Thoughts and Things

Pandemic Realness

How are you doing these days, friends? As 2020 draws to a close… it feels like everyone wants to sum it up somehow. Useless!

I stayed home a lot more this year. I made a lot of drawings. I cooked a lot of food. With all — ALL — the things happening this year, it felt kinda like being in a hurricane except that I’ve never been in one, so it’s really more like what I imagine that must be like. I’ve been in plenty of earthquakes… those are totally different. A short sharp shock, relatively, and then it’s over. You have room to survey the damage, assess, move to safety, pick up toppled items and sweep up broken glass, etc etc etc. There’s always the probability that another one will follow quickly on its heels, but now you’re prepared. Passing traffic will raise the hairs on the back of your neck. You brace yourself for the next one.

So maybe 2020 is more like a very very slow slow slow motion earthquake… all I know is, it’s still shaking. And I’ve been lucky enough so far to be under a pretty sturdy desk. So far.

Whoever you are, I wish you a sturdy desk too. Hold on during all this shaking. Let’s see what happens next. Someday we’ll get to pause, sweep up the broken glass, and look around cautiously at our new world.

Performance Season… the ripples are still visible

This evening was performance day for one of the outreach programs I teach for through Northwest Children’s Theater, and so many things happened that made me happy… it’s such a great illustration of all the reasons why theater is important. It was also the end of the NWCTS term (and the beginning of a brief respite before SUMMER CAMP) so I’m feeling especially reflective.

The performance itself is important, but it’s also just the tip of the iceberg of the whole experience. Anyone wandering into the gym that night would have seen a goofy play put on by 21 spunky, thoughtful, spirited, idiosyncratic students (grades 3-5) who sang and danced a little, performed fight choreography, landed punch lines, wandered around onstage a bit, gave each other non-subtle cues and corrections which were adorably visible from the audience, and got a standing ovation.

But that random spectator would not have known that: the final performance of the play was the best one yet, and that every kid had made a huge leap in character, stage presence, and volume from just four hours earlier; that all the stress-related problems from the performance earlier that day were all fixed and transcended in that evening show; that the kids created that fun fight choreography montage *themselves*; that they seamlessly saved each other from forgotten lines or blocking a couple times; that that performance was not just another performance, but for them a triumph. Everyone went through a collective elementary school epiphany. It was kind of glorious.

That’s also just, relatively speaking, still part of the tip of the iceberg. We’d worked with those children for the last seven, eight weeks, and watched them and the play evolve in that time. I’ve been teaching at that school for three years now, and gotten to see some of my students from tonight evolve from shy “only one line please” types to more confident versions of themselves.

Tonight before the show, they all had anxious questions, suggestions, brainstorms, thoughts, realizations about the show. Someone was describing to me the obvious sequel to this year’s play, while someone else was asking to clarify their blocking, while someone else was bursting at the seams to give me their solution to the microphones getting caught on the curtain, while someone was wondering what order the curtain call was going in, so they could be prepared.

Even that’s still pretty near the surface. From the past seven weeks until tonight, while I’ve been hanging around before and after rehearsals, I see how the past four years of drama classes have spread through the rest of the school. One student, who I remember from when he was in first grade, makes a point of saying hello to me every time he’s in the bus line or anywhere near the gym doorway: “Do you remember me from drama? Next year I’m going to be in the play!” Another student from three years ago (brother of a current student) approached me after the play tonight shyly smiling: “Do you remember me?” A second grader from winter term, who’s too young for the spring play, finds me twice a week when I’m there after school, just to say hello. Other students who’ve never been in any of my classes still recognize me and wave and ask about this year’s play and whether they can be in it next year.

And then the audience was full of about 70 people to see those 21 students…some were parents, some were grandparents, some were toddlers. Some were even former students of mine, which now that I’ve been here for — gasp, almost 4 years — there are more of than I thought. Several of the parents informed me that their child would not stop talking about the play—even some children about whom that came as a surprise to me.

The process of creating theater usually culminates in a performance, but that performance is only a central point from which its power radiates. The young performers learn invaluable skills: how to solve problems without adults helping them, how to show up when they’re due, how to listen, how to memorize, how to adapt to changing situations, how to try on a different way to live and move and feel, how to be present in the moment but also aware of the audience… and on and on.
Meanwhile, the adults and guardians following this journey see: different sides of their child’s potential, different skills they maybe didn’t know their child had, and new ways in which their child can be brave.Theater affects everyone, from process to performance … and way, way beyond.

 

New-Old Blog

I just rediscovered my old blog, left over from the Un-Scripted Theater Company days… and it still feels relevant. It’s interesting to see what you (and by you I mean me) were like five and more years ago, in a different place both geographically and figuratively. It’s nice to know that I still agree with myself, five years later.

I re-found my blog when I was looking for my old “Bollywood of the Week” movie review posts to make movie recommendations to a friend; if you’re in need of some high-budget but highbrow (only because it’s got subtitles) entertainment, you should totally check out the reviews.

And perhaps most relevant to my current life, I still agree with my New Improv Manifesto, about cutting straight to the heart of learning to improvise.

 

Currently Fascinated: Sewing Blogs

I bet you do this too … when my little fish-brain gets caught on a hook of an idea, sometimes it follows that line far and deep. Sometimes the ride is long; sometimes the line snaps pretty quickly. But however long it takes, I’m along for the ride. (See my Bollywood films blog, for example…)

These days, I’m fascinated by sewing blogs. Two that I read pretty much every day, both for their own content and for the content they themselves link to: 

Gertie’s New Blog for Better Sewing

Male Pattern Boldness

Both Gertie and Peter seem like delightful people with whom I’d like to be friends … they both seem to have that cheerful willingness to sally forth into the unknown, armed with a good attitude and a practical confidence. I like to think I possess that quality too; as improvisors, we learn pretty quickly that assuming success takes you a long way towards succeeding. If you’re going to make things (including theater) for a living or a hobby, you tend to get attacked by a lot of little logistical surprises; actual physical materials (and human beings) tend not to behave the way you wish they would. When those problems arise, assuming that you can probably fix them will usually help you *actually* fix them. 

Sew on, you heroes of fiber and cloth. And one of these days, among these days I spend ravenously reading sewing blogs, I’ll actually make myself start sewing again.

I’m going to assume success.