There have been a few tales to share during the Tauranga Arts Fest, that I could not possibly divulge at the time for fear of the repercussions. Then I decided I'd sneak them in right at the end in the form of an 'Out takes' blog.
On the opening evening, I discovered a toothpaste stain on my right breast. It would've been ok, but the dress was navy. Why does toothpaste always drop on dark coloured clothing while you're wearing it and why does it have to resemble seagull crap? I think toothpaste is secretly in cahoots with dropping toast on the buttered side down and poppy seed hiding in between front two teeth all day.
From the file of things that you don't really want to discover about your own physical appearance.... Whilst applying mascara, I found out that I have one nostril twice the size of the other. It's like one side greedily sucked the life out of the other. I'm not sure who I'm going to blame for this genetic malfunction, but I am guessing that having an over zealous nostril has enhanced my snorting while laughing capabilities.
My high school days came back to haunt me with at least one teacher at what felt like every show. I'm not sure whether the universe is trying to grade me on my life, or whether this is an evil reminder that I left school 12 years ago.
There was the guitarist who rocked back and forth while rhythmically strumming. From side on, he looked like he was making love to his instrument. Once I realised I wondered if all muso's clearly loved their performance.
I was sitting next to a woman during a play one evening. As she opened her water bottle, it spouted like a whale onto her and her friend. I bit my tongue. It's always funny when it happens to someone else.
I've been in the presence of some interesting inhalers. There have been the deep heavy breathers that sound like they are about to pounce upon you in a horror film, the nasally breathers who sound like they are awake snoring and a mutterer who had his own running review under his breath. And not to forget the laughter, anything from cackles to snorters, and hooters to honkers (including my own over-sized laughter amid the obvious quietness).
I dropped my pen during a show at Baycourt and lost it. You wouldn't normally think this was a big deal until I had to ferret around and find its replacement. Flashing pen with dangly bits gifted to me in a Korean restaurant in Hong Kong. Not the most secretive writing utensil will trying to scribe in a dark theatre.
My most favourite outfit witnessed was a grandma wearing a black sparkly number finished off with silver sequined sneakers. That woman is my elderly style icon.
There was the great flying food spectacle, as a tray of fresh fruit met its demise on the floor. I did have much empathy for that poor girl serving it. When I was a waitress, I went to serve a customer only to have their freshly battered fish fly off the plate right past the agape mouths and onto the floor.
And finally early on into the Arts Fest, I left a the Palace with beautiful music playing in my mind until I walked past a bar with karaoke being thrust upon anyone in earshot. I looked in to see a larger woman singing... Hmmm, it really was over.
Saturday, 29 October 2011
Day 11 - Dame Alison Holst & the end...
All good things must come to an end - vacations, Outrageous Fortune, that dress you ruined with an alcoholic stain down the front from a great night out..... And now the Tauranga Arts Festival.
My final hurrah was taking mum to listen to Dame Alison Holst's lifetime journey of sharing her home cookery expertise. Only a pinch of males were present for this recipe of life, as the audience were appreciative female fans who had grown up to Mrs Holst's motherly cooking advice. I now have a spot in my heart for 'fondness of Alison Holst'.
I felt a little sadness upon leaving the Palace for the last time. I had created so many memories, opened my mind to so many new great pieces of theatre and music and sat in many different positions. In 11 days I have been to 25 shows whilst keeping up my day job.
I'd like to thank the crew at the Tauranga Arts Fest for this immensely rewarding opportunity. Greg the director for taking a risk by presenting me with an 'Access All Areas' pass (which I restrained myself from using it to its full capabilities) and allowing my blogging skills to grow. Katherine for encouraging me with a smile and kind words of my 'blog baby'. Jo for lending her ear when we were clearly both stuffed. Becks for lending me her 'bubble' car and making me feel most welcome at the Pacific Crystal Palace. Peter at the Palace who didn't bat an eyelid when I accidentally introduced him to my colleague as John, for greeting me everyday with "How's my favourite blogger?". All the other front of house staff for their daily smiles. My friends, family and colleagues for their support. And you, the reader for taking the time to cast your eyes over my account of the Tauranga Arts Fest 2011.
My final hurrah was taking mum to listen to Dame Alison Holst's lifetime journey of sharing her home cookery expertise. Only a pinch of males were present for this recipe of life, as the audience were appreciative female fans who had grown up to Mrs Holst's motherly cooking advice. I now have a spot in my heart for 'fondness of Alison Holst'.
I felt a little sadness upon leaving the Palace for the last time. I had created so many memories, opened my mind to so many new great pieces of theatre and music and sat in many different positions. In 11 days I have been to 25 shows whilst keeping up my day job.
I'd like to thank the crew at the Tauranga Arts Fest for this immensely rewarding opportunity. Greg the director for taking a risk by presenting me with an 'Access All Areas' pass (which I restrained myself from using it to its full capabilities) and allowing my blogging skills to grow. Katherine for encouraging me with a smile and kind words of my 'blog baby'. Jo for lending her ear when we were clearly both stuffed. Becks for lending me her 'bubble' car and making me feel most welcome at the Pacific Crystal Palace. Peter at the Palace who didn't bat an eyelid when I accidentally introduced him to my colleague as John, for greeting me everyday with "How's my favourite blogger?". All the other front of house staff for their daily smiles. My friends, family and colleagues for their support. And you, the reader for taking the time to cast your eyes over my account of the Tauranga Arts Fest 2011.
Day 10 - Ngai Tahu 32, Tahuna Breaks & The Hotel
I'd regained some much anticipated energy points with a 90 minute massage followed by an afternoon of napping. I awoke in time to prepare for my last evening at the Tauranga Arts Fest and was stoked on my first attempt to give myself a perfectly formed French Roll hairstyle.
I arrived at Baycourt Theatre in time to be seated with two of my old high school teachers. Goosebumps swept across my body as the opening scene of Ngai Tahu captured my heart. It was as though I knew a beautiful thing was unravelling before my eyes. Fluid movements of the dancers reflected the rippling of water and it's life source... powerfully hypnotic. The costumes were perfectly paired in this darkly delicate performance. With instant connection, I could feel my soul being cleansed. This experience was indeed deeply moving and it was sad to see that more hadn't witnessed this masterpiece.
Next stop was Tahuna Breaks back down at the Palace. It was refreshing to be at a show that had an audience from my age bracket. The lead singer began with a solo opening performance. It was a nice taster before the rest of the band joined to pull out some dancing tunes with hints of reggae and tones of funk. I had to leave as the second set began and my glass of wine emptied. I had to skip off one last time.
The Sebel foyer was a hubbub of chatter in anticipation for the play The Hotel. We were escorted upstairs to a room and sat around the edges like outcast goldfish in a bowl. How appropriate was it that my last evening fling ended in a hotel room. This follow on from The Salon was more edgier, like the lesbian pash on Coro the other night, with at least one character convincingly like someone you would actually know. It opened up an undercover world of what goes on behind those thin walls. I don't think I will ever enter a hotel room without thinking about what stories it could tell.
Another three down and one more day to go!
I arrived at Baycourt Theatre in time to be seated with two of my old high school teachers. Goosebumps swept across my body as the opening scene of Ngai Tahu captured my heart. It was as though I knew a beautiful thing was unravelling before my eyes. Fluid movements of the dancers reflected the rippling of water and it's life source... powerfully hypnotic. The costumes were perfectly paired in this darkly delicate performance. With instant connection, I could feel my soul being cleansed. This experience was indeed deeply moving and it was sad to see that more hadn't witnessed this masterpiece.
Next stop was Tahuna Breaks back down at the Palace. It was refreshing to be at a show that had an audience from my age bracket. The lead singer began with a solo opening performance. It was a nice taster before the rest of the band joined to pull out some dancing tunes with hints of reggae and tones of funk. I had to leave as the second set began and my glass of wine emptied. I had to skip off one last time.
The Sebel foyer was a hubbub of chatter in anticipation for the play The Hotel. We were escorted upstairs to a room and sat around the edges like outcast goldfish in a bowl. How appropriate was it that my last evening fling ended in a hotel room. This follow on from The Salon was more edgier, like the lesbian pash on Coro the other night, with at least one character convincingly like someone you would actually know. It opened up an undercover world of what goes on behind those thin walls. I don't think I will ever enter a hotel room without thinking about what stories it could tell.
Another three down and one more day to go!
Friday, 28 October 2011
Day 9 - Tim Balme & Fiona Samuels, The Adventures of Alvin Sputnik: Deep Sea Explorer , The Sad Lament of Pecos Bill on the Eve of Killing His Wife and The Storehouse
On the ninth day I slept in until the late hour of 7am. Apparently there's a gas crisis going on. I'm not up to date with the latest news, my world right now is the Tauranga Arts Fest. Im living and breathing it. I caught a glimpse of myself in a reflection and got a fright. My current look is haggard and my eyeballs are over compensating by fighting back the lids. Thank goodness for Loreal and associates.
I'm also really embracing the festival and having a feastival. As time will not permit gym workouts and exercise, I take that as a cue to eat crap. Friday's attempt to extract some energy included a dietary input of 2 coffees, 1 coke, 2 cake slices, a Moro and a vitamin B supplement.
At lunchtime Carey and I have an outing to a script writing chat from Tim Balme and Fiona Samuels with Jeff Lealand from the University of Waikato. As creative writers we found this quite interesting and beneficial and went back to work full of baking and satisfied.
I changed for Alvin Sputnik and headed up to Baycourt. It was with 5 minutes to go that the lightbulb switched on after talking to one of the Arts Fest crew, Becks. I was in the wrong location. Becks kindly leant me her car. I jumped into the 'bubble,' took on a superhero persona and zipped across town.
When I arrived, I slipped into the wrong side of the dark theatre and sat down. The scene I fell into tugged at my heartstrings. I endeavored not to cry. But then humour jumped aboard as adults and children laughed alike at the storyline and clever puppetry that was masterfully bought to life. I asked the sole actor afterwards what his intentions were with the storyline and whether I was on the same wavelength. He gave a completely different account. It's amazing how your personal experiences can you lead you to view the world in a completely different light. Like if five people were given the same ingredients and would end up cooking different dishes.
I had time to spare in between shows and spent the interim gnawing on a chicken drumstick covered in nine secret herbs and spices. I say nine because salt and pepper are clearly not the world's biggest secret.
I arrived at the Pacific Crystal Palace to see a campfire, hay bales and the Halloween version of The Village People. The Sad Lament of Pecos Bill began with the familiar twang of Western music and a rising deceased bride. The bride possessed an appropriately haunting yet ethereal voice and Bill had captured the whiny essence of a country cowboy.
The band was perfectly in tune to the story. From the tempo that encourages cow cockies to imbibe, to the replication of desert fauna, to the guitar sounding like a heat wave shimmering on a dusty horizon. I sat in the same booth as the bride's proud parents relishing in the performance.
Once the set was quickly packed up, a dance floor was made for the next act - The Storehouse. The Pecos Bill band reemerged and began to play bluesy roots music. The audience began to let loose and trickle onto the dance floor one at a time. However caution was thrown to the wind as soon as a bit of 'Dutch courage' kicked in. At that point I realized that at no matter what age, you still kinda act the same when you're drunk. This was my moment to exit and go home to rest my weary head.
The Adventures of Alvin Sputnik is on at 1pm Saturday 29th and Sunday 30th October at The Repertory Theatre (not Baycourt).
I'm also really embracing the festival and having a feastival. As time will not permit gym workouts and exercise, I take that as a cue to eat crap. Friday's attempt to extract some energy included a dietary input of 2 coffees, 1 coke, 2 cake slices, a Moro and a vitamin B supplement.
At lunchtime Carey and I have an outing to a script writing chat from Tim Balme and Fiona Samuels with Jeff Lealand from the University of Waikato. As creative writers we found this quite interesting and beneficial and went back to work full of baking and satisfied.
I changed for Alvin Sputnik and headed up to Baycourt. It was with 5 minutes to go that the lightbulb switched on after talking to one of the Arts Fest crew, Becks. I was in the wrong location. Becks kindly leant me her car. I jumped into the 'bubble,' took on a superhero persona and zipped across town.
When I arrived, I slipped into the wrong side of the dark theatre and sat down. The scene I fell into tugged at my heartstrings. I endeavored not to cry. But then humour jumped aboard as adults and children laughed alike at the storyline and clever puppetry that was masterfully bought to life. I asked the sole actor afterwards what his intentions were with the storyline and whether I was on the same wavelength. He gave a completely different account. It's amazing how your personal experiences can you lead you to view the world in a completely different light. Like if five people were given the same ingredients and would end up cooking different dishes.
I had time to spare in between shows and spent the interim gnawing on a chicken drumstick covered in nine secret herbs and spices. I say nine because salt and pepper are clearly not the world's biggest secret.
I arrived at the Pacific Crystal Palace to see a campfire, hay bales and the Halloween version of The Village People. The Sad Lament of Pecos Bill began with the familiar twang of Western music and a rising deceased bride. The bride possessed an appropriately haunting yet ethereal voice and Bill had captured the whiny essence of a country cowboy.
The band was perfectly in tune to the story. From the tempo that encourages cow cockies to imbibe, to the replication of desert fauna, to the guitar sounding like a heat wave shimmering on a dusty horizon. I sat in the same booth as the bride's proud parents relishing in the performance.
Once the set was quickly packed up, a dance floor was made for the next act - The Storehouse. The Pecos Bill band reemerged and began to play bluesy roots music. The audience began to let loose and trickle onto the dance floor one at a time. However caution was thrown to the wind as soon as a bit of 'Dutch courage' kicked in. At that point I realized that at no matter what age, you still kinda act the same when you're drunk. This was my moment to exit and go home to rest my weary head.
The Adventures of Alvin Sputnik is on at 1pm Saturday 29th and Sunday 30th October at The Repertory Theatre (not Baycourt).
Thursday, 27 October 2011
Day 8 - On the Upside Down of the World & Pauline Scanlon
On the eighth day my handbag was a veritable shit storm of tickets, gum wrappers, leaky lip gloss, strewn unused tissues that had jumped out of their packet and my iPad. My bedroom was a cacophony of clothes, shoes and make-up (there was a least a space for me to nestle into at night). I'd eaten cereal and had a cup of coffee for dinner. I was in my own upside down world upon preparing for 'On The Upside Down of the World'.
Jolene and I walked into a newly transformed Baycourt theatre to a set of ladders in sand. The actress walked on stage wearing a costume complimenting the rigid structures and began the 80 minute show; an account of immigrating to Aotearoa in the 1800's. A thought provoking and stellar performance that struck a chord with me, somewhat a little close to home. It has been the only piece of theatre that I have ever become emotionally entangled with as I quickly wiped away a tear to prevent more from falling. I could not leave looking like I had auditioned for A Clockwork Orange.
Straight afterwards we left for the Pacific Crystal Palace to see Pauline Scanlon and arrived upon the opening duet with Pauline and the 'Irish version of George Clooney'. There's nothing like an Irish accent to make a girl weak. I've tried replicating it many a time, but always end up sounding like a pirate.
Her voice was like delicate droplets caressing a pool of water. And once the whole quartet of vocalist, acoustic, double bass and accordion were in collaboration, I pictured myself amid lush green rolling countryside with the music adding to the scenery. There were of course the festive Irish beats that you could sink a Guinness or two, in a happy pub and have the weight of the world cast aside from your shoulders. Every song told an important tale. This was definitely better than any Irish pub CDs I had heard.
Like a little leprechaun, I escaped at intermission. I really wanted to stay on, but I needed to tuck into the corner of the bed I have ready for sleeping. Perhaps I should set one up in the Palace?
Pauline Scanlon is also performing at The Landing, Katikati on Friday 28th.
Jolene and I walked into a newly transformed Baycourt theatre to a set of ladders in sand. The actress walked on stage wearing a costume complimenting the rigid structures and began the 80 minute show; an account of immigrating to Aotearoa in the 1800's. A thought provoking and stellar performance that struck a chord with me, somewhat a little close to home. It has been the only piece of theatre that I have ever become emotionally entangled with as I quickly wiped away a tear to prevent more from falling. I could not leave looking like I had auditioned for A Clockwork Orange.
Straight afterwards we left for the Pacific Crystal Palace to see Pauline Scanlon and arrived upon the opening duet with Pauline and the 'Irish version of George Clooney'. There's nothing like an Irish accent to make a girl weak. I've tried replicating it many a time, but always end up sounding like a pirate.
Her voice was like delicate droplets caressing a pool of water. And once the whole quartet of vocalist, acoustic, double bass and accordion were in collaboration, I pictured myself amid lush green rolling countryside with the music adding to the scenery. There were of course the festive Irish beats that you could sink a Guinness or two, in a happy pub and have the weight of the world cast aside from your shoulders. Every song told an important tale. This was definitely better than any Irish pub CDs I had heard.
Like a little leprechaun, I escaped at intermission. I really wanted to stay on, but I needed to tuck into the corner of the bed I have ready for sleeping. Perhaps I should set one up in the Palace?
Pauline Scanlon is also performing at The Landing, Katikati on Friday 28th.
Wednesday, 26 October 2011
Day 7 - 2 Dimensional Life of Her and The Bellbirds
Day 7 - 2 Dimensional Life of Her & The Bellbirds
In the morning I pulled out two potential outfits to wear and two pairs of shoes to match. It was indecisive Wednesday and I really couldn't face making a definitive decision for that evening's wear. Come the end of the day, I had chosen 'funeral dress'. A brave selection as I had only ever worn this to 4 funerals, in 10 months. I thought it was about time it came out on a more jovial occasion.
Outfit: Long black dress
Shoes: Favourite pair purchased on last Hong Kong trip - cream peep toes with black ribbon trim (which unfortunately the heels have wedged in a grate and are sadly damaged but still glamorous - like Marilyn Munroe)
My 'plus one' had bailed. My plus one plus one plus one plus one had also bailed. I went to the opening evening of '2 Dimensional Life of Her' in the amazing company of myself. It was dark when the audience crept in (darkness instantly makes one quiet) and the set looked like a child care centre's only toy source was in the form of an industrial roll of paper. It was strewn everywhere and looked like a lot of fun to prepare. I must buy one of those paper rolls for when I'm really pissed off. Ripping it would do wonders for the soul.
The theatre piece was like one of those ultra-intelligent kids at school. A bit edgy with many dimensions and a shot of clever wit at the end that you cannot retort.
I had a bit of a break in between shows and treated myself to my favourite Italian restaurant. I accidentally ordered dessert and I really shouldn't have had that glass of delicious Pinot Gris. I was ready to slip into bed and snug up, but I had to conjure every extra ounce of energy for the Bellbirds concert at the Pacific Crystal Palace.
I arrived early and secured a comfy booth for my pregnant colleague and I. Carey was the biggest Don McGlashan fan and I figured she should see this in complete booth comfort. After locating each other she sat down, but decided that this wasn't the best spot. So we moved to the second row from the front behind my old social studies teacher. It was off to the side and she decided that she needed to be centralized to make the most of the sound. I waited while she found the best spot available and after switching seats so she could hear me out of her good ear, we were ready. I figured it was best not to mess with the pregnant Don McGlashan fan.
The group entered and began their set. Carey cradled her baby and felt its appreciation. It was the perfect kind of music to make me feel alive, yet tune out to. Carey said "It's like Fly My Pretties for older people." I completely agreed as I realized that music is timeless and at no matter what age, you can still appreciate the beauty of it.
Each member of the quartet had their own voice as they took turns to share their vocal talents. It's amazing to think that although we all speak, we do not all posses the ability to sing (that people would want to listen to anyway).
The Bellbirds had rocked me into a state of relaxation and I left my smiling colleague at intermission to go home and rest. Her unborn child 'Apple Pip' had already kicked off its appreciation for great New Zealand music.
2 Dimensional Life of Her is on at the Baycourt Exhibition Space is on Thursday 27th and Friday 28th, with shows at 1 & 6pm.
In the morning I pulled out two potential outfits to wear and two pairs of shoes to match. It was indecisive Wednesday and I really couldn't face making a definitive decision for that evening's wear. Come the end of the day, I had chosen 'funeral dress'. A brave selection as I had only ever worn this to 4 funerals, in 10 months. I thought it was about time it came out on a more jovial occasion.
Outfit: Long black dress
Shoes: Favourite pair purchased on last Hong Kong trip - cream peep toes with black ribbon trim (which unfortunately the heels have wedged in a grate and are sadly damaged but still glamorous - like Marilyn Munroe)
My 'plus one' had bailed. My plus one plus one plus one plus one had also bailed. I went to the opening evening of '2 Dimensional Life of Her' in the amazing company of myself. It was dark when the audience crept in (darkness instantly makes one quiet) and the set looked like a child care centre's only toy source was in the form of an industrial roll of paper. It was strewn everywhere and looked like a lot of fun to prepare. I must buy one of those paper rolls for when I'm really pissed off. Ripping it would do wonders for the soul.
The theatre piece was like one of those ultra-intelligent kids at school. A bit edgy with many dimensions and a shot of clever wit at the end that you cannot retort.
I had a bit of a break in between shows and treated myself to my favourite Italian restaurant. I accidentally ordered dessert and I really shouldn't have had that glass of delicious Pinot Gris. I was ready to slip into bed and snug up, but I had to conjure every extra ounce of energy for the Bellbirds concert at the Pacific Crystal Palace.
I arrived early and secured a comfy booth for my pregnant colleague and I. Carey was the biggest Don McGlashan fan and I figured she should see this in complete booth comfort. After locating each other she sat down, but decided that this wasn't the best spot. So we moved to the second row from the front behind my old social studies teacher. It was off to the side and she decided that she needed to be centralized to make the most of the sound. I waited while she found the best spot available and after switching seats so she could hear me out of her good ear, we were ready. I figured it was best not to mess with the pregnant Don McGlashan fan.
The group entered and began their set. Carey cradled her baby and felt its appreciation. It was the perfect kind of music to make me feel alive, yet tune out to. Carey said "It's like Fly My Pretties for older people." I completely agreed as I realized that music is timeless and at no matter what age, you can still appreciate the beauty of it.
Each member of the quartet had their own voice as they took turns to share their vocal talents. It's amazing to think that although we all speak, we do not all posses the ability to sing (that people would want to listen to anyway).
The Bellbirds had rocked me into a state of relaxation and I left my smiling colleague at intermission to go home and rest. Her unborn child 'Apple Pip' had already kicked off its appreciation for great New Zealand music.
2 Dimensional Life of Her is on at the Baycourt Exhibition Space is on Thursday 27th and Friday 28th, with shows at 1 & 6pm.
Tuesday, 25 October 2011
Day 6 – Tic Tic
It’s half-way through the Tauranga Arts Fest and I am considering methods of intravenous caffeine input. I have a new found respect for people with kids; all I’m doing is going to a bunch of amazing shows in an 11 day time frame.
Tuesday was a one show special – Tic Tic at my second home, the Pacific Crystal Palace
Paul Barrett opened with a piano piece and throughout the show used this as a tool for story telling about growing up with unclassified Tourette’s and being gay. It struck a chord with me because sometimes I would love to just start singing about everyday life as it happens. If I was a busker, I’d probably put a kitty in the hat to begin with so that the innocent listener could take a coin or two away for putting up with my inaudible and tone-deaf melodies.
Moments of laughter cropped up in pockets from the audience. I even heard Mum snort at one stage. Hmmm… there are some things you can’t help but inherit. Paul’s impersonations of people that had affected his life were truly memorable. As the laughter subsided, you realise that there is truth jest and he had taken this all in his stride - A true testament to his character.
As the applause waned and the lights came on, Mum said “That was different.”
I agreed. ‘Different’ is good and I was enlightened by the experience.
The final Tic Tic show is on tonight (Wednesday 26th) at Te Puke Repertory Theatre.
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