the {splendour} only a beggar could imagine

For my last design project at Wimbledon College, we were given 'The Threepenny Opera' by Bertolt Brecht and allowed to have our way with it. Once of my first leaping points was this quote from the prologue:

"You are about to hear an opera for beggars.

Since this opera was conceived with the splendour only a beggar could imagine,

and since it had to be so cheap, even a beggar could afford it, it is called: The Threepenny Opera".

I set my version of Threepenny in Wilton's Music Hall in east London. It's the last remaining intact music hall in Europe and has a thoroughly and suitably bawdy history. I went along and tool thousands of photographs and literally fell silent when I was shown in. Allowed to roam in the semi-dark alone for 15 minutes, I took in the many textures - rough wood, crumbling gilt plaster, burnt and water damaged murals - and tried to imagine the feasting, drinking and lechery that must have taken place there 160 years ago.

This image - originally gleaned from dear Flroizelle - captured the heart of what I wanted to create in the hall. I imagined that a hoard of beggars moved into the theatre with their animals and heaped stolen goods, to find an abandoned costume closet (after all, i am doing a costume design degree). From there, they decide to put on a show, and mix and match all they find to put on the Threepenny Opera.

I was looking at old Victorian London - a massive construction and demolition site of the many 17th and 18th century buildings that once stood, ramshackle and imperfect to the Victorian eye.

Images found here, here and here.

Old mis-matched shoes and gloves, make-shift hats and torn stockings, and mud. Real mud - and lot's of it. A stable transformed into a wedding feast, attended by the glamorous filth of London's Soho. The overpowering stench of horses and chickens mingled with the finest foie gras from Fortnum & Masons, and the Duchess of Somerset's rosewood harpsichord sawn and remade into a crude bench for the happy, happy couple...

{twisted} stories

The past few days have been utterly packed. First there was the run-up to our performance, right down to the insane tweaking that occurs seconds before the audience enter. The following morning I trundled my way to Kings Cross St Pancras where I joined my fellow students and tutors for a whirlwind weekend in Paris.

But first, I must address the performance. Now, I'm not usually one to get excited about actually taking part in a show. Make stuff for it yes, be in it, NO. Well that was my first reaction, but this project managed to work its way into my heart, not to mention the fabulous group I worked with.

To give a little backround on the project, we worked with an outside practicing tutor on creating and performing a site-specific piece inspired by the space and the fairy-tales we chose as a platform. It was an intensive eight-week process that required a lot of editing and compromising skills, but I gained so much from it and I like to think our results were worth it all...

I'm afraid I don't have as many photos just yet as i'd like, but here are a couple of peeks into our piece and some of those of the rest of my class. I also want to say thank you to my Laurel of the fabulous blog A RoRo in London, who came in that afternoon and selflessly posed as an usher for us. Thank you x

A terrified Rapunzel/wife of Bluebeard hacks at her own mane of golden locks as an act of self-preservation.

This long corridor immediately caught our eye, and we decided to place each one of Bluebeard's past wives in front of one of the slim windows, each filled with relics he'd collected from each wife and enshrined. Each woman is tied at the throat by a continuous maroon ribbon that loops from their throats to the ceiling, before tangling in pools between them.

Another group's Rapunzel sits in her tower, streaky mascara and glazed gaze revealing her misery.
Perhaps she is not even aware of her glass prison within a prison? Eerie and beautiful in the way only a fairy tale can capture.

Here we follow another group's take on Bluebeard, as this charming girl in the blue dress leads us on a clue-ridden journey through the college; we see her being flattered by a charming photographer, who then proceeds to click away at us, the audience. Ghostly women line an avenue of black & white photographs of lost women, before she finds his studio (above). From there, she discovers the dark room, and the horror of a pile of discarded dead models backlit by the red lights. Eventually we are led outside where our girl in the blue dress is running for her life down the street, (not in an uncomical fashion).

And of course, the last group who also took to Bluebeard. They had a striking vintage theme, and this particular tableau caught my eye. Their final set was magnificently done, but my photos were somewhat limited to my enormous dismay!

I shall post some more details and some of my discoveries from my janut to La Jolie Paris!

eonnagata

Do let me introduce to you, the fascinating Charles Genevieve Louis Auguste Andre Timothee d'Eon de Beaumont, otherwise known to his friends as quite simply, the Chevalier d'Eon. Here he is below fighting a nice duel. No no, not the chappy with the well-defined buns of steel, but the strapping lady with the satisfying ability to brandish an epee!

I feel like most stories of transvestite knights involve a girl playing the role of man, so as to cross the constraints of womanhood and so on and so forth. But this dashing young man reversed this traditional set up. Working for King Louis XV and his 'Secret du Roi', the Chevalier appears to be the first to have used his ability to blur the sexes as a tool in commiting acts of espionage. Indeed, the true nature of his sex has remained unclear, despite an inconclusive autopsy.

This tale of a knight who spent the first half of his life as a man, and the second as woman (with a pardon and a wardrobe provided for by the French court no less), captivated the imagination of Robert Lepage. When the ballet legend Sylvie Guillem approached him with her long-time collaborator Russell Maliphant, Lepage leaped at the chance to explore the confusing and ultimately tragic story of the Chevalier d'Eon in a piece of dance theatre for Sadler's Wells: Eonnagata.

As a visual medium for the story, the trio were inspired by Onnegata - a Kabuki style of male actors playing the part of women. The strong imagery of Japanese theatre and the French court of the 1750's combined into a rich source to plunder for the designer Alexander McQueen. Starting with flesh-coloured suits with subtle suggestive padding in certain places, McQueen built up the layers of the characters and story. Using feather light silks for otherwise stiff male tailoring and the backlit kimonos as part of the set, his costumes were inspired and as much a part of the performance as the dancers. Another essential contributor was the lighting designer Michael Hulls, whose ability to manipulate shadows was integral to the illusions and pace of the piece.

It has been a longing of mine to see Guillem in action, and finally I was exposed to her endless grace and strength. A more fitting dancer for the role surely does not exsist!

All in all, an insight into the weird and wonderful twists of history and, well, the human body.

my valentine's note

"Did you know that St. Valentine is also the saint of epilepsy, the plague and beekeeping?" asked Julia.

"Um, no."

As it turns out, our Valentine was a patron of many important things such as fainting and travelers, the above, and of course love, young people and the betrothed. Really, his link to romance was pressed upon him many hundreds of years after his death, but still the legends insist that he sent a love note to his jailer's daughter on the eve of his execution signed "from your Valentine." The good old romantics of the 19th c. exchanged pretty hand-written notes, before card making became popular. See below:

We three housemates had a lovely morning - English breakfast at Tom's, then an enthusiastic perusal of the market. Now here's the good bit; there I was, browsing away at a nice man's stall, inspecting mustache curling tongs and matching mirror, an old bright red spud gun, antique monopoly counters and much much more, when there, shining and beckoning lay a miniature molten gold-glazed tea set and tray. Perfect. Intact, with each lid in place.

"The glaze really does have gold in it," said the man, and I choose to believe him, though I must say, the amount of times I've heard "I know it's an original. If I could prove it, it'd cost yer four hundred quid, but as it is you can have it for a fiver" is unbelievable, not to mention small labels with "real gold" followed by "maybe" beneath in brackets and tiny font.

"My mother had a habit of asking 'But is it Limoges?'" (my favorite quote of the week) said a fellow stall keeper. Quite right too, but anyone can see that this set is fit for a queen faerie sprite. So I wrapped my midas wares in spare coffee napkins, and took it home to gaze at it in rapture.

"I would actually DIE OF ECSTASY if I tracked down a life-size version" I exclaimed with passion. The plot thickens. This time, Gabriel, Ian and I ventured out to the far flung and somewhat more peculiar regions that begin after the bridge towards the Golbourne Road. And there, shimmering like a beacon, calling like a heavenly golden siren, the stuff of angels, was my very own life-size magical MOLTEN GOLD TEA SET.

That's right, my most random dream came true, and all for a tenner. Six coffee cups and saucers, a cream jug, a sugar pot and a coffee jug too. They will forever more remind me of Valentine's Day and love and epilepsy and the plague, not to mention wishes and pink roses.

Laurel and I later headed out to see the very funny and clever 'Every Good Boy Deserves Favour', written by Tom Stoppard and Andre Previn at the National Theatre. It was really extraordinary, set in a Soviet asylum and staged around a full orchestra. It was hilarious, violent and sinister all in one blow, with music, dancing and solid acting. We also had surprisingly good seats which helped.

Afterwards, we headed outside onto one of the many balconies and up above us, projected onto a vast facet of the theatre was a final scene from "Shakespeare in Love", also written by Stoppard. We headed up onto the roof to find a multitude of huddling couples wrapped in blankets, transfixed by the enormous heads of Joseph Fiennes and Gwyneth Paltrow. So SO much more romantic than a constipated dinner for two, AND it was blissfully FREE of charge. It felt very British somehow and wonderful to watch it on the South Bank, the Thames at our backs and the sites of many of Shakespeare's galavanting escapades a mere minute away.