Some theatre each day keeps the doctor away…


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Saw Vanguard with the Australian Ballet tonight.  Rather wonderful.

It always surprises me, though I don’t know why it should, or why it does, that the male dancers haven’t shaved their legs.  Perhaps it’s because, seeing them half the time in tights – and therefore having the same follicle-visibility as the women -, when I see them without the tights, it ruins the illusion somewhat.  Fuzzes the lines and all that.  I think dance is at its best – at its most sublime – when it either defies gravity, or base physicality.  (Or both.)  (Base physicality being something physical that the normal person wouldn’t otherwise do, couldn’t otherwise do, wouldn’t think of otherwise doing.)  Hair is base, hair is animal.  (Not that I have anything against hair in normal life.  Not that I have anything against it on the stage, either, really – I say all this to try and work out why it still surprises me, that is all.)

No one ever thinks of Hamlet taking a shit, right?

(Of course, all this is coming from the man who was not surprised at all about watching bare breasts for half an hour tonight.)

(You know, my reflex is still to refer to myself as a ‘boy’ when I write ‘man’.  I wonder if I’ll ever grow out of that.)

One also wonders about what modernity is to us, in relation to stage backdrops and the like.  At the moment, about the most modern you can get – minimalistic modern, anyway – is a pure white backdrop.  Very stark, very bold, very clean, very efficient.  One wonders  whether, at any point in history,  pure white would have seem utterly modern, or whether it’s only just us now who find it so.  Perhaps the Baroque would’ve found it boring, whereas something incredibly detailed (more than usual) would be seen as more modern.  Hello, dear reader, reading this two hundred years from now – do you think white is modern?

80/? in SUOTAOL.

I should stick a character in a play in a Port-A-Loo at some point.  Or in an outhouse.  Might be somewhat funny.

Sotheby’s announced today (or sometime earlier, but I found out about it today) an auction of 50 first edition books, annotated by the authors.  (All the authors are still alive.)  It’s called “First Editions, Second Thoughts”.  Some authors merely wrote on the endpapers, others illustrated it, others wrote extensive annotations, some even corrected the text – all for charity.  Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Are Dead is one of the books.  I said to my father that I’d be willing to pay five hundred dollars for the privilege of owning a Stoppard-annotated book.  I’d probably even go to one thousand, in my current financial situation.  I had a look on a rare books site, however, and a first edition signed copy (merely signed) of Rosencrantz is going for four and a half thousand pounds, so I doubt I stand a chance.  Plus I’ve no idea how to organise someone to bid for me either.  (I assume you can’t do it online like eBay.)

Here’s hoping that whoever gets it lets the rest of the world see it before I die.


Written by epistemysics

May 1, 2013 at 2:55 pm

Posted in Uncategorized

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