We have placed so much of our time and energy in bringing Death and The Ploughman to life – but the beginning is sister to the end.

Months and months of research, reading, preparing, building, creating, learning, loving culminate in 8 performances seen by about 450 people.  This fact is neither good nor bad, it just is.  The size and scope of the show will be determined on an individual basis; each person involved in the performance – whether watching or participating – will walk away from the event with a slightly different perception of what just happened.  My hope is that we affected at least one person enough for him or her to look at his or her life with a clarity and vibrance and excitement that is contagious.

There is something beautiful about this truth: the show will end.  Knowing that the end is inevitable allows us as theatre practitioners and production creators to cherish the time we do have with the play.  Perhaps that is a fact that we can learn from live theatre; we, as human beings, are going to come to an end.  The fact that we do not know when the end will come (opposite of the reality of the majority of theatrical productions) allows for individuals to ignore the beauty and dignity that surrounds us.  The urgency of life can be trivial to the living.  As cheesy as it sounds, “Carpe Diem” is a pretty awesome and truthful phrase.

I do love the fact that being a part of a live theatre performance is a once in a lifetime event.  No two performances will ever be the same.

Perhaps hate is a strong word… but, it can be hard to see a show come to its close.  I guess that’s natural when you pour yourself into any project or event.  The sprinter who trains and trains for years to run 100 meters once, and there are better odds that he will be disappointed at the finish line than 100% content.  It’s the natural order of things.

I’d like to leave those of you have been following along from afar with a quote from the show:

“Turn thou away from what is wicked, do what is good; seek out peace, and hold it dear above all things; love your clear conscience.”

Tuesdays are the company day off.  I was so grateful for that today.  Things got a little harried for me last week.  I was in tech, working in the office, fighting a cold that has been attacking the company left and right, AND beginning rehearsals for the upcoming John Gabriel Borkman. It was my first stint at being a full-fledged artist/administrator.

I have to confess I’ve had apprehensions about this show.  Those feelings have ebbed and flowed ever since September.  Ultimately, I’m insanely proud of the work we’ve all put in.  I’m honored.  It’s been a long, long process and we’re doing the show in front of paying audience members.

There seems to be good buzz about the show.  I’ve talked to many people who loved how much there is to think about.  Some plan to come again.  Some have seen it twice already.

It’s humbling.

One guy came up to me and said he lost his wife when he was 29 (I’m going to guess he’s in his early 60s)  He was saying the same things the Ploughman says in his head.   He was grateful that we did this project. That’s exactly the kind of impression/effect we wanted to have on people.  I think it’s so important for an audience to share this experience of grieving in a highly unique and safe way that only theatre can provide.

I hope to put some production photos up soon–it’s my last-minute tease so you can catch one (or more) of the four remaining shows.

But I look at those photos in complete awe.  It’s hard for me to believe that I’m on stage amidst the beautiful lights and music and words.  It’s startling.  As an actor, you get so focused on making sure to be in the right spot on stage for the light cue, or caught up in the heat of the moment that it can be difficult to even acknowledge the whole.  Because that “whole,” this ephemeral experience, is what all of this is about.

Talking to audiences after the show reminds me of the whole, which, admittedly, hasn’t been at the forefront of my mind.

So thanks to any of you who came to the show.  It’s our hope that it was a meaningful experience for you.  Your attendance reaffirms and regrounds me more than you can imagine.

Gosh, this feels like a goodbye entry.  Those won’t be for another week.

We’ve still got work to do!

Maybe see you soon?

I hope so.

[Begin shameless plug.]

If you’re planning on attending the production, this Saturday would be a great night. That is, if you’d like to share in some free cake, beverages, and a champagne toast as we commemorate and celebrate our year at The Commonweal. Not only will you get to nibble on finger foods and help yourself to some Chardonnay; you’ll also be able to chat with us and the rest of the Company about the show, and what’s coming up for this season!

[End shameless plug.]

It was interesting to have live bodies in seats after running the show, on its feet, for what seemed like three months. Although, it was likely more like 8 weeks. We weren’t exactly sold out…but those who did choose to attend had nothing but good things to say.

Even though we only racked up around 15 theatre-goers this evening, the show is already touching people in ways that we, or at least I, hadn’t expected.

Here’s to a good run, gentlemen…and lady. I’ve had a wonderful year.

P.S. Just in case you’d like to see it, here’s a video clip of me looking like a goober with an unkempt beard in my first EVER television appearance; a promo spot for the show. Just click this link: KTTC News @ Noon [Thanks to KTTC-Rochester.]

Bridge stone work  Finished dry brush technique for shadowing and texture

But this can often take a long time–even though we’re skipping the text.  We often have to run cues multiple times to coordinate timing and such.  So I thought it would be interesting to see what it may be like to walk through my shoes for a day when it happens to be “Cue-to-Cue.”
Here we go:

6:20 am – I wake up hearing voices.  It’s my fellow apprentices about to embark on their way to Winona for some radio interviews.

6:30 am – I go back to bed.

9:30 am – Walk to work and nearly break out in a sweat because it’s SO GREAT outside!

9:30 – 10:30 am – Check e-mail and go through my to do list; I start sorting tasks, filing articles, work on the program for patrons, do some other odd design jobs

10:45 am – travel to Preston with marketing coordinator.  We’re going to record a 30-second PSA/advertisement for the show.

1:00 pm – after traveling back and working more on design work, I head back to the house and make a sandwhich.

2:00 pm – begin rehearsal and fix a couple little issues, then we try changing about 6 chapters where the Ploughman can’t see the wife’s spirit.  I think it will aid the storytelling and make things more clear.  We run it a couple times and it seems to feel pretty good between all the cast members.

3:00 pm – I work on painting stones for the bridge.  (They’re made with styrofoam and tissue paper – it’s pretty cool).

5:00 pm – I put some pizza in the oven, do some dishes, and begin making a killer box office playlist

6:00 pm – Cue to cue begins

6:06 pm – Carl and I discuss mustache wax for my pathetic facial hair.

7:45 pm – we break from rehearsal.  Irene and Sheldon bust out the key lime pie from the staff fridge.  We finish it.  It is delicious.

It's so good.

7:50 pm – we return to the stage (the lights and sound are BEAUTIFUL – I kid you not).

9:57 pm – The cast begins to go crazy and starts singing songs from “The Little Mermaid” while the tech designers look over some cues

10:15 pm – I leap into my super special red spotlight.  I won’t say anymore, and I’ve probably said too much.

10:52 pm – We are released from rehearsal.

11:15 pm – I make some throat coat tea and begin writing this post.

—————–

I look back and see that this isn’t perhaps the most thrilling day.  Tech week is long.  There are many little pieces that have to come together, but I am continually amazed at how far we’ve come and how much work this show has been.  I have some more odds and ends to do tonight, but I best get some rest.  There’s much more work to do.  Tomorrow we’ve got a tech rehearsal in the afternoon and our first dress in the evening.  This means costumes, hair, and makeup.  I’ve got to try to finagle this mustache and re-learn how to tie bow-ties.  Hopefully it’s just like riding a bike; I have my doubts.

If you had told me in May of last year that I would be closing in on the culmination of one of the most thought-provoking and challenging processes of my life in one of the smallest towns I have ever known, and I would be traveling to Winona with one of my apprentice colleagues to give a radio interview specifically focused on conveying the aforementioned information in less than ten minutes, I would have laughed in your face. Yet, as I sat on the other end of the microphone, chatting with Bob at KWNO in Winona, answering some very challenging questions about our project and my craft in general, I couldn’t help being surprised by the hint of pride I heard in my own voice. This wasn’t that arrogant, self-exalting pride. It was a genuine contentment and happiness that I haven’t ever felt in any relation to my chosen career path.

That was when I knew, for sure, that being at the Commonweal was the right decision. Even though many different situations have pointed to this conclusion this past Winter, Fall, and Spring, none rang truer than this moment. I was up at 5 o’ clock this morning, groggily stumbling to the shower preparing for an unmotivated promotional spot on a backwoods radio station. But in the end, I found out a lot about myself and the immense opportunity I’ve been given through a few challenging questions on a talk-radio show.

I hope our venture into the blogging world has opened some eyes and peaked some interest. If I never take the stage again after March 28, I can say that I’ve been involved in something that brings me pride and certainty in the career I have chosen. But they often say that you don’t choose this business. It chooses you.

That’s right, tech is upon us.  Lights and sound and costumes, oh my!

That means it’s time to get involved, because what we do would mean nothing without folks like you to share the energy and oxygen in the room with us.  Live theatre is unique because it is the only art form that requires both an artist and an art lover to breathe in and out together, to share a mystic and metaphysical connection.

We’re looking forward to seeing you at the theatre!

Check it out!

You all know the feeling.  It’s this gut reaction to something that couldn’t be more right.

Well, we have maybe a handful of them, and we are continuing to move forward toward discovering more.  Come watch, and afterward you and I will exchange notes on which moments you think I’m speaking of.