"I should go to ____ sometime." "Someday I'll ____." Yeah, most of us find ourselves saying these words for years before we finally do the things we talk about--if we even ever do. A couple of weeks ago I got to two more of my "I should" activities.
I'm in Downtown Phoenix often, but only one side of it. So I tend to just leave the things on the other side for later. These included the tour of the Orpheum Theatre and the Wells Fargo Museum. You'll also want to note that both of these are free, so all you have to pay for is parking. If it's worth it to you, you can also do Park & Ride and take the light rail in to save a little. Your $4 day pass will also let you get closer to any other museums you might want to see that day--if you want to make a full day out of it. The Rosson House, the Science Center, the Phoenix Art Museum, and the Heard Museum are just a few.
Orpheum Theatre tours are generally every other Tuesday at 12 and 1:30. Be sure and check the website to make sure you have the right day. The next tours will be on November 19th. You meet at the marquee to begin. Note that, like when you go to a show at the Orpheum, the entrance is not on the corner of the building; keep walking west. While some people (especially perhaps if you're visiting Phoenix) might want to go on the tour just to see the theatre, it's worth going even if you've been in before. I've been to a show there, but I still wanted to learn more.
The tour focused on the history and architecture. Our group was around ten to fifteen people. The tour moves from the lobby to the main seating area to the balcony. You have the chance, then, to sit in seats on both levels and compare where you might want to sit. Balconies always win for me--I get a better view. Then again, a taller person might find the Orpheum's balcony a little cramped and yet that person also would have a clear view sitting on the bottom because no one's head will block their view. One of my favorite parts of the tour? Behind the scenes. We saw the area where performers would get ready to go on stage, the green rooms, and the stage. You can read up on history, but only by going on a tour like this can you stand on the stage (unless, of course, you're a performer, but most of us aren't).
Two practical notes. I'd thought that the tour was an hour (and I heard others say the same), but it was almost two. So plan for that. It was also very cold, so if you're a thin-blooded Arizonan like me, maybe bring a sweater.
The Wells Fargo Museum is just a step away, so it makes for the perfect before or after tour activity. If you just walk through, sure, you can be done in five minutes. But if you read everything, you can be there from half an hour to an hour. They have a few pieces of art and artifacts to look at and some interactive activities. If you go with kids (or you're an adult who likes to play, too), they'll love the phones and telegraphs. It's a nice little opportunity to get a glimpse back into the prairie days.
So there you have it. There is always more to do, more to see, even right where you are. Even the little things, the things that might not take up much time and that we therefore don't set aside time for, are worth seeing and worth doing. Let's keep exploring.
Showing posts with label Orpheum Theatre. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Orpheum Theatre. Show all posts
Monday, November 11, 2019
Monday, January 15, 2018
The Magic of Opus Cactus
I'm living through this magical phase right now. I'm always busy doing something and I'm nearly always thrilled about where I am. Life is shiny.
For instance, Saturday I rushed home to take a quick half hour to change clothes and eat before heading downtown for Ballet Arizona and the Desert Botanical Garden's presentation of Opus Cactus. Though 7:30 suddenly felt like much later in the evening than it perhaps should, I felt like I was sitting in a dream there in the theatre, like I was drifting through an ethereal ending to an awesome day (part of what made the day awesome was that I pet a beautiful alligator, but that's another story).
So what was this Opus Cactus? Initially I thought it would be one of the performances to skip (I don't, after all, aim to see every production from Ballet Arizona). Then I allowed a second glance and realized that it's a show inspired by the desert and that's exactly the type of thing I say I love and want to support. Though the show was presented by Ballet Arizona, the performance was put on by MOMIX, which is a touring company under the direction of Moses Pendleton. So it wasn't exactly ballet; the style was more modern, I would say, but not exactly "modern." More like dance with a twist of Cirque du Soleil, actually.
There were a series of scenes that played out essentially as separate tableaus, each one representing something about the desert. We started with Desert Storm, where tumbleweeds bounced about the stage. We saw saguaros and snakes and lizards and representations of the sun. So everything had a poetic quality to it that formed a celebration of not just the Southwest but also other deserts in the world. The music, likewise, began with Southwest inspiration and moved on, in later scenes, to include other music from around the world. Such sounds also combined the traditional and the modern.
Let me get back to that Cirque du Soleil reference. The MOMIX dancers are amazing. Such strength and agility and ease of movement. They were literally forming the shapes of the desert with their bodies. Often a scene would start with just silhouettes; the lighting might later increase so that you could then see the people in costumes, or sometimes the light stayed dim enough that all you saw were silhouettes. Either way, the visual scene was carefully controlled. When you're watching in awe of what bodies can do and how they can move and work together, the general feel of a dance tends to be sensual. But somehow this all felt like such high art that that it wasn't sensual at all: you became aware of, for instance, how one person was holding up another to form a shape and yet the effect was simply awe at the shape rather than focus on the two people. If that distinction makes sense. The point is, yes, it enhances the experience to realize how the dancers, as people, are moving. But the images that they are creating are the most important thing that you see on the stage--and they're images of plants and animals, desert imagery, not imagery of people.
Some scenes I liked more than others. And sometimes I wished that instead of seeing separate tableaus (the show was short compared with what I'm used to at only about an hour and a half), we were seeing more of a complete and connected piece. But overall it was such an amazing performance and visual image that it turned out to be one of my favorite shows from the past year.
And what made the evening more magical was the fact that it was not in the usual Symphony Hall but rather down the street at the Orpheum Theatre. This was my first time at this theatre, and I do admit that I found the inside layout a bit confusing at first (I like to always know where exactly I'm going, so it throw me off when I enter a new place where the layout isn't immediately clear). It's a much smaller location than Symphony Hall and has a completely different style. This theatre, outside and then both in the halls and in the theatre itself, is beautiful. The peacock ceiling above the farther staircase and the art nouveau (at least, that's the style it looked like to me) wardrobe and oil paintings upstairs and the chairs in the downstairs bathroom and the dusky, starry sky in the theatre. So many details all around to look at and take in; I can see why there are tours of the theatre during the day. Maybe because of the setting, I almost felt like people were more dressed up here than they are for the ballet or opera at Symphony Hall. Even if that difference was just my imagination, I felt at home in the beauty of it all.
Petting an alligator at work and then dressing up in green sequins to watch dancers imitating the movement of a gila monster. What a day, eh?
For instance, Saturday I rushed home to take a quick half hour to change clothes and eat before heading downtown for Ballet Arizona and the Desert Botanical Garden's presentation of Opus Cactus. Though 7:30 suddenly felt like much later in the evening than it perhaps should, I felt like I was sitting in a dream there in the theatre, like I was drifting through an ethereal ending to an awesome day (part of what made the day awesome was that I pet a beautiful alligator, but that's another story).
So what was this Opus Cactus? Initially I thought it would be one of the performances to skip (I don't, after all, aim to see every production from Ballet Arizona). Then I allowed a second glance and realized that it's a show inspired by the desert and that's exactly the type of thing I say I love and want to support. Though the show was presented by Ballet Arizona, the performance was put on by MOMIX, which is a touring company under the direction of Moses Pendleton. So it wasn't exactly ballet; the style was more modern, I would say, but not exactly "modern." More like dance with a twist of Cirque du Soleil, actually.
There were a series of scenes that played out essentially as separate tableaus, each one representing something about the desert. We started with Desert Storm, where tumbleweeds bounced about the stage. We saw saguaros and snakes and lizards and representations of the sun. So everything had a poetic quality to it that formed a celebration of not just the Southwest but also other deserts in the world. The music, likewise, began with Southwest inspiration and moved on, in later scenes, to include other music from around the world. Such sounds also combined the traditional and the modern.
Let me get back to that Cirque du Soleil reference. The MOMIX dancers are amazing. Such strength and agility and ease of movement. They were literally forming the shapes of the desert with their bodies. Often a scene would start with just silhouettes; the lighting might later increase so that you could then see the people in costumes, or sometimes the light stayed dim enough that all you saw were silhouettes. Either way, the visual scene was carefully controlled. When you're watching in awe of what bodies can do and how they can move and work together, the general feel of a dance tends to be sensual. But somehow this all felt like such high art that that it wasn't sensual at all: you became aware of, for instance, how one person was holding up another to form a shape and yet the effect was simply awe at the shape rather than focus on the two people. If that distinction makes sense. The point is, yes, it enhances the experience to realize how the dancers, as people, are moving. But the images that they are creating are the most important thing that you see on the stage--and they're images of plants and animals, desert imagery, not imagery of people.
Some scenes I liked more than others. And sometimes I wished that instead of seeing separate tableaus (the show was short compared with what I'm used to at only about an hour and a half), we were seeing more of a complete and connected piece. But overall it was such an amazing performance and visual image that it turned out to be one of my favorite shows from the past year.
And what made the evening more magical was the fact that it was not in the usual Symphony Hall but rather down the street at the Orpheum Theatre. This was my first time at this theatre, and I do admit that I found the inside layout a bit confusing at first (I like to always know where exactly I'm going, so it throw me off when I enter a new place where the layout isn't immediately clear). It's a much smaller location than Symphony Hall and has a completely different style. This theatre, outside and then both in the halls and in the theatre itself, is beautiful. The peacock ceiling above the farther staircase and the art nouveau (at least, that's the style it looked like to me) wardrobe and oil paintings upstairs and the chairs in the downstairs bathroom and the dusky, starry sky in the theatre. So many details all around to look at and take in; I can see why there are tours of the theatre during the day. Maybe because of the setting, I almost felt like people were more dressed up here than they are for the ballet or opera at Symphony Hall. Even if that difference was just my imagination, I felt at home in the beauty of it all.
Petting an alligator at work and then dressing up in green sequins to watch dancers imitating the movement of a gila monster. What a day, eh?
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