On The Road — Page 29

Headed Down the Highway

January 21, 2017 at 9:32 am by Claudia

Well, we’ve opened! Opening night was terrific, with a great and very responsive audience. It’s been such a joy to watch this production grow and become what it is today. Maybe I’m reading into things, but I felt the audience craved and needed laughter last night, and they got it.

Temporary healing for the soul.

It’s been a great ride and, as always, I thank Darko and everyone involved with Hartford Stage. This has become a home-away-from-home for me, and everyone, from Darko, the Artistic Director, and Mike Stotts, the Managing Director, on down is a gem. Truly good people. So, as I leave, though I’m anxious to get home, I also feel a twinge of sadness. That’s a good thing.

I never told you this story.

On the very first day of rehearsal, we had what is called a “Meet and Greet,” where everyone who is working on the production is introduced and we start to put names with faces. I was chatting with someone and a man came up to me. I turned to him, put out my hand, and said “I’m Claudia.” He responded, “Oh, I know who you are.” He told me he was a former student of mine at Boston University! I didn’t recognize him at first, because, let’s face it, that was 25 years ago. When he told me his name, the fog started to clear and I absolutely knew who he was. He was older, of course, and his longer, curly hair that he’d sported at BU was now darker and closely cropped, but I knew him.

I’m usually pretty good with faces – not so much names nowadays – but in this case, it was the name that jogged my memory first. Anyway, imagine my surprise and delight when I found out he was the Fight Director/Choreographer on the show! I tend to freeze-frame impressions of my former students at the age at which I knew them, simply because I don’t always see them in the intervening years. I hadn’t seen Greg since he was in my class. He’s had a whole career since then, with a Master’s Degree and further acting training as well as movement and fight training. He teaches now and lives in Connecticut. And he’s really good at what he does. Watching him work with the actors was so gratifying.

It was such a pleasure to get to know him as a colleague. This reacquaintance was one of the highlights of my time here.

Here we are about a week ago:

I know I always say this, but theater is a small world. And when my teaching and professional coaching careers intersect in such a surprising way, that’s the best!

I’m headed home later this morning. I have to close and start packing everything up. I haven’t heard from Don yet. He has been on my mind. What an adventure he is going to have today!

Thank you for all your comments yesterday. I so appreciate them and I know that the readers of this little blog do, too.

Happy Saturday.

What to Write On This Day?

January 20, 2017 at 10:25 am by Claudia

I was going to simply post a photo of Barack Obama today, but I worried about using someone’s photo without their permission. I see far too much of that in blogland; grabbing photos and graphics from Pinterest or elsewhere online, with no attribution and seemingly no sense that it isn’t right to use someone else’s creation without permission.

So I decided not to do that. Then I thought that I simply wouldn’t post because this day is a dark day for me and for the majority of Americans (by 3 million votes) who do not want that man in office. I am not watching the television. I am not reading anything about the events unfolding in Washington, DC.

But then I thought you might want a wee distraction.

So. Don is going to Washington DC in the wee hours of Saturday morning. He managed to get a space on a bus leaving at 4 a.m. I’m relieved that he’s on a bus because I worried about the mechanics of driving, finding a place to park, finding a way into the city. I briefly considered chucking it all and going with him, but I feel I should be here.

May I say how proud I am of this man? He’s marching for women, for our nephew, for the equal rights of all, for everything we hold dear. It will be stimulating and inspiring and exhausting – all of that and more. So when I arrive home tomorrow, Don will be in Washington. I won’t see him until the early hours of Sunday, I imagine.

The Ghostlight Project was powerful. That is Darko speaking to all of us in the photo. We gathered in the lower lobby of the theater, actors, theater staff and a host of people who love the arts. There were songs sung, quotes from Shakespeare, speeches by the managing director and the artistic director. Since we had just heard that The Demagogue-in-Chief wants to cut the funds for the National Endowment for the Arts and the National Endowment for the Humanities, we were reeling. Isn’t that what dictators and fascists do? Cut any support for the arts, for theater, for music, for dance, for literature, for the visual arts, for public television and public radio? They have to. Because artists of all kinds speak up, speak out, save our souls, give us beauty, make us think, and challenge those in power. They are threatening to demagogues because they speak truth to power.

Do you know how many people I know and love who work in the theater? Who depend on the theater for their employment, their living expenses? (Including my husband and me.) This leaves me shaken to my core.

There were forms for us to fill out. Here I am with mine:

I will keep fighting.

Everything we hold dear, everything that has changed and improved, all the gains we have made, are in danger.

I will miss the Obamas.

As of noon, I will no longer have a President.

Tonight is Opening Night. I will spend the day reading and packing some of my things. I’m proud, as always, to be a part of Hartford Stage and the brilliant work they do. I’m proud of this production of The Comedy of Errors. This is what we do. We bring light and sadness and humor and thoughtful, considered work to our audiences. This particular production has benefitted from a grant from the NEA.

We need the Arts. A society without them will quickly collapse.

Potpourri on Thursday

January 19, 2017 at 11:10 am by Claudia

• I’m posting a bit late this morning. I got up and realized I needed some half & half for my second cup of coffee. I’m incapable of doing anything until I finish my first cup. After that, I pulled on my jeans and a sweater and ran over to a nearby shop to buy some. Came back, made the second cup, signed onto the laptop…and my husband called. And now it’s 10:27.

A bit of a potpourri for you today:

• Staging the curtain call yesterday. The show is frozen now. I went to the performance last night, but I didn’t take any notes. It’s time to let the actors do their thing and trust that those notes will be incorporated at some point. Actually, this is a great cast and they appreciate notes and take them seriously. Opening night is tomorrow night. And then homeward I go on Saturday.

• When I arrive back home, Don will most likely not be there as he is doing everything in his power to make it to the Women’s March in Washington D.C. on Saturday. Bravo, Don! He was torn about the whole thing, thinking he should be here for my opening night, but I encouraged him to go to D.C. Much more important. I’m frustrated and have been frustrated that I can’t be there, so he will represent the two of us. Fingers crossed that it all works out.

• Tonight at 5:30, I am taking part in what is called the Ghostlight Project. The ghostlight in a theater is the single bulb on a metal stand that is left to illuminate the stage at night. The Theater Community across the country is taking part in this national day of light, with a pledge to uphold the values we hold dear: inclusion, participation and compassion for everyone in the community. We will each bring a light as we reaffirm the importance of these values.

• As we face the inauguration tomorrow, I want to direct you to this post by John Pavlovitz. I don’t know whether you’re familiar with his blog, but it has fast become a favorite of mine and of my sister, as well. John is a minister with an activist’s heart. Today’s post: Let the Record Show, says everything I believe. Please give it a read.

As I lie awake at night thinking about what is to come, filled with fear and foreboding, I often go back to one thing: That man who shall be nameless mocking a disabled reporter. No matter how he tries to spin it these days, we saw it. Over and over and over again.

A vote for this man said that was acceptable behavior. No other way to spin that, either. Those who voted for him either thought that making fun of someone with a disability was okay, or by compartmentalizing that behavior, turned a blind eye to it. Equally reprehensible.

My nephew is disabled. By voting for him, they’ve given a ‘free and clear’ to making fun of my nephew – or anyone with a disability. You don’t want to mess with me when it comes to my nephew. Trust me.

Years ago, actually, not very long ago, this alone would driven him out of the race.

What have we come to?

I don’t have to ‘come together’ with anyone who, by voting for that sorry excuse for a human being, said that mocking a disabled person was worthy behavior for a candidate for the highest office in the land. Frankly, I don’t have to come together with anyone who thinks that’s acceptable in any fellow human being. And the argument that he ‘didn’t really mean it?’ Yes, he did. He means everything he says as we will discover all too soon.

As to the voters who condoned that, who, by their silence, tacitly agreed? They’ll have to make their peace with it.

I could write a month’s worth of blog posts about what I find abhorrent and unacceptable about that man. You already know how I feel. I’ve made it abundantly clear.

But, as Don and I often say, that one thing – the mocking – was enough for us to wash our hands of him. It’s the behavior of an insecure, narcissistic bully, which I strongly suspect he has been all of his life. I have always fought for those who were bullied, even when I was a kid.

I’m not about to stop now.

Happy Thursday.

Headed Down the Highway

What to Write On This Day?

Potpourri on Thursday

Lambs Like to Party

A Note

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