I have long enjoyed lighting candles in churches and saying a little prayer for someone. There's something comforting and beautiful about watching the wick catch and seeing the smoke rising like the thoughts in my heart and in my mind. I have lit a few candles since I came to live in Dublin, especially for my Grandma Alice whom I miss dearly.
Yesterday morning I had a strong urge to go light candles and offer a little prayer for each person who was on my mind. So I walked to the beautiful church in Rathmines (which I think is the church of Christ the King...the same name as my primary school in California) and lit my candles and said my prayers.
When I woke up this morning, I felt the urge to do it again. So I walked down again, timing it today so I would be there for the mid-morning mass. It was the first mass in years I've attended that wasn't a funeral. I remembered all the prayers with only a few stumbles over the Confiteor (I confess to almighty God, and to you my brothers and sisters...) which we never said with regularity in my parishes.
I don't know if this is going to become a habit, but it does feel good to make this little offering to my loved ones, especially when I am caught up in my own business most of the time.
Tuesday, July 31, 2007
Monday, July 30, 2007
Imaginary Relationships
When I moved to Ireland, I knew I was embarking on a new phase in some of my relationships: the mostly imaginary phase.
For the relationships in which we check in with each other once or twice a year, nothing would really change. For the relationships with more frequent contact, this is where the change would be most evident. For the daily relationships...well, I knew it would require an act of faith every day to keep those relationships functioning. Luckily, however, I have very few daily-contact relationships unless they are in the workplace or in the home.
As I prepare to return home, I am aware that there may be a slight collision of different worlds because for every imaginary relationship I've been maintaining, chances are the other person has been maintaining one, too. It will be an interesting journey to figure out how and where our imaginary relationships still fit together, if at all.
For the relationships in which we check in with each other once or twice a year, nothing would really change. For the relationships with more frequent contact, this is where the change would be most evident. For the daily relationships...well, I knew it would require an act of faith every day to keep those relationships functioning. Luckily, however, I have very few daily-contact relationships unless they are in the workplace or in the home.
As I prepare to return home, I am aware that there may be a slight collision of different worlds because for every imaginary relationship I've been maintaining, chances are the other person has been maintaining one, too. It will be an interesting journey to figure out how and where our imaginary relationships still fit together, if at all.
Sunday, July 29, 2007
Horrible Histories
I've seen the Horrible Histories books many times since I came to Ireland but they still surprise me.
When my parents were visiting we saw a wide variety of them on sale at one of the OPW maintained castles which struck me as a hilarious sign of the times: at an Irish government-funded and -maintained site, a visitor can purchase The Cut-Throat Celts Sticker-Activity Book.
This is the kind of thing I would've loved as a kid and it makes the little girl in me positively gleeful. Okay, it makes the adult me gleeful, too, especially when I think that these books provide an information that might help children realize that history books are edited and composed like any other work of fiction.
Anyway, I thought there might be some of you out there who would get a warm-and-fuzzy feeling from knowing these books exist. (And you can send an Evil E-card from their site!)
When my parents were visiting we saw a wide variety of them on sale at one of the OPW maintained castles which struck me as a hilarious sign of the times: at an Irish government-funded and -maintained site, a visitor can purchase The Cut-Throat Celts Sticker-Activity Book.
This is the kind of thing I would've loved as a kid and it makes the little girl in me positively gleeful. Okay, it makes the adult me gleeful, too, especially when I think that these books provide an information that might help children realize that history books are edited and composed like any other work of fiction.
Anyway, I thought there might be some of you out there who would get a warm-and-fuzzy feeling from knowing these books exist. (And you can send an Evil E-card from their site!)
Exceptions to the Rule(s)
The more I read articles, essays, and books by established authors, the more I realize they all violate some of the rules by which I judge my writing and my thought. This is not to say that they violate all rules. My realization is simply this: sometimes I focus on attempting to pass in academia rather than simply writing what I think.
This is something I observed during the Graduate Certificate Program at UC Santa Cruz and it's something that still affects me. At a certain point I will internalize that I can move beyond a hoop-jumping mentality. Or I will decide that I will deal with miscommunications after they happen rather then spend time contorting my thoughts to fit a paradigm that may or may not be in effect.
I am learning to trust my voice. I remember when I got to interview theatre director Anne Bogart for my introduction to directing class. I asked her about how she got to where she was and she basically responded: by directing. She acknowledged that studies could be helpful but that, ultimately, it was by actually directing that she learned the most. And I think that's what I'm doing here: learning by doing.
This is something I observed during the Graduate Certificate Program at UC Santa Cruz and it's something that still affects me. At a certain point I will internalize that I can move beyond a hoop-jumping mentality. Or I will decide that I will deal with miscommunications after they happen rather then spend time contorting my thoughts to fit a paradigm that may or may not be in effect.
I am learning to trust my voice. I remember when I got to interview theatre director Anne Bogart for my introduction to directing class. I asked her about how she got to where she was and she basically responded: by directing. She acknowledged that studies could be helpful but that, ultimately, it was by actually directing that she learned the most. And I think that's what I'm doing here: learning by doing.
Thursday, July 26, 2007
Oh, wonderful teapot...
As I worked at home today, looking out my large kitchen window at the variations in weather throughout the day (of which there were many), I enjoyed multiple pots of tea in my cute little teapot. It's nothing fancy. I bought it at Dunnes Stores for about €8. But it has been such good company! And it continues to keep me going through my research and writing.
Sometimes it's those simple pleasures that make the biggest difference, including being able to laugh at how simple this pleasure is.
Sometimes it's those simple pleasures that make the biggest difference, including being able to laugh at how simple this pleasure is.
Fears named
The following is an excerpt from Umberto Eco's essay "Analysis of Poetic Language" in The Open Work in which he discusses what happens when the same piece of music is listened to for years and the ability of its form to inspire pleasure has been exhausted.
"Often, to rejuvenate our dulled sensibility, we need to put it in quarantine. [...] But time might not be enough to reawaken pleasure and surprise and to resurrect a particular form for us, which means either that our intellectual development as atrophied or that the work, as organization of stimuli, was addressed to an ideal addressee who does not correspond to what we have become. This might in turn mean that that particular form, aimed at a particular cultural context, is no longer effective for us, though it might yet find some resonance in the future."
Here I am: working on my dissertation which I left in quarantine and finding myself still sifting through layers of stimuli, of form, of organization...and I am afraid that I will find the forms I anticipated will no longer be effective for the communication I set out to achieve.
Of course, this is part of any writing process with a duration that can encompass a significant shift in sensibility or in understanding. Who doesn't approach the end of a dissertation or thesis and not see a very different and less problematic means of completing the project? It is, nonetheless, still daunting to find myself doubting myself and my process. Yes, Mr. Eco proffers that sensibilities will likely shift again and what is dull at present may yet be resonant in a future context, but this does not alter my fear that my moment of intelligibility has passed.
"Often, to rejuvenate our dulled sensibility, we need to put it in quarantine. [...] But time might not be enough to reawaken pleasure and surprise and to resurrect a particular form for us, which means either that our intellectual development as atrophied or that the work, as organization of stimuli, was addressed to an ideal addressee who does not correspond to what we have become. This might in turn mean that that particular form, aimed at a particular cultural context, is no longer effective for us, though it might yet find some resonance in the future."
Here I am: working on my dissertation which I left in quarantine and finding myself still sifting through layers of stimuli, of form, of organization...and I am afraid that I will find the forms I anticipated will no longer be effective for the communication I set out to achieve.
Of course, this is part of any writing process with a duration that can encompass a significant shift in sensibility or in understanding. Who doesn't approach the end of a dissertation or thesis and not see a very different and less problematic means of completing the project? It is, nonetheless, still daunting to find myself doubting myself and my process. Yes, Mr. Eco proffers that sensibilities will likely shift again and what is dull at present may yet be resonant in a future context, but this does not alter my fear that my moment of intelligibility has passed.
Endgame at du Players
I saw a production of Samuel Beckett's Endgame at duPlayers on Tuesday night. I think it was actually a group renting the space and attempting to get tourists to see the show; the advert featured an artist's rendering of a well-known image of Beckett, this time with a slight smile that made the whole thing look slightly cartoonish. (A couple months ago a met a group of tourists from San Jose, CA and they were looking for an Irish play to see and there weren't any on that weekend. They probably would've been very excited if Endgame had been playing then. Of course what was playing at duPlayers that weekend was the production of Brilliant Traces which I had seen at the Rathmines Festival and which I recommended wholeheartedly.)
The ticket cost most than most shows at the Project Art Centre and had a lower production value which was disappointing. Overall, it was enjoyable, especially Nag. Mostly I enjoyed seeing Beckett staged. I forget how used to Hamm with glasses I become until those few moments during which he removes them and then I feel uncomfortable. There's lots of those small revelations throughout that are disconcerting while drawing me in to pay closer attention.
I was slightly disappointed when there were entire pages of dialogue or monologue in which the actor(s) seemed to have not found a point. I recalled a comment made by a friend about the pain of sitting through bad Beckett. I recalled the underwhelming production Allergic to Beckett that I saw at Bewley's. And then I marveled at the human capacity for self-deception that I see so often in the theatre: did that actor really believe he was conveying some deep truth simply by articulating lines written by Beckett? did that woman sitting in my row who continuously sifted through her large handbag believe she was paying attention to the performance? did I think that seeing a performance is ever less than the entire experience of audience, script, and performance?
Perhaps it's the point I am at in my dissertation or the many conversations I've had recently about the nature of theatre and theatre audiences... I don't know why I find myself dazed in the face of analysis. Saying I did or did not enjoy the experience doesn't convey much information of any use to anyone else. And yet I don't know that I have any commentary or criticism that will offer anything of use or value. Of course if someone happens to read this who was considering attending the production of Endgame it might be of value to her/him.
The ticket cost most than most shows at the Project Art Centre and had a lower production value which was disappointing. Overall, it was enjoyable, especially Nag. Mostly I enjoyed seeing Beckett staged. I forget how used to Hamm with glasses I become until those few moments during which he removes them and then I feel uncomfortable. There's lots of those small revelations throughout that are disconcerting while drawing me in to pay closer attention.
I was slightly disappointed when there were entire pages of dialogue or monologue in which the actor(s) seemed to have not found a point. I recalled a comment made by a friend about the pain of sitting through bad Beckett. I recalled the underwhelming production Allergic to Beckett that I saw at Bewley's. And then I marveled at the human capacity for self-deception that I see so often in the theatre: did that actor really believe he was conveying some deep truth simply by articulating lines written by Beckett? did that woman sitting in my row who continuously sifted through her large handbag believe she was paying attention to the performance? did I think that seeing a performance is ever less than the entire experience of audience, script, and performance?
Perhaps it's the point I am at in my dissertation or the many conversations I've had recently about the nature of theatre and theatre audiences... I don't know why I find myself dazed in the face of analysis. Saying I did or did not enjoy the experience doesn't convey much information of any use to anyone else. And yet I don't know that I have any commentary or criticism that will offer anything of use or value. Of course if someone happens to read this who was considering attending the production of Endgame it might be of value to her/him.
Wednesday, July 25, 2007
Revisiting The Crucible
After an initial reaction of strong frustration to the Abbey Theatre's recent production of Arthur Miller's The Crucible I have had multiple conversations with individuals who had and hadn't seen the production. Most of them eventually did and then we could return to the discussion with their fresh insights to the evolving production (as all live theatre grows and changes through the span of its performances).
Admittedly, when I went to see the production I was hoping for something that was unlikely to happen: a production of the play that highlighted ambiguities while avoiding a caricature of hysteria. This seemed more possible when I saw that Ruth Negga was in the show and, based on the production stills, seemingly in the role of Abigail Williams. Admittedly not the best performance by which to judge a production as there are anxieties that can make the performances stiff as well as the fact that the actors are still exploring their roles and how they interact in performance, what I did see on the opening night performance were two things I've seen often enough in Dublin to make my heart ache: an enormous Abbey set and actors working REALLY hard.
For those unfamiliar with the Abbey Theatre in Dublin it has what must be an enormous stage (some joke it was to compensate for the shockingly tiny stage at the original theatre) and the sets are often larger than is useful or effective for the performances. When so much of the audience's view is filled by the scenography, is it not logical that it would pull focus? For The Crucible it was a lot of mottled, glossy black walls which, when revealed fully looked like a giant chimney, perhaps intended as a giant crucible. There was an overhead beam suggestive of Puritan homes but there was also a large wedge cutting across the roof space of the Proctor's home that looked like a giant guillotine blade looming over the scene. The costuming was mostly a "period" Puritan look with the striking exception of John Proctor who wore a leather coat and hat which lent him the look of a highwayman more than a farmer.
As for my comment about those hard-working actors, I can't stress enough the ability and effort evident in the performance. A friend who saw it roughly one month into the run of performances said the relationship between John and Elizabeth Proctor had evolved into something profound and nuanced from their first scene to their last when she found it difficult to resist tears. I have been fortunate enough to have seen many of the actors in other productions and was glad to see them again. On the opening night, however, I was aware of the spaces between the actors and gaps in intelligibility of the text.
The most problematic scene for me was the scene in the foyer or antechamber outside the courtroom. In the Abbey production they used the entire stage which seemed a bit large for a Puritan community in 1692. While it accommodated the large cast present during the scene, there was no feeling of tension as to where the characters were positioned in the space and in relation to each other. Proctor and his cohorts mostly occupied stage right while Abigail and her cohorts mostly occupied stage left; Judge Danforth presided over the middle of the stage while a smattering of others filled the gaps in such a way that it became a large muddled crowd with little distinction between the factions rendering it difficult to locate a point of focus during much of the scene.
From my position as an outsider it is difficult to assess precisely how the production with so much potential, so many resources, ended up leaving me unfulfilled and disheartened. In my mind and based on my training, I hold the director accountable for the large-scale lack of integration between the production elements and the points of emphasis in the production. I know this is somewhat unfair because there is much that is beyond the director's control, yet I find the director's task is to navigate through any plans, discoveries, and obstacles to help form a solid production. Ultimately, I don't think I understood what Patrick Mason and his production team were trying to do in the production despite my efforts to do so.
My conversations with trusted and insightful individuals who also saw the production often included encouragement for me to see the show again in its more integrated and evolved state. I did consider it but never made it a high enough priority. But these conversations all helped me articulate myself better, to explain better how it wasn't a question of what I would've done and how it would've been better, but my frustration with seeing so many under-utilized resources, especially the actors. With that pool of talent there was much potential to invigorate that script and challenge the assumptions about the characters (Abigail is a harlot/the devil, Elizabeth Proctor is frigid/depressed, and John Proctor is the hero with a pure heart). To be fair, I've yet to see a production that does this consistently. But I remain hopeful that I will someday get to see a production that does.
Admittedly, when I went to see the production I was hoping for something that was unlikely to happen: a production of the play that highlighted ambiguities while avoiding a caricature of hysteria. This seemed more possible when I saw that Ruth Negga was in the show and, based on the production stills, seemingly in the role of Abigail Williams. Admittedly not the best performance by which to judge a production as there are anxieties that can make the performances stiff as well as the fact that the actors are still exploring their roles and how they interact in performance, what I did see on the opening night performance were two things I've seen often enough in Dublin to make my heart ache: an enormous Abbey set and actors working REALLY hard.
For those unfamiliar with the Abbey Theatre in Dublin it has what must be an enormous stage (some joke it was to compensate for the shockingly tiny stage at the original theatre) and the sets are often larger than is useful or effective for the performances. When so much of the audience's view is filled by the scenography, is it not logical that it would pull focus? For The Crucible it was a lot of mottled, glossy black walls which, when revealed fully looked like a giant chimney, perhaps intended as a giant crucible. There was an overhead beam suggestive of Puritan homes but there was also a large wedge cutting across the roof space of the Proctor's home that looked like a giant guillotine blade looming over the scene. The costuming was mostly a "period" Puritan look with the striking exception of John Proctor who wore a leather coat and hat which lent him the look of a highwayman more than a farmer.
As for my comment about those hard-working actors, I can't stress enough the ability and effort evident in the performance. A friend who saw it roughly one month into the run of performances said the relationship between John and Elizabeth Proctor had evolved into something profound and nuanced from their first scene to their last when she found it difficult to resist tears. I have been fortunate enough to have seen many of the actors in other productions and was glad to see them again. On the opening night, however, I was aware of the spaces between the actors and gaps in intelligibility of the text.
The most problematic scene for me was the scene in the foyer or antechamber outside the courtroom. In the Abbey production they used the entire stage which seemed a bit large for a Puritan community in 1692. While it accommodated the large cast present during the scene, there was no feeling of tension as to where the characters were positioned in the space and in relation to each other. Proctor and his cohorts mostly occupied stage right while Abigail and her cohorts mostly occupied stage left; Judge Danforth presided over the middle of the stage while a smattering of others filled the gaps in such a way that it became a large muddled crowd with little distinction between the factions rendering it difficult to locate a point of focus during much of the scene.
From my position as an outsider it is difficult to assess precisely how the production with so much potential, so many resources, ended up leaving me unfulfilled and disheartened. In my mind and based on my training, I hold the director accountable for the large-scale lack of integration between the production elements and the points of emphasis in the production. I know this is somewhat unfair because there is much that is beyond the director's control, yet I find the director's task is to navigate through any plans, discoveries, and obstacles to help form a solid production. Ultimately, I don't think I understood what Patrick Mason and his production team were trying to do in the production despite my efforts to do so.
My conversations with trusted and insightful individuals who also saw the production often included encouragement for me to see the show again in its more integrated and evolved state. I did consider it but never made it a high enough priority. But these conversations all helped me articulate myself better, to explain better how it wasn't a question of what I would've done and how it would've been better, but my frustration with seeing so many under-utilized resources, especially the actors. With that pool of talent there was much potential to invigorate that script and challenge the assumptions about the characters (Abigail is a harlot/the devil, Elizabeth Proctor is frigid/depressed, and John Proctor is the hero with a pure heart). To be fair, I've yet to see a production that does this consistently. But I remain hopeful that I will someday get to see a production that does.
Tuesday, July 24, 2007
The Eiffel Tower
Did I mention that I went to the top floor of the Eiffel Tower? It was neat. I don't have any of the pictures from that part of the trip, but I will get them eventually. None of them were very good because the tower moves slightly at that height making the slow-exposure, low-light pictures kinda blurred. Or maybe that was just me unable to hold the camera steady for the ten-second-exposure.
For now, here is a picture of the regular night lighting and the special hourly additional lighting.
Memories with Mike
I was just glancing through the pictures from my recent travels and am amazed at how vibrantly I remember everything. I forget how much my senses are dulled by my ability to tune out the daily disturbances versus the heightened awareness of traveling in a new place where I don't speak the language and where there is so much for me to consider.
I am amazed that the trip could've been so simple. We went together and enjoyed almost every minute of it. There were some creepy hotels and some tensions of interpreting directions/maps, but, overall, it went so smoothly that I had to consciously remind myself that it would only last a few weeks. Of course, I quickly decided to enjoy it rather than anticipate its end.
This is a picture of the sunset from Per San Marco in Venice. It was breath-takingly beautiful plaza and the picture doesn't really do it justice. But it gives a suggestion.
Changes in the air
Dublin's weather changes frequently, but I notice the extremity of it more since I've returned. I think there is a real change and not just the shift in my perspective. There will be slashing rain and heavy winds and general high clouds/overcast periods all of which has been a regular occurrence. But there will be a warmth in the air that reminds me it is summer. The humidity can be oppressive at times. And then the sun can come out and I will find myself too warm sitting in the sun and wanting to sit in the shade where, of course, it is colder than I would like. It's difficult to find balance these days.
The changes in how I relate to Dublin and to the people around me is present in my heart and in my mind as well. I don't know how much is that I know I will be leaving soon and how much is processing that some of my friends have already left. I find myself wanting to be alone with my thoughts more often than not only to then find myself struck by the overwhelming desire for someone to comfort me in my ambivalence. I'm realizing it is unfair to pounce on another the way my emotions seem to ambush me and that those (un)fortunate friends cannot really offer the comfort I seek because I can only find that in myself.
So here I am in the midst of fickle weather and fickle emotions: both have patterns if I can find the perspective and peace necessary to reach an understanding. For now, I will try to be patient and to not make any plans that cannot be changed based on the weather or my mood.
The changes in how I relate to Dublin and to the people around me is present in my heart and in my mind as well. I don't know how much is that I know I will be leaving soon and how much is processing that some of my friends have already left. I find myself wanting to be alone with my thoughts more often than not only to then find myself struck by the overwhelming desire for someone to comfort me in my ambivalence. I'm realizing it is unfair to pounce on another the way my emotions seem to ambush me and that those (un)fortunate friends cannot really offer the comfort I seek because I can only find that in myself.
So here I am in the midst of fickle weather and fickle emotions: both have patterns if I can find the perspective and peace necessary to reach an understanding. For now, I will try to be patient and to not make any plans that cannot be changed based on the weather or my mood.
Saturday, July 21, 2007
Hello again.
I've been working and traveling and working and...here I am: a little muddled and having trouble keeping track of which day is which. For the most part this is not an issue because most services (i.e. food) are available every day. It does get a little annoying when I need the library or the bank so I make the extra effort to arrange those errands successfully.
I had a lot of fun traveling around Ireland a bit as well as Italy, a bit of France and a second trip to Amsterdam. I had serious difficulty remembering which language I should speak, even once I got back to Ireland. I was walking through Dublin and thinking I needed to translate into the few words I have in other languages.
I enjoyed some of the silence of being in the midst of people and not speaking because I don't really speak the language(s). I am enjoying the time in my apartment to regroup and get back to my dissertation. The time off was nice in that I could forget some of the details I was agonizing over and focus on the stuff that's remained strongest. My advisor is on vacation, but he assured me that he will be accessing his email so he can help support me in this.
I hope this finds you all well. And I hope no one worried about my lapse into silence. I'm still here and still sane. I am intensely ambivalent about life after August 30th and that's an interesting experience. I really enjoy being in Ireland, but I really miss being able to wrap my arms around my loved ones. And I miss San Francisco. I know I'll come back to Ireland again soon and that makes this all a lot easier. It still hurts, but it's a little easier.
I had a lot of fun traveling around Ireland a bit as well as Italy, a bit of France and a second trip to Amsterdam. I had serious difficulty remembering which language I should speak, even once I got back to Ireland. I was walking through Dublin and thinking I needed to translate into the few words I have in other languages.
I enjoyed some of the silence of being in the midst of people and not speaking because I don't really speak the language(s). I am enjoying the time in my apartment to regroup and get back to my dissertation. The time off was nice in that I could forget some of the details I was agonizing over and focus on the stuff that's remained strongest. My advisor is on vacation, but he assured me that he will be accessing his email so he can help support me in this.
I hope this finds you all well. And I hope no one worried about my lapse into silence. I'm still here and still sane. I am intensely ambivalent about life after August 30th and that's an interesting experience. I really enjoy being in Ireland, but I really miss being able to wrap my arms around my loved ones. And I miss San Francisco. I know I'll come back to Ireland again soon and that makes this all a lot easier. It still hurts, but it's a little easier.
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