by Polaroid 41
Polaroid 41 - English / Français These short podcasts are part of the Polaroid 41 project. Imperfect snapshots, stolen moments: a polaroid, a text, a minicast. Ces podcasts très courts font partie de "Polaroid 41." Instantanés imparfaits, moments volés : un polaroid, un texte, un audio. Find us at: www.polaroid41.com
Language
🇺🇲
Publishing Since
8/6/2020
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October 20, 2021
<p>http://polaroid41.com/ten-years/</p> <p>Sunday, October 17th, 2021 - 10:26am.</p> <p>I got my first passport in a rush at age 16. My high school German class was doing an exchange with a high school near Stuttgart. My family had signed up to host students, but I had opted out of the three-week trip. I couldn’t imagine going so far away for so long. At the last minute, one of my classmates dropped out, a spot became available at a reduced rate, and my mom said: “Tina, you’re going!” She’d never been abroad herself and she knew it would be an enriching experience for me. We dashed to the courthouse in Mankato to request a passport, we paid extra to get it fast, and I learned the word “expedited.” It all seemed very exciting and grown up.</p> <p>That trip to Germany was my very first stamp in my passport, my first transatlantic flight and my first time traveling without my parents. At least I was familiar with flying from various family trips to California, Florida, and the East Coast. Many of my classmates from rural Minnesota had never even been on a plane before. We were all buzzing with excitement, and though the exchange soon became a school tradition, we were the very first ones to go. That was 25 years ago now, but I still have vivid memories. Some are just flashes or sensations that are hard to put into words, but they’ve stuck with me all this time: discovering UHT milk that didn’t have to be refrigerated before opening, hearing Radiohead for the first time on German MTV, the feeling of the car flying at top speed along the autobahn, sleeping under a thick comforter without a flat sheet layered underneath, eating warm soft pretzels from the stand outside the high school, meeting up in the evenings at the ice cream shop, going to my first discotheque. My host family lived in an apartment, which seemed very exotic to me, and it was my first time being welcome into a foreign home, a non-American family. I was struck again and again by how much independence the German high schoolers had, how grown up they seemed. Of course, while they were in Minnesota, they all marveled at the fact that we could drive at age 16, at how big and ‘American’ everything was.</p> <p>I wonder sometimes at the real significance of that trip. If I hadn’t gone, I wonder if I ever would have done study abroad in college, if I ever would have started my love of affair with Europe and traveling, if I ever would have wound up living in France.</p> <p>I was under 18 when I got that first passport, so it was only valid for 5 years. I remember going to renew it when I was 21 in Iowa City. I’d been up late the night before, busy falling in love with a new boyfriend. In the photo I look a little sleepy, dazed, love struck. My hair is very long and wavy, I’m wearing a floaty green hippie tank top from the Peaceful Fool and a necklace with a jade stone. I remember thinking: “Where will I go with this passport? I’ll be over 30 when I renew it. What will life be like?”</p> <p>...</p> <p>The complete 'polaroid' - text, minicast and polaroid photo - available at: http://polaroid41.com/ten-years/</p>
October 6, 2021
<p>http://polaroid41.com/rockstar/</p> <p>Mardi 5 Octobre 2021, 10h41.</p> <p>« Knocking on heaven’s door » pendant que je préparais mon café du matin. Ça m'a surpris parce que la radio que j’écoute ne diffuse que très rarement de la musique. Et puis cette reprise du titre de Bob Dylan par Bryan Ferry, et ben c’était vachement chouette. Alors je me suis mis à chantonner. Les paroles me sont revenues assez facilement. Quand j’étais adolescent, la version de Guns N’ Roses cartonnait. On l’entendait partout, tout le temps. Dans mon premier groupe, Youngblood (ça ne s’invente pas), c’était un peu notre tube, suivi de près par Hey Joe de Jimi Hendrix. Il faut dire qu’on avait notre propre guitar hero. J’avais quatorze ans, lui quelques années de plus et un degré d’engagement dans la religion Rock bien supérieur au mien. S’il estimait que le concert était bon, arrivé sur le morceau d’Hendrix, il terminait son chorus de guitare avec les dents, comme l’idole, puis aspergeait sa guitare d’essence à Zippo et y mettait le feu. Un petit feu certes, mais quand même… Bref, je repense à tout ça en chantonnant Knocking on heaven’s door. Ma fille se marre de me voir chanter et s’étonne que je connaisse les paroles d’une chanson, qui n’ait pas l’air d’une chanson de vieux, une chanson ringarde. Alors on se marre tous les deux et je lui raconte rapidement l’histoire.</p> <p>— J’étais batteur, tu sais, c’était mon métier jusqu’en 2012. Dans mon premier groupe, on jouait ce morceau. Je me souviens très bien de l’été 1992, l’été de mes quinze ans, et de la tournée du groupe dans les Landes : Vieux-Boucau, Contis, Souston… Je pensais que la gloire était à portée de main, que veux-tu…</p> <p>Alice sait plus ou moins tout ça, mais elle paraît surtout étonnée d’apprendre que j’aie pu avoir quinze ans, l’âge qu’elle aura l’an prochain.</p> <p>— What ?!? Tu partais en tournée à quinze ans ?</p> <p>— Ben ouais, on avait acheté un fourgon, un J9 qu’on avait entièrement repeint en violet, et tapissé de moquette rose à l’intérieur. Le bassiste du groupe était le seul à avoir le permis, et on a pris la route. C’était chouette.</p> <p>Ma fille me regarde maintenant comme si je lui annonçais que j’avais un passé de junkie ou l’habitude de dormir dans la rue à son âge.</p> <p>On termine le petit déjeuner, on monte à l’étage réveiller les petites sœurs. Ne pas perdre de temps, nous sommes lundi, c’est matin-shampooing pour tout le monde, même pour celles qui ont les cheveux très très longs. Damned…</p> <p>Alice leur lance :</p> <p>— Papa c’était une rockstar à mon âge ! Il partait en camion jouer dans des bars la nuit! Comment il s’appelle déjà le morceau qu’on a entendu ‘pa ?</p> <p>Pour le coup c’est moi qui explose de rire.</p> <p>— Je n’étais pas une rock star, Zouzou, je jouais simplement de la batterie dans un groupe de rock… Zouzou… Et le morceau s’appelle Knocking on heaven’s door.</p> <p>Les deux frangines encore pleines de sommeil veulent maintenant des détails.</p> <p>— C’est vrai ? Et c’est quoi cette chanson Nocky eve bidule ?</p> <p>Ok. J’ai compris. Je lance Youtube et tape Knocking on heaven’s door - Guns N’ Roses.</p> <p>Anouk n’en revient pas.</p> <p>— Mais non ?!? Tu jouais ça toi ?!?</p> <p>— Ben oui.</p> <p>— Quand t’avais l’âge d’Alice ?</p> <p>— Ben oui.</p> <p>— Ah ouais d’accord… Mais là, c’est pas toi à la batterie ?</p> <p>— Ben non, là c’est le vrai batteur du groupe Guns N’ Roses....</p> <p>...</p> <p><br> Polaroid intégral (photo, texte et audio) disponible sur : http://polaroid41.com/rockstar/</p>
October 6, 2021
<p>http://polaroid41.com/all-the-worlds-a-stage/</p> <p>Sunday, October 3rd, 2021 - 8:28pm.</p> <p>I love stories. This means in addition to loving theatre, I love books, movies and even certain TV shows. I’m in it for the stories, so why is theatre my medium? I’m currently reading ‘The Vanishing Half’ by Brit Bennett, and I just came across a passage that resonated with me about a young actor leaving LA to try her luck in the theatre scene in New York. The passage reads: “She was still trying to find her first acting gig then, and nobody understood why she left Los Angeles to do so. But she liked the stage. In Los Angeles, every actor she knew was obsessed with breaking into Hollywood, because anyone with sense knew that was where the money was. But that whole process seemed like a drag. Waking up at dawn, standing in front of a camera for hours, repeating the same lines until some asshole director was satisfied. The stage was something else altogether - new every time, which terrified and thrilled her. Each show was different, each audience unique, each night crackling with possibility.” I enjoy film work, but this resonates deeply with me as an actor. It also resonates with me as an audience member. I’ve written before about studies showing that while watching live theatre, audience member’s heart rates synchronize. The moment in the theatre is unique and shared, and you’re either there for it, or you’re not.</p> <p>Since I got back from Minnesota at the end of August, I have been seeing a lot of shows. I’ve felt a bit starved after a year and a half of limited (or no) access to live performance, and I’ve been making up for lost time. In just over a month I’ve attended several concerts including a jazz trio, a brass band, an electronic DJ set and a quartet playing along to a giant projection of a graphic novel. I saw a three-hour cabaret about love, a musical reading of Woody Gutherie texts, a one woman show where she played 8 different characters, three women who gave a biting fake conference on female sexuality, an immersive piece with modern dancers and solo performances by seven ‘creatures of love and desire,’ a one-man review of news and current events from the summer, a modern dance duo, a presentation of a work-in-progress by a prominent local company, a visually stunning circus piece about finding your inner animal, a circus piece about surveillance culture, and another a circus piece with a social and environmental slant featuring 8 professional tightrope walkers, 8 child amateur performers, a musician and a vocalist.</p> <p>...</p> <p>The complete 'polaroid' - text, minicast and polaroid photo - available at: http://polaroid41.com/all-the-worlds-a-stage/</p> <p><br></p> <p><br></p>
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Polaroid 41 - English / Français
These short podcasts are part of the Polaroid 41 project. Imperfect snapshots, stolen moments: a polaroid, a text, a minicast.
Ces podcasts très courts font partie de "Polaroid 41." Instantanés imparfaits, moments volés : un polaroid, un texte, un audio.
Find us at: www.polaroid41.com
This podcast updates daily.
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