Whole Lotta Nuthin'

There is nothing like a good creative stretch when work just comes spilling out. It feels so productive and energizing and when I'm in the middle of one of these periods it can be easy to forget that I had ever concerned myself with mundane details like food and laundry. I can become quite frustrated with having to deal with everyday activities when I'm on a roll. Then it gets worse when the creative river dries up and all that I am left with is a pile of laundry and a refrigerator in desperate need of being refilled. Not to mention a husband and child who are in need of some attention as well.

I am starting to think of these lulls as a necessary part of my creative cycle. This is helping with my level of resentment once my pen runs dry. Incubation periods are necessary. If it weren't for these periods with ideas and observations clanking around in my head the creative times would not happen at all. It can be hard to be thankful for these frustratingly slow periods when I'm in the middle of them, but I need to learn to appreciate them.

Of course what makes these lulls so frustrating is the fear that I'm finished. What if my magnum opus was that dance piece I did in school with the 6'6" dancing female reproductive system with maracas for ovaries? What if that's all I've got in me? Ever? Intellectually I know that those fears are just a sign that I need to take a break. I need to relax and pick some blackberries with some good friends on a mountainside in Vermont.

So that is exactly what I am going to do.

Spiderman or Marvelling at Marvel

After an eye opening trip to the comic book store down the street and two evenings of watching Spiderman movies with my son (both of which I have seen a few times before) I am starting to have a new appreciation for super heroes and what they mean to young (and much older) boys. Certainly I have spent some time in the comic book and super hero trenches in order to win the affections of various sinewy limbed young lads with uncombed hair and untucked shirts, but I never really understood the attraction. Of course I could make the intellectual arguments about how these stories adhere to the 'hero's journey' tradition in folklore and appreciate how each villian and each hero has very personal motivations and yadda yadda yadda. I loved how there was always a tiny thread that separated the villian from the hero and the conflicts were always epic in scope. Just like the great myths I was taught to admire.

What I didn't get and am only begining to understand is the instructive quality in the hero's journey. This is something, as a woman that is saddled with much different cultural expectations, that I am excited to learn.

Now, I must preface this by pointing out where most current educational wisdom stands on this issue. I'm sure just about anyone who grew up in America understands the general attitude toward comic books. They're like candy. The assumption is that they have little literary substance and that they are just a step above watching television. You will find that preschools that cater to upwardly mobile, college educated families have policies that specifically restrict super hero play. The reasoning behind this is that the establishment considers super hero play to be "limiting" and that it does not allow the child to stretch their imaginations. When I had my brief stint running a preschool curriculum I swallowed this hook line and sinker. I am now starting to re-think my position as it seems to me this wisdom comes from a very "feminine" position, and it may not necessarily be right for boys. It certainly wouldn't be right for my boy.

First let me attack the idea that the play is too "limiting" because there are certain ideas about who the characters are from the get go and that, educators assume, leaves little room for the children to create on their own. If this is true, then how has the Commedia d'el Arte survived? In the commedia there are a certain number of archetypes and there is a definite form to them. Do acting schools touch on the commedia only to give their students a taste of theatrical history? Surely that must be a part of it, but another part is that there is great freedom within the form. Once there is an understanding of the archetype there are an infinte number of ways to play with that character and students of the art have found great joy and freedom while exploring these archetypes within themselves. It isn't the character that is limiting. Rather than ban the character we should seek to challenge assumptions about the character and about good and evil, responsibility and power because that is what a good comic book does. That is what a superhero that lasts does. The super hero looks to express and explore what it means to be a man and is often a cautionary tale for how easy it is for a man to go astray.

Since I have Spiderman on the brain, let's deal with him, shall we?

Peter Parker (and most of the major classic super heroes) operates from a distinctly male fear- if I share what I am it will endanger those I love most. While this fear manifests itself literally in the story lines (the villians always use the girlfriend as leverage) this emotional spectre has always been lurking somewhere on the horizon for most of the males I've known. He loves deeply, but for the safety of those he loves he must wall off a part of himself. The super hero has great power, but he is ultimately doomed to lonely life, constantly on guard against super villains and the demons within.

While Peter Parker has a distinct moral center the way forward for him is shadowy at best. His sense of responsibility is often at odds with his personal needs and desires and yet his sense of duty always wins out but not without a great inner struggle. Spiderman has great agility and strength, but the stronger he is the more he has to defend. The tragedy of the story is that his incredible ability isolates him and makes him, and those he loves, more vulnerable

So what is my son learning from Spiderman? Well, the circumstances are quite complex. I like the fact that no one is just plain evil. Every villian has suffered some loss or humiliation- there is always a defining moment that tells us where the human broke and crossed the line. He is also learning that being "good" is not easy and that even the strong and the brave can be tempted but that we always have choices. He already (at the age of 5) relates to the fear that I have mentioned- the fear of caring and being vulnerable is very real for him. Although Spiderman does not always make the best of choices in his personal life, we see him struggle to understand himself. I'd say that struggle is worth something.

Women say they want their men to be more open with their feelings but don't we secretly swoon when we watch Spiderman silently whisking Mary Jane away from danger? I'll admit it, I will take a quiet and firm arm around my waist over a love poem any day. One just means more than another. Super heroes understand that and maybe it isn't a bad thing for our boys to explore that, too. After all, I believe it is through stories that most of us learn about ourselves and the world around us. It is through stories that we can step outside of ourselves and look at circumstances, actions and consequences. Our boys need heroes through which they can understand themselves. It is our job, as parents and educators, to realize that our children have their own wisdom. They choose to focus on stories and characters that speak to them in a way we can't. We need not to ban super heroes but to put the heroes through their paces and allow discovery to happen. Dig deep into the characters and find out what it is that has captured the child's attention and then go a little deeper.

That is where the stories live.

Giving Direction/ Needing Direction

I had always hoped that I would have ended up being some flamboyant genius director. I wanted to be one of those revolutionary directors that could leave a welt on the text. I wanted to be visionary, loud and odd.

I'm not. The more I work as a director the more I feel I should just get out of the way. I'm starting to see my job as a director more akin to a goalie than a master artist. My job is to define the boundaries of the text and when an actor or designer gets too close to the edge my job is to kick 'em back into play.

I suppose it is more than that. Beyond defending the outer edges of the given circumstances I am also a good host. Rehearsals should be loose and enjoyable and I get to plan the working party. I suppose I also play cheerleader and mascot from time to time but other than that I don't do much. That used to bother me. I used to complain that I wasn't DOING anything and wasn't serving any useful purpose other than being a really good pre-audience laughter guage. I am a healthy laugher. But now I am seeing the subtle and quiet value of my fly on the wall style. Occassionally I give a ripping good note and I can be fairly insightful, but mostly I just watch. And when I am not watching I am pretty good at pinpointing the reasons why I am not watching. Those reasons are often the same reasons that will cause a general audience to go astray. So, I make note of it and decide how to relay that information to the actor in question. That's it. There really isn't much else to my job.

Except for my aesthetic sense, which I suppose is important. Just not day to day.

But I am learning that I cannot and should not direct myself. I freeze on myself all the time and I don't make choices. I don't know how anyone else does it. It is most definitely a skill I do not possess. You can't imagine how it pains me to say so! But, in the immortal words of Popeye, "I am what I am and that's all that I am".

Well, good. I'm glad I know that much. It keeps my head from getting too big.

Tomorrow night I will be stepping on stage in a role I would not be comfortable with if I had a million rehearsals. As it turns out, I've only had two. Due to a bizarre set of circumstances I find myself covering for an actor in the show I've been directing (see notice on the right) and I wish I had someone standing guard on the edges of the text to kick me back into play. In the two rehearsals that I've had I have paced over the same well-worn path and I am terrified of deviation. What if I get lost and there's no one to bring me back? What if, what if, what if? Sometimes, it's nice to know someone is looking out for you so you don't have to look out for yourself.

Thank God, though, that I've got some stellar actors that I know have my back.

Maybe I'll feel better about it next week.

No Dignity in Needless Self-Torture

I once saw an interview with John Partick Shanley in which he bassically said that if a project isn't working and you feel miserable you should quit. This makes some sense and, for most people, would not have stood out as anything to remember. For me, however, it was revolutionary. I felt a pathway literally fire through my brain like a hot knife through butter. What do you mean, quit? Stop doing it? What?

The idea was foreign to me and I had to sit down and really think about what it means to be a woman of my word. I think many of us "dependable people" look at the world and see how others can be, well, less dependable. It makes us double our efforts, it makes us think that our dependablity makes us special. So, for me that means I will stick with a bad job or a bad project to the point of torturing myself. I am learning that part of having personal integrity is knowing when to say, 'there is a better person for this job than me'. It is okay to learn that you have limitations and it is okay to discover that you've made a wrong turn and you need to get back to the main road- fast. Sometimes it is okay to quit.

I recently had a pleasant conversation with someone who was overwhelmed by a certain responsibility. He felt he wasn't up to the task, but also felt that he was between a rock and a hard place because he assumed no one else could do the job. I heard the struggle inside him. I know he wanted to be shot of it. The job was just too big for him, bigger and harder than he could have imagined when he said yes to the job. The job made him feel miserable. The misery spilled out into his work. His work was not up to par. Everyone suffers in the group when one person is not up to the job. He quit. He felt guilty but much lighter once it was all over.

No, it is not okay to just quit because you're feeling diva and are bored. But if the job isn't right and if you aren't right for it, there is no shame in admitting it. There is great wisdom in knowing and understanding what it right for you. Now that I consider this lessson ( which I imagine I will be practicing for years to come) I feel a sense of freedom. I don't have to be chained to things that make me miserable simply because I want to be seen as dependable. I am not doing anyone any favors by sticking it out when there is probably someone who is just right for that job right around the corner.

The Universe wants us to be free. So choose it.

Love to the MSP

I am devastated by the bridge collapse in Minneapolis last night. I am lucky, however, as my family and friends seem to have made it through the crisis unscathed. There are still a few unreturned phone calls, but the phone lines were jammed up last night and I am refusing to panic about it. The news this morning is that 20 people are reported missing and the odds of those being MY people, I hope, are slim. Even so, I can't help but feel violated.

Minnesota is supposed to be a safe place. I didn't realize how much I had counted on that until last night. I know that I, personally, have chosen to live one ring out from the Manhattan bullseye and I have come to terms with that. But I always figured that the fastidious Finns, Norewegians and Swedes would be able to keep my homestate safe from tragedy. What could ever happen in a state where they never run out of baked goods (ever), Target is always well stocked and you can always find antifreeze, lock de-icer and a customer service person who actually gives a damn about their job? Prince has famously said that he stays in Minnesota because "...the cold keeps bad people away".

Intellectually, I know our species is on borrowed time. I know that no place on earth is completely safe. But I always felt that, no matter what happens to me personally, that the people I love in Minnesota would be protected by their geography and their pleasantness. It shakes me to my core to see that is not necessarily so.

And then comes the exploitative news coverage.

They always have to push it over the edge, don't they? Like emotional vultures waiting on the scene for the river to cough up leftovers for them to devour. Reporting is one thing. Using this tragedy to speculate and spread fear about all the nation's bridges while they have their graphics department working overtime on bigger and better visuals to play on viewers' anxiety is nothing short of sick. I'm not saying that the integrity of our nation's infrastructure isn't worthy of reporting. What I am saying is that the way it is approached is tasteless and exploitative. It would be nice if reporters went out and found some news and reported it instead of waiting around for something that gets ratings and then mining the story until it is played out. What would have happened if reporters who were just out covering a beat had discovered that our infrastructure was in trouble and then told the public about it when NTSB had that assessment? What would have happened if reporters were covering something else besides Paris Hilton's jail time? What if our news media found something more important about its work than making a profit? What if the news media decided to take control and let its reporters report news instead of trying to follow the whims of a fickle and insecure public?

Am I blaming the news media for the bridge collapse? No. I doubt any newspaper article would have been able to call attention to the problem in the first place. It would be nice, though, if the media could be proactive instead of reactive. If it could be full of information instead of sensation. It would be nice if the public would demand more from the news media and turn off the crap news that just doesn't matter.

My brother was among the many phone calls I made last night. He's a lovable crumudgeon. I'll paraphrase a bit in his voice (because it's more fun for me that way) but he said, " Well you'll see what happens next. Politicians will be making laws against bridge collapses and blaming each other and wasting the tax payers time legislating on shit that doesn't need to be legislated. You see, I've always been against bridge collapses! I signed the anti-bridge collapsing bill but my opponent is clearly pro-bridge collapse. Check the record, he voted no on the anti-bridge collapsing bill! And my opponent hates puppies..." He's got a point. We have such a negative, reactionary and exploitative culture and what gets lost in the shuffle and the bluster and the self-importance are people. At least 20 people are missing in the river. 20 people from my home. I don't feel that the news media or politicians or the public at large give that the proper weight.

In fact, human life carries very little weight at all. Be it American, Sudanese, or Iraqi all life is in service of entertainment. Just wait until you see the next DATELINE: Survivor Stories and you hear the familiar cadence of the Chris Hanson voice over detailing the dramatic story of someone special who survived the collapse. They don't see the survivor. They see the survivor story- and that is different. Stories are important. I love them. I believe in them. I need them. But it is disconcerting when so many true stories are forced into the same cookie cutter format and sold prepackaged to a ravenous public that consumes so blindly and so completely. They're like army ants. They leave nothing but the bone.

My heart goes out to the MSP. There is nothing I can say that can calm the shock or take away the grief. No matter how far I roam Minnesota is where I am from.

Messiness and Spectacular Saves

Ah! The lure of live theatre is just as much about the possibility of spectacular crashes as your average NASCAR event. It is just that the crashes in live theatre tend to be less fiery and more humiliating.

I've spent many a drunken evening lifting my glass to the glory of crashing. I've extolled the virtues of a messy theatre - a survivalist theatre, if you will- to anyone who would sit and listen. Well, if my company's production of "Adventures in Mating" has taught me anything it has taught me that anyone can talk. When it comes down to it, messiness is terrifying.

When you are involved in a show that has 60 different scene combinations and a rotating cast running one night a week messiness is no longer some passionate, adolescent artistic fantasy. It is a fact of life. Sitting in the back of the theatre watching these performers that I love and trust face the Goliath of a script and an audience every week is nerve wracking. It feels like I've thrown my baby to the lions armed with a Swiss army knife and some hugs. If the lion gets too close, son, give him a big hug and hope he melts. If he doesn't, well, I hope you can jam that knife into his jugular before it's too late. If that doesn't work out, well, it was nice knowing you. Bye. Mommy loves you!

It is sick to enjoy this feeling of dread every week. We're still tinkering with the formula, but I have faith that we will be a well oiled machine in a couple of months.

Of course, when that happens we will be required to up the ante and make it just a little more dangerous.

I only hope I'll get to see Ben's fully comitted, utterly dorky air kick again. That was a thing of beauty.

In the Beginning...

If Harry Potter has taught me anything it is that selling the premise is the most important thing in storytelling.

No, you won't find any spoilers about the Deathly Hallows in here so it is safe to read on.

A multitude of literary sins can be forgiven if you can do two things. The first is to believably construct the premise of the story. The second is to avoid betraying that construct. That's it. The key is not in gags, one-liners or even artfully turned phrases. It is the framework and adherence to that framework that matters. As my teachers used to say, "Within form there is freedom!". That, my friends, is the ultimate truth.

We cannot create in chaos. We crave order, outline and form. Pathways are important. They need not always be linear, but they do need to exist. Creation is the process of order- putting details in their proper places for a purpose. The purpose is usually to entertain, but if you go just slightly deeper than that you will find the desire to place the Universe in a context that can be understood. Ah, but if I go any further I will start sounding like that jackass Aristotle. (I'm joking Aristotle! I'm joking! Don't get your toga in a knot!)

So, if I am to look at literary creation from a constructive, as opposed to deconstructive, perspective I would need to consider the world in which my journey would take place. Now, here's the question, how does one construct the literary framework that will provide enough structure to sell the premise of the story without over constructing it so as to squelch all creative discovery? How do you give yourself enough room to surprise yourself and learn something new while still giving form and shape to the general premise? How do you know when you have it just right?

I was trying ot explain to my husband some of the finer points of the seventh Harry Potter book (which I know he will never read so I am free to spoil things all I want) and found myself flitting from book to book to make some of the things from the seventh book make sense to him. I can't help but marvel at the framework that Rowling has created even if I have found her phrasing to be tiresome and repetitive at times. That repetition is forgivable, in my estimation, because the structure of the tale is so well done and she never betrays her characters or her boundaries. Truth be told, she could have written complete crap and I'd never know it because I've become so invested in the series, the characters and the outcome of the circumstances. I've bought the premise and she could pull me to the ends of the earth and I would go willingly because she has earned my trust.

As a reader I am like a skittish little squirrel (I can't imagine I'm the only one!) and I can be scared off by formless storytelling. Betray the characters for the convenience of the story and I will rail against you like a New York City pigeon at the old lady who has just run out of bread crumbs. So I am beginning to think that my focus in my own work should be on the framework. On the beginning. I've got to sell the premise.

And I maybe should stay away from metaphors for a while...

MacGyver It

I'm bored with smoke and mirrors. I tire of things blowing up and gratuitous CGI. It annoys me to see a film or theater performance where the art direction dictates and overwhelms the story as opposed to enhancing it. I prefer the aesthetics of limitation.

Limitation does not mean everything must be stripped down to a black box with a couple of apple boxes. On the contrary. It is the creative problem solving while laboring under a tight budget that results the most sumptious and luscious visuals. Cheap and creative really gets my juices flowing. I once saw some friends solve a narrative problem in their film by projecting a film of things that were on the character's mind on the hood of the character's car while he was doing a driving shot. It looked great and it quickly solved a visual and narrative dilemma. The 1971 "Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory" is another of my favorite examples. That was a visually creative film without the gigantic budget films we see today. The visuals support the story, they don't drive the story. That creepy sequence in the boat is terrifying (at least, it was pretty damn intense when I was a kid) and that was done with lights and projection. Oh, and the endless office...what movie was that? Was that in "The Apartment"? That huge, never ending office mostrosity was simply a trick of mirrors.

I worry that the answer to so many creative dilemmas is just "throw some money at it". This does not mean that I do not enjoy or respect the artistry of computer animation or brilliant pyrotechnics or great stunt work. I do! However any tool needs to be used with understanding of each tool's strengths and weaknesses. No tool can make up for a lack of story or character development. Not for me, anyway. To me the endless parade of nonsensical light shows, whizzes and bangs is the equivelent of watching those videos made to entertain your cat when you're away for an extended period of time.

I advocate slapdash, spit and polish productions that make things work in spite of their lack of funds. It is fun to see a show that can whisk you away on the merits of the story, I certainly wish I could see more.

Letting Be

I sometimes wonder if I have "style". My favorite artists leave a mark on their work that is so distinct, not because they have a rubber stamp of their personality that they routinely use to hold down loose ends, but because they can't help it. The way they see the world and themselves in it is so individual that it seeps into their work regardless of the medium of genre. Arthur Miller has a very distinct and curious view of the world. Billy Wilder made wildly different films and yet, as different as they are, they all have an unmistakable wit to them that crosses over from noir to comedy because of Wilder and his ever-present collaborator I.A.L Diamond. Hal Ashby's films have a bizarre and uniquely masculine sensitivity. I could watch Katherine Hepburn all day long and never tire of seeing how she transforms her "Yankee sensibility" to fit her roles. The list goes on.

How I long to emulate them. Their style, their grace and, above all, their great wit and insight. But I also know that I cannot force myself to be anyone or anything other than what I am. If I am to have a style at all it can only be defined by who and what I am. I can pay hommage to the performers/ writers/ directors I love, but I cannot be them. I have to be honest with myself.

In a way that, well, that sucks. There is no short cut to self discovery and it is hard to just be who and what you truly are. There are roles we play. I often catch myself speaking in my sisters' voices. I sound like Kristen when I tell a joke. I sound like Pam when I flirt. Sometimes I will adopt the cadence of my friends' speech. I sound like Britt when I tell a wry or dirty anecdote. When I'm with Aaron I have to force myself not to conform to his London sound. I'm a verbal Zelig, changing my speech to suit my message and my audience. Then I go home and beat myself soundly for acting such a fool. Why can't you just be yourself? You look like such an idiot! Everybody knows you're a fake and a fraud! Stupid actor! Stupid stupid actor!

Clearly, that will not help me in my quest. But it is so much easier to be angry and self- destructive than it is to be responsible for change and growth. Anger and self-hatred is easy. Acceptance is hard.

A while back a friend of mine read a script I wrote. His first comment was, "Well, it's got your fingerprints all over it". I took that as a great compliment. Then I noticed that he didn't say anything about that being a good thing. My dilemma was how to take that comment. Do I worry about what a dork I am? Or do I realize that this guy is my friend for a reason and maybe my "fingerprints" might not be among the world's greatest, but if they are uniquely mine then I guess I've accomplished something.

I've expressed my self.

The End of the World

Leave it to me to find some reason to fret about my art while I sit under a dark cloud threatening to rain armaggeddon.

I was on the train yesterday reading Aristotle's Poetics. Now, I don't normally flaunt highly intellectual reading material on the subway but since I had just finished re-reading the last two Harry Potter books (in giddy anticipation of the upcoming movie and book release) and I hadn't had time to get to the book store to pick up a new summer read I decided to chew on some literary vegetables for a while. It has been on my shelf forever and I have never read it. I have trouble reading things everyone says I "should" read. I'm a contrary pig that way. At any rate, I skipped the introduction (which is, incidentally, longer than Aristotle's actual work) and started reading.

I found myself arguing a bit with dear Aristotle. You see, I bristle at any distinction between "high" and "low" art. His first mention of comedy seemed snobby and his critical disdain for satire and parody got my back up a bit. Then there was this little nugget: "Objects which in themselves we view with pain, we delight to contemplate when reproduced with minute fidelity: such as the forms of the most ignoble animals and of dead bodies. The cause of this again is that to learn gives the liveliest pleasure, not only to philosophers but to men in general; whose capacity, however, of learning is more limited." And so it has always been this way. Intellectuals tout their superiority over the masses and those who enjoy popular entertainment are irritated by the intellectuals' sense of self importance. So the chasm between the two grows and popular entertainment becomes raunchier and more grotesque while more "intellectual" entertainment becomes so lofty- to borrow a phrase from the character of Mozart in Peter Shaffer's "Amadeus"- they become so lofty it is as if they "shit marble".

The previews before Michael Moore's movie "Sicko" were full of this self- important, self- congratulatory air. It was so noticable that it caused my husband to quip, "Even the company logos are pretenscious." Oh look how clever and how visually stunning we are! Meanwhile the important things, I truly believe, the important messages are being delivered in comedy clubs and improv venues across the country. Subversives love these funny little hidey holes and they say whatever they want there. I'm willing to bet you that the best prophets throughout the centuries were funny. I bet Jesus had a raging sense of humor that we never hear about. How else could he command such a following? Think about it. People were no more nor less intellectual in Jesus' time. Certainly the best church experiences I ever had were while listening to priests who could set you up with a good joke and then reach through the humor with an insight that would knock you off your kneeler. So I think the "low" when done with great intelligence can be much more sublime than the "high" done with great sincerity, and ultimately it is more effective. And fun.

Intellectuals give off the reeking stench of seriousness, as if fun was beneath them. No wonder "men in general" show no interest in that kind of "learning". It is the word "capacity" with which I take issue, Aristotle (or possibly your careless translator) because I believe every human has an infinite capacity for learning. It is the desire that may or may not be lacking. Regardless, I find this schism to be dangerous in today's social and political climate.

Art and critical thinking can be great mobilizing forces in times of strife. But, if art and thought are not communicated in ways that reach people they are completely useless. As I look at where things are headed in this country I consider my own skill set and wonder what these skills are for. I am a talker. If I remain mute when I could have inspired a conversation or a debate then I have not been true to myself and my natural inclinations. If I talk, but only speak to please myself and indulge my own ego then I have not been true to my calling and I will have failed to reach anyone else. If I want my work to have meaning and to function in this society then I need to ask questions and craft my thoughts clearly and set my ego and my personal need for validation aside. I don't have to be the smartest. I have to be the bravest and most honest I can be in order for my work to be relevant. I have to get out of my own way and focus only on communicating with my audience.

And if Aristotle wants to classify my work as "low" I would wear it as a badge of honor.

On Michael Moore

I can't, in good conscience, call Michael Moore a documentarian. He is nothing of the sort. He is not a proper journalist either. He shows no interest in objectivity or even handed reporting. He has a very clear objective- he wants to win the audience over to his point of view. If I were to look at him as a documentary film maker I would be irritated. I would be pissed as hell as his films, entertaining though they are, are not documentaries. Regardless of the fact that my own personal politics are somewhat in line with Mr. Moore's, I do criticize his films' catagorization as documentary. They simply are not.

So it is a good thing that I can see him for what he really is... a writer (an essayist to be precise) who discovered that he could make a convincing argument on film that more people would see than would ever read anything he ever wrote. If I look at him as such, then I can sit back and enjoy his films with a third less guilt and pissiness.

I recently saw Moore's most recent film, "Sicko", which has been applauded by some of his most vociferous detractors. I was curious. None of the information was necessarily new to me, but Moore has a talent for putting things in a context that can get under your skin. He also has a talent for putting just the right, vomit inducing clips of W and Cheney in just the right place to make you want to pull all your flesh off and chew it until the urge to repeatedly pummel them (Dick and W, that is) in the face subsides. His use of music is more than a little heavy handed at times and he dismisses the idea that there might be issues with socialized medicine. I know why he dismisses it and I even agree with his overall assessment, but I think the omission weakens his argument to a certain degree.

However, I thought the film was affecting and more powerful than "Farenheit 9/11". I left the theater tired and red in the face from crying- as did a good portion of the audience who saw it with me including the solid looking, middle aged white guy in a suit who sat across the aisle from me. I felt for the people who appeared in the film and their stories touched me deeply. However, I am left with little to do now that the lights are up and the film is over. I feel empty and helpless. He made some veiled suggestion that we take to the streets, that we organize and vote... but organize for what? Vote for whom? You have my attention. You have my will.

Now tell me what I can do.

Ever Get the Feeling You've Been Cheated?

This quote pops into my mind so frequently it is somewhat disturbing.

For those of you unfamiliar with the quote, allow me to brush past a little piece of punk history. During a concert in 1977 or 78' John Lydon, aka Johnny Rotten, of the Sex Pistols mused the above mentioned line to the audience. If you watch the footage you'll see a somewhat crestfallen Lydon staring into the sea of onlookers looking befuddled and disappointed. If I remember correctly (and I might not) the song preceeding this moment was "No Fun". Indeed.

What intrigues me about this moment is how honest it is. The bluster falls away for minute and all that is left is a young man disenchanted with his fame. I've seen interviews where he asserts that this moment was for the band and that, "...the easiest thing in the world to do is to stop. If you don't want to be a pop star anymore, just stop...". I am fascinated by that. I am fascinated by what that means and am fascinated by how he didn't "just stop" and I wonder if it is humanly possible to maintain any kind of integrity in the face of money/ fame. He walked away. Sometimes we just have to eat. Sometimes we just have something to say. Sometimes we just need to be stroked.

Most artists- performers in particular- are hard wired to seek a certain amount of attention. How do we steer clear of arrogance and self indulgence when the business, the public and sometimes even the art itself encourages us to dive in? Even on the smallest of scales there is temptation to serve yourself over anything or anyone else. There have been times which I, as an audience member, have been eternally grateful for the artist's instinct to amuse him/herself. After all, half the reasons to watch something like "The Carol Burnett Show" are to watch these actors crack each other up. Tim Conway was terribly self indulgent that way- picking on poor Harvey Korman like that. And yet I love it. There is joy in it. Conversely, however, I tire of watching Robin Williams desperately try to keep people laughing at his manic state because I feel the real Robin is somehow hidden. Worse yet is watching Jim Carrey mug for love and affection with his elastic face or Chris Farley degrade himself in a very desperate and self destructive plea for attention. This is not to say that I haven't found some things funny or even entertaining about these performers, but sometimes it is more than too much and I am left feeling more sad than I feel entertained.

I digress more than a bit here because Lydon's comment is more about the emptiness left behind. Being a product, a commodity, is so often much more than people bargain for and the halls of many rehab facilities can attest to this simple fact. Being a product can't be good for a person. And yet, that is what the industry demands.

Then I think about Dave Chappelle. He did not walk away from his experience unscathed, I'm sure, but he seems to have managed himself from a very true place- a very self aware and honest place. How many of us can do that? I've sold myself for so much less than was offered him. Once again, sometimes we have to eat.

Where is the line? For sure, each of us has a different line. Some won't do "under fives", some won't do extra work, others won't work for a penny less that $20 million. All we really have to rely on is our gut instincts, but what if our gut instincts are the instincts which keep us quiet and our work stuffed in dark, seldom opened dresser drawers?

I have a middle aged friend who only hints at having ever been involved in the theatre. I know him as a dedicated father and lover of film. He has never let on to me his ambitions, however, I discovered today that he has a vast body of unproduced work just waiting. It seemed a cautionary tale to me that one could reach an age where they have never spoken of their life's work and therefor their life's work is never spoken of. How close does one hold the cards? How do you choose what to do with your work? How do you decide what to do with yourself?

As for me, I fear my own self-indulgence (after all, I did once convince a 6'6" classmate to dress up like a female reproductive system complete with maracas for ovaries just to amuse myself...) and my suceptibility to flattery. I worry about my arrogance and my ego becoming so inflated that it pops. I worry about being stolen from, bought and sold. I worry about the entertainment that is out there today and how it is made by committee and focus group instead of by artist and ensemble. I worry about honest questioning and different viewpoints disappearing in a world of pre-fabricated, die cut, corporate thinking. I worry about finding myself empty one night, staring at an audience of my own making while I have nothing left to give them but an already uttered query.

Ever get the feeling you've been cheated?

Ensemble

There is nothing better or more satisfying than finding people with whom you enjoy working. Personal chemistry is, indeed, an elusive thing but a good working relationship is not that hard if you know how to get off on the right foot.

The best way to promote the creation of a good ensemble is to be a good ensemble member yourself. Then surround yourself with people who are also good ensemble members. People who love the work in themselves more than themselves in the work are a joy to work with. If you love working with these people you will be more open to them and they will, in turn, be more open to you. The magic of an ensemble is in the openness, the trust that is created between cast and crew which leads to great explorations and incredible personal risks. A company should be about lifting each player- and by player I mean performer, administrator, box office staff, stage manager, prop master, etc- up toward their personal best and beyond. If you can find that in yourself you are more likely to find and join or create a brilliant ensemble.

If you can't, you'll be doing something else entirely.

As always, the choice is yours.

The Theatre I Want

The classics and I don't get along. And that isn't because I don't love them. It isn't because I no longer find them vital. It isn't even because they are so frequently done poorly. It is because I am an American. Specifically, I am an American who was taught to revere classical work as one would admire the craftsmanship of a Ming vase or an Egyptian artifact. They are old. They are delicate. They are needed and desired and therefor must only be observed from behind glass in order to guarantee their preservation. Playing with them is verboeten.

I suppose this is a variation on my Godot lament, but I'd like to take it a step further and explore what I really want from a theatre. From MY theatre! I want classics that can withstand my artistic teething and I want new works that are as strong as those classics. I want a rough and messy theatre with mistakes and passion. I want a theatre that does not follow another model simply because that is "just the way it is done" in American theatre. I want to reject the notion that bigger is better. I want an almost libertarian theatre. I want to bring back the kitchen sink and open wide its cabinets to peer at the dusty cleaning products, sloppy looking trash can and the refuse that has fallen behind it. I want magical forests made entirely out of gobos, blue lights and maybe discarded soup cans. I want music and silence, sex and virginity, decorum and depravity.

I can't remember what play it was that I saw with Judi Densch but I do remember her saying something to the effect of 'If you don't like the theatre then by all means, stop going.'. Yes! Absolutely! I've no interest in forcing people to love or understand the theatre. MY theatre. I will not be a whining Democrat begging disenfranchised soccer moms to rejoin the flock. I want a theatre that is what it is. I want to run it as if I am independently wealthy and it doesn't matter if people see it or like it. I want a theatre with big brass balls that clang like cathedral bells. I want to be afraid and I want to do it anyway. I want to be right and I want to be proven wrong. I want my theatre to be a witty, ribald, respectful, thoughtful, open sore. I want an audience that can't stop themselves from picking at it.

How's that for a mission statement?

Note to Actors: Be Human

Actors can be very frustrating creatures.

Last week I met a fellow at a bar and we struck up a conversation out of boredom. After about 5 minutes I realized that this guy was just going to keep talking and that he was not going to take enough interest in me to even ask my name. He was treating me as a test audience for some poorly written monologue he had bouncing around in his head. After about 10 minutes it became clear that it did not matter who or what I was, he was, literally, just talking to hear himself talk. After 15 minutes or so I was finally able to get a word in edgewise and I asked him...

"Are you an actor?"

He looked at me with great surprise. Since we had been discussing a local building development he could not fathom how I would have known his calling.

"Yes. How'd you know?"

I am too polite to say, 'Because you are clearly a self-absorbed ass and way too interested in your own feelings and observations about the world to actually include another human being in your conversation', but that was what I was thinking.

Now, the truth is, the best actors I know aren't like that. The best actors that I know use the skills they need in their professional life in their personal interactions. The best actors I know are not trying to 'create a scene' with the people in their lives being unwitting players in their self-constructed little dramas (with themselves as the stars!) but are listening and reacting to people in honest ways. Nothing is more obnoxious that having a long conversation with another person who is so self-involved that they don't even think of asking, 'Hey- how are you doing?'.

I was in the position to be working in a group with a particular actor who clearly took no notice of me, even though we had to work together. He just didn't find me interesting enough at first glance. That was crystal clear. He likes women who are taller, thinner and hair flippier. Perhaps I was too polite or even too quiet (I can be quiet sometimes, believe it or not) for him to take an interest in the lady in the countless black knit outfits. After some careful observation I decided to make a wager with myself. I gave myself five minutes on our last day of assigned interaction to get his attention and then see if I could keep that attention for the remainder of the project. I did. It was embarrassingly easy.

All I had to do was make three dirty references, casting myself as the naughty librarian type and BAM he was mine for the evening. After the first joke, he was a bit shocked. Just shocked enough to start directing his little monologue about his professional discoveries in my direction. After the second joke, he started to smile at me and then began to engage me in his discussion and asking my opinion. After the third joke he began laughing a little too loudly at everything I said and finally, after a few weeks of working in the same group and being largely ignored by him, he began to ask questions about me. But if you see what I did there and analyze what happened you might need to take a shower.

It wasn't until there was a hint of sex and the promise some imaginary titilation (and when there's imaginary titilation, then maybe a real sexual encounter could follow- couldn't it?) that I could get even the smallest bit of this actor's attention. It wasn't until the idea was placed in his mind that I could be of some service (real or imagined) to him in some way that I could get him to value my input as an artist. Sadly, a lot of actors (male AND female) operate this way. I am probably guilty of it myself. I hope not to this extent, but I'm sure I've made snap judgements like this before.

Now, I'm sure these two fellows are good to their friends and have nice points about them, but to me they came off as complete asses. Their behavior illustrates to me that if I am as self absorbed as they are that I could really miss out on opportunities to grow and to understand other human beings. After all, I know what I can bring to the table and I know these two gentlemen were missing it and were missing it because of their snap judgments about me and their own, inflexible personal conversational agendas. I'm making an effort to let other people in and allow myself to be changed by them.

It was pretty mean of me to manipulate that guy, but in a way I'm impressed with myself for having called it. I'm also disappointed in the knowledge that I used to bring out the sexual references on instinct. It is a cheap way to get someone's attention, but it works with the self-involved regardless of their sexual orientation. It is a tactic that gets results. Obviously I have filed that one away into my bag of tricks, but to be honest, I feel pretty gross about it.

I shouldn't have to display myself in that way in order for my ideas to get any respect.

But then again...Mae West is one of my heroes...

What's a girl to do?

Timidity

Many actors I know are surprisingly timid. Myself included. In fact, I could be the poster child for acting timidity. It's funny how my study has actually inhibited my ability to be broad and make bold choices. It is easy to use your training as a crutch and an excuse to adhere to "the natural". Sometimes it is the wild, the strange, the super human choice that best suits the piece and, as a director, I would prefer to work with a more inexperienced actor in that situation.

When was the last time you climbed a tree or sat on top of a set of monkey bars? As a kid it was just a natural place to be. As an adult we have a concept of falling, looking stupid, of personal fragility. A little knowledge is a dangerous thing. The last time I tried to climb some monkey bars I couldn't stop imagining my inevitable fall and the crushing back pain that would surely result. I'm sad to say that I climbed down immediately. I fear pain and looking foolish. Conquering those fears are the requirement of acting. In some cases you must purposefully seek those experiences. You must look stupid. You must experience pain. You must face the difficult and the painful and others must watch you. It is a damn near impossible thing to ask.

And yet, we do.

Why?

Why is there a desire to feel and experience and watch that which we most fear?

Last summer I bought my son a copy of "The Great Glass Elevator" by Roald Dahl. I had never read it, but I love Dahl's twisted work and we must have read "Charlie and the Chocolate Factory" at least a dozen times so... I figured... As it turns out Charlie meets up with those rotten, vermicious knids. The scene as it is in the book is actually really suspenseful and creepy. It is set up for the reader to imagine a most torturous and awful death and then it slowly introduces the knids. It's marvelously written, but was too intense for my then four year old son and his friend who happened to join us for this disturbing bedtime story. We had to spend an extra hour coming down from the terror of the book- which had to be put down immediately. I felt terrible for having read it to him and worse for having read it to his friend. After they had finally gone to sleep I vowed to make it up to them the next day.

After breakfast had been served and we were getting ready to go I discovered the kids sitting on the bed together with the offending book. My son had the book in his lap and was flipping slowly through the pages, showing his friends (there were some additions to our crew that morning) the pictures and describing what had scared him the previous night. They huddled around the book and challenged my son to turn that final page to see the picture of the knid. There was rapt attention and a palpable sense of danger as if the knid would surely jump off the page and devour their heads- but they kept going. They all stared at the picture and talked about it while I hid in the background, swelling with pride at their ability to confront the danger with help from their friends. They pulled each other through. They confronted a fear. And what was so stunning about it is that it took no prompting from me or any other adult. They displayed great courage and great friendship as they tackled this psychological impedinment to their daily joy. I'm impressed by that.

I am impressed and inspired. Although I, as an adult, logically know that there was nothing to fear, I know how hard it was for those children to face something so frightening to them. I recognize the fact that I might not make that same choice in my adult life. After all, isn't being afraid of looking foolish or having hurt feelings at about the same level as fearing a knid?

If a four year old can do it...

Choosing the Struggle

For the last year I've been working under the assumption that life is messy and any attempt to gloss over the mess or clean it up and keep it clean will be doomed to failure. So the point is to learn how to embrace the struggle because, in the end, the struggle is all you've got. Right? Well, I am now going to ammend this viewpoint slightly.

This is only a theory at the moment, but I am testing it out. Yes, life will always have an element of struggle in it, but what if you could choose which struggle? What if you don't have to be blown by circumstance like a discarded plastic bag? For example, I now have the opportunity to re-write a script about which I am less than excited. Two years ago I was faced with this choice and I took it because I needed to work and I needed the money. I was worried that I would never have another opportunity to work. I was miserable during the whole process as I had to write things that made me feel less than proud. Now I think I am going to turn it down. Luckily, I have another writer I can recommend and then I can just move on.

I'm starting to wonder if I have to make the choice to be a teacher and a writer for hire. Couldn't I make a different choice? Just because the work falls into my lap doesn't mean I need to take it. Of course, a certain kind of work does tend to fall into my lap and my current struggle is not about getting work but about doing work. If I change my approach then I will struggle to get work which means I may sacrifice some pay days along the way. But I could still choose.

For the record, I didn't get tarred and feathered yesterday. The show went well and the parents were happy and the kids did a great job. But once again I wonder if I need to keep beating my head against the wall trying to fit this square peg into a round hole? Maybe I would be a better fit somewhere else? Ultimately, I think I need to be a company member and not a solo artist puching a boulder up a hill.

I need to choose the appropriate struggle instead of letting the struggle choose me.

Measure of Success

It can be very difficult to guage success or failure in any creative endeavor. In an ensemble effort, each person has their own definition and that can range anywhere from simply having done it all the way to having expertly executing some technical task. Others will only feel successful if the endeavor is validated by some outside eye.

So which measure is the "right'' measure? How does one achieve success?

I'm white knuckling it through today because my second graders are performing for the school and for their parents today. All of a sudden I feel the need to justify my choices as a teacher and as an artist. I'm proud of them. They've risked and have been honest and they have tried so hard. They've created their own work and I think it is beautiful. But I am afraid that the suburban parents will only see the "mess'. Let's face it, my aesthetic is somewhat sloppy and I'm a little more 'go with the flow' than other teachers may be. My goal is that the children enjoy expressing themselves- that they experience some freedom through form. It has become clear in the last week that others have very different goals. Now it is coming out that there is an expectation of 'professionalism' (which is some nebulous idea concocted by people who don't do this for a living) and 'presentation'. Unfortunately, that is not my goal at all. I want the kids to be who they are not pretend to be the adult the adults in their lives hope they will be.

I'm feeling the pressure of judgement. Up until this last 2 weeks I've gotten great feedback about my classes. Then came the sniffling because I did not require fancy costumes or fancy scenery to be built. I stripped everything away and made it about the kids as much as I could. Now I'm starting to see that the expectation was more Vegas Floor Show and less Kids Being Kids.

Who knows? Maybe the parents will like it and they won't tar and feather me and all my anxiety will be for nothing. Either way, I've been run out on a rail before in my life. I can live through it again...

Sigh.

Chronic Dissatisfaction

I suppose there is somethig about the inner nature of the artist that will always feel uncomfortable or dissastisfied. There is not an artist I know that enjoys inertia. We suffer through it because we're human and we've nothing else to do. However, I am experiencing a particular kind of malaise to which I am unaccustomed. To put it succinctly- it's freaking me out.

When I am in the middle of work, my nose is to the grindstone and I feel good. I feel put together and motivated. However, especially when it comes to the classroom environment, when I am having those conversations about discoveries that actors tend to have with one another I am bored out of my mind. Maybe because the discoveries and the concepts and the exercises are not new to me. I use these techniques as a teacher and I enjoy watching my students encounter the concept but as a student I am left bored, restless and irritated. At 32 years old should I still be forced to endure yet another conversation about "Wow! I found that if I have my 'center' in my head that I walked faster and I was so irritated. That's cool that a body can do that..." without being able to respond "I KNOW I KNOW! I'VE BEEN DOING THIS FOR 17 YEARS! OF COURSE YOUR BODY CAN DO THAT!".

It isn't even that I don't find the work useful. I do. I love the work. I'm just looking for a new discovery. A discovery that is deeper and fires my synapses in a way that is almost as painful as it is euphoric. Class used to be where those discoveries were made.

I recognize that by virtue of my age and my years of experience that the process will be changing for me. I just hope this does not signal a loss of passion for the work. It simply cannot mean that I've reached "the top" of my game. I refuse to beieve that. I know I still have a long, long way to go.

I'm just not being challenged.

Artist Teachers/ Teaching Artists

I'm learning that there is a big difference between an artist who is asked to teach and a teaching artist.

Currently I am in a class that brings in artists to teach. Frankly, I am finding it a disaster. I'm getting a lot of encouragement and patting on the back but not so much information. There's a lot of soft talk but not so much action. Artists enjoy the art of talking but their pretty talk does not bear much fruit. I'm finding it frustrating and more than a little condescending. How many hours of "You really need to value your writing time and take that time for yourself every day!" can a fellow artist take? Obviously I want to take it seriously or I wouldn't have plunked down the big bucks for the experience of sitting in a dark room with you! So! Make with the wisdom, would ya? Quit with the back slapping platitudes! Let's talk structure! Let's talk plot! Let's talk about improving dialogue! How about circumstances? I asked one writer about building circumstances and she looked at me blankly. Really? Do I have to explain to the "teacher" what circumstances are?

Some people really understand how to light the way for others. These are the people with whom you want to work. They are hard to find, these artists who can articulate what it is that they do and how they do it. It is a very special person who can assess where another artist is at and provide guidance for that artist without going too slow or too fast. I realize that I have no idea which I am. Am I an artist teacher or am I a teaching artist? Perish the thought!

The jury is still out for me whether or not I want to continue teaching at all. It is hard to say.

Last night I was watching an episode of The Simpsons where Lisa and Bart both went to military school. At one point Bart and Lisa snuck out after lights out so that Bart could help Lisa train to tackle a physical challenge called "the Eliminator". After falling Lisa laments her failure to Bart who says, "I thought you came here because you wanted a challenge!". To which Lisa replies, "Yeah! A challenge I could DO!". Oh Lisa! It is almost as if you and I are one!

So I wonder if I shy away from teaching because it is not right for me or if I shy away from it because I'm not perfect at it. It is a hell of a lot easier for me to criticize what others have been attempting to give me then it is for me to evaluate myself.

For the record, living with this constantly questioning intellect is, indeed, as big a pain in the ass as you might suspect.