Alliance of Artist Communities

I was super excited to stumble across this site. For years, I've contemplated checking myself into the Banff Centre for the Arts and creating something really amazing. But that takes advanced planning and forethought and we don't get along so well. As I've begun to write more and have spent more time away from the stage, I really that I need to build myself a community. Writing I can do on my own, but acting takes a team of people. I have great trouble auditioning for films and plays because I have a deep and unsettling feeling that I am about to become involved in a bad project. And I'm usually right. Unfortunately, like any field, there are far more half-baked artists than really talented, intelligent and creative people. The discovery of a worldwide artistic community sponsoring internships and residencies is really encouraging. I can't wait to further investigate this...

In Contemplation of Flying Bananas...

Not to re-ignite any mind-numbing arguments from my theatre school days, but really- what is art? Montreal artist César Saez has determined that an enormous floating banana is an art installation. He recently thrust said banana into the skies of Mexico, with the intention that it will rest over Texas. In an interview with Montreal weekly magazine, Saez acknowledged the inanity of the project, but noted that Texas was lacking in flying bananas. No word yet on how US authorities will deal with a giant banana entering their airspace, although I would personally love to see them shoot it down. Just to compound the absolutely ridiculous nature of the world in which we live. That would be art.

The Banana Over Texas project was funded by the Government of Quebec and cost an estimated one million dollars.

I'm taking a poll here- check out the website and tell me here... What's the verdict on the Banana Over Texas project? Art, or as we actors call it- artistic masturbation?

http://www.geostationarybananaovertexas.com/

Shameless Plug

I've been home long enough now that reality has begun to sink in. I've realized that I became accustomed to a particular lifestyle in Korea- with my apartment being paid for and the cost of living being only a fraction of the cost of living in Canada, it's easy to feel alot more relaxed about finances. My gym pass was not the luxury that it had been the year before- it instead became a necessity. I would have lost my mind without it. I began to re-examine my job prospects in Canada in a very different way. The possibilities seemed endless, with my bank account full (or as full as it ever has been). I decided that upon return to Canada, I would throw myself- head first- into writing and acting. To supplement my love of these fulfilling, yet financially unstable professions, I'd launch myself into a half-assed career as a teacher. Half-assed not because of any lack of effort on my part, but because it isn't where my passion lies.

So here I find myself back in Montreal- anxiously trying to get my ideas off the ground. The résumés are in- just waiting to hear back from the collection of schools I applied to. I'm working on putting together a demo CD to go on the hunt for a new agent, and trying to figure out how to make this writing thing work. In an effort to do this, you'll notice stage 1- becoming friends with Google. Stage 2 is also underway- thanks to the help and tips from internet-savvy friends - increasing the traffic on my page.

To that end, to all of my friends who have sent me messages over the last year praising my blog, here's your chance. To all the readers who happen upon this page and love it- help me out! Seth Godin (author and blog man) has a list of blogs worth checking out at http://www.squidoo.com/zlist. I don't know how exactly this works, but when I signed up, my blog was number 388 on the list- now it's at 15. I don't know if this is based on hits, or votes, or what. Point is- the higher I appear on the list, the better my chances of increasing traffic. My intentions are totally transparent, wouldn't you say? Check it out. More on me and life and kidneys later- now I intend to sleep.

Honesty

It's officially been over a year now since I've been sharing my thoughts and opinions with you. What's interesting about internet communication is that it makes everything more and less intimate at the same time. It's easy for people to write things that they wouldn't normally, because the interaction isn't immediate. The consequences of your response aren't tangible. There's no accountability. It's interesting how the written language- how the art of writing is evolving as a result. The goal of any artist is always to break down barriers- to challenge. Sometimes we set out to challenge a particular thought, opinion, or view of our society. Other times we set out to challenge ourselves. Many artists take themselves far too seriously to ever admit that any part of what they do is for self-gratification. But of course that plays into it. No one would do it if there was nothing in it for them. The possibility of fame and fortune drive many to LA- hoping for a chance at making it big. But for others, it's a way to express the voice that drives us. The inner monologue of the writer, the endless string of scenes in the actor's head, the images of the sculptor.. Inevitably one day we are forced to confront what terrifies us most. And it's different for everyone.

The adrenaline an actor feels as she steps on stage is related to survival instincts. Your body reacting against the public exposure which is about to take place. You can't help but reveal yourself. Your issues are laid out for all to see- and this is the gift the actor gives to the audience. The gift of honesty. All the masks are laid aside as the actor presents himself to you. It's our instinct to keep our weaknesses hidden, however. To dance and distract from them as though no one will notice how cleverly we hide aspects of ourselves. The goal is always absolute honesty.

Here I am, back in Montreal. A 150 page account of my travels stares me in the face and I realize I'm at a crossroads. For a year, I've written weekly about all that I experience in my adventures in a different country and culture. Back at home, I lack external inspiration. Now it's coming from within my head. Within my relationship. Within my family, my home. There are topics I've avoided writting about this year- things that hit a little too close to home, aspects of myself that I've never wanted others to see. But now these subjects seem unavoidable. I've never been able to admit to vulnerability, always wanting to seem invincible. Yet here I find myself unable to ignore the fact that Fred and I have been together four and a half years. Somehow I have trouble acknowledging that it's real- that it's love, and it's serious. After a year in different countries- on opposite sides of the world, a year of daily phone calls and loneliness, I suppose I can't hide it anymore. It is real.

Last week, after only two weeks back in Montreal, Fred and his mom and I met with a transplant specialist at the Royal Victoria Hospital here in Montreal. Ironically the last time I was in the building was when I was born- the memories are a little fuzzy. The surgeon, apparently incapable of reading not only his own writing, but the entire chart itself, gave us the options available to Fred. After an hour and a half of discussing timing and the importance of waiting for the right moment for a transplant- the surgeon realized that he had missed a test result and that Fred's kidneys were not in fact functioning at 45%, but at 25%. Ooops! So with that, Fred was officially marked down on the transplant list- making him the third AB blood type waiting on a kidney and a pancreas. We left the hospital in silence. I had nearly passed out in the doctor's office- a reaction brought on by my engagement with my own mortality, I suspect. Or perhaps just my inherent distrust of the medical profession rearing its ugly head again.

And so, for the next six to twelve months, Fred and I will jump at every phone call until he gets 'the call'. He'll have one hour to respond. As someone who's never been hospitalized (knock on wood) and who's only visits to the hospital have been for sports injuries- a transplant is huge. If they were my organs, I'm fairly certain that I'd tell the doctor to shove it. My experience has always been that bed rest and an ice pack cures everything. It's so hard for me to wrap my mind around what's happening right now- it's all just so foreign to me.