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).
Tuesday, December 6, 2011
Friday, December 2, 2011
congratulations & can we please not talk about it?
I think this blog has been a pretty positive place so far. I like that. I don't come here to vent or complain. I have been using this as a space to share what it's really like to do-what-I-do, and as a way for me to keep perspective about what-I-do.
A healthy perspective attempts to take in *every* aspect of a thing--easy and difficult, smooth and rough.
Well then, here is something rather crummy (difficult. rough.) about my job. Sometimes, the only offers you get viciously & irrevocably overlap.
I've only had this happen twice in 6 years, but ohhh it hurts when it happens. I have been lucky many times, and had overlapping gigs with incredibly gracious companies that were willing to work with each other's schedules and "share me" :). Yes, this feels amazing. It's hard work, but you feel lucky and appreciated.
However, I was recently offered an overseas opportunity that directly conflicted with a gig I already had. The company who offered first was understanding, and made me feel like I could have backed out if I wanted (these gigs are not until the spring). So I had a decision to make.
See Figure A.
Fig. A:
Overseas gig: 2 weeks or so.
Company I already have a relationship with.
Show I love.
Overseas = awesome.
Local gig: 4-6 weeks
Company I am forming a relationship with.
Show I love.
Working with my husband = awesome.
...I am a Libra. You see what a problem this is.
Not included in this fascinating chart is the fact that I said "yes" to the local gig first. I don't *think* I have ever backed out of a show because of another offer...I know that this is done, and if the first company is given enough notice and the second company is just offering something better for you, this is an acceptable thing. But I have not felt compelled to do that yet. And while I was tempted by the alluring promise of international adventure (you must imagine that phrase yelled out with an echo), I was not, in the end, compelled to do it this time, either.
Of course, in a perfect world, I would magically get to do both! Especially since I have no jobs on the horizon after spring. When you freelance, it just feels wrong (difficult. rough.) to turn down work. But sometimes, them's the breaks.
So I am staying home, and makin' theatre for the littlest of littles ("A person's a person, no matter how small!"). And I stand by my choice. (Any "Sex and the City" fans? "I choose my choice! I choose my choice!") I am excited and humbled by this opportunity.
But I am also surprised by a childish truth:
A healthy perspective attempts to take in *every* aspect of a thing--easy and difficult, smooth and rough.
Well then, here is something rather crummy (difficult. rough.) about my job. Sometimes, the only offers you get viciously & irrevocably overlap.
I've only had this happen twice in 6 years, but ohhh it hurts when it happens. I have been lucky many times, and had overlapping gigs with incredibly gracious companies that were willing to work with each other's schedules and "share me" :). Yes, this feels amazing. It's hard work, but you feel lucky and appreciated.
However, I was recently offered an overseas opportunity that directly conflicted with a gig I already had. The company who offered first was understanding, and made me feel like I could have backed out if I wanted (these gigs are not until the spring). So I had a decision to make.
See Figure A.
Fig. A:
Overseas gig: 2 weeks or so.
Company I already have a relationship with.
Show I love.
Overseas = awesome.
Local gig: 4-6 weeks
Company I am forming a relationship with.
Show I love.
Working with my husband = awesome.
...I am a Libra. You see what a problem this is.
Not included in this fascinating chart is the fact that I said "yes" to the local gig first. I don't *think* I have ever backed out of a show because of another offer...I know that this is done, and if the first company is given enough notice and the second company is just offering something better for you, this is an acceptable thing. But I have not felt compelled to do that yet. And while I was tempted by the alluring promise of international adventure (you must imagine that phrase yelled out with an echo), I was not, in the end, compelled to do it this time, either.
Of course, in a perfect world, I would magically get to do both! Especially since I have no jobs on the horizon after spring. When you freelance, it just feels wrong (difficult. rough.) to turn down work. But sometimes, them's the breaks.
So I am staying home, and makin' theatre for the littlest of littles ("A person's a person, no matter how small!"). And I stand by my choice. (Any "Sex and the City" fans? "I choose my choice! I choose my choice!") I am excited and humbled by this opportunity.
But I am also surprised by a childish truth:
I do not want to hear anything further about the Gig I Left Behind.
Thursday, November 10, 2011
nothin'. just writin' a novel.
So, apparently November is National Novel Writing Month. Hm! This is an internet initiative to champion creative writing--to urge the bookworms who periodically sigh at the thought of penning their own stories "one day" to JUST DO IT. The goal is not to have an awesome, print-worthy work at the end of the month, but rather to have actually made yourself write 50,000 words. Because? You will feel amazing! Because maybe you'll have learned something about goals, or how you work best, or what your voice might really be like under all those layers of emulation & fear. Because maybe you'll have some neat ideas or characters come out. Because maybe you'll have the start of something.
My dear friend & neighbor, Marcy, is the one who told me about "NaNoWriMo." Marcy has a way of telling me about things that makes me reply, "Let's do it!"
As mentioned, the goal is 50,000 words between November 1st and November 30th. This breaks down into 1,666-1,667 words per day. Marcy is BLOGGING her novel (which, she says, is turning into a series of essays on motherhood. Anyone who is either a mom and/or a person who enjoys laughter should check her out). My new friend & co-tourer, Brittany Baratz, is writing her confessions of a Jewish-American Princess: "JapYap." My friends are a riot. Me? 1,667 words/day sounded awful to me:), so I suggested that hubby & I tag-team a novel. And because he's that kind of dude, he was totally up for it.
We have been writing our novel together-from-afar since November 1st. I was literally planning on winging it, but hubby found story inspiration on a jog just before the start date. I loved his idea, so on Day 1 we both began spinning scenes around his idea. We called each other that night, and read aloud what we had written. Our voices were compleeetely different. But in a great way! So we decided to keep going down this path...each writing separately (at least 834 words/day), and sharing what we'd written by day's end so we can stay connected.
He is writing home life, contemporary voices, the heart of the story. I am writing the surrounding-life, ancient voices, the veins coming off of the heart.
We are 10 days in. It has been lovely to be surprised and impressed by my partner. It was exciting to begin writing on November 1st and realize that I had a story inside me, if only I forced my inner-critic to skip town for a while (30 days to be precise). As I am still on tour, my bits of the novel have been written in a couple different states already. I write in the van, in hotel rooms, in hotel lobbies, in coffeehouses, in bookstores. I write alone or with Brittany (me with my fish notebook, writing longhand, she typing away on a magenta laptop).
The last few days have been difficult (already!). We still have a healthy word-count, and are on track to have our 50,000 words before December, but furthering my story has been getting harder and harder. Guess that makes sense. At first, you can just throw all sorts of things at the page! But then, after a while, you feel the pressure to make a shape....
What we'll have at the end of all this might be a glorious mess with, at best, a tale to tell at cocktail parties. But it feels really good to be doing something I love *every* day, ESPECIALLY when it's hard. It feels really good to be making another something with my husband, to bond via bookish cheerleading with my fellow actor, to hop onto Twitter and realize that we are part of a worldwide community of crazy book-loving people who want to try their hand at creation.
And sometimes, there are moments like this:
My dear friend & neighbor, Marcy, is the one who told me about "NaNoWriMo." Marcy has a way of telling me about things that makes me reply, "Let's do it!"
As mentioned, the goal is 50,000 words between November 1st and November 30th. This breaks down into 1,666-1,667 words per day. Marcy is BLOGGING her novel (which, she says, is turning into a series of essays on motherhood. Anyone who is either a mom and/or a person who enjoys laughter should check her out). My new friend & co-tourer, Brittany Baratz, is writing her confessions of a Jewish-American Princess: "JapYap." My friends are a riot. Me? 1,667 words/day sounded awful to me:), so I suggested that hubby & I tag-team a novel. And because he's that kind of dude, he was totally up for it.
We have been writing our novel together-from-afar since November 1st. I was literally planning on winging it, but hubby found story inspiration on a jog just before the start date. I loved his idea, so on Day 1 we both began spinning scenes around his idea. We called each other that night, and read aloud what we had written. Our voices were compleeetely different. But in a great way! So we decided to keep going down this path...each writing separately (at least 834 words/day), and sharing what we'd written by day's end so we can stay connected.
He is writing home life, contemporary voices, the heart of the story. I am writing the surrounding-life, ancient voices, the veins coming off of the heart.
We are 10 days in. It has been lovely to be surprised and impressed by my partner. It was exciting to begin writing on November 1st and realize that I had a story inside me, if only I forced my inner-critic to skip town for a while (30 days to be precise). As I am still on tour, my bits of the novel have been written in a couple different states already. I write in the van, in hotel rooms, in hotel lobbies, in coffeehouses, in bookstores. I write alone or with Brittany (me with my fish notebook, writing longhand, she typing away on a magenta laptop).
The last few days have been difficult (already!). We still have a healthy word-count, and are on track to have our 50,000 words before December, but furthering my story has been getting harder and harder. Guess that makes sense. At first, you can just throw all sorts of things at the page! But then, after a while, you feel the pressure to make a shape....
What we'll have at the end of all this might be a glorious mess with, at best, a tale to tell at cocktail parties. But it feels really good to be doing something I love *every* day, ESPECIALLY when it's hard. It feels really good to be making another something with my husband, to bond via bookish cheerleading with my fellow actor, to hop onto Twitter and realize that we are part of a worldwide community of crazy book-loving people who want to try their hand at creation.
And sometimes, there are moments like this:
Thursday, October 27, 2011
sometimes you round a corner...
...and find a great big piece of your SELF.
That there is one of mine:). My "pieces," I mean. Created by a New Orleans artist who goes by the name Ersy.
This is why I explore. It's why I visit galleries and museums, read books, see plays. I am looking for that thing -- moment, phrase, photo, painting, brushstroke -- that stops me in my tracks. Arrests my body and mind and makes me feel RIGHT NOW. What happens in that moment is that I have identified with something on a level I cannot immediately comprehend, if ever. The best way I can describe it is that I have found a piece of me.
My literary boyfriend, Proust (hehe), said that the only worthy journey in this world is the journey into the Self. I believe that constantly delving deeper into our Selves is how we find more and more Others. The journey of Self begins in narrow spelunking but quickly broadens into a veritable space odyssey.
..so to speak...<blush>
Hey, I'd love to see some works of art or nature that have surprised YOU.
That there is one of mine:). My "pieces," I mean. Created by a New Orleans artist who goes by the name Ersy.
This is why I explore. It's why I visit galleries and museums, read books, see plays. I am looking for that thing -- moment, phrase, photo, painting, brushstroke -- that stops me in my tracks. Arrests my body and mind and makes me feel RIGHT NOW. What happens in that moment is that I have identified with something on a level I cannot immediately comprehend, if ever. The best way I can describe it is that I have found a piece of me.
My literary boyfriend, Proust (hehe), said that the only worthy journey in this world is the journey into the Self. I believe that constantly delving deeper into our Selves is how we find more and more Others. The journey of Self begins in narrow spelunking but quickly broadens into a veritable space odyssey.
..so to speak...<blush>
Hey, I'd love to see some works of art or nature that have surprised YOU.
Saturday, October 22, 2011
convergences
Exhibit A: Yours truly getting ready to do some Shakespeare at the Dixie Carter Center, fall 2006.
Exhibit B: Same gal, now a married lady and travelin' from DC instead of Nashville, getting ready to do some children's theatre at the Dixie Carter Center, fall 2011.
*****
It is pretty typical for an actor to work in the same theatre over & over, or even to tour to the same venues. But I have to pause for a moment and give this week's juxtapositions their due.
The above photos were taken from a theatre in a town of about 4,000 people (2010 census said 4,074). There is a little cafe across the street from the backstage entrance. I walked in and the woman behind the counter said, "You've been here before." And there it was, my tiny face in a cast photo on the wall by the entrance. The 2006 Shakespeare gang had such a lovely experience in this small-town cafe that we posed for a photo with the owners' 4-year-old niece (who had watched and loved our Macbeth!). Here I was, 5 years later, with a new cast and a show that is actually aimed at 4-year-olds:).
All this, mind you, happened after a weekend spent in Nashville, my former hometown. We performed in the very theatre that gave me my equity card in 2005--a theatre that has never before hosted another company's production. We were only there because another venue had canceled (times are tough right now, and many theatres are only able to present our show because of local, corporate and/or private funding. It is remarkable how many children get to see our show for free or for very little money, thanks to the generosity of companies and individuals. These are children who may never have been exposed to a live show otherwise. It adds a whole new dimension to their imaginations). Our people called their people, so to speak, to ask for suggestions of theatres that might adopt our sweet show for a day or two. They happened to just be closing a show then. In an unprecedented move, my old children's theatre home gave my new children's theatre show a brief-&-beautiful home.
To perform for children and families is a special joy. I feel like my job is simply to give young people and their grownups a pure experience. Our show employs some neat new tricks, but all in the name of carrying on an old tradition. We are sharing a story. People are gathering, around a stage as around a fire, to receive a story.
To perform for children and families that you know? That is a gift. Many of my Nashville friends saw the show by themselves or with each other--many don't even have children. But they are part of a larger family. It is what I love about Nashville theatre. So just a few days ago, I got to perform for my Nashville family--people who helped me become who I am right now. Actors and theatre-makers and artists whose love of their work, their audience, their town illuminated a whole new path for me. Before Nashville, I didn't know you could be a theatre actor with a house and a yard! I didn't think about the place children's theatre might have in my career. I didn't know you could be such good friends with your "competition" :). And I didn't know the man I would come to marry.
I could go on & on. Suffice it to say, the path of my national tour just aligned with my personal trajectory in a profound way. This blog post is a clumsy ode to happy convergences.
Wednesday, October 12, 2011
the art of family
I just finished a phone interview with a theatre critic/lovely human I know. He wanted to do a piece on my touring show, which will be stopping in his (and my old) hometown. He knew that I had spent the last few days with my dad, who lives near-ish to our current tour stop. After his questions, the interviewer mentioned how great it was that I got to see my pa. He said that -- even though he was sure I knew it, he wanted to give voice to it -- as we get older, we realize how important it is to spend time with our families. Whenever and wherever and however we can.
Between this tour and the last, I have gotten to see my family more than anytime in the last decade, I believe. This is especially fitting since the play I am in is one big celebration of FAMILY! And one of the very very best things about this gig is watching families experience the show together.
In a recent show, I caught sight of a little girl on her daddy's lap. During the ballad that the father character sings to his daughter, the real dad in front of me squeezed his little girl and made her grin with a big ole kiss on the cheek.
Our remarkable sound guy does his job right in the midst of the audience, and he loved the first time he noticed a mom holding her kiddo on her lap, who was holding a stuffed lovey in *his* lap! (Every buddy holds a buddy!)
On the last tour, I got to perform on the very stage that opened my teenage mind years ago when my dad took me and a dear friend (now deceased) to see "The Mikado." (Friends, you know, can be family, too.)
A woman once told me that during one of our performances, she saw her little girl laugh in a new way. It was the first time she had ever seen her full-on belly laugh, as in grabbing-her-stomach-and-bending-forward-to-laugh!
More than one new dad has sought us out after a show to say, "That was my life! That's what it's like! THANK YOU!"
To put a twist on the theme, I have had to be parted from one family (my new, loving husband) to bring this family-fest to others. Relationships from the road are probably as varied as tours themselves. My hubby and I have a book (anyone familiar with the McSweeney's furry journal?) that we pass back and forth. We text little thoughts and photos to each other throughout each day. He made me a CD with tracks of music interspersed with tracks of him speaking; I hid little notes for him throughout the house before I left. We both have a copy of the same photo of us that we set up in each theatre dressing room we occupy. It is difficult to be away from his physical presence. I miss hugs, and morning coffee together. But it has also been kindof fun to find creative ways to be part of each other's day from afar, and it has been nice to be missed, and to feel the pang of missing someone but knowing it's a finite absence.
You can celebrate the family in front of you as well as the one that is a phone call away.
Or the one that is a world away, for that matter. My grandma would've gotten a kick-and-a-half outta seeing me play a toddler (at 30+ :).
...I mean 20+...<cough>
Between this tour and the last, I have gotten to see my family more than anytime in the last decade, I believe. This is especially fitting since the play I am in is one big celebration of FAMILY! And one of the very very best things about this gig is watching families experience the show together.
In a recent show, I caught sight of a little girl on her daddy's lap. During the ballad that the father character sings to his daughter, the real dad in front of me squeezed his little girl and made her grin with a big ole kiss on the cheek.
Our remarkable sound guy does his job right in the midst of the audience, and he loved the first time he noticed a mom holding her kiddo on her lap, who was holding a stuffed lovey in *his* lap! (Every buddy holds a buddy!)
On the last tour, I got to perform on the very stage that opened my teenage mind years ago when my dad took me and a dear friend (now deceased) to see "The Mikado." (Friends, you know, can be family, too.)
A woman once told me that during one of our performances, she saw her little girl laugh in a new way. It was the first time she had ever seen her full-on belly laugh, as in grabbing-her-stomach-and-bending-forward-to-laugh!
More than one new dad has sought us out after a show to say, "That was my life! That's what it's like! THANK YOU!"
To put a twist on the theme, I have had to be parted from one family (my new, loving husband) to bring this family-fest to others. Relationships from the road are probably as varied as tours themselves. My hubby and I have a book (anyone familiar with the McSweeney's furry journal?) that we pass back and forth. We text little thoughts and photos to each other throughout each day. He made me a CD with tracks of music interspersed with tracks of him speaking; I hid little notes for him throughout the house before I left. We both have a copy of the same photo of us that we set up in each theatre dressing room we occupy. It is difficult to be away from his physical presence. I miss hugs, and morning coffee together. But it has also been kindof fun to find creative ways to be part of each other's day from afar, and it has been nice to be missed, and to feel the pang of missing someone but knowing it's a finite absence.
You can celebrate the family in front of you as well as the one that is a phone call away.
Or the one that is a world away, for that matter. My grandma would've gotten a kick-and-a-half outta seeing me play a toddler (at 30+ :).
...I mean 20+...<cough>
Wednesday, October 5, 2011
topsy tour-vy
...did I mention I love puns? :)
I am officially on tour again. Tours come in many shapes and sizes. Mine looks like this: there are 5 actors, and 4 crew members. We travel in a van (7 of us, plus modest luggage) and a 26 ft moving truck (2 of us, plus all the set and costume pieces & props). We take turns driving a few hours at a time. We spend every night in a hotel -- we only drive during the day -- and when we reach a city where we'll perform, we set up camp for anywhere from a single day to a whole week. Some venues have 1 show booked for us, some have 7 shows booked, and the audiences range from 200 to 3,000 at a time! (Most places last tour fell in around the 800-1,000 kid mark). Let me tell ya, it is quite an experience, hearing the shrieks, gasps and cheers of a thousand kindergarteners:). With any show, the audience is the final piece involved in making a complete work of art or entertainment. With a lively show for tots, that feels especially true. These moments we worked so hard to create in the rehearsal room are all for them. There are jokes in this show that adults will enjoy and smile at, but kids? Especially kids with their peers? They will laugh their heads off. It's so much fun to witness.
Being an actor on this tour, you get a lot of free time. I tend to use it exploring each new city (with a camera-phone, a sketchpad and sometimes the scrawled directions to a local indy bookstore, coffee shop or comicbook store), reading, and watching too much "Law & Order" <blush>. Yesterday, I visited the beach and grabbed dinner with some of my cohorts. But I will be on tour for 2 1/2 months. There's bound to be quite a lot of unproductive time in there.... To combat this, I trolled the internet (and my brain) for great artistic to-dos.
Ahem!
You could...share your thoughts on the books you read. Enjoy a hilarious monologue from time to time. Listen to some fantastic storytelling. Marvel at what is being done on faraway stages. Tap into the other bits of your creativity. Write a novel. Ogle bookshelves (C'mon! After writing a novel, you have earned the right to ogle some bookshelves) or laugh at bunnies (ditto).
I look forward to continued blogging from the road! I consider that a pretty great artistic to-do as well.
I am officially on tour again. Tours come in many shapes and sizes. Mine looks like this: there are 5 actors, and 4 crew members. We travel in a van (7 of us, plus modest luggage) and a 26 ft moving truck (2 of us, plus all the set and costume pieces & props). We take turns driving a few hours at a time. We spend every night in a hotel -- we only drive during the day -- and when we reach a city where we'll perform, we set up camp for anywhere from a single day to a whole week. Some venues have 1 show booked for us, some have 7 shows booked, and the audiences range from 200 to 3,000 at a time! (Most places last tour fell in around the 800-1,000 kid mark). Let me tell ya, it is quite an experience, hearing the shrieks, gasps and cheers of a thousand kindergarteners:). With any show, the audience is the final piece involved in making a complete work of art or entertainment. With a lively show for tots, that feels especially true. These moments we worked so hard to create in the rehearsal room are all for them. There are jokes in this show that adults will enjoy and smile at, but kids? Especially kids with their peers? They will laugh their heads off. It's so much fun to witness.
Being an actor on this tour, you get a lot of free time. I tend to use it exploring each new city (with a camera-phone, a sketchpad and sometimes the scrawled directions to a local indy bookstore, coffee shop or comicbook store), reading, and watching too much "Law & Order" <blush>. Yesterday, I visited the beach and grabbed dinner with some of my cohorts. But I will be on tour for 2 1/2 months. There's bound to be quite a lot of unproductive time in there.... To combat this, I trolled the internet (and my brain) for great artistic to-dos.
Ahem!
You could...share your thoughts on the books you read. Enjoy a hilarious monologue from time to time. Listen to some fantastic storytelling. Marvel at what is being done on faraway stages. Tap into the other bits of your creativity. Write a novel. Ogle bookshelves (C'mon! After writing a novel, you have earned the right to ogle some bookshelves) or laugh at bunnies (ditto).
I look forward to continued blogging from the road! I consider that a pretty great artistic to-do as well.
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