Hey Bruce, Just checking in . . . for the last time.
Thank you all for making this a life changing summer for all of us. But even more than that – Thank you for giving us the tools and allowing us to make for ourselves a summer that has changed us – that has allowed us to ask some important questions, explore some important ideas. Thank you for giving us the freedom to choose our own adventure and encouraging us to embrace that choice. “Thank you” are two words not powerful enough to express our gratitude for allowing us to see ourselves for what we are – luck, blessed, gifts to this world.
And so, I, Laura Jernigan (otherwise known as Roux) will bring us full circle. I started this thing off and now on behalf of the entire intern class of 2008 I am signing off.
Thank you
Thank you
Thank you
~ Laura J
p.s. To continue thoughts I started in this blog, I’ve started my own blog. You can see it at http://lobstermanswife.blogspot.com/
Friday, August 29, 2008
This is Actually Happening/EVENT
I wrote this during tech for the apprentice showcase
I wrote previously that theatre should be an event. Theatre should, as Anne Bogart said, make us lean forward. Eric, the marketing director, came to talk to the apprentices a while back. WCP’s marketing thing right now is all about having an EXPERIENCE. He told the apprentices that an audiences EXPERIENCE of the show should start with the marketing. Should start with the poster, the first flyer they get, the first advertisement they see or hear. I mean, the thing for the website is “your experience starts here” I think that’s brilliant! If I could thematically decorate the lobby of the theatre to go with every show (without it getting cheesy or campy, which I’m not sure is possible) I would. It’s an event! It should feel like an event. It’s why I like to get dressed up a little when I go to the theatre. This is something special, different, a gift.
Do you ever have those moments where you suddenly think to yourself: “This is actually happening!” ? One of those, “this, right here, this moment that I am breathing in. It’s real. This is actually happening”. We spend so much time watching TV, watching movies, in front of our computer screens that we become numb to reality. We walk around in a daze, not really noticing the world around us. Every once in a while we have an experience that shakes us out of it (see WALL-E if you want to see extreme examples of this situation). Of course there are the near death experiences that shake us out of these numb dazes, but these are not the kind I would like to focus on right now.
The first time (in my adult life at least) that I really had one of those moments was at a concert. We were seeing this band called Nathan Asher and the Infantry, it was late at night, in a small smoke filled bar, I was hanging out with people that were older and cooler than me and I had just had my first shot of whiskey. Suddenly in the middle of the concert, I realized as this huge sound rolled over me that all the people in the room had their faces turned to the stage. The light from the stage fell across all of them and we were, all of us, jumping on the same beat. We were all there, having that experience together, feeling the same music press against us, breathing the same smoke filled air, moving to the same rhythm and it just hit me. This is actually happening. This moment, right here. This is happening. This is real.
It happened at several concerts after this, a couple of plays, and several moments on stage, or behind the stage. But they are rare, these moments. It hadn’t happened in a while, though. I mean, I was working at a doctor’s office before I came here, and then I got here and was, well, overwhelmed, I guess, by the whole thing for a while. But then Tryst happened. Tryst is a show that makes me have one of those moments. This is actually happening. Whether it was during tech or during one of the several shows I have seen, every time something happens where my breath catches and the only sound in my head is “this is actually happening”. Every night is a new show, a new experience, a new event. Even if I can’t sneak in to see it, even if I can’t stay glued to the monitor, even if I am working through the show I will catch some line, some line that they say differently, some emotion resonating in their voices that freezes me in place. This is actually happening. This magnificent piece of theatre is happening above me right now, people are experiencing it, and for this one small moment, for whatever reason, so am I. For that small moment we are all connected. This is actually happening. Do you think they know? Do you think they have any idea? Do you think they would believe me if I told them? No. But they do and they are, and it’s just . . . a constant reminder- in these last dwindling days when I spend a lot of time thinking I don’t want to be here – that I am so lucky. I get to be here and daily be affected by art. By passion. By silliness and wonder. I just. I feel like I’ve been overstating myself in these last couple of blogs, that the more I say how wonderful the show is the less meaningful it’s going to be, the less sincere it’s going to seem. But it’s not about giving compliments. It’s about what theatre should be. Is the show perfect? No. Is there any show that is perfect? No (and I don’t think there should be, or else what do we have to strive for?). Do I still have some problems with the script? Yes. But these two actors achieve what I think theatre should achieve. They make me breathe differently and notice it. And the design and direction behind this show achieves what I think theatre should be. An event. And experience. What more could I ask for in my last weeks here?
You know what else reminds me that I am lucky? These apprentices. I’m sitting here in their tech right now. You guys are all going to think I am the biggest freak, I have never liked tech before getting here, but now I do. I love it. I think it’s because I spent so little of my time in the theatre here. So once I get to spend so much time in the actual theatre I notice the difference in the air and the energy and I love it. I love every second of it. I love the affect it has on everyone. I loved the tech for the intern showcase, too. I loved sitting in the audience watching those people I had spent so much time with in the last few weeks be on that stage under those lights for the first time. I love watching what Julie could do with so little time, and watching the miracles Ashley could work with someone else’s light plot. It was amazing. Fascinating. Moment after moment of “oh my god. This is actually happening. I am actually here in this house tech-ing a show that I am a part of, and then, oh holy Jesus, I am actually on the stage. Look at this. This is actually happening.” And then performing. Performing on that stage, getting the laugh, knowing my friend Lormarev was out there to see it, and my apprentices, and oh . . . This is actually happening. It didn’t feel like it had afterward, but I knew that I had that moment, and that was all that mattered.
And now these apprentices are getting to experience it. They are beautiful. This showcase was a struggle, a drama, of course it was, they are teenagers. But then again we had some drama and struggle in our showcase to. But they came together. I look at them, and they are together, on stage, working towards something together. And that’s what it is all about. My friend Matthew Earnest who directed me in one of the most fabulous theatre experiences of my life, told me that the audience comes to see the actor go through something. I want to see you go through something, I want to watch you take a journey, struggle through something. I want to see you experience something. In watching the actor go through something, the audience gets to experience something. What I don’t think my wonderful apprentices realize is that this show they are getting ready to do is brilliant because we are watching them work towards something, go through something, and do it together. We are literally getting to watch them come together as a group in a way they have not done so far this summer. We get to watch them tonight. Sure it might mean more to me since I have spent all summer with them, but I think it will come across. As the realization dawns on them, as they go through the experience of realizing on stage what exactly it is that they have done, what they have achieved, the audience will feel it, they will realize it to. It will make them breathe differently. This is what it is about. Coming together for a common goal to create and experience larger than ourselves. This is what it is about. This, right here, right now – This is actually happening.
I wrote previously that theatre should be an event. Theatre should, as Anne Bogart said, make us lean forward. Eric, the marketing director, came to talk to the apprentices a while back. WCP’s marketing thing right now is all about having an EXPERIENCE. He told the apprentices that an audiences EXPERIENCE of the show should start with the marketing. Should start with the poster, the first flyer they get, the first advertisement they see or hear. I mean, the thing for the website is “your experience starts here” I think that’s brilliant! If I could thematically decorate the lobby of the theatre to go with every show (without it getting cheesy or campy, which I’m not sure is possible) I would. It’s an event! It should feel like an event. It’s why I like to get dressed up a little when I go to the theatre. This is something special, different, a gift.
Do you ever have those moments where you suddenly think to yourself: “This is actually happening!” ? One of those, “this, right here, this moment that I am breathing in. It’s real. This is actually happening”. We spend so much time watching TV, watching movies, in front of our computer screens that we become numb to reality. We walk around in a daze, not really noticing the world around us. Every once in a while we have an experience that shakes us out of it (see WALL-E if you want to see extreme examples of this situation). Of course there are the near death experiences that shake us out of these numb dazes, but these are not the kind I would like to focus on right now.
The first time (in my adult life at least) that I really had one of those moments was at a concert. We were seeing this band called Nathan Asher and the Infantry, it was late at night, in a small smoke filled bar, I was hanging out with people that were older and cooler than me and I had just had my first shot of whiskey. Suddenly in the middle of the concert, I realized as this huge sound rolled over me that all the people in the room had their faces turned to the stage. The light from the stage fell across all of them and we were, all of us, jumping on the same beat. We were all there, having that experience together, feeling the same music press against us, breathing the same smoke filled air, moving to the same rhythm and it just hit me. This is actually happening. This moment, right here. This is happening. This is real.
It happened at several concerts after this, a couple of plays, and several moments on stage, or behind the stage. But they are rare, these moments. It hadn’t happened in a while, though. I mean, I was working at a doctor’s office before I came here, and then I got here and was, well, overwhelmed, I guess, by the whole thing for a while. But then Tryst happened. Tryst is a show that makes me have one of those moments. This is actually happening. Whether it was during tech or during one of the several shows I have seen, every time something happens where my breath catches and the only sound in my head is “this is actually happening”. Every night is a new show, a new experience, a new event. Even if I can’t sneak in to see it, even if I can’t stay glued to the monitor, even if I am working through the show I will catch some line, some line that they say differently, some emotion resonating in their voices that freezes me in place. This is actually happening. This magnificent piece of theatre is happening above me right now, people are experiencing it, and for this one small moment, for whatever reason, so am I. For that small moment we are all connected. This is actually happening. Do you think they know? Do you think they have any idea? Do you think they would believe me if I told them? No. But they do and they are, and it’s just . . . a constant reminder- in these last dwindling days when I spend a lot of time thinking I don’t want to be here – that I am so lucky. I get to be here and daily be affected by art. By passion. By silliness and wonder. I just. I feel like I’ve been overstating myself in these last couple of blogs, that the more I say how wonderful the show is the less meaningful it’s going to be, the less sincere it’s going to seem. But it’s not about giving compliments. It’s about what theatre should be. Is the show perfect? No. Is there any show that is perfect? No (and I don’t think there should be, or else what do we have to strive for?). Do I still have some problems with the script? Yes. But these two actors achieve what I think theatre should achieve. They make me breathe differently and notice it. And the design and direction behind this show achieves what I think theatre should be. An event. And experience. What more could I ask for in my last weeks here?
You know what else reminds me that I am lucky? These apprentices. I’m sitting here in their tech right now. You guys are all going to think I am the biggest freak, I have never liked tech before getting here, but now I do. I love it. I think it’s because I spent so little of my time in the theatre here. So once I get to spend so much time in the actual theatre I notice the difference in the air and the energy and I love it. I love every second of it. I love the affect it has on everyone. I loved the tech for the intern showcase, too. I loved sitting in the audience watching those people I had spent so much time with in the last few weeks be on that stage under those lights for the first time. I love watching what Julie could do with so little time, and watching the miracles Ashley could work with someone else’s light plot. It was amazing. Fascinating. Moment after moment of “oh my god. This is actually happening. I am actually here in this house tech-ing a show that I am a part of, and then, oh holy Jesus, I am actually on the stage. Look at this. This is actually happening.” And then performing. Performing on that stage, getting the laugh, knowing my friend Lormarev was out there to see it, and my apprentices, and oh . . . This is actually happening. It didn’t feel like it had afterward, but I knew that I had that moment, and that was all that mattered.
And now these apprentices are getting to experience it. They are beautiful. This showcase was a struggle, a drama, of course it was, they are teenagers. But then again we had some drama and struggle in our showcase to. But they came together. I look at them, and they are together, on stage, working towards something together. And that’s what it is all about. My friend Matthew Earnest who directed me in one of the most fabulous theatre experiences of my life, told me that the audience comes to see the actor go through something. I want to see you go through something, I want to watch you take a journey, struggle through something. I want to see you experience something. In watching the actor go through something, the audience gets to experience something. What I don’t think my wonderful apprentices realize is that this show they are getting ready to do is brilliant because we are watching them work towards something, go through something, and do it together. We are literally getting to watch them come together as a group in a way they have not done so far this summer. We get to watch them tonight. Sure it might mean more to me since I have spent all summer with them, but I think it will come across. As the realization dawns on them, as they go through the experience of realizing on stage what exactly it is that they have done, what they have achieved, the audience will feel it, they will realize it to. It will make them breathe differently. This is what it is about. Coming together for a common goal to create and experience larger than ourselves. This is what it is about. This, right here, right now – This is actually happening.
Thursday, August 21, 2008
Cause here we are, here we are
Alright, I'll admit it.
I miss the playhouse way too much. I think what I miss the most is the positive energy oozing from every little nook and cranny of that huge red building. I've only been back at school for a few days now (not everyone has moved in yet) and I already wish I was working on Of Mice and Men with Liza.
It was really awful saying goodbye to all the interns after the showcase. I went home that night feeling really upset and not excited about leaving for California. Of course, once I was there, I was so happy to be there but I couldn't help but wonder what everyone was up to and how Tryst was going. Luckily, I received a phone call from Chris which totally brightened my day even though her news for me wasn't the best. I'm really going to miss my frequent talks with her in the main kitchen of the babe bungalow.
I just wanted to repeat something I said to most of the interns, please stay in touch. I want to know what you guys are up to.
My thoughts aren't finished but I'm being pulled away for an event in my dorm so stay tuned...
<3 Kim
I miss the playhouse way too much. I think what I miss the most is the positive energy oozing from every little nook and cranny of that huge red building. I've only been back at school for a few days now (not everyone has moved in yet) and I already wish I was working on Of Mice and Men with Liza.
It was really awful saying goodbye to all the interns after the showcase. I went home that night feeling really upset and not excited about leaving for California. Of course, once I was there, I was so happy to be there but I couldn't help but wonder what everyone was up to and how Tryst was going. Luckily, I received a phone call from Chris which totally brightened my day even though her news for me wasn't the best. I'm really going to miss my frequent talks with her in the main kitchen of the babe bungalow.
I just wanted to repeat something I said to most of the interns, please stay in touch. I want to know what you guys are up to.
My thoughts aren't finished but I'm being pulled away for an event in my dorm so stay tuned...
<3 Kim
Thursday, August 14, 2008
Strife, Pain, Wonder - A Love Letter
Today was a day. One of those days where I felt on the precipice of tears all day long. I have this problem, see. All I’ve wanted to do was write on the Intern Showcase and how amazing it was. And it was amazing. But for me, in the aftershock, it’s also completely surreal. Did that really happen? Did we just do that?
I go through these lows after shows sometimes (just ask my mother). It’s a listlessness. Especially after something like what we just did. You pour your heart and soul into something, and your precious little time, and whatever energy you have left, and you do this amazing thing for one night. One night. It’s shows like that that have this effect on me the most. Kind of like you want to walk up to everyone you see and take them by the shirt collar and shout in their faces “Do you know what we just did!” and of course most of the people here do. They were there! (Thank you all so much for coming, I cannot tell you what it meant to us. I think a lot of us thought that there might just be, like, ten people there, or less.)And this is not a complaint. We were blessed with this night, with this opportunity to . . . display our beliefs on that stage.
And it’s a high. It’s a complete high. It’s a high to perform. It feels like flying, it’s like suddenly being able to breathe underwater. It’s something that shouldn’t make sense, but the minute people are in front of you for some reason it all makes sense. It’s as if a higher power is breathing through you. The world is perfect for a few moments. Perfect because for a few minutes a group of people are all in the same room, breathing together, being together, and we all take the same journey together. As a performer I get to help take us on the journey. It’s a high to hear my words performed, and to hear people react to them. To hear a group of people laugh at my words, or gasp at them, or cry at them, or be moved in anyway – it’s a small piece of the divine. It’s God’s hands stretching out and touching people and I had something to do with it. It’s a high to see the people I lead (I don’t know if you could call what I did directing. It was more like guiding. Really, I just let them play and suggested a few fun things along the way)hit a moment, get the laugh, feel something, be effected, react to the audience. It’s as if the universe is allowing me to gaze through its eyes. And for all of us to be together, to come together like that, to prove to ourselves that we could. For a brief time we got to create –which is what we all love to do most and some of us were unable to because of the internships we had- and we created together. It brought us together in a way that will mean we are forever a part of each other’s beings, each other’s thought processes.
But the next day you’re back. Back on earth. You touch godliness and the next day you’re back to being an intern – you have to do your job. There are images to be found, there are schedules to keep, there are things to copy, there are people to be driven around, there are people to please and politics to navigate, there’s an apprentice showcase to do, and there are teenagers to wrangle, take care of, be with. Friends come in from out of town, people you have just begun to love leave, move on to new things, and there is such a thing as burn out. Today I did not want to do the job. Today I wanted to shout at everyone “Do you know I checked out, like, two weeks ago?! I am done with this. I am sooo done with this. I have learned what I needed to learn by coming here, and I would be perfectly happy to go home now. To move on. To figure out the next thing. To figure out where I am going to be employed once the 29th comes!”
But it’s not true! I haven’t learned everything I needed to learn yet – today definitely showed me that. Negative energy was oozing from everywhere, from all of my beautiful apprentices (every single one of them) and it just broke my heart into a thousand tiny little pieces. They are tired and cranky and still not sure how to navigate each other, and all I want to do is take care of them and make them happy, make sure they enjoy the precious few moments they have left here, with each other – with me. And I didn’t know how. I don’t know how. I couldn’t fix it. And I don’t need to, I realize that. They are intelligent young adults (and also moody teenagers), they have to go through this, and they will come out on the other side. It’s just such a powerless feeling this feeling of ignorance, this knowledge that I am doing them a disservice because I am still learning how to be a good teacher, because I am on a learning curb. It’s not fair to them, and I’m sorry. All I could do was look them each in the eye and remind them of all the things that Mark and Andrea said to us at dinner yesterday. We are so lucky. We are so blessed. We are living the dream. People would kill to be where they are right now. To have the opportunity they have been given this summer. And I told them that there were moments running up to the intern showcase that I didn’t want to be in rehearsal, I was tired, I was in a bad mood, but you go in and you do the work, and by the end you’ve forgotten about the bad mood because you’ve remembered you love the work. And that I didn’t get my wildest fantasy to come true for the scene I directed in the intern showcase. I wanted to have that piece of paper flown in and I wanted those actors to spray paint tada across it. But I couldn’t. There was no space to fly it in, we didn’t have time or physical space to build something to put the paper on, and we were told flat out that we couldn’t use spray paint in the theatre. But we figured something out. It worked, it was wonderful. The obstacles in your way are the ones that are going to give you the best ideas. Great art comes from strife, comes from struggle.
I wanted to tell them that when I was told we were to have an intern showcase at the end of all of this I thought it was a HORRIBLE idea. I didn’t want to talk about it, I didn’t want to think about it, I hated it the way I hated group projects in college, no matter how much I loved the subject matter (probably more so the more you love it). There were so many strong personalities, so many directors, so many leaders, I thought it was going to be a royal mess or we were all going to end up killing each other or both. And sometimes it looked like it might end up that way. This was not all sunshine and lollipops, people. Exactly one week before the showcase I thought people were going to start spitting fire at one another, and I thought I might be one of them. There are times that it was not fun. There are times when this work is not fun. But you do it because you get to that moment when it feels like flying, you get to that moment when you realize there are people in the audience who are overwhelmed by the work you are doing.
I am going to see the showcase that these young people put on (or I hope I will, I might be back stage, but god I hope I get to sit and watch it) and someone is going to have to sit beside me and literally hold me together. They don’t know how beautiful they are. They do not know that they are sensational, that they deserve a medal for devoting all of this time to something that has been said several times this summer is a dieing art form. These apprentices are the people that will insure that that doesn’t happen. Even the ones who decide not to do theatre, they are the reason that theatre will continue to live. They hold the key in their hot hands and they are going to get up there on that stage and show us what it is and I won’t be able to hold it together.
I want to see it. I want to see the moment when they get up there under those lights and it all makes since. When this “process” that we’ve been dragging them through all lines up somehow, and in the midst of all this wonderfulness that is performance, the process was really the more important thing. I want to be there to see them have that moment of discovery when they realize the air is different on stage. The air is different on stage, did you know that? It’s different up there. It makes you breathe differently. It changes you.
Sam compared being an actor to Super Heroes. I can see that. It is mythological. I like my flying metaphor, because that’s what it always feels like to me. But it always makes me think of Peter Pan. Someone you can just look at and know that they have flown, that they have had the wind in their face, they’ve been kissed by it, and the effect lasts and lasts- on your face, it lives in your hair, your skin, your pours. That’s how I feel about performers. They’ve flown, they’ve ridden the wind, and the wind has touched them, and forever changed them, and the mark is on their bodies, and you can tell, you can just tell. I want to be there when they have that moment. When they experience that high.
I have to miss their last day. I will be flying away from them that last Friday night inconsolable. They have changed me. Emma has changed me, Peter has changed me, Rasheem has changed me, Whitney has changed me, Julia has changed me, Sarah Lee has changed me, Sam has changed me. I can only hope, only hope, only hope that I have had some small amount of that effect on them.
~ Laura (Roux)
p.s. It was after I had this talk with the apprentices that I realized “hey, miss i-am-going-to-walk-around-and-feel-sorry-for-myself-and-wallow-in-my-own-misery! Maybe you should take your own advice and remind yourself how lucky you are to be here. How incredibly lucky you are that you get to work at this place, with these people, with these interns, with these apprentices, with these actors (who once again, I must tell you, are soo incredible. And on top of that two of the most wonderful, genuine people I have ever met. COME SEE TRYST! IT IS SOO WORTH IT!). Shake it off already, will yah!
I go through these lows after shows sometimes (just ask my mother). It’s a listlessness. Especially after something like what we just did. You pour your heart and soul into something, and your precious little time, and whatever energy you have left, and you do this amazing thing for one night. One night. It’s shows like that that have this effect on me the most. Kind of like you want to walk up to everyone you see and take them by the shirt collar and shout in their faces “Do you know what we just did!” and of course most of the people here do. They were there! (Thank you all so much for coming, I cannot tell you what it meant to us. I think a lot of us thought that there might just be, like, ten people there, or less.)And this is not a complaint. We were blessed with this night, with this opportunity to . . . display our beliefs on that stage.
And it’s a high. It’s a complete high. It’s a high to perform. It feels like flying, it’s like suddenly being able to breathe underwater. It’s something that shouldn’t make sense, but the minute people are in front of you for some reason it all makes sense. It’s as if a higher power is breathing through you. The world is perfect for a few moments. Perfect because for a few minutes a group of people are all in the same room, breathing together, being together, and we all take the same journey together. As a performer I get to help take us on the journey. It’s a high to hear my words performed, and to hear people react to them. To hear a group of people laugh at my words, or gasp at them, or cry at them, or be moved in anyway – it’s a small piece of the divine. It’s God’s hands stretching out and touching people and I had something to do with it. It’s a high to see the people I lead (I don’t know if you could call what I did directing. It was more like guiding. Really, I just let them play and suggested a few fun things along the way)hit a moment, get the laugh, feel something, be effected, react to the audience. It’s as if the universe is allowing me to gaze through its eyes. And for all of us to be together, to come together like that, to prove to ourselves that we could. For a brief time we got to create –which is what we all love to do most and some of us were unable to because of the internships we had- and we created together. It brought us together in a way that will mean we are forever a part of each other’s beings, each other’s thought processes.
But the next day you’re back. Back on earth. You touch godliness and the next day you’re back to being an intern – you have to do your job. There are images to be found, there are schedules to keep, there are things to copy, there are people to be driven around, there are people to please and politics to navigate, there’s an apprentice showcase to do, and there are teenagers to wrangle, take care of, be with. Friends come in from out of town, people you have just begun to love leave, move on to new things, and there is such a thing as burn out. Today I did not want to do the job. Today I wanted to shout at everyone “Do you know I checked out, like, two weeks ago?! I am done with this. I am sooo done with this. I have learned what I needed to learn by coming here, and I would be perfectly happy to go home now. To move on. To figure out the next thing. To figure out where I am going to be employed once the 29th comes!”
But it’s not true! I haven’t learned everything I needed to learn yet – today definitely showed me that. Negative energy was oozing from everywhere, from all of my beautiful apprentices (every single one of them) and it just broke my heart into a thousand tiny little pieces. They are tired and cranky and still not sure how to navigate each other, and all I want to do is take care of them and make them happy, make sure they enjoy the precious few moments they have left here, with each other – with me. And I didn’t know how. I don’t know how. I couldn’t fix it. And I don’t need to, I realize that. They are intelligent young adults (and also moody teenagers), they have to go through this, and they will come out on the other side. It’s just such a powerless feeling this feeling of ignorance, this knowledge that I am doing them a disservice because I am still learning how to be a good teacher, because I am on a learning curb. It’s not fair to them, and I’m sorry. All I could do was look them each in the eye and remind them of all the things that Mark and Andrea said to us at dinner yesterday. We are so lucky. We are so blessed. We are living the dream. People would kill to be where they are right now. To have the opportunity they have been given this summer. And I told them that there were moments running up to the intern showcase that I didn’t want to be in rehearsal, I was tired, I was in a bad mood, but you go in and you do the work, and by the end you’ve forgotten about the bad mood because you’ve remembered you love the work. And that I didn’t get my wildest fantasy to come true for the scene I directed in the intern showcase. I wanted to have that piece of paper flown in and I wanted those actors to spray paint tada across it. But I couldn’t. There was no space to fly it in, we didn’t have time or physical space to build something to put the paper on, and we were told flat out that we couldn’t use spray paint in the theatre. But we figured something out. It worked, it was wonderful. The obstacles in your way are the ones that are going to give you the best ideas. Great art comes from strife, comes from struggle.
I wanted to tell them that when I was told we were to have an intern showcase at the end of all of this I thought it was a HORRIBLE idea. I didn’t want to talk about it, I didn’t want to think about it, I hated it the way I hated group projects in college, no matter how much I loved the subject matter (probably more so the more you love it). There were so many strong personalities, so many directors, so many leaders, I thought it was going to be a royal mess or we were all going to end up killing each other or both. And sometimes it looked like it might end up that way. This was not all sunshine and lollipops, people. Exactly one week before the showcase I thought people were going to start spitting fire at one another, and I thought I might be one of them. There are times that it was not fun. There are times when this work is not fun. But you do it because you get to that moment when it feels like flying, you get to that moment when you realize there are people in the audience who are overwhelmed by the work you are doing.
I am going to see the showcase that these young people put on (or I hope I will, I might be back stage, but god I hope I get to sit and watch it) and someone is going to have to sit beside me and literally hold me together. They don’t know how beautiful they are. They do not know that they are sensational, that they deserve a medal for devoting all of this time to something that has been said several times this summer is a dieing art form. These apprentices are the people that will insure that that doesn’t happen. Even the ones who decide not to do theatre, they are the reason that theatre will continue to live. They hold the key in their hot hands and they are going to get up there on that stage and show us what it is and I won’t be able to hold it together.
I want to see it. I want to see the moment when they get up there under those lights and it all makes since. When this “process” that we’ve been dragging them through all lines up somehow, and in the midst of all this wonderfulness that is performance, the process was really the more important thing. I want to be there to see them have that moment of discovery when they realize the air is different on stage. The air is different on stage, did you know that? It’s different up there. It makes you breathe differently. It changes you.
Sam compared being an actor to Super Heroes. I can see that. It is mythological. I like my flying metaphor, because that’s what it always feels like to me. But it always makes me think of Peter Pan. Someone you can just look at and know that they have flown, that they have had the wind in their face, they’ve been kissed by it, and the effect lasts and lasts- on your face, it lives in your hair, your skin, your pours. That’s how I feel about performers. They’ve flown, they’ve ridden the wind, and the wind has touched them, and forever changed them, and the mark is on their bodies, and you can tell, you can just tell. I want to be there when they have that moment. When they experience that high.
I have to miss their last day. I will be flying away from them that last Friday night inconsolable. They have changed me. Emma has changed me, Peter has changed me, Rasheem has changed me, Whitney has changed me, Julia has changed me, Sarah Lee has changed me, Sam has changed me. I can only hope, only hope, only hope that I have had some small amount of that effect on them.
~ Laura (Roux)
p.s. It was after I had this talk with the apprentices that I realized “hey, miss i-am-going-to-walk-around-and-feel-sorry-for-myself-and-wallow-in-my-own-misery! Maybe you should take your own advice and remind yourself how lucky you are to be here. How incredibly lucky you are that you get to work at this place, with these people, with these interns, with these apprentices, with these actors (who once again, I must tell you, are soo incredible. And on top of that two of the most wonderful, genuine people I have ever met. COME SEE TRYST! IT IS SOO WORTH IT!). Shake it off already, will yah!
Tuesday, August 12, 2008
I'm on a high...
Do you know that feeling when you wake up and still feel the after-effects of what ever you did the night before? NO! I am not talking about being hung over! I woke up at 7 am, I suppose because my mind was restless, and all I could do was smile. The high I was on from the most amazing evening of theater I have ever been a part of was the best feeling in the world.
Every single one of these interns worked extremely hard on this showcase. Not because we had something to prove, but because we know that settling for anything less than our bests is a great disservice to all that we have learned at the Playhouse. There were many amazing moments that were a direct result of the evening: people laughed, people cried, our blogs were read by quite possibly the most intelligent, passionate women in theater, and Mark Shanahan knows my name now! But the most prolific, awe-inspiring result that came out of this evening: people were talking to each other about theater and WHY they love it and decided long ago that this was the right place for them. Mr. Shanahan put it best when he said that, “Sometimes it is so easy to forget WHY you love to do what you do. But when you remember, it makes all of the trials and tribulations that much more worth it.”
After the evening all of us interns had a little celebration. I had some of the best conversations, debates, and sing-a-longs I have ever had in my life. In my stupor, I suggested to Laura that we do “What’s the Question?” again and again and again. But she pointed out to me that the magic of that piece is those moments could never be recreated quite like they were that night. That piece in particular was wonderful and difficult, because we were forced to just be ourselves. To essentially be naked and be “okay” with telling people our hopes and fears. But because we were willing from the very beginning to throw our souls into the piece, I really did walk away from it saying, “WOW! We really made something there!”
Julie and I talked about the next steps and where do we go from here. I have two more years of training, but Julie has graduated. She is heading out into the real world. I told her, and I meant it, that she would change the world! I step back and look at that statement now and would like to say, “We (the interns of 08) will change the world!” I would work with every single one of you again and again!
Don’t ever stop doing what you LOVE to do! No matter how hard it is to feed yourself, pay the rent, or get the job at all. I am in this for the long run. Be bold, be brave! This is your art! This is your life!
Love Always,
Holly (finance intern)
I will be in London this coming semester and keeping up with the blog…. I hope you all do too!
Every single one of these interns worked extremely hard on this showcase. Not because we had something to prove, but because we know that settling for anything less than our bests is a great disservice to all that we have learned at the Playhouse. There were many amazing moments that were a direct result of the evening: people laughed, people cried, our blogs were read by quite possibly the most intelligent, passionate women in theater, and Mark Shanahan knows my name now! But the most prolific, awe-inspiring result that came out of this evening: people were talking to each other about theater and WHY they love it and decided long ago that this was the right place for them. Mr. Shanahan put it best when he said that, “Sometimes it is so easy to forget WHY you love to do what you do. But when you remember, it makes all of the trials and tribulations that much more worth it.”
After the evening all of us interns had a little celebration. I had some of the best conversations, debates, and sing-a-longs I have ever had in my life. In my stupor, I suggested to Laura that we do “What’s the Question?” again and again and again. But she pointed out to me that the magic of that piece is those moments could never be recreated quite like they were that night. That piece in particular was wonderful and difficult, because we were forced to just be ourselves. To essentially be naked and be “okay” with telling people our hopes and fears. But because we were willing from the very beginning to throw our souls into the piece, I really did walk away from it saying, “WOW! We really made something there!”
Julie and I talked about the next steps and where do we go from here. I have two more years of training, but Julie has graduated. She is heading out into the real world. I told her, and I meant it, that she would change the world! I step back and look at that statement now and would like to say, “We (the interns of 08) will change the world!” I would work with every single one of you again and again!
Don’t ever stop doing what you LOVE to do! No matter how hard it is to feed yourself, pay the rent, or get the job at all. I am in this for the long run. Be bold, be brave! This is your art! This is your life!
Love Always,
Holly (finance intern)
I will be in London this coming semester and keeping up with the blog…. I hope you all do too!
Wednesday, August 6, 2008
I love the smell of theatre in the morning
What I think about Tech week:
Tech can be tedious. It can even be boring. As an actor I usually dread tech – because it’s usually a lot of standing around, which is hard on the body, or just getting into a line or a feeling or a moment when things are stopped. As run crew it can just plain be boring: a lot of waiting around and not being allowed to goof off. As a stage manager, well, I’ve never really had to deal with the kind of tech we’re talking about. My one and only real stage management gig was right before I came here and I had to call the show blind. It was an environmental piece, where the actors and audience were moving around. I only had one camera for my monitor, so I could only see the first scene. The rest of it was called off of the sound of curtains opening and closing. There were very few fine adjustments I had control over.
But this. Oh god, this. This is amazing. We get here and start setting things up, and then they start working. And it’s the work people, the work. Watching the work, by people who really know what they’re doing and have been given the opportunity to do it right.
The apprentices are back stage moving things around. Originally I was going to be back stage “shadowing” them, just in case, you know. But there are so many people back stage that one person not really doing anything would just get in the way. So I got to sit out in the house and watch. I just thought it was fascinating. I just sat there, arms folded on top of the seat in front of me as I leaned forward to drink it all in – mouth ajar like a kid in a candy store. Every choice, every discussion, every breath was fascinating. How the director would ask for one subtle change to be made and that one thing would make all the difference. A whole new world opened up. I wasn’t too sure about the script when I read it, but the collaboration that these two actors (who are just soooo incredible) and this director and these designers came up with have made this show singularly remarkable. They have made me hold my breath, they have made me cry, they have made me laugh, and they have made me think. Even more than that, they have made me grateful: Grateful to witness . . . something remarkable. Grateful to witness theatre. And we forget- we forget that this thing we do is a gift. We forget to be grateful.
And that’s the thing. Well, one of the things that makes this show so different from the other two shows that have been done since I’ve been here. It’s the pure theatricality of it. Not just the type of play, not just the type of actors, not even the type of designers. All of them put together, and the thing itself has become an EVENT. And that’s what theatre should be. If nothing else theatre should be an event. A happening. An unstoppable force of nature held in one moment of time. This show opens with those lights, and one incredible sound effect, a sound so big it literally blows you away (I mean, I could feel my pant legs waving)- and it sends one very clear, very important message – hold onto your seats, ladies and gentleman, this is an EVENT. SOMETHING is about to go down. Suddenly instead of just watching theatre we are EXPERIENCING it.
Julia, one of the apprentices, wrote in her blog an Anne Bogart quote, which was something along the lines of “I go to a movie to sit back. I go to the theatre to lean forward.” That’s what this show makes me do. It not just invites me to lean forward, it compels me to, it demands me to, it accepts nothing less – and I oblige willingly.
I told Sam, one of the apprentices, that if I were back stage with them I would probably spend the copious down town they have sitting back there, listening, watching as much as I could, with my jaw open. He didn’t believe me. He said maybe for the first couple of shows but eventually – and I said no. I’ve been doing this for a while. On almost every show I’ve worked back stage on I’m afraid to leave for fear that I will miss something. Some new discovery, some new moment, some part of that glorious, living, breathing action I am thirsting for. Sure there have been shows where I have grown more cynical – but this one . . . I would rather spend the rest of my time here doing nothing but watching these people rehearse and then perform than anything else (sorry apprentices). Okay, I would miss out on a lot of stuff that I would regret later, important things that I really don’t want to miss, but . . . what a way to get to spend my time. I learn from every breath Mark and Andrea (the actors) take. I learn from every syllable that Joe (the director) and the designers utter. I had a good time watching Scramble tech, and I learned a lot from that as well, but this – there’s just something about this show, man. If you don’t come to witness this, you’re a fool. Come experience this event, this happening with us. I will be sneaking into the balcony and holding on to every second right along with you.
~ Laura (Roux)
Tech can be tedious. It can even be boring. As an actor I usually dread tech – because it’s usually a lot of standing around, which is hard on the body, or just getting into a line or a feeling or a moment when things are stopped. As run crew it can just plain be boring: a lot of waiting around and not being allowed to goof off. As a stage manager, well, I’ve never really had to deal with the kind of tech we’re talking about. My one and only real stage management gig was right before I came here and I had to call the show blind. It was an environmental piece, where the actors and audience were moving around. I only had one camera for my monitor, so I could only see the first scene. The rest of it was called off of the sound of curtains opening and closing. There were very few fine adjustments I had control over.
But this. Oh god, this. This is amazing. We get here and start setting things up, and then they start working. And it’s the work people, the work. Watching the work, by people who really know what they’re doing and have been given the opportunity to do it right.
The apprentices are back stage moving things around. Originally I was going to be back stage “shadowing” them, just in case, you know. But there are so many people back stage that one person not really doing anything would just get in the way. So I got to sit out in the house and watch. I just thought it was fascinating. I just sat there, arms folded on top of the seat in front of me as I leaned forward to drink it all in – mouth ajar like a kid in a candy store. Every choice, every discussion, every breath was fascinating. How the director would ask for one subtle change to be made and that one thing would make all the difference. A whole new world opened up. I wasn’t too sure about the script when I read it, but the collaboration that these two actors (who are just soooo incredible) and this director and these designers came up with have made this show singularly remarkable. They have made me hold my breath, they have made me cry, they have made me laugh, and they have made me think. Even more than that, they have made me grateful: Grateful to witness . . . something remarkable. Grateful to witness theatre. And we forget- we forget that this thing we do is a gift. We forget to be grateful.
And that’s the thing. Well, one of the things that makes this show so different from the other two shows that have been done since I’ve been here. It’s the pure theatricality of it. Not just the type of play, not just the type of actors, not even the type of designers. All of them put together, and the thing itself has become an EVENT. And that’s what theatre should be. If nothing else theatre should be an event. A happening. An unstoppable force of nature held in one moment of time. This show opens with those lights, and one incredible sound effect, a sound so big it literally blows you away (I mean, I could feel my pant legs waving)- and it sends one very clear, very important message – hold onto your seats, ladies and gentleman, this is an EVENT. SOMETHING is about to go down. Suddenly instead of just watching theatre we are EXPERIENCING it.
Julia, one of the apprentices, wrote in her blog an Anne Bogart quote, which was something along the lines of “I go to a movie to sit back. I go to the theatre to lean forward.” That’s what this show makes me do. It not just invites me to lean forward, it compels me to, it demands me to, it accepts nothing less – and I oblige willingly.
I told Sam, one of the apprentices, that if I were back stage with them I would probably spend the copious down town they have sitting back there, listening, watching as much as I could, with my jaw open. He didn’t believe me. He said maybe for the first couple of shows but eventually – and I said no. I’ve been doing this for a while. On almost every show I’ve worked back stage on I’m afraid to leave for fear that I will miss something. Some new discovery, some new moment, some part of that glorious, living, breathing action I am thirsting for. Sure there have been shows where I have grown more cynical – but this one . . . I would rather spend the rest of my time here doing nothing but watching these people rehearse and then perform than anything else (sorry apprentices). Okay, I would miss out on a lot of stuff that I would regret later, important things that I really don’t want to miss, but . . . what a way to get to spend my time. I learn from every breath Mark and Andrea (the actors) take. I learn from every syllable that Joe (the director) and the designers utter. I had a good time watching Scramble tech, and I learned a lot from that as well, but this – there’s just something about this show, man. If you don’t come to witness this, you’re a fool. Come experience this event, this happening with us. I will be sneaking into the balcony and holding on to every second right along with you.
~ Laura (Roux)
Sunday, August 3, 2008
something silly and off topic
hey guys,
So this is what my friends back home do when they get bored. They are too smart for their own good.
If you think Dick Cheney jokes are funny, like cheerleaders, or just like music and videos from the 80s, you should check out this youtube video.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Enw6ajiyLFI
enjoy!
~ Laura (Roux)
So this is what my friends back home do when they get bored. They are too smart for their own good.
If you think Dick Cheney jokes are funny, like cheerleaders, or just like music and videos from the 80s, you should check out this youtube video.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Enw6ajiyLFI
enjoy!
~ Laura (Roux)
Friday, August 1, 2008
let that be a lesson to you/collaboration
My muse does not like to be ignored. Monday night we had this fabulous meeting/rehearsal/jam session for the show I’m creating for the showcase. I mean, it was just . . . a dream. I don’t know how else to describe it. All I wanted to do afterwards was go home and edit the script, change the things we had talked about, and then blog about how wonderful the evening had gone. Instead I stayed up till five in the morning talking about boys and watching girly movies with Holly and Megan. And that was great, too. Much needed and absolutely what the moment called for. However, when you ignore your muse, she tends to punish you. I’m sorry, let me speak in the “I” voice, the way I tell the apprentices to do. When I ignore my muse she tends to punish me. So Tuesday I get the day off, but instead of using Tuesday to get all the stuff done I didn’t do the night before, I did nothing. What happens when you ignore your muse? She makes you unable to sleep as a thousand and one things slip through your head: ideas for plays having nothing to do with this one, and 8 million other things that won’t let you sleep. So Wednesday I’m still exhausted and not feeling like I had a day off at all. Then Wednesday night I know I don’t have to come in till later on Thursday, so I get all of the stuff done I didn’t do before. Which was great. I finished my script, I read two other scripts, I put away my clothes and made up my bed, I sent out e-mails, I reorganized, I figured out my schedule for some things. Great. But it still made getting up Thursday soooo hard. Let that be a lesson to me. Don’t ignore my muse (don’t you like how I completely placed the blame on a mythical being and not on myself?).
So. Monday night. Ah yes. I’ve had two rehearsals/jam sessions now with this piece and I want to tell you a little bit about it. So if you don’t want to have some showcase stuff spoiled for you, please do not read on.
SHOWCASE SPOILER BELOW!
I’ve written this type of thing before. This collaborative “I’ll come up with a structure, then I want you guys to write on some topics, then I’ll throw it all together, we’ll all throw in some ideas, shake it up and see what we get” sort of thing. I love it. Great work comes out of it. The problem with this one was I didn’t have a question. I usually have one specific question that encompasses the plight of the twenty- something and where these specific people are in their lives. The questions of the past were “what does it mean?” and “What now?” They are pretty generic, but they help create a through line and they speak specifically to what is going on in our lives, or more specifically, what’s going on in my life. I usually go in knowing what question I want to ask. I didn’t this time.
I knew the general shape and the basic topics I wanted to touch upon, some of the devices I would like to try and use. But I didn’t have a question. I didn’t think this was a problem until we read one of my previous pieces and Ashley asked me “So what’s the question for this one?” “Do you think we need one?” “Yes.” “I’ll think on it” So when I was sending out e-mails asking people to respond to certain prompts so their writing could contribute to the piece, I also sent out possible questions for the show to be centered around. The questions were as follows:What Next? Where do I go from here? What have I learned? What’s Possible? What’s Probable? What’s really important?
And I asked each person to give me their opinions on these as possible title/themes. Then I started thinking. The fact that I (or any of us) didn’t have a specific question in mind for this project spoke directly to our experience here, spoke volumes about where we are in our lives. Think about it. Few of us are doing internships that are actually what we want to do in the theatre. Most of us are performers, writers, directors at heart. Those are our dreams. But there are only so many artistic spots open, there are no play writing internships here and there are not performance internships here. So we chose what we did, and we did so for a reason. We all chose our internships for different reasons, but most of us came to get our foot in the door. You have to start somewhere. This way we get to work at a reputable theatre company, get in some experience that we wouldn’t otherwise, and get some contacts. Get our faces seen by important people. Make it known that we are hard workers, and if we are hard workers doing this, think how hard we will work doing that thing we REALLY love to do, whatever that thing is. I do want to teach, and I knew this would be great for me to learn and grow as a teacher. But teaching is not all I want to do. Plus I think in order to be a good teacher you have to DO as well. If I want to teach performance then I should have experience as a performer. If I want to direct teenagers in shows, then I should have experience as a director. If I want to write or help teenagers to write, then I should have experience as a writer. These are important things. These are the reasons we came here. However the problem with accepting an internship doing something you’re not necessarily super passionate about has its problems (obviously).
It was asked of us, for our interim reviews, to think about what we wanted to get out of this internship, and if we were getting it. So many of our responses were “I don’t know what I want out of this internship”. Look at where we are in our lives. Some of us are still in college, some of us are freshly out. It is helpful to see all the different sides, the different opportunities in a working theatre, but honestly most of us are still figuring it out, and will be figuring it out for a while to come. Of course we don’t know what we wanted out of this internship. Some of us didn’t fully know what all this internship was going to be till we got here, and some of us still don’t fully know what our time is going to be spent doing.
Debra and I sat down to have a discussion about freelance teaching. She has a lot of experience in this area, so it was deemed that she was the best person to talk to. One of the first things she asked me was “Where do you want to teach” “uhhh, I don’t know” and I didn’t know. I still don’t. She said it made a big difference - where I wanted to be. What section of the country, and then more specifically, teaching in a school , at a specific theatre, or pure freelance? “uhhh, I don’t know. Is there a place you would recommend?” Debra’s response was “do you really want me to decide where you’re going to be for you?” Well . . . no.
So I guess what I am trying to say is . . . none of us have figured out what questions we want to ask. There has been so much talk about what theatre is, what theatre should be, could be, what type of theatre we all aspire to do. These are all abstract, broad questions, but they are so important to know the answers to because it is only then that we can know what our next step is. I don’t know what questions I want to ask. That is what I have gotten out of this internship. I have to figure out the questions I want to ask. Questions like: Where do I want to be? What do I want to do?What do I want to teach? Do I want to teach? Why would I chose to be somewhere? What opportunities would that afford me? Not just, what do I want to get out of this internship, but what opportunities are possible in this internship? What is it possible to get out of this internship? Where do I want this internship to take me?
I don’t know, I don’t know, I don’t know. But I am aware the questions are out there. And I now know that it is important to ask them first. Whereas, this time, a big part of taking this internship for me was purely to get out of Raleigh, NC and do theatre somewhere else. Somewhere bigger. Somewhere truly professional. Next time that will not be my reasoning. My reasoning will be that I want to go to a place specifically to be in THAT place, to do THAT work, to affect THOSE people. That’s what I’ve gotten out of this internship - a truly fantastic gift. I’m starting to understand the questions that I need to be asking in order to make my way in this life – not just my way in the theatre- but my way in life. 5 ½ years of undergrad didn’t teach me that. But one summer here did. That’s pretty incredible.
So I decided that the question/theme of the piece was going to be “What’s the Question?” It seemed appropriate.
I meant to write more on how wonderful the collaboration of this piece has been- with Julie and Ashley writing, and Holly, Sarah, and Michael writing and being in the piece, Michael playing the guitar and adding in instrumental incidental music. Basically we’re hanging out and having fun. That’s what theatre should be. But I’ll write more on collaboration later. This entry is already 2 ½ pages in a Word Document, and that is far too much for one entry. I am too prolific for my own good.
~ Laura (Roux)
So. Monday night. Ah yes. I’ve had two rehearsals/jam sessions now with this piece and I want to tell you a little bit about it. So if you don’t want to have some showcase stuff spoiled for you, please do not read on.
SHOWCASE SPOILER BELOW!
I’ve written this type of thing before. This collaborative “I’ll come up with a structure, then I want you guys to write on some topics, then I’ll throw it all together, we’ll all throw in some ideas, shake it up and see what we get” sort of thing. I love it. Great work comes out of it. The problem with this one was I didn’t have a question. I usually have one specific question that encompasses the plight of the twenty- something and where these specific people are in their lives. The questions of the past were “what does it mean?” and “What now?” They are pretty generic, but they help create a through line and they speak specifically to what is going on in our lives, or more specifically, what’s going on in my life. I usually go in knowing what question I want to ask. I didn’t this time.
I knew the general shape and the basic topics I wanted to touch upon, some of the devices I would like to try and use. But I didn’t have a question. I didn’t think this was a problem until we read one of my previous pieces and Ashley asked me “So what’s the question for this one?” “Do you think we need one?” “Yes.” “I’ll think on it” So when I was sending out e-mails asking people to respond to certain prompts so their writing could contribute to the piece, I also sent out possible questions for the show to be centered around. The questions were as follows:What Next? Where do I go from here? What have I learned? What’s Possible? What’s Probable? What’s really important?
And I asked each person to give me their opinions on these as possible title/themes. Then I started thinking. The fact that I (or any of us) didn’t have a specific question in mind for this project spoke directly to our experience here, spoke volumes about where we are in our lives. Think about it. Few of us are doing internships that are actually what we want to do in the theatre. Most of us are performers, writers, directors at heart. Those are our dreams. But there are only so many artistic spots open, there are no play writing internships here and there are not performance internships here. So we chose what we did, and we did so for a reason. We all chose our internships for different reasons, but most of us came to get our foot in the door. You have to start somewhere. This way we get to work at a reputable theatre company, get in some experience that we wouldn’t otherwise, and get some contacts. Get our faces seen by important people. Make it known that we are hard workers, and if we are hard workers doing this, think how hard we will work doing that thing we REALLY love to do, whatever that thing is. I do want to teach, and I knew this would be great for me to learn and grow as a teacher. But teaching is not all I want to do. Plus I think in order to be a good teacher you have to DO as well. If I want to teach performance then I should have experience as a performer. If I want to direct teenagers in shows, then I should have experience as a director. If I want to write or help teenagers to write, then I should have experience as a writer. These are important things. These are the reasons we came here. However the problem with accepting an internship doing something you’re not necessarily super passionate about has its problems (obviously).
It was asked of us, for our interim reviews, to think about what we wanted to get out of this internship, and if we were getting it. So many of our responses were “I don’t know what I want out of this internship”. Look at where we are in our lives. Some of us are still in college, some of us are freshly out. It is helpful to see all the different sides, the different opportunities in a working theatre, but honestly most of us are still figuring it out, and will be figuring it out for a while to come. Of course we don’t know what we wanted out of this internship. Some of us didn’t fully know what all this internship was going to be till we got here, and some of us still don’t fully know what our time is going to be spent doing.
Debra and I sat down to have a discussion about freelance teaching. She has a lot of experience in this area, so it was deemed that she was the best person to talk to. One of the first things she asked me was “Where do you want to teach” “uhhh, I don’t know” and I didn’t know. I still don’t. She said it made a big difference - where I wanted to be. What section of the country, and then more specifically, teaching in a school , at a specific theatre, or pure freelance? “uhhh, I don’t know. Is there a place you would recommend?” Debra’s response was “do you really want me to decide where you’re going to be for you?” Well . . . no.
So I guess what I am trying to say is . . . none of us have figured out what questions we want to ask. There has been so much talk about what theatre is, what theatre should be, could be, what type of theatre we all aspire to do. These are all abstract, broad questions, but they are so important to know the answers to because it is only then that we can know what our next step is. I don’t know what questions I want to ask. That is what I have gotten out of this internship. I have to figure out the questions I want to ask. Questions like: Where do I want to be? What do I want to do?What do I want to teach? Do I want to teach? Why would I chose to be somewhere? What opportunities would that afford me? Not just, what do I want to get out of this internship, but what opportunities are possible in this internship? What is it possible to get out of this internship? Where do I want this internship to take me?
I don’t know, I don’t know, I don’t know. But I am aware the questions are out there. And I now know that it is important to ask them first. Whereas, this time, a big part of taking this internship for me was purely to get out of Raleigh, NC and do theatre somewhere else. Somewhere bigger. Somewhere truly professional. Next time that will not be my reasoning. My reasoning will be that I want to go to a place specifically to be in THAT place, to do THAT work, to affect THOSE people. That’s what I’ve gotten out of this internship - a truly fantastic gift. I’m starting to understand the questions that I need to be asking in order to make my way in this life – not just my way in the theatre- but my way in life. 5 ½ years of undergrad didn’t teach me that. But one summer here did. That’s pretty incredible.
So I decided that the question/theme of the piece was going to be “What’s the Question?” It seemed appropriate.
I meant to write more on how wonderful the collaboration of this piece has been- with Julie and Ashley writing, and Holly, Sarah, and Michael writing and being in the piece, Michael playing the guitar and adding in instrumental incidental music. Basically we’re hanging out and having fun. That’s what theatre should be. But I’ll write more on collaboration later. This entry is already 2 ½ pages in a Word Document, and that is far too much for one entry. I am too prolific for my own good.
~ Laura (Roux)
Tuesday, July 29, 2008
And now for something completely different
I’m pretty confident in myself. Sure there’s the whole social anxiety thing but once I get used to a place and its people that tends to let up a little. I am uncomfortable around men. I just am. I don’t know the reason for it, but I just have trouble completely relaxing in the company of men. It’s something that has gotten better in the past few years. I know who I am, I know what I am good at, I know that I am intelligent and well educated, and I have confidence in that intelligence and education. At the same time I am not ashamed when there are things I don’t know. I am human, and while I am well educated, it’s just not possible for me to know everything. I like to learn new things and explore new possibilities, new ways of thinking. I don’t mind, when in conversation with people, admitting that I don’t know what someone is referencing, saying I’ve never heard of a topic, a person, a piece of music, a type of food. As such, while I may question my worth in beauty on occasion, I don’t usually question my worth in personality, humor, intelligence.
And yet . . . there are some men out there that take my feet out from underneath me. My friend Kat never seems to have this problem. She can enter into intellectual debate on any topic with any person. She seems to get better at it and enjoy it more when she is having this debate with someone she likes. I like strong personalities, she’s one of them. Normally I am not so bad at this sort of debate myself. I was vice president of the speech and debate team in high school after all. For some reason, despite my knowledge of my own self worth, on occasion I meet a man that makes me feel like I don’t know what I am talking about no matter what subject we are on. These men are rare, but they are out there. They have this effect on me through no fault of their own, but none the less, they are there. It just sucks that these are usually the men I find myself most drawn to. So basically I get drawn to them, and then I can’t speak around them.
I live with a bunch of girls, so there has been plenty of relationship talk throughout the summer. The majority of us are single, so that leads to lots of conversations about what we want: Out of a man, out of a relationship, out of life. I went to an all women’s college, so I’m used to these situations, I’m used to there being a lot of estrogen in the room. It’s not all we talk about. We talk much more about theatre, and art and life. But on occasion we talk about boys. Last night was one of those times. Three girls, sitting around, talking about relationships till ungodly hours of the night, and then watching girly movies. I love nights like that. I love expressing my femininity and bonding with other women. I do not think this makes us weak, on the contrary, I think it is our bonds with each other that makes us strong as women.
One of the greatest parts of working at this theatre is that it is run by some very strong, outstanding women. With Anne, Joanne, and Jodi at the helm this theatre has weathered storm after storm. These women are remarkable, unbelievable. They were a big part of my decision making process in coming here. I was doing research on this theatre and said to myself “wow, look at that. 3 women are at the head of this place. That is just fantastic” and then I get here and I meet Debra at the head of the education department. That woman . . . inspires awe in me. Marcia’s head of Devo, Ruth’s taking care of everything on the production end, and so many other strong, talented women giving their all (and that’s a heck of a lot) to make this theatre become the best that it can be. That is incredibly refreshing. I just can’t express enough how wonderful that is, as a young woman, to come and see this many incredible women running the place.
This world has come a long way. This society has come a long way. The tides are changing and will continue to change. I would like to be one of those outstanding female leaders. I want to be an outstanding leader because I am a woman. I want to be outstanding because of who I am, not just because I am a woman. I want to lead American theatre to a new greatness. I want to be an important part of that. It’s because of women like the ones at this theatre paving the way that I am able to believe that is possible.
And yet . . . every once in a while, I meet a man who makes me feel like I don’t know what I’m talking about. What does that mean? He’s not being a block head, he’s not trying to put me down as a woman, he’s not trying to do anything to me. He was just trying to have a conversation. But because I really dig the guy, I am suddenly unable to stand on my own two feet around him. Does this happen to anybody else? Did any of the women I just mentioned above ever experience this? Do any of them still experience it? I have trouble believing any of them do.
So I guess I’m just going to have to struggle through, and do my best to keep my footing. I’m old enough to be able to figure out how to do that, right?
~ Laura (Roux)
And yet . . . there are some men out there that take my feet out from underneath me. My friend Kat never seems to have this problem. She can enter into intellectual debate on any topic with any person. She seems to get better at it and enjoy it more when she is having this debate with someone she likes. I like strong personalities, she’s one of them. Normally I am not so bad at this sort of debate myself. I was vice president of the speech and debate team in high school after all. For some reason, despite my knowledge of my own self worth, on occasion I meet a man that makes me feel like I don’t know what I am talking about no matter what subject we are on. These men are rare, but they are out there. They have this effect on me through no fault of their own, but none the less, they are there. It just sucks that these are usually the men I find myself most drawn to. So basically I get drawn to them, and then I can’t speak around them.
I live with a bunch of girls, so there has been plenty of relationship talk throughout the summer. The majority of us are single, so that leads to lots of conversations about what we want: Out of a man, out of a relationship, out of life. I went to an all women’s college, so I’m used to these situations, I’m used to there being a lot of estrogen in the room. It’s not all we talk about. We talk much more about theatre, and art and life. But on occasion we talk about boys. Last night was one of those times. Three girls, sitting around, talking about relationships till ungodly hours of the night, and then watching girly movies. I love nights like that. I love expressing my femininity and bonding with other women. I do not think this makes us weak, on the contrary, I think it is our bonds with each other that makes us strong as women.
One of the greatest parts of working at this theatre is that it is run by some very strong, outstanding women. With Anne, Joanne, and Jodi at the helm this theatre has weathered storm after storm. These women are remarkable, unbelievable. They were a big part of my decision making process in coming here. I was doing research on this theatre and said to myself “wow, look at that. 3 women are at the head of this place. That is just fantastic” and then I get here and I meet Debra at the head of the education department. That woman . . . inspires awe in me. Marcia’s head of Devo, Ruth’s taking care of everything on the production end, and so many other strong, talented women giving their all (and that’s a heck of a lot) to make this theatre become the best that it can be. That is incredibly refreshing. I just can’t express enough how wonderful that is, as a young woman, to come and see this many incredible women running the place.
This world has come a long way. This society has come a long way. The tides are changing and will continue to change. I would like to be one of those outstanding female leaders. I want to be an outstanding leader because I am a woman. I want to be outstanding because of who I am, not just because I am a woman. I want to lead American theatre to a new greatness. I want to be an important part of that. It’s because of women like the ones at this theatre paving the way that I am able to believe that is possible.
And yet . . . every once in a while, I meet a man who makes me feel like I don’t know what I’m talking about. What does that mean? He’s not being a block head, he’s not trying to put me down as a woman, he’s not trying to do anything to me. He was just trying to have a conversation. But because I really dig the guy, I am suddenly unable to stand on my own two feet around him. Does this happen to anybody else? Did any of the women I just mentioned above ever experience this? Do any of them still experience it? I have trouble believing any of them do.
So I guess I’m just going to have to struggle through, and do my best to keep my footing. I’m old enough to be able to figure out how to do that, right?
~ Laura (Roux)
Wednesday, July 23, 2008
Personal Responsibilty as Artists
I’ve been thinking a lot about “What I think Theatre should be?” Laura posed this question in our Showcase writing email. It was odd because this question seemed to be the easiest and the hardest one to answer. I have always believed that Theatre could really be anything! It can be whatever you want it to be. I’ve just never really thought about what I want from Theatre. I am one of those idealistic people who have invested all of their faith in the idea that Theatre can change the world. One moment can change another person’s entire perspective on the world. That’s all it really takes one moment. And for all we know that person, whose perspective is radically changed, could become President of the United States.
Brecht’s concept of “Epic Theatre” in particular really inspired me. He believed that Theatre should be more than entertainment and an imitation of life. It should present some sort of social or political ideas and allow the audience to make judgments on them. The goal is to make people walk away and want to do something about the current state of the world or their own lives. Brecht was a bit more politically motivated than I am, clearly. I would be ecstatic if a man saw Take Me Out (a good solid play about homosexuality) and walked out of the theater to call his son and tell him that he accepts him for who he is. (I mean that’s the best case scenario) In fact, I would be happy if people hate the show because it at least they were thinking! This brings me to my next issue: our personal responsibility as artists to put up good, thought-provoking and yet still entertaining work.
We are taught in life that with each year of our growth we will have more and more responsibilities. There is a point in an individual’s development when we realize that we can no longer allow other people to be responsible for our lives anymore. That means that when something doesn’t quite go your way, you don’t sit there and start blaming it on someone else or another unforeseen variable. You should assess the situation and find where you might have made a mistake or a misstep. This logic should apply to our art as well. I have learned in school that if the scene isn’t working you DO NOT BLAME IT ON YOUR SCENE PARTNER. If they aren’t giving their all to the work you talk to them or you work even harder to try and get something out of them. If you blame it on them you have already failed. I have found that some people have been blaming the recent decline in audience interest in Theatre is because: we can’t compete with the movies, or it’s too expensive. While these are good points, (I made them in my earlier blog, this is me talking to myself as well) what we should be doing is digging deeper and writing plays that can be entertaining but also make our audience think. We need make things more accessible to high school and college students (the people who will change the world).
But most importantly, I think that we, as young artists, have to take hold of our generation’s voice and use it. It is our personal responsibility to listen to our guts, hearts, and minds and put on work that we can walk away from and KNOW that we really made something there! That we created a piece of art that speaks to the up and coming leaders of the world. If we ignore what’s happening around us and to us, then we fail the scene, theatre, and the world. So I guess, what I’m saying is that the kind of theatre I want to see out there I one that voices my generation. And helps us figure out where we are going.
Brecht’s concept of “Epic Theatre” in particular really inspired me. He believed that Theatre should be more than entertainment and an imitation of life. It should present some sort of social or political ideas and allow the audience to make judgments on them. The goal is to make people walk away and want to do something about the current state of the world or their own lives. Brecht was a bit more politically motivated than I am, clearly. I would be ecstatic if a man saw Take Me Out (a good solid play about homosexuality) and walked out of the theater to call his son and tell him that he accepts him for who he is. (I mean that’s the best case scenario) In fact, I would be happy if people hate the show because it at least they were thinking! This brings me to my next issue: our personal responsibility as artists to put up good, thought-provoking and yet still entertaining work.
We are taught in life that with each year of our growth we will have more and more responsibilities. There is a point in an individual’s development when we realize that we can no longer allow other people to be responsible for our lives anymore. That means that when something doesn’t quite go your way, you don’t sit there and start blaming it on someone else or another unforeseen variable. You should assess the situation and find where you might have made a mistake or a misstep. This logic should apply to our art as well. I have learned in school that if the scene isn’t working you DO NOT BLAME IT ON YOUR SCENE PARTNER. If they aren’t giving their all to the work you talk to them or you work even harder to try and get something out of them. If you blame it on them you have already failed. I have found that some people have been blaming the recent decline in audience interest in Theatre is because: we can’t compete with the movies, or it’s too expensive. While these are good points, (I made them in my earlier blog, this is me talking to myself as well) what we should be doing is digging deeper and writing plays that can be entertaining but also make our audience think. We need make things more accessible to high school and college students (the people who will change the world).
But most importantly, I think that we, as young artists, have to take hold of our generation’s voice and use it. It is our personal responsibility to listen to our guts, hearts, and minds and put on work that we can walk away from and KNOW that we really made something there! That we created a piece of art that speaks to the up and coming leaders of the world. If we ignore what’s happening around us and to us, then we fail the scene, theatre, and the world. So I guess, what I’m saying is that the kind of theatre I want to see out there I one that voices my generation. And helps us figure out where we are going.
Safety and Instant Gratification
Hey guys, this shouldn't just be the Laura Blog. Could someone else please post something?
So a lot happened over the past week or so. Last week I spent some time in the same theatre with Christopher Walken and Joanne Woodward, watching them work. I also got to watch all the rest of the phenomenal actors on stage with them work, and was able to observe them having a lot of fun with their craft. We had our own play reading at the intern house last Tuesday, which was great, and I hope it started a tradition. I got to meet Gene Wilder, I got to meet Bill Haber, I got to meet and talk to a bunch of interesting people, I learned a lot of new things, I had fun. But surprisingly, the thing that affected me most was the midnight showing of The Dark Knight last Thursday night.
It’s not for the reasons you think. While The Dark Knight itself was a fascinating movie, the thing that stuck with me more was the conversation Holly and I had with one of the guys sitting in front of us while we were waiting for the show to start.
He was from Boston (not that that matters for the story), and he was there with some friends and we were all chatting about this and that as we waited for the movie to begin. Somehow we started talking about movie musicals, and that lead us to RENT the movie, and why it sucked and did horribly at the box office when the stage show is so fantastic. There are several reasons for this. The one I chose to harp on was the director. You don’t get the guy who directed Home Alone to direct RENT. You get someone like Spike Lee to direct RENT. And this guy I was talking to laughed, and then that got us onto Spike Lee, and he said Spike Lee didn’t like white people. Holly made the point that he also didn’t like ignorant black people. I made the point that most of us don’t like ignorant people, period, regardless of race. That brought us to the conversation on how to reverse ignorance and bigotry. I made the comment that I have tried with several people with out success, that some people just don’t want to open their minds. He said he didn’t believe this was true. Everyone really wants to have their minds open no matter how much they fight it initially. I thought this was really interesting. Holly and I asked him to please give us an example of this. So he started talking about today’s society being so focused on instant gratification.
WALL-E (another movie that has had a profound effect on me this summer) is a movie that demonstrates our societies demand for instant gratification. We see something, we want it, we get it. Simple as that. We have come to think that if we try something a couple of times and it doesn’t work this means it’s impossible. We have forgotten the art of wearing someone down. Of persistence. Of not giving up. (Which is bad, because you can bet the religious zealots out there have not forgotten). Of digging in, staying in the trenches, and really working for something.
This made me think. Just saying that you are in a safe environment doesn’t mean that you are. Just giving lip service to something doesn’t mean it exists. Maybe we are giving lip service to something we haven’t bothered to create. And maybe we haven’t bothered to create it because we are used to instantly getting things we want. For example, I can go on i-tunes right now, click on a button, and download the song Safety Dance instantly. Then it’s mine. I own it. I can listen to is whenever I want. But does that mean I really know how to do the safety dance? No.
These things take time. It takes time and a well thought out overview of things to create a safe environment. We have to know that everything we do, every activity, every word that comes out of our mouths is in service to this thing. Jodi came in to talk to the apprentices today and it was profound and wonderful. She talked a lot about staying centered, about knowing what you are all about and staying true to that, and making sure that everything you are doing is in service to that. It’s hard. It’s time consuming, energy consuming, brain consuming. But it’s worth it. This also ties in with Debra’s whole thing about the big picture. Sure we could do a lot of really cool things, but wouldn’t it be better if we could do a lot of really cool things in service to something? In service to something larger?
None of this is to say that something like creating a safe environment isn’t owed lip service. The power of positive thinking is a truly amazing thing, and so to just keep repeating the phrase “safe environment” is a powerful thing. Maybe if we keep encouraging it we can slowly build it anyway. A sort of “if you build it, he will come” sort of philosophy.Something else that Jodi said stuck with me. Well, a lot of things Jodi said today stuck with me, but here’s the one I’m going to harp on for the moment. There are certain things that have happened around here before we were fully ready, as an institution, for them to happen. That reminded me, strangely, of the movie Under The Tuscan Sun. A man in that movie tells the story that they built train tracks over the Swiss Alps before there was a train that could make the trip. They built it because they knew one day there would be a train that could do it. One day the train would come. So maybe we’re not ready now. But maybe we built it because we knew one day we would be. Because, maybe, in building the tracks first, we preemptively lay the foundation for what we would like to become, what we would like to happen. I mean, hey, once you found out those tracks were there, there was no choice but to build a train that could fill them.
Maybe we say we are in a safe environment to send the message that we need to create one. That it is important to create one. That it is our priority to create one. And that we’re in it for the long hall. We will stay here (or outside with our parking cones) until we get a safe environment, because we’ve built the tracks. So now we have no choice but to build the train.
~ Laura (Roux)
So a lot happened over the past week or so. Last week I spent some time in the same theatre with Christopher Walken and Joanne Woodward, watching them work. I also got to watch all the rest of the phenomenal actors on stage with them work, and was able to observe them having a lot of fun with their craft. We had our own play reading at the intern house last Tuesday, which was great, and I hope it started a tradition. I got to meet Gene Wilder, I got to meet Bill Haber, I got to meet and talk to a bunch of interesting people, I learned a lot of new things, I had fun. But surprisingly, the thing that affected me most was the midnight showing of The Dark Knight last Thursday night.
It’s not for the reasons you think. While The Dark Knight itself was a fascinating movie, the thing that stuck with me more was the conversation Holly and I had with one of the guys sitting in front of us while we were waiting for the show to start.
He was from Boston (not that that matters for the story), and he was there with some friends and we were all chatting about this and that as we waited for the movie to begin. Somehow we started talking about movie musicals, and that lead us to RENT the movie, and why it sucked and did horribly at the box office when the stage show is so fantastic. There are several reasons for this. The one I chose to harp on was the director. You don’t get the guy who directed Home Alone to direct RENT. You get someone like Spike Lee to direct RENT. And this guy I was talking to laughed, and then that got us onto Spike Lee, and he said Spike Lee didn’t like white people. Holly made the point that he also didn’t like ignorant black people. I made the point that most of us don’t like ignorant people, period, regardless of race. That brought us to the conversation on how to reverse ignorance and bigotry. I made the comment that I have tried with several people with out success, that some people just don’t want to open their minds. He said he didn’t believe this was true. Everyone really wants to have their minds open no matter how much they fight it initially. I thought this was really interesting. Holly and I asked him to please give us an example of this. So he started talking about today’s society being so focused on instant gratification.
WALL-E (another movie that has had a profound effect on me this summer) is a movie that demonstrates our societies demand for instant gratification. We see something, we want it, we get it. Simple as that. We have come to think that if we try something a couple of times and it doesn’t work this means it’s impossible. We have forgotten the art of wearing someone down. Of persistence. Of not giving up. (Which is bad, because you can bet the religious zealots out there have not forgotten). Of digging in, staying in the trenches, and really working for something.
This made me think. Just saying that you are in a safe environment doesn’t mean that you are. Just giving lip service to something doesn’t mean it exists. Maybe we are giving lip service to something we haven’t bothered to create. And maybe we haven’t bothered to create it because we are used to instantly getting things we want. For example, I can go on i-tunes right now, click on a button, and download the song Safety Dance instantly. Then it’s mine. I own it. I can listen to is whenever I want. But does that mean I really know how to do the safety dance? No.
These things take time. It takes time and a well thought out overview of things to create a safe environment. We have to know that everything we do, every activity, every word that comes out of our mouths is in service to this thing. Jodi came in to talk to the apprentices today and it was profound and wonderful. She talked a lot about staying centered, about knowing what you are all about and staying true to that, and making sure that everything you are doing is in service to that. It’s hard. It’s time consuming, energy consuming, brain consuming. But it’s worth it. This also ties in with Debra’s whole thing about the big picture. Sure we could do a lot of really cool things, but wouldn’t it be better if we could do a lot of really cool things in service to something? In service to something larger?
None of this is to say that something like creating a safe environment isn’t owed lip service. The power of positive thinking is a truly amazing thing, and so to just keep repeating the phrase “safe environment” is a powerful thing. Maybe if we keep encouraging it we can slowly build it anyway. A sort of “if you build it, he will come” sort of philosophy.Something else that Jodi said stuck with me. Well, a lot of things Jodi said today stuck with me, but here’s the one I’m going to harp on for the moment. There are certain things that have happened around here before we were fully ready, as an institution, for them to happen. That reminded me, strangely, of the movie Under The Tuscan Sun. A man in that movie tells the story that they built train tracks over the Swiss Alps before there was a train that could make the trip. They built it because they knew one day there would be a train that could do it. One day the train would come. So maybe we’re not ready now. But maybe we built it because we knew one day we would be. Because, maybe, in building the tracks first, we preemptively lay the foundation for what we would like to become, what we would like to happen. I mean, hey, once you found out those tracks were there, there was no choice but to build a train that could fill them.
Maybe we say we are in a safe environment to send the message that we need to create one. That it is important to create one. That it is our priority to create one. And that we’re in it for the long hall. We will stay here (or outside with our parking cones) until we get a safe environment, because we’ve built the tracks. So now we have no choice but to build the train.
~ Laura (Roux)
Monday, July 21, 2008
Things I've learned since I've been here
What I’ve Learned . . . Things that are different on my own ~
Sometimes you have to say things 4 times – as a stage manager – lessons from Cole on Scramble –
“I’m not saying 15 minutes 4 times. What I’m saying is ‘Shut up. I have something to say. And what I have to say is – we have 15 minutes.”
· I am healthier on my own
· And yet I smoke more (because I can)
· I am cleaner
· I take care of my personal stuff in a more timely manner
· Social anxiety does exist, I do have it, and instead of thinking of it as something that is curable I need to start thinking of it as something that I am going to have for the rest of my life, so it’s more of a continuing journey of the best way to deal with it, then it is “I have to fix this”
· I still can’t get to work on time. I need to work on it. I need to work on it in some other way than beating myself up because obviously it doesn’t work. Something else that doesn’t work is setting my alarm clock 3 hours early. Obviously I am not going to get up and go running and get some work done. One thing at a time. Let’s start with getting to work on time. Then let’s go to getting to work 10 minutes early. Then we can start setting the 3 hours early, running/swimming/working/cleaning/fixing lunch and dinner thing. However I still don’t know what the proper course would be. Do I just set the alarms that I have for the right time? Do I buy another alarm (or several)? How do I do this?
· I read people better than I think I do
· I have better teaching instincts than I think I do
· I really do have a lot of experience
· I really do know absolutely nothing at all
· I love my fellow interns very much
· I don’t trust as easily as I used to
· I really am almost 25. And almost 25 is a lot different than 21. It just really is.
· I still get home sick
· I sometimes, still, forget to breathe.
· I sometimes, still, forget to remember where I come from, that I have my own style, my own way of doing thing.
· The phrase “That’s the way I’ve always done it” is still a red flag, but it doesn’t mean that things that have worked in the past won’t work in the future.
· I listen to music more. It has a profound effect on me.
· I hate text messaging, but it’s my major form of communication with my boss
· I’m still just as lost about what path I’m supposed to take as I ever was. Coming here did not clarify that. If anything, it only confused me further. It has just reinforced the fact that I love teaching and I’m good at it. Great.
More to add to this list later
~ Laura J (Roux)
Sometimes you have to say things 4 times – as a stage manager – lessons from Cole on Scramble –
“I’m not saying 15 minutes 4 times. What I’m saying is ‘Shut up. I have something to say. And what I have to say is – we have 15 minutes.”
· I am healthier on my own
· And yet I smoke more (because I can)
· I am cleaner
· I take care of my personal stuff in a more timely manner
· Social anxiety does exist, I do have it, and instead of thinking of it as something that is curable I need to start thinking of it as something that I am going to have for the rest of my life, so it’s more of a continuing journey of the best way to deal with it, then it is “I have to fix this”
· I still can’t get to work on time. I need to work on it. I need to work on it in some other way than beating myself up because obviously it doesn’t work. Something else that doesn’t work is setting my alarm clock 3 hours early. Obviously I am not going to get up and go running and get some work done. One thing at a time. Let’s start with getting to work on time. Then let’s go to getting to work 10 minutes early. Then we can start setting the 3 hours early, running/swimming/working/cleaning/fixing lunch and dinner thing. However I still don’t know what the proper course would be. Do I just set the alarms that I have for the right time? Do I buy another alarm (or several)? How do I do this?
· I read people better than I think I do
· I have better teaching instincts than I think I do
· I really do have a lot of experience
· I really do know absolutely nothing at all
· I love my fellow interns very much
· I don’t trust as easily as I used to
· I really am almost 25. And almost 25 is a lot different than 21. It just really is.
· I still get home sick
· I sometimes, still, forget to breathe.
· I sometimes, still, forget to remember where I come from, that I have my own style, my own way of doing thing.
· The phrase “That’s the way I’ve always done it” is still a red flag, but it doesn’t mean that things that have worked in the past won’t work in the future.
· I listen to music more. It has a profound effect on me.
· I hate text messaging, but it’s my major form of communication with my boss
· I’m still just as lost about what path I’m supposed to take as I ever was. Coming here did not clarify that. If anything, it only confused me further. It has just reinforced the fact that I love teaching and I’m good at it. Great.
More to add to this list later
~ Laura J (Roux)
Friday, July 18, 2008
safety from the rearview
The Education Intern continues her thoughts ~
I was very blessed with the community theatre I grew up in. It was one of those magical things where all the right people came together at exactly the right time and created a place where a rag tag group of teenagers could safely explore their creative outlets. There was this group of about 15-20 of us that were at the theatre all the time, involved in everything we could get our hands on. We took classes together, we TAed (Teaching Assistant) classes together, we put on shows together, and in the end we hung out with each other. Of this group the majority of us still remain friends despite that fact that many went away to various colleges and jobs across the country (and out of the country). These are friendships that have stretched over 10 years and most of them I still consider my closest friends. I truly believe that this is a result of the type of environment we were put in together.
What you must understand is that most likely without the theatre we would not have been friends. Not just because we went to different high schools, but because if we had gone to the same high school we probably would not have associated with each other. My teachers and mentors at this theatre created an environment where none of us felt like we were in a popularity contest, we all felt like we had something valid to contribute to the group. We reveled in our differences. This was an environment where I was allowed to gape in awe at the kids who were montessori students, who were vastly more globably aware than I was and just had so much more knowledge than I did about what was going on in the world. These were the kids that held interesting discussions when they were in elementary school the day the Berlin Wall came down. I did not have to hide my zealousness to share in their knowledge. This was a place where the popular girl, the cheerleader type, could come and not be afraid to show her intelligence and not be judged because she had interests other than theatre. This was the place where the Irish catholic family came and invaded and taught us more about religion and philosophy than any class I have ever taken. This was where the gays and the lesbians came and weren’t afraid to be out. This is where the gang affiliated former striper came and was never judged. We came together and took joy and interest in our differences and reveled in the one thing that we all had in common. We all felt like outsiders. All teenagers feel like outsiders, but not here. Here we were on the inside. And the inside was a world we made together.
It was because of my teachers that we were able to feel this way. And it was because of this that I became passionate about teaching. I want to give this to other kids. I want everyone who desires it to be able to have this experience. It’s not about being famous (I discovered my passion and talent for teaching before I discovered I had chops as a performer), it’s about learning that the diversity around you is the biggest tool, the biggest key, the biggest gift you can be given. These things truly are life skills. I want to give teenagers a safe place to come, where they can – not just learn the skills needed to do theatre – be themselves. Where they can feel safe enough to be who they are; which, at that age, is probably the hardest thing they’ll ever have to do.
And I realized a while ago that this is not just important for your average teenager that feels like a freak. It’s even more important to the high risk kids. Think what theatre outreach could do if we could create this environment in the scariest schools, in the scariest neighborhoods, the neighborhoods where people are less worried about the arts surviving and more worried about their children surviving. Yes I am young and idealistic, but . . . just think about it . . . we could change the world.
Theatre should work for social change. The theatre was created at the same time and right next door to democracy. It was created to point out to everyone what it is like to walk in another person’s shoes. To the lowliest plebian to the greatest senator – if we could all just take a minute to see the choices that these people are faced with maybe we would understand more about how the world works, and would let this understanding inform our own choices. I believe that theatre, at its heart, should always be for enlightenment. I think that theatre education is an even more powerful weapon in the social change arsenal. Not just because we can create with these kids powerful theatre, but because coming together as a group in the name of the theatre can change these kids. And through them, the world.
I know, I know, idealistic dribble. But it’s what I believe. And it all has to do with the question. That question still being: How do you create a safe environment? Once again, more ideas on this later.
~ Laura (Roux)
I was very blessed with the community theatre I grew up in. It was one of those magical things where all the right people came together at exactly the right time and created a place where a rag tag group of teenagers could safely explore their creative outlets. There was this group of about 15-20 of us that were at the theatre all the time, involved in everything we could get our hands on. We took classes together, we TAed (Teaching Assistant) classes together, we put on shows together, and in the end we hung out with each other. Of this group the majority of us still remain friends despite that fact that many went away to various colleges and jobs across the country (and out of the country). These are friendships that have stretched over 10 years and most of them I still consider my closest friends. I truly believe that this is a result of the type of environment we were put in together.
What you must understand is that most likely without the theatre we would not have been friends. Not just because we went to different high schools, but because if we had gone to the same high school we probably would not have associated with each other. My teachers and mentors at this theatre created an environment where none of us felt like we were in a popularity contest, we all felt like we had something valid to contribute to the group. We reveled in our differences. This was an environment where I was allowed to gape in awe at the kids who were montessori students, who were vastly more globably aware than I was and just had so much more knowledge than I did about what was going on in the world. These were the kids that held interesting discussions when they were in elementary school the day the Berlin Wall came down. I did not have to hide my zealousness to share in their knowledge. This was a place where the popular girl, the cheerleader type, could come and not be afraid to show her intelligence and not be judged because she had interests other than theatre. This was the place where the Irish catholic family came and invaded and taught us more about religion and philosophy than any class I have ever taken. This was where the gays and the lesbians came and weren’t afraid to be out. This is where the gang affiliated former striper came and was never judged. We came together and took joy and interest in our differences and reveled in the one thing that we all had in common. We all felt like outsiders. All teenagers feel like outsiders, but not here. Here we were on the inside. And the inside was a world we made together.
It was because of my teachers that we were able to feel this way. And it was because of this that I became passionate about teaching. I want to give this to other kids. I want everyone who desires it to be able to have this experience. It’s not about being famous (I discovered my passion and talent for teaching before I discovered I had chops as a performer), it’s about learning that the diversity around you is the biggest tool, the biggest key, the biggest gift you can be given. These things truly are life skills. I want to give teenagers a safe place to come, where they can – not just learn the skills needed to do theatre – be themselves. Where they can feel safe enough to be who they are; which, at that age, is probably the hardest thing they’ll ever have to do.
And I realized a while ago that this is not just important for your average teenager that feels like a freak. It’s even more important to the high risk kids. Think what theatre outreach could do if we could create this environment in the scariest schools, in the scariest neighborhoods, the neighborhoods where people are less worried about the arts surviving and more worried about their children surviving. Yes I am young and idealistic, but . . . just think about it . . . we could change the world.
Theatre should work for social change. The theatre was created at the same time and right next door to democracy. It was created to point out to everyone what it is like to walk in another person’s shoes. To the lowliest plebian to the greatest senator – if we could all just take a minute to see the choices that these people are faced with maybe we would understand more about how the world works, and would let this understanding inform our own choices. I believe that theatre, at its heart, should always be for enlightenment. I think that theatre education is an even more powerful weapon in the social change arsenal. Not just because we can create with these kids powerful theatre, but because coming together as a group in the name of the theatre can change these kids. And through them, the world.
I know, I know, idealistic dribble. But it’s what I believe. And it all has to do with the question. That question still being: How do you create a safe environment? Once again, more ideas on this later.
~ Laura (Roux)
Ring Ring 4
Hey Bruce, just checkin' in . . . no we didn't do anything last night.
I was just wondering . . . does the theatre have caulking guns that we could borrow?
thanks, smooches, talk to you soon!
p.s. if you could avoid all calls from our landlord for a couple of days, that'd be great . . .
I was just wondering . . . does the theatre have caulking guns that we could borrow?
thanks, smooches, talk to you soon!
p.s. if you could avoid all calls from our landlord for a couple of days, that'd be great . . .
safe
A few thoughts from the education intern ~
How to create a safe environment. It's something I've been thinking about a lot lately. As an educator (of any kind) you can't do anything unless you first have a safe environment. By safe I mean both physically and mentally. If students fear for their physical safety how are they going to learn anything (check Maslov's heirarchy of needs)? So if you want to create an environment condusive to learning the first thing you have to do is make sure that the students are and feel physically safe.
Next you have to make the environment safe for them psychologically as well. Education, whether theatrical or not, is (or at least should be), about taking chances. If we don't raise our hands and take the chance that we might have the wrong answer then we won't learn anything. How can someone learn in a classroom where they are made to fear asking questions, speaking out, voicing their ideas? Just talking at someone doesn't cut it. You could lead a dictatorial type classroom in which all of the kids are perfect angels and never act out. Sure, great, but are they learning anything? How can you tell if all you do is talk at them and never let them talk?
People, in an educational setting, have to know that it is okay to fail. That we learn the most from our failures. That the bigger the chance you take the bigger the failure, and it should be better to fail fantastically than to never do anything at all.
I am speaking in pretty braod terms here. It's fairly cliche and stuff we have all heard before. But actually applying in a classroom or with a group of kids is much more difficult than it seems. I have always known that creating a safe environment was important, and by far one of the most important things to me as a teacher, but I am used to teaching at a place where said environment has already been created, supported, established, and I just have to continue that tradition in my own classroom. This is still hard, you see, but still easier than starting from scratch.
Here we have a group of teenagers, my ideal age group to work with. I think that they all feel physically safe. I don't think anyone in Westport, CT is worried about their physical safety (except when a pedestrian crossing the street). I don't think anyone in this building is worried about their physical safety, this place has been fully renovated, the roof isn't going to cave in, the stairs aren't going to collapse (all though one of the apprenti noticed that the elevator was over due for its inspection.
In our classes with these apprentices we keep telling them that they are in a safe environment, but I can't help but ask the question, are we talking about something that we have neglected to create?
Which brings me back to the question: How do you create a safe environment?
More thoughts on this topic to come.
~ Laura J
How to create a safe environment. It's something I've been thinking about a lot lately. As an educator (of any kind) you can't do anything unless you first have a safe environment. By safe I mean both physically and mentally. If students fear for their physical safety how are they going to learn anything (check Maslov's heirarchy of needs)? So if you want to create an environment condusive to learning the first thing you have to do is make sure that the students are and feel physically safe.
Next you have to make the environment safe for them psychologically as well. Education, whether theatrical or not, is (or at least should be), about taking chances. If we don't raise our hands and take the chance that we might have the wrong answer then we won't learn anything. How can someone learn in a classroom where they are made to fear asking questions, speaking out, voicing their ideas? Just talking at someone doesn't cut it. You could lead a dictatorial type classroom in which all of the kids are perfect angels and never act out. Sure, great, but are they learning anything? How can you tell if all you do is talk at them and never let them talk?
People, in an educational setting, have to know that it is okay to fail. That we learn the most from our failures. That the bigger the chance you take the bigger the failure, and it should be better to fail fantastically than to never do anything at all.
I am speaking in pretty braod terms here. It's fairly cliche and stuff we have all heard before. But actually applying in a classroom or with a group of kids is much more difficult than it seems. I have always known that creating a safe environment was important, and by far one of the most important things to me as a teacher, but I am used to teaching at a place where said environment has already been created, supported, established, and I just have to continue that tradition in my own classroom. This is still hard, you see, but still easier than starting from scratch.
Here we have a group of teenagers, my ideal age group to work with. I think that they all feel physically safe. I don't think anyone in Westport, CT is worried about their physical safety (except when a pedestrian crossing the street). I don't think anyone in this building is worried about their physical safety, this place has been fully renovated, the roof isn't going to cave in, the stairs aren't going to collapse (all though one of the apprenti noticed that the elevator was over due for its inspection.
In our classes with these apprentices we keep telling them that they are in a safe environment, but I can't help but ask the question, are we talking about something that we have neglected to create?
Which brings me back to the question: How do you create a safe environment?
More thoughts on this topic to come.
~ Laura J
Wednesday, July 16, 2008
Theatre and Religion
I know these sound like sort of...conflicting topics, but I was thinking about something today and suddenly got philosophical (this is what happens when I get a real break between shows). I've been reading up on a couple of things about theatre management, and how a lot of the way regional theatres (like ours) function is based on a sort of tradition; it's just how it's been done for years, and that's good enough. I find this point fascinating, and even more fascinating is the commitment and struggle by some to make theatre relevant and accessible. I know Holly's posted about this, too, but it's curious to me that this is a similar issue that I've had with religion for years.
There are stigmas, accessibility and relevance issues associated with both, and I'm behind fixing both. I don't want to step on toes, I'm just telling it the way I see it having grown up in the church. I love my church, for example, I think my Pastor is one of the most brilliant, insightful men I've ever encountered, and just like with other occupations, there are those who were obviously called into this position and those who, well, should probably take a crack at something else. (It's like theatre in that, too: if you can see yourself doing anything else, you should probably do that). But there are things about the church that bother me, and this gets back to the accessibility thing.
In theatre the problem, I believe, is the idea that plays are high-brow entertainment, or campy; the idea people have in their heads of the average theatre-goer is, essentially, an elitist, and the same seems to go for the church, except rather than being a social elitist, it's a spiritual elitist, someone we don't feel we can measure up to, a Duddly Do-Right we can't relate to because we can't see their motives.
So, back to the crux of the matter: What I've seen in both worlds are those wonderful people who say "I don't care if this is how we've ALWAYS done things, I want to know how we SHOULD do things." These are the innovators, the people who set out to create a public forum, rather than a club, where everyone is invited, welcome, really welcome. Theatre and religion are both seen as archaic, vintage at best, but mostly irrelevant. The theatre kids and the youth group kids are always their own cliques in school, just like the jocks and the cool kids, but somehow FILM, with the exception of the film festival crowd (which is, ironically similar to the theatre crowd, but that's another discussion entirely) is as universal as music: there are genres just like theatre (and, heh heh, religion) but everyone can ask "what's your favorite movie?" without thinking about it, and engage in passionate discussion. When was the last time you asked a new acquaintance "what's your favorite play?" outside of the theatre lobby?
I feel like some of this comes from the way productions differ between Film and Theatre. In film, you don't do the same movie twice unless you're re-making it. In theatre, however, we are constantly reviving old shows. The production is nearly always different, and in many cases, still relevant no matter how many times it is done. Example: All My Sons. The show is specific in its time period and topics, but still rings with universal truths about honesty, loyalty, family, etc, despite being written over 5 decades ago! I don't know if it's just me, though, but it seems like the only new plays I ever hear about on Broadway are musicals like Wicked and Avenue Q. With regard to Wicked, I find it interesting to see a play based off of a book (by the way I can't stand listening to that show anymore...) when I've heard the advice from film professors and producers which says that it's easier to write a novel and have it made into a movie than to write an original screenplay which gets made. But I digress... the question I really want to ask is: is playwriting really dead? And I guess I can answer that question because I do know an amazing playwright from my school who wrote an awesome show which was produced on our mainstage and sold out nightly. So that gives me hope...
Back to my goal, and a goal I know I am not alone in, is to help make theatre, this wonderful world I've stepped into, more accessible to the average person. Financially I don't know how I can help, but I feel like the medium is one which is so unique, so immediate, so...real that it has the potential to touch everyone. Most people agree that going to see a musical artist live is an experience 10x more exhilarating than listening to/watching a recording. The same goes for a live stage performance. The experience is enveloping, 3-dimensional (move aside, IMAX, hi-def still can't touch live) exciting, organic, interactive....*phew*.
I think I just de-railed. I had more to write, mostly about being a control-freak, but honestly, I congratulate you if you made it this far. I'll save the control freak rant for another post, it's probably redundant for everyone reading this anyway...
There are stigmas, accessibility and relevance issues associated with both, and I'm behind fixing both. I don't want to step on toes, I'm just telling it the way I see it having grown up in the church. I love my church, for example, I think my Pastor is one of the most brilliant, insightful men I've ever encountered, and just like with other occupations, there are those who were obviously called into this position and those who, well, should probably take a crack at something else. (It's like theatre in that, too: if you can see yourself doing anything else, you should probably do that). But there are things about the church that bother me, and this gets back to the accessibility thing.
In theatre the problem, I believe, is the idea that plays are high-brow entertainment, or campy; the idea people have in their heads of the average theatre-goer is, essentially, an elitist, and the same seems to go for the church, except rather than being a social elitist, it's a spiritual elitist, someone we don't feel we can measure up to, a Duddly Do-Right we can't relate to because we can't see their motives.
So, back to the crux of the matter: What I've seen in both worlds are those wonderful people who say "I don't care if this is how we've ALWAYS done things, I want to know how we SHOULD do things." These are the innovators, the people who set out to create a public forum, rather than a club, where everyone is invited, welcome, really welcome. Theatre and religion are both seen as archaic, vintage at best, but mostly irrelevant. The theatre kids and the youth group kids are always their own cliques in school, just like the jocks and the cool kids, but somehow FILM, with the exception of the film festival crowd (which is, ironically similar to the theatre crowd, but that's another discussion entirely) is as universal as music: there are genres just like theatre (and, heh heh, religion) but everyone can ask "what's your favorite movie?" without thinking about it, and engage in passionate discussion. When was the last time you asked a new acquaintance "what's your favorite play?" outside of the theatre lobby?
I feel like some of this comes from the way productions differ between Film and Theatre. In film, you don't do the same movie twice unless you're re-making it. In theatre, however, we are constantly reviving old shows. The production is nearly always different, and in many cases, still relevant no matter how many times it is done. Example: All My Sons. The show is specific in its time period and topics, but still rings with universal truths about honesty, loyalty, family, etc, despite being written over 5 decades ago! I don't know if it's just me, though, but it seems like the only new plays I ever hear about on Broadway are musicals like Wicked and Avenue Q. With regard to Wicked, I find it interesting to see a play based off of a book (by the way I can't stand listening to that show anymore...) when I've heard the advice from film professors and producers which says that it's easier to write a novel and have it made into a movie than to write an original screenplay which gets made. But I digress... the question I really want to ask is: is playwriting really dead? And I guess I can answer that question because I do know an amazing playwright from my school who wrote an awesome show which was produced on our mainstage and sold out nightly. So that gives me hope...
Back to my goal, and a goal I know I am not alone in, is to help make theatre, this wonderful world I've stepped into, more accessible to the average person. Financially I don't know how I can help, but I feel like the medium is one which is so unique, so immediate, so...real that it has the potential to touch everyone. Most people agree that going to see a musical artist live is an experience 10x more exhilarating than listening to/watching a recording. The same goes for a live stage performance. The experience is enveloping, 3-dimensional (move aside, IMAX, hi-def still can't touch live) exciting, organic, interactive....*phew*.
I think I just de-railed. I had more to write, mostly about being a control-freak, but honestly, I congratulate you if you made it this far. I'll save the control freak rant for another post, it's probably redundant for everyone reading this anyway...
Hold your own Know your own name And go your own way And everything will be fine
If I were to sum up my scenic painting internship in one word it would be: lonely.
I am not trying to be depressing or anything but honestly, I spend more time alone than with others. I have found this to be a blessing and a curse since I do work better alone but I thrive off of energy that other people bring to me.
Recently, I was faced with a huge challenge when the one person I do see was off contract from the playhouse for two weeks. My overnight calls were not as enjoyable without my supervisor, Liza. I had to really push myself to get everything done before I freaked out from being all alone in a theater late at night.
It is a good thing I love making art.
Yesterday, I was fortunate enough to have the day off. I decided to use this time wisely and drive to Hartford, CT to wait in line for 8 hours for tickets to a Jason Mraz concert. I did not embark on this journey alone. Helen, Properties Intern, came along for the ride but stayed only a few hours since she had to go back to work. So there I was, in downtown Hartford outside of the Webster surrounded by strangers. I was, as per usual, all alone.
The concert was amazing and completely worth the long lonely wait. I was less than 10 feet away from Jason Mraz and could not stop smiling while he strummed on his guitar and sang for his hour long set.
I am looking forward to this evening in which Liza and I will continue to work on the set for Tryst. We have not been able to make much progress so far since the carpenters are still building...frustrating but at least I will not be working all alone.
Until next time...
-Kim-
I am not trying to be depressing or anything but honestly, I spend more time alone than with others. I have found this to be a blessing and a curse since I do work better alone but I thrive off of energy that other people bring to me.
Recently, I was faced with a huge challenge when the one person I do see was off contract from the playhouse for two weeks. My overnight calls were not as enjoyable without my supervisor, Liza. I had to really push myself to get everything done before I freaked out from being all alone in a theater late at night.
It is a good thing I love making art.
Yesterday, I was fortunate enough to have the day off. I decided to use this time wisely and drive to Hartford, CT to wait in line for 8 hours for tickets to a Jason Mraz concert. I did not embark on this journey alone. Helen, Properties Intern, came along for the ride but stayed only a few hours since she had to go back to work. So there I was, in downtown Hartford outside of the Webster surrounded by strangers. I was, as per usual, all alone.
The concert was amazing and completely worth the long lonely wait. I was less than 10 feet away from Jason Mraz and could not stop smiling while he strummed on his guitar and sang for his hour long set.
I am looking forward to this evening in which Liza and I will continue to work on the set for Tryst. We have not been able to make much progress so far since the carpenters are still building...frustrating but at least I will not be working all alone.
Until next time...
-Kim-
Tuesday, July 15, 2008
Showcase
So the interns met with Debra today about the Intern Showcase. The long and the short of it is that we can do just about anything we want, within reason and a $500 budget. We elected Financial (Holly) and Production (myself) reps to kind of keep track of everything so we're not all pestering Ammie (our awesome Assistant Production Manager) about things all the time. We also decided to start ourselves off by compiling our individual goals into a list. Everyone's e-mailing me by tomorrow morning with their goals. I'm excited to see them! It should be interesting to see what we come up with.
In other news, my experience with Arsenic and Old Lace yesterday: The thing that made my day was showing Annie the wash we'd created, adjusting it for her in less than 5 minutes, and then hearing this: "Well that was easy!" Really, there's nothing better to hear from the Artistic Director than that.
Second kind of awesome moment was scampering through the light-lock to the lobby and almost mowing down Christopher Walken on his way into the theatre. That was kind of surreal, like "holy crap I almost knocked over a flippin' celebrity!" That would be my experience, of course: not an eloquent handshake and how-dya-do, but a klutzy, breathless passing. Oh well, such is my life.
Back to what I do,
Ashley
In other news, my experience with Arsenic and Old Lace yesterday: The thing that made my day was showing Annie the wash we'd created, adjusting it for her in less than 5 minutes, and then hearing this: "Well that was easy!" Really, there's nothing better to hear from the Artistic Director than that.
Second kind of awesome moment was scampering through the light-lock to the lobby and almost mowing down Christopher Walken on his way into the theatre. That was kind of surreal, like "holy crap I almost knocked over a flippin' celebrity!" That would be my experience, of course: not an eloquent handshake and how-dya-do, but a klutzy, breathless passing. Oh well, such is my life.
Back to what I do,
Ashley
Arsenic!
Last night I went with my family to see the wonderful reading of Arsenic and Old Lace. This play is particularly dear to me because I did it in high school, so I already knew all of the comedic moments.... at least I thought so. This reading was the perfect example of a great script and great artists coming together and creating a masterpiece of theater. Even though there was no set, light changes, sound effects, and blocking the actors kept the audiences eyes and ears directly on them. And it is also so refreshing to see actors HAVING FUN! I know how easy it is to get caught up in the "drama" of theater... trust me.
Recently, I have been in some kind of funk. Losing my faith in the public and their interest in theater. Last night renewed my sense of security in the general public. THEY DO WANT TO SEE THEATER! Granted.... Christopher Walken has to be in the play...... but that's OK! People laughed, they were entertained, and they even made friends! Three or four different people around me were laughing and chatting with perfect strangers and even getting each others numbers too!
So... more about the evening! First off, I want to say.... Noble Shropshire is a genius! I want him to father my children! (OK not really...) When he and Chris Walken entered, his presence and simple facial expressions blew me away. Anne and Joanne looked like they've been Martha and Abby for years. (I mean that in the best way possible. I don't think they've been killing old men for years.....) Their friendship and love for this play carried the reading! I Just want to say kudos all around to this amazing reading! If only you could put it on as a full production with the same cast!
Holly
RING RING 3
Hey Bruce! Just checkin' in... Why are all of the other interns confused by the crazy Connecitcut drivers? Oh! And do you know where I could get a a giant foam middle finger? Thanks! Hey this guy totally cut me off! Talk to you soon!
Recently, I have been in some kind of funk. Losing my faith in the public and their interest in theater. Last night renewed my sense of security in the general public. THEY DO WANT TO SEE THEATER! Granted.... Christopher Walken has to be in the play...... but that's OK! People laughed, they were entertained, and they even made friends! Three or four different people around me were laughing and chatting with perfect strangers and even getting each others numbers too!
So... more about the evening! First off, I want to say.... Noble Shropshire is a genius! I want him to father my children! (OK not really...) When he and Chris Walken entered, his presence and simple facial expressions blew me away. Anne and Joanne looked like they've been Martha and Abby for years. (I mean that in the best way possible. I don't think they've been killing old men for years.....) Their friendship and love for this play carried the reading! I Just want to say kudos all around to this amazing reading! If only you could put it on as a full production with the same cast!
Holly
RING RING 3
Hey Bruce! Just checkin' in... Why are all of the other interns confused by the crazy Connecitcut drivers? Oh! And do you know where I could get a a giant foam middle finger? Thanks! Hey this guy totally cut me off! Talk to you soon!
Monday, July 14, 2008
Ring, Ring II.
Hey Bruce! Just checkin’ in…Do you know off the top of your head many Mounties it takes to disassemble a hot air balloon? P.S. Is there any chance you have our passports on file? Thanks! Eh? Talk to you soon.
Let's rap....
After last weeks meeting/forum with Annie and Jodi a certain question has been running through my mind…
Why don’t more young people come to the theater?
It’s hard for me to answer that question because for the past ten years of my life I’ve looked forward to seeing a good play or musical. I go to school where drama students can see regional theater productions for free. And we take advantage of that! The only time I ever encounter non-dramas seeing plays are when they are required or some sort of extra credit. Which leads me to ask… “Is Theater that boring?”
Do we need to have the set blow up in order to get people to see a play? People will shell out $10-$12 on movies with no substantial plot line or thought-provoking message as long as there’s nudity or fire. Maybe it could be the fact that theater is so expensive now. Some tickets cost over $135. However, it’s a trial to get people to see a high school production that is the same cost as a movie!
Now how do we change this? I am not entirely sure. I think the biggest problem is that the arts have been cut from many schools in the United States, so the exposure to the arts (especially theater) that would normally rope kids’ interest is no longer present. Should we make it more accessible to them outside of school? How do we do that? I don’t know yet.
Holly
Why don’t more young people come to the theater?
It’s hard for me to answer that question because for the past ten years of my life I’ve looked forward to seeing a good play or musical. I go to school where drama students can see regional theater productions for free. And we take advantage of that! The only time I ever encounter non-dramas seeing plays are when they are required or some sort of extra credit. Which leads me to ask… “Is Theater that boring?”
Do we need to have the set blow up in order to get people to see a play? People will shell out $10-$12 on movies with no substantial plot line or thought-provoking message as long as there’s nudity or fire. Maybe it could be the fact that theater is so expensive now. Some tickets cost over $135. However, it’s a trial to get people to see a high school production that is the same cost as a movie!
Now how do we change this? I am not entirely sure. I think the biggest problem is that the arts have been cut from many schools in the United States, so the exposure to the arts (especially theater) that would normally rope kids’ interest is no longer present. Should we make it more accessible to them outside of school? How do we do that? I don’t know yet.
Holly
Sunday, July 13, 2008
Iron Mannequins
I just came back from watching Iron Man, and it sparked some thoughts about why I tell stories -- my place as an artist and accountability for the message I’m portraying.
Although I’ll admit that certain parts of Iron Man can only be referred to as awesome, I spent the much of the movie incredibly offended by the portrayal of Muslims and Middle-Easterners. A chunk of the movie takes place in Afghanistan, and the Afghan people are portrayed either as terrorists running shouting with turbans on their head and guns in their hands, as the heaven-sent sidekick who dies too quickly to be given three-dimensional qualities, or as goat farmers.
What the screenwriters did was incredibly smart…they were given the charge to create a world exactly like our own except with the premise that this Iron Man superhero exists. By using Afghan terrorists as the villain and Afghan civilians as the innocent bystanders, the screenwriters created recognizable stereotypes that tug immensely at our heartstrings. These symbols are incredibly powerful tools which make for thrilling drama.
However, if I’m a thirteen-year-old boy, chances are I’ve seen Iron Man and haven’t seen something like Babel, yet alone have any understanding that all Middle-Eastern (or Muslim for that matter) countries cannot be clumped into the same lump. Do we fly every thirteen-year-old boy over to Dubai and say look: Middle-Easterners run the gamut (just as Americans do) and also have sophisticated first-world cities and three-dimensional cultures/people?
Yes, this film is a product of our time, just as it was pointed out to me that Indiana Jones did the same thing with villainous Germans, but it doesn’t cease to make my heart pound a little faster as I’m watching the desert-scenes in Iron Man.
Art with a message. There’ve been several discussions among the interns about this very topic -- the catalyst seeming to be Jodi and Annie’s master class about season selection which touched on this very issue.
Art and entertainment are a huge part of my world. A huge part of the modern world. And evidenced by the fact I have been spurred to write these thoughts down, I am hypersensitive to the incredible power stories have.
In my life, I have chosen to be a storyteller. I am just beginning to understand that the ability to tell a powerful story is very different than the ability to tell a truthful story. Perhaps I’m still too young to have the cynic-bug buzzing in my ear, but I still believe that every artist has been charged to expose a little truth in this world. “Art is a lie that makes us realize the truth.” Pablo Picasso.
In her recent opening night speech for Scramble!, Annie (with a wink) quoted the old Hollywood adage: “If you want to send a message, call Western Union.” However, I think Scramble! does more than meets the eye when it comes to truth-telling. Bringing a group of people together to laugh at the absurdity of office politics and the irrationality of what we get worked up over on a daily basis…that’s absolutely a story worth telling. And you know what?...it’s fun. And when I (god forbid) have a thirteen-year-old son, I’ll certainly plop him down in a seat for a show that tells the truth with a spoonful of sugar.
There is a place for many disparate kinds of entertainment – truth wrapped in both colorful tissue paper and chain-link. But a blockbuster hit (that will be translated into every language this world has to offer) portraying something so blatantly and destructively one-sided, THAT I find simply…untrue.
What to do about it? I guess I'll keep telling stories. If you can't beat 'em, flood the system...
Amy.
Although I’ll admit that certain parts of Iron Man can only be referred to as awesome, I spent the much of the movie incredibly offended by the portrayal of Muslims and Middle-Easterners. A chunk of the movie takes place in Afghanistan, and the Afghan people are portrayed either as terrorists running shouting with turbans on their head and guns in their hands, as the heaven-sent sidekick who dies too quickly to be given three-dimensional qualities, or as goat farmers.
What the screenwriters did was incredibly smart…they were given the charge to create a world exactly like our own except with the premise that this Iron Man superhero exists. By using Afghan terrorists as the villain and Afghan civilians as the innocent bystanders, the screenwriters created recognizable stereotypes that tug immensely at our heartstrings. These symbols are incredibly powerful tools which make for thrilling drama.
However, if I’m a thirteen-year-old boy, chances are I’ve seen Iron Man and haven’t seen something like Babel, yet alone have any understanding that all Middle-Eastern (or Muslim for that matter) countries cannot be clumped into the same lump. Do we fly every thirteen-year-old boy over to Dubai and say look: Middle-Easterners run the gamut (just as Americans do) and also have sophisticated first-world cities and three-dimensional cultures/people?
Yes, this film is a product of our time, just as it was pointed out to me that Indiana Jones did the same thing with villainous Germans, but it doesn’t cease to make my heart pound a little faster as I’m watching the desert-scenes in Iron Man.
Art with a message. There’ve been several discussions among the interns about this very topic -- the catalyst seeming to be Jodi and Annie’s master class about season selection which touched on this very issue.
Art and entertainment are a huge part of my world. A huge part of the modern world. And evidenced by the fact I have been spurred to write these thoughts down, I am hypersensitive to the incredible power stories have.
In my life, I have chosen to be a storyteller. I am just beginning to understand that the ability to tell a powerful story is very different than the ability to tell a truthful story. Perhaps I’m still too young to have the cynic-bug buzzing in my ear, but I still believe that every artist has been charged to expose a little truth in this world. “Art is a lie that makes us realize the truth.” Pablo Picasso.
In her recent opening night speech for Scramble!, Annie (with a wink) quoted the old Hollywood adage: “If you want to send a message, call Western Union.” However, I think Scramble! does more than meets the eye when it comes to truth-telling. Bringing a group of people together to laugh at the absurdity of office politics and the irrationality of what we get worked up over on a daily basis…that’s absolutely a story worth telling. And you know what?...it’s fun. And when I (god forbid) have a thirteen-year-old son, I’ll certainly plop him down in a seat for a show that tells the truth with a spoonful of sugar.
There is a place for many disparate kinds of entertainment – truth wrapped in both colorful tissue paper and chain-link. But a blockbuster hit (that will be translated into every language this world has to offer) portraying something so blatantly and destructively one-sided, THAT I find simply…untrue.
What to do about it? I guess I'll keep telling stories. If you can't beat 'em, flood the system...
Amy.
A Strange Day for the Education Intern
There are those days in all of our lives when we get to experience feeling infinite, immortal even. And it is usually on those very same days when we also experience feeling incredibly helpless, mortal, small.
Any time you go to a new place and experience new things and people you're bound to go through a lot of ups and downs. Let me re-phrase that. One of the things I try to do in all of my classes is encourage everyone to speak for themselves (i.e. I feel, I think, I experienced this, I noticed that). So, I've noticed that when I go to a new place where I experience new things and new people I tend to go through a lot of ups and downs. Today was one of those days where I experienced both sides of the spectrum. It has left me feeling a little . . . lost, but amused.
Last night was opening and at the after party I had a lot of interesting converstations with people about theatre for social change and diversity in this state and in this country. That combined with some conversations I had with my superiors in the education department at the opening party left my head spinning. I went home and chewed on some ideas, and woke up convinced that I needed to make my voice heard on some subjects. So I went to work, spoke up on some ideas I had, and what do you know? I was heard. Isn't that amazing?
I taught my second clown class today. While there were some technical diffficulties (the ipod speaker I bought just before I came here is broken) and while the class had less people in attendance than I would normally like, I got to (finally) really delve into some concepts that I think are important. I was able to really start showing the apprentices what it is that I love so much about clown, and by association theatre. And it was amazing! It was fantastic! I learned so much about myself as a teacher and about them as people. And best of all? They had fun. They loved it! It was one of those moments that makes you feel like you're flying. It was one of those moments that makes you feel like you have touched the immortal.
Afterwards we did concessions and we listened to the symposium speakers, and that was great. Lots of new information, lots of ideas, lots more problems that I feel it is up to people like me to fix. And of course I have no idea how. But on a day like today, you just feel like maybe it's possible. Maybe it is possible for my generation to fix what's wrong with the whole system of marriage. Maybe it's possible for my generation to fix equality in the work place. Maybe my generation can fix family values in society. Maybe I can be a part of that. Maybe theatre is, or can be, or will be a key element in fixing those problems.
So I leave the theatre feeling high as a kite and yet that the weight of the world is on my shoulders, but optimistic none the less, and what happens? I have a flat tire. Great. I have to wait for the AAA guy to come and put my spare on because I don't have a tire iron. So that happens, I'm driving back my gimpy car to Fairfield, and I decide that this crappy situation means that I am intitled to some Arby's. So I pull into the Arby's, I place the order, I get to the window, the guy gives me my drink, I give him my money and I drive away. It's not until I've gone about 2 more miles that I realize I have driven off without my food. Now I don't know how many people are aware of this, but as interns at the Westport Country Playhouse we don't get paid very much. I am no longer in college, I am almost 25, I am no longer supported by my parents, so I can't call mom and ask for money when I need a new tire. So I was already calculating if I had enough money to buy a new tire, when I realize that I have just wasted 6 of my hard earned dollars on food that I drove off without.
You know what I did next?
I laughed.
I laughed all the way back to my house, all the way up the stairs, and laughed while telling the girls up stairs my tale of stupidity. So I thought, what the heck, lets continue the splurge.
I ordered chinese while we watched the second season of Weeds on DVD, then we went to the $4 movie theatre and saw Iron Man (my second time). Just an all around good night of hanging out with some people who I am really enjoying getting to know.
We were walking out of the movie theatre when my body decided it wanted to bring me back to earth yet again. I have what we would call a trick leg. My left ankle is fused at 90 degrees, and while normally this doesn't effect me (other than the fact that I can't wear high heels) sometimes it likes to remind me that I am not super woman. So tonight as this group of us are walking back to the house, I have to do what I never do, what I loathe to do, call attention to the fact that I am not perfect. "Hey guys, I'm having a problem, can we walk a little slower?" I opperate under a strict policy that I do not use my ankle as an excuse under any circumstances. I don't like to show pain, just like I rarely ever cry in front of people. So tonight I had to show weakness. Tonight I had to show mortality.
I don't understand why it should bother me so much when it is the human in us that brings us together. It is our mortality that makes us all the same. It is how we connect. It is how we endear ourselves to each other. I love the humanity I find in the people around me. Why would I ever hold myself to a different standard?
All this to say, that at the end of the night, I've hit another high. I've just realized that tomorrow I will be spending several hours in the same room with Joanne Woodward and Christopher Walken. The apprentices are going to be watching the rehearsal for Arsenic and Old Lace tomorrow and I get to be with them. Tomorrow, once again, this glorious opportunity that we call an internship is going to allow me to do something amazing. Tomorrow, for a short time, I get to brush against immortalty. So for tonight, I am going to close my eyes and breathe deeply. Maybe in my dreams the answers to all the heavier questions of today will be answered, but for right now I'm just going to breathe.
~ Laura (Roux)
Any time you go to a new place and experience new things and people you're bound to go through a lot of ups and downs. Let me re-phrase that. One of the things I try to do in all of my classes is encourage everyone to speak for themselves (i.e. I feel, I think, I experienced this, I noticed that). So, I've noticed that when I go to a new place where I experience new things and new people I tend to go through a lot of ups and downs. Today was one of those days where I experienced both sides of the spectrum. It has left me feeling a little . . . lost, but amused.
Last night was opening and at the after party I had a lot of interesting converstations with people about theatre for social change and diversity in this state and in this country. That combined with some conversations I had with my superiors in the education department at the opening party left my head spinning. I went home and chewed on some ideas, and woke up convinced that I needed to make my voice heard on some subjects. So I went to work, spoke up on some ideas I had, and what do you know? I was heard. Isn't that amazing?
I taught my second clown class today. While there were some technical diffficulties (the ipod speaker I bought just before I came here is broken) and while the class had less people in attendance than I would normally like, I got to (finally) really delve into some concepts that I think are important. I was able to really start showing the apprentices what it is that I love so much about clown, and by association theatre. And it was amazing! It was fantastic! I learned so much about myself as a teacher and about them as people. And best of all? They had fun. They loved it! It was one of those moments that makes you feel like you're flying. It was one of those moments that makes you feel like you have touched the immortal.
Afterwards we did concessions and we listened to the symposium speakers, and that was great. Lots of new information, lots of ideas, lots more problems that I feel it is up to people like me to fix. And of course I have no idea how. But on a day like today, you just feel like maybe it's possible. Maybe it is possible for my generation to fix what's wrong with the whole system of marriage. Maybe it's possible for my generation to fix equality in the work place. Maybe my generation can fix family values in society. Maybe I can be a part of that. Maybe theatre is, or can be, or will be a key element in fixing those problems.
So I leave the theatre feeling high as a kite and yet that the weight of the world is on my shoulders, but optimistic none the less, and what happens? I have a flat tire. Great. I have to wait for the AAA guy to come and put my spare on because I don't have a tire iron. So that happens, I'm driving back my gimpy car to Fairfield, and I decide that this crappy situation means that I am intitled to some Arby's. So I pull into the Arby's, I place the order, I get to the window, the guy gives me my drink, I give him my money and I drive away. It's not until I've gone about 2 more miles that I realize I have driven off without my food. Now I don't know how many people are aware of this, but as interns at the Westport Country Playhouse we don't get paid very much. I am no longer in college, I am almost 25, I am no longer supported by my parents, so I can't call mom and ask for money when I need a new tire. So I was already calculating if I had enough money to buy a new tire, when I realize that I have just wasted 6 of my hard earned dollars on food that I drove off without.
You know what I did next?
I laughed.
I laughed all the way back to my house, all the way up the stairs, and laughed while telling the girls up stairs my tale of stupidity. So I thought, what the heck, lets continue the splurge.
I ordered chinese while we watched the second season of Weeds on DVD, then we went to the $4 movie theatre and saw Iron Man (my second time). Just an all around good night of hanging out with some people who I am really enjoying getting to know.
We were walking out of the movie theatre when my body decided it wanted to bring me back to earth yet again. I have what we would call a trick leg. My left ankle is fused at 90 degrees, and while normally this doesn't effect me (other than the fact that I can't wear high heels) sometimes it likes to remind me that I am not super woman. So tonight as this group of us are walking back to the house, I have to do what I never do, what I loathe to do, call attention to the fact that I am not perfect. "Hey guys, I'm having a problem, can we walk a little slower?" I opperate under a strict policy that I do not use my ankle as an excuse under any circumstances. I don't like to show pain, just like I rarely ever cry in front of people. So tonight I had to show weakness. Tonight I had to show mortality.
I don't understand why it should bother me so much when it is the human in us that brings us together. It is our mortality that makes us all the same. It is how we connect. It is how we endear ourselves to each other. I love the humanity I find in the people around me. Why would I ever hold myself to a different standard?
All this to say, that at the end of the night, I've hit another high. I've just realized that tomorrow I will be spending several hours in the same room with Joanne Woodward and Christopher Walken. The apprentices are going to be watching the rehearsal for Arsenic and Old Lace tomorrow and I get to be with them. Tomorrow, once again, this glorious opportunity that we call an internship is going to allow me to do something amazing. Tomorrow, for a short time, I get to brush against immortalty. So for tonight, I am going to close my eyes and breathe deeply. Maybe in my dreams the answers to all the heavier questions of today will be answered, but for right now I'm just going to breathe.
~ Laura (Roux)
Electrics
So when they told me we were making an intern blog, I was skeptical. I'm Ashley, the lighting/electrics intern, and, as I've been told by a couple of the other interns, I'm a little rough around the edges. I'm kind of rude, not very tactful (my version of tact is simply not talking) but I figured I'd give it a shot and just remember to proof-read my entries every time, heh heh.
On to what I do: I pretty much shadow Jim, our House Electrician. Between shows we work 8-hour days taking one show down and putting the other show in the air; hanging lights, cabling, patching, cuing. Then we move into tech and do 16-hour days making sure the whole thing isn't going to burst into flame. That whole changover/tech process is done in the space of a 7-day work week. During the shows I run the board (I make sure the rig is working and then go to the booth and press GO for 2 hours.) It's a pretty decent gig, and I meet some interesting people, including New York designers and the local IATSE guys (not all guys; I've seen a couple girls!). I play with electricity and heights, and when I tell my mother about my day-to-day tasks, all she can say is "you're giving me gray hairs!"
Last night we opened SCRAMBLE! and it was pretty boss. Decent crowd, excellent after-party (we got to be outside this time; for Hot 'n' Cole it was raining so we were stuck in the lobby). The after-after-party at the Babe Bungalow (our affectionate name for the Beach House) ended with four of us girls zonked out on the couches upstairs in front of the TV with my Scrubs DVD still scrolling through Play All mode, still in our party dresses! Now on to the chill part of my job: the show calls. Speaking of which, I gotta go to one right now!
Edit later on: Matinees, as I'm sure everyone who's worked in theatre knows, are SO bizarre! The crowds are so different from the night crowds, and they tend to laugh at stuff I'd never even think was funny. Closing night is the same way, and when there is a matinee on closing day, you don't know WHAT's gonna happen! For those of you who are theatre-goers, this is me sharing the following secret: theatre is unique in that it's an interactive experience; you don't realize it from the house, but the audience has a lot to do with the energy on-stage. We analyze you just as much as you analyze the show! Wacky, I know, but that's also one of my favorite things about theatre, is that the audience isn't totally passive, they're part of what makes the show unique every night (and why companies run Preview shows (-; )
On to what I do: I pretty much shadow Jim, our House Electrician. Between shows we work 8-hour days taking one show down and putting the other show in the air; hanging lights, cabling, patching, cuing. Then we move into tech and do 16-hour days making sure the whole thing isn't going to burst into flame. That whole changover/tech process is done in the space of a 7-day work week. During the shows I run the board (I make sure the rig is working and then go to the booth and press GO for 2 hours.) It's a pretty decent gig, and I meet some interesting people, including New York designers and the local IATSE guys (not all guys; I've seen a couple girls!). I play with electricity and heights, and when I tell my mother about my day-to-day tasks, all she can say is "you're giving me gray hairs!"
Last night we opened SCRAMBLE! and it was pretty boss. Decent crowd, excellent after-party (we got to be outside this time; for Hot 'n' Cole it was raining so we were stuck in the lobby). The after-after-party at the Babe Bungalow (our affectionate name for the Beach House) ended with four of us girls zonked out on the couches upstairs in front of the TV with my Scrubs DVD still scrolling through Play All mode, still in our party dresses! Now on to the chill part of my job: the show calls. Speaking of which, I gotta go to one right now!
Edit later on: Matinees, as I'm sure everyone who's worked in theatre knows, are SO bizarre! The crowds are so different from the night crowds, and they tend to laugh at stuff I'd never even think was funny. Closing night is the same way, and when there is a matinee on closing day, you don't know WHAT's gonna happen! For those of you who are theatre-goers, this is me sharing the following secret: theatre is unique in that it's an interactive experience; you don't realize it from the house, but the audience has a lot to do with the energy on-stage. We analyze you just as much as you analyze the show! Wacky, I know, but that's also one of my favorite things about theatre, is that the audience isn't totally passive, they're part of what makes the show unique every night (and why companies run Preview shows (-; )
Friday, July 11, 2008
"Hey Bruce, Just Checkin' In..." EXPLAINED!
It all started when interns Christine Lucas and Amy Claussen needed to leave a voicemail for Bruce that went much like this:
“Hey, Bruce. Just checkin’ in…
Is it normal for the Norwalk bridge to be stuck in the up position?
P.S. is there any way a van could drive onto the train tracks?
Thanks! You rock. Talk to you soon!”
Yes…early on in our summer, the interns learned that when things go wrong at the Playhouse, who ya gonna call? Bruce Miller! (imagine the Ghostbusters theme)
It didn’t take long before a trend started…and WHAHLAH! Brucemail was born. Brucemail is much like a voicemail, except your call actually gets returned and requests get done efficiently (and with a Steaz). Better yet, if you don’t have a reason to actually call Bruce (or can’t get to your handy cellular because of badger infestation), brucemail can be uttered (or blogged) at any time at any moment. Don't worry...we all know the big man upstairs (in the production office) will hear.
But before you start brucemailling all over the place, you must take heed of the rules (VERY IMPORTANT! This is theater; it’s gotta have some structure…unless you’re in Germany in the thirties.)
RULES:
1) A brucemail must begin with “Hey, Bruce. Just checkin’ in.”
2) Somewhere in the brucemail, the brucemailler must ask for some kind of advice. For example: “Are ants in Connecticut supposed to have wings?”
3) Also in a brucemail, there must be a request for something from the Papa himself. For example: “Do you have the number for crane rental?”
4) All calls must be polite and end with a friendly goodbye as follows: “Thanks! (insert farewell of your choice here) Talk to you soon!
Here is an example of a perfectly-constructed brucemail:
“Hey, Bruce. Just checkin’ in…
Does Fairfield County have regulations on exotic imports?
P.S. the only leashes I could find are for the lapsapoos – anything bigger?
Thanks! Cuddles! Talk to you soon!”
Now the power is yours. Use it wisely, playhouse staff.
Amy.
“Hey, Bruce. Just checkin’ in…
Is it normal for the Norwalk bridge to be stuck in the up position?
P.S. is there any way a van could drive onto the train tracks?
Thanks! You rock. Talk to you soon!”
Yes…early on in our summer, the interns learned that when things go wrong at the Playhouse, who ya gonna call? Bruce Miller! (imagine the Ghostbusters theme)
It didn’t take long before a trend started…and WHAHLAH! Brucemail was born. Brucemail is much like a voicemail, except your call actually gets returned and requests get done efficiently (and with a Steaz). Better yet, if you don’t have a reason to actually call Bruce (or can’t get to your handy cellular because of badger infestation), brucemail can be uttered (or blogged) at any time at any moment. Don't worry...we all know the big man upstairs (in the production office) will hear.
But before you start brucemailling all over the place, you must take heed of the rules (VERY IMPORTANT! This is theater; it’s gotta have some structure…unless you’re in Germany in the thirties.)
RULES:
1) A brucemail must begin with “Hey, Bruce. Just checkin’ in.”
2) Somewhere in the brucemail, the brucemailler must ask for some kind of advice. For example: “Are ants in Connecticut supposed to have wings?”
3) Also in a brucemail, there must be a request for something from the Papa himself. For example: “Do you have the number for crane rental?”
4) All calls must be polite and end with a friendly goodbye as follows: “Thanks! (insert farewell of your choice here) Talk to you soon!
Here is an example of a perfectly-constructed brucemail:
“Hey, Bruce. Just checkin’ in…
Does Fairfield County have regulations on exotic imports?
P.S. the only leashes I could find are for the lapsapoos – anything bigger?
Thanks! Cuddles! Talk to you soon!”
Now the power is yours. Use it wisely, playhouse staff.
Amy.
A View From The Wings
I often wonder why I ever chose theatre, namely, stage management as a career path. As a recent college graduate I am quickly learning this business is difficult. There is little money, there is little certainty of employment and there is little stability. But then, there is always that moment...
An adreniline rush, butterflies fluttering in my stomach and a smile to myself backstage when I realize I am actively making my dreams come true. It is in that moment when I realize that stage managers and theatre technicians are magicians! Although we are unseen by the audience, we have the power to help them believe the unbelievable!
This moment was tonight just as the house lights went out. This moment happens in an instant and if I don't pause right then and there to take stock of and relish in the fire and passion I have for my work...I may never be able to recall it at the moment I wished I "had been a business major instead."
Julie*
An adreniline rush, butterflies fluttering in my stomach and a smile to myself backstage when I realize I am actively making my dreams come true. It is in that moment when I realize that stage managers and theatre technicians are magicians! Although we are unseen by the audience, we have the power to help them believe the unbelievable!
This moment was tonight just as the house lights went out. This moment happens in an instant and if I don't pause right then and there to take stock of and relish in the fire and passion I have for my work...I may never be able to recall it at the moment I wished I "had been a business major instead."
Julie*
This is just a test
Testing ...testing one, two ...
okay good.
Welcome, Fáilte, Benvenuto, Oideru, Willkommen, Zayt vilkum!
This is the blog spot for all 16 of the interns at the Westport Country Playhouse for the summer of 2008 (except for Kate who seems to have created her own blog). Hopefully by the end you will know each of us and can name all 16. Can I name all 16? Let's find out-
Laura Jernigan (that's me) also known as Roux - Education Intern
Megan - Wardrobe
Amy - Artistic (directing)
Helen- Props
Julie - Stage management
Holly - Finance
Josh - Development
Mike - Production
Brian - Production
Ashley - Electrics
Kim - Scenic Painting
Christine (Chris) - Stage Management
Rachel - Marketing
Sarah - Company Management
Kate - Administrative (I think that's wrong)
Kristen - Administrative
I think that's all of us. Got it? Good, you'll be tested later.
So we're going to try and tell you guys what it is like to be an intern here. Hopefully we will all be delightfully witty. Well, at the very least, entertaining.
And if you are wondering why we titled our blog "Hey Bruce, Just Checking In" you'll have to ask Amy. Maybe she'll even blog about it . ..
this was only a test
okay good.
Welcome, Fáilte, Benvenuto, Oideru, Willkommen, Zayt vilkum!
This is the blog spot for all 16 of the interns at the Westport Country Playhouse for the summer of 2008 (except for Kate who seems to have created her own blog). Hopefully by the end you will know each of us and can name all 16. Can I name all 16? Let's find out-
Laura Jernigan (that's me) also known as Roux - Education Intern
Megan - Wardrobe
Amy - Artistic (directing)
Helen- Props
Julie - Stage management
Holly - Finance
Josh - Development
Mike - Production
Brian - Production
Ashley - Electrics
Kim - Scenic Painting
Christine (Chris) - Stage Management
Rachel - Marketing
Sarah - Company Management
Kate - Administrative (I think that's wrong)
Kristen - Administrative
I think that's all of us. Got it? Good, you'll be tested later.
So we're going to try and tell you guys what it is like to be an intern here. Hopefully we will all be delightfully witty. Well, at the very least, entertaining.
And if you are wondering why we titled our blog "Hey Bruce, Just Checking In" you'll have to ask Amy. Maybe she'll even blog about it . ..
this was only a test
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