It is spring, moonless night in the small town, starless and bible-black …
Last night I saw the most amazing staging of Under Milk Wood by Dylan Thomas.
It was in at Downstage which is already one of my favourite theatres, but it felt more intimate than usual.
The stage was multi-leveled and included a rotating section of floor which gave the actors room to move and at times it seemed something closer to a dance than a play ostensibly for voices. The Night was evoked using an almost unnoticeable black screen, a smoke machine and near-silhouettes.
All of the actors were just … mind-blowing. They have to portray so many different characters but pulled it together remarkably well. I loved that they didn’t rely on solely one method of characterisation, they changed their clothes, the way they held themselves, their facial expressions and voices. Everything.
I also cannot get over Loren Horsley’s hair. Love.
It’s only running until the 9th September but if you can, I really recommend catching it.
You can hear the dew falling, and the hushed town breathing. Only your eyes are unclosed, to see the black and folded town fast, and slow, asleep. And you alone can hear the invisible starfall, the darkest-before-dawn minutely dewgrazed stir of the black, dab-filled sea where the Arethusa, the Curlew and the Skylark, Zanzibar, Rhiannon, the Rover, the Cormorant, and the Star of Wales tilt and ride.
There is a stabbing stabbing pain in my hand, running right down my weddingring finger all the way to about an inch above my wrist.
Every so often it feels like my finger is vibrating with the pain.
I think it might be being exacerbated by the fact that I keep my little finger flung into the air while I type, jerking my weddingring finger down when I need to use the shift key. Creating what I kindly call my typing claw.
If I ball my left hand into a fist it goes away.
I think work really is breaking my hands.
Which totally sucks because I like my unusually small hands!
And really, I find them quite useful.
(ok seriously, in order to counteract the claw I’ve been trying to hit shift with my littlest finger and it’s working.)
(Hi Mum! you can stop worrying now)
is a very important night.
Tonight, The Great Battle that has Plagued Craig and Sarah has come to an end.
They have settled the matter of Cat vs. Dog
And it was Won by this adorable little Alien face.
Of course, this battle is completely moot at this point, as the purchase of said family pet (now decided as one (1) French Bulldog) cannot occur for at least three years.
BUT! it must be publicly recognised that Sarah and Craig have decided that a French Bulldog is manly enough for Craig and small and alien-faced enough for Sarah.
Besides, Gilby Clarke has one.
Of course uh, Sarah can’t live without at least one cat … but that’s another battle.
17th August 2006
A Photo Journal