(Continued from p. 7 - India)

Theatre, a large, flexible black box. These sessions expanded and tested the work done in the studio, allowing breath and individual voices, as well as the collective voice of the group, to fully inhabit and energize the space. Participants whispered, chanted, sang, and danced Shakespeare text, occupying every possible space in the theatre, separating and coming together at Andrew's direction. The workshop culminated with an open evening session in this same space. While not a performance, this open work session (attended by a full house) gave the group the opportunity to experience the pressure of an audience and its effect on their newly acquired vocal awareness. A question-and-answer period afterward gave the participants the opportunity to educate the assembly vis-a-vis voice work and to articulate their responses to Andrew's work in particular. As there is no formal voice and speech training tradition in India, those attending the session were curious, surprised, and even nonplussed. Andew and I often remarked on the need for voice work in a place like India where sheer numbers of people, the unceasing din and lack of open space make finding a voice, having a voice and using a voice a necessity.

During a wrap-up session the next day he took time to review the activities and main points of the previous two weeks, giving the group a chance to take notes for continued exploration. The group has resolved to continue meeting on a weekly basis, while hoping to organize further workshops with Andrew and additional voice trainers. Although Mumbai is the film capital of India, there exists a vital coterie of artists in the community committed to live theatre who are dedicated to bringing quality voice and text work to the Mumbai stage.

Two nights after the close of the workshop, when Andrew had already departed for the U.K., I had the pleasure of attending a performance of ROMEO AND JULIET directed by workshop participant Vickram Kapadia, which featured two other participants, Karla Singh and Kitu Gidwani. I was vastly impressed by the creative direction, the imaginative use of the space, and the throbbing immediacy of the production. Many of the performances were credible and moving. It was a pleasure to hear the language spoken without the artificial poetic voice which is the chronic failing of some actors. The words of this production, spoken by real people dealing with real conflicts, vibrated with an immediacy both urban and ethnic. Their bold, bravura Indian English brought Shakespeare's words to life anew for a contemporary audience.

It so happened that at this time the R.S.C. touring company of A Comedy of Errors visited Mumbai, and Andrew and I attended the performance. Beforehand he conducted a warm-up for the company, composed of actors he had never met. With their permission

>>

I observed the warm-up, something I was unable to do in Stratford-upon-Avon as company warm-ups are, rightly, closed sessions. One of the questions that Andrew is often asked by workshop participants is what exactly he does with actors in the R.S.C. company? He always responds that, with obvious adjustments, he does exactly what he does in the workshop setting. Having witnessed the warm-up I can attest to the truth of this. He led the group through a light, energizing sequence of floor breath work, stretching, vowel sounds, physical limbering and textwork on a brief poem which had no particular connection to the Comedy of Errors text. The actors were quite grateful for the work, fresh from the rigors of touring and playing in countless unfamiliar theatres.

Andrew and I were both interviewed for a television spot on the workshop. The interviewers asked Andrew to define voice work and to say why he had come to Mumbai. I noted his answers which are worthy of inclusion here: "I was a quiet, inarticulate child lacking confidence. I met a wonderful woman who immersed me in Shakespeare...Voice work defines our confidence with language. Children are disempowered by the authority of language...It's to find our voice and make it as interesting as the language we're working with...If you lose your voice you lose identity of self...Confidence with language is the right of the human being...How do we enter language which isn't our own?...It's relaxation, breath, energy, voice quality, a voice that sits in us, on our own terms...It's what a voice is doing that makes it live...A physical connection to speaking, a physicality in language; speaking is a release, and physical, even if you have to be completely still when you speak...We must be curious when we speak...If we don't practice breathing, we're imposing our own pattern...Pronunciation is never wrong - it's the energy of the word that counts...Pressure an actor to be exciting, to be interesting, to be a character, and they get physically tense. There are blocks."

The next day I departed Mumbai on the feast of Holi, a holiday when groups of young people roam the streets throwing paint onto passersby and into the Arabian Sea. As I was driven to the airport by one of the workshop participants we saw that the shallows had turned red, blue, and then purple as a group of boys splashed around in the water. We narrowly avoided coloration ourselves as another group of boys in a van attempted to throw blue paint into our car.

I arrived back in Stratford exhausted, a bit ill, and overwhelmed by what Ihad learned. I devoured a sacramental roast turkey dinner with reverence.

Andrew joked six weeks later that it was only just then that he could enjoy "a really good curry."

Now, back at work in Virginia two years later, I am grateful for my sabbatical experience and for the three thick notebook-chronicles I amassed. Two of these are devoted to the India experience. Better than textbooks, they are active learning manuals I consult again and again and again.