Charlotte Purser

Well, universe, I have finished the first draft of my...

Sun, 07 Apr 2013 15:40:24 -0400

Well, universe, I have finished the first draft of my play.

Which started as a screenplay. Which turned into a play. Which turned into a one-woman play. Which ended up with some lovely, puppets. Which ended up being about Alzheimer’s. And memory. And the power of love.

I love it. It still needs some (maybe a lot of) work, but the frame is there, the characters are real, and it means something to me, personally. I am drawn to rehearse it, perform it, eventually, to turn this play back into a weird little screenplay.

It is nice to finally have a result for my efforts. So often, as an actor, my time is given to marketing and mailings and auditions that produce no results whatsoever. Or, at least, none that I can see. Yet. And, let me tell you, seeing no results for your hard work is a tough thing to do day in and day out.

But this project, a year in the making, has finally produced something tangible. That I can grab hold of and defend and carry with me. That I can create and make real. That I can play with and mold and reshape and mess with. That I can share and give and restore my artistic self with. It’s a good thing.

A very good thing.

landscapelifescape:

Versailles Gardens, Paradise Island, The Bahamas

How To Stick Out In A Crowd by mastermayhem

Photo

Sun, 03 Mar 2013 20:04:53 -0500

The sun is shining. The world doesn’t stop. Spring arrives...

Thu, 28 Feb 2013 08:59:30 -0500

The sun is shining. The world doesn’t stop. Spring arrives before you know it.

He was my brother too.

But the world moves ahead. We have to find our optimism in the face of great tragedy. And we owe it to ourselves to keep moving ahead. To notice the subtle smell of the tulips. To feel the sunshine hot on our skin. To keep afloat on the dark waters. Somehow.

It’s not fair, none of it. But maybe it’s not about fair or unfair. It makes no sense. But maybe it’s not for me to understand. Maybe it’s for me to pray, to mourn, to grieve, to, eventually, comprehend.

My brother in law died a year ago today. He was a tall man, 6’6”, but a gentle giant. He was funny and generous and kind. He accepted me into the family and started making fun of me right away- just like a real brother would. We may not have grown up together, but for the last eight years, he was my brother, too.

We miss you DJ.

landscapelifescape:

Grob Drienhausen, Wuuppertal, Germany

dream field (by Dyrk.Wyst)

I’m cultivating a 1940’s style for the creation of...

Tue, 27 Nov 2012 16:34:30 -0500

I’m cultivating a 1940’s style for the creation of this webseries or monologue series I am writing. One of my inspirational images is this brilliant picture above by Marta Corcho. It’s the red lipstick, I think, that really transports one’s imagination back to another era…

For this project, I’ve been reading and rereading The War Letters. Hundreds of letters written between my grandparents during World War Two. They tried to write two a day and mostly succeeded. Some of them are mundane-about getting a new dress or the state of the barracks in Texas and Europe- but some of them are lovely and sweet and funny and charming. The more I read of them, the more I learn about the world of that day. It is fascinating to read their love and sense of humor in those antique letters. It’s hard to imagine my formidable matriarch of a grandmother as a college girl and a newlywed, but I am getting a better idea.

Working on this is both empowering and inspiring and I can’t wait to start filming! I’ll keep you posted…

darksilenceinsuburbia:

darksilenceinsuburbia:

Marta Corcho

The last time I saw him was in Surfside Beach, South...

Wed, 14 Nov 2012 09:12:27 -0500

The last time I saw him was in Surfside Beach, South Carolina. Many of my happiest memories were from those times at the beach with my Granddad and the rest of our family. He was standing on the deck, looking out at our whole family- aunts, uncles, cousins, children, grandchildren, and great grandchildren playing in the idyllic orange light of the setting summer sun as the surf rolled in- and he said to me, “There it is. There is my contribution to humanity… My contribution to humanity.”

Monday was Veteran’s Day Observed. It was also the day the world lost a great veteran airplane pilot from World War Two. Today I honor the contribution to humanity that was my grandfather. The man who inspired me to grow tomatoes, find peace with the world around me, and remain calm in the center of a storm.

A man who was raised on a farm in rural North Carolina, whose own father was a preacher, Granddad never lost faith. Even when he was ill and facing a recent surgery. He was always brave, kind, strong, and thoughtful. He loved a good football game and long discussions about the stock market. He loved to grow tomatoes and cucumbers in his backyard. He never killed bugs because, as he told me, “They didn’t want to live any less than I do.” He seemed to find many of the truths early on that the rest of us search our entire lives for.

He didn’t hear very well in the last few years of his life, but I know he understood that I loved and admired him very much. I felt an unspoken kinship with him and his generous, quiet heart. He helped my own father to become who he is and, in doing so, shaped who I am. I am part of his contribution to humanity. All of my aunts and uncles and cousins are, too.

What a contribution it was. Thank you, Granddad, for giving us all so much.

With love.

fleeckr:

summersong by Ragnarly

Edinburgh. I have just seen one of the most incredible pieces of...

Tue, 07 Aug 2012 18:14:02 -0400

Edinburgh.

I have just seen one of the most incredible pieces of circus. Or was it dance? Or was it theatre? It was amazing whatever it was.

Knee Deep, by Casus, an Australian circus troupe, blew me away with their bravery, creativity, artistry, and power. It was beautiful to see just what the human body can do/hold/balance upon. It was inspirational. The performers were so amazingly strong and flexible.

I was a child. Open mouthed and in awe. Laughing and clapping with every stunt. But they weren’t just stunts. They were artistic challenges. Physical challenges of the highest merit. I wondered if they had trained as gymnasts before creating this acrobatic dance form which incorporated silks, straps, acrobalance, and tumbling- all with simple yet illustrative lighting and phenomenal soundtrack in an ornate Spiegeltent.

It was beautiful. It made me want to get up and move, too. It made me want to learn, to try, to invent, too. It showed us our potential, physically, which lit me up inside. I imagine that I am still glowing at this moment.

There is nothing more inspirational than a trip to the Edinburgh Festival Fringe.

I think this David Fleck illustration captures that thought perfectly.

darksilenceinsuburbia:

David Fleck. Voyages over Edinburgh.

In the middle of the crowd and the heat and the noise and the...

Thu, 05 Jul 2012 22:08:31 -0400

In the middle of the crowd and the heat and the noise and the lights from just beyond the bridge. A breeze rolls in. For a moment we are sated.

But even with the breeze, we still couldn’t see them. The police barricades kept us just at 23rd street and 10th ave. With the normally much appreciated High Line Park above- now woefully underappreciated- because it meant that the fireworks we had come so far to see were still just out of reach.

Like a 1950’s censor over the girlie parts of the explosions- our vantage of the high line bridge meant we could only see the extremities. It made no sense why we were being kept without a view of the works but with a lovely view of an empty street- at the end of which was the promise of a yearly fulfillment of national pride and the wonder of exploding artistry in the night sky.

The fireworks went on. The breeze stopped. We tried to find a way past the barricades. So did everyone else. So none of us were let through. We craned our necks. We shifted our feet. We stood on the tiptop of tiptoes and still could only see the truly highest up fireworks. The rest obscured by bridge.

Then one person made it through. A rumor shuddered through the crowd “They are cuffing someone over there!” Then more people began marching through the gap the first created. No one was being handcuffed or arrested.

The police quietly and gently opened the barricade.

And we ran. The entire crowd ran. Skipped. Walked. Cavorted toward the pyrotechnics of our wildest imaginings. Fireworks exploding over head. Laughing. The pure joy of children. Running on a city street on one of the hottest nights of the year. Running to the end of the block. The promised land. 11th avenue.

And what a reward when we got there! There was not only one firework barge shooting off flaming stars and planets into the sky, there were THREE that we could see! All lined up like Rockettes shooting off high kicks in complete unison on the Hudson.

Haha! What a coup! What a view! What a rush! I loved it! Every second was magic.

For a moment we were wild patriots running free toward the fires. Toward the explosions and the noise. Toward denser crowds and sonic booms. Toward that which, by all common wisdom, should be a bit frightening. Running. With a sense of joy and purpose. There was the answer at the end of the street.

And so, for a few minutes, victory was ours. The world belonged to us. And we reveled in it. Drips of revelry slid down our temples. Cameraphones on ‘record’. Capturing for all of youtube and eternity the glory of such a feat. I have never appreciated fireworks so much.

Thank you New York City. What a sweet ease on a Summer’s night.

Happy Fourth of July.

darksilenceinsuburbia:

Lily Greenwood. Summer Butterflies.

This is a really beautiful image. I can imagine the balcony...

Tue, 15 May 2012 13:14:36 -0400

This is a really beautiful image. I can imagine the balcony scene from Romeo and Juliet taking place under this canopy.

Magic. That’s what it would be.

That’s what I search for in theatre. That is the sense of unrest that keeps my imagination up at night. Beauty. Wonder. And a sense of magic.

What else is there?

As I head to the drawing board for creating my own pieces, I am curious about finding a way to tell these stories in a timeless, universal way. Like a fairy tale- we can all identify with the characters. We know them. We love them. We root for them. They inspire our own searches for wonder. Our own vision quests.

How to do that? Now it is time to search out the real dramatic questions. What pins the story to a plot? What drives the characters? What connects us to them? What compels us to experience their stories?

darksilenceinsuburbia:

Spencer Finch. Moon Dust (Apollo 17), 2009. 150 light fixtures and 417 incandescent bulbs, dimensions variable.

Courtesy of Galerie Nordenhake, Berlin.

Photo: Wolfgang Träger.

Today, I find myself laid up on the couch, swollen ankle propped...

Sun, 29 Apr 2012 11:33:20 -0400

Today, I find myself laid up on the couch, swollen ankle propped up on an old folded quilt and some small pillows. (Should be better in a day or two doc says, so, dear reader, don’t worry, I’ll be back to my old tricks in no time at all.)

Falling off a stepladder yesterday had oddly given me some much needed ‘time-off’ to work on the projects nearest to my heart. I’ve been catching up on the ‘War Letters’ that I am inspired to turn into a play. I have managed to narrow it down to my four favorites from each grandparent. Now to intersperse them into a bit of a script…

Since I can’t really walk or do much of anything, I am forced to be focused. This means: no cleaning to distract me, no exercise, no errands to run, no time off of working on this to go to work, only time, and space, to really work. I might even have a first draft by the end of the day…

I find myself surprised at how glad I am to have an opportunity to stay focused. In a world where there is never enough time or money or space, it is ever increasingly difficult to get done what needs to get done.

So, I have been reading their sweet and honest love letters. I am learning about the real people my grandparents were back in the 1940’s. I am falling in love with their slang, their sentimentality, and the fact that they poured their hearts out to each other with complete abandon. Sending their love thousands of miles on either side of an ocean. They wrote letters to each other every single day of the war. There are over five hundred that made it the half century since and I have only managed to read a quarter of that. But that is enough for inspiration. Enough for something beautiful. Something magical. Something uniquely human about this story.

The biggest thing I am learning from reading these letters, is something very, very small.

In life, the strongest memories are usually of an instance. The way an eye twinkled in the the sun as a sudden breeze tossed a lock of hair. The way a dimple would crop up telling us that a smile would follow. The smell of pipe smoke fading across time and a memory of a moment in a house. Saturday nights twirling in a tiny kitchen. The crackle of a radio on. These are the bits within the letters that capture my imagination. Not only because they draw a picture of a specific memory, but because there is something lovely and magical in their retelling of it to each other. As if, somehow, through the distance of space and time, they were able to share a unique and intimate perspective on a moment and how deeply personal and moving even the tiniest of memories could be. But why share that? There is something about finely crafting an intricately detailed story that pulls the reader or listener closer. Perhaps their detailed letters were serving as a link across the miles. A chain. Drawing them together even if they were battlefields, countries, half a world, and an ocean apart.

Today is the day I will finally plant my upside down tomatoes! I...

Thu, 19 Apr 2012 11:13:27 -0400

Today is the day I will finally plant my upside down tomatoes! I can’t wait! I bought some seedlings a few days ago and they are already growing taller.

My grandfather has had a vegetable garden for as long as I can remember. He’s always grown amazing cucumbers and sometimes tomatoes, too. It seems like his having a garden has cultivated a strong sense of balance, patience, and dedication in his life. Or maybe he’s always had that and the garden just showed it to me…

I have wanted to have my own vegetable garden my whole life. It seemed to me that growing things, making something out of simple dirt and water, would be such a lovely way to exist. Alas, as an adult, I have never had a yard. A lack of a yard will not be an issue today, though, as I will make do in true New York fashion and plant, in my new hanging planter, a wee tomato seedling-which I plan to cultivate into a brilliant red and green bounty of topsy turvy juicy summer goodness.

See? There is a way to achieve the dreams of childhood. One just has to be flexible with the parameters. No yard? No problem.

Wish me luck!

darksilenceinsuburbia:

Charles Ray. Untitled, 2009. Ink on paper, 47 x 31-1/2”.

Collection of the artist; courtesy Matthew Marks Gallery, New York.

New York City. You inspire me. Everyday you begin anew. As if...

Mon, 02 Apr 2012 08:52:50 -0400

New York City. You inspire me. Everyday you begin anew. As if each day is fresh off the press and the old news is just lining the kitty litter box. I like that. Beginning anew. Forever with a chance of rebirth.

After having a few brilliant auditions, one not-super-great audition, a few callbacks, and a few setbacks, I was feeling a wee bit down in the dumps. But something about getting back up and trying again. Something about that undaunted spirit of hope courses through human veins. Something about the unwavering belief in one’s own gifts and need for self expression lifted me out of the doldrums this morning. I can begin anew. I can with sensitivity and nuance create new work and master the art of auditioning. I can start fresh. Dust off past disappointments. Emerge from a blue cocoon and spread my wings.

So, thank you New York City. The hope of your sunlit mornings inspires me.

fleeckr:

through the glass (by Christopher Frank Beitz)

Four Weddings and a Meltdown

Mon, 02 Apr 2012 08:40:17 -0400

Four Weddings and a Meltdown:

Seriously, a great little article. Enjoy.

kemeleng:

by Erin Foster

…Get your eyes off their plate. No one gets to decide if your life is good or if you are where you were supposed to be at this age. As long as you’re still curious about things and willing to evolve a little, make an adjustment on yourself here and there, you’ll be fine. So, they’re getting married. Or having a baby. Or crazy in love. Well, then it’s their turn to have that, and it’s not taking away anything from you or speeding up any imaginary timeline you’ve decided for yourself. You put it there without reason and you can take it away too. No one else’s story has anything to do with your own. And if they’re uncomfortable with the choices you make, then it’s a bummer that your interesting life is keeping them up at night while you settle into a tantalizing episode of Real Housewives of Beverly Hills and fall asleep with a smile on your face.

The world unfolds around you. Revealing itself to you piece by...

Mon, 19 Mar 2012 23:37:48 -0400

The world unfolds around you. Revealing itself to you piece by piece. You learn about it, you help create it, you find its nuance. You find its magic. Its otherworldliness. You help it find balance, come unglued, fall apart, put it back together, get it what it wants. The imaginary becomes real…

When I was a little kid I was a big time reader. In fact, I used to get so absorbed in books that I would read through whole dinners with my family and they had trouble getting my attention. So, eventually (and I think we may have been the only home in America like this) they made a rule that I could not bring a book to the table. What a nerd.

But, actually, maybe not.

Imagination. Concentration. Empathy. Focus. I learned as a child that this was what absorbed and interested me. The world comes alive and unfolds around the reader. The reader comes alive and absorbs the story. The reader becomes alive.

The reader becomes the character, lives for them, fights for them, defends them against their enemies, wants so badly for them to finally get what they want.

It should come as no surprise that I became an actor. The physical embodiment of what makes me feel alive. No surprise at all. Becoming alive anew every day. What could possibly be a better way to live?

I’ve recently begun researching/creating/writing two new projects for myself to act in that excite me and energize my creative fire. It’s an effort. It’s a bit daunting. But my imagination will not let me quit. I am feeling alive when I work on it.

So I begin.

Starting with page one.

darksilenceinsuburbia:

Laurindo Feliciano. Compendium.

The eiffel tower wasn’t built in a day. It took many, many...

Sat, 31 Dec 2011 20:49:24 -0500

The eiffel tower wasn’t built in a day.

It took many, many months of meticulous planning, patience, and steady work to build it. People thought it would never be beautiful. Thought it was an eyesore. But others had faith and remained steadfast in the belief that it could be built. Now, it is the most iconic and evocative image of Paris that we all recognize the world over. I’ve seen it in person, too, and think it’s actually quite lovely as well.

I found this particular picture incredibly inspiring. I feel a bit like a work-in-progress Eiffel Tower myself at the moment. In transition. Between being a student and being an artist in the world. Between being an aspiring actor and a working actor. Between where I am and where I want to be.

I am so close now I can see the top of my Eiffel Tower- even if it’s currently a vision in my ambition’s imagination. But if I can see it, visualize it, and make it real in my mind’s eye- then I can make it actually exist in reality. Gustave Eiffel did it. So can I.

So, here’s to building the adventures we seek in the New Year! May we find all the tools we need at our disposal, plenty of support structures as we build, and the hard working imaginations to make it all happen.

Happy New Year!!!

saddest-summer:

Gustave Eiffel

Planting the seeds for success this week. One seed at a time....

Mon, 28 Nov 2011 11:05:15 -0500

Planting the seeds for success this week. One seed at a time. One letter. One email. One idea.

One idea.

Today, that idea is gratitude. When I think of the efforts others have put in to help me on this journey, I feel exceedingly grateful. The desire to work extra hard and be deserving of their efforts doubles in me and I reach higher, dig deeper, and commit further to it.

The fact that others in my life have cared enough to support me gives me the faith that I will reach my goals and succeed. The fact that perfect strangers make time in their schedules for me to meet with them makes me both appreciative and hopeful for the possibilities of the future. That my life is filled with such creative, inspired actors, designers, writers, painters, technicians, entrepreneurs, teachers, and students continually amazes and surprises me.

For this, I am honor-bound and inspired with gratitude.

(this amazing photo is from National Geographic)

“Be the change you wish to see in the world.”...

Tue, 08 Nov 2011 18:49:51 -0500

“Be the change you wish to see in the world.” (Mahatma Gandhi)

“Don’t dream it. Be it.” (Rocky Horror Picture Show)

I am excited! Today I had my first day training at Lululemon and seriously, I never thought retail work could be so inspiring. I am truly energized and inspired from having spent only one day there.

I am feel this way because I finally put into words what my long term goals are. I had perhaps been thinking too small before. I had perhaps been thinking of things that are too easily attainable. Perhaps not even admitting to myself what I really wanted from life. What I needed was to define a goal that encompassed all of my smaller, reachable goals and set me on fire to surpass them by miles.

What I needed was a big, out there, wild, audacious goal to challenge my creativity and capture my heart’s imagination.

Then.

I knew it.

How funny. It was like it had been there all along. Waiting for me to say it out loud.

I am an actor, I love acting, but I want more than just to work as an actor. I want more than just to be successful in a traditional sense. I want something bigger.

I think that theatre can be bold, innovative, powerful, physical, subtle, visceral, raw, magical, evocative, exciting, and compelling. Theatre can change lives. Theatre can be as evocative as a sporting event. I have only seen it two or three times before- and then at only small scale levels- but I know it can be created. And I think it can be created more often and performed for many more people. I know it can. The thought of collaborating in the creation of something so exciting shoots through my imagination like a wildfire, igniting everything it touches with a passion to create itself.

It is a leap for me. It is different from what has come before. But the truth is, this wildfire is what makes me want to act, to collaborate, to create. This is what inspires me.

It is

Ignition.

(I thought this painting by Paul Tebbot -link below- was the perfect image for the idea of painting this life the way we dream it.)

dannel:

Paul Tebbott

When I dragged my suitcase up the four flights of stairs,...

Wed, 12 Oct 2011 13:16:47 -0400

When I dragged my suitcase up the four flights of stairs, unlocked the door, and flipped on the light for the first time in over a year, I gasped.

My breath caught in my throat as I looked at my long missed and lovable old friend. My confidante. My solitude. My respite. My apartment in Queens.

Gratitude and release surfed over me in waves as I slowly began to breathe again. I looked at the goldenrod of the living room walls we painted together when my husband moved in. I looked at the couch we bought with gift cards we were given at our wedding. I looked out the window at which I had spent many a night gazing out at the iconic skyline over the river and wondering what the future would hold. I looked right at my history and could see my future here.

I knew I was in the right place.

In our green-painted bedroom, I played some Texas country music from my computer as I slowly began to unpack. I took my time with it. Deliberately slowing down and pacing myself at a new speed- my own speed. As I prepare to adventure out again into the world of theatre making and yoga teaching, I am allowing myself to move at my own speed, listen to my own rhythms, and answer to my own heartbeat. Take my own time with it. To make my own way.

I stepped into this deliberate journey with a viewing of the beautiful, poignant play, Nightlands, when it opened a few nights ago at HERE Arts Center in Manhattan. My husband (the amazingly talented Stephen Arnold) created the evocative lighting designs that added not only amazing atmosphere, but a sense of pure magic, to the play itself. The lovely story and clear character work touched my sympathies and made me want to learn more.

After leaving the amazing, creative hub of Glasgow a few weeks ago, it was refreshing to now slide my imagination into the misty waters of a good Off-Broadway play. It reminded me that everyday there is creativity and magic happening in other parts of the world- one must simply take the time to find it. I realized this and I knew I had come to the right place. The place where I can create a magic of my own.

New York City, I’m glad to be back.

(for more info about Nightlands, visit http://www.newgeorges.org/ce.html)

antiquecameras:

by (Josef Hoflehner)

Tonight we open at the Traverse in Edinburgh and I am so...

Wed, 14 Sep 2011 09:07:07 -0400

Tonight we open at the Traverse in Edinburgh and I am so excited! I woke up super early- without an alarm- like a kid on the first day of school.

It’s really a bit hard for me to comprehend that in less than one week my graduate school experience will be over. It has been an amazing, life changing adventure and I am a better person for it. I think my brain is a bit in denial that it could ever be finished.

But my heart is ready. It’s time to get out there and get back in the world. It’s time to share what I have learned and how I have grown. It’s time to reconnect with my family and friends whom I have not seen for a year or more. It’s time to go back to New York City and make some work.

Yes! It’s time to create something new!

So, cheers! To all those who are stepping out into the void and the big, wide, open unknown:

May we find magic in our hats and courage in our hearts.

And…like my Mom wrote in our birthday cards growing up…

May the world be our oyster

and may we find many pearls.

antiquecameras:

origin (by Joshua Kemble)

It’s raining this morning in Glasgow, but I think...

Mon, 12 Sep 2011 07:21:53 -0400

It’s raining this morning in Glasgow, but I think it’s beautiful.

I fully intend on walking to school today to what looks like my last class at RSAMD (now called Royal Conservatoire of Scotland) and also to turn in my second to last paper of this magical year.

But it’s not over- not yet…Thankfully, we still have two more shows this week- in Edinburgh! I am really excited about performing at the Traverse!

For more info about our New Works shows check out www.rsamd-cct.com

More channeling Ganesha… antiquecameras: Pachyderm (by...

Sat, 10 Sep 2011 08:42:37 -0400

More channeling Ganesha…

antiquecameras:

Pachyderm (by BillAyton)