The lost art of acting

There are flashes of actors that are memorable, the moments that you remember about years after you watched the movie. Those moments are the most invaluable, and how do we create that? 

I had never seen it on West End. I saw it once in Las Vegas in the Phantom when he was enacting in the Phantom of the Opera. I saw flashes of it on some films made in Hollywood. The rest of the plays I had watched? They are technically good but I don’t recall the actor. But shouldn’t each show leave such an impact to the viewer that they would remember the actors that brought life to it? 

Over the years the brilliance of actors became less visible as “high concept” movies took precedence. For the new shows on broadway, the emphasis is on theatrical costumes and flashy stage props. Why, is it that in this modern day of technology we have simply lost the art of theater? 

I reminiscence the days I saw real acting, real theater and real artists on stage. But soon this art form will be lost to technology, unless we make an effort to learn and execute it without the need of flashy props or make up to conceal what the actor truly desires to bring life to. 

An actor fuses body movement and voice, a dancer and vocalist in one. The highest art form using the human body purely as his instrument. No need for any externalities. An actor can perform nude in a one man play and yet be captivating to his audience. Yet, day by day I see countless of actors do harmful things to their bodies and it hurts me to see them smoke or drink. 

Shakespeare was an actor before he became a playwright. He trained himself write from an actors point of view in his plays. The training of being an actor is probably one of the toughest conditioning a human can ever subject himself to as an artist and athlete. 

The rarity of this art form, and the almost extinction of it, has lead me on a timeless quest to rediscover this truth and experiment endlessly on myself to elevate my art to the next level. 

The Dark Lady of My Dreams

I see my destiny

the dark lady of my dreams

she fades in and out

whispers to my ear

I am a woman of masquerades 

une danseur actrice directrice 

let me take over you 

the lights go out

I remember myself no more

Je vois mon destin

la dame noire de mes rêves

elle se fane dans et hors

murmure à mon oreille

Je suis une femme de mascarades

une danseur actrice réalisateur

laisse moi t’occuper de toi

Les lumières s’éteignent

Je me souviens plus de moi

 

Dancing with the wind

I haven’t been able to watch or read a movie, play or story about love for the past year without tearing, even if the ending is good or bad.

So now, when I study a play, I cut out a scene, a fragment, so I don’t have to deal with the ending, so I don’t have to feel emotions. So I can live one more day, dancing with the wind.

I belong to the theater

I dream about it every night. I don’t know but sometimes the undercurrent of dreams takes over reality and I just have to respond to it and create this magnificence so I could lay it to rest.

Soul Song

A dancer communicates the music through his movements by connecting to his soul song. He has a unique perspective on the dance and although it might be choreographed it is essentially improvising while on stage. No two dances are the same.

I want to be immortal

To create a masterpiece for my short film. My magnum opus consolidation of my YouTube channel for the past five years. The merging of two identities in one. Mastery. Transcendence. They call it. I want to be immortal.

The queen of masquerades

I hate what I see in the mirror
Cuz it’s her staring back at me
I don’t see me, no, I don’t see me
It’s she that I see, that I want to be

She is, the dark lady of my dreams
The queen of masquerades
Who blazes the skies apart
In her quest for immortality

New York, I am coming for you.

A mega cloud artificial intelligence

I am contemplating doing a solo trip to Tokyo to stay in a capsule hotel, it’s been on my bucket list. I would sometimes imagine while sleeping on my bed at night how does it feel to sleep in an enclosed pod. How do people live in such tiny spaces? Will humans be living in pods and be hooked up to a computer like the matrix? Will we be able to differentiate the real world and the AI world? Or is reality itself blurring with Facebook and unlimited live video streams?

Another bucket list is Rome. I wonder how was the human civilisation created and codified in language. How did they create an empire? What was the use of the forum and where was the libraries? What does it feel like to walk down the roads of Rome and be part of a democracy? What lead to the fall of the civilisation? What is the impact of their knowledge on our modern day civil codes?

Too many questions too little time, if only I could teleport from one time zone to the next and dip into the depth of the human consciousness and experience all the world as to offer in an instant by hooking myself to a mega cloud artificial intelligence.

To be with you

I asked Art what do I need to give to be together with him.

He asked for my mind.
He used a straw to suck out the air from my ears
as it transmuted into ink.
He asked me for my body.
He peeled my skin tenderly
and used it as a canvas.
He asked for my heart.
He dug out my veins from my ribcage,
and used my heart strings to sew the canvas on the frame.
He asked for my soul.
My soul left my body,
it spilled into dancing figurines on the canvas,
filling it with art.