Showing posts with label Royal NZ Ballet. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Royal NZ Ballet. Show all posts
Wednesday, 17 May 2017
Saturday, 25 March 2017
Carmen
Thanks to the God of Media Tickets, we are going to the RNZB's acclaimed performance of Carmen tonight at the St James Theatre.
I'm still fighting jet lag but am sure a bunch of beautiful lithe young things in lycra flinging themselves across the stage will wake me up!
(Pic credit: Ross Brown/RNZB)
I'm still fighting jet lag but am sure a bunch of beautiful lithe young things in lycra flinging themselves across the stage will wake me up!
(Pic credit: Ross Brown/RNZB)
Labels:
Carmen,
RNZB,
Royal NZ Ballet,
St James Theatre
Thursday, 11 August 2016
Tuesday, 19 April 2016
The Wizard of Oz
I spent this morning in the bowels of the Royal New Zealand Ballet's changing/make-up room, interviewing the three young dancers who play Dorothy in the upcoming production of The Wizard of Oz.
And, dammit, I had to turn down freebie tix as I will be out of the country.
But if you are lucky enough to be in Aotearoa in May/June, do check out this production. It looks simply gorgeous.
And, dammit, I had to turn down freebie tix as I will be out of the country.
But if you are lucky enough to be in Aotearoa in May/June, do check out this production. It looks simply gorgeous.
Thursday, 20 August 2015
Dumpster diving
I once flatted with an Irish guy in West London whose hobby was to neck as many pints as he could afford and then indulge in a spot of dumpster diving on the way home.
We would often wake on a Saturday morning to all manner of flotsam and jetsam in the hallway - including, one particularly memorable time, a stuffed (fake) elephant head that was as almost as big as our living room. We figured it must have been a prop from the BBC TV studios down the road.
That memory reached across the years to me last night when I was walking Bristol and spotted this very cool old hospital trolley in the dumpster across the road. Of course I asked the owners if I could have it and then roped the Animator into trying to drag it out in the dark and rain. He wasn't impressed, especially when it turned out to be too wedged in by other crap to be easily retrieved. It was with a heavy heart that I admitted defeat and went home.
Today, the owner texted me to say her father would fish it out for me. Which he kindly did. So when I got home there it was. All it needs is a bit of a clean and the top shelf popped back in and I have myself a fabulous vintage trolley.
Now I just need to decide whether to keep it here or truck it up to the bach. First world dilemmas.
And I must take the owner a good bottle of red too.
Doing the happy dance today. Speaking of dance, we are off the the opening night of the Royal NZ Ballet's performance of A Midsummer Night's Dream tonight. Gotta love those media tix.
We would often wake on a Saturday morning to all manner of flotsam and jetsam in the hallway - including, one particularly memorable time, a stuffed (fake) elephant head that was as almost as big as our living room. We figured it must have been a prop from the BBC TV studios down the road.
That memory reached across the years to me last night when I was walking Bristol and spotted this very cool old hospital trolley in the dumpster across the road. Of course I asked the owners if I could have it and then roped the Animator into trying to drag it out in the dark and rain. He wasn't impressed, especially when it turned out to be too wedged in by other crap to be easily retrieved. It was with a heavy heart that I admitted defeat and went home.
Today, the owner texted me to say her father would fish it out for me. Which he kindly did. So when I got home there it was. All it needs is a bit of a clean and the top shelf popped back in and I have myself a fabulous vintage trolley.
Now I just need to decide whether to keep it here or truck it up to the bach. First world dilemmas.
And I must take the owner a good bottle of red too.
Doing the happy dance today. Speaking of dance, we are off the the opening night of the Royal NZ Ballet's performance of A Midsummer Night's Dream tonight. Gotta love those media tix.
Friday, 1 May 2015
A day of dance
Today I'm all about those wonderful people who make a living from their bodies, bringing us lumpy peasants beautiful works of art.
First up is an interview with Deirdre Tarrant, the remarkable founder of Footnote Dance Company, which celebrates its 30th anniversary this year. I interviewed the mother of Flight of the Conchords' Bret McKenzie years ago for a feature for Sunday Magazine and she was all kinds of fun. Am looking forward to it.
Straight after, I will sit down with Francesco Ventriglia, the new artistic director of the Royal New Zealand Ballet, for another story. As the pics below show, Ventriglia could quite easily moonlight as an Armani model. Sometimes, just sometimes, it's good to be me.
(Pic credit: Google Images)
First up is an interview with Deirdre Tarrant, the remarkable founder of Footnote Dance Company, which celebrates its 30th anniversary this year. I interviewed the mother of Flight of the Conchords' Bret McKenzie years ago for a feature for Sunday Magazine and she was all kinds of fun. Am looking forward to it.
Straight after, I will sit down with Francesco Ventriglia, the new artistic director of the Royal New Zealand Ballet, for another story. As the pics below show, Ventriglia could quite easily moonlight as an Armani model. Sometimes, just sometimes, it's good to be me.
(Pic credit: Google Images)
Wednesday, 4 March 2015
Wednesday, 22 October 2014
A day of interviews
It was all about the Royal NZ Ballet today and their upcoming production of A Christmas Carol.
First up was an interview with the English Producer, over here for six weeks, and then a chat with the principal dancer for one publication. A few hours later, I came back to chat to a couple of 10-year-olds (and their mothers) who are playing Tiny Tim for a magazine story. It's a good thing I live nearby.
I was more than ready for a drink by 6.00pm.
First up was an interview with the English Producer, over here for six weeks, and then a chat with the principal dancer for one publication. A few hours later, I came back to chat to a couple of 10-year-olds (and their mothers) who are playing Tiny Tim for a magazine story. It's a good thing I live nearby.
I was more than ready for a drink by 6.00pm.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)







