A Sunflower Sunday

Mmmmm Sunday. Colour me content. And tired. My (incredibly clean) room is now bedecked with sunflowers from Columbia Flower Market, there was a lot of cycling around town in the sunshine, and all afternoon into the evening was spent at Andy and Mandy's, eating good food and singing, singing, singing.

Insert contented sigh here. It doesn't get much better than this.

Send in the Clowns

I found my clown on Tuesday. Or one of them. And guess what?

She's reeeeeally emotional.

Does this surprise anyone? Probably not. I must admit that I suspected that she'd turn out to be a crier, but in a way I hoped she wouldn't be. I mean, my goodness, this is a part of my personality which is regularly on display, particularly in school, and isn't your clown supposed to be surprising? But then I was talking to Rebecca about it, and she was saying that in a way it was appropriate - another way of looking at clown is that it's taking a serious aspect of your personality and finding a way to laugh at it. And laugh at it we did.

It was really fun, actually. I'm not even sure why I started bawling, but once I did, I got really mad at myself for crying, and people started laughing, and then I started laughing, and then I started crying again. We decided that she doesn't have an "off" switch. She is constantly laughing or crying. There is no in-between.

It takes a lot of energy, though. A lot of energy. And am I going to be able to consistently access that state of extreme emotionality? I don't know. I'm a little intimidated. We'll see if I can pull off repeat performances...

My name is Isabel, and I'm really stupid

We're back! Term three! Clown and the comic worlds! Yowza!

And you know what? It's hard to be funny. We haven't even properly started yet, but it's very clear that this work is going to be at least as challenging as it is joyful. On Monday we started with the Red Nose straight away, and the Birth of the Clown, and it was just a lovely, beautiful thing to see these simple personalities emerge in our colleagues. Some were curious, some were hysterical, some were paranoid, some were very quiet, and all were wide-eyed and wondrous. Very few people managed to be "funny", but to me that was hardly the point, at least so early on. Besides, we've got several more weeks of this work to go yet.

Yesterday was a bit of a change in gears, however - we ditched the red noses in favour of huge wigs, silly hats, and Groucho Marx glasses, as well as other accoutrements of absurdity. The entire afternoon was an exercise in genuine stupidity - how do you enjoy yourself to the extreme regardless of audience reaction? When the proverbial crickets are roaring in your ears because you are so painfully UnFunny, how do you have the time of your life? The last exercise we did was a solo one - people went up one at a time to tell an unfunny joke of their choice, but had to completely crack themselves up in the telling of it. I told the Muffin Joke, a la Janna ("AAAH! I'M ON FIRE!"), and ended up in tears on the floor. Good tears. Laughter tears. And was giggling the rest of the night at it.

I'm willing to bet that this is one of the last times this term that an exercise goes so fantastically well for me. The tides shift so quickly in this work. But how fantastic to have an evening of laughter, of unself-conscious joy. I love this school, and I'm so happy to be back.

(I know I owe a post on Paris. It's coming!)

Paris, je t'adore

Ah, this city. This incredible, breath-taking city of sights, smells, tastes (and European keyboards, which are slowing me down considerably on the typing front.) I am experiencing Paris as never before, and I have Michael and Sylvain to thank.

You'll hear the story of Michael and Sylvain once I'm home in London and can type more than 3 words a minute, but suffice it to say for the moment that I am surrounded by a beautiful language, full of incredible food, and blessed with new, amazing and generous friends. Vive Paris!

Transition time

In five hours, I'll be on a bus to Paris (yes, a bus - we waited too long to book the Eurostar. Ah well). I'm really excited, for obvious reasons (Croissants. Wine. Cheese. AND IT'S PARIS.) But I also think it's going to be really good for me just be out of London for a few days. I'm planning on doing very little else in Paris other than eating, drinking, and walking around. Breathing. Thinking. Reflecting.

The oncoming end of my time at this school (and possibly in this country) has been a more tangible presence in these past few weeks. We have two terms left, one of which will be exclusively rehearsal/creation time, and then the whole world (quite literally) opens up with terrifying, ridiculous possibility. Where will I go? The only thing that I'm certain of at the moment is that I want to be where the art is. I want to be where I can build things with people, and make work that is important to me, and joyful, and challenging, and fun. And realistically, that could be anywhere. That's exciting.

But I'd be lying if I said that there isn't an edge of sadness around the idea of jumping into the rest of my life, both artistic and otherwise. I am very aware, at the moment, of the fact that whereever I choose to be, I will no longer be with some of my newfound collaborators and friends. Not everyone will be in the same place after July, and that makes these remaining months bittersweet. At what other time will I be surrounded by *all* these people, these colleagues, these friends, from *all* around the world, whom I did not choose, but who were thrown in my path and continue to teach me so much? And where do I begin on this fantastic voyage of the rest of my life?

There's not an answer to that, now. That's okay.

Something I will say about LISPA, about the past eighteen months, is that I feel more empowered as an artist and as a performer now than I ever have been. I'm not sure I can explain what a good and important feeling that is. I'm beginning to feel the worth of my art, and it's an amazing thing.

Dreaming ahead

Last night, I went to see a theatre piece devised and performed by 5 LISPA graduates (class of '06) in Elephant and Castle. The work was, as Thomas would say, "an interesting beginning." It's far from perfect - certain aspects of plot weren't clear and performances could have been stronger/characters more definitively drawn - but there are the seeds of something beautiful there. They found some incredible images (white Wellington boots as schools of fish, and the casting of large nets as the waves of the ocean), and the more I spoke to them after the piece about the story they want to tell, the more compelled I was by it. It's so thrilling to see people who have come from this place of chaos and play, who have been spat out into the world and are now fighting to find their way. It's exciting. It's inspiring. And it reminds me about the importance of this work.

Two down, two to go

Another term come and gone, and I couldn't be more pleased. Last week saw our end of term presentation with three tragic choruses, four grotesque/parody pieces, five songs, and an overwhelmingly positive response. So much so that in our class meeting with the teachers following the performance, they said (more or less) "Chill out. You're not that great. Don't let it go to your head." And they're absolutely right. But it felt So Good to do these pieces, and to feel that we'd finally hit on something, and to have the audience respond so positively. At the end of Thursday night, I was on an exhilerated natural high that lasted well into Saturday afternoon. What an incredible way to end the term.

Did Lazarus feel this way?

I've been resurrected! No more sickness! Huzzah!

What's that? I'm going to use my newfound health to sit in front of a computer all day for the entire week?

Well, shit.