EGGY

The 2020 election is coming up, and so far there have been two Democratic Debates, both of which I watched. For a brief moment, the moderators brought up the topic of climate change. Yes, they addressed the topic, but I was disappointed by the surface-level discussion on the crisis. I think that we are still stuck in the process of bringing a conversation and attention to the topic, but there is so little to be done in presenting and enacting a solution.

STOP MIR REICHT'S!!! - STOP I'VE HAD ENOUGH!!!

ANYWAY, this conversion, or lack thereof, on climate change, reminded me of the day when I was walking back from Hamburger Bahnhof. While I was walking back, I noticed children walking with their parent(s), holding up signs. I squinted my way through the streets, not thinking much about the signs.

I eventually ended up at the Hauptbahnhof station and got my Rice On! because I was absolutely famished. I got the green curry with chicken meatballs and rice noodles. But that is beside the point. A family of three sat next to me and the dad was holding the daughter's sign. I stared far it for quite a long time to make out what it was, I probably stared a little bit too long. I accidentally made I contact and gave the dad a big smile and waved hi to ease the awkwardness. I nervously asked, "Sprechen sie Englisch?" He said, "Yes."

I apologized for staring and proceeded to ask him what the poster was for. He told me that students were stepping out of school that day to gather and take part in a rally to demand climate change outside the German capital. He also said that his daughter and her classmates were going to head to a natural science museum later to learn more about the environment.

I thought that that was so fricken cool, so I asked to take a photo of the poster.

It had a front AND a back!

STOP JETZT!!! - STOP NOW!!!

I learned a couple of things from this poster. There are so many contributors to climate change:

• Deforestation
• Factory pollution 
• Greenhouse gases from livestock
• Automobile emissions
• Shipping industry emissions
• Aircraft emissions
• Industrial pollution
• Air pollution

The main message: the planet is overworked from the increasing levels of fossil fuels.

It is pretty neat that something as simple a poster, a drawing, could communicate and bring attention to many important and complex topics. I found a pretty cool link of a brief history of protest art:

https://www.theguardian.com/artanddesign/gallery/2017/sep/06/a-brief-history-of-protest-art-from-the-1940s-until-now-whitney-new-york 

Art is powerful. An artist captures an experience, or experiences, through imagination and translates it in a drawing, a song, a play, a story, whatever it may be. Art is powerful in that for just a couple of minutes, the audience/spectator is looking at a picture, or watching a film, is caring about someone else's story/life. That is, in its purest form, empathy. Art can truly change the world if we start understanding and focusing on other people's story. We become more sensitive to other people's wants and needs, and we find a different perspective, the new "truth", on the world.

i am awake.

LIMBO 

Here I am, up at 3 am. Lying in bed with my eyes wiiide open because I have terrible jetlag and it is 9 am in Berlin, Germany. I am awake anyway, so I figured I should spend some time writing and reflecting on the 21 days I was abroad.

I spent my first day back at New Jersey working my 9 to 5 at an ophthalmologist practice, pre-testing patients and giving them eye exams... I watched the hours tick by, and I thought to myself, "What am I doing here?"

I have consumed so much for the past 3 weeks, but what am I supposed to do with it? 

In Berlin, I felt like a kid in a candy store, a fun-sized human taking in all of the art, theater, music, greenery, scenery, buildings, etc. After consuming all of the confectionaries, I felt a little spoiled... and guilty, I suppose. I feel like I have cheated myself by going back to my routine of working at a doctor's office without applying much of what I have learned throughout the trip into any medium of art. I feel lucky I have learned so much and I am amazed at how my mind broadened so much for the past 3 weeks, but I cannot help but feel a little guilty I am not doing anything related to theater.

I think, what I can do now is...reflect. I can talk to my parents, my sister, my friends, my family friends, my neighbors, and my pet goldfish Dobby, about my experience in Berlin, and flush out all of my emotions, share the stories of every photo, talk about the history of the buildings, cemeteries, memorials I have visited, etc., but all of this conversation leads to me thinking I should do something.
Please don't ask me what I want to do because I don't know what I want to do and I don't know how...

EPIPHANY

I am so frustrated with myself. I am frustrated with myself because I put too many expectations on this trip. The theater is a whole other realm for me, and I thought this trip was going to answer: what is my next step as a theater artist?

WELL! ASK AND YOU SHALL RECEIVE!!! What did I get myself into?!

I have never felt more filled to the brim with so much knowledge about theater, art, and history. My mind is running, running, and running. My mind is racing, like a hamster running in a wheel. I think the issue is that all this time, I thought there was only one direction to grow. I thought that this trip would point me to one clear path. I have been taught to choose one path and climb the "career ladder" there. The problem with the "career ladder", is that it is linear. The truth is life does not grow in one direction. I suppose growth, and being an artist, does not happen all at once -  it stretches and sprouts in different corners and bumps in life.

INSATIABLE

I am motivated to learn more about theater. I am motivated, but I am scared to be ambitious. I am scared because there are so many possibilities, but I am not sure if the path I choose is "right". I guess there is no "right" choice, and whatever I choose now can shape and inform me in some way in the future. I think I am scared I have to make a choice, any choice. What I am saying is, "I want to make a well-informed choice."

I want to challenge myself, and I recognize I must be realistic.

I think another thing I am also finding trouble with coping with the idea I am no longer part of a school where it is a place to try out new material but provides a safety net which allows me to fail.
Another thing is that the school provides training. I need more training. I need more practice. A theater minor was an intro to theater arts, but it is not enough to do anything really related to theater arts. So what do I do now? Should I find a mentor? Build relationships? Get a new internship? Read another book related to acting/theater? Join a movement class? Take voice lessons? Write another short story or a poem? Learn a new instrument? Paint? Get back to calligraphy? Create something?

I am curious, and I want to know and learn more.
I am trying to find an outlet and exercise what I have learned.
I don't know what to do with everything that is given to me, and one day I will find a way to utilize it.

There is so much to do, so much to learn, so much to practice, so much to express, so much share, so much to give...

PERSPECTIVE

Just when you think you are saturated with knowledge, you find there is so much more to learn about the world. In turn, it puts everything into perspective, and you learn a bit more about yourself.

There is another thing I realized from this trip: I am enough. 

I never gave myself a chance because I give myself a hard time. There were moments throughout this trip when I caught myself hesitating when I was speaking because I thought I was not well informed about theater. Little did I know that not knowing as much about theater and a background in science gave me a different perspective in examining art and storytelling.

I never gave myself a chance. Lack of confidence is a self-fulfilling prophecy.

If I never give myself a chance, how will I ever know what I am capable of?
If I never give myself a chance, how can I ever expect anybody else to give me a chance?

I hope I am not the only one who is struggling with this whole entire aspect of growth.

THE BEGINNING

There is something missing from this blog. A conclusion, perhaps? Well, ladies and gents, this blog is an introduction. My enlightening journey in Berlin opened up a new beginning. Good golly, what a refreshing, and like Lydia said, humbling feeling!

ANTICIPATION

I read this blog again, and I realized this post has a lot of chaotic energy.

There will be moments, like right now, where I find myself being overwhelmed, my mind in a frenzy, and riddled with anticipation, but I know that will be a placating voice in the back of my mind assuring me, "Life is a marathon, not a race."

First Show Post-Berlin

First of all, the curtain call didn’t go on for twenty minutes and I can honestly say that i missed it. It felt strange not showing my gratitude by clapping for seven or eight rounds of bows. I did fight the American urge to stand, though. 

Second, I saw a dance show. 10 Hairy Legs was the company, the show had no title. Very different than Dorky Park. It was four separate pieces without an overlying narrative. It did not play with the idea amateur. It was also an all male company. On purpose. Not sure how I felt about that. 

But, most shows I saw in Berlin did not tug quite so on my heart in the way that this one did. I cried a couple of times during the course of the show. It was just so beautiful and then suddenly there was water coming out of my eyes. It was like seeing the pandas run at the zoo. 

Suffice to say, it was a strange experience sitting down in a theater for the first time since Berlin. It was inevitable. And it served to further emphasize the differences between the performances in the countries. Germans definitely know how to combine performance styles like theater or dance or visual art and turn them into performance pieces. They play with ideas like the amateur, narrative, and strong visual pictures. America seems to focus heavily on talent and skill and the raw performance that a human body is capable of unhindered by other elements. 

My heart longs for both. And I am simultaneously amazed and perplexed and intrigued by all of this. 

21 Days of Currywurst

Now that I am back in the states, I've realized that I definitely ate my way through Berlin - whether it be italian restaurants, vietnamese food, the occasional (or daily) ice cream, but most of all my beloved currywurst.

If you don't know what currywurst is (I'm sure most of you do because I yelled about it for three weeks), it is a sausage with or without skin sliced up, covered in a yummy sweet yet spicy curry (ketchup?) sauce, sprinkled with curry powder, with a side of fries and mayo. Perhaps one of the cheapest, most filling, unhealthiest meals I had while there. Roughly 14 times. And I'm not exaggerating. It's my favorite food. Hands down.

So, my friends, as self-proclaimed resident currywurst expert - I'm going to tell you the best places to get your currywurst.

1. NEVER get currywurst at the zoo. It's terrible. And fake. However, it was the biggest portion of sausage of them all. But it did not make my heart sing the way currywurst should
2. Kraeuzburger actually has pretty good currywurst, but not the typical kind. It's a lot spicier here. But, I did get it every time we sat in Ackerstraße at night after a show. A plus - they let you take as much mayo as you want rather than serving it themselves. 
3. Curry Mitte - a fave. I only went once, it was closed on holiday the second time I tried to go. But, this was the best I had. It was the perfect sauce and a really good sausage. If you want to try currywurst, go here. Period. 
4. Hauptbanhof currywurst - I did damage here. I ate here most often because it was literally down the street from the hostel. Often a late night treat after a show. It ranks #2 on my list - they're quick, efficient, and delicious. Down and dirty. Not quite as heavenly as Curry Mitte - but I did have 9/14 currywursts here. And I am not ashamed.

With all of that said, I'm realizing the ridiculous quantities of sausage, curry sauce, fries, and mayo I consumed. But I do miss it. I may even be going through withdraw. 

My first meal in Berlin, naturally.

Hauptbanhof currywurst, sans fries.

Curry Mitte currywurst. Just look at how many fires they give you.

At that point I had eaten a fair bit of the wurst.

Zoo currywurst. I have no words. Just sad.

Takeout currywurst from Kraeuzburger. My mouth was on fire.

Sit down currywurst from Kreauzburger. Currywurst on a plate just doesn't have the same touch as curry wurst in a paper wrapper.

My holy grail - Hauptbanhof currywurst. Featuring the weird dog that was on the hostel carpets. Look at all of that mayo. My mouth is watering and my heart is aching for it.

You did what in Berlin????

I believe in doing things impulsively. Otherwise thought may get in the way and prevent you from doing the thing. Whether it be walking in the city and impulsively deciding where to go next and discovering something new along the way, or going on a gut-feeling when figuring out where you want to eat. I think the best things come out of split second decisions.
This also may just be me justifying the fact that I got a tattoo while in Berlin. However, I knew that I did indeed want to get a tattoo while I was there since getting my acceptance. I wanted something that would forever be Berlin and be with me. I just didn't know what that was. It seemed to be a happy fate that one of my fellow trip-goers also wanted a tattoo while we were there. And it was also happy fate that while we were discussing what we wanted we both mentioned snakes. So, snakes it was (i.e. split second decision).
Now, catch me getting a little sappy here.. But I initially was worried about not knowing anyone on this trip and not being able to make friends with them. This is exactly the opposite of what happened. I ended up surrounded by lovely, friendly, incredible people for three weeks. It seemed only fitting that Iz and I have commemorative Berlin tattoos, but also a sort of bond. From strangers to friends in three weeks.
So, an impulse turned into reality. With lots of laughs, a lot of shrugs, a printing adventure, good coffee (twice), some hella good vegan burgers, and two tattoos. So, heres to split-second, here goes nothing, I guess this is happening, impulses.

Meet my snake:

I love him very much.

1:08pm surrounded by life

I have far too much to say and far too little tine left in this city. It is 1:08pm on June 9th. I am sitting in a rose garden somewhere near Bellevue Palace. I am by myself, yet surrounded by so many. I only have two days left here, and that makes my heart heavy. I am not entirely sure why, I can't quite put my finger on it. I think these past few weeks have been one big einfuhlong for me. Berlin is a work of art. Full of art. Full of life. Fully of history. I can feel it all around me. It is something that makes my brain buss and my toes tingle. I haven't felt this way in a long time. Awake. Alive. Hungry. And I only had to cross an ocean for that.
I learned something new every day and I learned even more about myself. Berlin has been a bug step in my journey of self discovery I realized I can be so much more and I can do so much more. I am not one specific thing. I am an artist. And I can own that. 
Since learning about the post dramatic in Dramaturgy, and since aligning myself as a dramaturg, I have felt a sort of kinship and attraction to German theater. They see things differently that we do. They live in the post-dramatic. They eat up theory. And then they do it. They devise, they alter text, they play with design. It was a refreshing break from the American pace. Among learning things about myself, I saw bits and pieces of art and performance that I want to do. It may not be realistic to work in Berlin one day, but it is realistic to brings aspects of their craft here.  Nothing is stopping us here in America from bringing the post-dramatic here. It may take time, and it will certainly take adjustment, but it is possible to introduce a new way of thinking and a new model. And I want to forever thank Berlin for showing me that. To show me the dream and how to make it realistic.
It will hurt to walk away from what feels to be the epi-center of the work that I want to do. What I had been waiting an entire school year for. It has left me hungry for so much. I want to read the theory books. I want to make connections. I want to see shows that challenge what performance is. I want to live in the post dramatic and never leave. But I walk away with such a sense of artistic fulfillment that I haven't gotten in a long time. I walk away knowing that I have stretched my intellect and flexed my observational skills. I walk away knowing that I have grown, tangling roots with the city and reaching for the sky. I walk away humbled, motivated, and happy. 
Berlin will always need you.

The Final Selfies - Part II

The Last, Last Ones

Orangerie Selfie ft. Christopher Cartmill. 2019.

 And just like that, we are at our end. Who would have thought that these selfies would carry me on this journey of bloggery?

Potsdam. You could have killed me but, alas, you did not. I did not think I would need sunscreen but, alas I did. I really thought that would do the trick but, alas, it did not.

Even though I got burnt, I still as able to enjoy the beauty of Sans Souci. It was truly enormous. It blows my mind to think that those grounds were somebody's backyard.

Hearing about Frederick the Great's past, his lover, and his pain was very powerful. It's rare that I hear something about queer history that I don't already know. The way that I cope with uncertainty or fear or any emotions that we humans usually seek to avoid is by researching it until it no longer hurts. That's what I did when I first began discovering my own queerness. I know a lot because I have been uncertain and scared a lot. So, it's always such a joy to learn something new that I hadn't dug up in moments of weakness.

Hauptbanhof Photobooth Headshot. 2019.

 How funny that my first "professional" headshot was taken in a photo booth in a train station in Berlin.

The night before, I received an email that my piece had been accepted. The next morning I received an email requesting a headshot. Where in the world was I going to get a headshot in GERMANY? I certainly could not use the photo I had brought to every college audition. Long hair. Baby face. Next to a tree. Braces.

I remembered the photo booth that I had taken a photo in for 1 Euro. In the Berlin Hauptbanhof train station. I wiggled into my black turtleneck, and applied some concealer to my hormonal acne. Cute.
In my old-ass Birkenstoccks, I shuffled into the tiny vestibule and slipped in 2 Euro to the machine. And, behold, my iconic first headshot.

The Look of Frustration on Eurowings Flight 1112. 2019.

Flying internationally sucks. I had only slept two hours (hardly) the night before due to a heavy rain storm that had several of us trapped in the cafe at Schaubuhnne. I also had not eaten anything except a bagel before seeing Richard III and continued this fast until I arrived home (over 24 hours later). Long story short, I was a mess. 

Some Beautiful stages and Theaters of Berlin

Navigating my Way through Berlin with only English

 On May 21^st, the day I finally made my way into the Berlin Empire of Germany through Tegel airport, felt a bit exciting but intimidating. Arriving In Berlin, I was now faced with the challenge of finding my way to Professor Cartmill who was chilling and having tea at 65 Oranienburgerstrasse, which was the place I had to meet with him. I took a bus to Oranienburgerstrasse where I thought it was like the American bus system where I handed the ticket to the bus driver but it was not like that. I sat in the bus still confused and contemplating where I was. I was nervous about who to talk to because I could not speak Deutsche, but I had to ask or I would be even lost in the city that I wouldn’t find my way back. I took the risk and asked a man where I could find Oranienburgerstrasse and the man couldn’t speak English. At that point I thought I was in trouble and that I was not going to make it to my address but luckily he knew what I was talking about and told me in German that he would show me where it was, which I got from what he said. He led me and guided me from the bus to the train station. He somehow looked completely lost as if he didn’t know where he was going but I thought to myself that he must know this city more than me so I continued to follow him. He continued to lead me and we both took two connecting trains to a certain train stop where he had to come to a stop in his journey told me to take the next three stops to Oranienburgerstrasse and I would be at my destination. I got to my stop, called up Professor Cartmill and met him sipping tea with a croissant at the Gladiator hotel and I was finally happy to see him.

               Having to communicate with a German speaker who couldn’t communicate was the most nerve-racking but interesting experience I have had coming into Berlin. It taught me that there is always a method to communicate even with body signals and that taking most risks to ask questions and open  yourself to other people is beneficial in various ways. I think that if I go through that experience again now, it would be less nerve-racking.

Beauty Standards

Erin and I took a good chunk of our time in Museum Island and at other museums admiring the bodies. 

We stopped to look at this painting...

...and stood in silence.

She leans over and whispers to me, "You know, I used to think that boobs were not that far apart... and I did not think that it was natural to have a tummy like that."

And then a whole dialogue that ran through my mind:

A: "Shit, Erin you are right. For a good amount of time in my life, I did not know that bodies were shaped like that too. I didn't know that boobs were that far apart. I did not know that all of us had tummies. I totally did not know that it was natural to have lumps and bumps around arms and legs..."

B: "Why was it beautiful then to be curvy?"

A: "Curvy was beautiful because it probably meant you could bear children."

B:: "Beauty standards were waaaay different back then than it is right now."

A: "But here do these beauty standards come from?"

B: "Who decides to create these rules?"

Stares at painting.

A: " You know what? Fuck the rules" 

B: "Yea, fuck the rules. Why the fuck do I give a damn?"

A: "Yea fuck beauty standards."

B: "Fuck em all."

Walks away from painting

A: Have you found peace within yourself yet?

B: No. Not yet, but I do feel better.

A: That's fair.

The Final Selfies - Part I

The Last Ones

Peace-Sign Selfie at the Berggruen Museum. 2019.

 Boy, by the end of this trip I was really pooped. I played this game as a marathon (not a sprint), but guess what? People are still tired by the ends of those, too!
Taking time for myself was crucial for my recovery after each day. Lesson learned.
A couple of us took a trip to the Berggruen Museum across from Charlottenburg Palace. That was my favorite spot when I first visited Berlin two years ago. This time around, the museum seemed barren with only a few paintings to each room and blank walls sporting hundreds of nail holes.

Too-Artsy-For-You-Because-I-Said-So-Selfie. 2019.

 Meeting Sandra at the Gorki cafe was super cool. I have only meet one real-life dramaturg before, and I left still not understanding exactly what she does. To be honest, I still am not quite sure what dramaturgs do, but I have the sense that European dramaturgs have more fun.
After seeing "You are not the Hero of this Story," I could not help wishing I could have seen more at the Gorki. Next time.

First Attempt at Hauptbanhof Station Photobooth Selfie. 2019.

Yes, I was bored. Yes, I was feeling myself. Yes, I was left to roam the Hauptbanhof alone.
Hi, my name is Jessie McLaughlin, and I love photobooths. My mom and I used to hop into every photobooth we could find when I was little. We would make funny faces and give the camera the middle finger... always. After starting this selfie series, I decided to grab a real selfie at the ever-so-inviting photobooth at the train station. I thought it was a great snapshot of where I was on my trip, my life, and a little bit of homage to my mother (whom I was missing dearly and wanting to take care of my and my rashes).

Street Art Selfie ft. Erin and Charlotte. 2019.

 Erin, Charlotte, and I should never be left alone together. Actually, scratch that. We fun as shit.
We decided to ditch the crowd and follow our hearts to the bubble tea place that always seemed to have a line out the door. What made this bubble tea place so popular? We wanted to find out. While Erin tried to figure out which flavors wouldn't affect her acid reflux, Charlotte and I ordered our drinks. And, boy, it was worth it. I usually end up getting a headache and nausea after drinking a whole cup of bubble tea, but I was on top of the world after this one. 10/10 would recommend.
After bubble tea, we stopped by a vegan restaurant. I ordered a salad that had vegan "chicken" nuggets on top?  I don't understand but I understand.

Pre-Haircut-Sad Boi Selfie. 2019

 As I have stated in previous blog posts, I needed a haircut. The photographic proof is above.

Post-Haircut-Happy Boi Selfie 2019.

Damn, did I feel good after my haircut. I still do. It's wild how affirming a haircut can be. That hair can be. Lots of thoughts. Feel free to read my queer blog post.

Last selfies continued in next post...

Babylon Berlin

Willingness on Eurowings Flight 1112

On a seven hour flight, one has the option to do many, many things whilst remaining in one's allotted two square feet of "space." One could sleep, listen to music, write, read, draw or, in my case, choose to take advantage of Eurowing's in-flight film and television selections.

I could have rewatched "The Favourite" or finally seen "Three Billboards..."

Instead, I picked "Babylon Berlin." And not just any "Babylon Berlin." I'm talking NO English dubbing and NO English dubbing. That's right, folks. I said it. I watched "Bablyon Berlin" completely in German.

Which, in case you were wondering, was a choice I would have never made on purpose before going on this trip to Berlin. Pre-Berlin-Jessie would have resolved to watch it on Netflix at home because she could get English subtitles then. Post-Berlin-Jessie buckled down for a bumpy ride knowing for certain that language is not necessarily the barrier that she once thought it was.

No No Sorry Go

I  just want to preface by saying this but this post has been LONG overdue and has been sitting in my notes. Okie dokie lets go!

In our after show discussions/ lunch discussions we have been taking about gender and after watching four shows this past few weeks which all orbit around the issues of gender in society, I have decided to buckle my 2019 pants and sort of go through a lot of things I have been thinking/ feeling.

Maybe because I am in a foreign country that I am very alert and aware of my surroundings but I have noticed that men in this country have NO SHAME when looking/ interacting with a woman. Never in my life have I had more men/boys stare, talk, follow or even try to interact with me in my goddamn life and I want to know why. Like the United States is very Anglo so what is the difference between these European men vs the ones at home? I honestly couldn’t tell you because I am not a man and I have no idea what would be the factors that would have to be to have it so that I would be always very aware of all women and if I were interested, I would feel very comfortable about approaching them. Again, this whole gender thing is still on my mind. I have been very privileged to live a life in where I never questioned my gender it’ll gender identity  so like ngl gender has always been on my mind but more in the sense of self identity ie, what does it mean to be a woman or a man but now I’m looking at it from the perspective of how that form of self identity helps people move through life. During the discussion after the show we saw at Gorki, Will felt but later amended his comment that the show presented it self in a way in which he felt attacked and whether that is some subconscious thing or not, that initial comment is rooted in how his gender identity moves him through his everyday life. Whether or not Will still feels that way about the performance isn’t what I’m trying to point out but it’s that comment that got me thinking about gender and how it operates in the larger scale of life. So I have these rabbit hole thoughts about gender and I keep having these thoughts about the catcalling and the shameless dudes that look and talk to me and idk how I’m going from step 1 and 2 relating to this whole gender identity thing but I’m ending up at step 27 at this whole guy thing. In my mind its all interconnected but because its currently 1am I can't seem to find the words to explain how, I just feel it. 

Leben In Der Unbequem pt 2

Imagine a scenario:

You are a slightly tired, overly hungry, mildly headached teenager on your way to a German play.  Your room key is locked and so you arrive at the beautiful Berliner Ensemble theatre in a sundress and running sneakers. 

Yesterday at the show I discovered an interesting phenomenon. Yes, there is emotional or mental discomfort, but there is also physical discomfort. When I first wrote my blog post I had in mind the more mental discomfort. Perhaps viewing a performance that addresses a subject matter you are keen to forget or often avoid. These scenarios can have great power for an audience member. 

However, I had forgotten the equal power that physical discomfort can have on a person. In school this year, one of my teachers was very big on not only mental/emotional discomfort, but also physical. We tend to live in a generation the always has a solution for every problem. If it’s too cold in a room we put on a sweater, or too hot we turn on the AC. Which can be an amazing thing, I mean we’ve evolved so far as human beings that we literally can solve every little problem that we might have in a day. The only problem then is, sometimes it can be good for these things not to be solved. Like mental discomfort, it can make us learn about ourselves or the world in ways that we wouldn’t without this uncomfortable experience. 

Therefore I choose to be grateful for the experience that I had last night. Never mind it being an incredibly done production, not only technically but also with jaw dropping direction and very effective actors, what I felt last night was quite hard to describe through just words. Therefore I will try to explain through the list below...

A catalyst to a list of things in the same vain, that make me slightly physically uncomfortable:
- eating too much bread in too tight an outfit
- wearing running shoes and a sundress at the same time
- too much teenage boy BO + axe, not enough shower
- rubbing up against a moist stranger
- having wet feet, then stepping in sand, then putting your socks on
- sticking to a public transportation plastic seat
- wearing a sock that will not stop sliding down in your shoe

Einfühlung

What do you do with art that does not make you feel anything? That evokes no einfühlung, empathy, or beauty to you?

a) nothing. walk away.
b) appreciate it for the piece of art that it is.
c) pretend like you "understand it" and put on a big spectacle so the other around you believe it deeply affects you.
d) trash it. to EVERYONE.
e) other.

Musiktheater

Musical. Theatre. Okay so I was not gonna write a blog post about this because I have an unbelievable amount of thoughts on this subject, and honestly I thought that no one would want to read this but who cares! I'm just gonna get out my stream of consciousness Erin style and hope that it is somewhat competent.

So honestly, before I started becoming interested in this trip I had no idea of the amazing theatre scene that was going on here in Berlin. I was so bubbled into the NYC/NJ theatre scene that I was oblivious to the impact theatre had on the rest of the world. Therefore I had no idea what impact musical theatre had on Germany.

When we were talking to Roland he mentioned coming to America and being amazed by the performers who could sing and dance just as well as they could act. Which I completely understand, after one of the shows that included musical interludes I realized how machine-like the chorus girls we see in the US are. And I've always known, through my research or friends, that going to most of the musical theatre college BFA programs is pretty much like going to a theatre boot camp. The amount of stamina and skill it requires to sing, dance and act on the professional level 8 times a week is incredible. However, after a while it tends to become just that, a machine. I've heard many stories about broadway performers simply preforming in musicals where it just becomes a routine, no real life in their storytelling, simply going through the motions. And although we may pity or look down upon this, these kind of performances are often accepted by the American public viewing these shows. Because we do live in such a consumer based theatre community, simply giving the audience what they surface-level and technically expect to see is accepted.

That's why I think I was so disappointed when I came to see Ball At Savoy. Coming from an American musical theatre background I think that there has been certain techniqual aspects of theatre drilled into me. That were not only common sense to that community, but also just widely accepted. Small things such as aligning the "t" sounds at the ends of phrases when singing in a chorus, or certain hand movements that were never to be done onstage because they appeared "not honest". Little things that made me so agitated that these opera and musical theatre performers did not know. They were big stars with successful careers and were over twice my age, yet did not seemed to be as versed in the musical theatre culture that me and so many of my friends grew up on.

Yet then in the second act I had a realization; 1. Charlotte, you're being a bitch. Yes, you're allowed to have your own opinion on a production, but you're not allowed to judge every little bit of it without giving the artists any credit. 2. Musical theatre, as well as just theatre in general is different all around the world.

And so I think that I have come to the realization to be critical and have opinions on art that I might see, but not judge and deflect every single little bit that I disagree with because 1. Just because something does not have an effect on me does not mean it does not profoundly affect another person and it should be appreciated for that 2. Just because a piece of art does not make you feel anything doesn't mean it is worthless 3. "EVERY. SINGLE. THING. HAS. FLAWS." (Jessie McLaughlin)

Ein Schauspieler

I am kind of freakin out here. In response to Pansy's post about being in limbo I felt the need to express my similar thoughts. I mean I think that at this time this is exactly how we are supposed to feel. It is quite a culture shock getting back to America, and although I am SO grateful to be home and SOO grateful for the experience I had in Germany, the combination of the two has got me feeling quite restless. And not just because I keep waking up at 5am craving dinner. (?)

I want to be an actor. I am questioning a lot of things about my life right now because of the trip but that is one thing that I can say with 30000% confidence. And I am grateful for this, but it's also torturing me.

I know that I am an artist and can create anytime that I want. And I am going through the motions of auditioning and creating art and talking to different people, but I just don't feel satisfied.

Watching a million shows was INCREDIBLE and I will never forget the ways that I stretched my creative and intellectual muscles on that trip. But every time I would walk out of a performance all that was going through my mind was "I want to do that, and I want to do that now".

I think I might also be feeling a bit of discomfort because the job of an actor that we were exposed to in Germany was so different than I had though from America. I love auditioning and the constant carefree mindset that actors have here. I think that I operate well on the "just audition, don't care if you get the part or not" mentality. However, when you're not actually getting the parts, or not even getting an audition it starts to get to you as an artist. In Germany it AMAZED me how stable the career of an actor was. Never had I thought before that you could be an actor coming right out of school and have such a stable career.

So. Hm. I guess I'm just intrigued by that but also I have a lot of hope for the future, and I have a lot of motivation for my present! I am just very grateful for this trip and the passion it has re given me. And although I might feel a little discomfort, this is good! And I know it will pay off in the end

:)

The German Sniffle

An Unsung Disgrace

Nathan, I suggest you read this. Right now.

ElectraX on Expat.com writes:

"In the part of the U.S. that I grew up in, it was taught to us since childhood, that one must be conscientious about where one blows their nose.  Not in front of large groups, not in public, and definitely NOT at the dinner table.  Preferably, one would go to the bathroom to blow their nose, or somewhere private where hot water and soap is readily available (perhaps this is one of the influences of our Puritan ancestors?).  When I arrived in Germany three weeks ago, I was shocked to see that people of all ages and all levels of education/income blow their noses everywhere and anywhere!  You could be in the middle of a conversation and boom the man you are conversing with has suddenly whipped out a used kleenex and is emptying his mucous into it, while you can only watch, mouth agape, horrified.  People do it at the dinner table, they do it in the street, on the bus, anywhere!

I find this hilarious, because my German mother always went on about how mannerless we U.S. Americans are, and here I am in her homeland, noticing all the things that we in the U.S. would consider rude.  Is anyone right or wrong?  Are there truly good or bad manners that can be recognized globally?  Or are there are there just "different" manners?"

OBSERVATION, CONTEMPLATION AND DOCUMENTATION: An Installation

playwright in blue 

collective viewing 

contemplative observation 

people on people 

loot at klee #1

look at klee #2

woman looks at phone instead of art 

man mansplains to man

the weaver(s)

observing the audience

cranes in yellow

squirrel-friends

WHAT DOES ANY OF IT MEAN???

A REALIST DISGUISED AS AN OPTIMIST IN A PESSIMIST'S WORLD
You know what sucks...? You know what hurts...?
Statistics. Statistics hurt. Statistics suck.
Hearing them is one thing.
Seeing them is another.
Reading them is yet another.
But believing them is still quite another.
How does one navigate a world in which most of the facts are misconstrued?
How does one navigate a world in which opinions have become accepted as facts?
How does one navigate a world in which facts have become accepted as opinions?
Facts are facts.
Opinions are opinions.
You can have opinions on facts.
The world is broad and bleak.
And history is repetitious.
History is constantly taught as though it is only an act of remembrance.
As though it's only a timeline.
As though it's only a memory.
But history is ever present.
It is constantly hovering. Constantly waiting for the proper moment to act.
To react.
To reenact.
To regroup.
To repeat.
History is tempestuous.
It is tumultuous.
It is real and relevant and it lingers.
How do we address our own environment, our own country that seems to be built on denial...?
The horrors and atrocities that our own country has enacted that are often times forgot.
The misdeeds and mistreatments that are never taught in schools because they're the past.
"They are history."
How do we move forward when those long buried anecdotes and facts rise up from the grave to bite us in the ass?
Must we experience similar fates in the now for the current cohabiting generations to remember, to care?
Must we wake every morning and have the cold dark facts stare us in the face to elicit sympathy, to inspire action, to effect change...?
Must we...?
Must we...?
Must we...?

embracing technology

Over the last few weeks of seeing works here in Berlin. One of the aspects of the German theater and Germanic helmed art in general is there acceptance and nuance in the way they aid story telling with technology. I was blown away the first night by the way they used film to give a deeper look into what was going on with a characters inner life, and the way the aesthetic of the film worked with the white of the set and the writing on the wall. Then I was come to realize this was nothing new or revolutionary Ostermeier was doing with Bernhardi when we continued to see the use of film in almost every piece we saw, but it was an example of the way Brecht continues to influence the German (and world) theater.

I know there is a conversation about whether using Film is deviating from the root of the "live theater." But I believe theater, like all art,  is a form that evolves with its time. So drawing on film to aid live storytelling only seems like a step forward for the art in such a technologically driven world. I also think there is a taboo around experimenting with different concepts in New York because there is so much money that goes into the shows that New York theater has become about what works, even if it is praised with meaningless critical jargon like "Fresh" or "Current."

The other night I was watching "How to Sell Drugs Online (Fast)," a Netlix show created and helmed by a Germanic team, and the use of technology in this show was so well done that it gave the fun show another level of honesty and plays another character in the show which behaves in an accurate way. A fine example of German story telling using technology in another form other than the theater.

'Merica embrace and catch up.

QueerqueerQUEeRqUeErQueerquEEr

Thoughts on a Genderless Haircut

My hair was getting moppy. Really, it was moppy.

You all know it. I looked desperately for someone - anyone - to cut my hair here. It seemed like my only option was to book an appointment for my well-loved gender neutral salon in New York on my return. But I could not go another day with mes cheveux fous. 

I was shocked to find Germany to be so gosh darn binary'd. With so many women here having short haircuts and so many men here looking what we Americans might call "metrosexual," I must say I was surprised when I started getting those German stares.

Yes, I know Germans stare at everyone. However, there seems to be something different about the way I present myself that makes people want to tap their friends on the shoulder and - "Now, don't all look at once!" - all look at once. It's been weird to say the least. Living in 15 minutes out from Manhattan all my life has spoiled me in a lot of ways.

I found my hair-dilemma to be this: I could either get an entirely-too-expensive-because-gendered-pricing-sucks "Mom" haircut at a women's salon, or I could find myself in a dangerous situation at a barbershop. I wanted neither.

Eventually, I stumbled over the Facebook page for something called Butch Cut, a queer sustainable community building art project. Now that's more like it!

Here's a little about them...

"Hair is an important medium of erotic communication for queers of all genders. I really enjoy cutting hair, especially masculine retro and urban street styles. I've been cutting my own and my friend's hair for 20+ years. I really enjoy talking to people and creating the style they want. I don't impose haircuts on anyone. I do my best to make the customer feel sexy in their skin and about their hair. I love using electric hair clippers, and I focus on turning the routine of getting a hair cut into a delightful ritual of self-care, that both relaxes and renews energies. I see cutting hair as a form of energy exchange, and I am doing it because I love it. I hope this positive attitude is transferred to and appreciated by the people who ask me to cut their hair.

About me [Hank] : Professionally, I'm a trained curator of contemporary art, I've worked as a community organizer, vegan and non-vegan chef, a boxing trainer for women, and I played in several punk bands."

Wow. I was convinced. 

Unfortunately, they were all booked up. Not only that, but Hank, the founder and main artist, was no longer taking any new clients. Damn.

I decided to take a chance and send an email:

"Hello!

My name is Jessie, and I’m a gender non-conforming theater artist. I’d love to be put down on the waitlist for Butch Cuts to trim my short, shaggy locks!

Thank you so much.

Sincerely,

Jessie"

A week later, I was booked. Hank explained later that they made an exception for me because of my quirky email. Score.

I arrived early for my appointment for many reasons:

1. It was pouring outside.

2. The commute was faster than I had anticipated.

3. I was anxious that day because of the morning visit to the Topography of Terror.

The shop was in the mudroom of Hank's first-floor apartment. When I arrived, someone was in the middle of their haircut. They were getting a classic, men's cut with a massive fade. In between brief peeks at pages in a pile of zines, I watched as they transformed. Another person arrived, another transformation. I'll admit it, I cried for them.

My turn. We talked about German Theater and American Theater and Soft Butches and Hard Butches and What-Does-That-Even-Mean and Gender and Presentation and Acting and Casting and Hair and Fluidity and Butch Culture and Respect for Women and Hair and Fear and Trust and Hair and Control and Hair.

Hank even offered me a job there if I ever wanted to come back to Berlin. I said absolutely.





Here's a link to my feature on the Butch Cut instagram if you were interested:

https://www.instagram.com/p/ByYxNzgnQU_/?utm_source=ig_web_copy_link

Utilizing Uncertainty

The most recent Tesla car models come equipped with 12 ultrasonic sensors, 8 surround cameras, and a forward-facing radar with a detection range of 160 meters (approximately 1.5 football fields in length). Why all of this? To eliminate uncertainty. Engineers have a long standing rivalry against uncertainty. Getting rid of as much of it is as possible is an unspoken requirement of almost any design. Carrying this viewpoint in to the world of theater, now I am the one who is uncertain. Maybe uncertainty is not so bad.

The second show we watched was Árpád Schilling’s Der Letzte Gast (The Final Guest). Around halfway through the play, leaves previously dropped on stage were blown across, right into the audience! I was excited, but it felt like a risky move. What if the actors (who were on stage) had debris blown into their eyes? Being blinded during a live performance hardly seemed beneficial. The stakes were raised higher in Patrik Ouředník’s Europeana, with actors purposefully stumbling all about a wet floor littered with dolls!?! It was an OSHA nightmare. I got anxious thinking of how high the probability is for something to go wrong.

Jumping ahead a couple days to our meeting with Simon Will from Gob Squad, I heard something that changed my view of uncertainty. “A performance is not supposed to be fixed, it is supposed to live,” or at least that is what Simon says. The way actors manipulate uncertainty in a play is what makes it so lively and in the moment. The world of 1’s and 0’s a computer recognizes is not very tolerant to uncertainty, forcing most engineers to adopt the same intolerance. Instead of allowing this intolerance to handicap the engineering approach, maybe what should be created are machines that allow us too to utilize uncertainty. The two extremes of 1’s and 0’s can never adequately define the world we live in. And besides, it is best not to deal in absolutes.

8 Big Foreheads, ??? Acts, 1 Century Later

Three Billion Sisters is an opera (?) done by a high school group (?) in collaboration with Volksbühne (?). It was (mostly) in German, with German subtitles. Lucky us. The nonsensical production was supported by a nonsensical understanding of what was going on. It would be a disservice to the show to even remotely attempt to describe what took place on the stage over the course of two hours. 

What I will present to you is an inventory of my thoughts that occurred to me over the course of the show. This perhaps (with a grain of salt) may have been the show I enjoyed the most so far because there was no pressure to understand it or contemplate it. Enjoyment does not necessarily mean it was good, but it brought me joy. It felt like I sat down on my couch on a Saturday morning to watch the Jetsons with my family. Lighthearted. (unintentionally) Funny. Most certainly an experience. 

Inventory:

• 8 sisters in fact, not three billion
• They are indeed a chorus of teenage girls like we have seen before, but let hypnotic than our girls in Cry Baby
• They surpass a five-head. It’s probably like a ten-head honestly. But the huge foreheads and George Washington-esque hair did a lot for them. Mostly the huge foreheads made room for whatever mechanisms were necessary to shoot haze and glitter out of the tops of their heads. Geez they must have been heavy.
• Please please please look up the song Three Billion Summers. I honestly believe that this was the inspiration for the production. Just listen to it. They sang it. I cried I was laughing so hard. The other audience members did not appreciate it. 
• ALSO THEY MADE A MUSIC VIDEO. These 8 teenage girls took this song and made a music video for it in front of Volksbühne. It has absolutely no correlation to the design of the production. Here it is: https://youtu.be/3TEBvMJFY1k
• 3/4 of the stage was a huge rake that was supposed to be a dome surface. All I could think about was them slipping off and falling. They literally shuffled around the surface like they were afraid of it. I think it could have been less steep and still accomplished the same effect. 
• Two songs were in english. They were both pop (?) songs. This leads me to believe that they conceived this entire opera (?) on their own. Please enjoy some of these lyrics: Boomerang my happy face, boomerang my sad face, boom boom boomerang. Crying bacardi tears. We’re shakin booties. I was gonna clean my room but then I got high. I was gonna feel emotion but then I got high. 
• One of the trap doors broke at one point and was sticking up. And it happened right before the ballet number (yes the ballet number). No one fixed it. I really thought they were going to break their necks. They were bumping into each other because they had to adjust themselves because of the trap door. 
• In addition to a ballet number there was a solo hiphop number by some irrelevant character that went on for faaaaaaaaaar too long
• There was a comet (ie. Komet). This comet was a girl. Hanging from the fly system. In a huge hoop skirt. There were moments where she literally came down for a single line and then went right back up. It was hilarious. 
• Let’s talk about the fourth act. It consisted of the curtain opening. Glitter cannons firing. One line of vocalization. And the curtain closing. And that was it. 
• So much yellow. 
• They tried to do the live video thing and project it on moon-like surfaces. That was pretty cool. It made no sense, but still pretty cool. 
• One of the sisters was on stilts and then there was this huge shadow moment where she took the stilts off. Not really sure what that was about. 
• There was a gasoline can. With gold glitter inside. A man in a white latex coat sprinkled it around the stage and lit a match. I think that was supposed to be the end of the world?
• The subtitles were fun. Sometimes they didn’t match up with what they were singing. Sometimes on purpose sometimes not. “One century later.....”

Overall it was so much fun to sit in the show. I cried twice because I was laughing so hard. I spent a lot of it with my jaw open. I spent a lot of it dancing in my seat. The nonsense was good for my heart, my head, and my artistic sense.