critiquing the critics

As a Theatre student, I was taught to be critical.
Constructively.

If we watched a scene, the director/professor would ask for opinions afterward. There was no such thing as simply saying "I liked it" because he would always push for why.

We began to dissect... everything. Lights, direction, acting, costumes, sets... to question every choice the production's director and actors made.

Sometimes I wish I never took that course.

There is no way I can separate myself from the critique.
Every time I watch a live performance my mind is constantly whirling, as ears, eyes and brain combine to make a fine tooth comb of analysis, running it through the hair of the performance as deliberate as looking for lice.
It happens with film, music and books as well, although I tend to be harder on the stage because this is where it began. It has just spilled over into other areas of art.

Of course there is nothing wrong with constructive criticism but I have to remind myself that not everyone has the same background, same experience.
But inevitably when I emerge from a performance, someone will ask the question
"what did you think?"

Ugh.

I'm sure friends who ask roll their eyes inward, waiting for me to hate it and tear it apart.
I should just say I liked it, and move on. But it doesn't sit well in my guts.
I'm sure it comes off as pompous, as if I think could do better.  I don't. Okay, in some cases I do, but in fairness, in some cases my cat could also do a better job.
 
One of my pet peeves with local theatre here in Nova Scotia is not as much with the productions, but with the audiences. It seems that people misunderstand the purpose of the standing ovation. It would appear that if anyone walks across a stage, it is applauded by jumping to your feet. But by far, the worst culprits are the local reviewers who always praise, never picking out anything that could and should be addressed, something  to be improved upon.

While it is very kind to want to be so supportive, it breeds mediocrity and unwarranted ego. How can an artist grow if s/he thinks they have no need to improve?
I'm not speaking of those critics who hate everything, who feel the need to tear it all down.
Criticism should be constructive, not destructive. It is meant to build toward something better, not to tear something down.

As a performer and director I have been reviewed many times and I can say that if the critique was favorable nine times out of ten, it was the tenth that stayed with me. As a person it is easy to take it personally. As a performer it should be taken as a gift. It puts a seed in the back of your mind that grows into other options, other choices.


However, with all of this being said, I have to remind myself that not everyone thinks this way. Some people enjoy a production simply because they found it entertaining.
I envy that.
It's not fun realizing that the Wizard is just a man behind the screen, or knowing the trick to every illusion.
Every time I answer the question "what did you think?" I obsess about my response for hours afterward. I worry that I offended someone or made them feel that their opinion was invalid.

While it may appear that I am too critical, it is nothing compared to my own review of my review.
Sadly, that voice is not a constructive one.

out with the old

Last year I gave myself a challenge

I would take a picture a day.
It didn't matter what the picture, what the content, it just had to be something I saw in the course of that day.
The purpose of this exercise was two-fold.
First, it was to provide a discipline, to get me in the habit of producing something every day and following it through for 365 days.

Secondly, it allowed me to really pay attention to, and be aware of, my surroundings.
And third, it enabled me to be creative.

This year I have issued myself another challenge.
I will still take a shot a day, but each week will follow a theme, and each photo will be my interpretation.


So here's my first offering.
It wasn't something I saw, it was something I staged; something I created.
The theme is "Out with the Old"

out with the Auld...lang syne

i have been both

not sure which scares me more

Year of Loss

There is something about New Year's Day that is so hopeful.

Last year, at the beginning of 2013 I was pumped.
I welcomed in the New Year with optimism and enthusiasm. 
It was like a new relationship that moved too quickly.
I believed it was special. But in the end, the year broke my heart.


It was a year of profound loss.
I lost friends. I watched friends watch loved ones suffer and be taken away.
I lost a relationship without warning, watched dreams vanish like steam on a mirror.


So, 2014, please understand if I am more than a little tentative.
Let's take our time. Let's not make promises we can't keep.
Let's get to know each other.
Let's be kind. 

Let's all make it out alive.

first sunrise of 2014

Time for a Cool Change

Yesterday marked the Summer Solstice.
It is always a day of celebration for me- welcoming Summer with a night on the beach.

The thing about nights at the beach, that I always seem to forget, is the dampness that sets in in the early hours of the morning. You would think I would know this, as I have had years of experience sleeping on beaches. I can't help myself. I would spend every waking and unconscious moment there if I could.
It is where I feel most exhilarated and the most calm. The feeling of peace is like no other.

Every time I am on the beach, a song by Australia's Little River Band plays in my head. I feel a breeze, whether the air is moving or still.

"I was born in the sign of water, 
and it's there that I feel my best..."

These lyrics hold true for me.


Last night on my favorite Nova Scotia  beach was exquisite.

We arrived at dusk, so we would have some light by which we could collect driftwood for the fire. This wasn't even a necessary factor.

The almost full-moon was so bright, it was hard to believe it was night-time. It started as silver, and as it moved across the sky, it darkened, and poured liquid gold into the water. It would be impossible for anyone to not stand in awe of this scene.
Certainly, anyone with poetry and sensitivity in their blood would fill and spill over with tears.

midnight on my favorite Nova Scotia beach

It filled me.
I found myself whispering thank you to anyone and anything might have been responsible for such perfection.
I whispered to the moon, the sea, the Universe, even to my own eyes for letting me see it. Breathed in deeply, as if trying to fill myself with the salt, the air, the light.
It filled me with gratitude for, and reminded me of, all the blessings in my life.

"It's kind of a special feeling, 
when you're out on the sea alone,
staring at the full moon like a lover"

It is true.
I am in love.
With the sea, the salt, the sand.
The moon.
With my friends, my partner, my life.
My self.

It has taken me a long time to be able to say that. And there may be a day when I don't feel that way. But I hope that the my loves- the sea, the salt, the sand, the moon.... will always be a reminder.

perfectly procrastinating peppers

Today I purchased a pack of peppers at Pete's.

One rogue red chili was hidden in amongst the green. 

I started to make a meal, but ended up making this picture instead.

one hundred and twenty six days

On January 1st of this year, I gave myself a task; a mission, if you will.

In trying to challenge myself creatively, I made a pact to take a photo a day. The subject and content doesn't matter. Even the quality doesn't really matter, as long as I have captured an image.
To this date, I have captured 126, and since this is the 126th day of 2013, I have managed to maintain the goal.
126 days, and I am already aware of the benefits of this project.

Even as a child, I saw everything in frames, as pictures, but it is even more so now.
My view changes angles, composition happens before my eyes. I feel more focused on what is around me.

But it also makes me complete a task, and these days, that is a task in itself.

When you see everything as a photograph, the next step is to find the next shot. I'm always looking. But more importantly, I'm always seeing. I'm seeing more.
It's also fun and interesting to go back from time to time, to the very first shot on New Year's Day, and follow the journey, day by day, for all one hundred and twenty six.
Some shots are funny, some quirky, some mundane.
Others are random, accidental, or taken with someone in mind.
But they all invoke a memory. They all return a piece of that day.

Sometimes I have something in mind, and sometimes, out of the clear blue, they are presented to me.
That was the story of today's shot.

While driving with friends through Grand Pre, in search of the Bay of Funday mud flats, I spotted these doors on the top of a hill.
It all felt a little Alice in Wonderland.
But I do love the shot.

It looked like a scene from one of my dreams.. or a Tim Burton movie.