Theatre Make-up: Before and After

It's been quite some time since I have made a post. After the passing of my Grandfather, I chose to step away from writing and just calmly wait for inspiration to strike again.  It took a while.  I spent my days working, taking a class, pulling pranks on my long-suffering fiance', sending inappropriate sexual texts to my bridesmaids and doing this crazy thing that the kids nowadays are calling "exercise".  Ever heard of it?  It involves a lot of sweating and lots of sweating, but after you get used to it, it's mostly just sweating.  I hate sweating.
Then unexpectedly one afternoon, I became very excited about the canvas that is the human face.  It's no secret that I love to put make-up on myself or anyone else that will hold still for 20 minutes.  Even more fun is when I get to do make-up for a performance!
I am currently in a local production of A Streetcar Named Desire and as always, I am shamelessly fascinated with the process of creating a character through the application of make-up.  Character study and hours of rehearsal being a given, the second level of fun begins in front of the dressing room mirror.  Since this is a staged production with lighting that washes out one's face, the make-up has to be applied  generously. The general rule is this: If you look like you should be scaring innocent children at the circus, your skin will appear natural in the stage light.  This applies mainly to women. Sometimes male actors like to have a little fun and put on some rouge or eyeliner.  And on special occasions, maybe a dress, but that's a story for another time.
As for me, I rarely miss an opportunity to pile it on. I'll start with a before pic, bare-faced and ready for action.  Gasp- natural skin! The horror!
After that, I put on LOTS of concealer, foundation, face powder, blush and add highlights and contouring.
This is then followed by two shades of eyeshadow, two shades of eyeliner, mascara, eyebrow pencil and lipstick that in normal light makes me look like a street walker.
And there you have it- a human optical illusion.  Just what every guy wants to wake up to. 
The sad thing is that under the stage light, it really just looks like I threw on some lipstick and blush.  Oh well, at least I get to look like a drag queen in person.  I think my drag queen name might be Virginia Hamm.  It just feels so right.
Until next time,
~Story Siren

 

Saying Good Bye

My Grandfather recently passed away.  He was a sweet man with a generous, loving heart.  He seemed stern and severe until he spoke or smiled at you.  Loyal, hard working and kind, brilliant at math, skilled at painting and drawing, a good husband, a good father and a wonderful grandparent.  There are not enough men like him.

Some of the clearest childhood memories I have of my Grandpa are simple and quite silly; we were visiting Grandma and Grandpa in their New Jersey home and had brought along our young toy fox terrier, Niblet.  Grandpa took a shine to her almost instantly.  He'd walk around the house in his bathrobe with little Niblet tucked away in his bathrobe pocket.  He would pet her and lovingly call her by her given nickname, "What Is And What Isn't, Everything And Everything".  I remember us trading quarters for kisses and Grandpa pretending to be poisoned by Grandma's food at the dinner table.  If he had a plate of delicious food, he'd stare at the plate and say very calmly, "Ok, no one talk to me for five minutes."  More recently, we would play 20 Questions and Grandpa would start off every round by staring me down and saying, "I know what you're thinking."  

It's easy to rage and scream that life is not fair.  Sometimes it isn't.  My Grandpa lived on this Earth for 81 years and that's something.  He was a teacher and a mentor who functioned best when he was able to do what he was great at.  It's true, sometimes life is not fair, but sometimes we get a long stretch of road and it's up to us to make the most of it.  My Grandpa did and I fully intend to do the same.  Loss will always hurt and we will never be totally prepared for it no matter when it happens.  This loss my family is enduring was sudden, over with very quickly.  A flash of light and he was gone.  There was no wait, no prolonged suffering, no wringing of hands and wondering when it would be over.  That exit was a gift to us all.

I know for a fact that my Grandpa is watching over me as I type this, smiling at the memories we made together.  If I could say one thing to him, I would say that I'm lucky I had him in my life for thirty years.  I would say that the world is a better place for having had him in it.  I would say that I admire him.  How many people do we get to say that about?

Below is a poem that I wrote for my Grandpa.  It will be read aloud by the preacher officiating the eulogy tomorrow.  Since I can't be there, it brings me comfort to know that my words will be.

For Grandpa, one of the sweetest people I have ever known.

You were a kind man with a big heart.
Now that you're gone, we're torn apart.
I still find it hard to speak of you,
the loss of you has torn me through.
You made us smile, you made us laugh.
I would like to say on your behalf
that you made the world a better place.
You took it on with aplomb and grace.
I know one day I'll see you again,

it's not a matter of "if" but "when".

I'm glad that I had you for 30 years.
I promise to not remember you with tears
but with memories of art, smiles and laughs.

One day again you will cross my path.

Thank you for letting me share with you the memory of a wonderful man.  His name was Robert, my Grandpa.


Until next time,

~Story Siren

The Wild and Wacky World of Open Mike

I have experienced a few Open Mike Nights in my time, some silly and whimsical, others somber and heavy.  From rock ballads in the belly of a cafe all the way to tap dancing in an abandoned building, the venues and performances have varied but the art has always remained true.

Until tonight.

Tonight I ventured out to a location that was new to me; the primary purpose of my adventure was to show support to a very talented friend of mine who is a regular at this venue.  I'd heard many things about this place and was eager to experience some performances by local artists and maybe even read one of my own pieces.  Sadly, this was not even close to how the evening played out. 

The night's entertainments began with an embarrassing and sloppy rendition of Ani Difranco's Freak Show, awkwardly performed by the venue's M.C.  It was sad, cliche and set the evening off on a sour note.  The two acts to follow were both stand-up "comics" testing out some of their new material.  I will just sum it up by saying that I wished I could have crawled under my seat on their behalf.  One of the comics even thought he was being cute by asking an eight-year-old girl if she knew what a "boner" was and if she had ever heard of "morning wood", right in the middle of his set.  The only truth and dark humor that seemed to resonate with the eerily silent crowd were the moments that the comics said their "jokes were bombing" and that they didn't get "one single laugh".  All true.

Then came the third set, the young girl who got to hear all about "boners" and "morning wood".  She was there to sing and play the guitar.   Let me rephrase that.  The two adults that the girl came with wanted her to sing and play the guitar.  She played and she sang.....like an off-key zombie.  It was a little scary.

Finally, it was my friend's turn to perform!  He has been coming to this venue for a year and seemed to feel a sincere fondness for this place.  The M.C. announces him, he goes up to the mike and.....people begin to talk.  Loudly.  All through both of his poems. 

I can't express enough how disgusted I was by the blatant display of rudeness.  The disrespect that was shown to my friend left me angry and smarting. 

In addition to the desperate promoting of the other "artists", the M.C. continued to inform our group that they were hoping to raise more money so that the pitiful Zombie Girl could continue performing in other venues.  Ick.

By this time, I am looking at the clock and counting the seconds until I can get the Hell out of there.  Next on the docket was an angry stand-up comic whose jokes focused mainly on self-deprecation and poo.  Not bad material in my opinion; I have always been a fan of potty humor.  However, when the crickets continued to chirp for him and a young lady offered him a verbal life raft, he attacked her because she was the only one who understood his joke.  Nice.

Following that lovely human being was another stand-up comic.  (Are we seeing a pattern here?)  His material flopped (Again, pattern, anyone?) so he decided to mix it up by talking about politics, because that always goes over well.  This caused the group, both guests and employees, to seethe and crackle.  One woman decided that this man's set was an appropriate time to have a quiet conversation with him that only the two of them could hear.  Another lady, an employee, hollered that the comic's information was "inaccurate" while wielding a dangerous roll of frozen cookies.  When the comic tried to calm her down by telling her that they shared the same opinion she snapped that she was "not on his side" and only wanted to make sure that he "had all the facts straight".  Thanks for being a participant, Angry Cookie Lady. 

Finally, the set finished and I was able to escape into the dark and welcoming night, never to return again.  The only positive part of the entire evening was that I chose to not perform!  In all honesty, that venue doesn't deserve me, or my friend.  It was the most negative Open Mike I have ever experienced.   It's not very often that an event can make a person question their life or career but tonight I questioned mine.  While sitting there, watching each set with increasing horror, I actually felt ashamed to call myself a performer.  Performance art is a tough thing and sadly, it only takes a few rotten ones to make the rest of us look bad. While driving away though, I remembered how much I love what I do for a living and that I am the only one who can make my reputation. 

The most important lesson that I took away from this dreadful night?  It is imperative that artists support each other!  Tonight, I saw no trace of appreciation, respect or camaraderie from the performers.  Each artist was there only to serve Number One. If this is a sign of times to come in the arts community, then we are in great trouble.

Having had this.....memorable experience, I will take extra great pleasure in returning to my regular Open Mike venue.   Call me a softy, but I like it when we can get along and enjoy each person and their art.  And maybe some jokes about poo.....


Until next time,

~Story Siren

Hide and Seek

This post is based on another nightmare that I had a short time ago.

Our Black Magic has back-fired.

We are in the graveyard, breathless and ready to run.

The mausoleum door hangs open like a broken mouth, the shadowy figure standing at the entrance moans.

It's awake and it's hungry.

The house looms ahead and we bolt for the door, praying to find it unlocked.  It is.

Dark, quiet, heavy inside.  Like death.

Time is running out and we need to hide.

Six people, six hiding places.

Off we go.

I find a quiet closet in the second floor study, coats hanging in my face.

I don't know what has become of the other five, I only exist in soundless breaths, face buried in the musty coats.

Footsteps on the first floor at the entrance, floorboards creaking.  

A throaty growl that reverberates through the old house.

My heart pounds so loud and strong I am sure it will burst through my ears and betray my hiding place.

Silent tears soak into the old coats.

Into the kitchen the footsteps trail.  

Along the counter, past the sink, over to the pantry....

A blood-curdling scream drowned into gurgling silence.

One down, five to go.

I pray the beast finds a full belly before it finds me.


Sweet dreams,

~Story Siren

"Ask Not For Whom the Bell Tolls..."

....it tolls for thee, 2011!  It is with bittersweet tears that I bid 2011 a sweet adieu.  This past year has brought some wonderful and memorable experiences my way and it is at the close of an old year that I like to reflect on said experiences.  Some good, some bad, some hilarious.  It is at this time that I will share with you some hard learned lessons, the classic Do's and Don'ts in the wild and crazy world of tour guiding.

*Surgeon General's warning: NOT for the faint of heart or those without a sense of humor!

The Do's:

-Do arrive on time.  This is greatly appreciated by your local tour guide and provides us with the opportunity to answer any pre-tour questions, ie, Where is the bathroom?, How long is the tour?,  Are the homeless people zombies or just drunk?, etc.

-Do wear comfortable shoes.  Sure, your four inch heeled boots are adorable but after 20 minutes of walking, your feet with be screaming which will cause you to curse me and all of my unborn children.  Remember that you signed up for a WALKING tour and slip on those sneakers before leaving the house!

-Do go to the bathroom before the tour.  This brings us back to the first Golden Rule: arriving on time.  If you arrive early enough, I will be able to tell you where an available bathroom is located.  Don't wait until we are 45 minutes into the tour and your bladder has threatened to perform a mass exodus in your pants.  This goes double for people who claim to have a weak bladder but still insist on bringing a large beverage with them.

-Do tip.  I've discussed this topic at considerable length in some of my previous posts and it is something I feel strongly about.  If you receive a service that you are very happy with, tipping your server, hair dresser, tour guide, etc, is a gracious and classy gesture.  Tour guides are happy to accept any token of appreciation.  Aside from a few dollars, I will also be thrilled to accept a glazed ham, a few chickens, a large bag of Hershey's Kisses or a box of Brita water filters.  I'm not picky, I'm practical.

The Don'ts:

-Don't roll your eyes when you're asked to silence your cell phone.  This is common courtesy for me and for everyone else on the tour.  No one wants to hear your oh-so-cute ring tone or message alert when we are in the middle of a story.  If you're too busy with texting your bestie, then don't go on a tour.  I'm not asking you to turn your phone off, just put it on silent.   The texts and the calls can wait until the story is over.

-Don't make fun of the tour guide.  This is for all the hecklers out there.  You may think that you're being funny but mocking a person trying to do their job just makes you look like an immature, insecure, egocentric ass.  Nothing ruins a tour more than by causing people to either laugh because they are so uncomfortable or by making the other guests angry.  Remember, you paid to go on the tour, so let me do my job.

-Don't let the homeless people scare you.  They are not demons, they are not zombies and they do not want to rape you.  I shouldn't even have this on my list but alas....

-Don't forget to have fun!  This is very important.  Remember that although tours are educational, they are also meant to be lots of fun!  I have had some great times telling stories; my goal is to get you to enjoy them with me.  If you had a great time, learned a little and had some laughs, then I did my job.

This concludes my sacred lists of Do's and Don'ts.  Please pass the word along.

In closing, I will share a make-up creation that I put together for a private tour earlier this month. (see below)

The goal was to achieve a striking image of macabre beauty.  I will call this a bloody success.  

Happy New Year to you all.  I hope that this coming year brings you all the joy that your hearts desire!

Until next year, ;-)

~Story Siren

Which Witch?

Best interruption from a young guest ever:

"Miss, you look like a witch."

Normally, I love children, especially fried with a side of ketchup.  But recently I had a couple of young lads on my tour who were an absolute delight.  Both were into ghost stories and ghost hunting.  I had one hold the sacred emf detector, the other one held my lantern.  The more outspoken child sometimes forgot that questions and comments were to be saved for after the story, and this last time, he did indeed inform me that I looked like a witch.  My appearance (which is steampunk) really isn't too far from that of a witch and I took pleasure in my reply:

"What if I told you that I am a witch?"

The boy stared at me wide-eyed, mouth agape.  He said very quietly, "........no you're not......."

I thought it couldn't get any cuter until his mother chimed in with, "You better stop interrupting her or she might cast a spell on you!"

The shaky response?  ".......no she won't......"

I gave him a radiant smile and told him that my specialty was to fill the noses of precocious young boys with boogers so green and so big that even bridge trolls would struggle to dig them out.  My young guest exclaimed, "No you can't!" so I said, "Okay, let me just get my wand out of my purse.  My goodness, this magic purse just has so much in it.  Okay, here's my cauldron, my eye of newt, my black cat Francesca- hi, sweet kitty-, my broom..."

At this point I looked up and reminded him that I didn't have to pay for parking since I flew into Downtown on my broomstick.  I'm not sure which I enjoyed more:  the expression on the boy's face or watching his parents trying to not laugh.

The search for the wand continued.

"Let's see, where did I put it?  Oh, there's that fairy dust I've been looking for!  And here's my wand..."  I looked up and smiled.  "You know what, this time I'll let you off with a warning.  No boogers for now, as long as you remember to not talk during the story."

I would be lying if I said that he didn't look relieved.

Did I really look that scary?  I feel that I've looked witchier on other nights.  Observe my look for the night and decide for yourself.  (see below)

Okay, now that I'm looking at it again, I realize that I did put a mole on that night.....

What can I say?  Kids call us out of stuff that we think no one else will even notice.  I loved entertaining those boys and I love my guests.  There's always something new to learn and improve.  Like parking.  If I really could get one of those broomsticks.....


Until next time,

~Story Siren

Laughter in the Dark

I recently worked a paranormal slumber party.  It was great fun; scary stories, ghost hunting, a seance, a visit to a cemetery and a 1am trip to an all-night diner for breakfast in our pajamas.  As I've mentioned before, storytelling is a great passion of mine.  I love everything about it- the candle lit ambiance, the wide eyes, the stilled breath held in anticipation- all for the sake of a good old fashioned scare. 

The stories I love to share the best are not the ones with a bone chilling ending; they are the ones that start out scary and provide an unexpectedly funny ending.  The darkened room then becomes filled with relieved laughter and candle lit grins.  Laughter is a little something that I try to include in my tours or any event that I work.  It's great to scare and thrill a group of people but I always like to leave them smiling. 

This especially applies to my ghost tours; the stories can be a bit history dense so I take any and all opportunities to give the history a few amusing twists.  And let us all remember- sometimes ghosts can be funny, too. 

Tonight, while walking down the street with a ghost radar detector, my group of brave thrill seekers passed a ferocious barking chihuahua who clearly would have ripped our ankles to shreds were it not for his leash.  The radar emitted two words, "Loud.  Mean."  Later on in the evening it said my name and the word "smile".  Sometimes the dead can chill us, make us laugh and touch our hearts. 

Amusing dead people aside, I also encounter many living souls who unwittingly provide some great entertainment.  I have witnessed a streaker, fighting couples who insult each other at a fifth grade level and obnoxious people having very loud and private conversations on their phone.  My favorite, however, is the drunk man who came up to interrupt my group four times to ask for a cigarette.  This man was clever; instead of coming up to me four different times as the same person, he approached me four times with a slightly altered appearance and voice.  This is how it went:

-Encounter number one-

Drunk man: Miss, do you have a smoke?

Me: No, sorry, I don't smoke.

Drunk man: Okay.

-Encounter number two-

Drunk man with a hat and higher voice: Ma'am, can I bum a cigarette off you?

Me: No, sorry, I don't smoke.

Drunk man with a hat and higher voice: Okay, sorry to bother you.

-Encounter number three-

Drunk man with hat on backwards and deep voice: Hey, uh, miss, do you have any cigarettes?

Me: No, sorry, I don't smoke.

Drunk man with hat on backwards and deep voice: That's cool.

-Encounter number four-

Drunk man with popped collar and southern accent: Miss, do you have any cigarettes?

Me: Let me get my phone.  It looks like I'll have to call the police again.

Drunk man with popped collar and southern accent: (walks away)

                     *********************

Harmless, memorable and great source of laughter for my group.  If I can leave my group having scared them and made them laugh at least once I consider it a night well spent.


Until next time,

~Story Siren