Archive for the ‘Work’ Category

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The tarot shop is open for business

December 8, 2011

I do readings these days, like in the good old days. I thought I’d announce it here. My general style is to send a detailed reading description over e-mail, after negotiating the general terms of the reading – i.e., what you’d like to talk about. I don’t believe in any of that “predicting the future” claptrap, but I think tarot can do a damn good job of helping a person make sense of the present. I think it helps us recognize certain patterns in our lives and it can hit upon a lot of things that are buried in our subconscious. I also think of it as a relaxing way to pass the time. Prices are negotiable and payable via Paypal.

I’ve read Daisy’s tarot once upon a time. And Sarah’s. I also don’t do asshole requests like, “So tell me what I’m thinking about right now, haw haw.” Tarot should be fun – for both parties involved. It’s not a magic act.

The deck I currently use is a Viking myth deck. I bought it in Kiev – my native city, and a city founded by Vikings, according to legends.

If you’d like a reading, get in touch here, or on Facebook, Twitter, or Google+ (cue cool transition, courtesy of Ray William Johnson).

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I’ve been working

December 2, 2011

Or, you know, goofing off, depending on how you look at it.

You know, Ekaterina Zatuliveter is NOT a spy. I’m amazed at the slut-shaming this woman has endured. All because she’s Russian and gravitates towards older, powerful men. In a normal world, this would have been a phase she would have grown out of – upon which she would have penned a whimsical screenplay about it. You know, something like “Guinevere,” but with more mass market appeal.

Also,  my translation of the Nicholas Seeley interview with Sergei Lukyanenko, Russian fantasy writer extraodinaire and author of “Night Watch,” et al, is out in Strange Horizons. This was a trilateral effort: Nick, Shari Perkins, and myself.

Went to the “Khodorkovsky” premiere at Artdokfest film festival today. Didn’t stick around. They herded the guests into a ridiculous line – honestly, the Khudozhestvenny movie theater is not the best place for a festival of this magnitude. The woman in line next to me had huge sapphire earrings like something out of a period drama. I got bored very quickly. Didn’t get my goddamn press badge either, will have to go tomorrow. “But we e-mailed you that you have to get it by six!” “No you did not, goddamit!” Anyway, I warned them that I’ll be arriving to claim my badge with an infant in tow tomorrow, festival ambiance be damned.

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I’m happy like a new mother is happy

September 12, 2011

When the theater festival in town gives her opportunities and excuses to drink wine with disreputable men who happen to be her friends, fret about some critics’ need for “catharsis” and kiss the disreputable man who happens to be her husband in the back of a cab at night.

Other towns have other festivals, but Lyubimovka is ours. :)

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Back at work full-time

September 3, 2011

It’s way hard – but I’m happy about it, because it brings the right sort of balance for a person such as myself. I get to work on the newspaper during the day, and come home to Lyovka at night, and I’m not overwhelmed by the minutae of home life – though neither do I have the chance to get overwhelmed by what we do at work. My brain just goes into “home mode” once I have Lyovka in my arms – and home mode is something I have struggled with before we had our son.

None of this stops random people from passing judgement – where would I be if it wasn’t for their sage opinions on everything from whether or not using an electrical breast pump is “wrong” to whether or not I’m a “real mother” at all now? Please, don’t hesitate to keep your superior wisdom to yourself, o Weird Dude In the Elevator Who Glimpsed My Breast Pump In a Paper Bag! I genuinely want to discuss the fact how I am a total freaking idiot – because the only thing that worked for your wife is a manual breast pump, and it’s “more natural that way.”

Ahem.

Lyovka, meanwhile, is amazing. He has my hair colour and forehead so far – but looks like his dad otherwise. When he gets upset and cries, he looks like a pumpkin. Or a tomato. We call him tykvochka and pomidorchik, then. “Uh oh, the pomidorchik is starting to grow.”

Our nanny is Ukrainian and knows all about borscht.

I’ve been busy working on a film treatment based on my new play at night – which works out great if Lyovka sleeps between night-time feeding sessions, and not so great if Lyovka doesn’t sleep between night-time feeding sessions.

The deadline is approaching, but there are always more deadlines in sight.

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I’ve been writing

August 29, 2011

“Pregnant in Putin’s Russia” – my Foreign Policy article on this whole having a baby in Moscow business. I finished this one on the beach, but it doesn’t really have a beach-y feel to it – since it’s about healthcare and attitudes surrounding pregnancy and birth. The latter in particular coulduse some adjustment. Still, my experience of giving birth to Lyovka was very, very positive – and I have to thank the doctors involved. Dr. Glotova and Dr. Akhsyamova, plus Dr. Bovina, who referred me to them – may they live long and prosper.

“My feminist life – after childbirth.” I blogged this for Feministe, and some truly marvelous people trolled the comments. Enjoy!

Also, I think the best column I wrote for TMN this month was “Born in the land of Mordor.”  It’s about Lyovka & Russian bureaucracy. I do NOT think that Russia is Mordor – it’s a bit like Gondor, all things considered – but the bureaucrats try their damnedest to convince you otherwise.

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2010: the year that was

December 30, 2010

Well, it was a year in which my entire life changed. Again. It’s funny how that keeps happening.

I got a new job, moved to a new country, met a new guy, and decided to procreate with him. I wrote four short plays, one which turned out to be good, according to independent sources. I swam in a sea of stars, far out towards the horizon, something the person that I used to be could not have done. I’ve kept working on a novel. I lost two teeth, messed up my back, but, according to my resolution from last year, I did indeed stop pretending that everything’s Fucking Horrible. Everything’s fine.

My resolution for 2011 is to successfully give birth to a happy baby – and perhaps a couple of more plays. And finish the draft of that novel. It could be a good one. I’m in exactly the right spot in the world for the sort of story I am working on – a fantastical story, naturally. What other kind of story could a person like me conceivably write in Moscow?

Today, I watched both snow and sunlight fall on the earth as I made my way to work. I caught a ride with a chatty international student, who told me that my New Year’s resolution should actually involve buying a car. “Fancy people like you should have their own cars,” he summed up his case. “And it’s not like you need a Maybach.” I had no idea where he got the idea that I’m fancy – but it turned out that he liked my coat. The fiance had insisted that I buy this coat a few months ago, before I got pregnant. It really does have  fetching collar. At least I’m a stylish pregnant pukey lady.

Thanks to my friends and the readers of this blog, and the readers of this blog who happen to be friends. 2010 was a good year. See you on the other side, as always. :)

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“Дочка” (“The Daughter”) being read at Lyubimovka

September 20, 2010

A photo by the lovely and amazing Anna Orlandina:

Vladimir Snegurchenko, Alexey Zhiryakov, Natalya Nozdrina, Diana Rakhimova, and Alyona Ibragimova (seated).

Snegurchenko came up from Kharkiv, and directed the two other Ukrainian plays that were part of the same project as mine – “Vasimilyatsiya” and “Simeini Lyudi”. He helped move the evening along. Zhiryakov directed the reading of “The Daughter,” as well as read one of the parts (to be specific, he read the Orthodox priest – ha ha). Nozdrina had the most difficult part, in my humble opinion, even though it was a small one – she read the part of a girl who may or may not be possessed by demons. Diana Rakhimova played the priest’s slightly loopy but kind-hearted friend, Agrippina. And in the lead was the wonderful Alyona Ibragimova – a girl who came back to her native village or town (as I wrote before, our project deals with settlements that were categorized as being “in between” villages and towns in the Soviet era) to bury her alcoholic father.

I’m really grateful to the people who participated and made this thing a reality. I wrote the play in cafes in Moscow in the spring and in early summer, back before the weather turned horrendous. A lot of chain-smoking and dramatic hand gestures accompanied the process. My charred lungs were especially grateful when it all came together at the festival. It was also just gratifying to participate in a joint Russian-Ukrainian project, with all of the endearing mishaps surrounding it.

I am now officially a “promising young playwright” and someone who “needs to get off her ass and do more” – anonymous sources were quoted as saying.

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Natalia Antonova was immortalized by Zhenia Vasiliev… and the peasants rejoiced

September 16, 2010

(c) Zhenia Vasiliev / The Moscow News

A memorable night at the 2010 Lyubimovka festival is shown here in a cartoon. I almost wish my real boobs were as awesome as the boobs on my cartoon version. Almost – because I already have an injured back.

If you’re going to get all huffy with me and point out that ZOMG! HDU! THIS IS NOT SERIOUS THEATER JOURNALISM!… please do. I’ve been spoiling for a fight that has nothing to do with the best location for a medium-sized washing machine.

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Lyubimvoka & Gogolfest: plays in Moscow & in Kiev

September 12, 2010

So I had a reading at the Lyubimovka festival in Moscow this past Friday. It was part of a special project called “PGT” – which refers to a denomination dreamed up in Soviet times for small towns that are bigger than villages, but aren’t quite towns in the strictest sense of the word.

Both of the other authors involved in the project are Ukrainian, and live in Ukraine. My situation is wildly different than theirs, nowadays, but we both have that common denominator. After the readings, when they had us up on the stage, I felt myself reacting very strongly, even painfully, to the criticism levelled at the other two authors.

Without patting myself on the back too much, I can say that my play was the most well-received of the three. I think this happened because it fit the format of the festival much better. The other two plays were more “global” – mine was extremely personal (I even went as far as name the heroine “Toosia,” which is a diminutive of “Natalia”). The other two readings were “imported” – the director was a guy from Kharkov, the actors were also from Ukraine; my play’s reading was directed by a Russian, and the actors were Russian.

At the discussion afterward, the moderator said that my play didn’t attempt to answer socio-political questions: In my case, the potential theme was the “is religion needed?” question, because one of the main characters is a widowed Orthodox priest, and the play’s big climax involves something that may or may not be an exorcism (I’m saying “may or may not”, because it was important to me that people make up their own minds – though as the author, I would lean toward the notion that yes, it was an exorcism, or something like it). The moderator said, “this play paints pictures,” referring to the fact that the text had a different context. This made me extremely happy, and it was one of the best things that anyone had ever said about my attempts at playwriting.

When I was a kid, I had this fantasy of painting pictures and handing them out to people on the sidewalk, and seeing what they think. This past Friday, I saw that fantasy fulfilled. Although the context of the project presumes a conflict between rural and urban life, when I wrote it, I had to wage bloody battle against the idea of “simple ol’ country folk vs. corrupt city life,” because I could feel myself slipping into that familiar trap, and it blew. To have someone publicly tell you, “hey Natalia, you avoided that bullshit” was good news.

And, once again, the format of the play appeared to fit the format of Lyubimovka.

All of this brings me to the fact that on Monday, two of my plays, including “Daughter”, which was just read at Lyubimovka, will be read in Kiev, as part of the LSD (Laboratoriya Sovremennoi Dramaturgii – the Laboratory of Modern Drama) project at Gogolfest. I will not be able to be there, and I have no idea how it will go. Will the plays be totally out of context in a Kievan setting? Will there be a disaster and a debacle, or – even worse – a total muted failure, of the sort that one doesn’t even want to gossip about? My cousin is reading the lead part in “Daughter” – so I know for certain that there aren’t likely to be any fuck-ups there. Also, the guy reading the part of the Orthodox priest is Dima Yaroshenko, one of my favourite young actors, so you know that shit just got real. Still, I’m nervous.

It would have been interesting to see the differences between how a play in Moscow is read, vs. how it is read in Kiev with just a few days in between. I think this is one of those instances where a director’s work – what directors do and how they do it – would be exposed and apparent.

On Thursday, at Lyubimovka, there was a scandal involving a young Ukrainian playwright who, five minutes into a completely disastrous reading of his play, walked out. Then he walked back in again, and called everyone “idiot”, and called the lead actress a “whore” (a great example of male Ukrainian playwrights keeping it classy). I think this kind of behaviour sucks and would never do it, even if it is a way for the author to rescue himself in what is an essentially unfair and painful situation. A simple walking out would have been way classier than the trash-tastic screaming and fighting that followed. I only caught the end of it, and I was honestly irritated by what I saw and heard (it was hysterical, though, because I found myself surrounded by Russians who were asking me to translate what the guy was screaming – as he was screaming in Ukrainian).

The debacle was a clear example of how a completely awful reading can kill a good play, though.

The actress who was called a “whore” was telling me outside just a few minutes later: “WE WERE UP UNTIL 5 A.M. TRYING TO FIGURE OUT HIS STUPID, CONVOLUTED TEXT.”

Even laying aside the fact that she was emotional after having been publicly insulted, I still think that what happened is representative of a certain problem. If the text is “stupid” and “convoluted” to begin with – how about you give it to someone else to read?

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So we should only feature rape as long as everyone is on the same page?

June 7, 2010

I realize that the title of this post is a rhetorical question. Do bear with me, though.

I thought the Gender Across Borders series on ‘The Theater’s Rape Culture‘ was very interesting, but this part on “Spring Awakening” in particular had me scratching my head. I agree with Kyle that rape is too often used in an extremely gratuitous fashion, but I had several points of disagreement.

First of all,

…I found an advert for a Kevin Spacey led play called A Moon for the Misbegotten. I don’t remember the exact text but it was actually along the lines of ‘featuring so and so in a disturbing rape scene’. It’s bad enough when rape is used almost without second thought when attributing characters but to use it as a means to excite the audience?

Well, it depends on how you read it, don’t you? Personally, I want to be warned well in advance if a certain play or movie or whatever is going to feature a disturbing rape scene. That way, I can decide if I’m up to seeing it in the first place. Yes, it can very well be argued that disclosing this has a double effect – some people will wind up going purely to gawk, sure. But why should they set the standard? Obviously, I’m not so naive as to suggest that lurid sexual violence doesn’t draw people in – it’s no different than pausing by the scene of a bloody accident (case in point: the dead body that my co-workers saw this morning at Park Kultury metro station) not to mention the “rape culture is yummy” stuff thrown in, but what exactly should the producers of a play do in that case? Add a little addendum? “This production features a disturbing rape scene – by the way, RAPE IS WRONG.” The people that can be reached by such a statement in the first place will just have their intelligence insulted.

…the entire play is about sex (it is called Spring Awakening after all) so nearly the entire cast, both male and female, have some sort of sexually related background attached to them. But, the females are the only ones that are made to be the victims of their own sex. Again, rape and sexual trauma are being used to provide supposed emotional depth to characters who otherwise would be seen as one-dimensional in comparison with the males who seem to have a much wider variety of issues to deal with.

That is a very interesting point. Do we normalize trauma by talking about it? I think that sometimes the answer is yes, we do. It all depends on how we talk about it, of course, but yes, this is possible.

For a show that prides itself on being contemporary, I just wish it was delivering a different message to audiences than ‘rape is a staple part of growing up for a young woman’.

This is also very difficult for me to address. Because, yes, once again, normalization of rape is not just an abstract concept. It happens daily. It’s even in the goddamn fashion ads. At the same time – yeah, sexual violence is visited upon women in greater numbers than it is on men. Violence, sexual and otherwise, was a part of my growing up. I hope it’s OK for me to talk about how much it sucked – without being prompted to, for example, set the right tone. I choose my own tone when I talk about what happened to me.

Finally, this issue is personal for me because I am not just someone who is familiar with the subject matter – I’m also a playwright, these days. And in my second play, the one that actually received some genuinely positive comments from people whose opinions I care about, there is the following scene:

A husband and wife who are arguing while stuck in their car in the middle of a traffic jam wind up yelling at each other over the miscarriage that the wife had earlier – and who’s to blame for it. In the course of their escalating argument, the husband tells her that he can “make her a baby.” She taunts him – claiming that he cannot. At this point, he drives off the road and lunges at her, trying to take off her clothes and kissing her. She spits in his face and struggles, and right after she stops struggling, their car is hit from behind by another car. The woman jumps out of the car first, and ends up defending her husband from the driver of the other car, who accuses them of parking illegally.

The play, which is in Russian, is about upper-middle-class Kievans, and its climax in particular was discussed after it was read at the latest meeting of the Laboratory of New Drama in Kiev (I took a train down to see it read over the weekend). People said a lot of different things about it. Some viewed what happened as an attempted rape, others took a very different position.

I don’t normally tell people how to interpret my writing, but in this case, I very much believe that what happens in the play is an attempted rape. I don’t think it’s particularly ambiguous. The wife’s defense of her husband, however, is also unambiguous.

I guess anyone can look at this play and decide that it condones rape. After all, if the wife defends the husband right after the incident occurs, then she was cool with it all along, right? Well, actually, I think human beings are more complicated than that. I don’t think there is anything complicated, on the other hand, about rape itself. Can the two viewpoints co-exist within one creation? I think so.

The husband’s character in the play is sympathetic. I sympathize with him myself, on one level. Because I actually know a lot of men like him – men who have been taught, either by family or society or both, that there is something nobly masculine about trying to tear off their wife’s clothes when she’s saying “get your hands away from me” and think that this is exactly what she wants, despite her protestations. Especially if they have just been taunted – they see it as some sort of twisted version of “consent.” From a dramatic point of view, it’s a kind of dead end, I think. It’s not a dead end from the point of view of ethics, though – rape is rape. Even the people who love us can cross that line – and that’s the other thing about this play – I fully believe that the husband loves his wife, and that she loves him right back, but that they wind up with having no actual means of expressing this love, and that’s a tragedy to me.

Did it disturb me when a member of the audience, a playwright and actor himself, described the husband’s actions as “the actions of a real man – the first time he was able to act like a real man, actually”? Yes, it did. It disturbed me especially when I considered how I had attempted to get inside the character of the wife – was she really attempting to provoke her husband? I wanted to leave that question open-ended, without attempting to minimize the husband’s actions. Because I don’t believe that anyone is “asking for it” – not ever. “Asking for it” is a false concept to me. The responsibility is always with the person who decides to go ahead and do what the husband in this instance does.

Still, the wife’s harsh words to her husband were used to justify his behaviour. People took what happened in my play – and some of them wound up rationalizing it very neatly.

Have I contributed to rape culture? I think the answer to that question is probably “yes and no.” I think it depends on the individual audience member. I think it also depends on what we mean by the word “contributed” in this context. With my second play, I wanted to make people think. I wanted them to consider the full ugliness of the situation, and decide for themselves whether or not it’s completely hopeless. Maybe it’s because I believe that some people can change their minds – the husband character, maybe he can change his mind, maybe he can see that what he did was wrong. I certainly suggest the possibility at the very end – among other things, such as the possibility that the wife is actually leaving him for good.

But it’s just that, a suggestion. After all, I can only lead that horse to water – following that, everything is up to the horse.

Am I responsible for my work? I am, absolutely. That’s why I put it out there, to be open to criticism, as opposed to locking it all in a desk somewhere (I don’t even own a desk, ha). And I welcome comments – good, bad and ugly. I just don’t know if there is an explicitly “right” way to mention or portray sexual violence on stage. As always, though, I’m open to other people’s philosophy on the subject. After all, I’m the person who claimed that the way that Tom Wolfe portrayed undergraduate life in “I Am Charlotte Simmons” was wrong wrong wrong – if I can dish it out, I can take it.

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