Momento
GUYS I NEVER WANT TO FORGET THIS NIGHT.
So, we were told to meet at the main Dell'Arte building at 6:45. The M2s would theoretically meet us there, after which we would all head over to River Campus together, where we (the PTP/M1s) would present our first projects, which we were assigned yesterday. We're all a little nervous, but looking forward to getting this first assignment over with.
We all show up. We're waiting outside the main building, in the rain, with our costumes and apprehensions. Suddenly, a lone figure comes stumbling out of the Logger Bar, across the street. Her lipstick is smeared. Her clothing is askew. She stumbles over to us, and begins drunkenly ranting about how Blue Lake used to be occupied by pirates. And about how, occasionally, the pirates return. Laughing, we listen to her tales, all of us pretty sure that we recognize Molly, an MFA alumnae from several years back.
Cue the air raid siren, usually used to summon the volunteer fire department.
Cue the distant sound of wailing, and drums, echoing through the empty, rainy streets. Molly the drunkard continues slurring about the pirates.
Suddenly, over the crest of the street to the left appears a ghostly pirate ship, fifteen feet tall, constructed of PVC pipe, rope, and torn linen. Mounted on a small flat-bed trailer, pulled by an ancient, white VW Cabriolet.
It is swarming with ghost pirates.
They are beating drums, shouting, singing, calling us to join them on their ghostly voyage.
We do.
We climb aboard, laughing and shouting, all too eager to obey the commands of the M2s, who have done themselves up in full ghost pirate make-up and garb, and who are urging us aboard their ghost pirate ship.
We all embark, and, squashed together like so many sardines, we are driven through the streets of Blue Lake, as the ghost pirates teach us their songs, running alongside the ship. "We handstand and back-bend and throw out our backs, drink up, Dell'Artians, yo ho!" The rain drizzles down. I can't stop grinning. I can't stop singing.
We arrive at River Campus. We are told by the ghost pirates to get into our respective groups, and we are lead into the building. The lights have been dimmed, and the usual hallway into Riverview studio has been transformed into a shadowy labyrinth, through which we pass, ducking, turning, and carefully stepping, in hushed voices.
One by one, we emerge into the studio. It has been transformed into an undersea banquet hall. Netting hangs from the ceiling, furniture has been draped in blue cloth, pearls, and sea life. An undersea pirate feast (mostly made of plastic, foam, and suspended disbelief) waits on a nearby table. The faculty and staff of Dell'Arte are seated at tables along the back wall. We take our places, sitting on mats on the floor in front of the stage.
When at last the first years have all entered, and found their seats, the M2s gather in the (spookily-lit) corner, and each takes up an instrument. Slowly, eerily, they turn their ghostly faces towards us, and begin a rendition of an absolutely incredible pirate ballad that I'm pretty sure those bastards wrote themselves. We are enraptured. I can't stop grinning.
The pirate ballad has gathered steam, and just as the line about the deep mysteries of the ocean hits us, through the WINDOW OF THE STUDIO CRAWLS A SERIES OF SEA CREATURES. A mermaid. An Ursula-like octopus. An angler fish. A hammerhead shark. And a freaking sea monkey, wearing a snorkel and flippers. It's the M3's. They have joined us. The ghost pirates pay them homage- they are the sea-lebrities (HAR!) and they seat themselves upon the lavishly-draped couches and chairs, before which the pirate feast is lain. They are ready to be impressed.
Finally, after this incredible introduction, we are asked to perform our pieces. We do so, in groups of three, and if any group strays outside of the three-minute time limit, they are condemned to Walk The Spank. (i.e. they are sent through the legs of all of the M2s, and are soundly spanked as they crawl down the line.) The M3s, in majestic sea creature form, offer praise or judgement. We worship them, as they must be worshipped.
Finally, it is all over. We have all performed, for the first time, as Dell'Arte students, and we are relieved, we are terrified, we are energized, we are present, we are ready. We gather in a circle- faculty, staff, students, graduates, friends- and dixie cups are passed around the circle. The M2s move around the circle, and each new student is given a splash of wine, a slap on the face, and a kiss. We raise a glass to Carlo- Carlo!- who founded this place, in whose honor we risk all for the sweet joy that follows, and we all drink together.
Here we are. Here I am. La famiglia. It begins.
So, we were told to meet at the main Dell'Arte building at 6:45. The M2s would theoretically meet us there, after which we would all head over to River Campus together, where we (the PTP/M1s) would present our first projects, which we were assigned yesterday. We're all a little nervous, but looking forward to getting this first assignment over with.
We all show up. We're waiting outside the main building, in the rain, with our costumes and apprehensions. Suddenly, a lone figure comes stumbling out of the Logger Bar, across the street. Her lipstick is smeared. Her clothing is askew. She stumbles over to us, and begins drunkenly ranting about how Blue Lake used to be occupied by pirates. And about how, occasionally, the pirates return. Laughing, we listen to her tales, all of us pretty sure that we recognize Molly, an MFA alumnae from several years back.
Cue the air raid siren, usually used to summon the volunteer fire department.
Cue the distant sound of wailing, and drums, echoing through the empty, rainy streets. Molly the drunkard continues slurring about the pirates.
Suddenly, over the crest of the street to the left appears a ghostly pirate ship, fifteen feet tall, constructed of PVC pipe, rope, and torn linen. Mounted on a small flat-bed trailer, pulled by an ancient, white VW Cabriolet.
It is swarming with ghost pirates.
They are beating drums, shouting, singing, calling us to join them on their ghostly voyage.
We do.
We climb aboard, laughing and shouting, all too eager to obey the commands of the M2s, who have done themselves up in full ghost pirate make-up and garb, and who are urging us aboard their ghost pirate ship.
We all embark, and, squashed together like so many sardines, we are driven through the streets of Blue Lake, as the ghost pirates teach us their songs, running alongside the ship. "We handstand and back-bend and throw out our backs, drink up, Dell'Artians, yo ho!" The rain drizzles down. I can't stop grinning. I can't stop singing.
We arrive at River Campus. We are told by the ghost pirates to get into our respective groups, and we are lead into the building. The lights have been dimmed, and the usual hallway into Riverview studio has been transformed into a shadowy labyrinth, through which we pass, ducking, turning, and carefully stepping, in hushed voices.
One by one, we emerge into the studio. It has been transformed into an undersea banquet hall. Netting hangs from the ceiling, furniture has been draped in blue cloth, pearls, and sea life. An undersea pirate feast (mostly made of plastic, foam, and suspended disbelief) waits on a nearby table. The faculty and staff of Dell'Arte are seated at tables along the back wall. We take our places, sitting on mats on the floor in front of the stage.
When at last the first years have all entered, and found their seats, the M2s gather in the (spookily-lit) corner, and each takes up an instrument. Slowly, eerily, they turn their ghostly faces towards us, and begin a rendition of an absolutely incredible pirate ballad that I'm pretty sure those bastards wrote themselves. We are enraptured. I can't stop grinning.
The pirate ballad has gathered steam, and just as the line about the deep mysteries of the ocean hits us, through the WINDOW OF THE STUDIO CRAWLS A SERIES OF SEA CREATURES. A mermaid. An Ursula-like octopus. An angler fish. A hammerhead shark. And a freaking sea monkey, wearing a snorkel and flippers. It's the M3's. They have joined us. The ghost pirates pay them homage- they are the sea-lebrities (HAR!) and they seat themselves upon the lavishly-draped couches and chairs, before which the pirate feast is lain. They are ready to be impressed.
Finally, after this incredible introduction, we are asked to perform our pieces. We do so, in groups of three, and if any group strays outside of the three-minute time limit, they are condemned to Walk The Spank. (i.e. they are sent through the legs of all of the M2s, and are soundly spanked as they crawl down the line.) The M3s, in majestic sea creature form, offer praise or judgement. We worship them, as they must be worshipped.
Finally, it is all over. We have all performed, for the first time, as Dell'Arte students, and we are relieved, we are terrified, we are energized, we are present, we are ready. We gather in a circle- faculty, staff, students, graduates, friends- and dixie cups are passed around the circle. The M2s move around the circle, and each new student is given a splash of wine, a slap on the face, and a kiss. We raise a glass to Carlo- Carlo!- who founded this place, in whose honor we risk all for the sweet joy that follows, and we all drink together.
Here we are. Here I am. La famiglia. It begins.