It's All About Who You Know..

Acutally...it's all about who knows you. And so, the publicity push for my concert begins. I've been putting hints in people's heads for some time now, but three days ago I sent out a mass email to 200 people in my acquaintence and yesterday I sent a press release to every newspaper and radio/tv station in town. I even sent a couple of personal emails to critics I know in hopes that they will be interested in coming and maybe writing a little something about what they see.

This is the part I have trouble reconciling with myself. I make work because I want people to see it, but I hate promoting myself. I feel somewhat selfish and overbearing when I encourage people to come to my concerts. It's ridiculous because it's the only way to get an audience, but I want people to come of their own volition, not just because they feel strong-armed.

But I bite the bullet and do it. I should be proud of my work and running around screaming it from the rooftops. In fact, if anyone reading this post is in the San Diego area, or has friends here, they should come see it too. It's December 17th at 7pm in North Park. A place called the Arts & Entertainment Center at 30th and University. I'll be there, John will be there, my three dancers will be there. As for the rest of the audience, it's anyone's guess.

It's a good show. I'm particularly proud of my second video, the one John and I just finished. It's well put together and I think Zach did an incredible job with the music. So much so that I want to hire him again for another video. We should make this a regular family affair.

So that's the show right now. Both videos are done, I'm still tinkering with some changes in "They'll Devour Me Too" but it's basically done, My six-year-old other and I have finished our duet, it's just the massive cleaning we're looking at now, and my solo is mentally understood, it just needs time in a physical space. I'm feeling confident in having a show prepared when I walk in the door on the 17th. Now it's just getting people there. I guess I'm not feeling too terrible about that either.

In other news, I'm almost done with my Christmas shopping. That is to say that my family is done and I have an idea in my head about what I want to do for John. I'm sending out a few cards this year but not nearly as many as other years. I must get working on those but hope to get them done over the weekend.

Leaving for Virginia is coming much quicker than I want it to. I've grown to like living at home (imagine that) and the thought of getting on one more airplane and thrusting myself into an unfamiliar place is a bit nerve-wracking. I've got all of my score materials, however, so at least I'm getting a jump on that.

Life is rushing along and me with it.

Hungary

This is me on the Danube. The bridge is called the Lanchid, which means "Chain Bridge." It's built by the same man who built the chain bridge across the Thames (Tierney, I think), and it is an incredible sight to behold. It was my first destination when I woke up on my first morning in Budapest. John left for the Opera Hotel and meetings about the Lizst project (which is why we were there in the first place) and I walked towards the Danube, which is called the Duna in Hungarian. The bridge connects Pest, the more modern, flat and cosmopolitan half of the city, with Buda, a Medieval, hilly section with a giant hill at the base of the bridge that holds Buda Palace, the Fisherman's Bastion and other incredible sights. It's one of the most beautiful skylines in all of Europe and I was blown backwards by it as I walked towards the sunny, dew-filled riverfront. It was the beginning of great things in terms of my little video. What an inspiring way to start.

This, on the other hand, is the last night we were there. John had more time off than we thought he would. It allowed us to shoot all over the city, take in the House of Terror (a chilling museum of the Soviet regime housed in the same building as the Nazi Party and, later, the Secret Police), wander through the Museum of Ethnography with its wonderful photo exhibit and beautiful national costumes, and see an opera at the most ornate opera house in which I've ever stepped foot. We saw "Figaro," which did not impress me as much as I'd hoped. The Cherubino was fantastic and the Susanna was a terrific actor, but the direction was stunted and the action often overplayed. It was an enjoyable evening nonetheless, and the Countess had a voice to die for.

It also allowed us to take our final evening and go to a local Balkan folk dance night at a youth center called Petofi Csarnok. It sits, monolithic, in the center of the city's woodland park, which is much like Central Park with a skating rink on a manmade lake and a big castle in the center, plus statuary everywhere you turn. We wandered through the darkened park to the Csarnok and were a bit dubious at first because the place seemed deserted. This was my only opportunity to shoot locals dancing so I was on the verge of being dissapointed until I got up my nerve to walk in the door and find the contact person I had been speaking with. He led me into a little dark room with a fantastic band and six young dancers who got together once a month to practice their dances while Pravo, the ensemble, played up a storm. They were dressed in everything from traditional dress to jeans and boots, and they pounded out the rhythms laughing while John and I shot. The director finally dragged me out on the floor as well, and John got footage of me doing some Balkan folk dancing. Something I never thought I'd do. The picture is before I was pulled onto the floor. The folk dancers are doing a fast circular dance and the band is jumping away in the back. I should folk dance all the time; it would be a great weight loss program. I've never been so tired and sore.

We shot some other locals too. This is a pic of John video taping a couple of Roma musicians in Vorosmarty square. We are standing right outside of Cafe Gerbaud, which is the most famous cafe in Budapest, known for its intense cafe culture. We had coffee and cake there later, but this morning we only had an hour before John ran off to do some location scouting. We came across these two, I dropped 200 forint (about a buck) into their hat, and they struck up a brilliant tune. My dancing to their playing is part of the opening to our video, which we titled "Utazo (The Traveler)."

This is John and I in front of the Fisherman's Bastion. This piece was built in the 19th century but looks much older. Right behind it is the Buda Hilton, which was built on some monestarial ruins. Sounds awful of them, but they've preserved much of the ruins in an outside area and you can walk through the walls and look at a statue of the more prominent monks. This may be my favorite view of the city, as the Bastion is right on the river and you can look across to Parliament and the Basilica rising up in Pest's flat landscape.

John and I had a terrific time. I would go back to Budapest in a heartbeat. The people were friendly, the coffee to die for and the scenery was heart wrenching. Hungary has a difficult history; much of the city of Budapest is new because it's been plundered so many times, sometimes by its own people. It's an interesting mix of Eastern and Western European ideals and, although the language is nearly impossible to speak and understand (I only conquered "Thank you," and for those who know me, you know that's not much), many young people and some older people speak enough English to get by. More popular is German, which can get you through the day nearly anywhere. Almost every restaurant had an English language menu, and absinthe is legal, though I never partook as I was dancing so much.

Click on the title of the post to go to my Flickr site. It has a bunch more pictures and descriptions. If you want to see the video, it's premiering at my concert on December 17th....yes, shameless plug, but that's why I journal on line anyway.

Happy Thanksgiving!

Just a brief note to say Happy Thanksgiving! Despite our travel day, I am very happy to be home and now getting ready for the holidays and my length of time away.

The picture is sunset over the Danube, with Buda castle and the Lanchid looming in the back. What an incredibly beautiful, friendly city. I could go there again and again.

John and I are spending the holiday alone. I am making leg of lamb and made a pumpkin pie last night. It'll be great to celebrate in our home. I hope everyone is having as lovely a day as I am.

More after food and sleeping...

United Airlines Sucks! And, How to Feel Like a Foreign Criminal in your Own Country

So we just got back from Budapest. An amazing city and one of the most beautiful city centers I've ever experienced. The Danube cuts right through the middle and the bridge-lined riverfront displays gorgeous architecture after architecture. John and I shot almost four hours worth of footage which I will comment on later, especially my experience with Petofi Csarnok and Balkan Folk Dance Night. You can see photos at my Flickr site with long descriptions. Click on the title of this post and it will take you to Flickr.

The nadir of the trip was both travel days. We flew United/Lufthansa and it was torturous. Granted, we didn't make the reservations, they were made by the man in charge of the film for whom John was scouting. As soon as we got the reservations several weeks before we left, we got on the horn and tried to get seating reservations. We were told then and when we went on line (where we couldn't even bring up the reservation despite the fact that it was in our name) that no seat assignments would be available until the day of travel. The people on the phone told us that no overseas flight ever gives seat assignments before the day of, which is a total lie. This is the 6th time I've traveled to Europe and the first time I've gone to the airport having no idea where I was sitting.

So, on both trips, our seats ended up being the last seats on the plane. On the way back, our flight from Washington Dulles to San Diego, we couldn't even get aisle seats, so we were in the aisle and center of the last seat on the plane. This was not for lack of trying. Trying not to get discouraged, we dutifully called from Hungary, went on line, and tried to go to a ticket office in Budapest. John ended up calling the United States from our SIM-card enhanced cell phone and they told him the same thing - no seat assignments will be given until you are at the airport.

Okay...this is where I get really pissed. We showed up at the airport at 5:30 in the morning the day we traveled home, and got our seat assignments for all of the flights. Like I said, our flight from Dulles gave us the worst possible seats on the plane. I ask, "is there anything else available?" The agent says, "No, these are the last two available seats. All the rest have been reserved."

My next logical quesion, "How is it that they've been reserved? We've told that we couldn't get seat reservations until we checked in at the airport and that flight is more than 18 hours away. Are you telling me that everyone but us has already checked in for the flight 18 hours ahead of time?"

She says, "No, these seats have been reserved beforehand."

And so we get into a circular argument here about who is lying to whom? How could they all be reserved beforehand if you can't get seats until you show up at the airport? We were told this on every flight we checked in for - everyone but us seemed to reserve beforehand. How are we the only ones unable to do this? I shouldn't have to pay the same amount of money for a ticket and be shoved in the back by the restrooms. The legroom in the back is not as good either, so John was stuffed into a seat with his knees pressed against the seat in front of him. United did nothing to help us and even seemed to intimate that it was our fault that we had such bad seats.

The flight to San Diego was particularly frustrating when the flight attendant actually admitted that they didn't have enough meals for sale to feed the last five rows of the airplane. How is that possible? Because we're in the last five rows, we are not entitled to eat? United doesn't seem to think so.

In conclusion of my flight experience, I have to say, DO NOT FLY UNITED! They are a shabby excuse for an airline with terrible customer service and circular logic in their answers that brings up constant inconsistencies. I am completely dissatisfied in every way and would gladly pay more money for an airline that will treat me with respect. This isn't the first time I've had problems with them, but these are definitely the most heinous.

That being said...the other heinous part of traveling these days is customs and security. I was treated with kindness and respect by all of the security and customs officials in Hungary and Germany. We get back to the United States, however, and I am suddenly thrust into a long, slow line and treated like a criminal in my own country. Dulles has no organization whatsoever. After passing through immigration, we were thrown into a hall to recheck our baggage. There were people packed wall-to-wall and screaming at you to stay in line (what line?). We couldn't get to the recheck spot they screamed at us to go to without cutting around people who had already dropped off their bags, and we were screamed at by another agent wearing sunglasses (??) as we tried to give him our bag. At that point we waited over half an hour to get through two operating security tables with no line up to the front, everyone just shoving and squeezing through the crowds. TSA agents were screaming at us in some sort of half-English pidgin slang and shoving us into various lines as we got within spitting distance of the conveyor belts. People were crying and hyperventilating and I kept thinking that I had an easier time at customs when I flew into Mexico.

It's a hideous experience and a true equalizer as the ladies who lunch in their pearls and heels were in the same shoving, heaving, sweaty line as poor college students who spent the whole fall backpacking through Europe. All of us equally pissed off.

We got to the gate just as it was boarding and we were spitting at each other and stinky and tired and wholly unhappy. Nothing like reentering your own country to make any sort of travel wholly undesireable. We should have stayed in Europe.

And that's my diatribe. We reallyl did have a lovely time. I will recount it later, but I had to get this off my chest first.

The Eve Before the Trip

We leave tomorrow morning. We fly to Dulles then Frankfurt and finally to Budapest. Everything seems to be ready. I spent the whole day on line trying to put together a list of addresses for cultural facilities that might let me shoot on their property. I've only heard from one of them, who has invited me to a Balkan folk dance party on the 20th. Should be interesting no matter what happens.

We had a bit of a setback this morning. John called me to tell me that our hotel had not been secured. We thought it was taken care of but apparently not. He went on line at work and searched around for something affordable. We settled on the Hotel Pest, which is pictured here. It's a 3-star in an 18th century building with terrific reviews on line. I hope it lives up to its reputation. The best part is its location. It's right next to the Opera House and very close to the Lizst Academy of Music. Nothing like being in the middle of it all to inspire my shooting schedule.

Last night John and I went to see Pink Martini - Finally!! We tried to go when they were at Humphreys this summer but I got called away to work at Glimmerglass in New York and we ended up eating the tickets. Last night they were at 4th and B, which is a far inferior venue, but the band was still amazing. Check out the link if you haven't heard of them. They're from Portland, Oregon, and I discovered them about seven years ago when "Sympathique," their first album, was brand new. They do global lounge music. Bachelor pad favorites in Portugese, Italian, Japanese, French and even English. They have a great version of "Brazil," and "Bolero," and an incredibly creepy version of "Que Sera Sera."

There are twelve of them, with a great torch singer, China Forbes, along with piano, full drums, trombone, trumpet and a cross section of strings. All of them incredibly accomplished. I was especially enamored of one of Paloma Griffin, one of the violinists, who sat in the very front a bit stony-faced but passionate in her movements as she drew her bow across the violin. I enjoyed every minute of their playing and banter and wished there was a dance floor available. John says he doesn't dance, but I think if I can just get him out there...

The crap part was the venue. The people running the gig were loud and rude and seemd to think we were all teens at a rock concert instead of 30, 40 and 50-somethings at a big band performance. They stopped an incredible tango couple (and were admonished by the band for doing so) and spoke at full voice, yelling across the room, at extremely quiet times in the performance. The drinks were massively over priced, they didn't have a good liquor stock ("DiSarrono on the rocks, Oh, you don't have Amaretto...um, Kahlua and Cream, oh, no Kahlua?"), and they served everything in little plastic cups - even martinis. All through a beautiful Japanese song there were terrible noises and scraping sounds from the lobby and none of the people running the venue seemed to care. I was somewhat appalled. Pink Martini deserved better.

I hope they'll be back and in a venue more appropriate for the type of show they present.

And so, it was a night of fun and today was packing and running last minute errands. Tomorrow is getting on a plane over and over again and the next day will be running around Budapest. It's all up in the air - I have no idea what this experience will bring. It's terribly exciting and makes me a bit anxious, but I'm sure things will calm once I get there.

I'll let you know.

Feeling Better Today

This picture is of my neice, Elsa, showing me how well she spins in the living room of my parent's home in Missouri. I've been thinking a lot about my neice and nephew and how far away John and I are from them. The holidays always bring up issues of family and right now I am missing all of these people I love.

I think this bit of homesickness has been part of my problem lately. I've been in a funk, as was demonstrated by my blog entry yesterday. I'm feeling a lot better today. I took a three-mile walk and got a blended mocha at this amazing coffee shop called "Mystic Mocha" in North Park, and dropped off some more postcards and, well, ultimately revved up enough endorphins to keep me out of this funk I've been in for the last week.

I think I'm on the brink right now of a lot of things. The brink of this trip to Hungary, the brink of the holidays, the brink of me leaving for almost five months, always the brink of insanity methinks. It puts me on an edge I don't particularly care for and now I'm trying to figure out how to back up.

There are people moving into the house next door. The moving van has been out front all day and I hear noises like vacuum cleaners and electric drills and tiny shouts and sometimes laughter coming from inside the walls. John and I have discussed buying a house but it's a near impossibility for artists in the land of Southern California. What an exciting time it must be for them, but I imagine, as I would be, they are also stressing about being able to keep their finances in order and their house from falling apart. It's one of those future things that I want and don't want all at the same time.

My three cats have all been really ornery with each other lately. Lucius had a huge, bleeding scratch across his face the other morning and I've been periodically hearing screeches and growls coming from the other two as they swipe at each other an jump on the other from behind. The weather isn't nearly as hot as it was and John and I have been in good spirits with each other (despite my bit of funk) so I'm not exactly sure what's going on with them. I don't recommend three cats. There was nothing John or I could do about it as we love all three of our little quadrupeds dearly and had to force them together when we moved into the same abode, but the work load increases ten-fold when you put three of them together. My cat is particularly difficult. It's too bad he's so sweet and utterly cuddly.

I'm leaving in about half an hour to go rehearse with my six-year-old performer. She has very distinct ideas about this piece the two of us are putting together and the whole process has been a huge lesson in compromise for me. I want her to be in on the creation process but we rarely see eye-to-eye about what the piece is actually about. I thought it was going to be a conversation between me and my younger self, but it's become more of a battle of wills between a type-A of my generation and a type-A of hers. The girl's got a mind like a steel trap and a sharper tounge than I ever had at her age. I admire her spunk, and it's been a huge learning process for me. I'm interested to see what we ultimately come up with.

Life never ceases to amaze me.

Video Stills and Papering the Town

John gave me a CD of screen grabs from "Weiblich Ist?" They're always the best publicity photos for a video because they're photos that come directly from the edited piece. Here are a couple that show me on opposite sides of the gender spectrum. Scares me a bit that I look just like my brothers in the tux. People always said that my parents looked alike, and they passed on those similar genes. All four of us look like clones.

I spent the whole afternoon dropping postcards off at various coffee shops and bookstores around town. Actually, the first part of the afternoon was spent driving up to Encinitas to pick up a paycheck I have been owed for a very long time for my work at Canyon Crest. I'm not a fan of dealing with beauracracies, and this one has given me nothing but headaches. Suffice to say, it has ultimately cost me about $80 to get paid by the school district.

After that I papered the town. Not my favorite job, but it's a good feeling that people will walk into so many different places of business and see my postcard there. I hope it will drum up a few ticket sales, but I really have no idea what will make people want to come to my show. I certainly hope I can put butts in all 120 of those seats. What a nerve-wracking thing.

Tonight is a meet and greet with a man who does an arts radio show. I'll take some postcards there too. I think I'm pretty good at schmoozing, and it's important to get the word out, but it wears me down. I just want to sleep.

Well, Holy Crap!

Bush Takes Blame for GOP Election Losses

On CNN. My favorite quote:

"The message yesterday was clear: The American people want their leaders in Washington to set aside partisan differences, conduct ourselves in an ethical manner and work together to address the challenges facing our nation," Bush said.

All those things we learned in kindergarten: cooperation, following rules, acting ethically, learning to get along...it took him a while to stop stamping his feet and jutting out his lower lip, but it's good to see our president trying to act like a big boy.

Also...no more Donald Rumsfeld. Woo-Hoo!!

So now it's just up to Virginia...I've got fingers tightly crossed. Maybe we can actually see some real checks and balances in these last couple of years. A congress led by the Democrats will at least make the time leading up to 2008 a bit more bearable (please?)

Election Day Musings

We are in the midst of a knee-sweat inducing Santa Ana, and yet I put on my lightest summer clothing and walked up the street to Alice Kirby Elementary, my polling place, thinking that I would have to stand in line and would find myself sweating in places without sweat glands as the school is unairconditioned.

I was the only one there.

My electronic voting booth was broken the first time. I'd stick the voter card in the slot and my ballot was immediately cancelled three times. Ten minutes it took me to figure out how to get the thing to stick (after finally switching booths).

I was still the only one there.

Went through the countless elected representative and judicial nominees, the umpteen propositions set before California voters today, made sure I was answering each one exactly how I wanted. Mused at the fact that the whole thing was really quite easy after the whole broken booth thing was taken care of. Watched my voter tape roll through the system with my picks easily recognizeable. Still not one hundred percent about the voting machines, but much happier since I got to see my answers roll by instead of letting them disappear into the bowels of the computer without me being able to check them. That was seven or eight minutes. Turned around to grab my "I voted" sticker.

I was still the only one there.

Walked out the door into the blinding, arid sunlight; the palm trees offering no respite in shade, the asphalt steaming, my sunglasses not doing enough to keep me from squinting. No one was around; no one was walking up to the door, no one was parking their car.

I think I am the only person in University Heights who voted today.

Got home and had an email from my friend, Lynne. Her husband is from North Africa. This was his first election as a citizen of the United States. He finally got to vote for the first time in his life. She had attached a great shot of him outside the polling place, pointing jubilantly at his "I Voted" sticker, looking like he might be saving the world. How wonderful to have that kind of enthusiasm for a practice that so many Americans consider a burden, or are too cynical to deal with. So many would rather watch the shitheads take office so that they have something to perpetually complain about Do they not understand that they might not have to bitch if they actually did their civic duty?

Everyone should have a chat with someone like my friend's husband. For him this is a new and grand experience - to have a say in what our government does. We have no idea how lucky we are.

Forward . . . In Time

So I'm looking ahead to this upcoming concert. It's funny how things seem so very far away on Thursday, and then a certain Monday rolls around and you can see the avalanche barreling towards you. My calendar doesn't look full but I feel it in my veins, that adrenalin rush around the corner as I start to prepare for December.

Brecht closed this weekend. It was a joyous occasion for all and I was especially joyous to finish up there and walk away for a while. The final performance was sheer perfection after a rough matinee that afternoon. It's so terrific to see a group of teenagers in rare form - they were nervous but cool, wandering off on their own, going over lines, breathing together in a circle before filing downstairs to the theater. Several days ago, on opening night, I introduced them to a theater tradition passed on to me by Mary Rotella. We played the hokey-pokey before stepping onstage. I don't know what it is about that ridiculous song that brings a cast together, but it works every time. We picked four body parts before each show. Everyone's favorite (especially if you're 15) is hips. Most memorable was the afternoon performance when the dressing room was moved into the smallest room in creation and we stood outside in the hallway and whispered the song so the approaching audience wouldn't hear it shouted from above.

I received fond gifts from my students. Cards, a gift certificate (!!) and a bottle of wine called "The 7 Deadly Zins" ("very funny...you didn't purchase this yourselves now did you?"), and fought back a little well-up as I watched them slip into the backstage area before we started. I was reminded of my college years performing in an ill-conceived black box, where the performers would enter the stage area from behind the audience AFTER the house lights had gone down. All holding hands, we would be led onto the stage and into the wings by a stage manager with a blue-tinted flashlight. The blue lights backstage always give me a twinge in the stomach...nerves from a bygone era in my life.

So, that's over. I am left with some great pictures, and a downward pointing directional sign that simply says, "Hell," a part of the set from our "Anger" section. Haven't decided where in my house it goes best yet.

The picture is, of course, the back of my postcard. It's a self-portrait, taken at my parent's house a year and a half ago. I'm not ready for the show to go up yet, but John is helping and I think I'll be there in a month. I still have to travel to Hungary, shoot a dance video, finish choreographing a solo piece to Johnny Cash, solidify my piece with a 6-year-old spitfire, and make some changes with my duet. It's a lot, and I am being brought back to my work with Cerulean in Chicago, lo those many years ago, when I ran around town with my friend, Lynne, printing off tickets, sending out press packets, calling newspapers, shoving postcards in people's faces and hoping beyond hope that I got everything done, that I did everything I could to promote.

And so I am promoting here as well. If you're in the San Diego area, come see it!!! The website is linked at the right. I can't verify that you'll like it, but I can verify that I put everything I had into it. It's the only way I know how to work.

Off that subject . . . in other news, election day is tomorrow and I'm still not sure what I want to do about most of these propositions and some of the people I'm supposed to vote for or against. There's too much on the ballot for me to possibly take in properly and I always get into the little cubicle and have a brief moment of "Oh, the hell with it!" before I settle in and take it seriously. I wish I really felt like I made a difference.

It's hot as Hades here and I find myself longing for a real fall and winter. I think I'm truly a Northern girl at heart (as John is a Northern boy). Every time we get Santa Ana winds here I get stopped up and miserable and feel like punching anyone who gets in my way.

John and I have been pricing pet steps to put by our bed so Lucius, my middle aged, somewhat crippled cat, can get up on the bed (and off the bed) without seriously injuring himself. Expensive little buggers those stairs. How can a square of foam cost $140?? I am baffled at how much we spend to make these little quadrupeds happy (while causing myself oodles of sticker shock and stress).

That's all for the moment. More shameless plugs and inconsequential musings later....

Wal-Mart Thinks Bin Laden has been Delivering their Chips

So, this poor Argentinian man, Oscar Brufani, makes his living delivering potato chips to markets around Argentina. His biggest customer was Wal-Mart until a couple of years ago, when he showed up to deliver and the following happened:

"Brufani already noticed the two men in suits when he was unloading his crates: They were staring at him. They eyeballed him, whispered to each other, looked at him again. Then they went to the store manager's office.

"You can't work here anymore. Orders from upstairs," the store manager said when she finally arrived at the car park, Brufani remembers. He asked whether he had done anything wrong, and she told him no -- the problem was his beard. "The controllers think you look like Osama bin Laden. If you appear on any of the images recorded by the security cameras, I'll lose my job."

Those North Americans are nuts, Brufani thought to himself. Do they really think bin Laden would spend his time delivering chips to a Wal-Mart store in La Plata?"

What the hell is wrong with people in our country? The man wears a beard because he likes it. Hell, my father wore a full beard for years and years, would he be banned from work today because he looked too much like a terrorist mastermind? Fear has taken over. Bush has perpetuated it. And that, more than anything else people are doing, is helping the terrorists at their work. He has helped the terrorists achieve exactly what they wanted - making our entire country break down its freedoms because we are "terrified" of what will happen if we maintain our way of life.

Read the full article by clicking on the link below.

Brecht Opens Tomorrow

...thank heavens!

We had our final dress rehearsal tonight. It's a short piece so we had the chance to run it twice. These kids have worked really hard. I was looking back at old rehearsal pictures and realized what a long way we've come from that first rehearsal with a golf cart sitting in our rehearsal space and some of the worst French pronunciation I've yet encountered.

We've gone from sloppy shapes to beautiful angles with my three students stuck behind a scrim for most of the show. I have a student who slithers artfully across a piano, one who kicks over a chair with incredible verve, another who, after much coaxing, singles out audience members to tell them how much better she is than them, and a young piano player who blows me away every time he touches the keys.

I can't say that this has been a stress-free love fest. High school shows are difficult because they lack the support of a professional theater. No matter how much I'd like to say otherwise, I produced this show nearly on my own. I fought with space problems, a missing costumer, no funds, no stock, and a fire alarm that kept going off in rehearsal after rehearsal. Everything that professional actors know instinctively has to be explained in great detail in a high school rehearsal, and never assume that anyone will remember anything I say. However, I will walk away from this feeling like I've given these kids something to think about, and maybe I've inspired one or two of them to do their own work...

It's been a learning experience for all of us.
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This is day one or two of rehearsal. The first time we worked as a full group in the cabaret set up. The first rehearsal they all learned how to play blackjack. I think they are showing off their new-found skills here.

The first time we put together the Pride tableau. This is one of my favorite moments in the piece.

The Pride Tableau in a cueing session. The lights are the essence of the piece. They train the audience where to look. The addition of the scrim changed how all of the students responded to each other on stage. It was a riot watching the tech crew load that thing out of the scene shop and bring it over to our little neck of the woods.

This is the climax of the piece in full costume. Anna's revelation, I call it.

Here we see the cabaret moments come to fruition. Still playing blackjack, but finally looking the part. It's only missing a little smoke and some whiskey bottles, but we joke that it's a smoke-free, juice bar cabaret. They're all the rage in Berlin.

My amazing family in their silhouette corner. They worked so incredibly hard to achieve these gorgeous tableaus and I am amazed at the results. I could watch them all day.

The cut out in the letter was my student's idea. As soon as they realized how much they could contribute, the ideas started pouring out. Much of the design of the show was put together by brainstorming with these kids. I love being able to say that the show is as much theirs as it is mine.

I give all of my shows as gifts to my performers. Sometimes I get something back in return.