(no subject)
I felt mildly gypped in Acting II today, but not in any bad way.
The entire class has the first four opening lines from "Henry V" (at least I think that's the play), and we're going through it, a person at a time, working toward finding the natural musicality of the voice.
"O, for a Muse of fire, that ascends
the brightest heavens of invention.
A kingdom for a stage, princes to act,
and monarchs to behold the swelling scene."
We started this last class. There were some people Doug would run through it two or three times, giving little tips here and there, and then say, "Good" and let them go back to their seat. A few others, he pushed and pushed and pushed (one girl actually started crying today because he kept pushing her).
Today, I volunteered to go first, and went up, started it, and proceeded to trip over a word and stop myself, flustered. Calmed down, started from the beginning, and finished. Looked at him.
"Good." And he gestured for me to go sit down, and then asked the rest of the class what I'd done right in my performance.
Okay, so I'm giddy and rather thrilled about it too, because he didn't pick on me at all. The part that feels mildly gypped is the part that's been through four years of writing workshops where I've seen my heart being torn to shreds over and over (at least twice a semester), and is going, "But...but...you didn't say anything to me!"
Doug told the class, "You need to learn how to take critique! I'm going to be confronting you with some ugly truths about yourself!" and a few variations thereof.
...I took both Memoir and Personal Essay. I know about confronting myself, about looking deep down and seeing the ugliest parts of me and saying, "Yes, those are there. And they are a part of who I am." That's not really an issue.
Maybe that's part of why he only had me go through it fully once. But still, the part of me that's grown used to being critiqued is sort of flailing in utter confusion. ^^;;
The entire class has the first four opening lines from "Henry V" (at least I think that's the play), and we're going through it, a person at a time, working toward finding the natural musicality of the voice.
"O, for a Muse of fire, that ascends
the brightest heavens of invention.
A kingdom for a stage, princes to act,
and monarchs to behold the swelling scene."
We started this last class. There were some people Doug would run through it two or three times, giving little tips here and there, and then say, "Good" and let them go back to their seat. A few others, he pushed and pushed and pushed (one girl actually started crying today because he kept pushing her).
Today, I volunteered to go first, and went up, started it, and proceeded to trip over a word and stop myself, flustered. Calmed down, started from the beginning, and finished. Looked at him.
"Good." And he gestured for me to go sit down, and then asked the rest of the class what I'd done right in my performance.
Okay, so I'm giddy and rather thrilled about it too, because he didn't pick on me at all. The part that feels mildly gypped is the part that's been through four years of writing workshops where I've seen my heart being torn to shreds over and over (at least twice a semester), and is going, "But...but...you didn't say anything to me!"
Doug told the class, "You need to learn how to take critique! I'm going to be confronting you with some ugly truths about yourself!" and a few variations thereof.
...I took both Memoir and Personal Essay. I know about confronting myself, about looking deep down and seeing the ugliest parts of me and saying, "Yes, those are there. And they are a part of who I am." That's not really an issue.
Maybe that's part of why he only had me go through it fully once. But still, the part of me that's grown used to being critiqued is sort of flailing in utter confusion. ^^;;