(Edited 11/10/2007 - Kelly Breheny is playing the role of Catherine and Gene Van Dyke is playing the role of Mike/First Officer)
Hi, GreyZelda readers -
It's almost September. Sheesh. I'm feeling a sadness that I can put several fingers on but I won't get into that here ... I normally do those types of writings over at my Lady Crow myspace site and keep this blog for GreyZelda goings ons or thoughts on theatre and sech. If you want to visit me over in myspace land, please feel free. The link is right over there on the left. Rock it.
So ... updating, updating, updating.
We're heading over to Angel Island tomorrow night to sign the contract and put money down for The Skriker which will open in Thursday, April 17th and will run until Saturday, May 10th of 2008. We're looking forward to working with the Mary-Arrchie folks!
On Friday, Chris, me and his parents will be driving to West Virginia and we'll return on Sunday. We'll visit his grandma's grave and see his uncle as well as one of our dearest friends of all time, Matt Hedrick and his family.
Robert has been submitting music ideas to Chris and they're lovely. Robert and Kristen are located in Atlanta, GA, but working long distance really hasn't turned into an issue. The music is lovely. Ed's doing his thing in New York. I'm going to be talking to Sarah Stec soon about brochures and sech.
We have the majority of the cast for A View from the Bridge which is opening in January. Drum roll please!!!!
Eddie - Aris Tompulis
Beatrice - Nicolle Van Dyke
Catherine - Jenny Myers
Alfieria - Dave Lykins
Marco - Dave Goss
Rodolpho - Tom Gordon
Thank you to everyone who helped us during the readings! We're really looking forward to working with this cast and think that the process will be lots o' fun.
We still need to ask some peeps if they would be interested in the parts of Louis, Mike, and the other neighborhood characters. If you or someone you know would like to hang with us at GreyZelda and fill those roles ... primarily male ... please let us know. There'll be some serious "hangin' out" to be done with good people. Just email us at greyzeldatheatre@yahoo.com if you'd be interested.
What else, what else ... we need to get some fund raisers organized, so, again, if that's something you'd like to help with, do let us know!
Rock and roll. Enjoy the rest of your summer ... fall's knocking at the door..... this little crow girl loves fall, don't get me wrong, but ... I always miss summer.
Yours,
RZ
Wednesday, August 29, 2007
Thursday, August 16, 2007
Rawheadbloodybones
Lisa and I have been continuing our Skriker conversations and it's been great researching and obsessing on the Faerie lands. Did you know that Oaks are considered faerie trees? Yes, indeed. So, imagine the power of a Live Oak draped with moss in Louisiana .... mmmmm. The faeries and the dead abound.We picked up where we left off last time and continued through The Skriker's opening monologue. I'm giving brief descriptions of what we discussed, but it's by no means complete ... just a little taste.
"Put my hand to the baby and scissors seizures
seize you sizzle. Metal cross cross me out cross
my heartburn sunburn sunbeam in my eyelash your
back. Or garlic lickety split me in two with the
stink bombastic. Or pin prick cockadoodle do you
feel it? But if the baby has no name better nick a
name, better Old Nick than no name, because then
we can have the snap crackle poppet to bake and
brew and broody more babies and leave them an
impossible, a gobbling, a no."
So, amongst other things we discussed how umbilical cords get cut, how faeries HATE iron, rituals to get rid of vampires, pretentious shit, goblins and changelings.
"I've been a hairy here he is changeling changing
chainsaw massacre missive a sieve to carry water
from the well well what's to be done? Brother
brewed beer in an eggshell. I said I'm old old
every so olden dazed but I never see saw marjory
before three two one blast off!"
King Arthur was Queen Maeve's half-brother, by the by. The changeling stock isn't doing too well. The Skriker's too old for this shit, in a nut - or egg - shell.
"Put me on a red hot shovel pushel bushel and a
peck peck peck. Gave me red hot metal in a piping
hot metal in a pie ping pong what a stink. Call the
vicar to exorcise exercise regular sex a size larger
six or seventh heaven and hellcat."
Cooking, creatures, cauldrons. Energy. More changeling rituals.
"Chopped up the hag whole hog higgledy pig in the
middle. Kelpie gallops them into the loch stock
and barrel of fun fair enough and eats them, falls
out of the water into love with a ladylike, his head
in her lap lap lap, her hand in his hairy, there is
sand in it there is and there is sand and shells
shock. Bloody Bones hides in the dark dark dark
we all go into the dark cupboard love all. See
through the slit where he sits on piles of bloody
boney was a warrior and chews whom he likes.
Dollop gollop fullup."
Maybe I'll start making entries about the Underworld creatures featured in the Skriker because they're all very fascinating ... this paragraph starts the introductions and talks about the Hag, the Kelpie and Rawheadbloodybones with a nod to Jenny Greenteeth and the other green women beings. Warriors, soldiers, sacrifices, oral sex, child murderers and cannibals.
"But they're so fair fairy fair enough's as good as a
feast day. Take them by the handle and dance in
the fairy ring a ring ding sweet for a year and a
day date data dated her and never finished the first
reel first real dance in the fairy ring on your finger
and bluebell would wouldn't it. Their friends drag
'em out dragon laying the country waste of time
gentlemen. Listless and pale beyond the pale
moonlight of hear sore her with spirits with spirit
dancing the night away in a mangy no no no come
back again."
The Fair Fairy. She's not doing so well. I'll tell you lots more about her later because she's really haunting and fascinating.
Lisa and I meeting again this evening to discuss the next page.
On the View from the Bridge front ... the cast is almost set. We're having people come over on Sunday to read certain scenes. Chris is getting film ideas together to send over to Ed who's located in New York and is helping us on the video end. Heath has some initial set ideas and we're waiting to get the complete presentation. Robert has put some music themes together that are pretty awesome ... we'll announce the cast list as soon as it's complete. Rehearsals will probably begin mid-October, but we're taking care of business behind the scenes as much as possible because adding the film element is a new idea for us.
Oh! and Skriker will be performed in April at Angel Island (Mary-Arrchie's theatre). Exact dates will be announced soon when the contract is completed and signed.
Rock and roll.
RZ
Monday, August 06, 2007
Rose Tint My World
http://www.brainyquote.com/quotes/keywords/critics.html
I posted the link for quotes about critics because a lot of the quotes made me smile and feel a little bit better about a situation that occured this weekend ... sometimes an artist needs to realize that, yes, the critics are apart of your audience, but you can't allow them to completely reflect your audience. GreyZelda has a couple of critics that seem to wish we would curl up and die (yes, I'm being a bit melodramatic here) ... but, to quote Tori Amos, "Let's not give that one a try." We can't create shows wondering what the critics will say ... we have to create shows that we believe in and, through that belief, hopefully our audiences, including critics, will believe, too.
There are a lot of critics that I've had the pleasure to meet here in Chicago that I really admire: Jack Helbig, Mary Shen Barnidge and Kris Vire and the Timeout Chicago gang and most of the Reader's critics top my list of reviews that I always enjoy reading. My favorite experiences have been when a critic will come before or after the show and talk with us about what they just saw, for good and for bad .... it creates a two-sided conversation that has really been informative and helpful to our endeavours. And, I like meeting people in our audience, point blank. We like it when critics come just because ... we know they're extremely busy but like seeing them when they're not there for their respective publications. It's nice to see them. Unfortunately, I've run into some negative situations with reviewers because, for example, they've come to see our shows, came and left without a word, published their review (either through a respected publication or their own blog) and then got really mad when I either responded to them via email about their review (yeah, I've got a mouth - I sure as heck won't deny it) or went through their review online with the Lady Crow tongue-in-cheek. I believe in what I say and what I put my (or Lady Crow's) name to - and I'm not saying I'm the sweetest corn on the cob, by any means. The situation this weekend involved the fact that I was accused of writing someting I didn't (and I was so not looking for something like this, but what can a girl do sometimes?). I'm looking at the whole thing with a positive spin and believe that it's as resolved as it's going to be. On the learning front, it exposed a fact that I was unaware of ... there are people who read everything you write online even if it's no longer available on the internet and was taken care of through private correspondence and a reached understanding. Never forget this fact, fellow bloggers and artists. You must stand by your word and art. By all means, don't hush up your voice in fear of having it used against you. For God's sake, please don't do that. Just know ... if that's something that bothers you, be careful what you say.
Big Brother or Sister may come and get you someday.
In the meantime, I'm really looking to focus on our upcoming season and hope that there won't be any further skermishes that I can or can't take credit for on public forums. I like to join the discussions on the other theatre blogs, but please know, readers, that if the comment's not from GreyZelda, RebeccaZ, RZ, Lady Crow, or bz then it ain't my stink. I don't like being anonymous nor do I like being falsely accused of being an anonymous coward. It's the theatre person in me, I guess. And, to all you, to quote Don Hall, "anonymous fuckwads" out there ... put your name to what you write, please. You're making other people look bad.
Rebecca
I posted the link for quotes about critics because a lot of the quotes made me smile and feel a little bit better about a situation that occured this weekend ... sometimes an artist needs to realize that, yes, the critics are apart of your audience, but you can't allow them to completely reflect your audience. GreyZelda has a couple of critics that seem to wish we would curl up and die (yes, I'm being a bit melodramatic here) ... but, to quote Tori Amos, "Let's not give that one a try." We can't create shows wondering what the critics will say ... we have to create shows that we believe in and, through that belief, hopefully our audiences, including critics, will believe, too.
There are a lot of critics that I've had the pleasure to meet here in Chicago that I really admire: Jack Helbig, Mary Shen Barnidge and Kris Vire and the Timeout Chicago gang and most of the Reader's critics top my list of reviews that I always enjoy reading. My favorite experiences have been when a critic will come before or after the show and talk with us about what they just saw, for good and for bad .... it creates a two-sided conversation that has really been informative and helpful to our endeavours. And, I like meeting people in our audience, point blank. We like it when critics come just because ... we know they're extremely busy but like seeing them when they're not there for their respective publications. It's nice to see them. Unfortunately, I've run into some negative situations with reviewers because, for example, they've come to see our shows, came and left without a word, published their review (either through a respected publication or their own blog) and then got really mad when I either responded to them via email about their review (yeah, I've got a mouth - I sure as heck won't deny it) or went through their review online with the Lady Crow tongue-in-cheek. I believe in what I say and what I put my (or Lady Crow's) name to - and I'm not saying I'm the sweetest corn on the cob, by any means. The situation this weekend involved the fact that I was accused of writing someting I didn't (and I was so not looking for something like this, but what can a girl do sometimes?). I'm looking at the whole thing with a positive spin and believe that it's as resolved as it's going to be. On the learning front, it exposed a fact that I was unaware of ... there are people who read everything you write online even if it's no longer available on the internet and was taken care of through private correspondence and a reached understanding. Never forget this fact, fellow bloggers and artists. You must stand by your word and art. By all means, don't hush up your voice in fear of having it used against you. For God's sake, please don't do that. Just know ... if that's something that bothers you, be careful what you say.
Big Brother or Sister may come and get you someday.
In the meantime, I'm really looking to focus on our upcoming season and hope that there won't be any further skermishes that I can or can't take credit for on public forums. I like to join the discussions on the other theatre blogs, but please know, readers, that if the comment's not from GreyZelda, RebeccaZ, RZ, Lady Crow, or bz then it ain't my stink. I don't like being anonymous nor do I like being falsely accused of being an anonymous coward. It's the theatre person in me, I guess. And, to all you, to quote Don Hall, "anonymous fuckwads" out there ... put your name to what you write, please. You're making other people look bad.
Rebecca
Saturday, July 21, 2007
Lyonesse Under the Sea
Lisa Wilson and I have begun work on dissecting and discussing The Skriker by Caryl Churchill. She will be playing the shape shifter and is wonderful at wanting to get as much research in as possible. She's one of the most dedicated actors I've had the pleasure to work with and it's going to be incredible helping her shape and become the role. Lisa played Morse in One Flea Spare, which was GreyZelda's first production in Chicago and, during the rehearsal process, we went to T's Bar and Grill, I told her about The Skriker and how it's been one of my favorite plays since I directed it in college. I promised her that evening that if we ever did The Skriker, I would love her to consider playing the role. The time has come to do the show ... she's available and I can't think of another artist I would want to work on with this other than the talented LZ.We started the initial meeting by watching the old video of my 1998 production performed at Michigan State University ... there were many things we laughed about ... for example, she thought I was kidding when I said I used Studio 54 as an inspiration, but when the party struck up in the Underworld midway through the play and the disco music started blaring and the disco ball started sparkling, she realized that, yes, indeed I went for a Studio 54 theme ... ah ... college. I was really into (and still am) the subject of "glamour" which a faerieworld creature can put on and off so blending 70's party culture with the dionysian splendour of the Skriker's cast of characters seemed perfect to me ... plus you had the drug culture, rampant sex and fabulous polyester clothing.
There were a few things from my initial blocking that I may end up exploring more, but a lot of it will be sparkling and brand new with the new cast. GreyZelda really likes its actors and we try to cast people that will really bring a sense of originality and exploration to the process, so there's going to be tons of room to play and create scenes around the performer's individual talents.
Lisa also brought over a ton of Faerie books ... oodles of Froud, history and stories ...
We started going through the Srikers's first monologue and broke down its meaning. We only got as far as the first page because there's so much in there and we loved spending as much time on a single word and idea as we wanted to ... there's so much time to explore, at this point, that we're taking full advantage of it. We first discussed the initial feelings and images from the line then we started researching and coming up with historical backing and logical conclusions. Right and left brain conversations.
"Heard her boast beast a roast beef eater, daughter
could spin span spick and spun the lowest form of
wheat straw into gold, raw into roar, golden lion
and lyonesse under the sea, dungeonesse under the
castle for bad mad sad adders and takers away.
Never marry a king size well beloved. Chop chip
pan chap finger chirrup chirrup cheer up off with
you're making no headway. Weeps seeps deeps her
pretty puffy cream cake hole in the heart operation.
Sees a little blackjack thingalingo with a long long
tale awinding. May day, she cries, may pole axed
me to help her. So I spin the sheaves shoves
shivers into golden guild and geld and if she can't
guessing game and safety match my name then I'll
take her no mistake no mister no missed her no
mist no miss no me no. Is it William Gwylliam
Guillaume? It is John Jack the ladder in your
stocking is it Joke? Is it Alexander Sandro Andrew
Drewsteignton? Mephistopheles Toffeenose
Tiffany's Timpany Timothy Mossycoat? No
't ain't, says I, no tainted meat me after the show
me what you've got. Then pointing her finger says
Tom tit tot! Tomtom tiny tot blue tit tit! Out of her
pinkle lippety loppety, out of her mouthtrap, out
came my secreted garden flower of my youth and
beauty and the beast is six six six o'clock in the
morning becomes electric stormy petrel bomb.
Shriek! shrink! shuck off to a shack, sick, soak,
seek a sleep slope slap of the dark to shelter skelter
away, a wail a whirl a world away.
Slit slat slut. That bitch a botch an itch in my
shoulder blood. Bitch botch itch. Slat itch slit
botch. Itch slut bitch slit."
I'm not going to share all the discoveries publicly, but just know that in that bit of loveliness there's talk of Arthur and Guinnevere and a country below the sea, betrayal, cranky Rumplestiltskin, vaginas, castration, newborn and dead babies, the antichrist, hospital terrors and a healthy dose of types of food and what you can do with said food. So much fun to play with, my friends.
When we were done, Lisa said, "Was that as good for you as it was for me?"
And I said, "Totally, dudarina."
She and I are going to meet weekly until we feel absolutely satisfied with everything ... what's wonderful about this type of language is that we can think one way on one day and then wake up the next day and have a brand new discovery and idea. It's the type of stuff that we can totally geek out on and have way too much fun putting our heads in books and studying.
If you'd like to contribute any thoughts on the language and the play, please feel free ... I'll take everything into my discussions with Lisa and we'll add it to this amazing time of learning and, for me, relearning ... I've taken so much time away from the script ... it's been almost ten years ... that talking with Lisa has provided tons of new insight.
(Posted by Rebecca Zellar)
Friday, July 20, 2007
And-a-One! And-a-Two!
I'm going to audition to lead the crowd in a rousing rendition of "Take Me Out to the Ballgame" at the September 22nd Cubs game against the Pirates. Holy Cow, friends. I'm very excited.I'll be arriving at Wrigley Field next Friday and will audition at 10am. I'm excited just to get a chance to do this.
I registered a couple of weeks ago and, in a limited amount of words, had to describe why I felt I was the Ultimate Cubs Fan. I didn't have a lot of room to write but I touched upon the fact that I think Ronnie and Pat are amazing radio announcers. Pat's a poet and is able to paint the action for the listeners' imagination. I mentioned that I've been cheering on the Cubs since I was a wee thing. Mentioned that I like leading people with enthusiasm and that I have a theatre company here in town.
According to the website at http://www.cubs.com:
"The winner will be the individual who complies with the Official Rules and, in the opinion of Cubs, displays the best combination of creativity, talent, singing ability, loyalty to the Cubs, passion for the team and for "Take Me Out to the Ballgame," leadership skill and who embodies the spirit of being a Cubs fan. Semi-finalists will be chosen based on these criteria and on the quality of the essay submitted with their application. Public voting on semi-finalists and finalists will be conducted online. ...All performances will be videotaped and the best ones will be posted and voted on by the fans here at cubs.com."
So, GreyZelda supporters, it looks like you may be called upon to help this gal out. I'll let you know what happens after the audition. My goodness gracious.
Go Cubs!!!!!!!!!!!!
Rebecca
Friday, July 13, 2007
Spinning our Wheels in the Orbit of Ego
Update: I'm going to try to get Chris to write his thoughts on this, as well, because I'm not the only mouthpiece for GreyZelda - he's got his own ideas and some differ greatly with mine. I'll see if I can encourage him. He's the writer in the family after all. RZ
The Chicago theatre scene is alive with hundreds of theatres lifting their voices in inspiration, but are we really be heard? Or are the voices getting lost in the noise?
So many start-up companies ... our theatre company started up in the same way ... Chris and I had a vision we shared. He got me, I got him, so we thought, "Hey! Let's start a theatre company because we feel we can do what we do better ourselves then with another group of people who will argue with our vision, therefore our ideas would be sacrificed to another's lesser idea. We work hard and we know we push ourselves hard. " We've had people join us as members who work with us show by show and we're slowly growing, but we share a lot of our collaborators with other theatre companies our size who do similar work as us. Chris and I double our work load because we can't seem to find collaborators who are as passionate as we are at making GreyZelda a successful creation and who only want to focus on our theatre company. I think a lot of our peers have the same problem.
I believe that there are other theatre companies around our size that share the same vision, but we refuse to start a dialogue. I feel the fear just sitting here typing. I want to do it my way. I don't know if I'll like your way. Creativity is such a fragile egg. By starting a dialogue, I'm going to have to speak with someone who might disagree with me. That's scary to an artist. We want to create our warm caves of creative growth. But there are so many caves out there right now and in each of those caves are a handful of collaborators thinking that they know how to do it better than me and maybe they do, maybe they don't. As the Desiderata states there are always those lesser and greater than me. Why do I gag myself from opening myself up to a new possibility? To something bigger and greater than me and mine.
What I'd really like is to be able to have our company absorb with other companies and we could become a SUPER COMPANY. I'm currently working for a company who did just that. I'm talking about my day-job here. They wanted to become bigger so they purchased smaller staffing companies. The company I initially started working for in January has now become something new and all of a sudden, we have new employees and more business opportunities. The company I'm working for now is looking to purchase more small staffing companies in the Chicago market to become bigger and better. Being on the non-profit circuit and dealing with creative egos makes that idea a little tricky. I've started tentative conversations with other theatre companies about this very thing, but it always comes back to the egos and how we can't quite give our initial vision up nor are we willing to compromise. There's a fear. Everyone wants to be in charge. So, we just keep trudging along, competing with each other, and mourning the fact that our audiences aren't bigger, the critics aren't coming, the money's too tight, blah blah blah. We want to build a tribe but have a hard time inviting others or approaching others to see if they'd like us to offer our talents up. Everyone wants to be in the driver's seat.
If we morphed together, like The Blob, say .... who knows what we could accomplish?
But, like weeds, new, teeny-tiny theatre companies keep cropping up in Chicago's fertile creative grounds ... I'm not saying that's a bad thing, but I speak to a lot of peers in the storefront theatre world of Chicago and I think .... we all want the same thing .... why don't we just try working together and pooling our resources like most normal businesses? Why do we all continue to isolate ourselves from each other?
I'd welcome any thoughts on this, blogging friends.
RZ
The Chicago theatre scene is alive with hundreds of theatres lifting their voices in inspiration, but are we really be heard? Or are the voices getting lost in the noise?
So many start-up companies ... our theatre company started up in the same way ... Chris and I had a vision we shared. He got me, I got him, so we thought, "Hey! Let's start a theatre company because we feel we can do what we do better ourselves then with another group of people who will argue with our vision, therefore our ideas would be sacrificed to another's lesser idea. We work hard and we know we push ourselves hard. " We've had people join us as members who work with us show by show and we're slowly growing, but we share a lot of our collaborators with other theatre companies our size who do similar work as us. Chris and I double our work load because we can't seem to find collaborators who are as passionate as we are at making GreyZelda a successful creation and who only want to focus on our theatre company. I think a lot of our peers have the same problem.
I believe that there are other theatre companies around our size that share the same vision, but we refuse to start a dialogue. I feel the fear just sitting here typing. I want to do it my way. I don't know if I'll like your way. Creativity is such a fragile egg. By starting a dialogue, I'm going to have to speak with someone who might disagree with me. That's scary to an artist. We want to create our warm caves of creative growth. But there are so many caves out there right now and in each of those caves are a handful of collaborators thinking that they know how to do it better than me and maybe they do, maybe they don't. As the Desiderata states there are always those lesser and greater than me. Why do I gag myself from opening myself up to a new possibility? To something bigger and greater than me and mine.
What I'd really like is to be able to have our company absorb with other companies and we could become a SUPER COMPANY. I'm currently working for a company who did just that. I'm talking about my day-job here. They wanted to become bigger so they purchased smaller staffing companies. The company I initially started working for in January has now become something new and all of a sudden, we have new employees and more business opportunities. The company I'm working for now is looking to purchase more small staffing companies in the Chicago market to become bigger and better. Being on the non-profit circuit and dealing with creative egos makes that idea a little tricky. I've started tentative conversations with other theatre companies about this very thing, but it always comes back to the egos and how we can't quite give our initial vision up nor are we willing to compromise. There's a fear. Everyone wants to be in charge. So, we just keep trudging along, competing with each other, and mourning the fact that our audiences aren't bigger, the critics aren't coming, the money's too tight, blah blah blah. We want to build a tribe but have a hard time inviting others or approaching others to see if they'd like us to offer our talents up. Everyone wants to be in the driver's seat.
If we morphed together, like The Blob, say .... who knows what we could accomplish?
But, like weeds, new, teeny-tiny theatre companies keep cropping up in Chicago's fertile creative grounds ... I'm not saying that's a bad thing, but I speak to a lot of peers in the storefront theatre world of Chicago and I think .... we all want the same thing .... why don't we just try working together and pooling our resources like most normal businesses? Why do we all continue to isolate ourselves from each other?
I'd welcome any thoughts on this, blogging friends.
RZ
Tuesday, July 03, 2007
A Delight, An Instruction, A Consolation
I found the following speech over on Malachy Walsh's site who is a writer in LA, originally from New York. He found this over at Crowded Fire's BANTER.
Prepared text of June 17, 2007, Stanford Commencement address by Dana Gioia, chairman of the National Endowment for the Arts
"Good morning.
Thank you, President Hennessy.
It is a great honor to be asked to give the Commencement address at my alma mater. Although I have two degrees from Stanford, I still feel a bit like an interloper on this exquisitely beautiful campus. A person never really escapes his or her childhood.
At heart I'm still a working-class kid—half Italian, half Mexican—from L.A., or more precisely from Hawthorne, a city that most of this audience knows only as the setting of Quentin Tarantino's Pulp Fiction and Jackie Brown—two films that capture the ineffable charm of my hometown.
Today is Father's Day, so I hope you will indulge me for beginning on a personal note. I am the first person in my family ever to attend college, and I owe my education to my father, who sacrificed nearly everything to give his four children the best education possible.
My dad had a fairly hard life. He never spoke English until he went to school. He barely survived a plane crash in World War II. He worked hard, but never had much success, except with his family.
When I was about 12, my dad told me that he hoped I would go to Stanford, a place I had never heard of. For him, Stanford represented every success he had missed yet wanted for his children. He would be proud of me today—no matter how dull my speech.
On the other hand, I may be fortunate that my mother isn't here. It isn't Mother's Day, so I can be honest. I loved her dearly, but she could be a challenge. For example, when she learned I had been nominated to be chairman of the National Endowment for the Arts, she phoned and said, "Don't think I'm impressed."
I know that there was a bit of controversy when my name was announced as the graduation speaker. A few students were especially concerned that I lacked celebrity status. It seemed I wasn't famous enough. I couldn't agree more. As I have often told my wife and children, "I'm simply not famous enough."
And that—in a more general and less personal sense—is the subject I want to address today, the fact that we live in a culture that barely acknowledges and rarely celebrates the arts or artists.
There is an experiment I'd love to conduct. I'd like to survey a cross-section of Americans and ask them how many active NBA players, Major League Baseball players, and American Idol finalists they can name.
Then I'd ask them how many living American poets, playwrights, painters, sculptors, architects, classical musicians, conductors, and composers they can name.
I'd even like to ask how many living American scientists or social thinkers they can name.
Fifty years ago, I suspect that along with Mickey Mantle, Willie Mays, and Sandy Koufax, most Americans could have named, at the very least, Robert Frost, Carl Sandburg, Arthur Miller, Thornton Wilder, Georgia O'Keeffe, Leonard Bernstein, Leontyne Price, and Frank Lloyd Wright. Not to mention scientists and thinkers like Linus Pauling, Jonas Salk, Rachel Carson, Margaret Mead, and especially Dr. Alfred Kinsey.
I don't think that Americans were smarter then, but American culture was. Even the mass media placed a greater emphasis on presenting a broad range of human achievement.
I grew up mostly among immigrants, many of whom never learned to speak English. But at night watching TV variety programs like the Ed Sullivan Show or the Perry Como Music Hall, I saw—along with comedians, popular singers, and movie stars—classical musicians like Jascha Heifetz and Arthur Rubinstein, opera singers like Robert Merrill and Anna Moffo, and jazz greats like Duke Ellington and Louis Armstrong captivate an audience of millions with their art.
The same was even true of literature. I first encountered Robert Frost, John Steinbeck, Lillian Hellman, and James Baldwin on general interest TV shows. All of these people were famous to the average American—because the culture considered them important.
Today no working-class or immigrant kid would encounter that range of arts and ideas in the popular culture. Almost everything in our national culture, even the news, has been reduced to entertainment, or altogether eliminated.
The loss of recognition for artists, thinkers, and scientists has impoverished our culture in innumerable ways, but let me mention one. When virtually all of a culture's celebrated figures are in sports or entertainment, how few possible role models we offer the young.
There are so many other ways to lead a successful and meaningful life that are not denominated by money or fame. Adult life begins in a child's imagination, and we've relinquished that imagination to the marketplace.
Of course, I'm not forgetting that politicians can also be famous, but it is interesting how our political process grows more like the entertainment industry each year. When a successful guest appearance on the Colbert Report becomes more important than passing legislation, democracy gets scary. No wonder Hollywood considers politics "show business for ugly people."
Everything now is entertainment. And the purpose of this omnipresent commercial entertainment is to sell us something. American culture has mostly become one vast infomercial.
I have a reccurring nightmare. I am in Rome visiting the Sistine Chapel. I look up at Michelangelo's incomparable fresco of the "Creation of Man." I see God stretching out his arm to touch the reclining Adam's finger. And then I notice in the other hand Adam is holding a Diet Pepsi.
When was the last time you have seen a featured guest on David Letterman or Jay Leno who isn't trying to sell you something? A new movie, a new TV show, a new book, or a new vote?
Don't get me wrong. I love entertainment, and I love the free market. I have a Stanford MBA and spent 15 years in the food industry. I adore my big-screen TV. The productivity and efficiency of the free market is beyond dispute. It has created a society of unprecedented prosperity.
But we must remember that the marketplace does only one thing—it puts a price on everything.
The role of culture, however, must go beyond economics. It is not focused on the price of things, but on their value. And, above all, culture should tell us what is beyond price, including what does not belong in the marketplace. A culture should also provide some cogent view of the good life beyond mass accumulation. In this respect, our culture is failing us.
There is only one social force in America potentially large and strong enough to counterbalance this profit-driven commercialization of cultural values, our educational system, especially public education. Traditionally, education has been one thing that our nation has agreed cannot be left entirely to the marketplace—but made mandatory and freely available to everyone.
At 56, I am just old enough to remember a time when every public high school in this country had a music program with choir and band, usually a jazz band, too, sometimes even orchestra. And every high school offered a drama program, sometimes with dance instruction. And there were writing opportunities in the school paper and literary magazine, as well as studio art training.
I am sorry to say that these programs are no longer widely available to the new generation of Americans. This once visionary and democratic system has been almost entirely dismantled by well-meaning but myopic school boards, county commissioners, and state officials, with the federal government largely indifferent to the issue. Art became an expendable luxury, and 50 million students have paid the price. Today a child's access to arts education is largely a function of his or her parents' income.
In a time of social progress and economic prosperity, why have we experienced this colossal cultural and political decline? There are several reasons, but I must risk offending many friends and colleagues by saying that surely artists and intellectuals are partly to blame. Most American artists, intellectuals, and academics have lost their ability to converse with the rest of society. We have become wonderfully expert in talking to one another, but we have become almost invisible and inaudible in the general culture.
This mutual estrangement has had enormous cultural, social, and political consequences. America needs its artists and intellectuals, and they need to reestablish their rightful place in the general culture. If we could reopen the conversation between our best minds and the broader public, the results would not only transform society but also artistic and intellectual life.
There is no better place to start this rapprochement than in arts education. How do we explain to the larger society the benefits of this civic investment when they have been convinced that the purpose of arts education is mostly to produce more artists—hardly a compelling argument to either the average taxpayer or financially strapped school board?
We need to create a new national consensus. The purpose of arts education is not to produce more artists, though that is a byproduct. The real purpose of arts education is to create complete human beings capable of leading successful and productive lives in a free society.
This is not happening now in American schools. Even if you forget the larger catastrophe that only 70 percent of American kids now graduate from high school, what are we to make of a public education system whose highest goal seems to be producing minimally competent entry-level workers?
The situation is a cultural and educational disaster, but it also has huge and alarming economic consequences. If the United States is to compete effectively with the rest of the world in the new global marketplace, it is not going to succeed through cheap labor or cheap raw materials, nor even the free flow of capital or a streamlined industrial base. To compete successfully, this country needs continued creativity, ingenuity, and innovation.
It is hard to see those qualities thriving in a nation whose educational system ranks at the bottom of the developed world and has mostly eliminated the arts from the curriculum.
I have seen firsthand the enormous transformative power of the arts—in the lives of individuals, in communities, and even society at large.
Marcus Aurelius believed that the course of wisdom consisted of learning to trade easy pleasures for more complex and challenging ones. I worry about a culture that bit by bit trades off the challenging pleasures of art for the easy comforts of entertainment. And that is exactly what is happening—not just in the media, but in our schools and civic life.
Entertainment promises us a predictable pleasure—humor, thrills, emotional titillation, or even the odd delight of being vicariously terrified. It exploits and manipulates who we are rather than challenges us with a vision of who we might become. A child who spends a month mastering Halo or NBA Live on Xbox has not been awakened and transformed the way that child would be spending the time rehearsing a play or learning to draw.
If you don't believe me, you should read the statistical studies that are now coming out about American civic participation. Our country is dividing into two distinct behavioral groups. One group spends most of its free time sitting at home as passive consumers of electronic entertainment. Even family communication is breaking down as members increasingly spend their time alone, staring at their individual screens.
The other group also uses and enjoys the new technology, but these individuals balance it with a broader range of activities. They go out—to exercise, play sports, volunteer and do charity work at about three times the level of the first group. By every measure they are vastly more active and socially engaged than the first group.
What is the defining difference between passive and active citizens? Curiously, it isn't income, geography, or even education. It depends on whether or not they read for pleasure and participate in the arts. These cultural activities seem to awaken a heightened sense of individual awareness and social responsibility.
Why do these issues matter to you? This is the culture you are about to enter. For the last few years you have had the privilege of being at one of the world's greatest universities—not only studying, but being a part of a community that takes arts and ideas seriously. Even if you spent most of your free time watching Grey's Anatomy, playing Guitar Hero, or Facebooking your friends, those important endeavors were balanced by courses and conversations about literature, politics, technology, and ideas.
Distinguished graduates, your support system is about to end. And you now face the choice of whether you want to be a passive consumer or an active citizen. Do you want to watch the world on a screen or live in it so meaningfully that you change it?
That's no easy task, so don't forget what the arts provide.
Art is an irreplaceable way of understanding and expressing the world—equal to but distinct from scientific and conceptual methods. Art addresses us in the fullness of our being—simultaneously speaking to our intellect, emotions, intuition, imagination, memory, and physical senses. There are some truths about life that can be expressed only as stories, or songs, or images.
Art delights, instructs, consoles. It educates our emotions. And it remembers. As Robert Frost once said about poetry, "It is a way of remembering that which it would impoverish us to forget." Art awakens, enlarges, refines, and restores our humanity. You don't outgrow art. The same work can mean something different at each stage of your life. A good book changes as you change.
My own art is poetry, though my current daily life sometimes makes me forget that. So let me end my remarks with a short poem appropriate to the occasion.
[Part III of Gioia's poem "Autumn Inaugural"]
Praise to the rituals that celebrate change,
old robes worn for new beginnings,
solemn protocol where the mutable soul,
surrounded by ancient experience,
grows young in the imagination's white dress.
Because it is not the rituals we honor
but our trust in what they signify, these rites
that honor us as witnesses—whether to watch
lovers swear loyalty in a careless world or a newborn washed with water and oil.
So praise to innocence—impulsive and evergreen—
and let the old be touched by youth's
wayward astonishment at learning something new,
and dream of a future so fitting and so just
that our desire will bring it into being.
Congratulations to the Class of 2007."
Prepared text of June 17, 2007, Stanford Commencement address by Dana Gioia, chairman of the National Endowment for the Arts
"Good morning.
Thank you, President Hennessy.
It is a great honor to be asked to give the Commencement address at my alma mater. Although I have two degrees from Stanford, I still feel a bit like an interloper on this exquisitely beautiful campus. A person never really escapes his or her childhood.
At heart I'm still a working-class kid—half Italian, half Mexican—from L.A., or more precisely from Hawthorne, a city that most of this audience knows only as the setting of Quentin Tarantino's Pulp Fiction and Jackie Brown—two films that capture the ineffable charm of my hometown.
Today is Father's Day, so I hope you will indulge me for beginning on a personal note. I am the first person in my family ever to attend college, and I owe my education to my father, who sacrificed nearly everything to give his four children the best education possible.
My dad had a fairly hard life. He never spoke English until he went to school. He barely survived a plane crash in World War II. He worked hard, but never had much success, except with his family.
When I was about 12, my dad told me that he hoped I would go to Stanford, a place I had never heard of. For him, Stanford represented every success he had missed yet wanted for his children. He would be proud of me today—no matter how dull my speech.
On the other hand, I may be fortunate that my mother isn't here. It isn't Mother's Day, so I can be honest. I loved her dearly, but she could be a challenge. For example, when she learned I had been nominated to be chairman of the National Endowment for the Arts, she phoned and said, "Don't think I'm impressed."
I know that there was a bit of controversy when my name was announced as the graduation speaker. A few students were especially concerned that I lacked celebrity status. It seemed I wasn't famous enough. I couldn't agree more. As I have often told my wife and children, "I'm simply not famous enough."
And that—in a more general and less personal sense—is the subject I want to address today, the fact that we live in a culture that barely acknowledges and rarely celebrates the arts or artists.
There is an experiment I'd love to conduct. I'd like to survey a cross-section of Americans and ask them how many active NBA players, Major League Baseball players, and American Idol finalists they can name.
Then I'd ask them how many living American poets, playwrights, painters, sculptors, architects, classical musicians, conductors, and composers they can name.
I'd even like to ask how many living American scientists or social thinkers they can name.
Fifty years ago, I suspect that along with Mickey Mantle, Willie Mays, and Sandy Koufax, most Americans could have named, at the very least, Robert Frost, Carl Sandburg, Arthur Miller, Thornton Wilder, Georgia O'Keeffe, Leonard Bernstein, Leontyne Price, and Frank Lloyd Wright. Not to mention scientists and thinkers like Linus Pauling, Jonas Salk, Rachel Carson, Margaret Mead, and especially Dr. Alfred Kinsey.
I don't think that Americans were smarter then, but American culture was. Even the mass media placed a greater emphasis on presenting a broad range of human achievement.
I grew up mostly among immigrants, many of whom never learned to speak English. But at night watching TV variety programs like the Ed Sullivan Show or the Perry Como Music Hall, I saw—along with comedians, popular singers, and movie stars—classical musicians like Jascha Heifetz and Arthur Rubinstein, opera singers like Robert Merrill and Anna Moffo, and jazz greats like Duke Ellington and Louis Armstrong captivate an audience of millions with their art.
The same was even true of literature. I first encountered Robert Frost, John Steinbeck, Lillian Hellman, and James Baldwin on general interest TV shows. All of these people were famous to the average American—because the culture considered them important.
Today no working-class or immigrant kid would encounter that range of arts and ideas in the popular culture. Almost everything in our national culture, even the news, has been reduced to entertainment, or altogether eliminated.
The loss of recognition for artists, thinkers, and scientists has impoverished our culture in innumerable ways, but let me mention one. When virtually all of a culture's celebrated figures are in sports or entertainment, how few possible role models we offer the young.
There are so many other ways to lead a successful and meaningful life that are not denominated by money or fame. Adult life begins in a child's imagination, and we've relinquished that imagination to the marketplace.
Of course, I'm not forgetting that politicians can also be famous, but it is interesting how our political process grows more like the entertainment industry each year. When a successful guest appearance on the Colbert Report becomes more important than passing legislation, democracy gets scary. No wonder Hollywood considers politics "show business for ugly people."
Everything now is entertainment. And the purpose of this omnipresent commercial entertainment is to sell us something. American culture has mostly become one vast infomercial.
I have a reccurring nightmare. I am in Rome visiting the Sistine Chapel. I look up at Michelangelo's incomparable fresco of the "Creation of Man." I see God stretching out his arm to touch the reclining Adam's finger. And then I notice in the other hand Adam is holding a Diet Pepsi.
When was the last time you have seen a featured guest on David Letterman or Jay Leno who isn't trying to sell you something? A new movie, a new TV show, a new book, or a new vote?
Don't get me wrong. I love entertainment, and I love the free market. I have a Stanford MBA and spent 15 years in the food industry. I adore my big-screen TV. The productivity and efficiency of the free market is beyond dispute. It has created a society of unprecedented prosperity.
But we must remember that the marketplace does only one thing—it puts a price on everything.
The role of culture, however, must go beyond economics. It is not focused on the price of things, but on their value. And, above all, culture should tell us what is beyond price, including what does not belong in the marketplace. A culture should also provide some cogent view of the good life beyond mass accumulation. In this respect, our culture is failing us.
There is only one social force in America potentially large and strong enough to counterbalance this profit-driven commercialization of cultural values, our educational system, especially public education. Traditionally, education has been one thing that our nation has agreed cannot be left entirely to the marketplace—but made mandatory and freely available to everyone.
At 56, I am just old enough to remember a time when every public high school in this country had a music program with choir and band, usually a jazz band, too, sometimes even orchestra. And every high school offered a drama program, sometimes with dance instruction. And there were writing opportunities in the school paper and literary magazine, as well as studio art training.
I am sorry to say that these programs are no longer widely available to the new generation of Americans. This once visionary and democratic system has been almost entirely dismantled by well-meaning but myopic school boards, county commissioners, and state officials, with the federal government largely indifferent to the issue. Art became an expendable luxury, and 50 million students have paid the price. Today a child's access to arts education is largely a function of his or her parents' income.
In a time of social progress and economic prosperity, why have we experienced this colossal cultural and political decline? There are several reasons, but I must risk offending many friends and colleagues by saying that surely artists and intellectuals are partly to blame. Most American artists, intellectuals, and academics have lost their ability to converse with the rest of society. We have become wonderfully expert in talking to one another, but we have become almost invisible and inaudible in the general culture.
This mutual estrangement has had enormous cultural, social, and political consequences. America needs its artists and intellectuals, and they need to reestablish their rightful place in the general culture. If we could reopen the conversation between our best minds and the broader public, the results would not only transform society but also artistic and intellectual life.
There is no better place to start this rapprochement than in arts education. How do we explain to the larger society the benefits of this civic investment when they have been convinced that the purpose of arts education is mostly to produce more artists—hardly a compelling argument to either the average taxpayer or financially strapped school board?
We need to create a new national consensus. The purpose of arts education is not to produce more artists, though that is a byproduct. The real purpose of arts education is to create complete human beings capable of leading successful and productive lives in a free society.
This is not happening now in American schools. Even if you forget the larger catastrophe that only 70 percent of American kids now graduate from high school, what are we to make of a public education system whose highest goal seems to be producing minimally competent entry-level workers?
The situation is a cultural and educational disaster, but it also has huge and alarming economic consequences. If the United States is to compete effectively with the rest of the world in the new global marketplace, it is not going to succeed through cheap labor or cheap raw materials, nor even the free flow of capital or a streamlined industrial base. To compete successfully, this country needs continued creativity, ingenuity, and innovation.
It is hard to see those qualities thriving in a nation whose educational system ranks at the bottom of the developed world and has mostly eliminated the arts from the curriculum.
I have seen firsthand the enormous transformative power of the arts—in the lives of individuals, in communities, and even society at large.
Marcus Aurelius believed that the course of wisdom consisted of learning to trade easy pleasures for more complex and challenging ones. I worry about a culture that bit by bit trades off the challenging pleasures of art for the easy comforts of entertainment. And that is exactly what is happening—not just in the media, but in our schools and civic life.
Entertainment promises us a predictable pleasure—humor, thrills, emotional titillation, or even the odd delight of being vicariously terrified. It exploits and manipulates who we are rather than challenges us with a vision of who we might become. A child who spends a month mastering Halo or NBA Live on Xbox has not been awakened and transformed the way that child would be spending the time rehearsing a play or learning to draw.
If you don't believe me, you should read the statistical studies that are now coming out about American civic participation. Our country is dividing into two distinct behavioral groups. One group spends most of its free time sitting at home as passive consumers of electronic entertainment. Even family communication is breaking down as members increasingly spend their time alone, staring at their individual screens.
The other group also uses and enjoys the new technology, but these individuals balance it with a broader range of activities. They go out—to exercise, play sports, volunteer and do charity work at about three times the level of the first group. By every measure they are vastly more active and socially engaged than the first group.
What is the defining difference between passive and active citizens? Curiously, it isn't income, geography, or even education. It depends on whether or not they read for pleasure and participate in the arts. These cultural activities seem to awaken a heightened sense of individual awareness and social responsibility.
Why do these issues matter to you? This is the culture you are about to enter. For the last few years you have had the privilege of being at one of the world's greatest universities—not only studying, but being a part of a community that takes arts and ideas seriously. Even if you spent most of your free time watching Grey's Anatomy, playing Guitar Hero, or Facebooking your friends, those important endeavors were balanced by courses and conversations about literature, politics, technology, and ideas.
Distinguished graduates, your support system is about to end. And you now face the choice of whether you want to be a passive consumer or an active citizen. Do you want to watch the world on a screen or live in it so meaningfully that you change it?
That's no easy task, so don't forget what the arts provide.
Art is an irreplaceable way of understanding and expressing the world—equal to but distinct from scientific and conceptual methods. Art addresses us in the fullness of our being—simultaneously speaking to our intellect, emotions, intuition, imagination, memory, and physical senses. There are some truths about life that can be expressed only as stories, or songs, or images.
Art delights, instructs, consoles. It educates our emotions. And it remembers. As Robert Frost once said about poetry, "It is a way of remembering that which it would impoverish us to forget." Art awakens, enlarges, refines, and restores our humanity. You don't outgrow art. The same work can mean something different at each stage of your life. A good book changes as you change.
My own art is poetry, though my current daily life sometimes makes me forget that. So let me end my remarks with a short poem appropriate to the occasion.
[Part III of Gioia's poem "Autumn Inaugural"]
Praise to the rituals that celebrate change,
old robes worn for new beginnings,
solemn protocol where the mutable soul,
surrounded by ancient experience,
grows young in the imagination's white dress.
Because it is not the rituals we honor
but our trust in what they signify, these rites
that honor us as witnesses—whether to watch
lovers swear loyalty in a careless world or a newborn washed with water and oil.
So praise to innocence—impulsive and evergreen—
and let the old be touched by youth's
wayward astonishment at learning something new,
and dream of a future so fitting and so just
that our desire will bring it into being.
Congratulations to the Class of 2007."
Monday, July 02, 2007
Cock-a-doodle-do you feel it?
We had our reading of The Skriker by Caryl Churchill this Sunday and it went very nicely. It's a hell of a script. It's not easy to breeze through. The actresses reading the Skriker, Josie and Lily did a great job wrapping their lips around the words and the story. I think and hope they walked away with a disturbed feeling, an injection of healthy brain food and a desire to speak in riddles.
I directed The Skriker when I was a senior at Michigan State University during the fall of 1998, so it's been almost 10 years since I've heard it outloud. A lot of the staging came rushing back to me ... I remembered my actors' deliveries and movements and silently gave them props again while I heard the new voices. To take on such a challenge and go down to the Underworld each night while taking classes, having other rehearsals, having college dramas, etc was a huge commitment and I'm so thankful that the people committed to the project back in that day. It was really hard, there were a lot of tears, a lot of discussions, a few arguments, a few cast replacements, a few friendships made and ended, but ... that time and the play has stuck with me. I'm elated to come back to the story again and the previous experience under my belt will really help me this time through as a director.
The Skriker could be directed a million different ways and still bring people salivating for more.
Listening to the actors read this time around, I was struck by how much tablework this play will require. Which is great because I could talk about this play until the cows come home. Each line can be discussed, researched and deciphered ... my actors will need to be willing to do their research, grab from their deepest emotional places, take huge risks and can't be afraid. This script is a lightning bolt that needs to be grasped with both hands and the actor needs to be able to take the charge of being a conductor for it. I'm happy that I've had close to ten years to obsess on the script because the actors will be able to use me as a resource, but they're going to need to embrace and make their own discoveries of the faerieworld and the ether as well. Or at least understand it and do their research of its history. Wolves, snow and 1066. New Orleans voodoo. American Gods and Ghosts. And once the tablework's done, we'll go to town and it'll be amazing.
I'm going to have an audition in the late Fall for performers. I'll be looking for underlying acting experience, but I'm going to allow the performers to show me their individual talents in five minutes ... so, if you're a fire-breather, poi spinner, stilt walker, knife thrower, gymnast, dancer, aerial artist, performance artist, musician, vocalist, etc ... I'm interested in collaborating with you on this project. You'll get to come play in the Underworld and Urban Nightmare. You know that "Additional/Special Skills" section of your resume? That's going to be what I look at first when you hand over your headshot and resume.
We had the reading for A View from the Bridge last week and it's really interesting to compare the straight scripts and their accessibility to the actor. Miller really lays it out and makes it easy for the readers ... the stage directions are firmly there, beats laid out, identifiable characters, well-written exposition. The Skriker's the polar opposite. There are historical faerie creatures that not many people have heard of (Rawheadandbloodybones, Black Annis, Jenny Greenteeth, etc.) and they're present during the scenes but are given very little direction from the playwright. Churchill sets the scene with as few words as possible, which allows the recreators of the script a lot of freedom to build their own exposition, their own through-stories, their own blocking.
Next season is going to be a lot of fun and I'm glad that we're giving the theatre company enought time to do its backwork because both plays are going to require a good deal of it. I'm going to write a little later about how our producing/directing is going to change and the steps we're going to follow moving forward with our theatre company.
We're expecting a lot out of our collaborators ... we always have, but we've raised the bar again. I like standing on my tippy-toes and reaching for that bar. I hope that those who want to work with us will feel the same.
"The Skriker" will be performed in Spring 2008. "A View from the Bridge" will be performed in January 2008 at Stage Left Theatre.
I directed The Skriker when I was a senior at Michigan State University during the fall of 1998, so it's been almost 10 years since I've heard it outloud. A lot of the staging came rushing back to me ... I remembered my actors' deliveries and movements and silently gave them props again while I heard the new voices. To take on such a challenge and go down to the Underworld each night while taking classes, having other rehearsals, having college dramas, etc was a huge commitment and I'm so thankful that the people committed to the project back in that day. It was really hard, there were a lot of tears, a lot of discussions, a few arguments, a few cast replacements, a few friendships made and ended, but ... that time and the play has stuck with me. I'm elated to come back to the story again and the previous experience under my belt will really help me this time through as a director.
The Skriker could be directed a million different ways and still bring people salivating for more.
Listening to the actors read this time around, I was struck by how much tablework this play will require. Which is great because I could talk about this play until the cows come home. Each line can be discussed, researched and deciphered ... my actors will need to be willing to do their research, grab from their deepest emotional places, take huge risks and can't be afraid. This script is a lightning bolt that needs to be grasped with both hands and the actor needs to be able to take the charge of being a conductor for it. I'm happy that I've had close to ten years to obsess on the script because the actors will be able to use me as a resource, but they're going to need to embrace and make their own discoveries of the faerieworld and the ether as well. Or at least understand it and do their research of its history. Wolves, snow and 1066. New Orleans voodoo. American Gods and Ghosts. And once the tablework's done, we'll go to town and it'll be amazing.
I'm going to have an audition in the late Fall for performers. I'll be looking for underlying acting experience, but I'm going to allow the performers to show me their individual talents in five minutes ... so, if you're a fire-breather, poi spinner, stilt walker, knife thrower, gymnast, dancer, aerial artist, performance artist, musician, vocalist, etc ... I'm interested in collaborating with you on this project. You'll get to come play in the Underworld and Urban Nightmare. You know that "Additional/Special Skills" section of your resume? That's going to be what I look at first when you hand over your headshot and resume.
We had the reading for A View from the Bridge last week and it's really interesting to compare the straight scripts and their accessibility to the actor. Miller really lays it out and makes it easy for the readers ... the stage directions are firmly there, beats laid out, identifiable characters, well-written exposition. The Skriker's the polar opposite. There are historical faerie creatures that not many people have heard of (Rawheadandbloodybones, Black Annis, Jenny Greenteeth, etc.) and they're present during the scenes but are given very little direction from the playwright. Churchill sets the scene with as few words as possible, which allows the recreators of the script a lot of freedom to build their own exposition, their own through-stories, their own blocking.
Next season is going to be a lot of fun and I'm glad that we're giving the theatre company enought time to do its backwork because both plays are going to require a good deal of it. I'm going to write a little later about how our producing/directing is going to change and the steps we're going to follow moving forward with our theatre company.
We're expecting a lot out of our collaborators ... we always have, but we've raised the bar again. I like standing on my tippy-toes and reaching for that bar. I hope that those who want to work with us will feel the same.
"The Skriker" will be performed in Spring 2008. "A View from the Bridge" will be performed in January 2008 at Stage Left Theatre.
Tuesday, June 26, 2007
Ahem, Ahem, A Meme, A Meme
Paul Rekk tagged me for a meme about my area of expertise ... in answer to the questions of "What's a meme anyway?" I would have to say that maybe it stands for Me Me for these things allow to elucidate on myself for a while. Me, myself and I have always enjoyed myself.
Moving on.
The purpose of this meme is to get people talking about their passion in life. It’s called the 5/5 meme. Five questions, then pass it to five people. “Expertise” could be your profession, hobby, or area of intense interest.
Name your area of expertise/interest:
DIY Theatre. Directing.
How did you become interested in it?
My mother sensed I had a bit of a bug when I went nuts for her record of "The Phantom of the Opera". I always liked to act and sing along to most things and was known to pretend to be a Solid Gold dancer when I was around 5. I would jump up on the stairs, pretending they were my stage ... I always loved the Muppet Show, as well, giving me a taste of vaudeville done with pigs, frogs, weirdos and chickens. Kinda like the peeps I hang out with now.
When I first went to college, I was convinced I would become a Tony/Oscar award winning actress until I took my first directing class and the paradigm shifted. My teacher, Frank Rutledge of Michigan State University, really argued points home to me. One of his key phrases was "Either that's the biggest piece of shit I've ever seen .... or you're a genious."
How did you learn to do it?
By doing and observing those who do it. I learned to read when I was three and loved reading outloud, varying the characters, messing with my voice. I adapted plays from Archie comic books. I wrote plays for my siblings to perform for the family. I sang along to musicals. Saw the musicals and acted them out in my bedroom. I was in my first "official" community theatre production when I was in sixth grade where I played Gladys Herdman in "The Best Christmas Pageant Ever" and continued being in 2-3 plays a year until I graduated high school. Went to Stephens College for acting, went to Hillsdale College for theatre, went to MSU for theatre where I acted in lots of things and started directing. Went to West Virginia University for a little over a year for graduate acting. Dropped out, thank god, learning that you can only learn so much on the university circuit. Moved to New Orleans, joined a little theatre company down there, decided I could do something better. Learned that living the real life is the best teacher out there. Moved to Chicago, acted a little, decided to start my own theatre company with my husband and have been doing it ever since. Just do it. Only way to get your feet wet.
Who has been your biggest influence?
My husband, Chris Riter. He and I met at West Virginia University and he's taught me how to live. If it were up to my folks, I'd still be in school learning which made me incredibly unhappy after a while. Chris has always understood my way of thinking, encourages me to try whatever I might like to try, challenges me, argues with me, inspires me ... he writes, acts, directs, knows how to put up lights and build sets and is incredibly handsome while doing everything. He's truly a renaissance man and an artistic soul mate.
And anybody who ever told me "No."
What would you teach people about it?
You can only learn so much from me ... go do it. Live the life. Get a business degree along side your theatre degree while you're still in school. Try to avoid grad school, if you can help it. Get as much experience as you can and don't stop believing. Go to museums. Go to rock and roll shows. Go to the cirkus. Meet artists outside your circle. Work a day job or twelve. You make your own way and don't let anyone tell you otherwise. Always be happy. If theatre and the artform don't give you pleasure, it's ok to stop. It'll find you again and you it, if that's in the cards.
I'm now going to pick five people to join in the Do-Re-Meme: Lisa Wilson, The Olde Gentleman, Strezo, Jay Raskolnikov and Dave Lykins.
Moving on.
The purpose of this meme is to get people talking about their passion in life. It’s called the 5/5 meme. Five questions, then pass it to five people. “Expertise” could be your profession, hobby, or area of intense interest.
Name your area of expertise/interest:
DIY Theatre. Directing.
How did you become interested in it?
My mother sensed I had a bit of a bug when I went nuts for her record of "The Phantom of the Opera". I always liked to act and sing along to most things and was known to pretend to be a Solid Gold dancer when I was around 5. I would jump up on the stairs, pretending they were my stage ... I always loved the Muppet Show, as well, giving me a taste of vaudeville done with pigs, frogs, weirdos and chickens. Kinda like the peeps I hang out with now.
When I first went to college, I was convinced I would become a Tony/Oscar award winning actress until I took my first directing class and the paradigm shifted. My teacher, Frank Rutledge of Michigan State University, really argued points home to me. One of his key phrases was "Either that's the biggest piece of shit I've ever seen .... or you're a genious."
How did you learn to do it?
By doing and observing those who do it. I learned to read when I was three and loved reading outloud, varying the characters, messing with my voice. I adapted plays from Archie comic books. I wrote plays for my siblings to perform for the family. I sang along to musicals. Saw the musicals and acted them out in my bedroom. I was in my first "official" community theatre production when I was in sixth grade where I played Gladys Herdman in "The Best Christmas Pageant Ever" and continued being in 2-3 plays a year until I graduated high school. Went to Stephens College for acting, went to Hillsdale College for theatre, went to MSU for theatre where I acted in lots of things and started directing. Went to West Virginia University for a little over a year for graduate acting. Dropped out, thank god, learning that you can only learn so much on the university circuit. Moved to New Orleans, joined a little theatre company down there, decided I could do something better. Learned that living the real life is the best teacher out there. Moved to Chicago, acted a little, decided to start my own theatre company with my husband and have been doing it ever since. Just do it. Only way to get your feet wet.
Who has been your biggest influence?
My husband, Chris Riter. He and I met at West Virginia University and he's taught me how to live. If it were up to my folks, I'd still be in school learning which made me incredibly unhappy after a while. Chris has always understood my way of thinking, encourages me to try whatever I might like to try, challenges me, argues with me, inspires me ... he writes, acts, directs, knows how to put up lights and build sets and is incredibly handsome while doing everything. He's truly a renaissance man and an artistic soul mate.
And anybody who ever told me "No."
What would you teach people about it?
You can only learn so much from me ... go do it. Live the life. Get a business degree along side your theatre degree while you're still in school. Try to avoid grad school, if you can help it. Get as much experience as you can and don't stop believing. Go to museums. Go to rock and roll shows. Go to the cirkus. Meet artists outside your circle. Work a day job or twelve. You make your own way and don't let anyone tell you otherwise. Always be happy. If theatre and the artform don't give you pleasure, it's ok to stop. It'll find you again and you it, if that's in the cards.
I'm now going to pick five people to join in the Do-Re-Meme: Lisa Wilson, The Olde Gentleman, Strezo, Jay Raskolnikov and Dave Lykins.
Monday, June 25, 2007
The Skriker Reading
Good day, dear people.
Our reading of A View from the Bridge went beautifully (read about it here) and we're excited to announce our second reading of The Skriker by Caryl Churchill.
The reading, which, again, will be ultra casual, will be taking place this Saturday, June 30, 2007 at 5pm at the Casa GreyZelda. We'll be supplying drink, food and good company.
Our readers:
The Skriker: Lisa Wilson
Josie: Tiffany Ross
Lily: Patrycja Rynduch
If you'd like to attend, please give us a call at 773-427-1935 and we'll be able to discuss locale and any questions you might have.
Take care,
Rebecca
Our reading of A View from the Bridge went beautifully (read about it here) and we're excited to announce our second reading of The Skriker by Caryl Churchill.
The reading, which, again, will be ultra casual, will be taking place this Saturday, June 30, 2007 at 5pm at the Casa GreyZelda. We'll be supplying drink, food and good company.
Our readers:
The Skriker: Lisa Wilson
Josie: Tiffany Ross
Lily: Patrycja Rynduch
If you'd like to attend, please give us a call at 773-427-1935 and we'll be able to discuss locale and any questions you might have.
Take care,
Rebecca
Thursday, June 21, 2007
A View from the Bridge Reading
Heigh ho, friends -
We're going to be having a super casual reading of Arthur Miller's A View from the Bridge at the Casa GreyZelda this Saturday, June 23rd primarily to hear the play outloud and also to touch base with some of our GreyZelda peeps. We'll be serving some Italian tapas, wine, and Scotch in honor of the Carbone family in Brooklyn, NY.
The reading's going to start around 5pm. If you'd like to attend, we'd love to see you. Please give us a call at 773-427-1935 for location or send a message if we can expect you.
Auditions will happen during the early fall, so please stay tuned for announcements. The role of Eddie has already been cast with one of our favorite actors, Aris.
Our Readers:
Aris Tompoulis - Eddie
Nicolle Van Dyke - Beatrice
Morgan Manasa - Catherine
Gene Van Dyke - Alfieri
Ben Veatch - Marco
Tom Gordon - Rudolpho
Aaron Preusse - Louis, cop
We've got a lovely patio to hang out on, weather permitting. We look forward to seeing you!
We're going to be having a super casual reading of Arthur Miller's A View from the Bridge at the Casa GreyZelda this Saturday, June 23rd primarily to hear the play outloud and also to touch base with some of our GreyZelda peeps. We'll be serving some Italian tapas, wine, and Scotch in honor of the Carbone family in Brooklyn, NY.
The reading's going to start around 5pm. If you'd like to attend, we'd love to see you. Please give us a call at 773-427-1935 for location or send a message if we can expect you.
Auditions will happen during the early fall, so please stay tuned for announcements. The role of Eddie has already been cast with one of our favorite actors, Aris.
Our Readers:
Aris Tompoulis - Eddie
Nicolle Van Dyke - Beatrice
Morgan Manasa - Catherine
Gene Van Dyke - Alfieri
Ben Veatch - Marco
Tom Gordon - Rudolpho
Aaron Preusse - Louis, cop
We've got a lovely patio to hang out on, weather permitting. We look forward to seeing you!
Wednesday, June 20, 2007
We Belong to Something Greater than Ourselves
Did you see the space shuttle and space station flying by in tandem above the Chicago sky last night between 9:31 and 9:36pm? Chris and I stepped out to the patio, faced Northwest and saw the two lights approaching and continue moving East Southeast. It was really cool.
It reminded us of how absolutely small we are here on Earth. We waved to the astronauts but I have a distinct feeling we weren't seen. We waved anyway and talked about the view those chaps up there were seeing ... clear night ... they could probably see our landmass and say, "Hey, Cap'n, we're over Chicago right now ... there's the Great Lakes!"
There's a lot of fatalistic conversation in the theatrical blogosphere as of late and, I admit, I take part of it on a daily basis and ask myself the eternal questions of Why and How. The discussions help firm up my own philosophies about our chosen artform.
.... and then I see a celestial occurance ... reminding me that the stars whose light we're seeing out there may well have died thousands or millions of years ago .... and I ask myself the questions all over again ... thinking about the galaxy always sends my brain a-whirlin' on an unanswerable, unfathomable trip ... and I remind myself of our own little microcosms, our own bubbles and it's these little things that keep us all moving.
___________________________________________________
Tony Adams over at http://www.jayraskolnikov.blogspot.com/ posed the "Why do you do it and how does that shape your work?" question ... Here was my reply:
"My motivations have changed from year to year. I'm going to try to be point blank.
I create theatre because I feel I don't have another artistic medium to use that I'm able to do well and this is the one that makes the most sense to me, that I consistently get personal satisfaction out of at the end of the day. My grandfather is an artist and architect and uses his hands to create a picture. I like to paint pictures on stage using people, words and collaboration. I'm happy just sitting home with a glass of wine reading a play out loud. I've been doing that since I could read. (Not drinking wine, of course ...)
My father didn't want me to go to school for theatre and always discouraged my growing fascination with it, so that was a motivation to continue with theatre to prove him wrong because theatre was always a part of what I've wanted to do. I haven't spoken to my father since I graduated high school and he's never seen my work. My mother pointed out that a lot of the plays GreyZelda has chosen to do involves a character that is looking for acceptance against many odds and will do the worst or have the worst done to them just to see if others will abandon them or stay true.
A friend said that she thinks I'm motivated by "obstacles" and "anger". If someone tells me "NO", I get up in arms and, instead of doing nothing, I create theatre.
I like the fire.
I want to communicate. I want to prove my point. I love that spark of inspiration. I'm addicted to it. I love seeing an artistic plan come together. I love the synergy of an amazing cast and collaboration. I love people and I love it when people leave the theatre and the process feeling different then when they came in ... preferably feeling good, but I like reaction either way.
And, I think, like a lot of theatre folks, I love the sense of family that comes with creating theatre."
_______________________________________________
_______________________________________________
Now, to leave you all with a quote from a movie that always gives me a little charge ...
Ellie Arroway: I... had an experience... I can't prove it, I can't even explain it, but everything that I know as a human being, everything that I am tells me that it was real! I was given something wonderful, something that changed me forever... A vision of the universe, that tells us, undeniably, how tiny, and insignificant and how... rare, and precious we all are! A vision that tells us that we belong to something that is greater then ourselves, that we are *not*, that none of us are alone! I wish... I... could share that... I wish, that everybody, if only for one... moment, could feel... that awe, and humility, and hope. But... That continues to be my wish.
Friday, June 15, 2007
I think Elvis said it best
This is why he's King after all ...
"A little less conversation, a little more action please
All this aggravation ain't satisfactioning me
A little more bite and a little less bark
A little less fight and a little more spark
Close your mouth and open up your heart and baby satisfy me
Satisfy me baby
Baby close your eyes and listen to the music
Drifting through a summer breeze
It's a groovy night and I can show you how to use it
Come along with me and put your mind at ease
A little less conversation, a little more action please
All this aggravation ain't satisfactioning me
A little more bite and a little less bark
A little less fight and a little more spark
Close your mouth and open up your heart and baby satisfy me
Satisfy me baby
Come on baby I'm tired of talking
Grab your coat and let's start walking
Come on, come on Come on, come on Come on, come on
Don't procrastinate, don't articulate
Girl it's getting late, gettin' upset waitin' around
A little less conversation, a little more action please
All this aggravation ain't satisfactioning me
A little more bite and a little less bark
A little less fight and a little more spark
Close your mouth and open up your heart and baby satisfy me
Satisfy me baby"
I love the proactive and dissonent conversations on the web about the state of theatre on comment boxes and blogs. I love participating in them, as well, but what I really want to do is take some action the only way I know how especially when I'm sensing too much conversation going down and not enough proactive resolution .... All I can do is to make good theatre and make it great, to quote Rob Kozlowski, a local playwright in town. I can't care about anybody else and what they'll say about my efforts. I can't compare myself to anybody else and I can't listen to those who choose to put GreyZelda in the all-consuming box. All I can do is what I love to do, what I'm trained to do and what I must do.
If people want to come to our theatricals, I will welcome them with open arms and a smile. If they don't, that's fine, too. I know the rest of our company feels that way. We will march to our individual drum, we will dance to our type of music and if others want to be there to witness our cadence, to witness our whirling dervish, then we will open the circle to say "Thank you and welcome." We want the people to be there, but you have to be ok when they're not. The artist must love the process enough to trust that the people will be there for the final stage if the passion is there. The audience will always sense that and feel that spark of magick for that's what the audience craves. That's what I crave, anyway, and I'm an audience member.
Word of mouth is powerful once that magick is witnessed. The bloggers are starting to dialogue beautifully on Chicago's theatre scene and it inspires me. The people I've linked to the right of these words are, indeed, doing it.
RebeccaZ
"A little less conversation, a little more action please
All this aggravation ain't satisfactioning me
A little more bite and a little less bark
A little less fight and a little more spark
Close your mouth and open up your heart and baby satisfy me
Satisfy me baby
Baby close your eyes and listen to the music
Drifting through a summer breeze
It's a groovy night and I can show you how to use it
Come along with me and put your mind at ease
A little less conversation, a little more action please
All this aggravation ain't satisfactioning me
A little more bite and a little less bark
A little less fight and a little more spark
Close your mouth and open up your heart and baby satisfy me
Satisfy me baby
Come on baby I'm tired of talking
Grab your coat and let's start walking
Come on, come on Come on, come on Come on, come on
Don't procrastinate, don't articulate
Girl it's getting late, gettin' upset waitin' around
A little less conversation, a little more action please
All this aggravation ain't satisfactioning me
A little more bite and a little less bark
A little less fight and a little more spark
Close your mouth and open up your heart and baby satisfy me
Satisfy me baby"
I love the proactive and dissonent conversations on the web about the state of theatre on comment boxes and blogs. I love participating in them, as well, but what I really want to do is take some action the only way I know how especially when I'm sensing too much conversation going down and not enough proactive resolution .... All I can do is to make good theatre and make it great, to quote Rob Kozlowski, a local playwright in town. I can't care about anybody else and what they'll say about my efforts. I can't compare myself to anybody else and I can't listen to those who choose to put GreyZelda in the all-consuming box. All I can do is what I love to do, what I'm trained to do and what I must do.
If people want to come to our theatricals, I will welcome them with open arms and a smile. If they don't, that's fine, too. I know the rest of our company feels that way. We will march to our individual drum, we will dance to our type of music and if others want to be there to witness our cadence, to witness our whirling dervish, then we will open the circle to say "Thank you and welcome." We want the people to be there, but you have to be ok when they're not. The artist must love the process enough to trust that the people will be there for the final stage if the passion is there. The audience will always sense that and feel that spark of magick for that's what the audience craves. That's what I crave, anyway, and I'm an audience member.
Word of mouth is powerful once that magick is witnessed. The bloggers are starting to dialogue beautifully on Chicago's theatre scene and it inspires me. The people I've linked to the right of these words are, indeed, doing it.
RebeccaZ
Tuesday, June 12, 2007
True Colors
Rebecca's going to the True Colors Tour show tonight at the Auditorium Theatre and writes:
"Freedom. Liberty. Music. Voices lifted in song. Color. Truth. Illumination. Dignity.
Heaven."
GreyZelda agrees.
To read more, please visit www.myspace.com/greyzelda
"Freedom. Liberty. Music. Voices lifted in song. Color. Truth. Illumination. Dignity.
Heaven."
GreyZelda agrees.
To read more, please visit www.myspace.com/greyzelda
Tuesday, June 05, 2007
Nostalgia in Eight
Originally posted by Rebecca on Lady Crow's myspace.
Don Hall tagged me on the "Name Eight Things About Yourself that No One Knows" blogger meme, so here I am a-playin'. I've done this before but the narcissist in me insists I play again and name eight more things. Mirror, mirror on the wall ... you can go back through some of my older blogs to find the original where I discuss Blow Pops and farms. I think this one's going to be about creativity and my childhood ...
The rules are as follows:
(I ended up breaking the rules because I posted 10 random facts about myself. My self-absorption knows no bounds, Billy!!!!!)
Bloggers must post these rules and provide eight random facts about themselves. In the post, the tagged blogger tags eight other bloggers and notify them that they have been tagged.
1. Sometimes, when I secretly think about GreyZelda, I imagine myself as a warrior who has carried a flag through the deserts, streams and prairies, all in the name of my queen, GreyZelda. Which is maybe why Chris and I picked the names "Lady Crow" and "Sir Mulch". I feel I've carried this flag - call it "creativity" if you will - for years and I refuse to set it down. If I set it down, all will be lost. I like imagining I'm an epic heroine on a quest as I travel through the mundane trials of day to day existence. I'm Roland, Atreyu and Alice rolled into one with a splash of Valkyrie in my own mind. Or certifiable ... take your pick.
2. My stepdad's a farmer, as well as a retired educator. When I was little, he used to find creatures to bring home to me while he was plowing and combining ... I had pet salamanders, luna moths, field mice and a shot woodchuck to keep me company every so often. If we could, we would let them go, but sometimes they would die ... like those moths and shot woodchucks. My grandpa would also bring home cut-off squirrel tails which I liked to stick in my pants and pretend that they were my tails. (I didn't really roam around with that shot woodchuck but I looked at it a lot and felt really bad that it had been killed.)
3. I really love bugs. I collected them when as a kid ... I would roam around, collecting butterflies, stink bugs and praying mantises and stick them in left over baby food jars ... again, they all died because I had no idea how to sustain them being that I was six (I poked holes in the lid, but that was about it. Bugs are super cool. Roaches really freak me out, though.
4. I used to create plays to put on in our backyard after the family would get together for summer holidays and birthdays ... the most popular one and most requested by the family (aka my parents and grandparents) was entitled "Cowboy Joe" which starred my 7 year old brother, Andrew, as the title character. I was the narrator - around 12 - a beautiful Western belle with a parasol and bonnet. My sister, who was around two, would be the villain with a ridiculously long black cape. She often started crying during the performances, but Andrew and I continued on. Very monologue based, "Cowboy Joe" was. Good stuff. Quality theatre. We used our swingset as the primary backdrop, so when Alex, the two year old villain, would make her entrance, I had her come down the slide. We were also known for our rendition of Andrew Lloyd Webber's "The Phantom of the Opera" where I played Christine and Andrew was the Phantom. Alex didn't really enjoy acting in our rendition and as soon as she heard the opening theme she would run - crying, as per usual -away in terror. This one was done in the living room because we used pillows as our primary stage accessories.
5. I once made my Barbies have a Boob size competition where Ken had to pick the Barbie with the best breasts. Thank you, media, for warping my young mind. My Strawberry Shortcake dolls were often considered slaves of Barbie because they were short with bulbous heads and colored legs. I also always hated it when other girls weren't nice to their Barbie dolls and never brushed their hair or colored on them with markers and who often just played with them naked without their clothes on. I tried not to let them play with my Barbies if I could help it. My Barbies often would get naked based on the situation and the soaps I watched that day with my mom but I didn't make them naked all the time. Yes, I also made them "hump". Heh heh.
6. I briefly was able to listen to Poison's "Look What the Cat Dragged In" when I was in fourth grade, but my real dad made the tape disappear because he thought it was offensive. I kind of think that maybe he thought Poison was a girl band, initially, based on the tape cover and when he actually heard the songs, he was most offended. We also almost walked out of "Back to the Future" when it was first in movie theatres because he thought there was too much swearing. Thank God, they went back in time to the fifties. Sheesh.
7. I was nuts about Archie comicbooks and often came up with puppet shows based upon the story lines. It truly is a Betty vs. Veronica world.
8. I'll always take the villains over the good guys any day. Unless you're an anti-hero, like Roland. I often stalked around my backyard imagining I was a Disney villainess. They always had great makeup and outfits. Melificent from Sleeping Beauty? Kick ass.
9. I liked it when my dads (I had two) would hit flyballs to me. I loved playing catch. I had a great arm. Maybe I still do, but I don't really play baseball or softball any more. There's nothing like the smell of a leather baseball glove. I liked kicking up dirt on a diamond on a summer day and sitting in dugouts with the team.
10. If I could go back in time to any one day and place, I would always pick my farmhouse in Hudson, around 10 years old maybe, on a summer day, playing catch with Andrew, writing a play to perform after dinner of barbecue chicken with pink lemonade and biscuits with my family and grandparents (who are no longer alive), playing with my black cat, Amos, feeding the bunnies, and helping in the garden. No question.
I'm now going to choose eight folks to play this fun game ... if you've done it before, go on and do it again.
Ladyflash *M*, The Olde Gentleman, Von, Crow's Feet, Red Dragon, Ed French, Lizarinny and Pryce.
Don Hall tagged me on the "Name Eight Things About Yourself that No One Knows" blogger meme, so here I am a-playin'. I've done this before but the narcissist in me insists I play again and name eight more things. Mirror, mirror on the wall ... you can go back through some of my older blogs to find the original where I discuss Blow Pops and farms. I think this one's going to be about creativity and my childhood ...
The rules are as follows:
(I ended up breaking the rules because I posted 10 random facts about myself. My self-absorption knows no bounds, Billy!!!!!)
Bloggers must post these rules and provide eight random facts about themselves. In the post, the tagged blogger tags eight other bloggers and notify them that they have been tagged.
1. Sometimes, when I secretly think about GreyZelda, I imagine myself as a warrior who has carried a flag through the deserts, streams and prairies, all in the name of my queen, GreyZelda. Which is maybe why Chris and I picked the names "Lady Crow" and "Sir Mulch". I feel I've carried this flag - call it "creativity" if you will - for years and I refuse to set it down. If I set it down, all will be lost. I like imagining I'm an epic heroine on a quest as I travel through the mundane trials of day to day existence. I'm Roland, Atreyu and Alice rolled into one with a splash of Valkyrie in my own mind. Or certifiable ... take your pick.
2. My stepdad's a farmer, as well as a retired educator. When I was little, he used to find creatures to bring home to me while he was plowing and combining ... I had pet salamanders, luna moths, field mice and a shot woodchuck to keep me company every so often. If we could, we would let them go, but sometimes they would die ... like those moths and shot woodchucks. My grandpa would also bring home cut-off squirrel tails which I liked to stick in my pants and pretend that they were my tails. (I didn't really roam around with that shot woodchuck but I looked at it a lot and felt really bad that it had been killed.)
3. I really love bugs. I collected them when as a kid ... I would roam around, collecting butterflies, stink bugs and praying mantises and stick them in left over baby food jars ... again, they all died because I had no idea how to sustain them being that I was six (I poked holes in the lid, but that was about it. Bugs are super cool. Roaches really freak me out, though.
4. I used to create plays to put on in our backyard after the family would get together for summer holidays and birthdays ... the most popular one and most requested by the family (aka my parents and grandparents) was entitled "Cowboy Joe" which starred my 7 year old brother, Andrew, as the title character. I was the narrator - around 12 - a beautiful Western belle with a parasol and bonnet. My sister, who was around two, would be the villain with a ridiculously long black cape. She often started crying during the performances, but Andrew and I continued on. Very monologue based, "Cowboy Joe" was. Good stuff. Quality theatre. We used our swingset as the primary backdrop, so when Alex, the two year old villain, would make her entrance, I had her come down the slide. We were also known for our rendition of Andrew Lloyd Webber's "The Phantom of the Opera" where I played Christine and Andrew was the Phantom. Alex didn't really enjoy acting in our rendition and as soon as she heard the opening theme she would run - crying, as per usual -away in terror. This one was done in the living room because we used pillows as our primary stage accessories.
5. I once made my Barbies have a Boob size competition where Ken had to pick the Barbie with the best breasts. Thank you, media, for warping my young mind. My Strawberry Shortcake dolls were often considered slaves of Barbie because they were short with bulbous heads and colored legs. I also always hated it when other girls weren't nice to their Barbie dolls and never brushed their hair or colored on them with markers and who often just played with them naked without their clothes on. I tried not to let them play with my Barbies if I could help it. My Barbies often would get naked based on the situation and the soaps I watched that day with my mom but I didn't make them naked all the time. Yes, I also made them "hump". Heh heh.
6. I briefly was able to listen to Poison's "Look What the Cat Dragged In" when I was in fourth grade, but my real dad made the tape disappear because he thought it was offensive. I kind of think that maybe he thought Poison was a girl band, initially, based on the tape cover and when he actually heard the songs, he was most offended. We also almost walked out of "Back to the Future" when it was first in movie theatres because he thought there was too much swearing. Thank God, they went back in time to the fifties. Sheesh.
7. I was nuts about Archie comicbooks and often came up with puppet shows based upon the story lines. It truly is a Betty vs. Veronica world.
8. I'll always take the villains over the good guys any day. Unless you're an anti-hero, like Roland. I often stalked around my backyard imagining I was a Disney villainess. They always had great makeup and outfits. Melificent from Sleeping Beauty? Kick ass.
9. I liked it when my dads (I had two) would hit flyballs to me. I loved playing catch. I had a great arm. Maybe I still do, but I don't really play baseball or softball any more. There's nothing like the smell of a leather baseball glove. I liked kicking up dirt on a diamond on a summer day and sitting in dugouts with the team.
10. If I could go back in time to any one day and place, I would always pick my farmhouse in Hudson, around 10 years old maybe, on a summer day, playing catch with Andrew, writing a play to perform after dinner of barbecue chicken with pink lemonade and biscuits with my family and grandparents (who are no longer alive), playing with my black cat, Amos, feeding the bunnies, and helping in the garden. No question.
I'm now going to choose eight folks to play this fun game ... if you've done it before, go on and do it again.
Ladyflash *M*, The Olde Gentleman, Von, Crow's Feet, Red Dragon, Ed French, Lizarinny and Pryce.
Thursday, May 31, 2007
GreyZelda Announces 2008 Season
Hello, friends -
Here it is!!!!
The third show will probably be The Mystery of Irma Vep or an original piece written by a new playwright. We've yet to decide for sure. So, if you're a playwright and you'd like to submit a play for consideration, please let us know!
GreyZelda Announces 2008 Season
FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE: May 31, 2007
CHICAGO - The GreyZelda Theatre Group, NFP would like to formally announce our 2008 season that we look forward to sharing with Chicagoland audiences. The season will revolve around collaborations with multi-media artists nationwide and will continue GreyZelda's commitment to great literature and experimentation.
A View from the Bridge
by Arthur Miller
January 3 - Feb 2, 2008
Stage Left Theatre
Directed by Chris Riter
A View from the Bridge tells the story of Eddie Carbone, a Brooklyn longshoreman, whose desire for his adult niece leads to disaster in his community and home. GreyZelda will work with a New York filmmaker to move Miller's play into our new millenium, giving the work a fresh spin and making it immediately recognizable to audiences becoming more and more obsessed with the media's parasitic view of tragedies.
The Skriker
by Caryl Churchill
Spring 2008
Directed by Rebecca Zellar
The play tells the story of the Skriker, "a shapeshifter and death portent", as it pursues and stalks two young women in London. Churchill's text is rich, moving and made for those who love difficult and challenging works. This will be Zellar's second time directing the piece and she will be incorporating the talents of dancers, gymnasts, aerial artists, etc to create an underworld seeping into the present day.
Third Show - TBA
Fall/Winter 2008
Here it is!!!!
The third show will probably be The Mystery of Irma Vep or an original piece written by a new playwright. We've yet to decide for sure. So, if you're a playwright and you'd like to submit a play for consideration, please let us know!
GreyZelda Announces 2008 Season
FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE: May 31, 2007
CHICAGO - The GreyZelda Theatre Group, NFP would like to formally announce our 2008 season that we look forward to sharing with Chicagoland audiences. The season will revolve around collaborations with multi-media artists nationwide and will continue GreyZelda's commitment to great literature and experimentation.
A View from the Bridge
by Arthur Miller
January 3 - Feb 2, 2008
Stage Left Theatre
Directed by Chris Riter
A View from the Bridge tells the story of Eddie Carbone, a Brooklyn longshoreman, whose desire for his adult niece leads to disaster in his community and home. GreyZelda will work with a New York filmmaker to move Miller's play into our new millenium, giving the work a fresh spin and making it immediately recognizable to audiences becoming more and more obsessed with the media's parasitic view of tragedies.
The Skriker
by Caryl Churchill
Spring 2008
Directed by Rebecca Zellar
The play tells the story of the Skriker, "a shapeshifter and death portent", as it pursues and stalks two young women in London. Churchill's text is rich, moving and made for those who love difficult and challenging works. This will be Zellar's second time directing the piece and she will be incorporating the talents of dancers, gymnasts, aerial artists, etc to create an underworld seeping into the present day.
Third Show - TBA
Fall/Winter 2008
Tuesday, May 08, 2007
Broadway in Chicago Emerging Theatre Award!
I am not at all surprised to announce that the first ever winner of the Broadway in Chicago Emerging Theatre Award goes to everyone's favorite theatre company, The House!
Congratulations, you wacky people you.
The criteria for the award was ... your theatre company had to have been in existence for at least three years and not more than ten. The company had to be a member of the League and also had to provide certain information including budget, marketing info, history, mission, letters of recommendation and what the company would do with the money.
GreyZelda was nominated for the award and member Lisa Wilson and musician Kristen Strezo wrote wonderful letters for their consideration but our l'il theatre company wasn't moved forward into the final eight that members could vote on. I had a distinct feeling after dropping our little packet off for consideration that The House would win. I wish I could have placed a bet. The final eight were:
BARREL OF MONKEYS
COLLABORACTION
SILK ROAD THEATRE PROJECT
THE GIFT THEATRE
THE HOUSE THEATRE OF CHICAGO
THE HYPOCRITES
THE UTOPIAN THEATRE ASYLUM (T.U.T.A.)
TIMELINE THEATRE COMPANY
We're League members for all the little good that's done our small theatre company (each year the renewal comes up and each year we wonder if it's worth it - it still hasn't proved to be that great on the small theatre end, but we're patient people however pessimistic we might appear) and were able to vote for the winner. We voted for the Gift Theatre. They're located in our new neighborhood and seem to have an interesting body of work to their name. They start with a 'G'. Ah, well. Maybe next year!
What's amazing though, folks, is ... when we found out that we wouldn't be a part of the final eight and thought that particular window was closed ... a financial door was opened from a private donor allowing us to move forward with our next show! Wonderfully wonderful. Season annoucnment coming any minute!
Congratulations, you wacky people you.
The criteria for the award was ... your theatre company had to have been in existence for at least three years and not more than ten. The company had to be a member of the League and also had to provide certain information including budget, marketing info, history, mission, letters of recommendation and what the company would do with the money.
GreyZelda was nominated for the award and member Lisa Wilson and musician Kristen Strezo wrote wonderful letters for their consideration but our l'il theatre company wasn't moved forward into the final eight that members could vote on. I had a distinct feeling after dropping our little packet off for consideration that The House would win. I wish I could have placed a bet. The final eight were:
BARREL OF MONKEYS
COLLABORACTION
SILK ROAD THEATRE PROJECT
THE GIFT THEATRE
THE HOUSE THEATRE OF CHICAGO
THE HYPOCRITES
THE UTOPIAN THEATRE ASYLUM (T.U.T.A.)
TIMELINE THEATRE COMPANY
We're League members for all the little good that's done our small theatre company (each year the renewal comes up and each year we wonder if it's worth it - it still hasn't proved to be that great on the small theatre end, but we're patient people however pessimistic we might appear) and were able to vote for the winner. We voted for the Gift Theatre. They're located in our new neighborhood and seem to have an interesting body of work to their name. They start with a 'G'. Ah, well. Maybe next year!
What's amazing though, folks, is ... when we found out that we wouldn't be a part of the final eight and thought that particular window was closed ... a financial door was opened from a private donor allowing us to move forward with our next show! Wonderfully wonderful. Season annoucnment coming any minute!
Thursday, May 03, 2007
We're Almost There - You Wanna Go for a Ride?
Hi, GreyZeldaland creatures ...
We're almost there. The season is on the tip of our tongues ... one show is 99.9% confirmed and the other needs to solidify itself in our coartistic directors' guts ... Chris and I are the coartistic directors if you're new to the program.
Pretty cool. Major announcements are coming soon with a few press releases to follow.
----------------
To all those who have ever worked or never worked with GreyZelda and were kinda-sorta intrigued and wondered what we're all about ... now's a time to really come on forward and say, "Hey! I'm interested and available! Here's what I do - how can I be of assistance?" You can write to us at greyzeldatheatre@yahoo.com and we can start talking about this and that ... we do like to talk, yes indeed. And, we'd like to get to know you if you'd like to get to know us.
Be well and stay tuned.
Rebecca
We're almost there. The season is on the tip of our tongues ... one show is 99.9% confirmed and the other needs to solidify itself in our coartistic directors' guts ... Chris and I are the coartistic directors if you're new to the program.
Pretty cool. Major announcements are coming soon with a few press releases to follow.
----------------
To all those who have ever worked or never worked with GreyZelda and were kinda-sorta intrigued and wondered what we're all about ... now's a time to really come on forward and say, "Hey! I'm interested and available! Here's what I do - how can I be of assistance?" You can write to us at greyzeldatheatre@yahoo.com and we can start talking about this and that ... we do like to talk, yes indeed. And, we'd like to get to know you if you'd like to get to know us.
Be well and stay tuned.
Rebecca
Wednesday, April 04, 2007
Myspace Land
Hello, Reader(s) ... (We hope there are more than one out there, but you never know ...)
As a reminder, please check out our respective myspace pages for all of the new updates:
www.myspace.com/greyzelda
www.myspace.com/mulchcrow
(Rebecca's Lady Crow site)
www.myspace.com/chrisriter
Hope you're doing well!
Rebecca
As a reminder, please check out our respective myspace pages for all of the new updates:
www.myspace.com/greyzelda
www.myspace.com/mulchcrow
(Rebecca's Lady Crow site)
www.myspace.com/chrisriter
Hope you're doing well!
Rebecca
Monday, March 05, 2007
A GreyZelda Update
Where are we these days ... 2005-2006 were crazy, ambitious years for us as a theatre company ... we tried to move into a couple different directions and tried to have a few chaps join us. I think that was the main goal ... increase in people, which would help us increase in size and support.
And now, to be quite honest, it's back to us ... Lady Crow and Sir Mulch with the GreyZelda seed hovering over our heads waiting for what's next in her fate. Kristen and Robert, over a dinner at El Tapico and a very real, very precious conversation, once said, "It's always going to be just you." And we, vehement in our hope, said that we were wanting more ... more people, more ideas, more, more, more. More didn't work out. And it's back to us. And "us" is real.Some of you may or may not know that Sir Mulch and I are the main producers of all the shows you've seen with GreyZelda. GreyZelda owes us thousands of dollars at this point. We don't come from rich backgrounds. We don't have donors. I think the biggest donation we've received, up to this point, was $200.00 from my family and that included the cost of their tickets. We're incredibly appreciative of everything people have done monetarily to help us. But, Sir Mulch and I are the executive producers, at this point. Which may explain to some of you out there why we get so damn irritable about bad reviews, bad professionalism and bad business in general. We're the producers, what the hell do you expect?
So, as the executive producers of GreyZelda ... our funds are tapped. Most of our paychecks have gone to GreyZelda and our rehearsal space. We work hard for our money, honeys. Sir Mulch and I made a concerted decision to be selfish for once and we've been doing things for ourselves since we closed The Scarlet Letter in September. We'll be back to producing within this 2007 year, I hope, but we're taking a long needed break.
We're going to move to a new apartment soon ... this new apartment will have plenty of space and plenty of comfort. We've outgrown our apartment that we've lived in since we initially moved to Chicago. It's packed to its gills. We've stayed in this little place so we could afford to produce theatre, y'see. Each year when it's come time to renew the lease, we've looked at each other, considered moving, but decided that it wasn't quite time because we had a season to produce. But, finally ... we're ready for this next step and we're really excited about it.
There are plenty of ideas brewing around in our brains, but we need to take care of ourselves first. When we're ready to give everything a go again, we'll collect our trusted collaborators around us and will open our doors to new collaborators. We're going to be stricter in our selection process however. If you're an actor, designer, etc., be prepared. If you're the type that can't get hired for a basic general office clerk job and exit that job with a good reference ... you probably won't get cast or asked aboard ...and if you don't know what I mean when I say this ... well, we don't want you.
So, that's where we are. I hope you're all doing well. I miss you. Sir Mulch misses you. We'll be back when we're ready.
Yours,
Lady Crow
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