Term II: my un-melodramatic adventures in un-tragedy

We're in the territory of melodrama (where you try to make the audience cry), fast approaching tragedy, and (surprisingly perhaps) I feel great! For some reason, constructing and playing these sad things is a lot more fun than it sounds. I'm currently part of a piece about the "silence camps" run by the Russians after WWII, where they tried to "de-nazify" the Nazis. One of my group-mates had a great-aunt that was actually in one of these camps, and we're working with a highly fictionalized version of that story. I get to be the musician, which means I'm get to move gravel around in a box with a spoon to make the sound of grave-digging, and also play (hopefully) heart-rending tunes on my classmate's violin. I picked up that instrument for the first time in about eight years with much apprehension, but I'm re-discovering a kind of love for it. I wish you could all see our piece, I think it's going to be quite good.

In domestic news, the new apartment continues to be absolutely wonderful, especially now that we have a shower curtain! I also signed up to receive organic fruit and vegetable boxes every week, and it's really nice to get carrots that still have the dirt on them, and strange vegetables like fennel that force me to broaden my palate. My housemates are wonderful, and I can utter a genuine sigh of relief getting home to my cosy little room. It's heavenly.

Tonight I saw a play by the master director Peter Brook, and it was a good opportunity to reflect on how much I've learned over the past year and a half. When I first got to London and started seeing shows, I had a vague notion if any of what was good and bad in theater, and no real sense of how to describe what I liked or didn't like, or why. Now, I'm able to look at a work, and not only comment on it, but describe the particular things that didn't work, and even think of ways that they could be made better. In a program that prides itself on constantly pushing the limits of what we can do, it's easy to lose sight of how far we've come, and it's nice to have a reminder now and then.

(In case you were wondering, the Peter Brook piece was beautifully staged, and the actors all had good presence, but the rhythm was very flat, and a lot was explained that, I think, should have been shown through action. Plus the story wasn't interesting on a gut level. But that's just my opinion.)