Saturday, May 28, 2005

The North Country

L. Crow here, dear readers ...

Woke up this morning to find a request for Thimbleberry updates. The show is becoming . . .fleshing itself out and I love it when it gets to this point. It becomes its own creature . . . Thimbleberry Gallows is beautiful, terrifying, dare I say it (Mothers - pull in your breaths and cover your children's ears) erotic, and ever so much more. That's why we haven't done much to the blogspot and website and such . . . we've got our faces smeared with Thimbleberry jam!

The cast is exceptional and a sheer pleasure to work with. The Man of Mulch has dropped the pen, and stepped in to be Henry Dobbs, for this inaugural production. Why? You might ask ... why not? I say. GreyZelda insists on setting a standard, an environment that all can be calm in. Safe in. A place where creativity reigns supreme. When guests join the process and don't bow down to a little thing called imagination, well . . . GreyZelda rears her bonneted head and moves quickly and assuredly, so ... the Mulch, once again, is the Man. And has allowed Henry to "breathe unsolicited", to quote the show.

There have been challenges that have come our way, to be sure, during the process of our little play. And we have stepped up and maneuvered our way through them. The situations, actually, have simply reminded us of what we've stood for all along and forgot about because we've incorporated additional creative help . . . I do firmly believe that a show needs all elements to work together harmoniously in order to be a success. A good time should be had by all those involved and if GreyZelda isn't the girl for you, please find something to your liking. Because she and we do what we please, what gives us pleasure, and in that enjoyment, we create something that we're proud of and that, even if we did it on the streets or in our living room, we would still be equally proud of it.

And we have that show, ladies and gentleman!!!!!!!!!

Did you know that the Group traversed up to Copper Harbor just last weekend? We spent some quality time in the Fort Wilkins stomping grounds and Kim Katona took some beautiful photos which will be premiering soon. The cast was able to research and be their characters in the actual environment and see how they would have lived. Talk to us after the show and we'll tell you all about. The pictures will be on display, as well, in the StageLeft lobby.

Heath Hays, our set designer, and Mulch will be leaving tomorrow morning at 5 in the AM!!! to pick the trees that will be sacrificed for the set. I'm excited about the arbors joining us.

Julie will be doing our lights next Sunday and the illumination will be lovely. Lisa has been invaluable being our assistant director and has been doing an exquisite job of it.

He and She, those maybe Hedonists, have created a soundtrack that will make your heart pound.

And, I'm just happy and accepting of this new GreyZelda development. I love it. And, that's all I ever want from a show. It'll continue to become and become and become and I'm honored to have the people working and sharing this show with us. I'm going to a couple army surplus stores, hopefully tomorrow, and a place along the lines of a Victoria's secret, as well, to add the final completions to the costumes, which GreyZelda decided to do after all. We had a girl make us a really nice crinoline, that Detta will wear (that's Melissa Kuhlmann to the outside world). It's already become dirtied, thank God!!!! If that little sewer, or seamstress, I suppose (sewer looks like, well, a sewer) had had her way, that crinoline would have never known the beauty of the wilderness and what a little dirt can do as far as accesorizing goes. Sheesh!!!! But, that's a whole other blog in itself. And Crow agrees with GreyZelda. It's done and over with . . .it was, essentially a lite sneeze in the process, which has since cleared itself up. I think you're going to like the costumes, folks. I sure do!

I'll write more soon . . . did you know that the Ravens up north are sons of guns? When I was walking by myself, through a trail running around Lake Fanny Hooe, I watched a triad of those big black birds play Rook of the Tree. They would try to push each other off of the tip of gigantic pines, repeatedly. It was silent but you could hear their mutters and the flapping of their wings. It looked like fun.

Caw to you, my cousins,
the littler, but just as tough,