I can't get over how lucky I am to have these experiences. Even when I am am gnashing my teeth over my defense powerpoint (how do I condense 70 pages into 15 slides?!), I'm grateful for every second.
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My neighborhood in Montréal and Parc la Fontaine  
The Road to Québec City and Québec City
Parc National du Bic and the Premiere of Joséphine et les grandes personnes 
 -Excerpt from Une petite fête- Cabaret de la dissidence (The Little Cabaret- A Celebration of Dissidence) at Le Carrousel Hello everyone from Montréal. I’m sharing a snippet of the play currently being staged at my internship. I’ve been observing rehearsals of Une petite fête. I’ve also been writing my master’s thesis on theatre and social change- 13,000 words and counting. As usual, the world is both beautiful- red maple leaves! a trip to Toronto! - and sad. Though I didn’t know François Fouquerel as well as many at CLV, my thoughts are with his family and the many community members who will miss his mentorship and humor. It’s strange to think he won’t be in Lac du Bois’s kitchen next summer, sharing meals that remind him of his own French childhood, and taking his staff on picnics. I’m thinking also of other sadness in the world- brutal hurricanes caused by climate change, deadly wars, a genocide funded by our own government. I feel powerless, so privileged, sometimes hopeless. adrienne maree brown, a scholar of social change, writes, “The whole is a mirror of the parts. Existence is fractal- the health of the cell is the health of the species.” If the whole is a mirror of the parts, tiny changes radiate out into the wider world. Someone like François, who built community throughout his life, makes a small, important change. I’m trying to nurture hope in the small things, like supporting a play that encourages children to speak out and question authority, to dissent. I'm grateful for many opportunities and joys. Petit à petit, Miel
Featuring Radioactive Soup, Fairies, and a Cat Show Fairy drawn by Zé For anyone hoping to stretch their theatrical muscles during the pandemic, I suggest the following exercise: - Improvise a skit - With actors who aren’t in the same room as you - In French - On a Zoom call with 50 kids - Most of whom don’t speak French These are unusually specific limitations. But, as Chil Kong (Artistic Director of Adventure Theater) said at the DC Theatre Summit in January, narrow parameters produce innovative work. I saw this firsthand as a virtual French counselor at Lac du Bois this summer. Lac du Bois, an immersion program in northern Minnesota, uses performance as a language teaching tool. Theater is present in the skits that introduce the day’s menu, in the gestures used to teach songs, and in the over-arching simulation of the program itself. But the most traditionally theatrical moment of the day is Plaisirs d’amour, a “soap opera” performed by counselors in nightly installments. Anticipated by TV-starved campers and attention-hungry staff alike, Plaisirs d’amour has satirized movies and books, featured unforgettable characters and ridiculous plot lines, and ended since time immemorial with its actors jumping fully clothed into Turtle River Lake. It’s a treasured part of the day at Lac du Bois, and this summer we were faced with adapting it to an online format. Just as Kong predicted, narrow parameters spurred innovation for the team of writers and actors devising these virtual performances, which included my colleagues Vanessa, Zé, Marion, Benoît, Sebastien, Emmy, Eliénore, Issac, Edouard, Aurelie, Cécile, and Sido.
 Léa, a returning camper, enters her rabbit Kiwi into the virtual pet show. For the second and third episodes, I took advantage of the pre-recorded format to splice together a brilliantly improvised montage of the protagonist, Minou, training to enter the competition (Minou, it should be noted, was played by Zé, the same genius behind Dr. Ingrédients). For the final episode on Friday, campers entered their own pets, who danced to French music in their respective Zoom squares. Shockingly, Minou still topped the poll, with campers pointing out in the chat that he deserved the win due to his rigorous training regimen. Minou (played by Zé) trains for the cat show. Minou (Zé) and M. Moustache (Edouard) call a "human" guardian (Matilda and Sido). I co-wrote the final week of Plaisirs d’amour with Zé and Marion. Zé suggested that we play with scale and perspective, which we wouldn’t be able to do during an in-person session. This reminded me of the work of my college professor Natsu Onoda Power, who uses live video feeds of puppets in her plays. These ideas snowballed into a storyline involving fairies played by real people and puppets drawn by Zé, resulting in a toy theater extravaganza which eventually incorporated fire, tomato sauce, and a model volcano. I was so grateful to be making theater this summer, and I was energized by the many opportunities the virtual format provided. After months of mourning live performance, it felt good to make art with smart and creative people. In the next few months, should things go according to plan (which they don’t tend to do these days) I’ll be directing virtual scenes for Joy Zimmerman’s directing class at Studio Acting Conservatory and directing a virtual performance of A Doll’s House for Silver Spring Stage. If you had asked me before this summer, I would have been highly skeptical of these plans. But I’m happy to conclude that, though many things are bad right now, virtual theater isn’t always one of them. The Adventures of Cafeteria Written by me, Zé, and Marion, Puppets drawn by Zé Starring me, Benoît, Emmy, Eliénore, and Marion Additional puppetry and camerawork by Sébastien It’s September, and my time in Japan is almost over. |
 Maria, Satou-San, and Komada-San on our trip to Awaji Island |  Komada-San on our trip to Naoshima |
Thank you Tamai-San and Seinen-Za for giving me the opportunity to do the kojo and perform at the Awa Odori festival in Tokushima.
Thank you Jurobe-Za for being so patient with me as I learned Ebisu-Mai. Thank you for taking the time out of your days to teach me that funny little performance, and for encouraging me and laughing with me.
Thank you Hureai-Za for rallying to teach me Yayao Oshichi in just a few short weeks.
Thank you to all the members of Naruto-Za, for watching over me like mothers and grandmothers. For feeding me, for teaching me Japanese, for patiently rehearsing with me again and again, for saving newspaper clippings with my name, for supporting me in my efforts to learn Awa Odori and Ningyo Joruri. Special thanks to Midori-San, Namiki-San, Murakami-San, and Miori-San for all the extra time they put in to help me.
 Maria, me, Midori-San, Hattori-San, and Namiki-San at a farewell lunch |  The women of Naruto-Za in their puppet blacks |
Thank you Hattori-San. It’s impossible to express what this woman did for me. Starting on my first day in Japan, she patiently taught me Ningyo Joruri, unfazed by our language barrier. Everything I learned is thanks to a foundation of skills that she built, bit by bit, over the course of many private lessons. She lent me my puppet blacks, my water bottle, my dancing socks, my kimono, and a million other useful things. She drove me to my Awa Odori performances and helped me with my kimono every night. She is an expert puppeteer, puppet-carver, kimono-maker, and potter, and one of the most powerful and generous women I know.
Maria, Hattori-San, and me
Thank you Ya-Chan, Nao-Chan, Takuma-Chan, Ayami-Chan, Eri-Chan, Omar, Saki, Quan, and the other Claire for being such warm and wonderful friends.
Thank you to all the members of Uki Uki Ren who taught me Awa Odori and loved me like a sister.
Thank you to my parents for flying out to see my final showcase and for supporting me in this adventure and in all things.
Thank you to Martin-Sensei who made this life-changing experience possible.
 Me with Saki and Omar |  We celebrate Maria's birthday with Yayoi and her family |
Maria, Eri, Komada-San, and me on our trip to Naoshima
And finally, thank you Maria. Words do not do her justice. She housed me, fed me, drove me around, translated everything, helped me understand my schedule, taught me Japanese, traveled with me, and became my best friend. She has an unrivaled warmth and kindness, and I'm lucky to know her.
Celebrating Maria's birthday in Kobe
Parading down the street during the Awa Odori dance festival in Naruto
Awa Odori (Tokushima Dance) was one of the most rewarding experiences of my summer. While I participated in the downtown festival as a puppeteer, my highlight was dancing with Uki Uki Ren troupe in the small suburban town of Naruto.
In June, I practiced with Uki Uki Ren every Tuesday. Though women dance in both the male and female style, I chose the female style, Onna Odori. Every week, the Onna Odori dancers lined up in rows of three and practiced our steps in black platform sandals called geta, walking back and forth to the music of drums, stringed shamisen, flutes, and a bell called a kane. In July, we practiced twice a week and added deceptively challenging arm movements to the Onna Odori. The two women beside me in line quickly became my mentors, teaching me the choreography for our upcoming stage performance and street parade.
 Me wearing a dance kimono (with a fan tucked in the obi), and my straw cassa |  These two sisters stood next to me in line and became my Awa Odori mentors |
On August 8th, the best four days of my summer began. Hattori-San, the unflappable octogenarian who taught me the bulk of my puppetry skills, became my right-hand-woman. Every night, she strapped me into my dance kimono, fastening three layers of fabric to my body with what seemed like 100 clips, belts, and small pink ropes.
On the first night, I was paralyzed with fear during our onstage performance. Luckily, I had chances to improve. For the next three days, the dancers and musicians of Uki Uki Ren paraded down the crowded suburban streets of Naruto. It was so hot that women slipped ice packs and fans into the folds of their kimonos, sweating underneath their taco-like straw hats. I carried a towel and mopped my brow between dances, drinking beer from a refreshment cart wheeled by a team of hyper-organized dance moms.
The Onna Odori dancers of Uki Uki Ren
I packed my traditional white socks with cotton to soften the repeated blows of the geta, and woke up every morning determined to rest for the few hours before Hattori-San and I had to do it all over again. Though exhausted, I couldn’t help smiling as I wobbled down the street. By the end of the week, my form had improved remarkably. I grew close with the dancers in my troupe, who watched over me like so many sisters, mothers, and grandmothers. It didn't escape me how lucky I was to experience Awa Odori as a foreigner. A year ago, who could have predicted that I would be doing a 500-year-old dance on the streets of Naruto, Japan?
Multiple troupes (including Uki Uki Ren) dance together in the Naruto festival finale.
A few weeks after the festival ended, I danced one last time, performing with Uki Uki Ren at a hotel. My parents were visiting, and sat in the audience with Hattori-San and my host sister Maria. There were fewer dancers than usual, and I learned at the last minute that I would have to do choreography beyond walking in a straight line. I was terrified, but surprised myself by stepping in time without incident. Looking out into the audience, I saw that both Hattori-San and Maria were crying, and my heart almost burst.
Dancing onstage for my parents, Hattori-San, and Maria.
After our performance, my fellow troupe members showered me with hugs and goodbye gifts, my mother snapped pictures, and my teacher slipped my borrowed sandals back into my hands. I'm packing them into my suitcase tonight, and have no idea what I'll do with them, other than look at them and remember the time I ventured outside my comfort zone and found nothing but love, support, and sweat in the process.
I performed in my first Ningyo Joruri puppet show! And then because I am bad at blogging, I performed in three more and am just writing about it now.
So far, I’ve been in two scenes from the play Keisei Awa no Naruto. Ningyo Joruri performances often consist of a single scene- called a “dan.” It’s unclear whether the two performances from Awa no Naruto are separate or two consecutive parts of the same dan, but they tell the story of two parents, Jurobe and Oyumi, who are reunited with their daughter, Otsuru. In the first scene Otsuru happens upon her mother’s house while on a pilgrimage. Though Oyumi recognizes her, she decides to keep her identity a secret. This twenty-minute scene is performed daily at the Awa Jurobe Yashiki puppet theatre and museum. For my debut, I was the lead puppeteer for Otsuru, proving once again that I will always play a child and/or that my troupe recognized that I don’t have the arm strength to operate an adult puppet. I will be performing this scene again several times, culminating in a showcase at the end of August.
 Posing with troupe members, Maria, and my neighbor after my debut performance. |  Naruto-Za before my debut. |
The second scene takes place directly after the interaction between Oyumi and Otsuru. Oyumi changes her mind and decides to go after her daughter and tell her the truth. In the meantime, Oyumi's husband Jurobe runs into Otsuru and brings her back to the house. Desperate for money, Jurobe unknowingly kills his own daughter. His wife discovers the tragedy, but they have little time to mourn as they are immediately surrounded by brigands. I operated one of the one-man brigand puppets at the Summer Puppet Festival in Tokushima, which took place last weekend.
Operating a one-person puppet (the brigand on the right) in Keisei Awa no Naruto
Also at the Summer Festival, I had the opportunity to announce the title of the scene for a performance of Hidakagawa Iriai Zakura, a story in which a young woman turns into a snake in pursuit of the man she loves. The announcer, known as the kojo, is usually masked, but the troupe decided to leave my face uncovered, and I ended up on national television. Sadly, I forgot my gloves and my glaring white arms ALSO ended up on national television from backstage.
Doing the kojo for Hidakagawa Iriai Zakura
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My peanut butter crisis is over so here's some background information and an update on what I'm learning this summer.
Introduction to Ningyō Jōruri Puppetry:
This style originated in the 1600s and is also known as bunraku, which comes from the name of a particular troupe. Ningyō means puppet, while jōruri refers to the sung narration. During performances, the tayu (narrator) sits offstage, fully visible to the audience, reciting the entire play and using a different voice for each character. The narrator is accompanied by a musician playing a stringed instrument called a samisen.
Each puppet is manipulated by three black-clad, hooded puppeteers. The main puppeteer, the omo-zukai, operates the head and the right hand, the hidari-zukai operates the left hand, and the ashi-zukai operates the legs.
Puppet blacks, hood, and toe-socks:
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What I'm Learning on a Daily Basis:
I'm learning how to operate the kashira (head), hidari (left hand), and ashi (legs). I am also learning four different scenes with four different puppet troupes:
On Mondays, I rehearse with Jurobe-Za, operating the left hand of the god Ebisu in
Ebisu- Mai.
On Thursdays, I rehearse with Hureai- Za, operating the left hand of Yayoa Oshichi, who is rushing to prevent the death of her lover on a snowy night.
Learning to operate Oshichi's left hand:
On Saturday morning, I rehearse with Naruto-Za as the main puppeteer operating Otsuru, a
young pilgrim girl.
On Saturday evening, I rehearse with Seinen-Za, operating the feet of a puppet performing a traditional dance called Sanbaso.
Learning to operate the legs of a Sanbaso puppet:
Other Stuff I'm Doing:
Sushi dinner/hanging out with my 2-year-old Japanese tutor:
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Day trip to Awaji Island:
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Hiking Yama Inu Dake:
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Want more puppet and non-puppet content? Follow me on Instagram @clairederr
 Raw shirasu fish with raw egg. |  My beloved peanut butter. |