileged and only see the negativity surrounding us. We focus on the blemishes, instead of revelling in the fact that the sky is blue, or that the sunset is pink.
Basically, "Keep it simple, stupid."
I find that being susceptible and hurt/injured/affected by imperfections and mistakes is sometimes what is the most helpful and powerful experience. And so, things break, we fix what we can, pick up the rest, and let go. Because if we grasp at the glass shards too hard, or too long, we only hurt ourselves. And things need to break. Because they will. Life is like that.
I sort of knew these things before, but I'm rediscovering their trueness. Needless to say, I am having a terrific time in Norway. It's one of the best times of my life I have ever had and I am trying to catch and see every moment for it's own worth.
Anyway, I am in Bodo right now, it is raining. I am sitting in the library listening to music and the rain patter on the glass roof. Tomorrow, Seth and I are travelling to Fredrikstad at 7:30am, so I must go pack now.
Peace,
Hannah
Friends and the Full Moon
Maybe I mentioned it before, I can't remember...
But March 18th was the closest the moon has been to the Earth in 19 years. And it happened to be a full moon. A rare occurence.
On the night of the event, Seth and I visited our German and Polish friends, Steffi, Sina, and Anna. Steffi and Sina made us "Fanta" cake, which was very delicious. We ate cake with the others in their house. They are doing a EVS (European Voluntary Service), which is young people all over Europe who come together and live and study the culture together. This house was in Narvik, so there were Russians, and a Serbian, and since Seth and I were there, Americans.
We drank some home-made Polish vodka, sang and danced the clouds away. About 11:30pm, the clouds cleared and the moon, whose light we could see beaming over the peak of the mountain, finally rose in a dramatic fashion. We howled like wolves at the moon. There was a building on the peak that was a silhouette against the moon and at the apex of the moon's position behind it, it looked as if the building were on the moon, and the moon was portal to the universe in the fabric of stars and space.
Later in the evening, we began to sing karaoke, and we had a dance party in the kitchen. Steffi insists that kitchen parties are the best. And I think she may be right. There is something so comfortable about standing in the kitchen around the oven or stove and having a cup of tea, or watching the water boil.
Seth and I have been in Norway for an entire month now. And although, in a lunar sense, it is not the full moon now, but for our time in Norway, it is. After a month, we have finished the first two destinations of the show. We have broken things, fixed things, packed and unpacked, and assembled the set. From March 7th-April 4th, we had one day off. Often we have worked 12 hour days in the theatres. Finally, the full moon of our time here has reached it's zenith, and now, we are calmly waning again. Change always happens, and while I enjoyed the heavy work and the long hours of before, it is nice to have a different type of work ahead of us. The tizzy excitenment and distracted sense of adventure of before has been replaced with a calm sense of exploration, and our surroundings, while no less fascinating, are more scrutinized with a knowledge of background.
I'm beginning to be able to read sign posts and menus in Norwegian, and I begin to understand what people say. Responding is difficult. Sometimes when they speak Norwegian, it sounds like a very strange accent in English. Which, I'm not sure if it is because Norwegian is similar to English, or if I am becoming accustomed to it. It's a bit of both, probably, but it's exciting to begin to understand what people say. Although, when I'm tired and unfocused, it's more difficult to understand.
Steffi was talking to me one day, "What do you call these?" and pointed to her rain boots.
"They are rain boots. Or Galoshes. Or Rubber boots."
"Gal-whaaaat?"
"Gal-osh-es."
"That is such a strange word. It's ugly."
"Well, that's what we call them. What do you call them?"
"I call them my Gummy Boots."
Gummy Boots. An excellent name for them. Much better and more creative than "galoshes" or "rain boots". To me, they are gummy boots they are for here ever after.
I bought a pair yesterday because it was raining so heavily, and I discovered that my work boots are only water proof below the laces. The puddles in the streets of Bodo were at least 6in. deep because of the slushy snow creating little dams for the melting water. So, it is needless to say, my feet got dunked in cold water several times. I bought a sensible black pair of gummy boots, and after just two days of having them, they have already proved their gummy integrity, keeping my feet dry and warm.
I apologize for writing in disjointed vignettes, but I find it easier to write about segments of my travels in short stories, rather than chronological accounts of all my activities. I find that short, isolated stories are easier to tell, and more enjoyable to read, because one does not have to digest too many facts all at once, and without context. I find that context is the key for understanding and explaining anything.
Anyway, back to my stories...
The other day, Friday, I think it was, between shows, we had about 3 hours off. Ellyn, the costumer lives in Bodo, and so she drove Sina, Seth, and I up to the lookout over Bodo. The mountains are amazing. It's unlike any landscape I've ever seen. They look like what I imagine the Himalayas to be like, but instead rise directly from the sea without ceremony. It's such a dramatic contrast between the flat nature of water, and the strong, daring peaks of the mountains.
Tomorrow we are leaving for Fredrikstad, which is famous for it's "Old City" architecture and art academy, where we will be taking a scenography workshop course for 10 days. On April 13th, we are travelling to the Nordland again to Tromso, where we will assemble and perform the last location of our Norwegian tour.
I will write more momentarily, I am now trying to organize my travel plans back to England, after Tromso, and my Summer travels in Germany, Poland, and the Czech Republic.
More later...
Hannah
But March 18th was the closest the moon has been to the Earth in 19 years. And it happened to be a full moon. A rare occurence.
On the night of the event, Seth and I visited our German and Polish friends, Steffi, Sina, and Anna. Steffi and Sina made us "Fanta" cake, which was very delicious. We ate cake with the others in their house. They are doing a EVS (European Voluntary Service), which is young people all over Europe who come together and live and study the culture together. This house was in Narvik, so there were Russians, and a Serbian, and since Seth and I were there, Americans.
We drank some home-made Polish vodka, sang and danced the clouds away. About 11:30pm, the clouds cleared and the moon, whose light we could see beaming over the peak of the mountain, finally rose in a dramatic fashion. We howled like wolves at the moon. There was a building on the peak that was a silhouette against the moon and at the apex of the moon's position behind it, it looked as if the building were on the moon, and the moon was portal to the universe in the fabric of stars and space.
Later in the evening, we began to sing karaoke, and we had a dance party in the kitchen. Steffi insists that kitchen parties are the best. And I think she may be right. There is something so comfortable about standing in the kitchen around the oven or stove and having a cup of tea, or watching the water boil.
Seth and I have been in Norway for an entire month now. And although, in a lunar sense, it is not the full moon now, but for our time in Norway, it is. After a month, we have finished the first two destinations of the show. We have broken things, fixed things, packed and unpacked, and assembled the set. From March 7th-April 4th, we had one day off. Often we have worked 12 hour days in the theatres. Finally, the full moon of our time here has reached it's zenith, and now, we are calmly waning again. Change always happens, and while I enjoyed the heavy work and the long hours of before, it is nice to have a different type of work ahead of us. The tizzy excitenment and distracted sense of adventure of before has been replaced with a calm sense of exploration, and our surroundings, while no less fascinating, are more scrutinized with a knowledge of background.
I'm beginning to be able to read sign posts and menus in Norwegian, and I begin to understand what people say. Responding is difficult. Sometimes when they speak Norwegian, it sounds like a very strange accent in English. Which, I'm not sure if it is because Norwegian is similar to English, or if I am becoming accustomed to it. It's a bit of both, probably, but it's exciting to begin to understand what people say. Although, when I'm tired and unfocused, it's more difficult to understand.
Steffi was talking to me one day, "What do you call these?" and pointed to her rain boots.
"They are rain boots. Or Galoshes. Or Rubber boots."
"Gal-whaaaat?"
"Gal-osh-es."
"That is such a strange word. It's ugly."
"Well, that's what we call them. What do you call them?"
"I call them my Gummy Boots."
Gummy Boots. An excellent name for them. Much better and more creative than "galoshes" or "rain boots". To me, they are gummy boots they are for here ever after.
I bought a pair yesterday because it was raining so heavily, and I discovered that my work boots are only water proof below the laces. The puddles in the streets of Bodo were at least 6in. deep because of the slushy snow creating little dams for the melting water. So, it is needless to say, my feet got dunked in cold water several times. I bought a sensible black pair of gummy boots, and after just two days of having them, they have already proved their gummy integrity, keeping my feet dry and warm.
I apologize for writing in disjointed vignettes, but I find it easier to write about segments of my travels in short stories, rather than chronological accounts of all my activities. I find that short, isolated stories are easier to tell, and more enjoyable to read, because one does not have to digest too many facts all at once, and without context. I find that context is the key for understanding and explaining anything.
Anyway, back to my stories...
The other day, Friday, I think it was, between shows, we had about 3 hours off. Ellyn, the costumer lives in Bodo, and so she drove Sina, Seth, and I up to the lookout over Bodo. The mountains are amazing. It's unlike any landscape I've ever seen. They look like what I imagine the Himalayas to be like, but instead rise directly from the sea without ceremony. It's such a dramatic contrast between the flat nature of water, and the strong, daring peaks of the mountains.
Tomorrow we are leaving for Fredrikstad, which is famous for it's "Old City" architecture and art academy, where we will be taking a scenography workshop course for 10 days. On April 13th, we are travelling to the Nordland again to Tromso, where we will assemble and perform the last location of our Norwegian tour.
I will write more momentarily, I am now trying to organize my travel plans back to England, after Tromso, and my Summer travels in Germany, Poland, and the Czech Republic.
More later...
Hannah
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