Columbia College Chicago MA Drama: On Site Performances

The midpoint of this second semester brought us here. We had been pushed and pulled in more directions than we knew were possible. I never expected it. Here’s what I saw…

50 degrees in the 7 o’clock evening air surrounded us.  Our sights, the smells, the energy of the city…they competed with each eager step we took…

Standing on legs, among legs, between soft flying sheets of aluminum and hard molded metal. In red, she moves, fluid, and strong. Guided through her journey with words, and lyrical movement…

In pearl. On steps. Before the statue. From the sidewalk, down the street. She was present. Her song rang out. Voice, belted from her soul, moved from within. It caught the air, and flew among the breeze, into the hearts and minds of pleased onlookers and lit by the light of the city…

From the door of the stairs of the parking garage, the strings of the electric guitar were plucked. The amp blasted the most beautiful cords, accompanied by genius voice, led by powerful words. He played. We listened. When his song was over, he closed the trunk, and slipped into his car. We stayed… we weren’t done listening…

Walking up, the little bright light began at the window, pondering her subliminal reflection. Her light began to shine brighter as her reflection grew. She removed her coverings. She exposed her brilliance. She stood, before the world. We needed shades to protect from her light…

Columbia College Chicago MA Drama: On Site Performances

We were told it was supposed to be here. We didn’t expect it this way. The cab, the onlookers, the accidental encounter with the bicycle. Fame flashed before us in an instant. It recited a series of phrases that took us to a place we couldn’t remove ourselves from. We were pulled in. We didn’t want it to leave. It left in the cab. We were left with a selfie…

Seated on his throne, the masked elder led. The sight unexpected, the instructions to gather near the red cloth clear. We listened to the words of the man in red. His net, filled with objects, was cast. We made our choice to leave a remnant of the elder’s essence on the stained sheet. We wanted to stay. He yelled for our departure.  When we looked at what was left in our hands, he was still with us…

After listening to the performer on the subway platform, we boarded the train. It wasn’t until we took our seats that she entered our view. Unassuming, she moved. From the door, to the seat before us, we attended to her essence. Two stops later, through the tunnel, and across the street, we received her message: breath in the scent…

It wasn’t who we thought it was. Instead, he was an old man. His stick was used to give him sight. As his bare feet tickled the ground slowly being stripped of February snow, his voice sang words and spoke a song. As he continued, more voiced joined him that spoke of memories. The old man and his seeing stick began to move, not from of old, but returned to him, from his youth. He left us a memory…

(P.S. If you ever have the chance to be an Interdisciplinary, MA graduate student at Columbia College Chicago and take Drama AND Word Theory and Practice with Jenny Magnus and Sherry Antonini at the same time…DO IT)  Here’s to an AMAZING second semester. I can now enjoy Spring Break 2K15 knowing without a doubt that I’ve made the best life choice EVER!