The Work We Do

Giugno 30, 2008
Days in Italy: 10
Known Bug-bites: 37
Total Gelato Sessions: 7
Collective Fanta Consumed (mL): 3990

"Hey, you wanna get up now?"

My body has gotten used to the stimuli here, so it's gone back to neglecting my alarm, which has now gone back to ringing so long it drives those around me to frustration. Jon-o wakes me up almost every morning these days.

As for the other mornings, Dan obliges the duty.

On the brighter side of things, my mouth still very much enjoys what has become the standard breakfast spread of bread, jams, and my beloved juice. I like to keep myself entertained by pioneering sweet new combinations. Among these, the Nutella & arancia (orange) jam is my proudest achievement. Good lookin out, Sami.

Just as I'm about to take a bite into tangible genius, I feel a little tingle in my nose. I'm really quite amazed at how God has worked out the body and mind. The tingle is hardly different from plain vanilla runny noses, yet for some reason I know it's strawberry. I just know.

Class becomes particularly exciting today as our teacher walks in with a locked wooden box. I turn to my gaze to my classmates to find the same bright-eyed suspense. There's some befuddlement and unintelligible whispering, but we're sure there can be only one treasure in that chest. He opens it, and sure enough, there they are...

The masks! He's finally letting us use the masks!

While much of my writing is devoted to acclaiming the orange-flavored beverages here, this is actually the real reason I came to Italy. We've been studying Commedia dell'Arte, an improvisational Italian comedy style that uses fantastic masks and stresses speaking physically. It's an old art that's fathered other comedy styles, including slapstick.

Abbot & Costello.


Laurel & Hardy.


Lucy & Ethel.


Will & Carlton.

It's basically physical hyperbole.

Learning Commedia is a process that can't be rushed. Our one class - four days a week - runs from 9:00-12:30pm, breaking for lunch and then resuming from 2:00-6:00pm. The work to restructure our bodies to such exaggerated and specific fundamentals has been monotonous, meticulous, and nothing short of intensive, leaving me significantly more tired than normal. Which, as you should know, says a lot.

But I'm pleased to find that this moment is very much worth the anticipation. All the work before - the endless exercises, the tedious deconstruction and restructuring of our physicality all the way down to our center of gravity - makes the art that much more respectable, authoritative, and significant. And fun.

Once more abstinence proves to be a wise choice.