I started my journey through London delirious from a lack of sleep, and ended my time there with an excess of everything. It felt like I was a tea cup poured over the brim every moment spent out in the bustling, thrumming city. Heading to Stratford-Upon-Avon was like finally pulling back on the hot water and putting in a tea bag. I’ve had time to brew upon my experiences, and had some new ones as well.
I don’t have a particular reverence for Shakespeare. I love his works, but I don’t feel culturally or historically drawn to the figure of Shakespeare himself. After visiting his grave, his home, and his birthplace, I feel more attached to the figure. I think my previous disdain comes from his cultural deification: he was just too big, too mainstream. But seeing his home reminded me how incredible it is that this one man wrote all those wonderful words. “This chair, that bed, and these wooden beams? All supported this guy you’ve learned about.”
It gave me 2 main insights into my reading of Shakespeare’s plays: 1. He was just a man, 2. He was pretty privileged. First, since I had never considered the man behind the words, I’ve never read Shakespeare and gone “ah, Shakespeare! You’ve done it again!” Instead, I saw the text as itself and left it at that. Now, I know what kind of historical lens has to be placed over the story. It really does help me to have seen this place and know the visuals that were in his mind at the time of writing. Second, he owned the largest house in town. He was married at an extremely early age, which could have left him jobless and destitute. Instead, he was supported in his artistic pursuits, and managed to find great success. I wonder how much of his success was due to the opportunities afforded to him. I wonder how many more opportunities I have been offered than the average, and how many I have failed to take.
We’re leaving today! Big metal bird what swooshes will return us home in comfort and style. In Shakespeare’s day? Getting here in the first place would have been a weeks long journey in the first place. Likely longer than the trip itself. Time and space have condensed. It takes less time to go much farther. How much denser can we compress time and space? Should we?
I enjoyed Stratford. It was a great transitional period of calm respite before the return. I got to eat good food, take long and beautiful walks, and read in the park. I even got to pet some cats at the Shakespaw Cat Café! Hamlet is pictured below. I’m ready to go home now. I started this journey wishing to expand my horizons, develop my artistic taste, and work on finding the core of myself. I absolutely shattered my horizons, I developed a taste for some strange and wonderful art, but I failed to find a core to myself. Instead of finding a core, I feel like I’ve taken my habitus and self-concept and strewn it about around me, picking it apart not in self-destruction but in reset, cleaning. Soon, now, in the comfort of home, I can put myself back together. Idealization is an impossible goal, but one still worth striving towards. I think this is progress.
Theatre in London U of A 