Not Marxing Junior Year

NO SLEEP! NO SLEEP!

2009-12-01T09:48:00.000-08:00

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.

2009-11-22T09:49:00.000-08:00

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

2009-11-19T12:25:00.000-08:00

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

2009-11-17T15:25:00.000-08:00

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

2009-11-16T09:56:00.000-08:00

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

2009-11-15T10:35:00.000-08:00

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

2009-11-11T13:36:00.000-08:00

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

2009-11-04T11:34:00.000-08:00

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

2009-11-01T06:29:00.000-08:00

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)

2009-11-01T05:01:00.000-08:00

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

2009-11-01T03:03:00.000-08:00

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

2009-10-25T05:28:00.000-07:00

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

2009-10-18T13:53:00.000-07:00

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.

2009-10-18T10:28:00.000-07:00

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

2009-10-18T05:53:00.000-07:00

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

2009-10-11T13:24:00.000-07:00

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

Blog #2

2009-10-11T08:21:00.000-07:00

Hey Hey,

Above are three more picture from miscellaneous spots from Russia. The top picture is from my Ballet Studio in the MXAT school. I love pictures with reflections and I like how I look in my long over-coat. :) The second one is of these huge doors that we encountered on the way up to the Kremlin--I'm sure that these doors have some sort of historical significance...but unfortunately i was to overwhelmed by the size of the doors to figure why they actually were there. The third is the same story, I'm not really sure where I am but I thought the picture was pretty and hopefully you can gleen and absorb the mood of Russia from it.

So where to begin. I feel that there is so much to say so I'll try to keep the pertinent, memory inspiring and emotional evoking stuff at the beggining, and historical acting stuff at the end. Stuff what a great word. :)

Imagine this: I finish my 25-30 minute walk to school bright and early in the morning and after I get off Tverskaya street I turn left into the plaza of which is MXAT domain. On this street I encounter McDonalds, Starbucks, Five Star, and Three Different Theatres that belong to MXAT school. Usually later in the evening I walk by several guitarists who seemingly always attempt and sometimes succeed, at playing Beetles songs (She loves you YEAH YEAH YEAH) in their heavy russian accents, the thought that russians are learning Beetles music is always an endearing thought.

But here's a new feeling for you. You know when you intellectually know something and you know you knew it but you didn't really know you it until you actually experienced it? :) For example, I knew I studied at MXAT but I dont think I fully experienced and understood the sensation of what it meant walking into MXAT. So I take a left and enter the American studio building and all of a sudden I felt enlightened, I felt as if I felt my footsteps on the floor for the first time, I saw the high ceilings for the first time, and I felt that I understood the black and white pictures on the wall for the first time. It hit me, Konstantin Stanislavsky hung his coat in this room and probably leaned against this wall. Tolstoy heavily trudged this floor contemplated the amorality the Chekhov's The Seagull--or he thought of War and Peace. He actually probably sat down right next to Stanislavky and had a serious discussion about the state of Russia, or they drank vodka at this table to my left. Anton Chekhov probably got an idea for a short story sitting in one of the seats in the Main Stage, Maxim Gorki ate a sandwhich in the lobby while thinking of how to finish The Lower Depths, and Meyerhold probably watched a production of Richard the 3rd thinking that Stanislavsky's approach to the art of acting was completely wrong. OH MY GOSH. I was walking in history. I was walking in a building where if these people hadn't existed I know I probably would not have been here now, I wouldn't have chosen to be an actor, I would never have found the passion and love that I did. These people, these tiny people aimed to do something extraordinary, and they all affected the entire world--right from this spot--the very spot I was standing in that moment.

It's amazing to feel that these were people who were doing the very thing I am doing right now. Doubting, exploring, crying, fighting, debating--any active 'ing' you can find. I walked up to the museum and I saw the very room Stanislavky prepared his make-up before he walked on stage! I SAW HIS MAKE-UP. HIS ROOM. HE touched this brush, He wore this costume, and he looked at his own reflection in this mirror thinking of god knows what. It seems so long ago, however he's right next to me in this room, he's very much alive. I could feel my tears swell up in my eyes. Thanks K. Stanislavksy. At the end of the day I walk outside of the building and I know that they all stood out in this plaza, looked up into the sky and slowly took in one breath of the freezing, nose-chilling moscow air...aaaaaaaand Exhale. They saw their own misty condesned smoke and thought-- "I would like some champagne"--and walked home.

History of Stanislavky: (if you are interested)

As you may or may not know already, that the school that we Ithacans are currently attending is the school Stanislavsky founded along with Nimorovich-Danchenko. For those who do not know who Stanislavsky is (I don't know why you wouldn't know but...) he is the father or realism in theatre. He is one of the greatest teachers in the craft of acting the world has ever known. Without him we of the acting world would never have had Meisner, Stella Adler, Uta Hagen, Michael Chekhov... and many more to add to this list. With his persistence and passion for the art of acting he worked until his dying day to find the best way to bring human beings to life on the stage--his goal was not so that we could act well, but so that we could live fully. One of the most interesting facts and misconceptions we Americans have come to believe is that Stanislavsky gave the world a system-- a method-- that could, in a fullproof manner, make us a better actor. In a sense that is true--but in another we couldn't be more wrong. What happened was that Stanislavky was DEVELOPING a system. This system however was never meant to be "THE WAY"--and acting bible if you will. When the american gurues of acting heard of his system, they proclaimed it as finished and offered their own spin of the Stanislavsky "system" or "method". However, Stanislavky never finished his work in developing the "method" to acting. He worked day and night, almost neurotically, until his dying day for the appropriate way to live fully on stage. We in America learned of his approach to acting only halfway through his life, and WE proclaimed and published it as the "method"--a finished product--when it really is a progressive and ever changing art form. So as the American gurues gained fame as wonderful teachers of the Stanislavsky method, Stanislavky came back to Russia and decided that his approach to acting was unfinished and even wrong. Imagine that. So he kept searching for better ways to approach this art form. What we in America know as "the method" is all based on only half of Stanislavky's life research. Stanislavky never defined his method, he was never finished learning--and such is the Russian mentality. In Russia we continue in the never ending process of defining what acting is and we work from Stanislavsky's dying material. An artists will never be satisfied with his work because there is no limit to the amount we can unconver.

Anatoly Smeliansky(the head of MXAT) said one of the saddest yet most beautiful things about the acting profession. "An artist should read the story of Sysiphus three times every morning when he gets up and three times every night before he goes to sleep. Such is the life of an artist, every day we must push the boulder to the top of the mountain and every day for the rest of our lives we will never get it to the top--but our mentality is always set on attaining our freedom."

Well Goodnight Russia. Goodnight friends. Talk to you soon I hope.

With Admiration,

Marcin

There's a Moment You Know... You're Foreign.

2009-10-05T13:30:00.000-07:00

Dear Charlotte,

Moscow is indescribable. The city, the culture, the language, the art, the history, all so rich and fascinating. It has been a whirlwind of a week with my horizons expanding and my life slowly changing before my eyes. I am so thankful for this amazing opportunity to study in such a unparalleled setting. Not a day goes by that I don't wake up and thank god for placing me at exactly the right place at the exact right time in my life. I can ask for anything more.

The training is rigorous, physical, brutal and eye opening. Our classes range from mentally stimulating lectures in Russian Theatre History, Russian Language and Russian Cinema History to physically brutal classes like Ballet, Russian Movement and Stage Combat. But most interesting and invigorating is our Acting Class. I am lucky enough to be studying with Sergei Zemstov, the Dean of the Acting School at MXAT, an amazing honor and privilege. MXAT focuses primarily on Stanislavki's System, and why shouldn't they? I mean he did establish the theatre with Nimerovich-Danchenko, so his way of doing things would probably be a nice way of doing things.

Moscow is beautiful, Charlotte. Around each corner is something wonderfully historic and strikingly beautiful. However, in the same way, everything is strangely tragic. The old communist relics that once stood for the people now give an erie atmosphere to some of the most beautiful parts of Moscow. Take St. Basil's for example. Red Square is breathtaking with it's vast and serene design, but with St. Basil's on one end and Lenin's Tomb guarding the Kremlin wall on the other, the clash between Tsarist Russia, Communist Russia and the now present Post-Communtistic Russian Federation is strikingly off-putting. This city is full of some many pretty things that once stood for something so ugly and vile, that the beauty is tainted in a way.

MXAT itself is amazing. With it's signature Seagull and famed font welcoming us everyday to Kamergersky St., it is beginning to feel like home. I can't tell you how much I love this place already, Charlotte. Mostly of that love is thanks to the 29 wonderful scholastic adventurers. Initially we were all shy and timid around each other, but sharing a fridge together does wonders in terms of ice breaking. All 30 of us "O'Neills" as the Russians calls us are really beginning to gel as a collective group, which at this stage of the process is a wonderful, necessary thing. Besides the four of us on this blog, who i know you all think are great little actors, the rest of the MXAT Americans are fantastically talented. From all different kinds of academic institutions, we come together to create this unstoppable force of artistic beauty that is unlike any other I've experienced.

One thing that I've found very refreshing about the MXAT life we've been leading, is that actors here are treated as artists. I feel as though in the States (how "study abroad" of me) actors are seen as a lower class artist, merely a spare part in the process that can be changed on whim. However, in the theater community here in Moscow, everyone from designers to actors to stagehands to directors are all treated as equal artists with equal artistic opinions. That's something that I find amazingly refreshing and inspiring to here.

Forever Yours,

Justin

Too many thoughts

2009-10-04T07:45:00.000-07:00

Дорогие лапки га-н Харви Fancey,

I have completed my first week in Russia. Amazing. There are not words... except amazing, as you just saw. I'm in love with this city, this culture, this school, the theater culture, and the group with whome I am sharing this experience. I'm learning to embrace being permenantly frustrated in acting class, enjoying the "special pleasure" we endure in movement class, and slowly, slowly learning Russian. My feet are dead from walking more than five miles every day in heals on cobbled streets, standing in "fIE POSEESS!" in Russian class, and running up the walls in movement.

Ugh. I'm so overwhelmed trying to explaine everythin I've experienced, even in just one week. Okay. So. All of the studio and language classes consist of fourteen people for me, with sixteen in the other group. Every morning, monday through Saturday, I wake up at around seven o'clock, shower, get pretty, pack everything I need for my day which goes from sweaty intense to formal wear for the theater at night. I make breakfast and start walking to school at about 9 am. It's colder for the season than ithaca is, but I always arrive at school sweaty at about 9:35 or 9:40. I've taken to getting a shot of esspresso before going up to the American studio since it's considered rude to bring food or drinks other than water into classes. I'm pleased to inform you that I absolutely adore every single class I am taking. They are as follows: Acting, Movement, Ballet, Stage Combat, Singing, History of Russian Theater, History of Russian Cinema, Stage Design, and Russian Language. All the movent classes are crazy nuts, and I fully expect to come home looking hot. Get ready. Russians think that drinking water during excerecise will give you a heart complication... so that's been an adjustment. I'm doing things that I never thought I could...because when you are used to seeing yourself one way and everyone else sees you one way, you limit yourself. Here, people are meeting me for the first time and there are no preconcieved notions holding me back. Who would have ever thought that Singing and Ballet would be two of my favorite classes here. I've also realized that I don't know how to act. And I'm happy about this. I'm more than willing to go back to the beginning every day for the sake of the thing I love.

Anyway, last night we celebrated our first week in Russia with a party at Shauna's house (Shauna is the one who chaperoned us here). I understand more than ever the need to play hard after working hard. I've been a very happy girl lately, so throwing a party into the mix was a good choice. So Saturday became a 20 hour day, every moment of which was enjoyable.

We just finished prepping our group etude for tomorrow. At some point I'm going to write about our acting teachers in more detail. For now, I'll just say that I can't get enough of either of them. Alex and Sasha. Alex is a crazy awesome film (as well as stage actor) and Sasha is apparantly an important stage actor. They argue about acting theory a lot in class. I liken it to watching two kung fu masters doing battle crouching tiger hidden dragon style....but they aren't trying to kill each other. I think they like each other. I also need to write about my other teachers, but this blog is getting silly long. I'm actually still writing only because I came back to my room to go to sleep and discovered friends sitting in here, occupying my bed. strange. But I love that too. I love everything if you haven't noticed. I'm dying to tell everything, and everytime I write something, I'm reminded of something else I need to document. Okay. Okay. Okay.

Goodnight.

Hannah

: ) Blog #1

2009-09-27T13:02:00.000-07:00

Dear Friends,

One. Thank you for taking an interest in my life in Russia and... Two. Take a look at how lucky I am ; ) (above). The best and most famous parts of Russia have been caught in these pictures. From the top we have the State Historical Museum , then in the middle we have a lake that I took a picture of and I'm honestly not sure what the cathedral is called, and at the bottom we have St. Basil's Cathedral. Conversely, the worst part of it all is that I do not have the talent to take a beautiful enough picture to share it with you. Honestly, Russia is a beautiful country and I am overwhelmed with the amount of aesthetic beauty and historical meaning each street carries.

To help you feel what I am living, I'll try to explain what I experience walking everyday to MXAT (Moscow Arts Theatre). As I leave the dorm I always say goodbye to a little old lady that gaurds the door (we call them Babushki) and as I walk outside I welcome the cool moscovite breeze into my black Ralph-Lauren trench coat. Its not cold, just...chilly...enough to remind you its the morning and that it's going to get colder, a lot colder. :) As I walk I am sorrounded by the neon signs with the Cyrillic Alphabet, Hot New Fashion Clothing Stores, Homeless People who are begging for only a Ruble, and Incredible Architecture that goes at least Six Floors up. The Russians generally stay silent so the Americans (me) are most of the time calling attentions to ourselves with how loud we are; however, when we are assimilating to the culture we are lucky enough to hear the muttering of the historic slovak language that we all wish we could emulate--but all we actually understand is Shto, Gdzjye, and Spaseeba (what, where, and thanks)--we really only get by with the occasional brilliant gesture that somehow miraculously connects us and clears the language barrier. haha...but that doesn't happen often...well...ya. Oh, and even when we try to fit in, it doesn't mean we don't notice the occasional Russian male that stares you down with his almost opressed, hard-worked eyes. But it also doesn't mean that we don't notice the occasional beautifully fullfulling, gorgeous, and un-touchable Russian woman. It's Yin and Yang. In the street you can almost feel the cars being impatient, sometimes getting nowhere because of the heavy traffic that always exists on Tverskaya street, you may say this is like New York, but all the cars are quiet--almost repressed. The cars, however impatient, (they will run you over), they wait and they don't make a sound. Just wait. Disciplined. I smell smoke. Not dirty smog air polluted from cars, but smoke from my friends and all the Russians that smoke cigarretes everywhere and everyday--haha--even when a sign says no smoking (I see the sign, I don't actually know how to say it) there will most likely be a Russian, or Charlie Forray, smoking next to me. : ) It's not unpleasant but a wonderful thing to get used to. I feel cultured and alive. I feel like I can't see, experience, or learn enough. With every sign I read I know that I get closer to deciphering this unknown language and with every encounter I feel less scared to jump in a make a fool of myself with my broken russian--actually-- shattered russian.

Ok. So Russia is beautiful. You get it. It's also ugly too. It has its darker side, very dark. But I'll talk about that next time. Chao.

With Love,

Marcin

Yani Paranu Ruski

2009-09-27T06:51:00.000-07:00

Dear Mr. Harvey Fancy Paws,
I’m in Moscow!
I will go back to the beginning. I had my last show on Sept. 19 – it went very well. I then went home and spent the night saying goodbye to family and packing, weighing and reweighing my bags, and finally going to sleep for a measly three hours before waking up again and driving to the airport. Then to Connecticut where Charlie and his mom picked me up, and we drove to the O’Neill Center, which by the way, is beautiful. We were given rooms. Mine was located in a big Victorian style white house. Very nice. That night we met our fellows, Shauna who accompanied us to Moscow, and saw a production from the NTI kids.
There were classes and other suck activities, but mostly the day and half we spent at orientation was devoted to getting to know one another. By the time we made it onto the plane at JFK, we had already begun to function as a unit. There are thirty of us, and I’m sure through the course of this blog, you will begin to learn more about our group.
The nine our plane ride wasn’t pleasant. I was less uncomfortable in the physical sense than I’ve been on domestic flights, but it seems to me Russian men don’t care much about deodorant. They have a musk. I was sitting next to a spectacularly smelly man, and the airline forgot to feed me. Rude. So after departing from New York at 4:20 pm on Sept. 22, we landed in Moscow at 10:10 am on Sept. 23.
In Russia there are differences in the way women are treated. The men were in charge of lugging all the baggage, which I liked. Apparently, the Russian mentality is as follows: Women are expected to be mothers in their lives, and most have their first baby before they are 24, so women and girls approaching this time in their lives have to be careful to preserve their ability to have children; so things like lifting heavy objects and sitting on the ground are not okay. But really, Russians don’t like the ground and they don’t like the floor. In all studio classes you wear shoes. But the moment is intense enough that you kind of have to anyways. But you don’t sit on the floor in acting either. And you don’t go barefoot. Ever. In doors, it is expected that you take off your shoes and change into slippers. It’s actually a very classy culture that way. And as far as the way women are treated, I confess that it is sort of nice.
As far as life in Moscow, it’s sort of baptism by fire. Mariana is the woman who basically in charge of us here, and she is available to answer all our questions, and we have the angles, who are Russian producing students who help to herd us when we are in groups, but after showing us where the grocery store is, helping us to get phone cards, and taking us to exchange money, our guides kinda peaced out and left us to our own devices. It’s Sunday and I’m starting to finally feel a bit more comfortable.
Dorm life. The dorms are great, much nicer than American dorms. We have really nice kitchens, and it’s really easiest to do most of your cooking at home. Lucky me, I have a single…though of course I’m always lonely and spending my time in other people’s rooms. We live in close proximity with the Russians as well. Many of them are very interested in meeting us and practicing their English with us. I’m sort of bad at communicating with them still. And the doors are extremely safe. We have a babushka who guards the door, and she has to buzz you both in and out. At 1am she goes to bed, and if you aren’t home, you’re in trouble cause you’re spending the night outside. So it’s important to be nice to the babushkas. And never call them babushka to their face.
As for Moscow, I love it so far. It’s much like any other city, but Russian. Obviously. The architecture, the history…it blows the mind. The cigarette smoke is a little overwhelming. Most of Russia smokes, and you can do it everywhere…restaurants, buildings…even the dorms allow smoking in the stairwells. I’ve just had to make a choice to deal with it and not let it bother me too much.
Russians are beautiful. They take their appearance very seriously, and dress very nicely. Compared to Moscow, New Yorkers on the street like slobs. I’ve been making a point to dress up, wear makeup, and put myself together as much as possible before leaving; and surprisingly, I like it. Mariana told me while boot shopping, “Beautiful girls should wear fancy things. You are not a girl, you are a woman, and you should get only more beautiful as you grow.” I guess life really is too short not to feel beautiful every day, and putting some effort into your appearance does make one feel better. Mariana is like most Russians; very stern looking, cold seeming, but actually very full of love. It’s such a fascinating culture that way.
We start our real class schedule tomorrow, which I absolutely cannot wait for. We have only had two history classes, one film history class, and one acting class, so we haven’t really begun to work yet. I just cannot even express how beautiful the theater culture here is…it’s like nothing I have experience…the love and the reverence with which the Russians approach their art stuns me. We have already learned, when something happens to the Moscow Art Theater, something happens to Russia. Here, art changes the course of history; it changes the world, as opposed to the outside world changing the theater. There are a million billion more things to share, but this blog is long enough I think, so I’ll end here for now.
I was afraid to come to Russia, even during the application process, but thank God I’m here. This is exactly where I am supposed to be right now.

Love to everyone who is reading this,
Hannah

2009-09-17T19:42:00.000-07:00

Dear Charlotte,

It's Wednesday September 16th, 2009 and at this time next week I will have left the United States of America for Moscow, Russia. SO STRANGE.

I began my final travel preparations not by packing, but driving 5 1/2 hours to Ithaca, NY for the weekend. Now you may ask, "Why this weekend? What's so special about it?" Well, shut up and I'll tell you. So this past weekend was in fact the weekend of Freshmen Party, an illustrious tradition held annual at the beginning of each year. For those of you who aren't aware of said Party, I'll explain. Freshmen Party is a show written, directed, choreographed and performed by the upperclassmen for the incoming freshmen class. This performance is filled to the brim with belting, face-kicking, riffing, viewpointing, designing, Bad Assery and above all else HILARITY. Seriously, the senior class must have been drinking Fool-Aid all summer, because the show was amazingly hilarious. Once some of the videos hit youtube I'll post them. But here's a facebook video, you we'll see if that works too. http://www.facebook.com/video/video.php?v=586464613189&ref=nf

Seriously, the show doubled as an ab work out, that's how funny it was.

But Freshmen Party aside I went to visit Ithaca for a few other reasons. One of my closest friends Ben was visiting Ithaca while he's on break from touring with Spring Awakening. It's a big deal because he'll be gone for the whole year, so like all of us Russian Zolls he'll be without the Class of Zoll in it's entirety. But, let's get real, that's not a bad deal in the long run. So seeing everyone together, even for the brief amount of time, was very important to me. I love my class so much and we all came so far last year both individually and as an ensemble that being around them reminded me of where I left off last year. I was hoping that would happen while i was in Ithaca because a lot of this time away from Ithaca has started to get to me and make me bored and lazy, so rediscovering my passion in the place where it started was in my eyes essential before going to Russia. I'll write again soon.

Faithfully,

Justin

A Precious.

2009-09-17T15:43:00.001-07:00

Dear Mr. Harvey Fancy Paws,

Here I sit in my room, noming on unhealthful snacks. I have been procrastinating hugely, and now I am suffering for it in my last week. I am very behind on reading, mostly due to Greek. I have Justin to thank for this recent addiction. I highly recomend it to anyone with an excess of time to devote to Hulu.com

My room looks as though it has been ransacked. And it has. By me. All my clothes have been ripped from the closet, and my books are strewn about. My pictures have been taken from their frames and off the walls and filed into a binder in order to make the trip with me to Russia.

I sit like a Gollum in the middle of this mess, hunched around my computer watching Greek and playing Mafia Wars. My cat is sitting inside my almost full suitcase. And I admit, that I'm putting off the work I should be doing because I am scared. I have no idea what to expect. I'm going to Russia. Russia? Yes. Russia. That is very far away.

On another note, I got my hairs did. Woot!

I suppose the next time I blog, it will be from Moscow. Till then, adios.

Hannah

Status: Declassified

2009-09-07T19:19:00.000-07:00

The following is a decrypted message from Field Agent Charles Thomas Forray.

Alias' include: Charlie Forray, Charlie F, Chofo, Chofsky, Charlie Smiles, Charlie Charming, C4A, CT4A, Charlie Boy, Argyle Lorin, Stanial Onatop, Ash Ketchem, Roxis, and Chagrin. Other Alias' not listed

Some information has been deemed classified and has been omitted from this statement.

Status: Civilian declassified....Mostly.

Personal blog entry 0001

As I lay here exhaling my weekend my mind wanders to the road ahead. Despite the action filled lifestyle of my summer, I look forward to the cloister of trials in which infiltration and assimilation of myself into the Russian Culture is integral to my lifetime commitment for an artistic world.

Traveling to the Motherland is but only 12 days away. Like a child waiting for Chanukkah to arrive, every day my excitement builds for when I land in Connecticut and team up with my fellow agents traveling to Big Red. I have, as it may come as no surprise, been rather antsy waiting for zero hour. With my time expendable I have been visiting friends at colleges to keep myself occupied with excitement. After all, patience is not one of my virtues.

This past weekend I went up to The University of Vermont and partied their way. With Saturday and Sunday back to back double keggers my blood and bones were put to the test. I can only now imagine what type of inebriation level Moscow will bring. But I'll be ready. With an internal moral compass, and supreme knowledge of the BHC curve, I foresee no problem dealing with the ******* *** **** ** and handling any and all ********* ***** **** that come my way. However, my body count is racking up a little faster than M.O.M. would like. My verbal negotiation skills were surpassed by my physical ones when a fight ensued at the party this weekend. Some people should learn when they are asked to leave they should never decide to grab the frying pan and start swinging. Though the situation was handled, throwing him down a flight of stairs was rather excessive. Thank goodness the corner of the garage broke his fall. Despite his lack luster people skills, the clearly beaten man returned to apologise after his 20 minute intermission from the party. Apologies are always welcome.

Now that I am home again the remaining days are filled with reading, paperwork, assessment of essential items, ***** **** ***, and enjoying the family I'll be seeing this weekend. The truth of it all is if I could leave for Russia now I would not. My older brother William Zachary Forray will be marrying the love of his life Lindsey Fogg-Willits on Saturday and someday creating A little Fog-For-Will-Ray-Its.

Until future transmissions this is agent 4A saying I love you all, and I will be in touch.

Emmanual syzygy mark 902.810-Ellipsis. [Bio-rok] 5%Rushmore#Cedar SaiNai

Slow Loris.

2009-09-06T19:42:00.000-07:00

Dear Mr. Harvey Fancy Paws,

I have been biding my time, waiting for either Charlie or Justin to write a blog before I could write another one. My gut tells me that I will be blogging more than those two. So obviously we have added another author. Consolidate the blogging effort.

Now. Anyone who knows me knows that I have a sugar problem. I found out from a doctor that sugar addiction is actually a diagnosable problem...one that I obviously have. If you know me at all, then you should be very proud to learn that I have not had sugar (excepting "evaporated cane juice" in my vanilla soy milk which I eat with cereal sweetened with sulfate free molasses) since Tuesday.

This doesn't mean I've been more healthy. On the contrary, I've been filling the sugar void with a LOT of food...most carbs. I might get fat, but at least I won't get diabetes.

In other news, I worked nine hours today at a chicken restaurant and pretended to be very nice to customers. I sat some very smelly boys and offered a little girl some crayons and a coloring sheet, to which she responded, "NO!"

Then I came home and ate a sugar free dinner and bothered Justin via AIM, which has become a regular past-time. I think in a previous life Justin was my older brother, since he is generally nice to me, though much of our interaction is me trying to get his attention and him tolerating it.

Also, I'm torn about the whole going to London thing? I've wanted to travel my whole life, and I want to do it while I'm young and whatnot. And the opportunities I would have as a student are far greater than those afforded to a tourist. But there is the money issue, and what I fear would turn out to be a very stressful situation, what with living abroad for an entire years, especially with my health issues. I don't know if anyone even reads this thing, but if you do, and you have thoughts on the matter, I love a second opinion.

Love you. Hannah

Cirque Du Soviet

2009-09-05T18:56:00.000-07:00

Charlotte,

My last week has been pretty busy. We've been short staffed at work all week so I've seen a lot more action than usual. However, occupational happenings aside, it has been a productive week in terms of getting my shit together for Russia.

My Russian phrase book arrived this week, and has helped me learn some simple Russian sentences. It has also helped me realized just how amazingly challenging the language barrier is going to be. The alphabet is nuts, the words are even crazier. I'm amazed at just how complicated learning Russian is going to be, but I willingly except that challenge. Bring it on.

On a similar preparation note, I've recently begun my physical preparations for Moscow. Getting my body in shape for movement training as been a priority this summer. Movement Class this past year was a relatively rude awakening to just how out of touch i was with my physical fitness, so i made it a goal to be back to full strength by the end of the summer. So far, so good. I've been working out and stretching like it's my job. I want to be Cirque du Soleil ready by the time I get back from Moscow. Example of Cirque du Soleil Ready :

Along some similar lines, I have decided to set some goals for myself, in terms of where i want to be when I return to the States. After looking at what this training means to me and what it could do for me I went back to the NTI Handbook to go over the class list once again. It was then that I reread a paragraph about just how serious of an opportunity this is for us. The passage reads, "The MXAT School is one of the most respected theater schools in Europe, and the people who work and study there have already dedicated their lives to theater. The Russian students at the MXAT School, with whom you will be sharing your living and working spaces, were selected from thousands of applicants; many of them have very little money (for them the school is free), and for some it is their one and only chance to support their families and enter a successful artistic career." When I first started auditioning for schools one of the department chairs said, "If you can think of doing something else for a living, then get out of this room. This needs to be your life." I believed that i couldn't do anything else the rest of my life, but I'm hoping to take my passion for theatre up a couple notches. I'm hoping that being in an environment with fellow students who are giving up so much to pursue their craft will inspire me become a stronger, wiser and more passionate actor.

Faithfully Yours,

Justin

Nemesis

2009-08-31T11:20:00.000-07:00

Dear Mr. Harvey Fancy Paws,

I have a problem.

No one Nose

2009-08-29T22:36:00.000-07:00

Dear Mr. Harvey Fancy Paws,

You should know that being in Colorado during the weekend of Greet the Meat and the All Dept Meeting was not pleasant. I was not expecting to feel so...left out. Just now I was looking through old pictures from...my life...some of which include photos snapped of IC's campus during my first week of college. It made me feel homesick.

Anyway. Today I had a show. Our audience was small, yet enthusiastic. Then we drove up to Evergreen for dinner and to see an improv show. The show featured my High school theater teacher as well as my ex boyfriend that I dated from age 15 -18. That's what got me started on reminiscing...and looking through old photos and such. It's trippy, let me tell you. When else does one spend any amount of time comparing the noses of their past lovers?

On another note, the most amazing thing has been happening. I've been feeling this energized sort of elation lately. It feels like a pretty cloud spiraling up inside me. I pretend it's my Kundalini snake, though actually, I did some research on Kundalini, and if you release before you are ready, it can cause madness. It actually happens to a lot of people. Norm never warned us about that.

My one complaint is that the spiral inspires me to do things, it makes me want to play and create and connect...all good things except when the opportunities to do so are still somewhat limited. I've been playing more lately, but I really just can't wait to get on a plane and start my semester. The end.

Love Hannah

The First of Many

2009-08-29T06:49:00.000-07:00

My Dearest Charlotte,

So, while Hannah has decided to name her blog "Mr. Harvey Fancy Paws" I have decided to give mine a most old fashioned name. I've always been a big fan of letters written by soldiers in a time of war, be it WWI, WWII, The Vietnam War, The Spanish-American War, or the most epic of all letter writing wars, The Civil War. So I felt that Charlotte was a nice name that seemed to transcend all of these time periods. In conclusion, henceforth Charlotte is her name-o.

So, we haven't left for Russia yet. Which is GREAT. Instead of doing something crazy, like going back to school, I'm hanging around MA, kickin' it and squandering away my precious time before departing. But not all of my time as been squandered or kicked, I have found time to do many things that I haven't done in forever. I've completed 5/30 of Pikmin for GameCube, almost made a friendship bracelet, changed my computer's background image, filled my bike tires up with air, and other things of this nature. CLEARLY, these are all priorities that needed to take precedent over my thousands of pages of reading...clearly.

So in other news, after an amazing first few attempts of Visa Application Form Filling Out our Visas were all accepted by the Russian Consulate. Good News. I have to give the Russian Consulate credit for being extremely picky about who gets to stay in their country. It's almost been like an endurance challenge. Here's something fun to do if you have a free hour or two, try to explain to someone that you need an AIDS test, but you don't have AIDS or think you have AIDS, you just NEED to have the test. Nurses think you are a nut case.

But, besides that it's all been very nice so far, very relaxing. I'm sure once I get to Connecticut something or someone will slap me in the face and say "Welcome to Your Life Changing Experience." I've been listening to Passing Strange a lot lately. And you're probably thinking, "How is that pretinent?" Well, Charlotte, it is because it has a lot to do with find yourself and your art in other foreign countries. In an interview with Spike Lee and himself, Stew said something which has giving me an extra push towards hopping on a plane to Moscow immediately. Stew said, "...Art made me curious to leave where I was from, and find out more about the world." Get it, Stew. Get it.

Well, this is a LONG blog. I'm gonna cap it here. So here's my Civil War ending. "These next few weeks will go by drudgingly slow my darling, yet through the darkest of nights your love guides me like a beacon of hope towards the approaching dawn. As my battalion readies itself for another two week march through Massachussetts, I am reminded of your warm embrace by the sweet summer breeze that wafts ever so softly throughout the valley. Sometimes, I swear I can hear your voice in each passing gust, whispering words of encouragement as I forage onward into the unknown."

Zollways,
Justin

coloRAD-O

2009-08-27T20:34:00.000-07:00

Dear Mr. Harvey Fancy Paws,

I just hacked into my own blog. Obviously, this is a joint blog for me and Justin, as a way to document our Russian adventure as well as keep a lifeline to the people we miss. Justin set it up, and I finally succeeded in matching the correct login name and password so that I might assuage my boredom with some good ol' fashioned BLOGGING.

See? Blog Authors.

So, here I sit in Colorado. In less than a month, I will be in Russia, but that still feels a bit unreal. For the moment, I'm paralyzed with boredom and missing Ithaca and the people there terribly. What I wouldn't give for the power to teleport...

It probably seems petty to anyone who hasn't spent their summer completely sober and living like a monk, but I miss partying. I want to go to a party and get drunk in order to excuse some bad behavior.

Anyways. Justin and I were thinking we would each come up with a different name for the blog so that you would know right away who was writing it. The example Justin used was "Kitty" from Anne Frank's diary. I mean, I like kitties, but I don't think I should use that one...it's a bit...depressing. Obviously.

Immediately my brain jumps to other Feline related names. But I'm feeling far too noncommittal to pick a name tonight.

oooooooooooook then. Happy Thursday, and goodnight.

Hannah

P.S. The following picture is just because