Dickinson College Humanities Program in Norwich

I have not had much experience with other religions besides various denominations of Christianity, so the recent visits to the Sikh and Hindu temples were eye-opening experiences for me.  My lingering feelings and perceptions of the two are strikingly different, even though I associate the two closely in my mind.  Because I don’t know much about Sikhism or Hinduism, their doctrines seem similar: live peacefully, teach future generations in a moral and religious way, and maintain a relationship with God.  The services, though, spurred entirely different reactions for me.

I found the Sikh temple to be comfortable and enjoyable.  I didn’t feel as though a lot was expected of members of their particular congregation (or me).  So many religions spend so much time outlining and detailing every aspect of how to be a “successful” follower of that particular sect, but this one felt much more relaxed.  More of a focus seemed to be put on finding a personal feeling of fulfillment rather than following specific doctrine or dogma.  For example, even though I am not Catholic I do attend mass frequently and help lead a Catholic youth group.  I know that part of being Catholic (for most parishes) involves carefully following a certain timeline: baptism as an infant, a CCD program during elementary/middle school, communion as a child, and so on.  In contrast, our guide said that there is no specific time to be welcomed into the Sikh family; rather, a child may join the congregation when he feels that it is appropriate, whether as a child, teenager, or adult. I enjoyed the personal emotion and experience that our guide shared in the talk, and I think it was wonderful that his job is not specifically that of a tour guide because it made him that much more believable.  Instead of a series of memorized facts, it felt much more individual and real.

That said, I felt a bit strange as a visitor in the temple.  I completely support going for the sake of learning and reflecting, but if I was a member of the congregation, I think I would look at our group almost as if we were mocking them.  Since they don’t normally do tours, I think having such a large group dressed in regular street clothes with scarves tossed on haphazardly outside the temple to cover our hair was borderline disrespectful.  I feel that smaller groups would have been more effective, since we would not be making such a spectacle of ourselves.

Again, the following is simply my personal reaction and is not meant to offend: I found the Hindu temple creepy and bewildering.  The most striking aspect, to me, was the ornate dolls (is there another term for them?) scattered throughout the temple. Given the nature of my religious upbringing, I looked at them as a form of idolatry.  I don’t understand the significance of them, nor do I understand how anyone has the authority to “put the spirit of God” into them.  I felt that the concept of one main guru to govern the entire Hindu population was strange and didn’t make sense.  How does he objectively know who the next authority should be?  If it is subjective, how can he be chosen by God?  What if a detrimental ruler is chosen?  How can people blindly trust one man when they do not know the logic behind his decisions?  I’m sure his followers find reasons to unquestioningly follow his choices, but I’m not sure that I would be able to.  Even a matter as small as the cost of the temple, shrouded as a secret, makes me uneasy.

Overall, I learned a lot but I think that my experience was certainly affected by my own religions upbringing and spiritual opinions.  I hope to learn more about the aspects of each temple that I did not understand, and am glad I had the opportunity to glimpse the way that such a large portion of the world’s population worships God.

So arriving in London two weeks ago I have dove into a world of museums, churches, and recognizable landmarks (some of these locations encompassing all three of these aspects; ie. Westminster Abbey/St Paul’s ). As I read my other classmates blogs about these locations I was less than inspired though to throw my two-sense into the conversation.  However after visiting the Sikh gurdwara I realized that discussing the architecture or the history of these churches was not what I was interested in.  Rather, my focus was on the spirituality and religious nature of these locations (or lack there of as the case may be).

I’d be crazy not to acknowledge Westmnister Abbey’s incredible architecture– the dedication to style as additions were made to the building, the multitude of famous persons from his or her particular field buried in the ground of the building.  I had the same reeling of awe walking around St. Paul’s Cathedral.  The detailed stained glass windows, the enormous dome, the ceremonial burial sites all over the building—they are images I will remember forever.  However, as I left both of those places I felt more like I was leaving a museum than a church.

Because of this feeling I decided to stay at St. Paul’s for evening song.  It was a beautiful service, but I continuously found myself distracted by the other tourists walking up and down the church looking at all of the graves.  I hoped that I would find myself in a state of spiritual prayer, but only found myself frustrated.  I had a similar reaction when I sat in on Holy Communion at Bath Abbey.  Sitting in another beautiful church, trying to take in and appreciate the holiest of sacraments and all I could focus on was the people going in and out of the attached gift shop.

While also in Bath I decided to wander down random alleys exploring the city.  It was here where I ran into St. John the Evangelist, a Roman Catholic Church.  Being the first Catholic church I had seen since arriving I decided to go in.  Assuming to find myself surrounded by graves and gift shops yet again, I was in disbelief to find myself in one of the most beautiful churches I have ever seen. No gimmicks. No crowds. Beautiful architecture. Amazing stained glass. And peace. I couldn’t even tell you how long I just sat there, engulfed in the church’s beauty and feeling of spirituality.

When I attended St. Patrick’s in SOHO for a service I hoped I would feel the same sense of peace I did in Bath, but was slightly disappointed not to.  I’m not sure why, but I’m hoping as I continue to investigate churches in both London and Norwich I will find a common thread in why I find some churches and temples more spiritual than others.

**I wrote this last night, and I thought it had posted. And now after visiting the Hindu temple I have even more thoughts on this subject, but will expand later. **

I believe Brandon and I have won the award for worst bird poop incident. Not only did we have bird poop on us the entire day, it was like freaking Niagara Falls bird poop, splattered everywhere….. and my sweater is dry clean only.. stupid bird.

When I first sat down to write this post, I thought my views on identity were simple. Simple meaning; you are who you are, don’t throw a fit, its easy, kind of simple. After I realized I had virtually nothing to write about, I figured I needed more time to allow myself to further my knowledge on what identity is.

This time around, after viewing what I though may help my argument, (the Sikh and Hindu Temples),  I have gained some understanding of what identity is.  It is apparent that, the search for and loss of identity reflects entire generations in the city of London. The book Salam Brick Lane is a perfect example of the diverse population attempting to search for a British identity while also trying to grasp their own at the same time.

It seems as though Londoners want immigrants to assimilate into their culture. Does this mean, then that once a man from India, of darker complexion, who works in the city, goes to fun pubs at night, and lives in an upscale neighborhood, in other words “assimilated”, can only identify now with British culture? For that matter, if one does do these things, is he/she unable to identify with their original culture?

The two temples we saw represent how immigrant populations have migrated to an area where they can openly worship a religion brought from another country. In these temples we saw people who practice a very strict form of both Hinduism and Sikhism but we also saw those who dare to use the term, “more westernized”. We see these people worshiping in street clothing and we know it is their choice, but how do they feel? Do they feel trapped within one culture, or do they feel as though they want both?

I guess what I am trying to argue is that identity can not be defined by another person. As a matter of fact, identity can just as easily never be defined. It is ones choice to have an identity and it is also their choice to not. The real issue involves the ways in which a country handles an immigrant populations decision to choose their identities meaning, they have to allow each individual to make the decision.

I am an America. I descend from Germany, Ireland, Scotland, and England, but me, myself, and I, am an America. But, if I ever choose to move to England or another country, I would hope that my identity would be at liberty to alternation based on who I want to be and who I choose to identify with.

“You’re sacred space is where you can find yourself over and over again.” (Joseph Campell)

The concept of space, so immense, so undefined. As intriguing as one may be with the notion of sacred spaces, either physical or internal, it is difficult to grasp the full idea of what it means to feel a part of a specific space, to immerse oneself in it.

As we entered the Gudwara, internally, I had just opened the door to a room of confusion, although physically I was right where I was supposed to be. The ability to learn extensively in moments of discomfort is something I attempt to take advantage of,  but for some reason I was unable to keep an open mind. Throughout our tour, I felt a sense of indifference, not just because I am not a religious individual in any way, but also because I like to keep myself at a distance from spaces that with hold religious power over a community. Surprisingly, my experience at St.Paul’s was not in any way similar to the Gudwara’s. At St.Pauls’ I felt as if I was entering a museum, a sacred place of historical exhibition instead of worship. In comparison to Westminster Abbey, St.Pauls’ was less scary (maybe because there aren’t 3000 bodies buried there).   I think tourism has completely changed the dynamic of these sacred spaces, converting them into exhibits for the general public.

So what differs a museum from a place of worship? In London, I think museums as well as churches are both worshipped in their own ways. We have visited multiple museums and various churches in our time in London, where I have realized that it takes more than just a space to create a place of worship, it takes the masses, the worshippers, to raise a space to a state of “holy-ness.” When we have class at the Victoria Gardens at Regents Park, the patch of grass surrounding us, the space chosen for our discussions is our sacred space for that moment; when we enter it, we become a part of it, not just literally but also metaphorically.

When we entered the Gudwara, most of us were encountered with unknown territory, strange feelings awakened. Although, this space was not at all a tourist attraction, our presence in that place made it feel like another museum exhibit, like something to study, observe and take notes on for future reference… not a place of sacred worshiping. Isn’t it interesting how this concept of space dominates our everyday lives, yet it is so undefined.

Indefinitely, whatever you’re sacred space is, make it yours. Personalize it, love it, breath it, worship it… define it for yourself, in the hopes that you’ll continue to find yourself in that place over and over again.

So this is an overdue post comparing our experiences at the National Gallery and the Tate Modern.

When we were climbing the steps of the National Gallery we were anticipating the beautiful pieces that would be displayed by world renowned artists. We were excited to see the works of Van Gogh, Da Vinci, Van Dyck as well as artists who are unfamiliar to us. While standing in front of Da Vinci’s Madonna and Child, observing his rather passionate and intricate work we felt a disconnect between our previous assumptions of how the work was suppose to affect us versus our actual interpretations. Based on our shared knowledge of these artistic “masterpieces” we hoped to feel the sense of awe. Although we were privileged to be viewing these works, we left feeling rather “eghhh” (for lack of a better term).

Our experience at the Tate Modern JUXTAPOSED our feelings of incomplete satisfaction at the National Gallery. We were immediately intrigued by the modern and uncommon artistic works. These revolutionized pieces made us question the true meaning of art. IN our interpretation of the works found at Tate, modern art in Britain completely attempts to move away from traditional, classical art found at the National Gallery. Although we do appreciate classical art, modern art speaks to us in a different form, and it relates to the ways in which we seek to see the rest of our society— in distinctive ways. The Tate Modern seems to be “pushing the envelope” when it comes to artistic expressions and we enjoy that sort of rebellious attitude.

Overall, art is an interpretation of the individual and it can exist in various forms. It is always inspired and interpreted.

On Wednesday September 2^nd, 2009 the Norwich Humanities group visited the East End, in particular, Brick Lane, and the surrounding area. Brick Lane’s history over the past 15 years had changed drastically. It has gone from a neighborhood of violence, drugs, and trash, to a respectable neighborhood. This area has seen drastic progress in this fifteen year period, but progress at the expense of who?

People always view progress as a positive thing, because, it means improvement for a community that means it.  What I have learned being in London, is that progress has the potential to be something great, but at the expense of who? Professor Qualls has made me realize these past few days, is that the concept of progress is something beneficial, to a specific group, but at the expense of who? In order for true progress to be made a specific group must pay. Looking at the east end, it is obvious that the area is becoming economically improved, but at the expense of the middle and working classes in the area. The area is beginning to see major improvements, in both the markets and financial district, but the lower classes are taking a beating, because soon they will not be able to afford the area in which they live, and will  be forced to move out. In essence this is progress in its truest form.  However, it felt surreal to be in an area in which we have read so much about, and viewing the drastic changes in the area, gave me a sense of joy, but this emotion was balanced with a sense of sadness because of the effects this had on the community.

We later travelled to St. Pauls’ lead by our fabulous tour guide John. John was our tour guide for the West Minster Abbey, and because he did such an amazing job, professor Qualls decided John was more than capable to lead us in this national land mark of London. Once we all had arrived John began speaking about the birth of the St. Pauls’ Cathedral and the route and the history of its name. One thing Jon said before entering that I didn’t agree with was when he said, “be mindful that this place is still a church so please be mindful.” Once I entered St. Paul’s cathedral, I immediately noticed the outrageous fee to enter this “church.” I could not help but see this ever apparent contradiction, in that museum cost money, and churches are supposed to be free. Not only that but the electronic tour guides, and the amount of people who just seemed interested in looking at its architecture rather than praising god could have not convinced me more, that this Cathedral had lost its “holiness” a long time ago, at least in my opinion. My perceptions of St. Paul as a tourist attraction, however, were nothing but positive. The architecture was beautiful, and its history was astounding. As I climbed the steps of St. Pauls’ I could not help but think that in the immediate future I would be on the top of the city.

Once I arrived the scenery was amazingly beautiful, I had never seen such an astounding sight. I was able to view London from an entirely different vantage point, and in doing so, I realized the true beauty of this chaotic city. I realized that, London, was the only city I have ever been to that had such an interesting personality, from the people, to its appearance, its multifaceted diversity was something that out of a book. It was something I will not soon forget!!!

A great perk about studying abroad in England is that you’re doing just that: studying. Everything we do is a learning opportunity. We constantly are taking note of the interactions between people, what groups of people are present in what area, and conversely what groups of people are absent from what areas. As much as I love this constant state of observation, I can’t help but wonder if sometimes I’m reading too much into situations. About three minutes ago when I started this blog, I planned to write on how different groups of people are treated differently throughout London. I still believe this is true. But in those three minutes, a wonderful thing happened. Space Jam came on! If you don’t remember, the movie involves Michael Jordan and Bugs Bunny saving the world from evil aliens. Talk about quality entertainment! Two children from London picked out the flick to watch before their bedtime and, being the mature people that we are, four of my fellow students and I are kindly decided to keep them company (while reciting our favorite lines right along with them). The children can’t be more than nine years old. We are all a little more than double their ages. Yet here we are all sitting around a television enjoying a Saturday night together. As this happens, I’m wondering: just how differently are separate groups of people in London? In its first couple scenes, Space Jam has told us that forced control over others is wrong, that stealing talents and goods from others is wrong, that everyone has something to learn from others, and that everyone has something to teach others- not too shabby for a movie that stars a basketball player and an animated rabbit.  On our visit to a gurdwara, we were told that those who followed  Sikhism believed in lifelong communal learning as well. I in no way mean to belittle Sikhism to the level of Space Jam. I do believe though that the people sitting in the lounge with me are listening to similar messages as those that are delivered in gurdwaras. With such similarities being apparent in mainstream culture and arguably a minority religious belief in London, the separation between these groups is sadly easy to recognize. This may seem paradoxical but I believe it makes sense. Clearly, the mainstream culture and minority cultures claim to believe in similar ideals: communal learning. Yet the London community is separated (making such learning difficult) based off of ethnicity, race, and class. How frustrating! I could understand if these groups’ core values or ideals were so conflicting that problems arose and, therefore, separation made a bit more sense.  But that doesn’t seem to be the case. Some sort of disconnect is present. A misunderstanding between cultures? A hypocrisy in one or both? What accounts for this separation?

There doesn’t seem to be easy answer. Our class discussions have tended to point the finger at the majority culture and for the most point I’ve supported that sentiment. But I don’t know if the answer is really that simple; that is, I don’t think that the mainstream culture holds 100% of the responsibility for the separation that exists between cultures. But Space Jam reminds us that we can all get along in the end if we just communicate with one another instead of ignoring how much we have in common and highlighting our differences. That’s not to say that our differences should be completely erased. The Sikhs have a beautifully unique lifestyle that, in my opinion, shouldn’t be ‘mainstreamed’. But to have a gurdwara all the way in Southall rather than have a felt presence in London, to have Brick Lane be a predominantly Bengali community with few other places in the city where such communities exist, basically to have a separated society is, to me, exactly opposite of what all of these communities teach. Maybe Michael and Bugs need to make another movie for this lesson to be learned. I know I would gladly spend another Saturday night learning from them. But my hope is that the lesson isn’t just taught. Clearly, that is already happening. The hope is that the lesson starts being learned and applied. Maybe I’m reading too much into Space Jam’s influence on London culture. But as a student who is always observing and studying what’s going on in my surroundings, I don’t entirely think that’s the case.

On Wednesday our entire class went on a walk of London’s East End. After reading a few books this Summer dealing with this part of the city I had a very narrow view of what to expect before going on the tour.  The East End is typically home to the most recent immigrant population of London which today is the large Bangladeshi community that has immigrated within the past 30 years. Most of the post colonial literature we read portrayed the east end and specifically Brick Lane as a dingy place where its inhabitants are trapped between their home culture and the culture of Great Britain. Often this leads to conflict and not the best living situation. 

After hearing all of this negative portrayal of the East End I was surprised once we got away from Liverpool Street Station to see a quiet, unobtrusive Brick Lane. Part of this could have been attributed to Ramadan taking place which nearly all of the East End Bangladeshis observe. That being said it was evident a lot had changed in Brick Lane over the past few years. It was noticable that the city had been putting in a strong effort to change the dynamic of the area.  As we concluded our walk and moved into a more well-off area near the Tower of London I realized that the image I had of the East End going into the tour was not close to what I had found. In fact the only thing that reminded me of the East End I read about was when I was riding west on the Central Line later that afternoon from Mile End to Bank and I noticed an incredible difference in the overall quality of  the  two Underground Stations. When hearing about Brick Lane I  had expected something more akin to East St. Louis but instead found something closer to East Dublin or East Carlisle. Sarah made a great point in class today that the Brick Lane area seemed to have a bit of a “hipster” feel to it. To go along with this  you’ll notice one of my hyperlinks above is connected to a series of restaurants on Brick Lane. Ten and maybe even five years ago this would never have happened.  Although there were signs of immigrant communities in Brick Lane they did not become extremely noticeable until we got to the Whitechapel area.  If Brick Lane is indeed becoming an area where the London mainstream is beginning to spend a good amount of time and money then where are the first generation immigrants being pushed to?  

On Thursday we got to observe another area of London where immigration was prevalent as we headed to Southall, home to a large Indian community. Unlike the East End my first impression of Southall was just what I expected it to be. Walking through the area I noticed a very diverse Indian community consisting of people dressed both in western attire and in traditional south Asian clothing. Along the walk I noticed a few Churches which told me that the community has assimilated into the greater British culture a little bit. After a few more minutes of exploration we arrived outside the Gurdwara Sri Guru Singh Sabha, put scarves over our heads and prepared to head inside. Upon entering the first thing I noticed were the separate areas for men and women to hand over their shoes and cleanse themselves before prayer. The only experience I had to compare this to was when I visited a mosque many years ago and the same process took place.  As we entered the main hall and waited  to begin our tour I took in my surroundings. There was a man writing Punjabi on a whiteboard and a collection of men women and children wandering throughout, praying and meditating but most of all staring at the group of 28 Americans standing in the middle of the Gurdwara. Eventually our guide Mr. Singh showed up and began to tell us all about the Gurdwara and about Sikhism. The main things that I gained and understood from his quiet, pensive voice is that Sikhism is a religion of love and a religion in which learning takes place throughout one’s entire life. No Sikh has all of the knowledge in the world and each member of the community has the ability to learn from each other and from God.  Mr. Singh was a very humble man and spent a lot of time continually apologizing to us that he was not a worthy guide. I sensed that humbleness is a quality found often within the Sikh religion. Although I felt slightly uncomfortable walking into the prayer room, bowing to the guru and heading back out I enjoyed my experience at the Gurdwara overall. The visit was capped off by a wonderful meal that was simple but nourishing, a metaphor of the Sikh religion as a whole.

On Friday as our class discussed the post-colonial literature we read I tried to find connections between our experience at the Gurdwara and the stories we read about.  None of the books we read featured a major Sikh character so it was hard to make a direct comparison. However, one thing that I noticed that seems to apply to all immigrant groups is that there are stark differences in how the first generation and second generation handle themselves in the community. In just about every immigrant population we’ve read about/observed here in London the first generation immigrants tend to want to hold on to their home culture/religion whereas the children of first generation immigrants try to fit in with the greater British culture a bit more. This only makes sense considering the majority of them are attending public schools with other children from different backgrounds and have no experience living in the place where their parents are from. I noticed in the Gurdwara that many of the children were dressed in more western garb and wore a dew-rag type of head covering instead of a traditional scarf. Also I did not see anyone at the Gurdwara that was a teenager. It seems to me that England is very similar to the U.S. in that religion is lost on a lot of young people. I’m curious to find out if this is true throughout the world.

Overall my readings of Post-Colonial literature and my visit to the Gurdwara taught me a number of things. The first is that it is impossible to predict exactly how an immigrant group will assimilate or whether they will at all. It is also difficult to predict how each generation will handle being in a new situation. Despite these unanswered questions I learned a lot from the books we read and through our visit to the Gurdwara. I know that this learning will continue as I spend more and more time in London and as I move on throughout life. Much like the Sikh religion, learning about immigration is a lifelong task.

Sir John Soane, R.A.

Yesterday afternoon we decided to walk to the Sir John Soane Museum rather than taking the tube. It was only a few blocks past the British Museum and I was able to see more of the Bloomsbury neighborhood. When we arrived at Lincoln’s Inn Fields, it was easy to spot. First of all, there was a queue of people outside the gates and second, who else would have caryatids on the façade of their house but a classics-loving architect? While I appreciated the concept of the museum, (Sir John wanted to leave his home as a showcase for his antiquities and works of art) I thought it was SO crowded with his artifacts that I could barely focus on the actual architecture of the house. It was like walking into an “Antiques Roadshow” dream house. Ironically, my two favorite rooms were the ones that contained the least amount of classical antiquities, the library and the upstairs sitting room. I loved looking through his books and his paintings (the Turner on the second floor is exquisite!) because I felt that was a better way to try and gage what kind of man Sir John was. You can tell a lot about a person by what he/she reads. I loved the yellow sitting room because it was whimsical and light in the midst of all the dark wood and ancient Greek artifacts. The stained glass and the bright saffron-colored walls provided a nice contrast against the rest of the museum/house. I imagine that Sir John’s wife had a hand in decorating this area (although I can’t be sure) and he left it this way after she passed away. I only wish that there had been some sort of guide that I could have used to navigate through the house or a curator I could have talked to. Obviously, Sir John loved classical sculpture and architecture, and his collection is truly impressive, but I would have liked to see more of the floor plan. Also, I wonder what Soane’s sons could have done to persuade him to even turn the home into a museum. On the homepage all it says is he was “deeply disappointed by the conduct of his two sons.” Any thoughts on that? I really enjoy exploring the places where people lived. It’s fascinating to me… What were they like? What was their daily schedule? What room did they spend the most time in? To any future visitors, make sure you venture down into the basement aka “the crypt” to check out the sarcophagus of Pharaoh Seti I. This is definitely a non-conventional museum. To be perfectly honest, what it lacked in curatorial flair, it made up for in dedication to preservation. The Sir John Soane museum was a welcome change from the halls of slick marble and crowds of tourists that have been a staple of the larger institutions. Sometimes it’s the places off the beaten track that make the biggest impression. While this museum was not my favorite attraction of London, It does showcase the importance of exploring the smaller, less popular areas. Next stop—Chancery Lane!

In our recent talk about the state of theatre in London, Rick Fisher described the different types of theatre that exist. From small plays run out of pubs to full-blown productions of the Lion King, Fisher claimed that it was in London that the art of theatre is truly living. Although I have only been to three plays so far in London, I would agree with Mr. Fisher’s claim. Although there are places like New York City that house both Broadway shows and those of lesser fame, the difference lies in how it is accessible to people. For ten and five pounds respectively, I was able to see two of Shakespeare’s works, All’s Well That Ends Well and Trolius and Cressida . These plays were not staged in some low capacity theatres as well, but the National Theatre and the re-imagined Globe Theatre. Can anyone even imagine paying so little to see a show at big name theatre in New York City? I didn’t think so. In their infinite wisdom, England subsidizes various theatres in order to encourage the art. While not everyone gets a piece of the pie, enough do to encourage new plays and possibly even innovations in theatre. Whether England and more specifically London does it is a matter of debate. Is it truly interested in helping develop the play as an art form, or is it instead purely a way to attract tourists to spend more of their money into an aspect of London? One option certainly seems to fit in with the pattern that London follows with most aspects of itself (rhymes with door-ism), but we should at least entertain the notion that there could be different intentions behind this, if only for a second.

My personal experience with London theatre is admittedly only limited to the more successful theatres (The National, The Globe, The Duke of York), yet I feel that in terms  of identifying a genuine tourist element, it is ultimately helpful. The answer is it turns out… is mixed. Or rather it tries to do both. Take the two Shakespeare plays for instance: Trolius and Cressida and All’s Well That Ends Well. All’s Well was almost completely true to the actual spoken word of the play, but reinvented the set and the stage arrangements for many of the scenes. Trolius on the other hand took a more traditional approach to the set and costume design, but took slightly more liberties in terms of the script. While this in both cases by itself is no grievous crime, Trolius did something that I’m not so sure I liked: made it too easy for people. Perhaps this is just the English major in me complaining, but in terms of Shakespeare, its difficulty of language is one of the most important parts of it. In the performance of Trolius and Cressida, the acting really left nothing to the imagination. Every piece of complicated acting was overacted to make it simple to understand, Characters were making comments of selling photographs and selling souvenirs in order to get a few cheap laughs, but worst of all, the actors and actresses acted out every single sexual innuendo. If there is one thing the Shakespeare was good at, it’s bending and molding words in order to make the raunchy mind of Shakespeare seemingly appropriate. However, this expert craft of words is lost when an actor points to every part of the body that he is referring to through metaphor. The audience in turn stops listening to what the actors are saying and instead depends on the visual cues from the actor in order to understand what part they should be laughing at. When people stop listening to the literary genius of Shakespeare, you know that something is wrong. I have no problem with helping the audience understand major plot points, but there has to be a line drawn as to what is made obvious. Otherwise the actors are doing the equivalent of explaining the punch line of a joke after you tell it: it makes the joke less funny.

(That all being said, Arcadia at the Duke of York was an excellent play that everyone should see)