Berliner Blues

Coming home and feeling like I was a step above everyone around me, people ask me how was the trip, and some probably regretted their question as soon as I opened my mouth.

Clearly, they were not ready for the passion kept within my 5'1 body.

How has it been just weeks over a month and I feel Berlin finally has compressed itself into my memories, it has accepted it's position as my happy place to think of, but no longer kinetic. It knows it will feel like a long time before I return.

Maybe I'm so down because of these damn tonsils. (or lack there of)
A week and one day since they were removed.
They never gave me too much of an issue, closed up my airways a few times and I had a hard time eating- but nothing to really complain about.
Now I've returned to the ER and had to have the surgery redone because the stitches refuse to stitch.
The dead fuckers just won't leave me alone.

I've laid in bed every day, and haven't eaten anything since Tuesday the 21st- due to my mouth being unable to open.

I think of the food I ate in Berlin- I think of YamYam.
I think of the scallops from the first night.
That huge cheeseburger that without a doubt I would probably be able to eat 3 of right now.

Everyone complains in my house that my stomach growls too loud at night.
I have to use a cowbell to get someone to help me out of bed.

Even when I shared a room with two other people and 40+ towels it was easier to get out of bed.

I'm awake in bed really late now, because of all the energy I never burn-when it hits 2 am I count and say, it's 8 am in Berlin. I wonder if Crobag still have the sandwiches I like.

I've known food to bring tears to a persons eyes, but this heartbreak is inhumane.

My room is a Berlin shrine, anything and everything that could be put on a wall or shelf, has been hung or propped. (and the occasional Lars can be found)

I think it's Berlin that keeps me going because anyone else would probably have gone crazy with this much bed rest. I was grateful then, and I'm grateful now.

I miss every little piece that made Berlin, Berlin for me. Even those stupid high schoolers in the halls.

No, never mind- I hate those kids.

http://concert.arte.tv/de/thomas-ostermeier-inszeniert-shakespeares-richard-iii-beim-festival-davignon-live

Isn't it weird that in memories all we really have are moments and events. But in the moment all we really have are our wants and our fears and our attempts

I've been having difficulty sleeping. Difficulty writing, eating and reading. A siren buzzes outside of my apartment window. It is no longer that gestapo sounding screech of a Berliner ambulance but that of my home. There is a history to my ambulance sound. Memories that have gone and come. Come and gone. and gone and gone and gone.

I saw Hand to God

I saw a show after most of you were gone. In Berlin. I forget the name. It was small. It was in the blackbox of Gorki. I personally did not enjoy watching many of the main stages at Gorki. But I loved this little last play. It was a reflection and a catharsis. We all sat on cushions wrapped around a room. There was a catharsis there. Some of it was very imperfect. All of it was very imperfect. My last little play. I enjoyed it so. I hear the siren again out of my window. It is bringing me back more and more from this daydream I have of that little last play. It was sort of about love. Sort of about a journey. Sort of about finding yourself. But it was really about this man who was trying to do a play. And do it well. Be good. And it was imperfect. And it wasn't good. It wasn't great either. But it was imperfect and that was good enough for me.

It's strange now. Being back. I tried to explain how i've been and I just said life has been weird. And the weirdest part is that I was able to articulate why life has been weird. And I was able to articulate how Berlin changed that and made life more lifelike. And I was able to articulate how it was what I needed and I am here now and life is going by fast but I have this thing now, this time and place and these people. And I didn't articulate any of it. Because they didn't want to listen. Not really listen. I tried to articulate and was shocked when I realized I could. But I was hardly shocked when I sensed the not listening. It is a really scary thing to do, listen. And everyone has their own motives and everyone has their own defenses. But it is a beautiful thing; to truly listen. I'm not sure if that is a proper use of a semi-colon but it is okay. one two three four five and one. More people than I could've dreamed of.

I want to connect. Connection. To feel wanted. To be with someone. To belong.
Isn't it weird that in memories all we really have are moments and events. But in the moment all we really have are our wants and our fears and our attempts

Shred of Thought

Recollections from Gorki's Common Ground, and how I see my life in relation. 

*though not in the same intensity.

Not meant to be in any particular order or poem-like intention.

I allow my life to crumble and then gravitate around the petty.

Now that I know I want chaos, how do I make it?

Why does it take a bigger picture to analyze myself?

Who do we choose to Hate?

Why?

What decided that I was meant to be born into this life?

Sometimes this newfound knowledge hurts more than it helps.

How many can we blame?

How many are affected?

How many will actually know?

How many are living in ignorance?

How long do I wait?

Are my eyes open yet?

*Yes, those are the wood chips from the show.

Post-Berlin - You are a poem.

First thing I saw when I got back from berlin was my dead plant. Right before I left New York I was happy for my plant finally got a long stem of flower which was about to bloom. I took it to a flower shop for repotting. We forgot to ask someone to look after our plant and it was dead. 

I thought I should paint the plant because I couldn't let it go like this.  Many art I have seen in museums and shows from Berlin was still in my head. I wanted my painting to show what I am feeling at the moment. I was a bit guilty and sorry but I was happy for being home and all the things I got from Berlin.  I mixed bold crayons for my excitement and delicate color pencils for plant's frailty. I liked it because it was very different from the choice I would have made before Berlin. I was happy. Suddenly, I wondered what others were doing.

It was long but short journey. I miss Berlin and all the people I was there with. I am looking forward to see all of their art.  

For we are God’s workmanship, created in Christ Jesus to do good works, which God prepared in advance for us to do. – Ephesians 2:10

This is one of my favorite Bible verse. Workmanship in the verse is poema or poem in Greek word. We are all custom designed by God and therefore our work is unique and beautiful as a poem when you are with God. We will do our work based on what we have seen and experienced. It is a great feeling to know that there are eight other people that had experienced the same things. Moreover those are the people who will continue work and talk about it after 10 years from now! I am very excited. Thank you for being there as you are, everyone. 

Imex exhibition and other museums - Do it on your own way.

The biggest thing I have learned from Berlin is getting rid of the limitations.  Directors, actors, set and costume designers, sounds, stages.. nothing was 'ordinary'.Nothing seemed to have limits compare to the shows I have seen before. Not only in the shows but in museums I felt the same thing.They had choice beyond the safety zone that they made to express their thoughts weather it worked great or didn't at all. I could find the same in paintings,drawings and sculptures. 

I was mostly interested in simple drawings that I could try to imitate at home because I thought my drawing was stuck in same style. I was maybe trapped into ideas that my drawings should be unconsciously. It was hard to break thought my comfort zone. 

I have seen many really many arts in museums throughout the periods. It was amazing to find how different artists had spoke though their art. Especially Imex exhibitions was interesting to see the arts of impressionism  and expressionism artist under similar time period and social circumstances. 

Born and raised in Korea, I think I was trained to be 'good' and get a 'right' answer. I tend to not attempt if I am not confident to be near perfection. Someone's approval was always needed to feel good about my work. After living 3 years in New York and experiencing a glimpse of Berlin, I feel I have changed. The way I do my art and the way I see other's art also has been changed. I feel like I am getting to believe myself more as an artist.

These are drawings from Imex exhibition at National Galarie and some from Berggruen Museum and Neues Museum.

DAS SPIEL IST AUS - They don't care what you think.

Before and after the show, I have heard many times that the space we are sitting was the stage and the space the actors were was the audience seat but it was days after I really understood the concept.

Looking back now, I still can't understand how they used the space. There was no room in my brain to consider what technique they have used. I was amazed how brave the artists were to express what they have to say. All the elements they used to deliver the message without being literal were perfectly balanced out. I haven't seen anything like this before. It was so sensual. amazing. speechless. 

Actors walking around red, deep, traditional audience seat in their costumes in all different time period,

White fluorescent light shooting strongly onto the white background,

Pieces of vinyl falling lightly like snow flakes,

Lights shining audiences,

Sticky right blue paint actors rub into their skin,

Audio that comes right into audience's ears which felt like actors whispering directly into my ears...

There are so much things going on that stimulates all five senses, but it was not overwhelming because artists that are throwing all these stuff without apologies had a strong idea behind it. 

The confidence made me experience all the stuff that are happening to me without judging or trying to figure it out. 

I imagined a person wearing in all black but all different textures of black pieces. Black velvet trousers, black shiny shoes, black leather jacket etc..The extraordinary choice he made with a strong point of view made him look very simple and elegant. He is proud of his choices and don't care what others say because he believes his outfit is perfect. 

I thought it will be not easy to imitate these kind of shows without having a original idea. I would be like a person who buys clothes that looked cool on magazine but not being able to make it his own.

and all that Kunstwerk.

     Museum Island in a piece of living art unto itself, how lucky a city to have a cluster of buildings with stunning architecture and urban-scapes, complete with great restaurants right around the corner, I fell in love immediately. Having the pass made museums a consistency through out my days, being so easy to just stop in and have lunch on your own and then take one section each day, no rush to see every room, and no disappointment on your walk back when you hear how you had missed a whole wing. How often could you think to yourself, 'wow I couldn't find Nefertiti's bust, guess I just have to come back again since I have to go see Richard III...' there is no negative outcome, life can't get much better than that sentence.

    It's an unusual form of irritation and no greater annoyance than being unable to stand in front of a work long enough to feel as though you saw and felt all there was to give, and instead have to rush through just to feel accomplished.

    Some paintings I would return to multiple times, and sketch from multiple angles. I drove one security guard crazy, as he would stand next to me the entire time I was sketching to be sure that I wouldn't get too close, since I obviously look like a crazy radical artwork toucher. 

    Hearing a museum to have a collection of Picasso's work, you only expect it to maybe have 5 to 7, because that's reasonably impressive. Walking into a winding staircase with three floors full of mixed-medias, sculptures, and more than the usual Demoiselles d Avignon, half of the works I had never even seen or thought to have been one of Picasso's. I was enamored with his constant change of pace style showed how he surpassed generations of design aesthetic. 

Some doodles: 

inspired by Jakob Steinhardt's Die Stadt, 1913

at the IM-EX exhibit

 Inspired by the Picasso Exhibit

 Quick Statue Sketches outside of the IM-EX exhibit while we wait in line

Momentos and Common Ground

My inability to unpack the first week back was almost a comfort, an immature way to pretend that if I was still living out of my luggage - it didn't have to be over just yet. Now posters, souvenirs, gifts, and stickers are scattered almost everywhere and I'm still opening the different compartments of my luggage where I put all the souvenirs from the shows. Silver confetti from Richard, wood chips from Common Ground, all the little books we attacked the gift tables for.
For some reason the wood chips were more important than anything to me, and are now hot-glued into my book. I loved how a pile of mulch was left on stage and even when other props where taken off, they remained. I saw them as the messy vitality that we were all craving but still I can't come to think of their deeper meaning. Yael's creative vision had a different lasting impression on me, maybe it was due to having actually met her and the cast, maybe it was complete disregard for the clean up and fire safety.
The beginning to Common Ground was exactly what I needed. Riveting movement, shouting, random props brought on stage and then quickly thrown off, it forced me to pay attention. What I loved most is the involvement of history, when focus is brought to one of the most foreign topics in my life, a topic I didn't even know existed, already I am hooked.
How is it that I knew Michael Jackson was accused of molesting a little boy in 1993 but never heard of the genocide occurring within an entire country, never mind finding out that members of the cast had been affected so directly.
This guilt was embodied by the character Alek, a Serbian man whose family was bombed while he studied, worried about haircuts, and lived a normal life. His monologue made the audience stop and think- is what I am doing this very moment even important? Is what I am worrying about something that disastrous in comparison to the worry of maybe not eating or having clean water to drink? Am I going to die from a higher power because they decided to hate my country? It's a cleansing of your morals that only happens every so often, and thank God because it can really make a person feel shitty. We need this reality-check, this reminder as to how great we have it, because someone else doesn't. 

Coming back home to my life wasn't as bad as it could be but when you're descending from a newly discovered paradise to be thrown into work, rising gas prices, and possibly not having a mattress for your apartment, I felt trapped. I wanted to go back. I had a three week taste of the best experience yet, and I wasn't ready for it to be over.

Replaying the scenes of shows that I remember cross my mind multiple times a day, but if I didn't have all of these scraps of paper and wood chips, I'd almost believe it never happened.

Verbs

I Miss You Berlin

I've been putting this off. A lot. I'm afraid of writing about Berlin because I'm sad that it's over. But I have fallen into the one habit that Berlin wanted me to shake. And that is being complacent. Because Berlin taught me that taking risks pays off. And I'm speaking of course about art and theater but also just about life. I think I've also identified what my "not quite" feeling is, and that's the complacency. The thought tht, "yeah, we're okay with this." That theater is just Wicked and The Lion King and even Hand to God and that Tony winners are the best of the best. Berlin theater demands the audience to participate. To be complicit. You aren't sitting there watching a show, you're participating. The theater I want to be a part of isn't just saying something, it's having a conversation, it's in dialogue with the world around it. And artists are the faciliatators of these conversations. And everyone is an artist. Yes even actors. (you know who you are.) I've learned that there is a difference between an artist and a careerist, an artist defines their own success while a careerist allows other to define success for them.

I think everyone who was a part of this program, myself included, has experienced the need to work. The need to create. This desire is what pushes us, and I think the artists of Berlin, to create work that is incredible and pushes the envelope. And I wish this feeling for everyone. It's spectacular, its hopeful, it helps me to not be afraid or at least to acknowledge that I am and not let that stop me. I just think that Berlin isn't asking the question, what do people want to see? But the question, what is theater? and what can theater be? And that might be cheesy but fuck you. Because I want more now. Because I demand more.

Thank you Berlin.

Why does it have to be live?

Last Saturday night I saw a play at Rubicon Theatre Company, the local professional theatre in my hometown of Ventura, CA. The play was called Other Desert Cities, written by Jon Robin Baitz. The acting was pretty good, the set looked cool, and the script was well-written. It’s a well-known play. I feel like it was an example of the quintessential 4^th-wally American “realism” theatre.

But for me, it was like taking a vitamin, or eating vegetables. I didn’t really want to, but I knew that it was good for me to watch in the long run.

I definitely felt like something was missing. I think it was because there were no surprises. I expected everything that happened, and in the way that it happened.

There was no blue paint, pink goo, huge silver balloon dogs, swinging microphone-cameras, food being thrown, fire, dirt, large amounts of blood, bodies dropping from the sky – none of that. It was so incredibly safe.

It makes sense to me now that the above-mentioned list is what makes live theatre exciting. Why else does theatre need to be live? TV and movies can often tell clean-cut narrative stories in a better way, so theatre has to become something else. What can live theatre provide an audience that a screen can’t? All of that stuff. And more. I want more experimentation in my theatre-watching. And now I want to get really messy in my work. I don’t want to be perfect anymore. I want to mess something up. I want to surprise myself.

I’ll never be able to watch theatre in the same way again. I will always be waiting for that extra surprise. On one hand, my theatre-watching is ruined forever (although it was hard for me to watch theatre to begin with because I’d rather be doing it). But on the other hand, I’m excited and ready to take what I’ve learned and apply it, in order to make REALLY GOOD THEATRE. Even if it is a traditional 4^th-wally “realism” play. I guess what I am trying to say is that I think theatre can still be just as exciting without all of that wonderful spectacle stuff that Berlin whetted my appetite for, but I haven’t seen it here yet. Live theatre can be good if the acting is good, and has that same quality of being messy and surprising. I don’t think I saw that on Saturday night. But I’m ready to find it. Or create it myself.

And another thing! The curtain call was so incredibly short. The actors came out and bowed twice as a company, then left. I felt like we owed them more, no matter how we felt about the show. Maybe that’s something I can get used to again.

Diagnosed my frustration for Das Spiel Ist Aus

I will never forget how frustrated I was after seeing my first show in German. 

I was furious, annoyed, and completely submerged in stupid frustration. At the time when I was feeling frustrated, I wanted to undo my frustration but I couldn’t push it away. I thought I was the only one who didn’t understand what was going on but when I started talking to others about the show, I found out that I wasn’t the only one who was confused about the show that we watched. I can’t quite put my finger on why I was frustrated, but I think it has something to do with not understanding the context. I would have to say Christopher forced us to open our eyes and pushed us to step outside of our comfort zone from our first show. There are no words per say that can describe that night or even Berlin over all, except that you are pushed outside of your comfort zone constantly and forced to expand your mind and to be open to new knowledge. I couldn’t have done this by going to an American theater because there is no way I could have watched 18 shows in 21 days in America. I’ve never been mentally stimulated to think about theater so much in so little time. Also, seeing so many shows in German after Das Spiel Ist Aus showed me the point that Christopher was trying to prove: when watching a play, we should focus on the emotional rather than the literary context. As an actor, this is crucial for me to understand, but this also taught me how to watch theater- not that there is a right or wrong was, but I started building my taste by watching so many shows. I learned what I was more connected to- for instance, I saw so many amazing performances like Lars in Richard III, but I connected the most with Sesede from Mania.    

Since I’ve left Berlin, Das Spiel Ist Aus has been seeping back into my thoughts more than I would have expected and I can’t help but to remember the opening scene and how beautiful it was. The lights went on and I found out I was sitting on the stage and that the actors were in the audience's seats and were stripped naked. Also, they were really confused looking which is how I felt from the moment they started speaking. My mind -used to following the literary context of a play- was overstimulated trying to follow the storyline… in German. It’s crazy that my mind knowing to try to just follow the story was trying to decode the emotional meaning behind what they were saying instead of just letting go of the words and allowing myself to follow what was happening on the stage visually. At some point, I became really tired during the show because my brain was exhausted. (This reaction to the show was also annoying me and I think it’s clear that I was very much in my head while watching this show.) I knew I was thinking too much during the show and I think this was the real reason why I was frustrated after the show. Because I was trying so hard to understand but I just didn’t, this forced me to just be when watching Woyzeck and that show was no problem to just not care about. I was just giving myself the chance to watch whatever came across my eyes (and I saw a lot) and I was also slowly getting used to the German language. I think that the fact that I was getting more used to the German language is crucial because their string of words’ rhythm is different from the English language. From my basic understanding of the German language, German morphology allows for shorter phrases to say the same thing as English because their words are longer because they combine words together to form a new word, which is a morphological rule we don’t have in English. Also, the German language uses cases heavily and don’t have a specific word order, whereas the English language does have a specific word order of subject-verb-object and no cases because it was lost during the Middle Ages. I think if I were thrown into seeing plays in Spanish, French, or Portuguese, I wouldn’t have been as surprised at first because I’m used to how the languages sound even if I don’t know how to speak them that well. So I guess I can diagnose my initial frustration during watching Das Spiel Ist Aus as culture shock. I quickly got over this though the more I heard the German language and grew accustomed to following the emotional storyline of a show the more I watched plays. 

When watching Complexity of Belonging,  I think one of the reasons why it impacted me so much is because I was just starting to follow the emotional storyline more than the literary storyline mixed with paying attention to acting and emotional life that I’ve been told to pay attention to since Basic and Intermediate Acting and never evolved to pay attention to anything else until Berlin. Because I was back in my comfort zone for a night and watching a show in English, I was watching an English language play with new eyes. 

Reflecting on what I wish was the present but is now the past but influences my future

Now that I’m in Poland, I think I actually feel a little bit of a culture shock. I fell in love with my lifestyle in Berlin: waking up in the morning to go to a museum to learn about art, to draw, or to read and then in the evenings to watch a play that I would learn from whether I loved it or not. Now that I’m in Poland, I am actually using my brain twice as much to think of the right words to say and actually have to use my second language to get around. I’m also enjoying the country life while still dreaming about plays in the city. While my lifestyle has changed, my thoughts have not. I love theater more than ever and only wish to create work, learn more about theater and acting, and to continue seeing as much work as possible (without going bankrupt). I wish I could have recorded every moment and emotion I felt along the way because more than anything this was an emotional journey and I think I can speak on behalf of the whole class that we have all changed in some way. No one left Berlin as the person that they came as; however, the way we will continue living our lives is a choice. We will need to choose to use what we have learned and to replace our habits with new ideas and try out our new ways of thinking. The playing and experimenting doesn’t stay in Berlin; at least for me, I want it to continue. This blog will hopefully solidify this promise that I’m aiming to keep.

The truth is there is no real plan for my future as much as it would make me feel more comfortable to have one. There is no one who is more in charge of my future than myself (except for God). 

At some point of my trip, I recalled my first acting class that I had last fall semester. There was a fellow student in my class who had the issue of “the little fucker in the back of his head” that I could never part with since I heard that phrase because I knew I had that same thing happening to me. I was being self-conscious or self-critical or just preventing myself from my full potential (I don’t even know what to really call it) but I realized that my issue was going from inside the class room and into my life. One reason why I wanted to study abroad was because I knew I had to put myself in an environment that would convince my mind that I love this enough to continue because “the little fucker in the back of my mind” wouldn’t let me be. If what I’m saying doesn’t make sense what I’m trying to say is I'm preventing me from being me because of my own doubts. 

After Berlin, I just can’t do it anymore. I don’t know how, but 3 weeks was the perfect recipe for getting over this hill. 

Another reason why I know I was hesitant was because I was scared of my family’s reaction knowing that they didn’t support me acting. I think a better way of putting it actually is just that they are scared but I can’t let their fear stop me. I know that no one will also be more proud of me than them when I’m successfully doing my thing. Also, when telling a close family friend before Berlin about how I felt about my circumstance, her words of advice and from experience are to always stay kind to my parents, so along the way, I am just trying to ease everyone into it, which has been a juggling act, but I would have it no other way. I love them too much to be so selfish and I love myself enough to not choose a future that I know already I won’t feel fulfilled with. There is a quote by June Carter Cash that I always try to live by where people would ask her how she was and she would answer, “I’m just trying to matter”. Life matters to me, my family matters to me, and now I really cannot deny that theater matters to me. 

This title of this blog post pretty much means to me that as much as I would love to continue my adventures in Berlin, it’s time for the next step. I’ve learned what I’ve needed to about myself to keep going. While walking at different speeds along the way, I’m here now. I am in Poland with my family, eating Polish food, talking about acting and theater in Polish, and seeing my family change as they see how much this means to me. (granted some I haven’t seen from 3-10 yrs) Surprisingly, I have more support than I thought. I also think secretly I have my parents support but it is covered with fear, so while that is still hiding, I will work towards my future and hopefully prove them wrong in the process. It is time to change course and to finally allow myself to take the road I want to walk on, because I told the universe so… 

In airport terminals, no one can hear you scream…

Well, that isn’t exactly true. The other travelers who are stuck with me in this modern purgatory would probably lynch me if I did. Most of them look worn down beyond their years, victims of an inhumane bureaucracy and deceived by the allure of cheap airline tickets. I’ve managed to settle down decently on a foam mattress on top of a wood pallet that I found in the middle of the terminal. The other passengers are eyeing me with envy, waiting for a chance to steal my refuge. THEY WON’T. THIS IS MY NEW HOME. THEY’LL HAVE TO TAKE IT OVER MY DEAD BODY. I SWEAR TO GOD I WILL GO FERAL ON THESE MOTHERFUC-

Ahem. Sorry, that’s just the insomnia talking. Overall, things aren’t so bad here. The airport is relatively clean, with a modern aesthetic. For some inexplicable reason, this airport seems to have signed a product placement deal with LG, boasting their curved television screens that serve a questionable utility. Nonetheless, the things are everywhere, accompanied by signs extolling their virtues. Clearly, this is the pinnacle of 21^st century technological development. We have entered a new era-

….

Did that person actually offer me money for my makeshift bed? He held in his hand a sum of 2000 rubles. With some quick Google-fu, I calculate its value as nearly 40 USD. I stare at him, bewildered. Is this what long layovers do to people? Considering that I nearly felt driven to murder over furnishings that a homeless man would barely consider adequate, it must be so. The psychiatric community can stage some wonderfully insightful experiments in airport terminals, provided they don’t let little things like ethical concerns get in their OH GOD WILL SOMEONE SHUT THAT BABY UP?!

Ahem. This same man has been patrolling steadily around my small enclave, waiting for an opportunity of weakness. I sharpen a plastic knife in preparation. I consider my options, does the Russian government consider assault and battery charges similar to the United States? Maybe I can frame it as self-defense, hire the Russian Johnny Cochran, possibly pull some favors with the Kremlin-

I must be going mad. How long have I even been here? I’m steadily losing my sense of time. minutes blur into hours. I check my watch. My flight departs at 2:20pm in the afternoon and it’s currently …. 3:00 am.

Bleached white airport lights

Am I in purgatory?

Fourteen more hours….

Staging Idea inspired by The Lower Depth.

The idea popped in my head while I was listening to a sermon.
People instinctively know the sky is 'up' and the earth is 'down'.
We look up to the sky to gain peace. (Like we did after 120 Days of Sodom)
I thought it would be interesting to see  a play in another point of view because people feel that they are always 'under' a presence of bigger creator or a circumstance.

As The Lower Depth represented peoples' lives underground figuratively, I thought I would like to
make actors act under the stage and reflect them up to the stage made out of a mirror.(I am not sure how it will work..yet!) The play would be about something that audience can relate easily, about struggles related to human lives. (money, love, fame, emptiness...)
For some important parts, I would like to use cameras very close to actor's face.

I am enjoying my quite time alone.. not having much things to do.
However it is exciting to see all the stuff I have experienced in Berlin turning into new ideas :)

The end/The Blank Page

COMMON GROUND at Maxim Gorki Theater

COMMON GROUND at Maxim Gorki Theater; directed by Yael Ronen, created by Yael Ronen and the Ensemble (Vernesa Berbo / Niels Bormann / Dejan Bućin / Mateja Meded / Jasmina Musić / Orit Nahmias / Aleksandar Radenković), set by Magda Willi, costumes by Lina Jakelski, video by Benjamin Krieg and Hanna Slak, music by Nils Ostendorf, dramaturgy by Irina Szodruch

Lest We Forget

In Flanders fields the poppies blow

Between the crosses, row on row,

That mark our place; and in the sky

The larks, still bravely singing, fly

Scarce heard amid the guns below.

We are the Dead. Short days ago

We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,

Loved and were loved, and now we lie

In Flanders fields.

Take up our quarrel with the foe:

To you from failing hands we throw

The torch; be yours to hold it high.

If ye break faith with us who die

We shall not sleep, though poppies grow

In Flanders fields.