Tuesday, June 1, 2010

World Festival of Puppet Art, Prague- Day 1

Well, it's currently day two of the festival (there's a few hours before the next show, so I'm taking some glorious alone time in the hotel to charge my phone and do some writing), so I will review the trip up to this morning. I arrived, after a ridiculous roundabout day of travel(Edinburgh to Glasgow, Glasgow to Manchester, train to Manchester airport, flight to Prague- and yes, I do know there are straight flights from Edinburgh, so don't ask) into Prague airport a little before midnight. I was swept up by a lovely Czech girl with a lime green "Puppet Festival" sign and very little English otherwise. I was then informed that we were also picking up some other people, who turned out to be the Korean puppet group whose flight had been delayed three hours. We were piled into a van and headed for the town centre, where I was dropped at a tiny hotel before the driver whisked away the puppeteers to their accommodations. I grabbed a key and a map from reception and went looking for the room that I shared with my friend, who is also a previous professor of mine. I finally got my stuff organized, pyjamas on, and crawled into bed when the humongous cup of coffee I drank in the Manchester airport (4 hours earlier) kicked in- needless to say, I got very little sleep that night and when the alarm went off at 7 the next morning, was not feeling particularly capable of a day chock full of shows and socialising.

We were running late that morning, so I grabbed a banana and a roll (and thought wistfully of last night's coffee) and headed with my friend to the other hotel, where we would be meeting the rest of the jury and the festival organizers. There are only four jury members (which unfortunately presents the opportunity for a split vote) who attend all of the shows and award the prizes at the end of the festival. My job was to assist my boss, who was one of the jury, in reviewing the shows, and to take my own notes and photos on everything. Upon arrival to the hotel, I learned that we would be taking the subway to the first show, because it was a ways out of the town centre. I also found that we had extra time to grab coffee and breakfast at the hotel before leaving. I was introduced to a few folks, some of whom already knew my professor, and some of the people from the puppet companies. After some disorganized attempts to head off, we finally left for the train station, and then to the theatre where the first performance had just started. The theatre was completely unmarked- there was no way to tell it was even a theatre, and I was grateful to be with a large group of people, some of whom seemed to know what they were doing.

The first show was put on by the Polish company "Tecza", and was a combination of traditional puppetry and modern movement. The puppets were beautiful, detailed wooden puppets, which looked very traditional in style, but the puppeteers were dressed in costume and often came out from behind the puppet stage and influenced the characters. The story was an old fairy tale called "Fern Flower", and had some wonderfully creepy moments, such as a scene where the protagonist is walking through a haunted forest and these scary looking puppets descend on him, stomping against the wood in rhythm with the music as he tries to outrun them. The set was designed so that the wooden planks that were the ground could be raised and rattled, and even flipped to show creepy looking brambles rising from the ground in the forest scene. The play was entirely in Polish, so some of the Czech kids had a few giggles at the Polish words which apparently mean dirty things in Czech.

The second show was the Dwish Theatre company, from Belgium. It was basically one woman who used an amazing set an finger and hand puppets, along with sounds and whistles, to narrate the passage of seasons, time, and life. The show was geared mainly towards kids, but was pretty much a universally magical performance. The stage itself transformed in various ways through the seasons, the squirrels and birds had babies, and the bees pollinated flowers and helped turn them to apples. Absolute magic. I loved this show! (Though I've loved all of them so far!)

The final show of the evening was a three person company from Czech, called Cirkus Zebrik. They performed a series of stories revolving around a town called Beroun, using different styles, props, and characters. They all played musical instruments, acted, jumped on top of things, mingled the occasional English phrase or explanation with the Czech, and coerced participation and even a bit of money from the audience. The stories were full of dark humour, humourous ghosts, death, drowing, and lots of bursting into song. They were so much fun!

Sunday, May 9, 2010

jumbled colours

Well, I obviously am hopeless at keeping a regular schedule of updates. I also haven't much to say, because I haven't been writing that much over the last few weeks. Probably the result of multiple external and internal influences, but my creativity in regards to words has really been on the ebb recently. Also, it was my birthday (I'm a Bealtaine baby!) and massive drinking seems to have an adverse effect on my creative flow. But, I feel a stirring of images in the back of my head, so poems will surely follow (in multitudes, I'm hoping, since I'm supposed to be compiling my dissertation). So I will make another update very soon with some new words, once they begin to take a recognisable form.

Tuesday, April 13, 2010

The odd nursery rhyme never hurt anybody

Maybe a poem a week was a better goal. Here is a draft of this week's, in all its cheesy glory:

70

I stay up late, by candlelight
at the drafting window
I go more miles than I’m supposed to
and come back through night.

As long as the wax is warm
and pools in my palm I move
nimble-toed and taciturn.

In the sunlight mornings
with your warm apple skin
covering my hands, we suss all we can
of the sun, far into westering

sky, until there is nothing for it
except to lay, spent
and cold in the dirt.

You are caked with mud
and mast and all manner
of junk; l take you down to the river
wipe away the twigs and blood

from when I bit your lip,
tasted sugar, and couldn’t stop
until the salt dripped down my chin.

A passerby sees innocents, vexing nature
with our play-dams of twigs and spit
and I am thinking only of
taking myself a tall, cool drink of water.

Comb the winter from my hair
and put it away somewhere; I have
enough candle to get us back a time or two.

I’ll darn your dresses by candlelight
you hem my shirts far from the window-
draft; the distance is dour and slow going
when we're damning ourselves, to outrun the night.

Friday, April 2, 2010

April Resolutions, in high and low

In honor of National Poetry Month, I will... write some poetry. And put it here. I was all geared up to make this resolution about writing a poem a day all month, or something like that, but knowing how I work, that would probably kill any inkling to write for the rest of the month. So I will post a few poems a week, at least, because it's amazing that we have a month dedicated to poetry, and it is also the month of my birth, and of digging in dirt and watching little green lifes begin.
So here is a translation of Miyazawa Kenji's "Village Girl" to kick off with:

村娘   
                   
畑を過ぎる鳥の影
青々ひかる山の稜

雪菜の薹を手にくだき
ひばりと川を聴きながら
うつつにひととものがたる


Village Girl

Birds shadow over fields,
the tips of mountains glimmer green—

immersed in spring-lark and river sounds
I crush the faded snow-mustard stem in my fingers,
talking of lucid and transparent things.

Wednesday, February 17, 2010

Strep throat, raspberry tea, friendly friend fires

Well, pending opinion of a certified doctor, I seem to have contracted the awful deadly miserable virus known commonly as strep throat. So I'm working from bed, drinking raspberry tea and eating lemon raspberry cake and hoping I don't infect my lovely friend who has brought these treats. Also, I have shamelessly been feeding my addiction to the more recent Panic at the Disco album. Yes, I know I am dishonering all of my musical taste to this point, but it's a good album, and it makes me happy. So I don't care what you might have to say about it!

Monday, February 8, 2010

Libraries, Fat Rain Clouds

I have this view outside the fourth floor giant fourth floor windows of the library of these big, fat, grey clouds trundling along, awfully low and blurred by the solid whiteness that they fade into. These are rain clouds. Real rain clouds- not the slate grey, can't tell if they'll rain on you or snow on you or just drape you with a general sense of dreariness and misery, clouds. These are real; heavy air, visible edges, bloated, slightly foreboding (but not storm-like), accented by stillness rain clouds. I am having this lingering notion of being back home in Japan. Or out in the Texas countryside. It really depends on which eye I'm looking through and which memories I'm loitering in. But it feels nice. It feels like home! Rain in Scotland is so...lazy. I want storms, unpredictability, menacing stillness, these things! I remember absolutely hating being in the library during a rainstorm in Tokyo, because the library was so damn hot and you always got soaked and then had to work soggy and steamy, while you couldn't tell if you were trickling rain or sweat from your neck. I have nothing else for today, except that my computer has a crippling virus and is completely unusable, and so I have been forced to relocate to the library for any writing, work, or computer related activities. Sad computer. I'm going to buy some cookies now.

Tuesday, February 2, 2010

Two Months Later!!!

Well oops. I've become a home-loving, embroidery learning, novel reading hermit. And I've neglected everything but writing poetry and reading old novels. Recently, I find myself staring blankly at people whenever they try to conduct a conversation with me. As though I can't figure out why they would do such a thing. Or what is an appropriate thing to say in response. Or really, what the hell they're talking about and why I'm not at home enjoying a good book and a cup of tea. I'm turning into that girl that was raised by wolves and has no idea how to conduct herself with people. Only I don't eat raw meat. Or pee on the shrubs. And as much as I would have like to have been, wasn't raised by wolves. So I have no good excuse. Except that I keep hoping this is maybe just a reflex of having been insanely over social in Tokyo for the last two years, so now my mind and my body are like... stay home! learn how to embroider! Write poems in a Texan accent with random Japanese onomatopoeia! Yes, thank you, brain. What a great idea. Then I can alienate everyone and increase my caffeine addiction. Oh well, this is a happy time. The Edinburgh weather is a weeee bit dreary, but spring planting is only a month away! Turnips and carrots and squash, oh my! And shiso and chamomile and lavender! At least the snow drifts are gone, and hiking and bicycling are now possible again! And walking without slipping and brushing death every two steps. Excuse me death, it's just these damn feet, they don't seem to want to take orders! Sorry if I keep grabbing your robe to steady myself, it's nothing personal, really.
In other news, I have been notified that I have won a Dorothy Sargent Rosenberg prize. Well hot damn. I had forgotten I even entered stuff. I will find out on Friday what this officially means. Until then, I hold my breath and try to keep from doing a little happy dance. So that when Friday comes, I'll have all this suppressed energy that will explode into a BIG happy dance, possibly accompanied by song! And the hugging of random people on the street.
Oh and did I mention that Borges is doing that thing again, where he pops up in really random places? He's been showing himself in all manner of bizarre places over the past few days, and to finish the night, I discover I'm NOT THE ONLY ONE with this weird problem.