The sporadic ramblings of Emily C. A. Snyder - devoted to God, theatre, writing, and much randominity.

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Location: New York, New York, United States

Artistic Director and Co-Founder of TURN TO FLESH PRODUCTIONS. | Author of "Nachtstürm Castle," "Niamh and the Hermit." | Playwright: "Cupid and Psyche," "Math for Actors." | Classical director and educator.

Sunday, December 17, 2006

A-vlogging we will go!

A-vlogging we will go!
Heigh-ho the mpg-oh!
A-vlogging we will go!

I'm doing up an extra, and so - because procrastination is the mother of invention - I whipped up together the below. Actually, I'm really looking forward to break - hope to do a lot of editing, Seven Ages following Matchmaker. Hoopla for projects. Hoopla, too, for time - the healer of many wounds and irrational grudges. Yes, I shall enjoy this break very much indeed.

Went to Mum's and Jules' Lessons and Carols for Christmas this evening. GORGEOUS music, and Father Jonathan sang two solos! Oh, golden voices! Golden voices in golden halls! Now, if only Father Mike would see his way clear to letting Julie go crazygonuts painting on the walls, we might be able to walk into there and think ourselves in Rome.

Very much looking forward to tomorrow/today (how very Volsky of me! Nierian, is it, who wrote the palindrome of that?). Gaudete, gaudete, gaudete! discussions and arming for...whatever is to come. Discussions with family, Jules, Mom, Dad, with God. Of course, who knows where Emily a year from now, or nine months from now will be. (Curious thought - the changes and shifts and constant regestations, rebirths, every nine months or so - huh. Reincarnation in one body?) C'est ca. Let me not think on it.

Watched a bit of Kiss Me, Kate and shook head in wonder at the...50's-ness of it. That and Pirates don't feel as though I did them. Yet, I've the blocking notes somewhere here, I know, and the video and all sorts of witnesses to say that I was present at the event! Curieux, non? It's rather like Niamh - I keep forgetting it exists. Poor little Niamh! And poor writing, so very neglected! Poor little in-stasis Poityr and Elspeth, and Giselle and Theophilus and Juste, and Ceilyn and Caleigh (known as Gawain), and Deirdre and Reid! But rather than get all Jasper Fforde-y, I'll simply state that I do look forward to that time when I have the opportunity to delve back into those worlds and write characters whom I won't direct some few weeks later.

Oh, character! I was working some audition pieces/one-act bits/etc. on Friday with two students and it struck me how many awful plays there are out there. My artistic sensibilities are thoroughly outraged that anyone should have spent time writing it, and then someone else with equally odious taste saw fit to publish it, and another malicious offender to promote it, and some gullible fool to choose it, and another thoughtless fellow to direct it, leaving poor little naifs to do something with absolutely nothing. BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

Booooooooooo to bad plays. Boooooooooo to bad directors who choose them, or if foisted upon, who do nothing with them! Boooooooooo to stage directions and considering them God! Boooooooooo to cookie cutter directing and a bigger booooooooooo to overacting. Booooooooooooo to all those who don't bother to find the truth of a situation, to those who don't delve into what (or Who) is beyond us all, to those who write without either sound or fury and still signify nothing! Booooooooooo to those who don't write confections, but who write the literary equivalent of raisin bran. Diet. Boooooooooo to time spent on shallowness. Boooooooooo to those who think obscene jokes are clever, and who think that constant slapstick is art, and who think that plot is passe and character obsolete.

Give me something rich. If I am to do a musical, I want melodies both complex and yet tuneful, rich in harmonics and yet full of delicate simplicities, that fit the whole of the mood and the moment. If I am to do a play, I want characters with meaning, who struggle, who laugh and long and weep and play. If I am to spend hours, days, weeks, months, years of my life on something, I want to say something worth saying. I want those haunting moments, and those moments of sweet nothings, and those terrible moments of grief and unwonted violence, those moments of complete absurdity - and all of it better than life. I want a taste of the divine. And I will not settle for cardboard nor even for goldleaf. Let there be richness in what we do! True solidity! The fullness to overfullness of all that can be found dancing between Heaven and Earth. Beauty! Gaudete! HA!

Mood: I have a sword, but no immediate battle. C'mon! Bring it!
Music: Ophelia Mix
Randominity: For a description of "being a product of another's subconscious" check out my sister's far-less-obscure post.


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