...some music?...
I graduated from University of Hawaii in 2012, the following is the synopsis of my experience with the department and theatre overall.
I transferred to UH Manoa in 2008 from San Francisco. I was wholly unimpressed by SFSU and their theatre department, and I recall looking at UHM for theatre. Their work with Asian theatre intrigued me and their work was unique.
Since my first semester at the department, I have grown as a person and as a student.
The semesters of Theatre History we are required to take are very informative. Learning everything from Randai to Faust is a very interesting experience. The way early stage sets were made to class participation of reading scripts. The professors at the department all have their styles and teaching methods. I enjoyed most others did not seem to, their wealth of passion and knowledge affecting me.
Through my different classes, I know much more than Western Theatre. I know classical European, Chinese, Japanese, Indonesian even. Through my unique experiences I do know many things from ancient Asian puppetry to the difficulty of Brechtian acting.
Theatre is an expression, it is both , lovely and difficult in this way. Cross cultures, continents, time, and age groups, we are bound together.
Other classes, like my directing class, play writing, allowed me to tap into my own creative self. Using ideas from absurdity to realism to modernism. I enjoyed my freedom of choices to dress the cast in all white and have them feed marshmallows to one another. I enjoyed writing plays about maternal abandonment and a musical about trying to grow marijuana. The scenic construction class, I made a miniature of a show I have always liked, Marisol, set in a garbage dump echoing the collapse of society the play is set in. The musical comedy class, which like all my acting classes culminated in a semester show, had me singing on stage in a NY accent.
I took a Chinese Theatre class one semester, with the professor speaking in lots of Chinese and not writing or explaining a lot of words. This was difficult , but I grew. The final project I made was not an essay as most students did, but a Chinese puppet show, complete with miniature set, puppets, script, and actors. As with my other classes, I opted to create something, not just words, but theatre itself.
The “muscle” side of theatre, the stage creation, sound, lighting, props, costuming…all these classes emphasized even more how much love, work, and heart goes into each production made. That the cumulation of a show is something that a lot of blood sweat and tears made happen and being the face of all that work is a big honor.
In the Randai training class and the Kabuki voice/movement class, I worked my tail off. It was grueling, demanding, and rigorous in its own specific cultural context. The kind of discipline and manner you must adhere to that Western actors are not used to. Lots of tough physical conditioning. I was in the Kabuki show mainly as a dancer, the first dancer, a role I could have never foreseen for myself. I sustained a foot injury, and danced on it anyway like a real dancer in pain for my art.
In one show, I had a partial Hawaiian accent, something that took time and hours of stalking of innocent locals to acquire. The Puppetry class and the Youth Theatre classes were both alive and energized, with the innocence of theatre intended for children. This type of theatre allows you to tap into the wonder and play that we often forget as adults.
Being an actor in a larger show is wonderful , exciting, harrowing, and trying. Actors are tempermental , clique driven, and much like children, often cruel. Professionalism is a must. Dedication and pushing against yourself is a must. In my larger shows here at the university, I often felt ostracized, an outlier, but there is a valuable lesson in that shows are about it art itself, and your one’s love and dedication to that must be your fuel.
A while ago, someone asked me, “Why theatre? Why acting?”
And I answered like I have for years, since that first step into the stage light:
“Because when I step onto the stage, the stage lights are like warm sunlight on my face. I feel a tangible connection with everyone, bearing the most vulnerable parts of myself to fellow humans. It’s a part of my own soul.”
I transferred to UH Manoa in 2008 from San Francisco. I was wholly unimpressed by SFSU and their theatre department, and I recall looking at UHM for theatre. Their work with Asian theatre intrigued me and their work was unique.
Since my first semester at the department, I have grown as a person and as a student.
The semesters of Theatre History we are required to take are very informative. Learning everything from Randai to Faust is a very interesting experience. The way early stage sets were made to class participation of reading scripts. The professors at the department all have their styles and teaching methods. I enjoyed most others did not seem to, their wealth of passion and knowledge affecting me.
Through my different classes, I know much more than Western Theatre. I know classical European, Chinese, Japanese, Indonesian even. Through my unique experiences I do know many things from ancient Asian puppetry to the difficulty of Brechtian acting.
Theatre is an expression, it is both , lovely and difficult in this way. Cross cultures, continents, time, and age groups, we are bound together.
Other classes, like my directing class, play writing, allowed me to tap into my own creative self. Using ideas from absurdity to realism to modernism. I enjoyed my freedom of choices to dress the cast in all white and have them feed marshmallows to one another. I enjoyed writing plays about maternal abandonment and a musical about trying to grow marijuana. The scenic construction class, I made a miniature of a show I have always liked, Marisol, set in a garbage dump echoing the collapse of society the play is set in. The musical comedy class, which like all my acting classes culminated in a semester show, had me singing on stage in a NY accent.
I took a Chinese Theatre class one semester, with the professor speaking in lots of Chinese and not writing or explaining a lot of words. This was difficult , but I grew. The final project I made was not an essay as most students did, but a Chinese puppet show, complete with miniature set, puppets, script, and actors. As with my other classes, I opted to create something, not just words, but theatre itself.
The “muscle” side of theatre, the stage creation, sound, lighting, props, costuming…all these classes emphasized even more how much love, work, and heart goes into each production made. That the cumulation of a show is something that a lot of blood sweat and tears made happen and being the face of all that work is a big honor.
In the Randai training class and the Kabuki voice/movement class, I worked my tail off. It was grueling, demanding, and rigorous in its own specific cultural context. The kind of discipline and manner you must adhere to that Western actors are not used to. Lots of tough physical conditioning. I was in the Kabuki show mainly as a dancer, the first dancer, a role I could have never foreseen for myself. I sustained a foot injury, and danced on it anyway like a real dancer in pain for my art.
In one show, I had a partial Hawaiian accent, something that took time and hours of stalking of innocent locals to acquire. The Puppetry class and the Youth Theatre classes were both alive and energized, with the innocence of theatre intended for children. This type of theatre allows you to tap into the wonder and play that we often forget as adults.
Being an actor in a larger show is wonderful , exciting, harrowing, and trying. Actors are tempermental , clique driven, and much like children, often cruel. Professionalism is a must. Dedication and pushing against yourself is a must. In my larger shows here at the university, I often felt ostracized, an outlier, but there is a valuable lesson in that shows are about it art itself, and your one’s love and dedication to that must be your fuel.
A while ago, someone asked me, “Why theatre? Why acting?”
And I answered like I have for years, since that first step into the stage light:
“Because when I step onto the stage, the stage lights are like warm sunlight on my face. I feel a tangible connection with everyone, bearing the most vulnerable parts of myself to fellow humans. It’s a part of my own soul.”