Comments on The Art of Telling the Truth

These are comments Marc made originally in response to the post on our first meeting. They are important for working on our assignment for the 4/28/06 meeting.

On THE ART OF TELLING THE TRUTH. I want us to produce an evening (coffee house-ish, readings-ish) with the above ironic title and based on our work with that exercise. Last night has inspired me to try and create one (prepared, not improvised) and to write some more about ways of using and developing the exercise. Continue reading “Comments on The Art of Telling the Truth”

Inaugural meeting I: Prep

Newnan School of Dance is located at 30-something Amlajack Boulevard. On Bullsboro, at the Starbuck’s intersection, you turn away from Starbuck’s. A half a mile or so on the right you will see a converted warehouse with a dancer stuck on it; you are pretty much across from the University of West Georgia “Newnan Campus” at this point.

If you have some collapsible soccer mom chairs, bring them. There are a few chairs, but to circle up (loosely, mind you) comfortably, a chair may be kinder than the floor.

Wear comfortable loose-fitting clothes. We will be doing some physical warm-ups and hopefully getting some work done.

Bring a notebook/journal and something with which to write.

Some axioms

Apparently (for I am no mathematician nor a historian of mathematics) there were two famous British mathematicians, G. F. Hardy and J. E. Littlewood, who famously collaborated on a lot of stuff that would have even Marc crying “Reader’s Digest!” Before they began their collaboration, which they did almost exclusively through written correspondence, they decided to formulate some rules which would protect their “personal freedom,” whatever that means.
I think they bear consideration as we begin our own collaboration in considerably closer quarters.

The first of them said that, when one wrote to the other, …, it was completely indifferent whether what they wrote was right or wrong …

The second axiom was to the effect that, when one received a letter from the other, he was under no obligation whatsoever to read it, let alone to answer it …

The third axiom was to the effect that, although it did not really matter if they both thought about the same detail, still, it was preferable that they should not do so.

And, finally, the fourth, and perhaps most important axiom, stated that it was quite indifferent if one of them had not contributed the least bit to the contents of a paper under their common name …

[From the collected works of Harald Bohr, quoted by Bela Bollobás in the foreword to Littlewood’s Miscellany, Cambridge University Press, 1986. ]

Can we get this on a t-shirt?

Marc’s Repry

I’m reposting this from the email because I don’t want it to get lost in email history. It bears consideration and discussion here on the blog.

Marc says:

Noel knows I don’t know what I’m saying half the time, myself. And yet, I go on (Beckett). I cannot keep counsel (Shakespeare). Noel, you complete me (Cruise). You find the meaning I lack.

So one way for me to begin working on an idea is to propose an image which prompts a question. So these are questions prompted quite a while ago by local places and other such things. So listen, everybody, new work can grow out of seeing images and asking questions:

Why would an architecture student insist on designing nothing but impossible playgrounds? Continue reading “Marc’s Repry”

Marc’s handbook

In some other comment, Marc has mentioned the handbook he put together for his GHP students. I’ve been reading through it, it’s more like a textbook!, and beginning to work with him to edit it into a web-based document for our use. The more I read, the more excited I get about our potential as a theatre collaborative. Continue reading “Marc’s handbook”

An example of what I hope to get out of Lacuna

I’ve been asked to share an ensemble experience I had as it relates to Lacuna. In 1997, we were doing A Midsummer Night’s Dream. It was the second time I had directed this play, and I wanted to try something very different. I had brainstormed with Marc some ideas about the play that I had, and had settled on doing it in a kind of environmental setting. In fact, we moved the audience around: they started in nice, neat rows for the Athens scenes, but when we moved to the wild and woolly woods, we asked members of the audience to move their chairs out into the woods with us: they could chose where to put their seats anywhere in the oval-shaped playing area.

Before we began working on the script itself, we spent a couple of weeks with Marc trying to teach us some of his weird stuff, some of which sunk in and we were able to use. I taught ways to approach and play Shakespearean text. Everybody participated. We had a large cast, ages nine to 40+, and everyone learned what was being taught, weird or not. Continue reading “An example of what I hope to get out of Lacuna”