I can't get you...
I'm back from the American College Theatre Festival. It was... nothing less than interesting. A good week with good people, and a lot of crazy shit.
First of all. Rule #1 - Theatre is NOT a competition. Rule #2 - Art cannot be compared. Rule #3 - Tell your story.
So, we drove to Fitchburg, and surrounded ourselves with pompous theatre kids with enormously large egos. Oh joy. What a blast. Wednesday, I auditioned for the Irene Ryan Scholarship competition. It was... interesting. Friday, we had to perform Frankenstein. To keep it short, the light board blew, and all of the lighting cues were done live and manually by Gena using 12 sliders. If you've even seen a show here at WSC, you may understand that this was an act of God performed by her. We came, and did our show, and told our story. Our job is done. If nothing else, share art. After the show was over, Jack called all of the cast and crew into the house, and informed us of something terribly heartbreaking. A former student of our dept. had died a few days ago. I never knew Justin personally, but I had seen him wandering around campus, and lots of people knew him from Uncle Vanya and other previous shows. I had never seen Jack or Chris cry before. I don't think I'd ever seen Colin cry so hard in his life either. But despite the tragedy, we celebrated the night away with kareoke at the hotel bar with students and professors. It was maybe the most fun I've ever had. Then we all went back to my room (including Chris and Sabine) and hung out. A night I'll never forget. The festival ended on a good note, as we received the Golden Hammer award for best load in. I'm so glad we had this opportunity, and it was a great time. Although I'm glad to be back... I'm not so ready to jump back into classes. This whirlwind is far from over also, because The Disposal opens next Wednesday. So, it's still go go go.
First of all. Rule #1 - Theatre is NOT a competition. Rule #2 - Art cannot be compared. Rule #3 - Tell your story.
So, we drove to Fitchburg, and surrounded ourselves with pompous theatre kids with enormously large egos. Oh joy. What a blast. Wednesday, I auditioned for the Irene Ryan Scholarship competition. It was... interesting. Friday, we had to perform Frankenstein. To keep it short, the light board blew, and all of the lighting cues were done live and manually by Gena using 12 sliders. If you've even seen a show here at WSC, you may understand that this was an act of God performed by her. We came, and did our show, and told our story. Our job is done. If nothing else, share art. After the show was over, Jack called all of the cast and crew into the house, and informed us of something terribly heartbreaking. A former student of our dept. had died a few days ago. I never knew Justin personally, but I had seen him wandering around campus, and lots of people knew him from Uncle Vanya and other previous shows. I had never seen Jack or Chris cry before. I don't think I'd ever seen Colin cry so hard in his life either. But despite the tragedy, we celebrated the night away with kareoke at the hotel bar with students and professors. It was maybe the most fun I've ever had. Then we all went back to my room (including Chris and Sabine) and hung out. A night I'll never forget. The festival ended on a good note, as we received the Golden Hammer award for best load in. I'm so glad we had this opportunity, and it was a great time. Although I'm glad to be back... I'm not so ready to jump back into classes. This whirlwind is far from over also, because The Disposal opens next Wednesday. So, it's still go go go.