A.O. The Trunk Show

Dive into the trunk.

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The River Cities' Reader Online - Updated daily local media website and bi-weekly newspaper that covers the Arts, Business, Culture and Politics of the Quad Cities' area.

Check out this article written about us by Mike Schulz of the River City Reader about our upcoming shows in the Quad Cities and our project overall!

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This is an American Odyssey, and we can't have an Odyssey without going up against a monster or two

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The phrase, “frozen with fear” keeps running through my brain, like those tickers on Wall Street. You know the ones, the red and green ones that tell all the stock brokers how much the economy is tanking? Those ones. Only this one, the one in my brain, is saying “frozen with fear.” Over and over again.

So, I was featured in another blog, Herstryblg.com, a fantastic platform for women writers.  It’s about this crazy adventure, in fact, it’s about my first encounter with the Trunk-mobile.  Take a look. -Michele Stine

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The never ending saga of the Trunkmobile...changing a popped tire on the side of the road, like you do. 

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Open Doors, Open Hearts

Post By: Michele Stine

We can see the lights turned on as we drive up.

The doors open.

And then the arms open.

And all I can think of is how their hearts and mine are opened.

To take in two roaming traveling artists into their homes for a night or two.  These human beings who we have not seen or spoken to in years have volunteered (and some even insisted, I'm looking at you Judy) that we stay with them.  

My heart swells with gratitude and thanks for these people who have given us couches, and beds, and meals, and showers, oh god, showers are everything to us.  I always feel rude when it's the first thing I request to do.  I'm talking, moments into walking to the apartment/house/condo, but I promise, it's for the benefit of all that this happens IMMEDIATELY. Then we can all breath safely and enjoy conversation and food and drink.

We have had places to stay in almost every major city we've been to: Detroit, Boston, Tewksbury, New York, Philadelphia, Washington, D.C., Charleston, and Savannah.  And I know that there are more to come.  

And there, simply, is not enough that I can say or do to thank these individuals.  We would not be able to do this road trip, were it not for these gracious humans. 

It is because of these people, this experience, and this feeling that has opened my mind to what it means to help your fellow artist (this and Amanda Palmer's book "The Art of Asking”....which I STRONGLY recommend).  I used to think that the only way you could support someone is with time or money (see a show or donate to a company) but there is so much more. 

Comfort is opening up your couch to someone who is passing through, or performing in town, or is just trying to get back on their feet.

Encouragement is letting someone use your shower.   

Sustenance is cooking them a meal and sharing stories with one another.

Support is recommending the best places to go and see in your city.  

Friendship is going with them to explore your favorite places.  

Love is listening. 

For your comfort, encouragement, sustenance, support, friendship, and love; I hope that I can return those gifts someday. 

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Trunk on Trunk, er, hood.  A hooded trunk!

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I think we hit 88 and time traveled back ten years. #greatscott #happybacktothefutureday #whereweregoingweneedroads

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Rude awakening-surprisingly polite

Here’s to Stamford’s finest, who shone their flashlights inside of the Trunk-mobile at 11:30pm last night. The police were called due to us dangerous degenerates sleeping inside of our van on a quiet dead-end street. The police officers were very polite, (I guess it helps when you have all your papers in order, don’t have any priors, and aren’t REALLY doing anything wrong.) They had to ask us to move to appease the locals who called it in, staring at the three police cars (a little excessive) surrounding us. We left with a police escort, staring down the looky-loo residents as we drove away. Good job, citizen: you caught the evil sleeping artists. You can now rest easy 

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On the road aga-- nope, nevermind.

The rumble of the train we’re riding north to Tewkesbury from Boston feels like a massage because we’ve clocked dozens of miles on our feet and bikes. Our day bags are over packed to bursting with extra clothes and food and the electronics we need to keep the administrative side of the tour in motion. We are stuck in Massachusetts. I knew it would happen just as much as anyone else did who has a solid sense of skepticism and the knowledge that our Van is younger than I am by only four years: the car needs unforeseen repairs that are going to cost almost as much as I originally paid for it. It was only a matter of time that something happened which would hit us in the wallet as much as it would our schedule. It came in the form of a seized cylinder on the rear brakes and old and cracked hubs due to excess heat from overuse after a period of dormancy resulting in a complete replacement of the rear break system. Why any of the three mechanics didn’t see this as necessary before we left Chicago is beyond me.  We left the car with the mechanics in Cambridge MA hoping it would be taken care of first thing Saturday morning, (which is comical in retrospect.) The news of what needed to be done came Saturday. The bearings for a Van of this make and age wouldn’t come until Sunday, which meant that things wouldn’t be finished until Monday morning best case scenario. This was one more day than we had agreed upon with our hosts. My cousin Ashley and her new husband (and sweetheart since highschool) had been kind enough to take us in for two days.  We return to the van on Saturday to swap out clothes, and pack additional food for the next day and a half. Traveling smart means provisions, traveling courteously means clean clothes, traveling cost-effectively means heaping it onto our backs and mounting our bikes to get around the city. We barely catch the northbound Lowell commuter train to Tewksberry where our good friend’s parents have graciously invited us to stay the night. This is perhaps the biggest silver lining in being stranded: we got full-on mom treatment for a night. All of the comforts of home, we’re fed, we’re provided drinks, television, more baked goods and candy than we’ve eaten in weeks and a warm bed. The next morning, we're off as soon as we get the go ahead from the mechanic. Driven to the train, the train back to Boston, bikes to the car and the car on the highway. Finally: our brief intermission complete. It's warm out, (unseasonably so) so we keep the windows down, even on the highway going 70mph. It felt good, the wind in our hair pointed south, our purpose clear, ready to forge on.  And then we smell it. . . again.  Burning rubber or metal on metal or chemicals or any combination, but it’s bad. “It’s that truck ahead of us. Look at all the emissions it’s putting out. Here- I’ll pull off to let it get ahead of us a bit.”  We stop on the McDonalds and gas station oasis off of highway 90. Exiting the car, it’s very clear the smell is coming from us. If our olfactory senses weren’t enough to be sure (and they were) There is a light whispy white smoke coming from each of the wheel hubs. The mechanics from Boston are baffled, they ask me to put on and release the parking break hoping that by some miracle there’s a user error here but I was certain that wouldn’t do it. By 40 miles out, we’re closer to the Framingham AAMCO location, so we forge on. By the time they get it in, it’s 4:40pm. It’s up on the lift at 4:50 and too hot to the touch to do anything with before they close at 5 (or even an hour afterward) So they make room for us in the most private part of the lot to hunker down for the night. We walk for a while in Framington, not finding much but a pub. (The best thing about getting stuck in a small town is the price of a drink) So we do our best to numb the frustration for one more night and count our blessings, including fully charged laptops which allow us to watch the previously pirated movies collected on a flash drive for just such an occasion. The morning comes too early but a 7am wake up call is necessary if we want the second mechanic to be able to get to it first thing. The coffee in the waiting room is terrible, but we muscle it down along with peanut-butter and jelly sandwiches made from the Van before it got hoisted up. Two hours go by and they’ve finished, fixing the mistakes, adjusting what was missed, making up for what failed. We have keys back in hand, after what feels slightly like a lost night and we’re back on the highway, heading straight for New York City. And then we smell it. . . again. Pulled off to the side of the road. The same whispy white smoke, the same stench.  Our capacity for optimism is growing thin. We are now closer to a new location in Connecticut. Sitting in a waiting room for a third hour after bits of updates and news are delivered which sound less hopeful at every turn. The cable is rare. It could take a week. Liability issues. One cable which splits into four. I can feel my stomach turn and I can’t tell if its from the greasy spoon next door or if my anxiety is telling me that we’re temporarily doomed. For once in my life, I hope I have food poisoning. 

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Rolled into Massachusetts today, spending the night in Salem tonight!

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Hitting the Road. Let the American Odyssey begin!

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I Sold My Soul

Post By: Michele Stine

Selling my soul.  

That is what I’m doing.

But not in the evil sold-my-soul-to-the-devil way (at least I think).  I’m talking about selling this project.

This project that we have poured our hearts and souls into.  

The hearts and souls of multiple artists, their words, their directions, their art, their music, their puppets, their time.  

All of this I am attempting to sell to theatre companies across the country.  Convince total strangers that we are worth investing in. That we have something that is unlike anything they’ve ever seen before.  We’re trying to be surrogates of what we believe Chicago theatre is. And that what we’re doing is low cost but high profit.  

And I have to say it’s been frustrating.

I know that with putting yourself out there, as an artist or as a general human being, you need to develop tough skin. But this endeavor, this crazy, seemingly impossible, dream has been all Scott and I have been able to talk about, think about, and work on for months and months and now it’s come down to the part where we need to convince other people to believe in us.

And I’m hearing no.

Over and over and over and over again.

And I’m trying to figure out how to not take this so personally.

How do I build a wall around my emotions so that when someone says that we are not worth their time, I don’t crumble into a puddle of tears?  How do I grow chain-mail skin so that when someone tells me that they don’t have any time for outside performers, I don’t absorb their criticism into my bloodstream?  What do I need to do to create a moat around my heart so that when someone says that we are crazy to attempt this endeavor, my heart doesn’t dissolve into a pile of ash?

These are the things they don’t prepare you for.  (They being every professor, adviser, and mentor you’ve had) They tell you that you can’t take it personally, but don’t teach you how to arm yourself for that. They tell you that your art is not attached to you, so when your art is critiqued, you are not being attacked, but I don’t know how to cut that cord.  My art is my words, my words are my voice, and my voice is what makes me who I am; so how am I to disconnect that so that my art and I stand separate?

I don’t have an answer. I don’t have sage pieces of advice for this dilemma, other than I can’t get numb to it. Because if I become numb to the hurt, I fear that I won’t know what it means to be human.

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Switching Hats

The Producer hat is placed on, first thing in the morning while sitting at a nine to five desk job, setting aside the work I'm paid for to crank out emails to producing partners states away to negotiate details for November. Meanwhile my partner is wearing her Set Designer hat, as she sketches out the first draft of a prop in preparation to be painted. At lunchtime, the Managing Director hat is worn, where ticketing software is learned between bites of a hastily made sandwich and as soon as the afternoon hits, text messages are exchanged between both of us wearing Costume Designers' hats to agree on the tightness of a certain characters pants. Swap that out for an Actor hat to learn lines for the coming rehearsal where the Stage Manager hat is worn to set the room and keep all parties on task. One rehearsal ends and another begins and the Deviser hat is adopted to scheme the best way to effectively choreograph a dream ballet inside of a pantomimed kitchen. The rehearsal ends and the Marketing Director hat is thrown on for the final hour of the day to make sure that people will come if we build it, so they can see what's inside this trunk filled with hats.

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The Eldest of the Orphans: An interview with co-creator of Gashlycrumb Orphanage

Last weekend Michele and I sat down with one of the co-creators of Gashlycrumb Orphanage to pick her brain about prop construction, choreography, and the evolution of their script. Lacy Katherine Campbell recently migrated to Seattle, but was back in Chicago for work. One of the most benevolent souls I've met: she carved out an hour to chat with us at Filter Coffee Shop in Wicker Park:

Scott Ray Merchant: So let’s talk a little bit about the origin of this show. You cite Edward Gorey as an inspiration, can you tell us when you first encountered his work?

Lacy Katherine Campbell: Oh, man. It would have been tenth or eleventh grade that I met someone who would later become my best friend. Who totally opened my eyes to all sorts of weird- basically anything “art-y” and that was a huge period of learning and I absolutely loved it. It finally gave me a place to lock into as a weirdo in my small, little town.

SRM: Where are you from?

LKC: Denton, Texas. And so yeah, that was during high school.  And when I went to college, I had a Gashlycrumb Tinies poster in my dorm.

SRM: So you’re a longtime weirdo?

LKC: Oh yeah.

SRM: So how do you feel that world of the macabre intersects with the world of clown theatre? OR  I suppose, when was the first time that you started to observe dark material through a very lighthearted lens?

LKC: Well without getting too into it, I have a history of depression and mental illness in high school and I think it’s like anything else, you have to find a way to overcome those things and I was just sort of like: okay, this is the way I’m going to handle this. So I guess that’s where I, as an artist, started fighting back. Because I’m clearly not going to let this kill me. I will—find a way. It’s not hard for me to see a direct line between that and where I am now.

SRM: Can you speak a bit about the world of Gashlycrumb Orphanage and how it intersects with Gorey’s “Gashlycrumb Tinies?” It seems like they exist in the same universe but you’ve created something completely new.

LKC: The name is actually just an homage. That name really came later on, after we had already been developing stories of the Orphanage. The origin came when I was shooting some photos with Joe Mazza from Brave Lux Inc. and he actually came up with this idea of doing these black-ringed eyes. And we started playing around together and he came up with this character, Mademoiselle Baggare, in red nose. And I liked it a lot and the photos were very cool but then Joe’s plate got full with a lot of other projects. And I really wanted to make a show, Jeff really wanted to make a show. So Jeff and I decided to work together and we initially approached Joe about like- “Hey, how would you feel if I took Mademoiselle Baggare and developed it in another show?” and Joe very beautifully and eloquently said “Well I kind of feel like that was something you and I created together.” Which is totally right. In fact, he had all the instincts on that project and I was following his lead. So from there, it was like “Well would it be okay if we kept the eyes? And sort of go down another road?” And Joe, of course, being the gracious human that he is was like “Oh, Please, sure!” I think he wanted to protect the name and a few of the other visual trademarks, we had shot some videos that he scripted and Joe put a lot of work into that. It was a good lesson in shared creative ownership. And Joe became such an incredible supporter of Gashlycrumb, and it means so much to us that he loves the show as much as he does.

SRM: Conversely, that’s a great point as it relates to our taking over this project that you and Jeff worked very hard on. So what do you feel that you took away from that interaction with Joe the most?

LKC: Not being afraid to say that I worked very hard on this and all I have is the idea. I mean, no one’s going to have money from this, I mean: if only. We’re not worried about you guys getting rich and stealing millions of dollars from this idea, but we put so much heart into it - and time, and soul. It’s like a baby. You really want to make sure that it grows up right and that it becomes the best little baby it can be.

SRM: That’s interesting, that when we approached you and Jeff about this idea of taking the reigns of this show that it really was like asking someone to take care of their baby. The initial reaction is flattery but then there’s sort of a brass tacks discussion to see what our true intentions are and if we’re equipped to watch over your baby.

LKC: I think eventually- what is the baby equivalent of doing this show for a while? We have to just let it go off and be itself. And I don’t think you guys are going to run it into the ground, but if you run it into the ground then you do! And that’s okay! We can always pick it back up, you’re not going to break it. But what IS going to happen is that you’re going to bring really interesting ideas and views and you’re going to ask questions that make us think more about it and make me a better artist, you know? Just having to answer things that make me look at it in a new light. Having those moments only can make it better.

SRM: One of the reasons I love this show so much is that it brings together brilliant poetic writing with the raw emotional availability of clown. Can you speak a little bit about what the building of this show was like between you and Jeff

LKC- Jeff very much brought the raw energy and emotional availability- so we would improvise these scenarios together and then write down what we liked. I would usually take them home and sort of wordsmith them then I would send a script with my proposals then we would back and forth a little bit. We did a lot of this:  (and this is SO helpful to me) "This is a BAD idea but what I'm thinking is something like this..." and it was totally fine for the other person to say "Yes, you're right, that's terrible BUT now I know what you're thinking." Creating a brand new show, it always feels like the road is somewhere in this general area-- we'd go down wrong paths but it would eventually find its way. It's like going down a tree in reverse. There are so many small branches that you have to hit before you get more and more solid.

SRM: When you started the work, I had seen you around Chicago perform smaller bits of the show. At that point in time, did you know you were building a full show?

LKC: We built it as we went. We didn’t think we would make a full show so quickly. We thought we would make these characters and just create a world that they could live in. We started a backlog of a thousand stories that we could possibly tell. We would come up with those ideas within the framework we'd established. Pivot Arts festival asked us: "Would you like to perform a full show in May?" and we were like, "Well, you don't say no to that." But we always envisioned it as this episodic thing. What we didn't anticipate is that people would always expect consistency. People would always want to see Sophronia- and they'd be kind of upset if they didn't get to and that we were doing something new.

SRM: --people coming back, and bringing their friends to see what they loved?

LKC- What a terrible problem to have, right? That was the other thing- with every different episode we made, as I saw it as "This is what I could do with THIS visual choice" and it's such a great opportunity to stretch those wings or flex those muscles or whatever  - but for a minimalist show eventually it can get out of hand with physical stuff.

SRM: There's so much care that the characters take with the audience. And that's what people take home.

Michele Stine: Not all audience members want to be engaged with, how did you deal with that?

LKC: Well it's low participation, we'd make it pretty clear that you don't have to say anything, you don't have to do anything: I'm just going to say this to you. If anyone was really sweating it, I'd direct it more to the house and give them their artifact after telling the audience their story. 

SRM: The immersive nature of this show is super low key and I've noticed that people can kind of choose their level of commitment.

LKC: That was the whole thing: treat everyone with love and respect.

SRM: You really bring the audience into a sense of belonging and everyone feels like they’re on the same team at the end. I wonder if you can talk a little bit about that sense of belonging.

LKC: That is what I want. More than anything else. And that is-- from deep in the heart of Lacy. Never feeling like I belonged, never feeling wanted. I wanted to feel welcome somewhere and that I was -like- unconditionally just OKAY and that I wouldn't get booted, or found out or say something stupid, and be hated. So that just came from the question: "What do I want more than anything else? I want to belong." So that was the gift that I wanted to give to everyone else and that was what I wanted to hear.

SRM: People always want to stick around afterward, there's a certain sense of connection once they do belong, and they want to talk to you.

LKC: Absolutely, they start making up their own stories about themselves and each other using the names we give them, so that's really powerful. it makes you ask: How many people have you affected? Maybe only one, maybe two, but who cares? All that really matters is that one.

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Our website has launched! http://www.aothetrunkshow.com/ High five!

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The precipice

Imagine you are standing on the precipice of something terrifying. Let's say it is a diving board The high one, not the three-footer you're used to You peer over the edge Feel your lungs inflate with an uncertain gasp You shut your eyes tight You consider going back, but the ladder is full With your friends who helped you climb it in the first place You know they'd let you by if you really wanted to change your mind But they're looking up at you Smiling Telling you you've got this And not to be afraid And they'll be right there

You turn around, look once more over the edge into that deep blue For all you know, the most refreshing sensation awaits you That you'll enter the water flawlessly and want to go again and again . . .Or there could be sharks. And drowning Certain death.

But you've come this far With so many behind you So you take a few steps back Make the necessary preparations and steel yourself Because failure is a worthy risk But there is no excuse not to try

You take one last breath A running start And then You dive.

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Michele plays a mean Imaginarilele. Scratch Night 7/715 at Physical Festival Chicago