NO SLEEP! NO SLEEP!

Dear Mr. Harvey Fancy Paws,
I need to blog so that the people who read this regularly know what I'm doing. And so I remember, since I've been terrible at journaling lately. I don't know what to write though...this experience is so big and I feel like my brain has been slowing and my body has reached a breaking point. At the very beginning I always had like 80 ideas in our Etude meetings...when we stopped doing etudes I was lucky if I had one to volunteer. Today in Ballet I could barely lift my right leg, and I had no arm strength to assits my poor dance partner in Ballet during lifts.
Everyone is a little...stressed. Emotionally, mentally, and physically. I think part of that has to do with the fact that we celebrated Thanksgiving last week...and that it is now December. We have been pushing for a long time, and now we are almost out of time. Final performances are approaching, and we are starting to feel the pressure to experience as much as possible while we can, even as it gets harder and harder to make ourselves get out of bed on our one free day during the week.
Last week I got a brazillion. Maybe that's an overshare, but I'm slightly proud. It's no big deal in the states where we all speak the same language and I know what to expect. But I had the Russian version this past week. Think about it.
And another incredible show. My favorite, Yury Batusov, directed King Lear with Konstantine Raikin as Lear. I honestly don't know how to explain it in this blog. It was the most creative interpretation of King Lear I've ever seen or heard of. The way that he dealt with the fool was so smart. And there were no villains, only victimes. He took one of Shakespeare's great tragedies and made it even more tragic by adding dimension to the characters that I never saw before. I got extremely lucky as far as seating. I went to the bathroom right before the show started, so when I came back to take m seat, a stressed usher hurried me to the nearest seat she could find, which happened to be 8 rows from the front of the stage, dead center. After seeing Raikin act, REALLY SEEING him, I can say that he is among the very best in the world. He's probably my favorite actor. What a good night; my favorite director and favorite actor.
Then there was Thanksgiving. It actually turned out beautifully. Everyone had their food assignments. I made a salad. A HUGE salad. And apparantly it was good because there was none left at the end of the evening. Actually, I must admit -- and don't take offense, family -- the food was better than usual for me. Maybe because there were better vegetarian options. Any way, I was extremely grateful for our beautiful food and the people I shared it with. But it wasn't as comfortable or warm as being home. Everyone had a good time, but there was an underlying sadness.
On Friday I saw the Pillow Man. I love that play, so when we learned that we had the chance to see it, I was among the many rushing to get tickets. I stood for the whole production, but it was totally worth it. The acting was really very good, ecspecially Ariel. He was exactly what I imagined Ariel should be, and then some. He was tragic, and hilarious, and scary. I know the play pretty well, so I was mostly just enjoying myself, but there were those who didn't know what they were walking into -- they had a very different, very disturbing experience. The most wonderful part of the play took place just after the "little Jesus" story and right before Ariel's monologue. The little Jesus shadows him around the stage, then places her crown of thorns on his head. She then goes downstage center and puts her arms up to make a cross, and Ariel shoulders her, and drags her off stage. Pure, perfect, visual poetry.
Saturday held every promise of being a great day and great night. And it was in a way. I went out to dinner, and that was great. Food is such a hurried thing here, that I really appriciated sitting down and ordering a meal. Afterwards the group went out to a club. Of course this is where things fell apart. The cost of admission, the time crunch imposed by our 1 am curfew caused everyone to scatter. I ended up at the old tried and true, Vinograd. Whatevs. Everyone was emotional, more so than usual since it was fueled by alcohol. Around 3 am this culminated in a cathartic volcano erruption of emotion. By 4 or 4:30 I was in bed. By 10:30 am, Kirsten was knocking on my door, walking me up. She really should stop doing that.
Sunday was a tired, incredibly unproductive day. That night we went to the circus.
I hate circuses. I really do. I'm revolted and heartbroken when I see the animals. Tigers don't belong on a podium, posing for pictures with children grabbing all over them. Bears don't belong in ice skates and hocky masks. It's sick. And I get that it's for kids -- but why make a show with no artistic merit whatsoever? Kenya and I sat down for the second act, and thirty seconds into it, she turned to me and said, "You wanna go? Let's go." And we did.
Stretching right now is like trying to stretch a piece of wood. So I'm going to go work on that a bit before rehearsal.
I'm tired, and stressed, and not always happy. But then sometimes I'm more happy than I've ever been...and for the first time I feel a sense of satisfaction and contentment with the low moments as well. Because I'm learning, I'm growing, even when I feel like I'm about to fall apart. It means that this experience is worth something.
I'm eating frozen black berries while I use the bag to ice my hand on which I just accidently dumped hot tea while I listen to Aida. So you see, though I complain, there is much to be happy about.
Paka.
Hannah

This one is advisable, that one is recommended, and that one is...absolutely delicious.

Things you can buy at the Russian Flee Market...

Little things I don't want to forget...Stealing Justin's cookies.

I'm Sure Marcin wants credit for this picture. So there.

Marianna and the Ithaca boys.

Little dog in a track suit.

Melikhovo...no wonder Chekhov wrote what he did.

Me and Chekhov.

Tverskya.

Dear Mr. Harvey Fancy Paws,
It’s been so long. Last Sunday I wrote about my mom cause she’s wonderful, but I didn’t talk about anything else. So there is much to report.
We saw Ivanov at MXAT on Friday the 13th. There is so much to say about this…some things are just hard to communicate. Okay, so this play was directed by my absolute favorite director, Yury Butusov.
A few words about Yury Butusov. I LOVE, love, love his plays. He directed Richard III, Hamlet, Man = Man, and Ivanov. His style is a cross between a beautiful dream and terrible nightmare. He uses sound in a haunting way. The world he creates on stage is so intriguing – there are textures, sounds, and stunning images that create an extremely emotional response while your brain works to understand what it is seeing. Obviously there is intention behind his plays, but the plays themselves are so aggressive that I envision a painter throwing buckets of acrylic paint onto a huge canvas, then gathering found objects and adding them into the mix. And his genius lies in the fact that it all fits. It’s just intuitively evocative and wonderful.
So, he guest directed Ivanov for MXAT. Before a show opens, it must be approved. Smelianski was the one who gave the go ahead for this show…which might raise some eyebrows in the community. Butusov decided to deconstruct Chekhov in this production. This Ivanov goes backwards, and pretty much at the end of every scene, Ivanov shoots himself. Chekhov is such a big deal in Russia, that to take apart what he wrote will probably really upset some people. But as Smelianski said, you can’t hurt Chekhov. His plays are already in the books, they aren’t going to be erased by this off-the-wall interpretations of one of his plays.
I personally adored it. And it made sense to me. Granted, I understand very, very little. I think each scene was an exploration of why Ivanov killed himself. We saw that in every scene, he died a little. The entire play was about the destruction of this man’s life. I felt the tragedy of this very sharply at the end of the play when we saw Ivanov at the beginning. He didn’t kill himself at the end of that scene…rather, it seemed he was trying to build something. The set was a pile of sticks and logs. He was collecting logs and dragging them into a pile with obvious effort. I saw a man with a real intention, with the desire to create a life, to build something. And I only saw this after he had been destroyed over and over.
Sunday the 15th was my mom’s birthday. That same day we went to Melikhovo, Chekhov’s estate. It was not as inspiring or interesting as I had hoped. The tour was excessively detailed. I don’t actually need to know what sort of ink Chekhov kept in his study. I met cats there however. One cat in particular rocked my world a little bit…She was a very nice koshka, however, she literally only had one eye. Her fur was patchy, and she had what I guess could be called a tail. She was so nice and friendly, but I was actually terrified of her. According to Marianna, she was pregnant, so I fed her a little bit. Poor kitty. I hope her babies have an easier life than she had.
That same night I learned how to make borsch and cold cookies. Marianna is teaching us how to feed ourselves the Russian way. I can now make Borsch, Palmini, cold cookies, and garlic bread. Just you wait till I get back to the states. I should open a restaurant. I’m also discovering just how much I enjoy cooking. I’m also discovering how much work it is.
Then, on the 17th I had the great pleasure of seeing ANOTHER Yury Butusov creation. I saw Brecht’s “Man = Man.” Good lord. First of all, I really like Brecht. I was thinking a bit about how Butusov seems to fall more under Artough’s philosophy of theater…which is to create a very emotional and evocative performance in order to affect the audience. Brecht, as we all know, is the exact opposite. He wants the audience to be constantly aware of the fact that they are in a theater. He wants them to think and intellectually understand what they are seeing. Both philosophers thought that their form of theater had the capability to change the world. Seeing these two great philosophies brought together so gracefully in a single production made me weep. Literally. There was a man on stage singing to the audience. His voice sounded like the combination of a cement mixer and wood breaking (and it was beautiful to me), his head was bleeding, and he was wearing a blanket of flowers. There was a half-naked man perched like some kind of beautiful monster on top of ladder, not moving, and I could see the inside of a fake elephant’s head, also sitting on top of ladder. It wasn’t sad, and I didn’t know what was going on, but I was crying because I was just so enthralled with what I was watching.
This might be an inflammatory statement, but I don’t think theater like this exists in the United States. If it does, I haven’t found it. In Russia, people pay to see this sort of art every single night. And I was crying because it was so wonderful to me, and I felt so blessed to be here, in Russia, seeing what I know I can never explain in a satisfactory way. And here, the people in the audience clap together because they can feel the other people in the audience. And they bring flowers to the stage after the show. I just…I just believe that this is what theater should be. And I wish I could make you all understand why it moves me so much.
AND ALL OF A SUDDEN it was Friday. We went to see Varekai, the Cirque Du Soleil show. Marcin and I had acting class at the dorm, so we were on our own to find our way there…which turned out to be more stressful than one would expect. But we made it with only a little bit of panic. I was audibly gasping and screaming during the entire show – I mean, it was incredible. Animals are born instinctively knowing what to do with their bodies. The human body has to be taught…but seeing what people are capable of with enough training, blows the mind. I feel like, as someone who is constantly pushing my body to do more, I appreciated what I was seeing even more than the average person. I mean, for God’s sake, I was having problems jumping over a chair that same day in movement, and I was watching ten year olds flipping over each other.
There is one more thing to write about that I haven’t been able to stop thinking about the entire time I’ve been typing. But I also don’t know what to say about it. Something happened to me in acting class yesterday. I don’t know yet if it was good or bad. Every actor has an emotional break down in acting class every now and then. But it is not common for a teacher to capitalize on this they way Alex did. We did our scene and it was bad. I began to explain my frustration with myself and I began to cry. We continued to work, and my teacher kept pushing and pushing and yelling and yelling…till I was quite literally sobbing on stage. And we kept working. And kept working. And he kept yelling, and kept yelling, and kept provoking me to become more and more upset. For two hours I bawled on stage…not just cried a little, but sobbed. At one point I was hiding under my scarf just because I couldn’t stand having everyone watch me while I melted. The problem was, that it wasn’t sadness engendered by the scene, it was my own real sadness. On the one hand, I understand now what it feels like to be more open and vulnerable on stage than I ever, ever have. I should be that open on stage. And I understand now that if I cry in a scene, it has to be ME crying. Whatever I experience, it should be ME experiencing it. But there is still something that must be kept in reserve…a part of myself that is observing, that is aware, that is enjoying whatever emotional trip I am on. And that wasn’t there in class. It was 100% Hannah as a person dying on stage. And I can’t help but feel that my teacher was wrong keep provoking me long after his point was made...but maybe it was necessary for me to go there at least once to know what it feels like to let that part of me go. And I also know that because I did it, part of me wanted to go there. I know that no matter how much my teacher intimidates me, he cannot force me to do anything, and I could have left the stage. And I have to admit, that I am proud that I stayed and was willing to face whatever came my way. That I stayed and worked, even though it hurt so badly. I've never experienced anything like it...and I don't think I've ever seen someone else experience anything like it. I don't know what it means. I haven’t fully processed what happened and I don’t know what exactly I have learned or if I will be any better the next time I run the scene. I’m questioning what it means to be an actor in general…I’ve always had lofty views…a strong philosophy about what it means to be an artist. But really, it’s just words. As far understanding goes…I mean really understanding in my bones…I’m very lost. There is a sense of entitlement in American theater. We get to protect ourselves a lot…we can expect to be treated a certain way. But if you choose to sacrifice your life to art, what exactly must you give up? To be on stage is to be emotionally naked for a living. How much of myself do I get to protect, and how much must I give away?
After class we went to see Cherry Orchard. I was completely drained and I ended up leaving early and going to sleep. I woke up later because I wanted to be around people. Thanks friends who helped me get over my emotional hang-over. And thanks to people in that acting class who cried with me while I was working and came up to hug me after. Thanks Anthony, for suffering on stage with me. Thank you, Marcin, for listening to me muse about my confusion while you shared your icy-hot with me. I’m afraid of acting right now, but I feel less afraid because of the people who are on this journey with me. What would I do without you?
I didn’t reread this blog at all. I’m sorry for any errors, or things that don’t make sense.

Hannah

Моя Правда

Dear Russia,
I just had an inspirational talk with Justin and it inspired me to write a blog that came more from the heart. So here I go. Firstly, I want to thank my friends that are on this trip with me (Justin and Hannah especially). I could not be happier that I have friends that dedicate any moment they can to their own self improvement. We have seen each other’s lows, and now we’re beginning to see each other’s highs, and soon, I’m sure, we’ll be seeing each other’s lows once again. It’s motivated and driven friends like these that I have always tried to surround myself around, friends that remind me that it isn’t about only the high’s and the low’s—and that friendship is not based on them either. I appreciate that they have never given me an excuse for sucking in class and instead they inspire me to work harder by simply allowing the process of “sucking” to be experienced—they recognize that the process is what’s important—and chocolate and cookies and a weekend night of mischief. Thanks for all that.
Ok. Alexander Rezalin AKA Sasha—is my acting teacher here at MXAT. I believe that sometimes I learn just as much about acting from watching him teach acting than actually getting up and doing it. Sasha is a man who gives more heart, soul and energy than one could think possible—enough to shed a tear sometimes. At one point during a scene in class, as he looked directly in the eyes of a student, he emphatically said, “I am your teacher...and YOU are my Student…and I want to give YOU…EVERYTHING… that I have…(pause)…” Of course this is much more beautiful when you understand that this man may have been dying inside only because he was searching for any ONE way to communicate ONE THOUGHT—and it was all that much more heartbreaking because he was doing it in his broken (yet improving) English. What a barrier language can be when trying to communicate—whether you speak that same language or not. There is something in this moment that I feel I cannot explain accurately enough. What is noticeable in Sasha is that he demands EVERYTHING from us as well…and we want to give it to him. It’s not a demand in the sense that it is unfair—in fact it is expected and even unquestioned. In fact, if you can imagine a world where the word “expected” didn’t exist—that would be what we must do. Oh yes! Here’s the word—we must be.
One can tell that Sasha has many sleepless night toiling over how to inspire his students into a state of enlightenment. He doesn’t let down, nor does he probably get much sleep. However, Sasha’s passion is only one example of the passion that I witness on a daily basis. We have Anatoly Smeliansky who every week deeply delves into his Russian culture and brings out what he believes is the core of the Russian people—the core of their passion and drive to move forward. Each show he sends us to has some deeper meaning—he doesn’t send us to see a deconstructed IVANOV simply to sit down and enjoy a play. He’s allowing us to experience Russian Theatre History in the making. Chekhov has been a celebrated writer for nearly 150 years now and he sends us to a play where this classical play has been completely deconstructed—It’s like seeing Oedipus Rex or Hamlet done backwards and half of the scenes cut out. He’s teaching us something about art—that art is much more than just us—what his lesson is though I’m still attempting to find out. He said something quite brilliant the other day, “Chekhov doesn’t care what you do to his play. His play will always live on—it’s in the library and that can’t be changed.” Then he explained, “Don’t worry—everything will be the same as it was before—This is the drama of Chekhov.”
With all this in mind, with all the wealth of information that splatters against my body every day, one could say that I have obviously learned many many many things in Russia. I’ve learned about Russian history, I’ve learned about acting theory and practice, I’ve learned about body control, I’ve learned what it is to experience a DaVinci, Rafaello,and Machaelangello painting, and I’ve even learned that how to cook some tasty Russian food—but all this profound knowledge has come stems from one thing… an individual passion for life and the pursuit of something greater than ourselves. I believe that theatre is powerful, and fortunately for me I’ve never believed it more in my life and I think it’s worth the sleepless nights, it’s worth being self-conscious, it’s worth suffering, it’s worth being misunderstood, and it’s worth being humiliated for just the chance to give someone one moment of honest life. One would be enough—Brecht believed that one play could solve all the world problems—so can acting.
Hannah and I were once sitting in class and we saw Sasha’s bag open. In his bag there was an opened box of assorted chocolates and an English to Russian dictionary... We just smiled at each other and then continued to watch Sasha work.

большой Breakthroughs

Dear Charlotte,

What a week! This week has been amazingly eye opening for me as an actor and an artist. The week started off much like any other Moscow week, with a wonderfully painful movement class followed by a day full of knowledge and strenuous activities. It began to seem like the same old drudge of a week that would eventually have me in my bed on friday night, wishing my body wasn't collapsing in on itself like a dying star. However, things began to click. I had a great acting class this where I decided to rethink and redo an etude. I had done it before in class on a whim and this time I sat down and thought out every single moment through from the beginning to end and worked it like a dog. I threw it up in front of our class and our teacher acknowledged the improvements and told me that he was very pleased with the amount of work I'd had put into it. Then it clicked. I remembered everything from my two years at IC all in one moment. I was able to put all that info together and have found my way back on track, and just in time with 4 more weeks to go.

Today we took a two hour bus ride to Melikhovo, otherwise known as the estate owned by Anton Chekhov. Being outside of Moscow was a breath of fresh air in much different way than St. Petersburg was. The rural Russia you've seen in pictures is exactly as expansive and empty as it seems. Looking off into the distance made it seem like it was hundreds of miles to the next sign of civilization. Besides the not so perfect weather and the lack of anything exciting, Melikhovo was very nice. Seeing Chekhov's study was very neat and seeing the house in which he finished the Seagull was an experience. However, I didn't necessarily feel connected to seeing the kitchen house where the maids lived and worked. It seemed like Melikhovo was banking on the fact that the weather is nice when you are there, because it was dreary as hell.

On the bus ride home we stopped at a monastery on the outskirts of Moscow. This particular monastery, whose name escapes me at the moment, was described to as a place with a beautiful view and even more beautiful chapel. What also made this monastery notable was it's small pond located in the very middle of the enclosure. We had been told earlier in the week that this pond was a place for pilgrims and the monks who lived there to bath and cleanse their souls from sin and illness. It was a beautiful place, serene and stoic in nature. I was immediately brought back to the first time we walked on to the MXAT stage. The beauty of the space and the vastness of the theatre blew me away. It was hard not to be astounded by it.

I've come to realize a lot about Russian Theatre these past few weeks, what with St. Petersburg, Melikhovo and Class, that I really believe in and can't wait to bring back to the states. Firstly, that the Theater is a sacred space. Because of religious suppression during the Soviet Union the people went to the theatre to connect with people. It sound far fetched, I know, but Theatre here is a religion. You have sacred texts written by many different writers, Chekhov being the most dominant of Russian Playwrights. Actors are seen as civil servants who have given their lives to pursuing a hard life of serving the people through their talent, passion and art. Being at the monastery reminded me of that. The students of MXAT, much like the monks, have devoted their lives to an endless journey. They have decided to take a leap of faith and follow their hearts into the unknown life of hard work and toil that is being an actor.

I've learned from stories about my uncles, who were missionaries in Kenya, about how much they learned throughout their work and about how they continued learning about themselves and about their chosen life journey. As an actor you are constantly learning and experiencing different things, emotions, people, places and ways of looking at the world. It's hard life and basically it's a vow of poverty, but you have a gift that people need and crave, so you keep on pushing onwards and honing your beliefs and your crafts in order to more precisely experience the different beautiful things on this blue sphere we live on. You never stop working, and that's a beautiful thing. Norm Johnson, our movement teacher and BFA Acting Coordinator at school used to say that Acting is a muscle and if you don't use that muscle for a while, you lose it. Actors need to be constantly taking things in and experiencing them, honing their craft and working the muscle.

I'm sorry for the amount of religion used in this blog, it's just hard not to think about God while you're in Russia. It's full of churches and monasteries, all of which are amazingly beautiful. Anatoly Smeliansky, our amazing Russian Theatre History Professor...oh and he's also the Dean of the MXAT School Studio...no big deal. ANYWAY, Tolya, as we call him, said something very poetic about acting and theatre. He said, "Acting is connecting to the audience through a higher power." Through some kind of higher being that transports you and the audience far away from the hardships of life and from the harsh realities that are just a stones throw away from the box office. The one thing that I'm taking the most to heart in Russia is that it takes a lot to be an actor, a lot more than I initially thought. With that in mind however, I have never been more ready and willing to work and work and work in my entire life.

Eternally Yours,

Justin

P.S. Marcin is not kidding about the Metro. It's so cool and fascinating.

Hannechka, Justushka, Marchushka

Dear Friends,

One more month left in Russia...too soon to leave. I still feel as if I haven't done enough even though I've been more productive here than I usually am in my life back in the states--this mentatlity of constant and continual self-betterment is something I promise won't leave me when I get back.

Russia is a little overwhelming for my mind right now. I'm not really sure where to start.

I'm in a silly mood soo...here we go.

Soooo I left my house on Saturday to go with my friends to this bar called the Real Maccoy (very Russian name, I know), and obviously to get there you have to take the metro. So the metro is one, beautiful. Two, its crowded. Three, Four and Five, its the best place to get into a fight, get pickpocketed, or to enter staring competition with a russian from an adjacent car. Imagine entering a well warmed building crowded with rushing (russian, haha) people--and as you push forward you peal your eyes to the back of your friends neck hoping you don't lose them amongst the crowd. Ironically enough, even though your eyes are fixated on your friends distinguishing peacoat in front of you, you are actually paying more attention to your backpack that's behind you--cuz Americans just don't seem to understand that a backpack is the easiest thing to steal things from--maybe we realize it--but I guess we're just too stubborn to change our ways.

;) Then you get on an escalator and seriously, no joke, you go down this huge tunnel for three minutes. As you descend, you have a beautiful russian couple making out in front of you, (jealous [ish]), and then a business man with his suitcase and listening to his Ipod. At this time you are also sweating, a little less than profusely, because of all the layers that kept you alive during the ALMOST HERE Moscovite winter outside. As you approach the bottom of the escalator, you literally, no joke, no exaggeration, you enter the Hall of the Mountain King. It's like a Dwarves underground majestic Hall--something like from lord of the rings--just without precious rings--but kind of.

:) The point is, that there is another world below us in Moscow. What fascinates me the most is that Russians think this is normal. I mean, the people here are so used to it--it's an underground World with a train that shows up almost precisely every minute of the hour to transport you to any point in Moscow--every stop has its own huge history. NO BIG DEAL right? No. It is a big deal and I'm getting used to it too--it just becomes a part of you and your everyday life--the history just kind of envelopes you--there's literally nothing like it in the world.

So anyway...I got to this bar and they didn't want the Americans to enter without paying a "cover fee"...which is really more of a bribe. :) That was the end of that night.

Next Time,

ABOUT PETERSBURG

Marcin

November 15

Dear Mr. Harvey Fancy Paws,
Today, November 15 is my mother's birthday. I wish I could be there to tell her in person how much I love her, but instead I will write and homage to her in my blog.
Some girls dread that they will turn into their mothers; I on the other hand, hope and pray that one day I will become half the woman my mother is. I have never met someone with more kindness in her heart in addition to being beautiful, frighteningly smart, and extremely talented. My mother could have done anything with her life. She could have used her talents to gain power or wealth. Instead, she has devoted her life to helping others. I know for a fact that there are people whose lives she has touched that probably think of her every single day. Sometimes she hears about it, but most of the time she doesn't. I also know that my mom isn't getting the kind of birthday she deserves. But she reads this blog. Hopefully you'll read this today so that it functions as a sort of card. I'm sending you a long distance hug. Love you.
Hannah

Я люблю Петербург Ho мое сердце принадлежит к Москва

Dear Mr. Harvey Fancy Paws,
I’m sitting in my room fighting the desire to eat more of Justin’s cookies (which he doesn’t know but probably assumes I’ve been taking all night) while I eat a lemon with honey in addition to, but separate from my jasmine green tea. It’s a Wednesday. I’m writing midweek since we were in Saint Petersburg Saturday and Sunday. So, let us rewind to last week.
First of all, it snowed. Two days of beautiful, perfect snow that I didn’t even bother to photograph, since it wouldn’t have done any justice to the real thing. You know, I’m trying to remember everything that happened last week, and it’s difficult – that’s why I shouldn’t wait this long before blogging. I know that I saw a show called Existence No. 2…I really had a hard time being awake for that one, though when I was conscious, it was lovely. Russia leaves little time for sleep, which has forced me to become very creative in the ways in which I keep myself awake in shows and lecture classes. I eat a lot of mints and bite my fingers, drink a lot of water, and whenever possible, send blood to my head by going into an inversion. So, you’d think that when I get the chance, I would go to be early. You would be wrong if you did in fact think that. No, instead I spend my nights in the kitchen doing impromptu etudes till 3am.
I should mention that acting class has gotten a bit better, now that we are actually working with scripts. At least I sort of know what to do with that. There is this interesting thing happening…we are being directed more than coached – at least with the teacher I am working with (we have two). I wish I had more freedom to discover things on my own. Still, acting has become fun again, and that’s huge. And singing class has suddenly become very fun for me. Movement is still my favorite, though Ballet is a close second. And I’m really enjoying singing now-a-days. The coolest thing about Russia is that not only are you allowed to do pretty much whatever you want within your training, it’s expected. I wasn’t having fun singing songs that I was told to sing in class, so I started finding my own. The same is true to an extent in acting class. And in movement, you can do pretty much whatever you are willing to push yourself to do.
On Friday we finished with acting class and scurried home to pack and buy snacks for the train. We left at like…10:15 pm. We took the metro to the Train Station and boarded around 12 am. I’ve never traveled by train before…let alone by sleeper train. It’s very claustrophobic, fairly unsanitary, and totally cool. Obviously we didn’t sleep very much. I was up till 2 am doing nothing too productive and missing opportunities to be productive. We got off the train at 6:30 am when everything was still dark and trouped to our nearby Hostel – the Puppet Hostel. It was also my first hostel experience. It involved a lot of dust. We couldn’t check in when we got there, so we stored our stuff in the luggage room. I used the shower and made myself sort of presentable for the day, then climbed onto a bus for a tour of Petersburg.
Saint Petersburg is beautiful. The history there blows my mind…I remember learning Russian History in school and feeling a combination of awe, terror, and fascination. Physically being in the middle of that history was a little overwhelming. I especially felt this during our visit to the winter Palace. I can’t quite wrap my brain around the power that used to reside in that palace. I’m struggling here to express myself in an even remotely articulate way. Imagine your footsteps echoing in the ballrooms; imagine feeling the cold through the walls, the babushka glaring at you from the corner, the blurry view through the warped glass windows, and priceless world treasures to your left and to your right. Just look at the pictures.
After our tour of the Petersburg and the winter Palace, we were left to fend for ourselves. We made our way through the cold, cold, cold streets back to the hostel. We stopped several times to ask for directions…mostly because Marcin seemed to enjoy it.
I had a lovely nap, woke up, got ready, and made the unfortunate mistake of going to a Mexican restaurant for dinner. Mexican-Russian fusion isn’t great. The strawberry margarita however, was divine.
Because it was Sarah Jane’s birthday, we were supposed to go to a club called ‘Pierre’s.’ Pierre’s either doesn’t exist or it is invisible. Cause that didn’t happen. We went somewhere else where I got and Irish coffee and watched Russians dance through the glass floor. Russians don’t dance the way Americans do. They don’t move their hips. I watched a relationship drama unfold on the dance floor. It was a wonderful observation…I was taking mental notes for my acting the whole time. Then home and to bed.
We woke up at about 7 am and packed, showered, all that jazz, and ate a very unsatisfying breakfast. Then back on the buss and to the Summer Palace. I slept on the way there, and when I awoke, I was in the most beautiful fairy tale. It was a winter paradise, and the Summer Palace itself was just as, if not more beautiful than the Winter Palace. Again, see the pictures.
We bussed home and were gifted with more free time. I went to lunch with Kirsten, Lizzie, Kylie, Kenya, and Austin. It was delicious, relaxing, and complimented with drinks. Then, I’m sorry Mom, I went shopping. BUT I WAS FREEZING. I bought another coat. A perfect coat. The Coat of my dreams. I’m sorry I spent that money, but it was so very worth it. Just wait till you see the pictures. Then to see Hamlet. I don’t want to write about Hamlet. Someone else can do that.
Then some Middle Eastern cuisine for dinner, which was actually quite tasty and cheap, and then back on the train. I was not a happy camper at this point. Nastia and I had the deep misfortune of sharing a compartment with a foul, mean-spirited man. He was not happy about the American sharing his train compartment and decided that this was Nastia’s fault. He called her all sorts of really vile things (in Russian) and made the atmosphere decidedly unpleasant for the duration of the train ride.
Monday morning we got of the train and took the metro back home – had a brief break, and then went to Theater History and then to Acting. How’s that for an anticlimactic ending?
Fin.
Hannah

A Phoenix Rising

Dear Charlotte,

I won't lie to you. The training here has pushed me in so many different and difficult directions as an actor and as a person. The day in and day out physical and emotional strain of the program here has begun to take its toll. Walking the 2 miles home everyday has started to become amazingly difficult after busting my ass in Ballet, Russian Movement, Stage Combat and Acting. I thank God that my body has been able to last these five weeks. However, with seven more to go, I am hopeful that my body will be up to the task of carrying me on through those weeks to come.

I've been struggling a lot in acting class lately, Charlotte. Since the acting training is so hard here it's easy to lose sight of what acting is actually about rather than creating work that satisfies the need of an assignment. I had started creating work that wasn't satisfying to me and was not receiving positive feedback. I had hit a wall, a plateau of sorts, in my work and was struggling to find what works for me as an actor. This was very off-putting. I'm here in Moscow for 3 months and right now is the time for growth as an artist. So after 5 weeks of plateauing, the time had come for a change of place.

It was Halloween and on a whim I signed up to see a production of Richard III. Thankfully Marcin and Hannah, two of my favorite artistic strugglers at the time, had signed up before me and were excited to see something invigorating and inspiring as much as I was. The show was playing at Satiricon, a theatre managed by the most famous actor currently performing in Moscow, Konstantin Raikin. Satiricon is also infamously far away from the center of Moscow. So in order to get to there we had to take two different subways, followed by a shuttle bus, then accompanied by a 10 to 15 minute walk to the theatre itself. Being so far removed from MXT and then American Studio was a godsend, I felt so removed from my recent shortcomings as an artist. I felt so free from the walls of the artistic box I had put myself in, almost as if I had walked into some serene solitude within the confines of my so called artistic box.

The show itself was one of the most beautiful things I've ever seen, as well as one of the most powerful. The set was made up of oversized furniture and little animals that looked liked poorly drawn sketches done by a child. Throughout the entire show Richard, played by Raikin, paraded around the stage hopping from oversized door to oversized table, sharing conversations with poorly drawn crows and even uglier penguins. Every time a character was killed it was done in an unconventional way. Clarence for example, was stabbed to death by two henchmen throwing glasses of wine on him, soaking his white shirt until it was a deep red. They then proceeded to clean the stage as if wiping up Clarence's blood. BRILLIANT.

The show climaxed at the part where the ghosts of those killed by Richard returned to visit him in his sleep. The entire scene was done with no dialogue. As every character came onstage, a heavy snowfall began. Richard rises from his bed and in terror and takes his place on an oversized chair, standing. As all the ghosts arrive, they all sit facing Richard, waving to him. It is at this moment that Richard speaks the infamous first monologue, "Now is the winter of our discontent, Made glorious summer by this sun of York..." I wish I could say I wasn't crying. I wish.

After the show I felt so inspired to go work and to be creative. I was inspired to create, to perform, to train, to stretch myself and to love the art in myself. It was such a needed experience, and I will be forever in debt to that show for re-inspiring me in a time of self doubt and exhaustion as an artist. Much like Marcin wrote about in is last post, I feel like a phoenix rising from the ashes, reborn. I passed my plateau and have reached a new level of artistry and I am excited to continue to explore that new level with passion, focus, energy and love.

Forever Yours,

Justin

Galloween and Swine

Dear Mr. Harvey Fancy Paws,

I am le tired. It has been a difficult week in acting class. One of our teachers scares me quite a bit and things have gotten progressively more….abusive? A strong word, but I think it fits. Trying to explain to non-artists what this sort of thing feels like is impossible. I suck right now, once I was a good actress but I am no longer.
It snowed this week. It’s so pretty…so cold, but it makes my heart so warm. I was falling asleep on the window ledge in the American studio green room, looking out at the other roof tops during a break, feeling glad about my life. My near sleep brain became very poetic and I thanked whatever powers that be for the “ocean of steely gray sky against dilapidated red brick and tin.” The swirling snow outside makes it feel more like Christmas than Halloween.
Any way. This week I saw the play “Damon” directed by Demitri Krimov. The space was like a lighthouse; long and cylindrical, and the audience all sat in boxes. We didn’t get seats, so we were literally crouched on the catwalk at the very top of the space looking down at the heads of the actors. The show was extremely interesting, even from a bird’s eye view. The stage was covered in layers and layers of paper which the actors painted on, ripped up, and molded into other shapes. Example: the actors cam out with long brushes on sticks and buckets of paint, and they painted large naked figures on the stage representing Adam and Eve. Then one of the actors dipped his fingers in some paint and gave Eve a beautiful seductive mouth…he then picked up a bull-whip (cue snake sound effects) and began to move the whip as if it were a snake. He poked a small hole in Eve’s paper mouth and threaded the whip through it. Then all at once, he yanked the whip and ripped down the full length of Eve’s paper body. He began to wildly swing the whip, thrashing the paper and destroying both Adam and Eve completely. Meanwhile, epic orchestra music is wailing in the background and the entire stage is a blur of flying paper. Then the storm ends and the actors rush out to wad the paper into a giant ball. Confetti starts sprinkling down towards the stage, and suddenly there is a paper snowball fight happening… and so on and so on. It was a beautiful spectacle, very intelligently done.
On Friday we toured the Moscow Art Theater itself. It’s the most impressive theater I’ve ever seen. They have everything you could ever desire in a space; when they go on tour, they have to redesign their shows because there really are no theaters that share all the capabilities of the Moscow Art Theater. There is something so special about an empty stage. The air is still pregnant from last night’s catharsis. Almost all theaters share a similar smell; it’s the combination of dust, paint, cut wood, heat, and bodies. There are the irregular bricks painted black to match the black floor – the random bits of graffiti and stray flecks of paint; the forgotten pieces of glitter and confetti pushed into the corners by the brooms. Little things with a whole other reality attached to them. It makes me want to cry when I think about it.
That night I was supposed to see Medea, but the director did not appreciate Americans in the audience. The Angel who guided us there was sneaking us inside in groups of between 1 and 5 people under strict instruction not to speak English. A bunch of us ended up just going home since it wasn’t really working out to get everyone a seat. Honestly, I think it’s very telling about the director; a director should be confident enough in his work to trust that his vision will ring true to the audience even without understanding the language.
That same day we were struck with the swine flu crisis; a first year Russian student was diagnosed with Swine flue, prompting everyone to pretty much go crazy. The funny thing is, they don’t just quarantine people who are sick, they totally separate us to the best of their ability based on nationality. Thus was our Halloween party sort of ruined, since none of the Russians were allowed to attend.
Before the party last night, I saw Richard III. Oh. My. God. Imagine if Tim Burton was like way better than he actually is and he decided to come up with the design concept for that play; then imagine the best acting you’ve ever seen on that same stage. That was my night. Reikin is an extremely famous actor and teacher. He played Richard; he’s probably the best actor I’ve ever seen. The end. The sound design was great too….I loved that they played “Goodnight Baby” while they killed people on stage. I love that they jumped around on giant marshmallow parachute mattress for a whole chunk of the play. It’s really difficult to describe these things in word…I’m struggling to find the right thing to say, so I’m going to move on to other topics. Yeah, Halloween was nothing too special. I actually had more fun after the party was over.
Today I am going too see Swan Lake at the Bolshoi. Um. I can’t even begin to tell you how excited I am.
Love, love, love –
Hannah

The Little Big Things (pictures)

Buses (compare to the one before) Friends in cold weather, (pre-phoenix talk)
Snow :)

The most interesting picture I own. Lenin's Tomb, and to our left is Stalin's grave (You can see the three stone carved heads, he's the middle one). Just think about this for a second.

Metro

The Little Big Things

Hey Comrades,
Another day in Russia--actually, another two weeks in Russia. As you can probably guess its not easy to write about. However, Hannah managed to write a blog last week so I have to (1) wirte one for this week and (2) make mine better than hers for this week. ;) See, I already have an internal blog joke...its like an inside joke, but for blogs. hmmm...
Anywho,
We've already encountered our first snow in Moscow. I was actually surprised that we had snow (I know, you may think this is dumb) but that's because the mayor of Moscow has decided to put a certain chemical into the clouds that are approaching moscow which would force them to produce and dump their snow before arriving over Москва. When we heard about this everyone had some sort of freak out. I guess that's because the idea of putting chemicals in the clouds and then hoping that it wouldn't rain back down on us was somehow a daunting one. All in all, it still snowed, so I can't imagine imagine what the light, white flurry would be like without our man-made, mother nature controlling chemicals. Either way, Москва is beautiful, and the snow actually makes it feel more like home, (maybe that's cuz I'm from Ithaca and Colorado or it's because...) the fur hats, gloves and large jackets are coming out--the Russian style of winter is finally setting in-- and it feels goooooood.
Swine flu has come to MXAT. The school has taken precausions in order to protect the American Students--they have a week long quarantine where no russians students are aloud to interact with the american student--the idea is a good one--but like communism, and human nature in general--it's just not working. We still find time to smoke with Russain friends in the hallway and sneak in some fun time with them at the local discoteque. Actually, we all find it to be quite humorous due to the fact that if you walked into our dorm and up the stairs (avoiding touching the rails), you would see about, give or take, 3 russians with 3 amercans, two of which are wearing a face mask (the one that covers your nose and mouth, as if you were doing a surgery on someone), two of which had their face mask around their neck, one who "forgot" his upstairs and the last one who just really doesn't believe he/she will get swine flu. Funny. Yes? And we have to take two pills a day which boost our immune system provided by the MXAT school. They really take good care of us, and I can't thank them enough.
I took my weekly walk with Justin to the grocery store today to buy eggs (yaytsa, яйцо) and milk (malako, молоко) and we got to talking about how this is the time to lose it. This is the time to really dive in and hurt ourselves. I have a month and a half before I come back to the USA and I need to take advantage of every moment in every class. We saw Richard III yesterday and Richard was played by one of Russia's most famous actors--Konstantin Raikin. This was one of the most awe inspiring performances I have ever seen. I believed every movement, every breath, every smile, and every moment of silence. Sad thing (and amazing thing) is that Raikin, albeit the most famous actor in Russia (who teaches at MXAT) is still considered to be second in talent--to who?-- his father, the famous soviet actor of the last century. Justin told me how when Raikin was in school for acting he would work on personal Etudes (scenettes) until 2 or 3 am in the morning and then get his partners to rehearse the scene. People considered him to be an animal. The passion and drive this man had and HAS is phenomenal--and you can tell that that passion still lives inside of him, even after being as famous as he already is. It's time to be an animal--dig deep, sleep less, for the greater good of achieving something worthwhile, something worth sharing, worth experiencing.
Tonight I'm seeing "Swan Lake" at the Балшой (Balshoi) Theatre. This is our "Phoenix Rising" as Justin would call it. I might cry I'll be so inspired. I figure though, a phoenix can't only be inspired to rise, it takes effort and an immense want of life....
ok. Peace and Love,
Marcin

Almost all the leaves have dropped

Dear Mr. Harvey Fancey Paws,
It's Sunday, of course. It's colder today. The leaves have mostly dropped off the trees. I'm absolutely in love with the view from my dorm window -- it overlooks the park, the one Marcin posted pictures of -- and the fruit stand. On a Sunday it's like a scene from a European art flick. Lots of yellow leaves, mothers with baby prams, tiny people bundled from head to foot chasing pigeons, people walking dogs, and lovers strolling.
It was a weird week. I think my body has finally started to feel the strain of never sleeping enough. Early in the week we saw "Woe from Wit" performed by the graduate students. They're a very impressive bunch. I was underwhelmed with the beginning of the show, not because the acting wasn't great -- mostly because I was just too sleep deprived to get excited about anything less than spectacular. Spectacular happened later on when the chorus got involved. I'm actually very curious about choruses; I don't know very much about it, but I've never seen a chorus I didn't like. There is something so incredibly powerful about a unified ensemble voice and body, and when you can marry that with a strong individual character, the end result is enthralling. Other than that, I didn't see any shows. It's my fault for not signing up to see any. Stupid me. Oh, except for last night. We saw one of our acting teachers in a farcical comedy about a play going horribly wrong. The show itself was okay; it was funny but nothing monumental. Sasha however, was extremely enjoyable to watch. Maybe I loved his performance because I love him so much, but either way, I enjoyed myself. I would like to explain my teachers better via this blog, but I feel like the only way to accurately describe them is through impressions. They are both such characters...with very different views on acting. Sometimes when Alex and Sasha start arguing in class, I feel like a little kid sitting at the top of the stairs listening to my parents fight -- and I don't know whose side to take. It's very confusing. Like everything in that class. I'm sure any actor reading this will know what I'm talking about when I say this -- I'm going through one of those phases when I feel like I know nothing, and I can't do anything. I'm not on a plateau; I'm getting worse. I've been journaling a lot, trying to figure out what is going on, trying to tell myself that I like the frustration because it means I'm being challenged. I've realized that Ithaca is actually very focused on training their actors physically. And I like that; I think it really works. But when you are doing a new etude every single day and you don't have a script to analyze...things get a little hazy. When I have a script, I can tear it apart and find the character, love them, pick out objectives, tactics, and write in my subtext; then I take my friends -- laban, rasas, bioenergetics, and so on and so on -- and make something cohesive. When I make an etude I function as writer, director, and actor...and without thinking I just start doing stuff, ussually physical stuff, as I try to "create" my etude. And in these instances I am not being vulnerable, and I'm not motivating everything in an organic way, I'm just throwing myself around on stage and it sucks. But obviously I know what the problem is...and in theory I know what I should do to fix it. But theories are bullshit, pardon my french. (I don't understand that idiom. There is nothing french about the word "bullshit," in fact, I can't really think of anything more American) I wish that someone could give me something tangible to focus on, because looking at everything from an intellectual standpoint is making me mildly suicidal. kidding. Was that in poor taste?
So yeah. Yesterday was a very hard day in Acting, so I wisely decided to take it easy and not go out last night. I ate my feelings and observed the drunks when they came back at curfew. I'm sure I've mentioned the Babuski before -- they let us in and out. In the dorms, the halls and kitches are all under survelance, and the babushki sit in front of the monitors. I know for a fact that many interesting things happen under the eyes of the babuski, specially on the weekends. I think that would be fascinating job. If acting doesn't work out, I'm coming back to Russia to be a Babuska. Kirsten's roomie was drunk, and because of her aversion to vomit, she slept in my room. Kenya was a very emotional drunk -- something about lost pasta was making her cry. So she ended up sleeping in my bed too, though she got up and vanished sometime around 7 am.
And ALL OF A SUDDEN it was after noon. So we woke up and went to brunch. This time Kenya, Sam and Lizzie came with us. And that was good, and so was our trip to the grocery store, and so was the junk food I ate, and now, so is sitting in my room typing on this blog, sipping green tea and observing the park outside.
ANY WAY. This was a poorly constructed blog, but I'm not going to edit it. If you're lucky, I might spell check it in a second. This concludes my rant. The end.
Hannah

Russian Fall

Laundry, Roomate, Mood Lighting




Buses at Rest After a Busy Week

Fall

:) здравтвуйте (hello),

Well I lost my Blog due to the awesome internet connection I sometime have here. So i'll just post this. Cuz its better than nothing right?
I saw Dimitri Krimov yesterday. It was a legendary day. He stood behind me. Let's just remember this moment--cuz this was a moment I'll never forget. Funny, when he stood behind me, I mistook him for an average human being. Then I saw his show...well..haha.
;)
sorry that it's short.

Peace, Love and Frustration,
Marcin

Da. Het.

Kapustnick

Tverskya -- The street outside of the school
Dear Mr. Harvey Fancey Paws,
It's Sunday again! The only time I get to write on this thing. Kapustnick happend. I've decided to change my spelling of it. It was fun. It was totally weird going into this new, very tight community and participating as an outsider. I'm still not caught up on sleep from this crazy week.
On Monday I saw Tartuffe. I think I might be the only one who liked it...it made zero sense and was totally weird. For the first act I sat there with my mouth hanging open feeling a bit violated...but by the second act I warmed up. Imagine if Lady Gaga decided to direct Tartuffe without reading it first while trying to incoperate some softcore porn. But I love weird things...I even love unwarranted weird things. And I would just like to point out that no one fell asleep during that show, even though we were all extremely tired.
I did not get to see Pillow Man yesterday...the tickets were unavailable. I was extremely disapointed. My other big bummer is that I've somehow reawakend my back injury. Movement is probably my favorite class, and my back is the most flexible part of my body, but because of my current state, I can't participate fully and it's driving me INSANE. I hope I've just bruised it and that I haven't seriously hurt myself.
On Friday I saw a show that I hated. It was some odd version of Ivanov that basically just upset me. They tried to make some sort of slapstick farce out of it. I left at intermission.
Then, just now, I saw a dance show called "Carmen." It was more movement than dance, but I loved every second. It was very sensual, and very engaging. I'm feeling rather inspired right now actually...I would love to do something like that for an etude.
I'm telling you about my week all out of order. Okay. So Monday I saw Tartuffe, and then we rehearsed for Kapustnick all week. Thursday was the actual Kapusti Party. Friday I saw stupid Ivanov. Saturday night I tried and failed to see Pillowman and ended up coming home instead. THEN I went out with a small group to a bar called Vinograd...or something like that. I danced almost the entire time I was there, and then two cosmos and one vodka shot later, made my way home...where the fun continued. I made an unfortunate discovery around 4 am, however. To prevent fires, the Babushkas cut the power to all the stoves and ovens. I wanted eggs, but niet. couldn't make eggs.
Now we are on Sunday. Kirsten woke me up. We have decided to go out to brunch ever sunday, so I showered and we took off to find coffee and other such goodies. It was an absolutely beautiful day...cold fall air, yellow leaves, and a perfect blue sky. I ran little errands and bought fruit from a wonderfully kind lady on the street. I can see her fruit stand from my window...it's one of my favorite things. The colors of the produce strike me as incredibly beautiful. I wonder if I will still see her when the winter sets in.
And THEN! I COOKED! and it was delicious. I'm bringing it for lunch tomorrow. AND THEN! I went to see Carmen. And that was delicious too. And Now, I'm home, writing a blog. Soon, I will be feeling very frustrated along with the rest of the ensemble as we try to construct tomorrow's etude.
Love, love.
Hannah

Secretary of State of Mind

Dear Charlotte,

This week was JAM PACKED with amazing things, but sadly I can never write a blog long enough to go into the amount of detail needed to attain their full effect. So let's start with the big things that have happened that were mind altering.

First off, we all attended a production of King Lear at MXAT's Mainstage directed by the Movement Master Tadashi Suzuki. I've never seen Suzuki Movement incorporated into a show before, so i was interested and eager to see it's full effect. I have never seen such a beautiful piece of theater. Watching this show I was blown away by how much control each actor maintained over their bodies, voice and especially, their character. The show flowed seamlessly from one scene to the next and held my attention with a Darth Vader death grip. The show itself was only an hour and a half long, but I felt as though it went by so quickly, which left me wanting to see so much more! It was by far the best thing I've seen since being here, and one of the best things I've seen in my life.

This week we had an unusual performance in front of all the faculty and students of MXAT called Kapusnik. Hannah mentioned it a while back, so I'll refresh your memory a bit and save you some scrolling down. Kapusnik, translated it means Cabbage, started when Stanislavski and his wife would invite all of the MXAT company members over to their house and put on a little cabaret of sorts. After performing each performer would receive a little cabbage pastry type thing from Stanislavski. This tradition has lasted since then, but has grown to be an initiation of sorts for the incoming freshmen. Each class does a little skit spoofing teachers, their auditions, or other general things. So the Americans were asked to create a little sketch. For one reason or another I was put in charge of directing our Kapusnik. SIDE NOTE: Directors, I love you. You're job is hard. In general, Kapusnik was bad this year according to everyone who speaks Russian, however, they LOVED the Americans. It just goes to show that when you end a show with Don't Stop Believin' in 4 part harmony, everyone goes home happy.

Finally, and by far the coolest, our Russian Theatre History lecturer Anatoly Smeliansky, who is also the Head of the MXAT Theatre School...no big deal, was asked to sit in the Tsar's Box with the US Ambassador, the Ambassador's wife and the Secretary of State Hillary Clinton at the Bolshoi Theatre. That's how big of a deal MXAT is in Russia. When President Obama came to Russia to meet with Medvedev they created a committee to bring our nations closer together. The committee was made up of people from all kinds of cultural aspects and Smelianksy was the Theatre Arts representative fro Russia, while the US sent a bureaucrat.... ANYWAY, He told us that he spoke in great length about all 43 of the Americans that are currently studying at MXAT, which is one of the highest number of Americans studying abroad in Russia in the same field. After Smeliansky told us about the show and the Secretary, he smiled and said, "so I was sent here with a warm 'Hello' from Secretary Clinton."

Faithfully,

Justin

I walk more than six miles a day in heels

Dear Mr. Harvey Fancy Paws,

Blogging is stressful.  There are too many things that I want to document and end up forgetting before I can get it all out.  Today is a Sunday, our one day off.  We are in the rehearsal studio in the basement waiting for everyone to arrive so we can work on Capusti party.  Capusti Party is similar to freshmen party – it’s a big drunken gathering to welcome the first years, and every class does a small show that lasts about ten minutes or less.  Apparently it’s a new thing that the Americans are included in this, and it's a huge honor…so here we are.  

Yesterday the Russian soccer team played Germany in an important match; Germany won, and everyone was all riled up.  We followed our Angels on an unreasonable trek to find a nightclub.  It ended with a very bad strawberry margarita for me.  It was basically just pink tequila.

Kirsten and I went to breakfast this morning.  I’ve told her like fifty times, but I think I’ll write it in the blog too; I’m so glad we both came to Russia.  We’ve been in such close proximity for so long, but we still probably would have never gotten to know each other had we not come to Moscow. I love her, she is the best. I love all my Ithacans. I love our ensemble.  Kenya deserves some mention too.  Love her, love her.

Did I write about Suzuki King Lear and Three Penny Opera? I can’t remember.  Three Penny Opera was perfect.  Obsessed.  What’s the point of me describing it? I can’t. It was just so, so good.  The cast was brilliant.

            Then there’s the Suzuki production of King Lear set in a mental institution.  I’ve never seen Suzuki Theater before.  It was honestly one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever seen on stage, it made me cry three separate times.  When I wasn’t crying about it, I was sitting on the edge of my seat all prickly with goose-bumps.  

            Yesterday morning we toured the MXT museum.  I stood in Stanislavski’s dressing room.  I saw the makeup he put on his face.  I stood in Nemerovich-Danchenka’s office.  Holy crap.  Our guide began the tour with a brief lecture; she told us (in Russian) how pleased she was that we had decided to study acting, but also how sorry she was for us.  It's interesting that in Russia, if you tell someone that you are an actor, they don't look at you like a crazy person or ask if you have a backup plan...they look at you with admiration.  If they pity you, it is not because you won't get work, it is because you have chosen to bare your soul on stage for the greater good every day of your life.  I chose the path I did, because I believe art can change the world.  I believe that theater serves a higher purpose, and it's so refreshing to finally be in a culture where people share this perspective.  

Our guide spoke briefly about what happened to MXT during the cold war, particularly during the time of Stalin.  I’ve heard the stories from my parents about their experiences during the cold war in America…but it is nothing, absolutely nothing compared to what went on here.  It almost makes me angry that America made such enemies out of the Russians when they were the ones suffering the most.   It’s impressive that the Moscow Art Theater endured.  Our guide told us a story: A young girl was asked what she wanted to with her life, to which she responded, “I want to be an actress.” As soon as she said it, two voices from heaven spoke to her.  One said, “You are a fool,” and the other said, “You are a saint.”  During the cold war, artists were easy targets.  People literally risked their lives to perform their duty as actors.  I can’t pretend that I have any idea what that means.  Obviously I’m not Russian and there is nothing in my life that is comparable to what artists went through during the Cold War.  But it makes me proud to call myself an artist.  

            I feel like I should tell you about Mariana. Mariana is the woman who is basically in charge of us.  I don’t think I’ve ever loved a person so instantly she.  Has a Russian face.  She looks angry, and when she actually is angry it’s the most terrifying thing in the world.  I wrote about how Mariana gracefully pulled me out of my shell within the first week; she’s full of wisdom and a desire to help her students, but also more sass than you would expect from her.  The other days she looked Justin in the eye and said, “I don’t know about you Ithaca boys. You all Liars. Too many waterfalls.”

            Oh, and the Starbucks girl! There is a Starbucks (of course) across from the school.  There is a pretty redhead named Anastasia, but she prefers to be called Amber.  She is brilliant…she speaks something like 8 different languages even thou she has never left Russia.  I’ve been consuming enough coffee to build some kind of friendship with her…even though she thinks my name is Lizzy.

So anyway, this coming week will involve lots of rehearsal and little sleep.  Tomorrow I am going to see Tartuffe. Yay! I think I'm also seeing Pillow Man this week. Da.

G'night

Hannah