No board, no strategic plan, no subscribers, no overhead, no endowment, no production costs. How the Back Room Shakespeare Project gave up on theatre—and revived It.

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No board, no strategic plan, no subscribers, no overhead, no endowment, no production costs. How the Back Room Shakespeare Project gave up on theatre—and revived It.
As a former actor and long-time acting teacher, coach, and director as well as an avid consumer of entertainment commentary and criticism, I’ve noticed a disturbing pattern among otherwise clearly educated and otherwise honorable and incisive critics, entertainment bloggers, podcast hosts and
I just put my faithful sidekick in the storage unit. #beherenow #sweethomechicago #puttingdownroots #groundedanditfeelssogood #roadwarriornomore #catharsisproductions
I just put my faithful sidekick in the storage unit. #beherenow #sweethomechicago #puttingdownroots #groundedanditfeelssogood #roadwarriornomore #catharsisproductions
Just arrived at my hotel: it’s not yet 1p, and there’s an older man acting impatient with the clerk. I queue up and fiddle with my phone–he interrupts me multiple times to warn me ‘they don’t have rooms’ 'she says check in isn’t until 3’ and I brush him off. He becomes louder and more belligerent towards the (young, female) clerk until she tells him, sir, my manager would tell you exactly what I just told you, I’m getting you a room as quickly as possible, but I don’t have to take this abuse and I will call security to have you removed if you continue. He keeps badgering her ‘this is the worst service ever, I travel for a living, blahblahblah’ until she hands him a key and he storms out of the lobby. She tells me she’ll be right with me with a quaver in her voice and I look her in the eye and tell her hey, if you need a minute, take it. I’ve got time, and that guy was being a real jerk.
This prompts an outpouring of smushed-together words: 'omigoshthankyou, Itoldhimbuthewouldntlisten – thatwasnteventhatbadthough, Ivehadpeoplethrowkeysatme’, all as she deftly checks me in and hands me my key. I tell her it’s okay to cry if she needs to, and wish her better days from here on out.
When I get to my room the phone rings – she needs one more signature, would I come back? At the desk she hands me a little gift bag, saying, I made this for you, for being so nice.
So here’s the thing that strikes me: I’m a relentlessly social being, but today I woke up feeling completely drained and distracted--when I left home this morning, all I wanted was to be left alone. And I got that. I was alone waiting for my bus, alone on the train, alone in the airport, alone on a nice quiet flight, alone in my rental car, looking forward to being alone at the hotel. And all that yearned-for alone time? It did nothing to improve my mood--in fact I was getting grumpier as the day went on. This interaction was not part of my plan, and yet, it completely turned my day around. Thank you, Steph, for being so dang gracious, and for giving me a chance to be a better version of me.
Joy > Fear
Last night I attended The?Unicorn?Hour? at the Neo-Futurarium. It was a journey through the looking glass, into the Joy Womb, a magical childlike space populated by two Unicorn sprites and their madcap imaginations. There was miming and dancing and STUNTS and clowning and swearing and surprise guests and a trek to a mountain peak. The invitation was simple–the Unicorns beckon us to recognize the gleeful, playful, delighted Unicorn spirit within ourselves, and conjure it. To give the gift of ourselves, and receive their gifts (edible, audible, and otherwise) in return. To choose Joy instead of Fear in these dark times.
Here is what I learned from the Unicorns:
Fear will penetrate the blanket fort of your joy. When it does, enlist the aid of a trusted friend and approach the Fear together; do it bravely, boldly, weirdly, with caution and respectful gestures. Fears are hazardous and unpredictable things, and must be treated as such. Then, once you’ve got it well in hand, banish its ass to the stratosphere. An encounter with a particularly nasty Fear may demand an adventure in its aftermath--heed this call, and pursue it. You may be tempted to get in the backseat for this journey--don’t. You are your own captain, so you must take the wheel. And when, in your adventuring, you find a particularly spectacular view, call on that same trusted friend so they may share in your delight, and celebrate with you.
We all have a choice whether or not to let the fear overtake us. Will we sit, stunned and passive, in the dark? Or will we foster a little light, near to our hearts, nurture it, share it, and drive out the darkness with our joy?
I was lucky enough to be part of this charming story--enjoy!
(via https://vimeo.com/39394661?ref=tu-v-share)
"I have built a working miniature replica of the patriarchy in my mind. I would like very much to bust it up or burn it down. But I am afraid I don’t know how. Though I do have some ideas."
“She can write like a man, they said, by which they meant, She can write.”
Star Wars philosophizing
A friend was razzing me a few days back about Rogue One. ‘So, in like 8 years when there are 25 Star Wars Movies, are they just all going to be about the Death Star? Come on, it’s a little tired--in Force Awakens they even called it out themselves.’
Of course I took the bait and started making elaborate sci-fi-nerd faux-scientific excuses--hey, spherical objects in space makes some sense, right?--but I’ve been marinating on it since, and here’s what I’ve got:
Maybe the point is that Evil is persistent, but uninventive. Sure, there is darkness, and greed, and bigotry in any society, and those things will simply never be eradicated--there’s the bad news. The good news is that when fear and selfishness do metastasize into an Army, a Corporation, or a Regime, those machines operate in familiar ways, and that means that when the worst happens, we already have the blueprints.
Look to your history, Rebels and Resistance fighters. There’s always an exhaust port or an unexpected ally on the inside to discover.
Thanks be for the Project. Next week, for one night only, I’ll be Troila, a warrior and a princess whose true love is traded away to the enemy.
My brilliant friend wrote this.
17x2=birthday
I’ve spent just about every birthday of my life in costume. Starting with Yoda, then various ghosts, Punky Brewster (I have two different feet, why shouldn’t I wear two different shoes?), Raggedy Ann, Columbia from Rocky Horror, Strawberry Shortcake, Dr River Song... I turned 34 on Friday dressed as Tank Girl, whom I first discovered back in 1996, when I was living in Colorado Springs. I was angsty and rebellious and LOVED how unruly and rude she was--still do. So here’s to one more year of bulldozing my way through life, breaking the rules that need breaking, blowing shit up, tap dancing with aliens, keeping track of spoilers, looking out for the little guy, and being a real live Strong Female Protagonist. Wish me luck!
And if their sons grow to be / like the men that they see
So it’s on me to live / like the men I want them to be
Then I will do that too.