Being Cultured

Yesterday (or two days ago technically, I guess--in any case, on Thursday), I had my first Modern British Drama class. It's a really incredible class, because it is only modern in the sense that it is what's on the British stage now. aka We watch plays that are popular, then talk about them. Amazing. And it's really different from any class I've ever taken, because we talk about performance and dramatic choices and the relative importance of the book versus other elements of staging. And I even get credit for the English major for it.

After class yesterday, we had a potluck dinner in the flat next door! It was utterly adorable. My flat (I keep wanting to call it a suite, but we're not at Yale anymore) contributed whole wheat pasta, olive oil, tomato sauce, and grated cheese. Next door made goat cheese, tomatoes, and crackers, and also buttered mushrooms and peas. And the boys brought a baguette and salad and mulled wine, which we heated on the stove top, though this tasted like a mix of snapple, cider, and nail polish remover. All in all, it was a very successful dinner; will be repeated.

Below we have some cooking pictures:

The magnificent spread. It looked cooler in real life. That covered bowl houses the pasta that was my contribution. Hell yeah I'm proud.




Laura and me on our first day of cooking. Pre-discovering the kitchen fan. If the room looks smoky, that's because it is.


Then we all went to the UCL pub, where 1.50 pound shots sounded cheap for about a half a second before we left. Finally we got to student night at some club called the Rocket? I think, where they were really cross (that’s right, cross) about proper ID. My friend Sophie who forgot hers actually had to prove that her keys matched up to her roommate’s in order to establish that she was a student. Intense.

Before this potluck, however, Laura, Tanya, and I went to the Tate Modern art museum. It was amazing. One exhibit was just a huge crack in the floor called Shibboleth, which means a word or custom that divides people. Some of my favorites were Spitz, by Bernard Frize, which is just these bold colors over crayon, where the colors also blend into each other like a snail shell. Really beautiful, but google images doesn't do it justice, unfortunately. I also loved Bilingual by Juan Usle, which was hung directly across from Spitz and therefore made me adore the room. Once again, the internet fails me here.

This one is Scylla, by Ithell Colguhoun, after the sea monster who attacks the boat between the rocks in the Odyssey...but...


It was inspired by what the artist sees when in the tub! It's described as a "pictoral pun!" (See the knees and--ahem--"coral"?) I find this magnificent.

And then today was an uber-theatrical day. Woke up at noon, then went immediately to the Almeida Theatre for a master class with Sam West, who is apparently some big British actor. It was so interesting; he gave notes on student performances, and it was amazing to see the interpretation entirely transformed by just a few suggestions. And he really followed the text for clues to character, going so far as to note commas and periods and other such punctuation as indicative of how a character thinks and therefore what he/she is, which is interesting from a writer-ly perspective.

Immediately following that from 2-4:15, we went to the National Theatre and heard the director of Much Ado About Nothing speak at 6. Not oh so enlightening. Then we saw Much Ado About Nothing (and by we I mean my class and professor, which is 9 people), and it was wonderful! Most interesting and accessible interpretation of Shakespeare I've ever seen. Very funny, too--there was a pool onstage and fun to be had.

I got back to the flat at 11:30, so literally spent all day at the theatre. Feeling cultural. This is quite a boring post. How shall I spice it up? A picture of me! I know not why I look so unhappy, but I think I am unintentionally adopting my sister's "I am so disgusted with the world" face; and what with Rent closing on Broadway in a few months (I KNOW!) we have been kindred spirits as of late.





And here are the other people in my program, minus Kate and Laura, at the Hope pub near my flat. It closed at 11 and kicked us out, but not before we got some rockin' good cider.



Also, some tantalizing pictures of my flat:




For more on the flat, see my video on facebook in which I give a tour.


And lastly, I feel I must share the ridiculousness of where the boys live. It truly is some Sultan's chamber:



Knickers and Rubbish,
Courtney

P.S. I just learned that you can click on these pictures to make them larger.
P.P.S. Word of the day: rubbish bin = trash can.