Studying theatre in London has been a dream of mine since I started pursing theatre seriously-- so since fifth grade. I am currently three months into a four month semester program with the London Academy of Music and Dramatic Arts and it has been full of ups and downs but mostly experiences that I will never forget. As I approach my birthday and Thanksgiving I have been, admittedly, home sick but the lack of pumpkin pie and gravy is worth it.
As a director once told me years ago, theatre school is a marathon not a sprint.
Every other day we have class days and workshop days. Today was a class day with Movement, Acting, and Sonnet voice work. In movement we floated-- playing with Laban
efforts. In acting we focused on gesture work. And in voice we began working on our sonnets. Workshop days we rehearse different plays. Currently we are working on A Midsummer Night's Dream. Then, on Wednesdays, we have Singing, Alexander Technique, and Historical Dance (one of my favorites).
The biggest learning curve has been that I should believe in myself more when it comes to singing. I have been pushed--or shoved-- to forget my nerves and trust. Technically that is a note that I have gotten from all teachers but especially in singing. In other classes its not nerves that get in my way but my head. I have certainly gotten closer to getting out of my own head recently. Still a long way to go though.
Despite long days, we have had lots of fun together as a company and separate ensembles. (They split us up) We've gone to several Globe productions, King Henry VIII's castle, Dublin, and more.
Although we are working on our last play together we have also worked on three Jacobean plays and two of Shakespeare's late plays.
Ending by working on comedies seems fitting.
So shall I live, supposing thou art true, Like a deceived husband; so love's face May still seem love to me, though altered new; Thy looks with me, thy heart in other place: For there can live no hatred in thine eye, Therefore in that I cannot know thy change. In many's looks, the false heart's history Is writ in moods, and frowns, and wrinkles strange. But heaven in thy creation did decree That in thy face sweet love should ever dwell; Whate'er thy thoughts, or thy heart's workings be, Thy looks should nothing thence, but sweetness tell. How like Eve's apple doth thy beauty grow, If thy sweet virtue answer not thy show.