I love children. My favorite adults all healthily nurture their inner-children--they still allow the world to be new. It has worked out, then, that every play I've been in for the past 2 years has been aimed at our younger, wonder-filled selves.
I did not seek this particular line of work. Not at first. But it sought me, in the form of a New York City director/teacher/friend some years ago. She wanted to create an interactive storytelling experience for children that involved songs, stories and playground games from many cultures. She hand-picked about a dozen collaborative actors with diverse backgrounds. One of the lucky few chosen alongside me is now one of my bosses in another state. Also during those New York years, and thanks to that same wonderful director/teacher/friend, I found myself doing staged readings of new plays for young audiences. Both times I was cast, I got to work with the same incredible out-of-town director who would go on to hire me years later and states away, for such roles as Anne Frank. You see, I was unwittingly weaving myself a pattern. Or, Life/<insert belief here> was weaving one for me. Whatever the case, something began in my multidisciplinary college years, the threads of which I still see and create with a decade later.
I do not exclusively do children's theatre. I've delightedly romped about in Shakespearean comedies and tragedies, in experimental takes on classics, in brand new plays, in Ibsen, in Miller. I hope to visit these kinds of experiences again, many times. But my path has been child-friendly of late, and with that come very specific things to revel in.
The other day I performed in a theatre with a special practice for the visually-impaired. Just before the house opens, they invite these children to tour the set and props with an actor, so they can see things up close beforehand to have a context for specific moments in the show. The two fellas I had the hilarious pleasure of showing around were brothers, maybe 7 or 8 years old. Everything I indicated or brought to them was greeted with a "Wow!!" or "Coool!!" To just hear them, you would've thought they were playing a video game, or watching a 3-D movie. The "dying" art of theatre was, at this moment and for these 2 boys, THE MOST AWESOME THING.
They were incredibly curious. They wanted to touch everything. One of them noticed the hole in the back of a giant stuffed animal and shouted, "Whoa!! It's a puppet!! How does it work?" When I showed them another puppet, telling them he thought he was the star of the show, one of the brothers excitedly grabbed the little guy from me and turned his head to a fellow puppet, saying, "Hey! This show is all about me! I am the star!" The boys proceeded to make a whole comedic scene together. (We all start off as artists. And hams.)
Mom was there with them, snapping pictures of every encounter. During the show, the family was seated front row center. I caught happy glimpses of them now and again, but our stage manager seated off-right had a perfect view. And you know what she saw? Mom watching her 2 little boys watch the show, all smiles and shared laughter.
I was going to tie this all up with a neat moral or somesuch, but I think I'll just leave you to picture that scene. Pretty good, yeah? Yeah.
When you have another few minutes to worthily spend, dear Reader, here is another beauty-filled scene for picturin'.
Hooray for the teachers, funders, artists and parents who give children the arts (& thank you, thank you, thank you for letting me play a part, however small).
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