It’s a Monday, which means Masterworks Chorale has to count as my creativity. At school, we took down most of the reading caves, although I left the actual disassemblage of Hogwarts until tomorrow, when I could remember to dress appropriately for working with huge, dirty pieces of cardboard.
Category: Creativity
Creating something every day for 365 days
Worries (Day 213/365)
I’ve started getting antsy about rehearsals for William Blake’s Inn. It’s time to begin planning our final approach, because at some point soon we have begin involving a larger number of “others”: troupe of sunflowers, marchers in MMH, hedgehogs, etc. We have to decide whether we want to invite our octet to take part in the actual staging. We have to set up times for all these people to be… where?
We have to convince someone, who?, to help with constructing sunflowers, banners, pennants; costumes for the Band. What will we do re: costume/indications for the octet as soloists? How involved does our May performance have to be in order to make its point to those we assume to be unimaginative enough to require our having to do all this?
When should we start getting the octet back together?
I’ve proposed May 3 as our performance date, but at this point we have no firm date or space for the performance. Perhaps we can plan not knowing these details, but I’m having a hard time even successively approximating what to do next.
In other news, I was very nearly creative today. After nearly two hours in an optometrist’s office in Greensboro, I retrieved my laptop and began writing this post. Then I pulled up the Sunflower Waltz and got exactly four measures fixed before they finally finished with Grayson.
Nothing (Day 212/365)
Up at 5:30, driving to Guilford, taking the child out after the game to shop and dine. No room for creativity today.
Yes, I know, if I were serious about this 365 thing, I’d be jotting down musical phrases in my nearly empty Moleskine music notebook on the road to Greensboro. I’ll try to remember that next time.
Read Across America Day (Day 211/365)
I spent the whole day in my media center, surrounded by reading caves for Read Across America Day. As you all know, March 2 is Dr. Seuss’s birthday, and this year was the 50th anniversary of The Cat in the Hat.
This is my media center with reading caves. Everything you see here was built by teachers and their minions on Thursday afternoon. In the foreground is the circus tent, with the Mulberry St. House behind it. Beyond that you see the houses of the Three Little Pigs, and behind that, the Wardrobe that leads into Narnia. In the very back is a starry night campground.
Right behind the Mulberry House is Hogwarts, and you cannot see the pirate ship behind that. Also invisible, beyond Narnia, is Mr. Tumnus’s cave, and to the right, out of the frame, is a beach and under the sea.
Here are some young Gryffindors reading inside Hogwarts.
You can see the portraits in the stairwell. Behind the camera is the Great Hall, and under that is Slytherin’s commons room. I took the opportunity to dress up as Snape and snarl at children all day. A couple of kids actually, and correctly, addressed me as “Professor Snape.” I also identified every redheaded child as a Weasley, although I think only one was old enough to get it.
It was pretty amazing day. Kids would go nuts when they saw the transformation of the media center, and we’d give them five minutes to explore before settling down to read for about fifteen minutes. There was room for two classes at a time, although I think with a little judicious placement we could have handled three at a time.
Everyone’s favorite of the day was Mr. Tumnus’s cave. It was very cozy, and the way they used the actual shelves was quite witty. Believe it or not, that was a conscious design decision on the part of the young ladies who put it together Thursday afternoon.
All in all, a very good day. Everyone’s reaction was so positive that we decided to leave everything up until Monday afternoon. Many wanted to leave it up all week, but it shuts down the media center, as you can imagine, and we just can’t be closed that long.
Hogwarts Reading Cave (Day 210/365)
Lost day (Day 209/365)
Workshop, 2/27 (Day 208/365)
Another amazing Tuesday Lacuna workshop. Tonight, it was me, Marc, and Melissa.
I had mocked up the heads of two sunflowers in the Troupe and made some leaves, so we began by attaching elastic to our feet, then to the crossbars of the flowers. We stapled the leaves to the elastic, and then we played. We played with making the sunflowers grow, making the leaves bounces. We studied how sunflowers would move, how they would jump, how they would dance. We played with one sunflower each, then two, having them relate to each other and to other sunflowers.
The sunflower waltz has turned out be quite workable. It is big and glorious, but that works. I shall finish orchestrating it as it stands.
An interesting thing happened this afternoon as I prepared the CD for rehearsal. I’ve been working on a chopped up version of Two Sunflowers, mostly because I didn’t want to mess with the original in case something went dreadfully wrong (as it appeared had happened first thing this morning when the cellos and basses wouldn’t make any sound for a while.) This afternoon I pasted the song itself back on to the beginning of the waltz segment, which then of course recaps with the second verse of the song. This da capo structure was suddenly, terrifically poignant: the two sunflowers have declared their intention of staying with William Blake, then their Troupe engages in this huge, liberated waltz, and then they come back to their two friends to bid farewell. As the Troupe leaves, the lyrics come to us again, “They both took root in the carpet…” It’s sort of sad in a way that wasn’t there before.
Anyway, we did a lot of good, solid work exploring the movement of sunflowers and positing ways for the waltz to be choreographed.
Here’s what we need: five sunflower Troupe members; the Two Sunflowers; the tea set; the suitcases; the turtle train; an angel costume; a small table for tea. Personnel: the Two Sunflowers (currently sung by Ginny and Denise); five dancer/puppeteers; one angel; and a rabbit, to serve the tea. Lacuna members, check out the What We Need page for details.
Moving on to The Man in the Marmalade Hat Arrives, we did another round of amazing brainstorming. We’ve written the lyrics on a huge stretch of paper so we can start choreographing/blocking, but we haven’t written anything yet.
What all did we decide? The Band/Parade phalanx is slightly creepy in their “inexorable” march forward, but the MMH moves the piece toward something a little more silly as it progresses. Quasi-military band uniforms. Oversized breakfast implements?: spoons for the drumsticks, plates for the cymbals, etc. Discussed some blocking for the MMH, mostly freeing him from a line-by-line literalization. Band moves UL to C; Chorus moves DR to C; both move L to the Parade Ground, joined by the Gang from the Inn. Close order drill.
The banners remain as Parade Ground backdrop for the second half, switching front-to-back as spring arrives. We affirmed the idea of the ice sprites as middle-aged men in loincloths. It’s the kind of detail that will rattle audience expectations. Now all we have to do is find middle-aged men who will wear silver-blue body paint and little else, who can also summon up their youthful ballet training to move across the stage. That shouldn’t be too hard, should it? (I reiterate that I plan to be wearing a tux and sitting in the audience next to Nancy Willard.)
We had a large discussion of the Gang and characters in general, as in how we would portray them. Lots of ideas floated around, pros and cons of having actors in costumes to puppets (and what kinds). An overall design concept: if we allow ourselves to stray from natural colors, then it becomes easier to identify characters whether they are being portrayed by singer/actors or by puppets.
For example, we want a singer playing the King of Cats for his two solos because we need the actor’s face for those showstoppers to work. So we can put the King of Cats in a purple morning coat, perhaps with a green waistcoat (slightly furry), with a high white collar. Then when we get to the Milky Way, the King of Cats would be protrayed by a rod puppet, with all the flexibility of levitation that puppets allow, and it would be not only okay but wonderful for the cat to be a real cat, but a purple tabby with a green chest and an actual high white collar. Flexibility of vision and execution.
I’m sure there’s more. Melissa and Marc, make comments.
Our motto du jour is “Successive Approximation.” Everything we do is a slight change on what we’ve done before; nothing is the final word. I think I shall open up a section in my online store for Lacuna, and one of the t-shirt designs will say, “What you’re looking at is a Successive Approximation.”
Another Monday (Day 207/365)
It’s a Monday, which means all I’ve had time to do is Masterworks Chorale rehearsal. Still I did get a phone call in to Multec, the local packaging company who has always been willing to give me cardboard when I needed it. Tomorrow I’ll pick up enough cardboard to make the Hogwarts reading cave.
I need to remember to bring my tempera paints on Thursday.
Musings (Day 206/365)
It only takes a lovely spring-like afternoon, a lovely meal in preparation, Mahler’s 9th Symphony, and two or three Hotel Miyako Specials, to make one feel nostalgic. Or in my case, self-satisfied.
I got a lot done on my winter break. I didn’t get everything done that I wanted to do, but a lot of what I didn’t finish is being held up by stuff I need from others: tax forms, server glitches, that kind of thing. So I’ll return to work tomorrow with not a lot undone.
Foremost of all this “stuff” I got done is the sunflower waltz passage. No, I haven’t finished orchestrating it yet, but I did get it finished. Where it petered out yesterday, it now continues with one final repetition of the rising phrase (“our traveling habits have tired us”), then, as I predicted, closes with the “topaz tortoises” phrase, followed by a breaking up of the “Ah, William” phrase to bring us down.
Still some things to smooth out, as usual, but I think I’m done with it, enough for us to play with it on Tuesday.
I’ve been struck by a phrase from Ken Robinson’s Out of Our Minds, which I’m still reading: successive approximation. It describes perfectly the way I’ve worked on the music, especially this sunflower waltz, and the way we’ve been working on the staging. People think, erroneously, that these kinds of things get “created,” that we think them up and just write them down or do them.
But of course we don’t. We put something down, anything, and look at it. What’s missing? What’s wrong? Where could it go next? Is it a dead end? We erase, we change, we nudge it one way or the other. Each step is an approximation, and the truth is that the final product is just the last of our educated guesses.
More sunflower waltz (Day 205/365)
A quick post this morning: I’ve been listening to the sunflower waltz over and over. It’s gotten to the point that I need to take a break from it and come back later with fresher ears.
But that won’t stop you from listening to it. Here’s an mp3 file of the sunflower waltz, as of 2/24. You will hear the thing start to peter out after the second climax, as the orchestra gets to the “counted the steps of the sun” line.
In case you’re wondering, as I was most of last night, how I’m going to get us down from this high perch, I think it will be relatively easy: finish out the verse with the “topaz tortoises” line, getting quieter as we go along, then use the “Dear William” phrase tossed back and forth from section to section to return us to the calm (and key) of the actual song. From there, we sigh back into the violas divisi, and let the chorus repeat the “They arranged themselves at the window” verse. Fini.
We’ll see if I get back to this today, what with Wadsworth tonight.