"The world only spins forward"
This is my punishment for not updating on weekends. Now I don’t even know where to start! Let’s list, shall we?
1) Show Me No H8 Rally: This was incredible. I am so glad to have been there to see what I think will be a little piece of civil rights history. Casey and I got there about a half hour before it was scheduled to start, and frankly, at first I was a little nervous. It seemed a bit sparse on the courthouse steps, and I thought that potentially it was going to be a bust. But then we were slowly but surely being surrounded by more and more people until we’d packed not only the whole courthouse block, but also some of the block directly across the street. If there was going to be a counter-protest, I don’t know where they would have even set up, because we were EVERYWHERE. At noon the chanting and speakers started, as well as the cheering for cars that were willing to “Honk for Equality” as they drove past. I was so moved and inspired and hopeful to see (official estimate) 400-600 lining the streets of St. Louis fighting for the rights of GLBT people over 2,000 miles away. Seeing both the previous generation of GLBT people, the couples especially, as well as the young people like me who are taking over this fight, made me realize how much it would mean to see this massive change happen for that older generation. I think I’ll see it in my lifetime, but I want these couples who have been together for 15, 20, 30 years to have it, too. They’ve earned it. It seems like all the protests nationwide went well, even the smaller ones. Apparently the one in Chicago was so huge that while the protesters were marching through downtown they had to shut down Michigan Ave. How cool is that? The pictures at jointheimpact.com are awesome. I think my favorite is the one from D.C. where hundreds and hundreds of people are marching towards the Washington Monument. Very cool stuff. I hope that 50 years from now we are looking back and saying, “The national Proposition 8 protests on November 15, 2008, were the marker of a renewed Gay Rights Movement.” I’d like to know I had a hand in something like that.
2) West End Players Guild Audition: What a revelatory this was, as is what it led up to later. Not to say that this was a particularly different audition from most. On the contrary, it was a very typical cold-read audition. No monologues, thankfully, but other than that, very normal. What was amazing was how my personal tics and tricks actually went away during my reading for Almost, Maine. I mean, they started at the beginning, but in the middle of it I managed to just relax, breathe, and let them go. And suddenly I was just listening and talking to my partner (who was super fun to read with, by the by) and getting lost in the work. It has been ages since I’ve been able to do that. Kind of with the Mustard Seed audition this summer, but I think I was still very aware of reading with Casey, which is something I’ll need to get over for List Item #4. That is, I was very aware of being an actor reading with an actor. Reading well, mind you, but it still felt like theatrical communication. The dialect was a reminder of “acting” as well. At WEPG, I forgot I was me. I was just there, with this guy, and I got to really listen to him. I MISSED THIS FEELING LIKE NOBODY’S BUSINESS. I haven’t gotten that lost in anything since ABM7. That was February! This is November! It’s been almost a year! AUGH! My favorite part of the whole thing was reading that first side and realizing that it ended with my partner giving about a half-page monologue. I looked down and thought, “Wait, do I not have to say anything else? Dude, DK, put the paper down and listen!” It’s so hard to show good listening at a cold read because you’re so busy trying to see what comes next and stay with the scene. If I’ve got nothing else I have to say, I can send all my energy and focus at my scene partner. It was this gorgeous Meisner moment of taking in everything he had to say and how he said it and letting it do something to me. SO AMAZING. What a great reminder of why I do what I do. The second reading went just as well, and for once I can say with certainty that I will not take it out on myself if I don’t get cast in this one. I kicked some butt. It was a shame the other show, the one that Casey and I were both eligible for, was so shoddily run. That director just wrote people off as they walked in the room. I hate that. Don’t waste my time or yours, Mister, if you clearly have no intention of considering me seriously. Boo minus to you.
3) Deathtrap: Casey did such a good job on this show! Seriously, Amy and I were so impressed with what he got a group of mediocre actors to do and do well. The fights were clean, believable, and well thought out. There was a moment towards the end of the show when the two main characters are acting out a potential scene in a play one of them is writing, and one charges the other, breaks past him, gets put into an arm/neck hold, and then stomps on the foot of the other guy. Amy and I realized this after the fact, but we forgot in the moment that that was stage violence that needed to be choreographed! It flowed so seamlessly from the actors’ regular blocking and movement that it didn’t seem like a “stage fight,” but something much more organic. That really impressed me. All his work in that show really impressed me. I’m sad he didn’t get to go see it himself, because I think he would have liked what he saw. Hooray for Casey’s first fight choreography gig in St. Louis! A job very well done.
4)Theatre company?: Ok, this has all come around crazy fast, but I think Casey and I are going to start a professional company in St. Louis dedicated to new work. We got home from that audition Saturday and said, like we always do, “If we don’t have anything to work on after [insert show here] (in this case, Twelfth Night), we should do our own show.” We say this every once in a while, keeping this idea of “our own show” on the constant backburner. But by Sunday, this started to move from an abstract idea into something much more real. We’re both sick of waiting around to get cast in things that we don’t even get that excited about. Why wouldn’t we want to put up our own piece that we were extremely passionate about like, say, a new work from one of the UI playwrights that really speaks to us? We miss new work. We miss looking at audition postings and saying, “I would kill to work on that show,” or, “I’d do anything to play that character.” We haven’t really had that here, so let’s make it happen for ourselves. So we moved the plan from, “If we don’t have anything else to do…” to, “Let’s say we’re definitely going to do this summer and start hunting down a script.” We already got a hold of Austin Bunn, our first choice playwright, and he should be sending us a 2M, 1W, easily-produced script free of charge. How amazing is that man? I miss him and his work so much. He has such a good heart and tons of artistic integrity. I’ve always been really impressed by Austin in many ways, and the idea of doing another one of his shows is really exciting. Timberland was the start of the “Fuckin’ AMAZING” duo. Since we blasted our way into that show, we’ve had so many doors open up to us that might still be shut if it weren’t for that show. It feels kind of like going back home, back to my roots or something. I just hope we like the script! I’m sort of banking on this script being something we get excited about, but I don’t know that for sure. Everything else about it is so perfect. It’s small cast, it’s low production needs, it’s Austin’s, it’s free; now we just have to want to work on it. There are a few content issues that we discussed being potentially problematic, but maybe they won’t be there at all. Or maybe they’ll be there, but the script is so powerful that we’re willing to deal. Otherwise it’s back to square one, though Austin did send me a link to playscripts.com which has lots of excellent new plays with very low-cost rights. So we have some other avenues to explore if this one doesn’t pan out. So we’re doing a show this summer, come hell or high water (no more floods, please!), and it will be done on our terms. Once we’ve picked a show and I can get an angle on it, I’m going to write grants like nobody’s business to hopefully get us some money, and then it’s just a matter of logistics, logistics, logistics.
Anyhow, after settling on this idea, I got up the next day thinking about what it could lead to. I thought, “Maybe you could own your own theatre company in St. Louis.” And it was like a scene from a movie: something just clicked and lit up in my gut, and I knew with certainty that I’d just figured out what it is I’m here to do. I’m going to use this show and any others that Casey and I can get up on their feet while we’re here to found a new works theatre company. This city has no new work company, so there’s a gap to fill. Besides, this has been the dream since high school. I’ve wanted for a long time to have a company, an ensemble of actors and theatre artists who know each other, work together, trust each other, and can therefore push each other to do the best work possible. That’s been my favorite theatre to watch professionally: Court Theatre, Lookingglass, even the Riverside Shakespeare shows. All from companies, not just casts. It’s just that I always thought it was a down-the-line kind of goal, not something I’d be tackling straight out of undergrad. Yet this seems like what I need to be doing. Graduation was only six months ago, and already I’m tired of leaving my career in someone else’s hands and spending a lifetime doing projects that don’t inspire me. Why do that if I can give myself exactly what I want? Plus, if I were the artistic manager of my own company, once we got large enough I’d be making my living entirely off of theatre. Producer by day, actor by night. THAT’S THE DREAM! That’s always been the dream! And I can’t even imagine the joy and pride I would have if I could actually own my own theatre space. To be able to look around at a stage and at rows and rows of seats and say, “This is mine, my own artistic playground,” is, well, the stuff that dreams are made of. No one in St. Louis owns their own space, not even the big, well-funded companies. Owning a theater is a pretty lofty goal here, but it’s not impossible. Everything starts somewhere. I feel well prepared for this. I’ve got a lot of practical arts administration skills and people that would be willing to teach me the things I’m missing. I’ve dealt with non-profit issues for years now, and have the resources to learn more about them like I have at DDHT with this whole grant-writing business. I’ve been through ABM7 and know a lot of what it takes to get a show up and running from scratch. I have Casey and Amy here, two people who are enthusiastic about this idea and whom I trust and respect greatly. If we can get something started that’s solid and respectable while they’re here, whenever they leave I’ll be able to keep it going on my own, or with whomever else appears on the scene to be a serious part of this. Maybe Arielle will come down and help me run it. Maybe I can get Tori out of Iowa City into a stage manager staff position. Maybe one day I’ll even be able to pay my bloody actors. I am positively thrilled about this idea. I’m already talking to Jody about how Riverside got started, as I essentially want to be the Jody Hovland of St. Louis, and I’m hoping she’ll be able to point me in the right direction and help avoid making a lot mistakes I’d make without her help. And Shannon can help me figure out this whole non-profit eligibility business. Then it money, location, people, money, scripts, publicity, money, time, and did I mention money? Because there will need to be a lot of that. But it all seems possible, and it definitely feels right.
I am so glad I came to St. Louis. It’s been life-saving, and I've come out on the other side of so much hopelessness with this life path to start walking and people to start walking it with. Casey will be an amazing partner to have in founding this thing, and we’ll certainly need Amy’s crazy ability to organize and plan in a LOT of aspects of all this. I told Casey that once he’s rich and famous in L.A. he has to come back and do shows for my company to get me lots of publicity. Casey Boland, artist-in-residence. It has a nice ring to it. Maybe I’ll be one of those legendary people in U.S. theatre for bringing regional theatre back to where it used to be by producing compelling new work as good, if not better, than anything happening on the coasts. Regional theatre used to be a big player; now it plays it pretty safe. I could help change that.
5) SATE Training: I don’t even know how to describe last night’s training. Cathartic? Rejuvenating? Inspiring? Challenging? Magical? All of these apply. It is so physical, more physical than anything I’ve ever done, theatrical or otherwise. So much of the Suzuki is about the will to power through, to work with your body and listen to what it tells you. I’ve never really done that before. I’ve never been even remotely in touch with my physical self, and I can feel myself starting to know my body better as it stronger and gains endurance and agility. And I did my first Open Viewpoints last night, and it blew my freaking mind. Twenty minutes of living in the physical and following every single impulse your body has. All communication and connection between ensemble members comes not from my brain, but my body. That’s revolutionary to me, to let my body speak for me. Twenty minutes felt like five, and I can say that I’ve never been that physically open before in any theatrical setting. Not watching myself, at least not after the first few minutes, and not feeling stupid because I’m rolling around on the floor like an idiot or having a really deep, personal connection with someone I barely know. No third eye. I didn’t know I was currently capable of that. It seemed like something to strive towards in the future, not something I have in me currently. Now I know better. The trust and openness and determination in that room every night astounds me. I am so lucky to have found them!
Plus, for the first time in my life, I have serious biceps. Craziness.
In closing…
PLEASE LET US LIKE AUSTIN’S SCRIPT.
That is all.
1) Show Me No H8 Rally: This was incredible. I am so glad to have been there to see what I think will be a little piece of civil rights history. Casey and I got there about a half hour before it was scheduled to start, and frankly, at first I was a little nervous. It seemed a bit sparse on the courthouse steps, and I thought that potentially it was going to be a bust. But then we were slowly but surely being surrounded by more and more people until we’d packed not only the whole courthouse block, but also some of the block directly across the street. If there was going to be a counter-protest, I don’t know where they would have even set up, because we were EVERYWHERE. At noon the chanting and speakers started, as well as the cheering for cars that were willing to “Honk for Equality” as they drove past. I was so moved and inspired and hopeful to see (official estimate) 400-600 lining the streets of St. Louis fighting for the rights of GLBT people over 2,000 miles away. Seeing both the previous generation of GLBT people, the couples especially, as well as the young people like me who are taking over this fight, made me realize how much it would mean to see this massive change happen for that older generation. I think I’ll see it in my lifetime, but I want these couples who have been together for 15, 20, 30 years to have it, too. They’ve earned it. It seems like all the protests nationwide went well, even the smaller ones. Apparently the one in Chicago was so huge that while the protesters were marching through downtown they had to shut down Michigan Ave. How cool is that? The pictures at jointheimpact.com are awesome. I think my favorite is the one from D.C. where hundreds and hundreds of people are marching towards the Washington Monument. Very cool stuff. I hope that 50 years from now we are looking back and saying, “The national Proposition 8 protests on November 15, 2008, were the marker of a renewed Gay Rights Movement.” I’d like to know I had a hand in something like that.
2) West End Players Guild Audition: What a revelatory this was, as is what it led up to later. Not to say that this was a particularly different audition from most. On the contrary, it was a very typical cold-read audition. No monologues, thankfully, but other than that, very normal. What was amazing was how my personal tics and tricks actually went away during my reading for Almost, Maine. I mean, they started at the beginning, but in the middle of it I managed to just relax, breathe, and let them go. And suddenly I was just listening and talking to my partner (who was super fun to read with, by the by) and getting lost in the work. It has been ages since I’ve been able to do that. Kind of with the Mustard Seed audition this summer, but I think I was still very aware of reading with Casey, which is something I’ll need to get over for List Item #4. That is, I was very aware of being an actor reading with an actor. Reading well, mind you, but it still felt like theatrical communication. The dialect was a reminder of “acting” as well. At WEPG, I forgot I was me. I was just there, with this guy, and I got to really listen to him. I MISSED THIS FEELING LIKE NOBODY’S BUSINESS. I haven’t gotten that lost in anything since ABM7. That was February! This is November! It’s been almost a year! AUGH! My favorite part of the whole thing was reading that first side and realizing that it ended with my partner giving about a half-page monologue. I looked down and thought, “Wait, do I not have to say anything else? Dude, DK, put the paper down and listen!” It’s so hard to show good listening at a cold read because you’re so busy trying to see what comes next and stay with the scene. If I’ve got nothing else I have to say, I can send all my energy and focus at my scene partner. It was this gorgeous Meisner moment of taking in everything he had to say and how he said it and letting it do something to me. SO AMAZING. What a great reminder of why I do what I do. The second reading went just as well, and for once I can say with certainty that I will not take it out on myself if I don’t get cast in this one. I kicked some butt. It was a shame the other show, the one that Casey and I were both eligible for, was so shoddily run. That director just wrote people off as they walked in the room. I hate that. Don’t waste my time or yours, Mister, if you clearly have no intention of considering me seriously. Boo minus to you.
3) Deathtrap: Casey did such a good job on this show! Seriously, Amy and I were so impressed with what he got a group of mediocre actors to do and do well. The fights were clean, believable, and well thought out. There was a moment towards the end of the show when the two main characters are acting out a potential scene in a play one of them is writing, and one charges the other, breaks past him, gets put into an arm/neck hold, and then stomps on the foot of the other guy. Amy and I realized this after the fact, but we forgot in the moment that that was stage violence that needed to be choreographed! It flowed so seamlessly from the actors’ regular blocking and movement that it didn’t seem like a “stage fight,” but something much more organic. That really impressed me. All his work in that show really impressed me. I’m sad he didn’t get to go see it himself, because I think he would have liked what he saw. Hooray for Casey’s first fight choreography gig in St. Louis! A job very well done.
4)Theatre company?: Ok, this has all come around crazy fast, but I think Casey and I are going to start a professional company in St. Louis dedicated to new work. We got home from that audition Saturday and said, like we always do, “If we don’t have anything to work on after [insert show here] (in this case, Twelfth Night), we should do our own show.” We say this every once in a while, keeping this idea of “our own show” on the constant backburner. But by Sunday, this started to move from an abstract idea into something much more real. We’re both sick of waiting around to get cast in things that we don’t even get that excited about. Why wouldn’t we want to put up our own piece that we were extremely passionate about like, say, a new work from one of the UI playwrights that really speaks to us? We miss new work. We miss looking at audition postings and saying, “I would kill to work on that show,” or, “I’d do anything to play that character.” We haven’t really had that here, so let’s make it happen for ourselves. So we moved the plan from, “If we don’t have anything else to do…” to, “Let’s say we’re definitely going to do this summer and start hunting down a script.” We already got a hold of Austin Bunn, our first choice playwright, and he should be sending us a 2M, 1W, easily-produced script free of charge. How amazing is that man? I miss him and his work so much. He has such a good heart and tons of artistic integrity. I’ve always been really impressed by Austin in many ways, and the idea of doing another one of his shows is really exciting. Timberland was the start of the “Fuckin’ AMAZING” duo. Since we blasted our way into that show, we’ve had so many doors open up to us that might still be shut if it weren’t for that show. It feels kind of like going back home, back to my roots or something. I just hope we like the script! I’m sort of banking on this script being something we get excited about, but I don’t know that for sure. Everything else about it is so perfect. It’s small cast, it’s low production needs, it’s Austin’s, it’s free; now we just have to want to work on it. There are a few content issues that we discussed being potentially problematic, but maybe they won’t be there at all. Or maybe they’ll be there, but the script is so powerful that we’re willing to deal. Otherwise it’s back to square one, though Austin did send me a link to playscripts.com which has lots of excellent new plays with very low-cost rights. So we have some other avenues to explore if this one doesn’t pan out. So we’re doing a show this summer, come hell or high water (no more floods, please!), and it will be done on our terms. Once we’ve picked a show and I can get an angle on it, I’m going to write grants like nobody’s business to hopefully get us some money, and then it’s just a matter of logistics, logistics, logistics.
Anyhow, after settling on this idea, I got up the next day thinking about what it could lead to. I thought, “Maybe you could own your own theatre company in St. Louis.” And it was like a scene from a movie: something just clicked and lit up in my gut, and I knew with certainty that I’d just figured out what it is I’m here to do. I’m going to use this show and any others that Casey and I can get up on their feet while we’re here to found a new works theatre company. This city has no new work company, so there’s a gap to fill. Besides, this has been the dream since high school. I’ve wanted for a long time to have a company, an ensemble of actors and theatre artists who know each other, work together, trust each other, and can therefore push each other to do the best work possible. That’s been my favorite theatre to watch professionally: Court Theatre, Lookingglass, even the Riverside Shakespeare shows. All from companies, not just casts. It’s just that I always thought it was a down-the-line kind of goal, not something I’d be tackling straight out of undergrad. Yet this seems like what I need to be doing. Graduation was only six months ago, and already I’m tired of leaving my career in someone else’s hands and spending a lifetime doing projects that don’t inspire me. Why do that if I can give myself exactly what I want? Plus, if I were the artistic manager of my own company, once we got large enough I’d be making my living entirely off of theatre. Producer by day, actor by night. THAT’S THE DREAM! That’s always been the dream! And I can’t even imagine the joy and pride I would have if I could actually own my own theatre space. To be able to look around at a stage and at rows and rows of seats and say, “This is mine, my own artistic playground,” is, well, the stuff that dreams are made of. No one in St. Louis owns their own space, not even the big, well-funded companies. Owning a theater is a pretty lofty goal here, but it’s not impossible. Everything starts somewhere. I feel well prepared for this. I’ve got a lot of practical arts administration skills and people that would be willing to teach me the things I’m missing. I’ve dealt with non-profit issues for years now, and have the resources to learn more about them like I have at DDHT with this whole grant-writing business. I’ve been through ABM7 and know a lot of what it takes to get a show up and running from scratch. I have Casey and Amy here, two people who are enthusiastic about this idea and whom I trust and respect greatly. If we can get something started that’s solid and respectable while they’re here, whenever they leave I’ll be able to keep it going on my own, or with whomever else appears on the scene to be a serious part of this. Maybe Arielle will come down and help me run it. Maybe I can get Tori out of Iowa City into a stage manager staff position. Maybe one day I’ll even be able to pay my bloody actors. I am positively thrilled about this idea. I’m already talking to Jody about how Riverside got started, as I essentially want to be the Jody Hovland of St. Louis, and I’m hoping she’ll be able to point me in the right direction and help avoid making a lot mistakes I’d make without her help. And Shannon can help me figure out this whole non-profit eligibility business. Then it money, location, people, money, scripts, publicity, money, time, and did I mention money? Because there will need to be a lot of that. But it all seems possible, and it definitely feels right.
I am so glad I came to St. Louis. It’s been life-saving, and I've come out on the other side of so much hopelessness with this life path to start walking and people to start walking it with. Casey will be an amazing partner to have in founding this thing, and we’ll certainly need Amy’s crazy ability to organize and plan in a LOT of aspects of all this. I told Casey that once he’s rich and famous in L.A. he has to come back and do shows for my company to get me lots of publicity. Casey Boland, artist-in-residence. It has a nice ring to it. Maybe I’ll be one of those legendary people in U.S. theatre for bringing regional theatre back to where it used to be by producing compelling new work as good, if not better, than anything happening on the coasts. Regional theatre used to be a big player; now it plays it pretty safe. I could help change that.
5) SATE Training: I don’t even know how to describe last night’s training. Cathartic? Rejuvenating? Inspiring? Challenging? Magical? All of these apply. It is so physical, more physical than anything I’ve ever done, theatrical or otherwise. So much of the Suzuki is about the will to power through, to work with your body and listen to what it tells you. I’ve never really done that before. I’ve never been even remotely in touch with my physical self, and I can feel myself starting to know my body better as it stronger and gains endurance and agility. And I did my first Open Viewpoints last night, and it blew my freaking mind. Twenty minutes of living in the physical and following every single impulse your body has. All communication and connection between ensemble members comes not from my brain, but my body. That’s revolutionary to me, to let my body speak for me. Twenty minutes felt like five, and I can say that I’ve never been that physically open before in any theatrical setting. Not watching myself, at least not after the first few minutes, and not feeling stupid because I’m rolling around on the floor like an idiot or having a really deep, personal connection with someone I barely know. No third eye. I didn’t know I was currently capable of that. It seemed like something to strive towards in the future, not something I have in me currently. Now I know better. The trust and openness and determination in that room every night astounds me. I am so lucky to have found them!
Plus, for the first time in my life, I have serious biceps. Craziness.
In closing…
PLEASE LET US LIKE AUSTIN’S SCRIPT.
That is all.