No artist is pleased. There is no satisfaction at anytime.
There is only a queer, divine dissatisfaction,
a blessed unrest keeps us marching and makes us more alive than others.
-- Martha Graham to Agnes De Mille
Was || Will Be || Past Moments || Now || Notes

2002-01-09 - 12:26 a.m.

Rehearsal Vignette, and Sad, dit moi.

In Lear, we have two sisters, aged 10 and 12, who serve as Pages and lantern-bearers and various other miscellaneous characters. Tonight, during rehearsal, one of them, the elder, was sitting next to me. The director, giving direction, happened to call out "Oh Shit!".

I turned to our young Page and said "You're not supposed to hear those words."

She, with an air of defiance, said "What, to protect my virgin ears? I'm in seventh grade, you know."

Taken aback, I paused for a moment and said "Well, try to leave us adults our illusions, won't you?".

Even as it happened, I thought it was a terribly cute little vignette. But I realized after that I'm referring to myself as an adult. To a twelve year-old I must seem practically ancient.

Sad, dit moi.

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