Arts week

I had another great arts week. Great arts weeks are never planned, they just happen. Like finding the love of your life, you can't look for a great arts week. They just pop up when you least expect it. In some ways they're better than finding the love of your life.  Questions like, "Is this the love of my life? How sure are we? If only they had different parents. Should we take a break to be sure? Why do they insist on saying 'will you borrow me this' instead of the correct 'will you lend me that'?" cannot be applied to arts weeks.

On Wednesday I went to Hay Fever at the Guthrie Theatre. It was hilarious show, I laughed a lot, and my cheeks hurt from smiling. Hay Fever isn't Shakespeare or high art, but it's fantastic comedic writing and all around great fun. Judith Bliss was the character highlight, a recently retired actress whose kids call her 'darling'. She's an expert drama queen, the kind of person you watch on stage and think, 'I need to know someone like this.'

Friday I went to the James Sewell Ballet. I like JSB. They can always be counted on for someting creative and different.
I went with a group called Theoroi which goes to shows and then meets with the artists/directors/someone related to the show afterwards so you feel like a REAL INSIDER. After the performance we went to the JSB rehearsal space for drinks and apps (I ate a very unballerina-like number of macaroons) and a Q&A with James Sewell and the dancers. The best part was one of the dancers talking about the second part of the show: 'We were changing stuff at 6:30 today. I had no idea what was going on.'

Saturday I went to Madame Butterfly. I forgot how terrible this story is* but Kelly Kaduce's (Butterfly) singing and acting was really moving. I actually almost cried and I always try not to be that pretentious person that is 'just soooo moved by the beauty of opera' that they can't control themselves (people who cry at the opera aren't always pretentious but it's a fine line I'm nervous about and therefore always lean more towards appearing to be an emotional black hole).

*To clarify, the story isn't badly told, it's just a terrible story - Pinkerton is a grade A jerk.