- Been this way since 18, but lately .

Just some casual music makin' with the lovely Megan Lavoie and myself, in a cover of Ed Sheeran's "The A Team".

- Jamie Rae .

When I first met Tommy, he confused me. He was just like every other guy I had turned away in my life that had become obsessed with having the latest and greatest beautiful girl hanging off their arm. I mean, I knew I was pretty. I had always known that for the most part. I was awkward and had an overly strong sense of independence. I knew that what I wanted for my life, and rather than expecting to find a man to enhance it, I knew that men complicated things. I feared emotion because it strayed from the logical world I lived in, and had no relation to the imaginary world I had created in my head. I was a superhero and a business man all at the same time, and the last thing I needed was somebody to come along and try to be another hero... I can save myself.  

                Maybe it was my confidence that attracted them. Even though I was internally terrified of just about everything around me, I carried myself in a way different than the other girls who looked like me. They were all timid and giggly with their chests pushed out, indirectly proclaiming that they need someone to swoop down and complete them. I held myself tall for others to see, even when I didn’t feel tall myself. That’s what kept them interested: the age old fact of people wanting what they can’t have.

                I met Tommy in the park… well, sort of. I didn’t really meet him, he kind of met me. I decided to take my notebook down to the river for the afternoon, to sit down on my favorite rock just off the running path on the edge of the river. It was the first real warm day since the winter, and I put on a dress in the morning. “Jamie Rae,” my mother screeched when I walked down the stairs in the morning in that condescending, nasal tone. “That dress makes you look like a hooker.” The way she says hooker makes your spine cringe the exact same way that it does when she says Rae as she drags out the vowels of the word. Hooker. The dress was short and flowy, with buttons from the waist up. The peach color was lighter than my skin tone and brought out the red tones in my hair that was gently braided over my shoulder. I knew I looked far classier that your everyday hooker, but for some reason that day was the one day that I didn’t actually care what my mother said. I wasn’t planning on going to any of my classes, rather spending the day by myself in the sun. So the fact that I looked like an apparent hooker wasn’t a real concern.

I was okay with being alone. I mean, I was a writer, well… kind of. I didn’t really write, per se, I more recorded my imagination. People would say that it’s the same thing, but I disagree. My imagination goes to these amazing places that would exist whether I chose to write them down or not. I was a thinker… most definitely a thinker. So I decided to take my notebook down to the river for the afternoon, to sit down on my favorite rock just off the running path on the edge of the river. I was in the mood to think, to be alone, and to blissfully escape into a world I was familiar with.

Maggie: a 70 year-old wife of an abusive husband. I don’t really know why my mind always jumped to her first. I often wrote about her world, morphing the grotesque details of the events in her life into colorful words that give people shivers when they read about her and her son. Maggie was fictional, of course, but I identified with her more than I’d ever really identified with another person. I loved thinking about Maggie, especially when nobody was concerned with what I was thinking about. Some days I’d be in class with my notebook and people glare over my shoulder in disgust of seeing the words describing the way Maggie’s husband looked at her son. To me, it was recording, giving Maggie a voice. To them, it was disgusting, regardless of whose voice it was. So that day in the park, sitting in my dress with my notebook and not a care in the world, those are the kind of days I liked to think about Maggie the most.

That very day as I sat up against my favorite rock on the edge of the water, Maggie was telling me about the first time that her son found out she had known what her husband was doing since the day that it first happened. Her words shook as they transferred onto the notebook, as I was taken back into a world that exists beyond here. The runners would pass me in the sunshine, and the rhythmical pattern of their steps would take me further onto the page and the sound of the river at my feet was constant; calming. I felt beautiful; but not in the way that people saw me. Sure, I was physically attractive in the moment. I had my dress draping perfectly over my lap and my hair curling and flowing over my shoulder as if it went on forever. And my eyes… I mean, I knew I was pretty, but pretty isn’t what I felt. It was something that only I could understand in that moment: free, like I was glowing from the inside out in a way that only I was able to experience.

Even though that ten seconds of unexplainable beauty had felt like hours in the moment, that moment didn’t last as long as I had hoped it would. I was dancing with Maggie’s dark nostalgic words across the page when the sunshine was taken from the sky, and within an instant I was brought back to being plain old Jamie Rae, the recorder. The sun wasn’t exactly stolen, rather just blocked… by a stranger. It was a tall, broad shouldered man with perfect hair and a face that could stop a thousand hearts; exactly the kind of guy that I had turned away time and time again. He just sort of, well, stood there. He stared, and I stared back. I had examined every distinct feature of his face, every perfect curl in his hair, the intricate sharpness of his jawline. I stared back until the silence had passed the point of tolerable and began easing into awkward. His perfect jawline hesitated to move as if he was confused as to what to say next. Rather, what to say at all. It seemed as if he had planned out his approach until the exact moment that he arrived in front of me. As he hesitated, he finally took a deep breath, glancing quickly at his feet he then looked up at me once again. “Why would a girl like you ever have anything to do with a guy like me?” I stood up from the ground, confused but intrigued. It took me a minute to look back at him, because I knew he was just like every other one. I liked being alone. My world worked for me. I wasn’t willing to leave it just to be his newest pretty girl hanging off his arm. I didn’t even know who he was, but something about him made me want to find out. I repeated his question he had asked a million times over in my head before I was even realized he was waiting for an answer. He stood there patiently, just as caught up in the moment as I seemed to be. It wasn’t romantic; it was just perfectly awkward in a way that that seemed habitual. Why would I ever have anything to do with a guy like that? “Why not?” 

- IPP Guidelines .

Independent Project and Portfolio

Choose Between: 
a) Devising Practice: "the maker"
or 
b) Exploring Practice: "the researcher"

Devising Practice : CARNIval .

Focusing on the preparation, action, and reflection of the process. It is important to show how the research came at the start of the process, and that CARNIval was created in order to parallel Aristotle, not the other way around. 

• Based on RESEARCH
• Aristotle's "The Poetics"
• Research on Cannibalism
• Must demonstrate an understanding of the pieces of a production are put together and made cohesive in the final performance
• the stimulus
• Radio Box
• set
• costume
• script
• characterization
• rehearsing
• ect.
• 3000 word written component

Evaluation:

• Preparation
• Perseverance
• Initiative
• Process
• Understanding of theatre elements
• Reflection
• Learning
• Development
• Starting point vs. Ending point
• Presentation
• How is portfolio presented ?
• relevant to project
• cited
• word count met (3000 limit)
• format:
• table of contents
• introduction
• clearly marked sections
• conclusion
• sources
• Application of Research and Practice
• Influence of Research
• relevant to development of project

Click to view example IPP : 48/50
Click to view Assessment Criteria: page 30

- Consequence of Sound .

Theatre in its entirety is based off of voice , or lack there of . Each moment on a stage in which a person is NOT talking is symbolic in one way or another , yet from a writiers perspective, the voice is crucial. When creating theatre , through collaborative efforts, like our class plays, vocalising ideas and visions collectively were what made it proper in its entierity . the suicide scene is simply nothing but "words" and yet it makes people cry. From there i can go into how my main struggle for the first portion was the fact that i couldnt articulate my ideas, i couldnt formulate words for what i wanted. 

Acting: Tone of Voice

·         Suicide Scene, actors can only respond to tone of voice.

§  Suicide scene photo

·         Closing lines from CARNIval “and let me speak to the yet unknowing world”

·         The Lovely Bones, rain scene with daughter and mother (book)

·         Recreating my voice in suicide scene, making Roberta my own.

o   Rehearsals, used word for word script, and on first night of run I stuck to script. Once we made the changes to the script, it turned into adlibbing through my own voice, allowing it to fit better coming from me. As a result, Roberta was received differently and better by the audience. It became more “real” once I had my own phrasing and tone of voice as opposed to sticking to the script.

·         Stanislavski’s method acting

o   bringing your own voice to the stage, having your voice influencing characters voice (acting vs. being)

·         Music

o   Different tones and voices for different types of music and different scenes

§  Alexa singing the musicals in ANATOME vs. Me singing the blues in CARNIval, each voice was fitting for the cause

·         Insect: a voice with no face

Writing: Creating Voices for Others

·         Creation of Doc, a character created through the voices of others

o   Shakespeare, alice in wonderland,

o   Creating my own perspective through the initial eyes of others

§  PHOTO OF HAYLZ

·         ANATOME, writing for ourselves rather than a created character, such as Maggie

o   process of character sketch with Joel, how once the back story was created, Maggie’s voice had become my own

·         Recreating my voice in suicide scene, making Roberta my own.

o   Connected to acting voice

Creating: Finding your Voice

·         CARNIval vs. ANATOME, planning process and finding my own voice (articulating ideas)

o   Not marrying your ideas

o   Getting your point across

o   Finding different ways to sort your ideas rather than explaining them

o   Improved communication

·         Collaborative efforts (class plays) vs. individual efforts (directing project: atmospheres and PPP)

o   CARNIval and ANATOME were both created through multiple opinions and mindsets

o   Pheonix became this huge production created by one mind, but once the project was over

·         Voicing societal taboos, such as molestation, suicide, cannibalism as means of survival,

o   Process of contemplating being offensive vs. challenging perspectives.

o   Giving the silent a voice on a stage (Theatre of the Oppressed, Agusto Boal)

§  Creating Maggie : “I created my own hell by keeping the secrets I couldn’t dare to confess”

·         1st person, but a spectators perspective

Absence of Voice

·         Tosca Café vs. ANATOME, suicide scene

o   no words in Tosca Café left the development resting twice as strong on body language and facial expression vs the use of 100% dialogue in the suicide scene

§  Frank Capra’s perspective on the introduction and importance of dialogue into theatre and film

·         Installation, Bali: was the creation of a woman’s society

o   The basis of the society was the silence, and the lack of speech created and enhanced the atmosphere

·         Entirety vs. moments

o   Tosca Café vs. the ending of CARNIval with Caroline on the hook, AFTER she stops screaming for help.

§  The silence of her accepting her fate in that moment spoke so loudly that words would’ve made it less powerful

§  Tosca Café had to use music to make up for the emotions that couldn’t be expressed in words due to the nature of the play

Breathe by Samuel Beckett

·         “the silence is more important than the note itself” The eighth note

- ANATOME: xx/xy .

March 28th-30th , 2012 .

"All Life Is Struggle"
A battle of the sexes that leads to the realization that the struggling and suffering that actually matters in time are just as bad, regardless of sex.

The title: ANATOME: xx/xy
Anatomy, meaning separate or apart from, was changed to ending with "me", claiming that the opposite sexes (male: xy, female: xx) are separate from yourself.

The Stories:
The most difficult part of the play was writing from our own experiences. I'm used experience influencing art, but having experience alone be the creation of it was different. Putting real stories on a stage left me caught up in the details of the stories, and "recreating" rather than simply creating from scratch. I also much rather take on a character, than play myself.

- Hamlet .

"And let me speak to the yet unknowing world
How these things came about: so shall you hear
Of carnal, bloody, and unnatural acts,
Of accidental judgments, casual slaughters,
Of deaths put on by cunning and forced cause."

- Reading Joseph .

Reading Joseph:

Joe is a storybook character. He is the red thread throughout a bunch of smaller stories that he experienced in his life, focusing on himself, or someone he was “tied” to. He realizes that someone else is creating his story rather than dictating what his life is for himself, and so in response he decides he will break free from these to create himself. Screw the man.

1.       Joe’s birth

2.       Joe’s first

3.       Joe’s last

4.       Joe’s return

5.       Joe’s epiphany

- Heartbreak .

HEARTBREAK:

They’re on a double date in public. Couple A dating for a year. Been fighting lots, nobody knows. Couple B is brand new. All 4 of them are friends. Small talk happens, couple B leaves because _________. Couple A starts to bicker, gives way that it’s a frequent occurrence. Girl A : “im so done”, goes to find girl B in bathroom. Guy B comes back. Guys start talking about how relationship A and its face value vs. its actual horror. They decide there’s an end to couple A, it’s not worth it. Girls decide its worth fighting for.  Girls return, guy B takes girl B so couple A can talk. Guy ends it, girl B comes to take girl A home. Couple B is now the steady couple.

Girl A: Luke

Guy A: Morgan

Girl B: Alexa

Guy B: Tyler

- Production Ideas .

Irish Actress : Fiona Shaw speaks of the evolution of the audience for theatre. The audience will not come as a mass to the theatre to purely watch a show, but they expect to be involved in the progression.
Memory: the essence of the theatre

Bare brick wall, 11 stools, breaking the 4th wall.

- Character Sketch : Maggie

I worked at a diner in the 1950's as a waitress. At almost 20 years old, I saw Jimmy come in every once in a while come in with a friend. He was young, bright, almost goofy, but everyday i just gave him his coffee, smiled and moved on to my next table. He was fresh out of University, going on to become the television broadcaster of the town, everyone knew Jimmy. After the first few times, he started coming alone and would start a small conversation with a little more depth each time. One day, he asked me to sit down and have a coffee with him. I was just finishing my shift, so he waited. He was smooth, smart, knew what he wanted and how to get it, and he was funny as could be. I fell in love with him the first I sat down for coffee.
Once i found out his father had died, i began to try to convince Jimmy to let me meet his mother. Becoming a part of her life was a slow integration, but as Jimmy began working more, his mother and i began to find comfort in one another. Jimmy and i got married, and once he left for work, i would head over to his mothers house. She began to teach me the secret tips of being a housewife. She taught me all the secret recipes passed down from the family, and how to fold a perfect bed sheet. After a few years, I stopped seeing his mother, feeling as if i had learned all i needed to. After all, we had a child on the way.
I was 25 when I had my only child, Paul. He was the one love of my life, besides Jimmy of course. He was to grow up to be strong, independent, successful; that was Jimmy's place. My job was to ensure he was happy, and knew how to treat a woman. I felt a love for Paul that i didn't even know was possible. Jimmy often took him fishing, and Paul would come home laughing about the day. Together, we would set the table and prepare the house for Jimmy to come home from work with dinner on the table and he would tell us about his day. Before bed, Jimmy and I would take turns tucking in Paul, say our prayers, and go to bed. I never wanted my boy to forget to count his blessings and be grateful for what Jimmy's job brought us.
He was 12 years old when it had first happened. They had gone fishing earlier that day, and when they arrived home late in the evening. Dinner was on the table and we all sat down to eat. Jimmy was different that night. I didn't understand why he dismissed Paul when he spoke, and as i cleaned up the dishes from the awkwardly quiet dinner, it was Jimmy's turn to tuck him in and say their prayers. I remember standing in the kitchen, letting the sink overflow as i stood there frozen, hearing my baby scream. I knew Jimmy was angry, but I had never imagined it possible. I stood there reviewing the past 12 years of our marriage, looking for signs in Jimmy's behavior. I considered leaving. Taking Paul and getting out of the house; but we couldn't. We needed his money much more than his company. All I knew was that very night i was expected to lay in bed next to the man who laid his hands on my only child, and worst of all, I was supposed to love him as if i never knew. To protect my child, that was how i was to carry on my life: pretending i never knew.
I started spending every minute i could with Paul, because i knew that every minute he was with me, he didn't have to be with Jimmy. I began asking him to come to the kitchen with me to prepare dinner, or to teach him how to do the dishes. I realized the more things i taught him to do on his own, the faster he could move out and away from Jimmy.
There were always the days i knew i couldn't protect him, and those were the days that were the hardest to get through. I would offer to tuck in Paul every night, telling Jimmy that "I could use the extra prayers, I should count my blessings." but every once in a while, Jimmy would raise his voice and insist that i was to sit on the couch and occupy myself while he tucked in Paul. "The boy needs to grow up", he used to tell me. As Jimmy would make his way upstairs, i would play the piano to drown out the noise.
When it was just me and him, Paul began mentioning what it would be like to move out. He was 15 at the time, so telling him that it could be a good life experience for him, i encouraged it, if only he knew how bad i just wanted to scream out and get him to run while he could. When he was 16, he left and never came back.
I kept in touch with Paul after he left. He would call on the first Tuesday of every month while Jimmy was at work. As time went on, I could tell that life on his own was good. He told me about a woman he met and how he wanted to spend the rest of his life with her. He would end every conversation reminding me to be strong and count my blessings. Soon enough, he stopped calling.
I spent the next 6 years laying beside the man i pretended to love, keeping secrets i never intended to tell. I stayed, because that's what i was raised to do. I continued on with my seemingly perfect life. Everyday when Jimmy came home, the house was clean and dinner was on the table. I would laugh at Jimmy's jokes, and bite my tongue when he'd express false interest in how Paul's life was coming along. I swore to myself that Jimmy would never see me cry. In these 6 years, i had created my own hell by keeping the secrets i couldn't dare to confess.
2217 days came and left before i heard from Paul again. The day he called back, my mind jumped back to that first day it happened when i was standing in the kitchen. 14 Years had passed since that night they went fishing, that sink overflowed, and Paul was left to count his few blessings on his own, yet i still felt that same guilt that i was unable to protect him to the extent i wish i could've.
On the phone that day, I found out i had 4 grandchildren: the oldest boy and 3 girls, twins and the youngest. The eldest was the protector, and all the girls followed him. The twins were directly reflective of one another. They completed each others sentences and were virtually inseparable at the ripe age of four. The youngest girl had just been born. She had my eyes and her mothers smile. It was at that point I realized my life was about to change. I asked Paul about his wife. What was she like? Would I be able meet her soon enough? His voice dropped. The depth and joy in his words while explaining his children were gone and all that remained were empty words. He slowly explained that he lost her during the birth of the youngest, brightest girl. There he stood, with four children under the age of 6, and he couldn't do it anymore. 14 years from the day i chose to do nothing, he needed me once again. So I agreed. I took his children off his hands to protect them from the street. Jimmy and I took in our grandchildren that we didn't even know existed, and within a few days, we were the parents of young children once again, and Paul had ran away for the second time in his life.
I looked at Paul's children as my own; as my second chance. I would protect these children as I wish I had protected Paul. In my mind, by this point, Jimmy had changed. It had been 9 years since Jimmy last laid his hands on my child, and after becoming my own worst enemy, I had to force myself to believe that he'd changed.

- Improv Workshop .

Grade 10 focus:

The "platform - tilt - new platform" system: 

Platform: set the scene initially. Through stating the norm allows for the change and problem to be clear to the audience. "Every day I ..."

Tilt: the point where the storyline differs from the norm that was initially platformed. "But one day ..."

New Platform: how the new norm is established from the tilt. This is finding the conclusion in response to the tilt. "Now I ..."

The game used: Word at a Time 

Setting Up Conflict:
Who: state the characters or who is present
Where: setting
What: conflict
Why: why is the conflict important/ how does it raise the stakes
How: how is it solved/ resolved
Characterization Focus:
Status: out of the characters in the scene, "who trumps who".
Traits: movement, what do you lead with? (legs, arms, chest, face) 

- PPP : The Pitch .

History has proven that when faced with competition, there can ultimately only be one.  Exploring a twisted perception of misplaced history, “Phoenix” has found inspiration and influence from across the globe. Spanning from the Soviet Union, across Europe, to the United States, many aspects of worldwide history were brought together under the concept of vacillation.  The play demonstrates the fluctuation of society’s faith between political and religious ideologies, ultimately demonstrating their inability to coexist, as first shown through the conversion of Hagia Sophia. Within this production, different events in history are gathered together into a production ultimately criticizing the western world’s misconception of the functionality of coexisting and multiculturalism. With the economic struggle of a small Catholic community in the midst of the Great Depression comes along a communist dictator, offering hope to the hopeless people. Through the installation of communism, the abolition of religion leaves the community to swing their faith from God to The Dictator in hopes of a better tomorrow. In this fictional spin on authentic events, history is retold to ignite the minds of the mature spectators of this Epic Drama. Exploring concepts such as paranoia, martyrs, murders, and corruption, the unique approach of both Epic and Dramatic Theatre within a single production will force the audience to think on a global scale of action creating a solution to the western world’s struggle with acceptance of too many. 

- PPP : Brecht's Epic vs. Stanislavski's Dramatic .

Finding the "Happy-Medium":

Is it possible to mix epic theatre with dramatic theatre and still leave the audience reacting the way you envisioned? Is it possible to vacillate between the two theatre styles and end up at a final conclusion of neither one nor the other? What if this production were to be considered an “epic drama”? 

Within the production, the vacillation between communism and catholicity is explored. What if both communism and catholicity each possessed an opposing style of theatre? The catholic side would be dramatic, containing feelings, emotional connection, sympathy and understanding. Many of the theatre characteristics and styles related to the religious characters and scenes of the piece would reflect many of Stanislavski's theories.

The communist side would be rather cold and distant. The dictator, rather than being viewed as a person, is viewed as an object which Brechtian theatre encouraged. 

The production as a whole would lean slightly towards the dramatic side, containing a plot, wearing down the audience, but in turn contains aspects of epic theatre such as historification, providing a picture of the world leaving the audience in an analytical mindset as they leave the theatre, though they were emotionally engaged throughout the performance. Throughout the piece, the audience would be expected to experience the vacillation between the two theatre styles as well as the vacillation between the two ideologies within the storyline. The piece as a whole would be an extreme fluctuation of opinions, as vacillation was initially defined. 

How this would affect the acting:

Ultimately, this would split the actors into two specific groupings: one group epic, and one group dramatic. As a director, a different approach must be made in the coaching of each acting group. The main difference between the two styles is the aspect of "becoming'" the character. Stanislavski, the philosophical influence for the dramatic theatre group, would offer many coaching techniques to use in rehearsal. Brecht, on the other hand, would use exercises with his actors getting them to explain the choices the characters made. To become a narration of their mind rather than become emotionally intact with the character. With the characters reflecting communist principles, their acting would reflect the collective, whereas the actors reflecting catholic principles would reflect the individual. 

In the bigger picture, this will affect the audience to adhere to the anti-communist perspective of the storyline due to their affinity to the catholic side of things. With the communist portion reflecting characteristics of epic theatre, this will aid in showing the insanity that the dictator gives into. Giving such contrast between the two styles, it will be made clear to the audience the lack of emotional attachment intended for the dictator, whereas the audiences sympathetic responses to Person A will come with greater ease. The final scene, since at that point communism had fallen, will be done in only dramatic theatre, though the lack of dialogue will not engage the observer more than it had already engaged with the mix between the two. As a whole, the vacillation of styles in this epic drama will aid in the reinforcement of the overall concept that there can only be one. 

- PPP : Bertolt Brecht .

(1898-1956) Originally starting out in medicine, Brecht served in WWI as a medical orderly. Once he returned, he went back to university to study literature. Most interested in Chinese philosophers and English writers, he became a poet, play-write, and theatre director.

Brecht's plays reflected a perspective in favor of communist societies. Living in Germany in 1933 when Hitler came into power, he was forced to flee the country to live in Sweden, Denmark, and the Soviet Union. Interestingly enough, a majority of his plays were anti-Nazi. During the Cold War, Brecht was living in the USA, where he was accused of being a communist. Though he denied it, he ended up leaving America to East Germany. 

The alienation (or verfremdungseffekt) effect: 

"Brecht attempted to develop a new approach to the the theatre. He tried to persuade his audiences to see the stage as a stage, actors as actors and not the traditional make-believe of the theatre. Brecht required detachment, not passion, from the observing audience. The purpose of the play was to awaken the spectators' minds so that he could communicate his version of the truth."

Wishing for distance rather than emotional engagement, Brecht often used tools like signs to disengage the spectators from believing in the fourth wall. Contrasting to the more common dramatic theatre, epic theatre looks to achieve a spectators perspective, analyzing what happens on stage igniting the will to take action. The distancing of the spectator from the play allows for the rejection of entertainment at face value.

CLICK TO ENLARGE
Source: http://www.usq.edu.au/artsworx/schoolresources/goodwomanofszechwan/dramaticvsepic

Brechtian stage design and lighting differ much from the norms of dramatic theatre due to the analytic nature. Brecht saw the need to light the stage brightly at all times, and since there was no concept of "mood" or emotional attachment, lighting in that sense was not necessary. The creation of illusion wasn't needed through lighting, or on the stage at all for that matter. Any sort of distraction that may emotionally pull an audience member into the characters emotional side was avoided on stage.

- PPP : Director's Concept .

Pendulum :
A weight suspended from a pivot allowing it to swing from one one side to the other, than back again.

With society at the pivot point, and the red weight symbolizing faith, in relation to the context of the play, pendulum shows the swinging from one way of life to the other, with the eventual return to its starting place. By seeing a pendulum, with both ideologies at each extreme, it shows how ultimately there can only be one.

- PPP : Set / Stage Possibilities .

Brechtian Influence:

Treadmill Stage: 

running belts on the stage floor that, when active, provide the illusion of movement though characters stay stationary. 

Options: Transitions from one setting to the other without a scene change
Disadvantages: Background and set, depending on complexity, would have to move at the same rate as the person. If the set is complicated and consists of more physical properties rather than projections, it makes it difficult to coordinate.


Interactive LED Floor :

Possible Options: Showing footprints in ashes of the fallen church. Showing path of fire in response to the dictator.
Disadvantages: Can LED project dark colors? How could you position the audience for them to see the floor effects, but not have the quality of the production limited. Would you be able to make a treadmill out of an LED floor?

Video Projection Mapping :

http://www.videomapping.tumblr.com/ 

Possible Options: Allows for change of set between exterior and interior of church, as well as inside the house of person A without a scene change. Ex the scene can continue, while characters walk on the treadmill. It allows for smooth transitions because the set would change as the characters moved.
Disadvantages: The image at times would be cast upon the characters themselves. May be too detailed of a set in regarding relevance of the storyline: Whats the focus?

- PPP : Possible Story-line .

·         Setting is established in a Roman Catholic Cathedral, time of international crisis where faith is all that’s left.

o   A real sense of community is reinforced, at the same time made clear that everyone is struggling.

·         A communist dictator (character must being appealing to audience) comes into power overthrowing the current democracy gaining the support of the people offering a simple solution to the complex problems the world has brought on

o   The conversion to communism offers hope to the people of the church, shining a new light on the future.

o   The catholic religion was used for scapegoating, blaming Jesus Christ for not saving his people by now

·         Ordering the abolition of religion, the dictator assigns a group to tear down all evidence of religion.

o   Planning on tearing down the building of Hagia Sophia in hopes of removing the presence of God in the town, the dictator overrules the plans and claims the stripped building as headquarters.

o   Head of the group assigned attempted to object the idea of keeping the building standing, fearing that the building has too much symbolism in its architecture.

§  SPOLIA: the building was made up of other religious artifacts as well

o   To install fear into the citizens, the dictator orders the public execution of the rebel, reinforcing to the citizens that the absence of religion is a demand, and for the better.

·         Meanwhile, person A tries to rally up the Catholics, trying to keep their religion alive but the recent installment of fear left them even more doubtful than before.

·         As the dictator continued to enforce communism, and eliminate religion, more and more people began disappearing, including the daughter of Person A, who attempted to tell a school-boy who God was to her.

·         The spirits that still exist within the building of Hagia Sophia begin taunting the dictator, heightening his paranoia allowing for him to begin second guessing all he’s done to the city.

·         Person A, who is now alone in her attempt to keep God alive, goes to town square to protest the abolition of religion

o   People initially act in ignorance, in fear of the dictator seeing them as a part of the rally

o   People came from apartments, stores, everywhere to see the commotion, all helping them remember what they believed in and why they believed in it

o   Person A is killed by the dictators army

·         The prosecution of person A was the last straw for the dictator. Now possessed by the spirits within Hagia Sophia, he burns down the building with himself in it showing the death of communism.

o   And from its ashes, Catholicity will rise once again as the funeral for person A is held by the citizens on the grounds of the burnt cathedral.

·         The church is rebuild on the grounds, with the central dome built higher, closer to God and heaven once the community had regained their faith.

- Chinese Red String of Fate .

Kiefer Sutherland appeared on Ellen to promote the new TV series "Touch". In the explanation of the premise of the show,  he talked about an ancient Chinese fable called the Red Thread Theory:

"Everybody who is supposed to come into contact with each other in the course of a lifetime is connected by a red thread that's loosely wrapped around their ankle and the thread can stretch and it can bend but you cant break it. And somehow through the industrial revolution, through our technological revolution, we've broken that thread and my son is using me to try and reconnect all the little pieces."

Similar to the concept of soulmates, it's said that the two people connected are destined lovers regardless of any possible conflicts.

- PPP : Organizing Ideas .

CLICK TO ENLARGE 

- PPP: A Second Look at Hagia Sophia .

The building:

• On MAY 7^TH, 588, the dome collapsed on the alter, the ambom, and the ciborium
• Collapsing on the alter foreshadowed the collapsing of the Catholic presence in Constantinople
• The dome was elevated by 6.25 meters when rebuilt
• First Muslim to pray in Hagia Sophia would goto paradise
• Similar to crawling under the wooden pillar in Todaiji Temple in Japan
• The original church was rumored to be destroyed by Constantinus II, because it was too small
• Destroyed by riots in January 532 and rebuilt bigger and more prestigious by 537
•  Sultan Mehmet II overtook the church and converted it into a mosque, where he centerd his empire
• Constructed primarily of spolia:
• columns, stones, and fragments ect. from conquered nations

- PPP : Choosing the Stimulus .

After thorough consideration between the Vitruvian Man and Hagia Sophia, I decided on Hagia Sophia because of the depth within the two contrasting religions, as well as more potential within the ideas that came out of the first impression. Though the Vitruvian Man holds immense mystery, my favorite ideas from the image are rather shallow.

- PPP: Exploring Stimuli , part 1 .

Hagia Sophia

First Impression

·         Does God truly exist within a certain building, or do you bring “him” there

·         Raw religion

o   Stripped to nothing during conversion

o   Superficiality of the church

·         Interaction between a person from each religion during church conversion

o   Possible religion conversion?

o   Realization of decentralized powers

o   Creation of a whole new “church”

·         Rebuilt higher, closer to “heaven”

o   After religious doubt, grow closer all together once rebuilt

·         Existing “voices” from previous religion

o   Could the voices from the old religion combine with them of the new?

Looking into More Depth

                Hagia Sophia was built in Istanbul in 360 meaning “Holy Wisdom”. Initially, it served as an Orthodox Patriarchal Basilica, where it was then converted to a Roman Catholic cathedral, and later a mosque.

Heightened Curiosity

·          Made of Ashlar: symbolic of …?

·         Similar and differences beliefs between religions

o   Could a new religion be made out of similarities?

Vitruvian Man

First Impression

·         Centered

o   Naval is the first and last connection with mothers

§  Family at core

§  Maternal instinct

o   What about people without navels

§  Demonized

§  Unbalanced

§  “crazy”

·         2 people overlapping

o   Man vs. woman

§  Common characteristic exists at centre

·         No difference of sexes because their ultimately centred together

§  Man stands in front of woman, woman reaches higher

·         Untold story of the hidden woman

·         Section above head

o   Heaven?

§  Man is centred with space above his head

·         Thought capacity

·         Is it truly centred for those who do not believe in religion?

Looking into More Depth

                Created in 1487 by Leonardo Da Vinci, the Vitruvian Man is based off of the ideal proportions of man describe by Vitruvius. It showed a direct relation between proportional art and scientific nature. He believed that the Vitruvian man was to be an analogy for the workings of the universe.

Heightened Curiosity

·          What was happening in Italian society circa its creation

·         What led to da Vinci’s obsession with proportion?

o   “Perfect Circle” insanity theory

- Oh, The Places You'll Go .

by: Dr. Seus

You will come to a place
Where the streets are not marked.
Some windows are lighted.
But mostly they're darked.

A place you could sprain both
Your elbow and chin!

"Do you dare to stay out?
Do you dare to go in?"

"You can get so confused
That you'll start in to race down
Long wiggled roads at a break-
Necking pace..."

And grind on for miles across
Weirdish wild space, headed, I fear,
Toward a most useless place.

The Waiting Place.

...for people just waiting.
Waiting for a train to go.
Or a bus to come, or a plane to go
Or the mail to come, or the rain to go
Or the phone to ring, or the snow to snow
Or waiting around for a Yes or No
Or waiting for their hair to grow.
"Everyone is just waiting."

Waiting for the fish to bite
Or waiting for wind to fly a kite
Or waiting around for Friday night
Or waiting, perhaps, for their Uncle Jake
Or a pot to boil, or a Better Break
Or a string of pearls, or a pair of pants
Or a wig with curls, or Another Chance.
Everyone is just waiting.

NO!

That's not for you!  Somehow you'll
Escape all that waiting and staying.

"You'll find the bright places where
Boom Bands are playing."

---------------------------------

"I'm afraid that some times you'll
play lonely games too."

Games you can't win
'cause you'll play against you.

All Alone, whether you like it or not,
Alone will be something you'll be quite a lot.

And when you're alone, there's a
very good chance you'll meet things
that scare you right out of your pants.

"There are some, down the road
between hither and yon, that can scare
you so much you won't want to go on."

But on you will go though the weather
be foul.  On you will go though your
enemies prowl.  On you will go though
the Hakken-Kraks howl.  Onward
up many a frightening creek,
though your arms may get sore
and your sneakers may leak.

On and on you will hike.
And I know you'll hike far and
face up to your problems
whatever they are.

You'll get mixed up, of course,
as you already know.

"You'll get mixed up with many
strange birds as you go."



- The Diary of a Fucked Up Dreamer .

I worked in a human torture plant for manual labour. I started my days horrified of witnessing the deliberate degradation of humanity, but as my time working there progressed, I had become conditioned to it. I showed up every morning, stocked the shelves, swapped color tags on cages, did as I was supposed to and left without it fazing me. We were always taught that the “subjects” were like objects and to treat them as such or our jobs would be terminated.  I wasn’t the victim, not yet.

The facility worked in three ways: mental torture, physical torture, and behavioral testing. They used the torture to knock these people down to a level where they are barely people at all. Each patient was given a number and alongside of that was assigned a schedule. They had “appointments” where they were either subjected to extreme physical labour, or were expected to sit across the table from an “elite” and tolerate the verbal abuse that would come their way.

 Between these appointments they were forced to remain still and silent in their cages that were marked with a color of their “progress”. Green: the beginners. Some people would consider these as the patients that remained at the highest intellectual level; those who had not yet been fully subjected to the stripping of their identity and what they know of their connection to humanity. I see the greens as the least intellectual overall. They know nothing until they see and survive what will have come. Next came blue: the middle man, the tortured. If the physical strain had not overcome them by this point, the mental distress had. These were the sufferers, and they considered themselves exactly that. It was at this point that the subjects would often choose their own end. And lastly, the Reds. Not many people make it that far. The reds are the survivors, and in my opinion, the most intelligent of all. If you last 3 days as a red, you are set free and to never speak of your experiences again; if you have the mental capacity to remember them, that is. As people left the facility, either alive as a red or having succumbed to death as any color, another patient was brought in.

                Six hundred and seventy two. I never had the inclination to associate myself with the patients aside from any way my job entailed until I was told to change a cage from a green tag to blue. Changing tags had become an everyday occurrence. I had become desensitized to seeing the patients because they were empty by the time they reached their first “progression”; but not cage 672. By this point in my day, I was so frustrated and rushed because so much work had to be done to prepare for the arrival of sixteen new patients.

                I had become ignorant to the thought of new arrivals because I was aware of the miniscule number of patients that actually make it to the red level, let alone survive it. But I knew the thought of sixteen people having died in one day because I chose not to speak up would eat me alive so I learnt to suppress it. All I was concerned for was to get my work done for the day and head home.

When I went to change the tag, it was jammed between bars so I had to kneel down to get the green one off. It was then that I made the mistake of looking into the cage. There was this creature, naked, brittle, and bruised with “672” tattooed down his right forearm sitting there staring right back at me. He was different than the others in a way almost unexplainable. Those eyes. He wasn’t empty. His eyes had this entrancing depth to them that, for that split second, made it impossible to be indifferent to the strain. The green tag came off and the blue tag went on, and for the first time I had realized that from switching a simple color, I had potentially just led them to their death. I was soon pushed aside to watch 672 get dragged off to his “6:00 appointment”.

When we were first trained to work in the facility, we are taught how to read schedules, how to change tags, how to properly stock the shelves. We knew these “subjects” were tortured, but we were never permitted to see how they did it. I followed 672 and them to the chamber where I pretended to search the computer system while I watched the reflection in the screen. I heard him cry out while they piled burning stones on his bare back until he collapsed. The piercing sound of his screams rang out in my head for days. I had to see him again.

When speaking was permitted, I began coming to see 672 as an anonymous visitor so that my job wouldn’t be compromised. I needed to help him, but I couldn’t afford to be unemployed. I found myself hacking into the computer system to get myself a copy of his schedule to protect both him and myself. I was his only link back to humanity, and I planned to maintain it. So I gave him a name; Jacob.

As the visits became more frequent, his eyes found more depth. He was bright and his laugh was infectious. I knew that it was up to me to get him out alive. Days progressed and I watched his body deteriorate as his faith got stronger. His ability to speak had diminished from damage to his brain and his body hurt so badly that tears would begin to fall if I touched his hands. He knew who I was and though he was speechless, never lost the ability to understand. To me, patient 672, blue status had become Jacob, a victim who had finally progressed to red.

The red was the most difficult level of all. At this stage the behavioral testing was put into place to gauge what was mentally left of them. Each day they were given a bag of items, and released into a harsh environment and expected to find out how to use these things to survive. Some of these items held so much danger that it freely gave the option of suicide to each patient.

The first step to red is to be released into the forest and to survive until nightfall, so that morning I was assigned to bring the bag of items to Jacob. This was the first time since I changed his tag that I was ordered by an “elite” to see him. I knew the items within the bag and I knew how they must be used in order to survive. So before I gave him the bag, I took out the items that posed a threat and were unneeded within the context of the task. This was the first day I had helped him aside from being his friend. I handed him the bag and prayed to God that he would live until I saw them bring him in at 5pm that night. As I hid behind the opposed row of cages, I saw them throw him into his. One of the guards leaned over to me shaking his head. Since he started working here, not a single red had ever returned from their first day out. 

The second day of red status is based strictly upon nutrition. I placed four bottles and a watch on the counter and explained to him what was about to happen. “You have to take these and keep them with you. The one with the red cap is poison. Do not drink it but keep it with you. They will bring you to the desert where they will leave you for 35 hours.” I showed him on the watch what that meant and I continued to explain. “At 3 o’clock you must drink the smallest bottle. When the sky turns black, drink the biggest one. Stay in the same place until they come back for you, or you will run out of energy. When you see them coming back to take you, quickly drink the last bottle and hold the poison in your hand.” I knew that if they were to come back and the patient was not holding the poison unopened, they wouldn’t take him back. If he made it back and survived the following night without being fed or caving to the temptation of drinking the last bottle, they would let him go.

As I handed him off the items, I smiled at him and heard them come up behind me to take him. I knew that I may never have a job there again but more importantly, I may have never seen Jacob again. They stood there with their blank stares expecting me to present his case. My voice shook, “Patient 672: behavioral testing, red status. Day two: 35 hour nutrition challenge.” They reached in and grabbed him by the forearm as he cried out in pain. I knew he was capable of the day in the forest, but after that he had become so weak, I wasn’t sure if he’d make it.

He was expected to return at 6:00pm the following day. By the time I got to work, everyone was talking about him: “Patient 672 is remarkable.”, “672 comes across as suspicious to me.” I felt like I was back in high school as the gossip rang down the hallways. “Did you hear about that one subject who’s made it to red? Someone’s gotta be behind that.”

I was a labourer. I had no friends within the facility and no family waiting back home, so I did my work silently and left when I was finished. We were always taught that the “subjects” were like objects, and I treated them as such until I met patient 672. I wasn’t the victim, not yet.

It was 5:45pm when I nervously began stocking shelves to look busy. The last thing I needed was for people to see me nervously biting my nails watching the time in hopes of Jacob surviving. So I did as I knew best and found a way to channel my anxiety. I folded towels, one at a time, and stacked them, one on top of another. I felt as if someone was breathing down the back of my neck, but every time I turned, I was alone. So counting he minutes, I folded towels, one at a time, and stacked them, one on top of another.

Well, I was alone until I wasn’t.  They came up behind me and stood on either side of me. “Patient 856: mental strain, green status. Day one: foreshadowing at 6:00pm.” Grabbing my arms, they dragged me backwards and I was unable to resist. My mind began to race a million miles a second going over the past 2 months I had spent helping Jacob. I'm not a patient, I work here. Had they figured it out?  They stripped off my clothes, and shaved my head as I cried. Jacob, did Jacob make it back? Would they release him if he did? They tattooed “856” down my right forearm, just as I had to hundreds of other patients. Dragging me into the chamber, I was strapped me down to cold, metal chair that stung as my bare skin pressed up against it. When I looked up, there was this creature, naked, brittle, and bruised with “672” tattooed down his right forearm. He was pinned to the ground staring right back at me. Those eyes. He was alive, but not for long.

I sat there and watched them beat him until he stopped struggling. I spent 2 days strapped to that chair forced to look at his body, so frail, as it lay cold and motionless on the floor. They came back to get me and kicked the soulless body out of the way. “Did you hear about that one subject who’s made it to red? Yeah, they found out some naïve shelve stocker thought she’d get away with helping him. Turns out neither of them will get out alive.”

I had become ignorant to the thought of new arrivals because I was unaware of the chance I could become one, let alone survive it. But I knew the thought of sixteen people having died in one day because I chose not to speak up would eat me alive so I learnt to suppress it. All I had to do was speak out once, before I became the victim who was unable to speak at all.


Accompanying song: "Turn and Turn Again" by All Thieves