As promised...
The Riddle Key Luxury Senior Retirement Living Center and Golf Course
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Labels:
condos,
Murderers,
real estate,
Sarah Rudinoff
Murdering, Cooking, Blue Hats
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Labels:
Birdie Blue,
Chuck Smith,
Cuban cooking,
Murderers,
Paseo,
Sarah Rudinoff,
The Cook
From Joanna Horowitz, Communications Associate
This is going to have to be fast because it is crazy in my world. So, in brief:
Murderers is awesome and tickets are going faster than a downhill golf cart (what? is that cheesy?). It plays until Nov. 4, so get on it. In two seconds I am going to post a video spoofing Sarah Rudinoff's character Minka Lupino, a murdering condo saleswoman.
Had a meet and greet for Birdie Blue today and met the director, Chuck Smith who's in residency here but lives in Chicago and works at the renouned Goodman Theatre. In addition to hearing the design concept (a set that will really play up on the imagination-sparking elements of the play and awesome costumes that will ground things in reality), we also got introduced to Chuck's blue fisherman's cap, which he wears when he's working. "If you see me without this hat," he said, "I'm not working."
It's going to start smelling really good around here because we're about to go into previews for The Cook which features, among other things, some delicious Cuban food prepared on stage. Word on the street is you might smell garlic chicken and a lot of citrus wafting from the stage. Personally, I am going to hit up Paseo in Fremont before seeing the show to avoid awkward stomach grumbling.
OK, must go. Be back in a second with that video.
This is going to have to be fast because it is crazy in my world. So, in brief:
Murderers is awesome and tickets are going faster than a downhill golf cart (what? is that cheesy?). It plays until Nov. 4, so get on it. In two seconds I am going to post a video spoofing Sarah Rudinoff's character Minka Lupino, a murdering condo saleswoman.
Had a meet and greet for Birdie Blue today and met the director, Chuck Smith who's in residency here but lives in Chicago and works at the renouned Goodman Theatre. In addition to hearing the design concept (a set that will really play up on the imagination-sparking elements of the play and awesome costumes that will ground things in reality), we also got introduced to Chuck's blue fisherman's cap, which he wears when he's working. "If you see me without this hat," he said, "I'm not working."
It's going to start smelling really good around here because we're about to go into previews for The Cook which features, among other things, some delicious Cuban food prepared on stage. Word on the street is you might smell garlic chicken and a lot of citrus wafting from the stage. Personally, I am going to hit up Paseo in Fremont before seeing the show to avoid awkward stomach grumbling.
OK, must go. Be back in a second with that video.
You're killing me!
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Labels:
Jeffrey Hatcher,
Murderer,
Murderers,
Sarah Rudinoff
From Joanna Horowitz, Communications Associate
Saw Murderers last night. There were a lot of things I loved about the show. Sarah Rudinoff for one (who has been blogging for us). Her comic timing is brilliant. I guess she wasn't a Stranger Genius for nothing. I've convinced her to star in a little film we're making on Friday, so keep an eye out here for that. Also awesome about the show? The funniest "turn your cellphones speech off" I think I've ever heard. I won't ruin the joke, but hopefully you'll enjoy it as much as I did.
Speaking of clever, sometimes we do things in the Communications department for our own weird enjoyment. We did end up using these pictures for for the cover of our student theatre zine OffBook, but mostly we sat in the office chuckling morbidly. Here are my favorites. The rest are here.
Saw Murderers last night. There were a lot of things I loved about the show. Sarah Rudinoff for one (who has been blogging for us). Her comic timing is brilliant. I guess she wasn't a Stranger Genius for nothing. I've convinced her to star in a little film we're making on Friday, so keep an eye out here for that. Also awesome about the show? The funniest "turn your cellphones speech off" I think I've ever heard. I won't ruin the joke, but hopefully you'll enjoy it as much as I did.
Speaking of clever, sometimes we do things in the Communications department for our own weird enjoyment. We did end up using these pictures for for the cover of our student theatre zine OffBook, but mostly we sat in the office chuckling morbidly. Here are my favorites. The rest are here.
20 Buck Chuck
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Labels:
Charles Leggett,
Charles Shaw,
Seattle Rep,
tickets,
Twelfe Night
If you can't read the fine print, starting tomorrow you can buy $20 tickets to any performance in any seat for the extension week of Twelfe Night, in honor of Live Theatre Week. Go to www.seattlerep.org or call the box office at 206-443-2222 for tickets.
Not that I should have to sell you on cheap tickets, but this show is awesome. Shameless lack of modesty:
The critics say:
"Where they strut and gambol, one is happy to follow… David Esbjornson gives this many-faceted comedy a postmodern look, a fine verbal cogency and rigor. " Seattle Times
"...hilarity dances across the stage...fantastic performances." BroadwayHour.com
The audience says:
"It was fantastic... Loved this version of it."
"Magnificent, you must see it."
"The funniest Shakespeare play we've ever seen."
New things are exciting
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Labels:
behind the scenes,
Jess Smith,
Seattle Rep,
video
From Joanna Horowitz, Communications Associate
For one, don't freak out. The blog looks different, but it's all the same, you know, in its heart. We're trying out a new look that looks more like the Seattle Rep homepage. Thoughts?
For two, we just made our first "behind-the-scenes" video. I'd like to share it with you now.
For one, don't freak out. The blog looks different, but it's all the same, you know, in its heart. We're trying out a new look that looks more like the Seattle Rep homepage. Thoughts?
For two, we just made our first "behind-the-scenes" video. I'd like to share it with you now.
Rehearsal: An Actor's Blog, Pt. 2
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Labels:
Murderers,
Rufus Wainwright,
Sarah Rudinoff,
solo performance,
Steven Dietz
From actor Sarah Rudinoff, playing Minka Lupino in Murderers.
I felt bad about forgetting to blog—I was asked to write my thought on rehearsals when I wanted to and then I realized...I forgot to. Funny to add blogging to the to do list. Rehearsals have been going well. We all miss each other because we are not acting together. The three of us have a moment in the beginning together and of course we get a few moments to rehearse it and all we want to do is visit and bond as we wait for the music cue that gets us onstage. Our most amazing stage manager, Cris Reynolds (who is one of the best and really is that most incredible mix of den mother, organizer, ship captain and artist) gives us some leeway to futz around and give pecks on the cheek and talk and make jokes—she knows we need this strange ape like actor grooming ritual with each other. It's funny but true to think that many of us got into this craft, this life, for the pleasure of connecting with people and this camaraderie and community that is created. When I have done a solo show—especially when I have toured a solo show and don't even know any of the crew and stage managemen—I have sat in my dressing room (or the pool table room, or someone's strange office) and joked with myself in the mirror "Have a great show! No you have a great show. Break a leg! I think I will." I think we are all secretly looking forward to our 12-hour-a-day tech rehearsals that start this Sunday because we will all be together for a week and get to see each other.
I had a trip planned to L.A. when I got cast in the show, and I was allowed to go on a shortened version last weekend. It included seeing Rufus Wainwright doing Judy Garland at the Hollywood Bowl, very fun. I got back and had had 2 1/2 days less of rehearsal that everyone else and everyone was off book but me!! I felt ahead before I left and then....I am one page away from this 17 page monologue being in my bones and I am going to memorize the last page before we do a run of the show for an invited crowd at the Rep today. I love these invited crowd days because people come from everywhere in the building to watch, and it is incredible to see how many people work in the building. When you see everyone gather you realize what it takes to run a huge theatre—painters, props masters (who are doing the most fun version of these "cheesy paperbacks" I have on stage), costumes, admin, education, marketing. It is pretty wonderful.
Rehearsals have been very focused and I adore Steven. He doesn't want to just listen to the sound of his voice or pontificate (I have a creeeping suspicion that I am this kind of director actually). He is one of those great directors that understands if he lets you find it then you can recreate it each night in a fresh way, because your brain synapses and nerves and hunches and body language and thoughts and all these little, almost imperceptible, things lead you there. If you are just "following directions" the performance can feel empty and your mind is filled with "then Steven said to go here, then here, then I am supposed to do this," rather then a life lived on stage. He puts these perfect questions in your mind that you have to answer about the character and he supports you in finding the answers—really lovely.
Yesterday we told each other our monologues, just sitting there talking to each other using the text. Great exercise in scale as well as really seeing if you can look someone in the eye and talk to them like it was the first time you were saying these words. Mark and Joan were wonderful, really taking this opportunity to break it apart. Joan is from NYC and is a member of the Actor's Studio (I googled her and then talked to her about it a bit) and you can really tell she is in her element in an exercise like this where you have to just drop it down into the belly and be real with it. We all had tears in our eyes as she was telling certain parts of the story and then she is also incredible funny—I think hearing an older woman swearing and saying exactly what she thinks is so refreshing. Outside of my own living granny who is the most real and amazing woman who doesn't put on airs or play the granny part whatsoever, you rarely see older women in our culture (TV and film come to mind...) who can be raunchy in language and very direct and jealous and sexy. Love that Joan.
Well, I will try to remember to blog more. I think I will bring the computer during tech. Ah...tech. I always tell young actors when they ask me if they should go to LA or how it is working on camera, "If you like tech, you'll love film and television!" It seems like one big lighting set up—I am sure it gets better when you are Meryl Streep. Everything must be better when you are Meryl Streep...that might have to be a song title.
I felt bad about forgetting to blog—I was asked to write my thought on rehearsals when I wanted to and then I realized...I forgot to. Funny to add blogging to the to do list. Rehearsals have been going well. We all miss each other because we are not acting together. The three of us have a moment in the beginning together and of course we get a few moments to rehearse it and all we want to do is visit and bond as we wait for the music cue that gets us onstage. Our most amazing stage manager, Cris Reynolds (who is one of the best and really is that most incredible mix of den mother, organizer, ship captain and artist) gives us some leeway to futz around and give pecks on the cheek and talk and make jokes—she knows we need this strange ape like actor grooming ritual with each other. It's funny but true to think that many of us got into this craft, this life, for the pleasure of connecting with people and this camaraderie and community that is created. When I have done a solo show—especially when I have toured a solo show and don't even know any of the crew and stage managemen—I have sat in my dressing room (or the pool table room, or someone's strange office) and joked with myself in the mirror "Have a great show! No you have a great show. Break a leg! I think I will." I think we are all secretly looking forward to our 12-hour-a-day tech rehearsals that start this Sunday because we will all be together for a week and get to see each other.
I had a trip planned to L.A. when I got cast in the show, and I was allowed to go on a shortened version last weekend. It included seeing Rufus Wainwright doing Judy Garland at the Hollywood Bowl, very fun. I got back and had had 2 1/2 days less of rehearsal that everyone else and everyone was off book but me!! I felt ahead before I left and then....I am one page away from this 17 page monologue being in my bones and I am going to memorize the last page before we do a run of the show for an invited crowd at the Rep today. I love these invited crowd days because people come from everywhere in the building to watch, and it is incredible to see how many people work in the building. When you see everyone gather you realize what it takes to run a huge theatre—painters, props masters (who are doing the most fun version of these "cheesy paperbacks" I have on stage), costumes, admin, education, marketing. It is pretty wonderful.
Rehearsals have been very focused and I adore Steven. He doesn't want to just listen to the sound of his voice or pontificate (I have a creeeping suspicion that I am this kind of director actually). He is one of those great directors that understands if he lets you find it then you can recreate it each night in a fresh way, because your brain synapses and nerves and hunches and body language and thoughts and all these little, almost imperceptible, things lead you there. If you are just "following directions" the performance can feel empty and your mind is filled with "then Steven said to go here, then here, then I am supposed to do this," rather then a life lived on stage. He puts these perfect questions in your mind that you have to answer about the character and he supports you in finding the answers—really lovely.
Yesterday we told each other our monologues, just sitting there talking to each other using the text. Great exercise in scale as well as really seeing if you can look someone in the eye and talk to them like it was the first time you were saying these words. Mark and Joan were wonderful, really taking this opportunity to break it apart. Joan is from NYC and is a member of the Actor's Studio (I googled her and then talked to her about it a bit) and you can really tell she is in her element in an exercise like this where you have to just drop it down into the belly and be real with it. We all had tears in our eyes as she was telling certain parts of the story and then she is also incredible funny—I think hearing an older woman swearing and saying exactly what she thinks is so refreshing. Outside of my own living granny who is the most real and amazing woman who doesn't put on airs or play the granny part whatsoever, you rarely see older women in our culture (TV and film come to mind...) who can be raunchy in language and very direct and jealous and sexy. Love that Joan.
Well, I will try to remember to blog more. I think I will bring the computer during tech. Ah...tech. I always tell young actors when they ask me if they should go to LA or how it is working on camera, "If you like tech, you'll love film and television!" It seems like one big lighting set up—I am sure it gets better when you are Meryl Streep. Everything must be better when you are Meryl Streep...that might have to be a song title.
Rehearsal: An Actor's Blog
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Labels:
Broad Perspective,
monologues,
Murderers,
Sarah Rudinoff,
solo performance,
Steven Dietz
From actor Sarah Rudinoff, playing Minka Lupino in Murderers.
I am really excited to be starting rehearsal again. I haven't been in a play since I closed Wonderful Town at the 5th Ave. in May of 05. I took over a year off to get my real estate business off the ground and consistent, and after a lifetime of rehearsal clothes and Mondays off and vocal rest, I was driving around in my car and talking to people in escrow offices and holding the hands of clients and friends as they made this insane purchase or sale...now I am back to the rehearsal room and it certainly feels like the first days of school.
I have done solo shows before and the rehearsal process can be really daunting: no one to really bounce thoughts off of or shoot the shit with except for the director. Lines become not funny at about day 2 or 3...we are already there! You have this relationship with the director that is unlike a big old play with lots of people running around, they are the only ones you are performing to and for, then you realize- why am I performing? Just tell the story. It is a good reminder.
I remember my first solo show, written after I was already booked to tour it with Theater Simple to the Adelaide Festival in Australia, Broad Perspective (a title I had to come up with before I wrote the show...and soon hated...well actually I came up with Broad which I thought was a clever way of saying I was a woman while opening up the possibilities that the show could be about anything and since I hadn't written it yet, I wanted to give myself a long enough rope...) This title was nixed for being, well, too broad. I chose as my director someone who I worshiped but did not know very well- another interesting choice when I look back at it. Kevin Kent was about the smartest most unexpected performer I had seen and I knew he directed shows. So my early 20's self asked him for coffee, proposed the show and off we went. The first days of rehearsal were horrifying- I was a new writer- is he liking my work? Does he think this is funny? Also I was a new solo performer- was he supposed to laugh? Am I interesting enough to be watched and listened to for over an HOUR?! All in the basement of that building downtown by the market that used to house a movie theatre and a theatre space.
All of these thoughts were making me giggle at my younger self as I sat with a director I didn't know, the lovely Steven Dietz, (who is directing Murderers,) and began a process of unearthing a monologue. I must say that doing someone else's 17-page monologue, which I have never done before, is a lot better in some ways- none of the "why did I write that!?" If something is not working I think my mind can take a load off assured that it couldn't possibly be me.
I love the REP and am reminded what a good and gentle soul David Esbjornson is, and it is already a blast getting to be in an intimate cast, but having the enormous cast of Twelfe Night in the green room with us- including one of my nearest and dearest Nick Garrison who has directed me in solo shows, so I think I may be going to that well when I am in the tearing my hair out and why did I become an actor phase. Oh the angst.....
I am really excited to be starting rehearsal again. I haven't been in a play since I closed Wonderful Town at the 5th Ave. in May of 05. I took over a year off to get my real estate business off the ground and consistent, and after a lifetime of rehearsal clothes and Mondays off and vocal rest, I was driving around in my car and talking to people in escrow offices and holding the hands of clients and friends as they made this insane purchase or sale...now I am back to the rehearsal room and it certainly feels like the first days of school.
I have done solo shows before and the rehearsal process can be really daunting: no one to really bounce thoughts off of or shoot the shit with except for the director. Lines become not funny at about day 2 or 3...we are already there! You have this relationship with the director that is unlike a big old play with lots of people running around, they are the only ones you are performing to and for, then you realize- why am I performing? Just tell the story. It is a good reminder.
I remember my first solo show, written after I was already booked to tour it with Theater Simple to the Adelaide Festival in Australia, Broad Perspective (a title I had to come up with before I wrote the show...and soon hated...well actually I came up with Broad which I thought was a clever way of saying I was a woman while opening up the possibilities that the show could be about anything and since I hadn't written it yet, I wanted to give myself a long enough rope...) This title was nixed for being, well, too broad. I chose as my director someone who I worshiped but did not know very well- another interesting choice when I look back at it. Kevin Kent was about the smartest most unexpected performer I had seen and I knew he directed shows. So my early 20's self asked him for coffee, proposed the show and off we went. The first days of rehearsal were horrifying- I was a new writer- is he liking my work? Does he think this is funny? Also I was a new solo performer- was he supposed to laugh? Am I interesting enough to be watched and listened to for over an HOUR?! All in the basement of that building downtown by the market that used to house a movie theatre and a theatre space.
All of these thoughts were making me giggle at my younger self as I sat with a director I didn't know, the lovely Steven Dietz, (who is directing Murderers,) and began a process of unearthing a monologue. I must say that doing someone else's 17-page monologue, which I have never done before, is a lot better in some ways- none of the "why did I write that!?" If something is not working I think my mind can take a load off assured that it couldn't possibly be me.
I love the REP and am reminded what a good and gentle soul David Esbjornson is, and it is already a blast getting to be in an intimate cast, but having the enormous cast of Twelfe Night in the green room with us- including one of my nearest and dearest Nick Garrison who has directed me in solo shows, so I think I may be going to that well when I am in the tearing my hair out and why did I become an actor phase. Oh the angst.....
Mouth Harp
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Labels:
Charles Leggett,
Harmonica,
Twelfe Night,
Twelfth Night
From Joanna Horowitz, Communications Associate
I was downstairs hanging the Twelfe Night lobby display and from the theatre I could hear Charles Legget playing the harmonica on stage. Harmonica is pretty much my favorite instrument, right before banjo, but perhaps after the keytar. I don't know exactly what part the harmonica plays in the show, but it sounded awesome.
I was downstairs hanging the Twelfe Night lobby display and from the theatre I could hear Charles Legget playing the harmonica on stage. Harmonica is pretty much my favorite instrument, right before banjo, but perhaps after the keytar. I don't know exactly what part the harmonica plays in the show, but it sounded awesome.
Magic!
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Labels:
David Esbjornson,
Seattle Rep,
Shakespeare,
Twelfe Night,
Twelfth Night
I have a couple of minutes free, so I am going to pop into Twelfe Night tech. Tech (the technical rehearsals for a show, in which all of the lights, set, costumes, magical effects are put together) at the Rep is open to anyone who works here, but I usually wait until everything is put together before I see the show to, you know, save the theatre magic. But I sacrificed my savoring for you. Feel special.
Ok, so I am here, in the balcony. It appears nothing is happening. I think they're on a break. Just my luck. There are two guys, not actors, standing on stage. One offstage is operating an elevator that is raising and lowering a platform on stage. Ok, that's a little magical. One guy gets on the platform, which is exciting.
The set is spectatcular. It's reminicient of the hull of a ship, but it twists and rolls across the stage to the edge where it splinters off. Everything is blue and green.
Back from break. The stage manager asks the actors to get in position. The house lights go off and the lighting is suddenly a magnificant sunrise. Magic! The actor playing Sebastian does the end of a monologue. Olivia comes on in a giant purple dress. Fabian comes on in a leather skirt, black stockings and tiny black pumps. David, the director, asks Nick, playing Fabian: " How much traction do you have in those little pumps?"
My ten minutes are up. I have concluded: this show is going to be not your usual take on Shakespeare. And I have just remembered that I only have one week to find a dress for our black tie opening night party, so I better go. More soon.
Ok, so I am here, in the balcony. It appears nothing is happening. I think they're on a break. Just my luck. There are two guys, not actors, standing on stage. One offstage is operating an elevator that is raising and lowering a platform on stage. Ok, that's a little magical. One guy gets on the platform, which is exciting.
The set is spectatcular. It's reminicient of the hull of a ship, but it twists and rolls across the stage to the edge where it splinters off. Everything is blue and green.
Back from break. The stage manager asks the actors to get in position. The house lights go off and the lighting is suddenly a magnificant sunrise. Magic! The actor playing Sebastian does the end of a monologue. Olivia comes on in a giant purple dress. Fabian comes on in a leather skirt, black stockings and tiny black pumps. David, the director, asks Nick, playing Fabian: " How much traction do you have in those little pumps?"
My ten minutes are up. I have concluded: this show is going to be not your usual take on Shakespeare. And I have just remembered that I only have one week to find a dress for our black tie opening night party, so I better go. More soon.
The A-List
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Ok, folks, I'm back. It's hard to believe. I mean it's hard to believe the season is getting ready to start because that begs the question: what happened to summer?
I'm not too upset about diving headfirst into our first show because it happens to be Shakespeare's Twelfe Night (no, I didn't spell that wrong, we are using the folio spelling of "Twelfth"). David Esbjornson is directing and a whole load of local actors are currently downstairs rehearsing: Charles Legget, David Pichette, Nick Garrison, MJ Sieber, Mari Nelson, Brad Farwell.
We had our meet and greet (the time for the company to hear about the design concepts of the show and the time for me to take notes to report back to you), and I learned the following:
1. There may be flying. Like humans, airborne, possibly scantily clad.
2. At least one costume was inspired by Marilyn Manson.
3. The set will have some really cool twisty metal.
4. But before you go thinking this is some sort of goth redition, know the major design inspiration was Maxfield Parish.
5. So in a nutshell, don't expect traditional Shakespeare, but do expect a comedy with a dark side.
This season's is going to be great, and you can look forward to this from me: witty blogs (of course), behind-the-scenes YouTube videos, possibly pictures of sparkly gowns (Twelfe Night opening is black tie), alcohol consumption (of course), and hopefully some guest bloggers. I'll be asking some the amazing actors and artists we have lined up to grace the stage. Tina Landau for one, Steven Dietz, Robert Schenkkan, Suzanne Bouchard, Mark Anders and—just announced and terribly exciting—the hilarious Sarah Rudinoff will be in Murderers
This blog is starting to sound like US Weekly or something. I better go roam the halls and pray for someone in a scandalous state of deshabillé.
I'm not too upset about diving headfirst into our first show because it happens to be Shakespeare's Twelfe Night (no, I didn't spell that wrong, we are using the folio spelling of "Twelfth"). David Esbjornson is directing and a whole load of local actors are currently downstairs rehearsing: Charles Legget, David Pichette, Nick Garrison, MJ Sieber, Mari Nelson, Brad Farwell.
We had our meet and greet (the time for the company to hear about the design concepts of the show and the time for me to take notes to report back to you), and I learned the following:
1. There may be flying. Like humans, airborne, possibly scantily clad.
2. At least one costume was inspired by Marilyn Manson.
3. The set will have some really cool twisty metal.
4. But before you go thinking this is some sort of goth redition, know the major design inspiration was Maxfield Parish.
5. So in a nutshell, don't expect traditional Shakespeare, but do expect a comedy with a dark side.
This season's is going to be great, and you can look forward to this from me: witty blogs (of course), behind-the-scenes YouTube videos, possibly pictures of sparkly gowns (Twelfe Night opening is black tie), alcohol consumption (of course), and hopefully some guest bloggers. I'll be asking some the amazing actors and artists we have lined up to grace the stage. Tina Landau for one, Steven Dietz, Robert Schenkkan, Suzanne Bouchard, Mark Anders and—just announced and terribly exciting—the hilarious Sarah Rudinoff will be in Murderers
This blog is starting to sound like US Weekly or something. I better go roam the halls and pray for someone in a scandalous state of deshabillé.
Peep Show
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Labels:
David Esbjornson,
Shakespeare,
The Breach,
Thom Pain,
Todd Jefferson Moore,
Twelfth Night
Wednesday night I stuck around for the annual board meeting that includes a few preview performances from next season's plays. The highlight of the night for me was when, during Artistic Director David Esbjornson's speech about the successes of this season, Todd Jefferson Moore entered looking a lot like this:
If you saw Thom Pain: based on nothing in October, you might recognize the show's needy nihilistic protagonist (or was it antagonist?) who managed to piss off legions of theatregoers in a play that I absolutely loved. Some people didn't: having this guy up in your face for over an hour making you question if your life is worth anything is a little challenging.
Anyway, Todd as Thom showed up and confronted David as to why his show wasn't getting a repeat in the next season. He led the board members in a call and response session and then suggested a Thom Pain Christmas show. (brilliant!) I laughed so hard I was almost crying. I am already mentally writing the script for An Existential Holiday. Think it could sell? Don't worry, it's not actually going to happen. This holiday season we'll be spreading the holiday cheer with a John Denver retrospective called Back Home Again.
The rest of the (real) preview performances were pretty awesome. Twelfth Night, which we're opening the season with, is going to be really fun and dark. David called it "Shakespeare's farewell to comedy," meaning it has great wit and some of his best clowns hamming it up, but also some deeper, biting looks at love.
I was especially excited to see a reading from The Breach, a new play in response to Hurricane Katrina. The play was very uniquely written by three different playwrights and weaves together three stories that each touch on a different aspect of the disaster, but in a very personal, yet highly theatrical way. I wasn't sure from reading the script how it would play live, but I think it's going to be fascinating, touching, and ultimately a piece that will inspire a lot of conversation.
The three playwrights are also here this week for a workshop of the piece. At the meeting, they talked for a bit about the process, describing it as a marriage. Like all marriages, sometimes it's really hard, said the youngest of the playwrights, recent Yale School of Drama MFA grad Tarell McCraney. "Sometimes I don't want to be married to Joe Sutton," he said. (Sutton, by the way, wrote Voir Dire. The third playwright is Catherine Filloux.
The way the piece came together is fascinating, but in the interest of blog length (and the fact that I am three minutes away from lunch), I will save that for another posting.
And the sun appears to be making a comeback. Off I go into it.
Get intimate with Phylicia Rashad
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Labels:
A Raisin in the Sun,
Kenny Leon,
P. Diddy,
Phylicia Rashad
Two posts in one day? Really? Indeed. I have the inside scoop for you on an upcoming event. Phylicia Rashad (AKA Mrs. Huxtable, and I hope she's not reading this because I'm sure she just loves to be referred to as that) is coming back to Seattle Rep for a one-night "Inside the Actor's Studio" type event. June 11 at 8 p.m. she'll be interviewed by superstar director Kenny Leon (he directed Puff Daddy/Diddy/whatever in A Raisin in the Sun on Broadway), and then you'll have a chance to ask her questions as well (what's Bill Cosby really like? Did he get you the J-E-L-L-O hookup?).
I had the great fortune of meeting Ms. Rashad, and she is probably the most eloquent, graceful women I've ever talked to. This event is also a benefit for the Rep's amazing education programs, so your ticket price ($75) supports local students AND gets you into a post-show champagne celebration. If there's champagne, there's a good chance I'll be there. You can tell me how much you love the blog, and I'll autograph your blackberry.
More information is here. If you're sold already, you can call the box office right this minute (unless you're reading this in the middle of the night) at 206-443-2222.
Tickets are really limited because we're holding the event in our smaller Leo K Theatre to make it a more intimate affair. Need more convicing?
Phylicia:
Kenny:
Hot!
I had the great fortune of meeting Ms. Rashad, and she is probably the most eloquent, graceful women I've ever talked to. This event is also a benefit for the Rep's amazing education programs, so your ticket price ($75) supports local students AND gets you into a post-show champagne celebration. If there's champagne, there's a good chance I'll be there. You can tell me how much you love the blog, and I'll autograph your blackberry.
More information is here. If you're sold already, you can call the box office right this minute (unless you're reading this in the middle of the night) at 206-443-2222.
Tickets are really limited because we're holding the event in our smaller Leo K Theatre to make it a more intimate affair. Need more convicing?
Phylicia:
Kenny:
Hot!
Bench Press
|
Labels:
Bench,
Pie,
Seattle Center,
Seattle Rep
Things have been slow in blogland. It's sort of like summer break around here except instead of drinking mai tais we're all still working, albeit at a more relaxed pace. Since the season has been winding down, our shop has been involved in a little extra project building this bench.
We built it because, well, the Seattle Center asked us. They asked all of the campus tenants to design and build benches. They gave us dimensions, but every bench will look completely different and be made of a different material. Ours happens to be metal. No word if it'll be a permanent fixture or just a summer thing, and we don't know where it's going on the campus grounds, but keep an eye out.
We dragged it out in front of the theater for a goofy photo shoot yesterday. You can see it's "interactivity." Who doesn't love sticking their faces in things?
Points for anyone who knows what play this season inspired this photo shoot.
We built it because, well, the Seattle Center asked us. They asked all of the campus tenants to design and build benches. They gave us dimensions, but every bench will look completely different and be made of a different material. Ours happens to be metal. No word if it'll be a permanent fixture or just a summer thing, and we don't know where it's going on the campus grounds, but keep an eye out.
We dragged it out in front of the theater for a goofy photo shoot yesterday. You can see it's "interactivity." Who doesn't love sticking their faces in things?
Points for anyone who knows what play this season inspired this photo shoot.
Final Leo K. slot filled for next season
|
Labels:
arts,
Cheryl West,
Seattle,
subscription,
theater
From Joanna Horowitz, Communications Department
I forgot to mention that the TBA we had in the upcoming season has been filled by Cheryl L. West's piece Birdie Blue, a lovely (albeit frank) look at love, marriage and the passing of time. Cheryl is a Seattle playwright, in fact her piece Addy: An American Girl Story is actually playing right now at Seattle Children's Theatre. She also penned Jar the Floor, Holiday Heart, and Before It Hits Home.
The addition of Birdie Blue has rearranged the order of the Leo K season a bit. Visit the Rep's website for all the details. By the way, if you're currently a subscriber, the renewal deadline is April 27. If you're wanting to start subscribing (AKA be totally cool), you can do it anytime (you just won't know your seats until early this summer). Just call our box office at 206-443-2222. I won't bore you with all the benefits, but I'll tell you my personal favorite is the free cocktail you get at the Rep's bar. You know me, if I can reference a martini in a blog, it's a good day.
I forgot to mention that the TBA we had in the upcoming season has been filled by Cheryl L. West's piece Birdie Blue, a lovely (albeit frank) look at love, marriage and the passing of time. Cheryl is a Seattle playwright, in fact her piece Addy: An American Girl Story is actually playing right now at Seattle Children's Theatre. She also penned Jar the Floor, Holiday Heart, and Before It Hits Home.
The addition of Birdie Blue has rearranged the order of the Leo K season a bit. Visit the Rep's website for all the details. By the way, if you're currently a subscriber, the renewal deadline is April 27. If you're wanting to start subscribing (AKA be totally cool), you can do it anytime (you just won't know your seats until early this summer). Just call our box office at 206-443-2222. I won't bore you with all the benefits, but I'll tell you my personal favorite is the free cocktail you get at the Rep's bar. You know me, if I can reference a martini in a blog, it's a good day.
Home stretch
|
Labels:
arts,
August Wilson,
Evergreen,
Phylicia Rashad,
Rachel Corrie,
Radio Golf,
Seattle,
theater,
Whoopi Goldberg
From Joanna Horowitz, Communications Department
It's a weird time around here. The season is winding down, the Rachel Corrie team is in Olympia for a weekend of shows in Evergreen's Experimental Theater (FYI: April 27 & 28 at 8 pm and April 28 & 29 at 2 pm; tickets online at BuyOlympia.com or call 360-876-6651).
Anyway, it's quiet around here. I've been doing some very exciting archiving, a little myspace page updating, a little brainstorming about next season. In all this dim of activity in the admin offices, it's strange to remember that there are still two huge shows happening downstairs. I got to work today and realized there's only a week and a half left in this season. May 6 is the last day for both My Name is Rachel Corrie (which is still generating controversy—director Braden Abraham was just interviewed on Al-Jazeera) and Gem of the Ocean (which is still generating audience exclamations of, "That was fantastic!") I just heard that the Oregon Shakespeare Festival is also doing Gem of the Ocean and our production is a half an hour shorter. Phylicia Rashad knows how to keep the pace up—must be all those years on The Cosby Show.
If you haven't seen Gem of the Ocean yet, Friday would be a good time. April 27 is national August Wilson Day (it would have been Mr. Wilson's 62nd birthday). If you happen to be in New York, head down to Bryant Park at 10 a.m. for the celebration kick off with Whoopi Goldberg, Tonya Pinkins and Tamara Tunie. Radio Golf (which we did last season) is also about to open on Broadway. It's essentially our production (same set, costumes, majority of the same actors), which is pretty exciting.
Speaking of exciting, I think there might be some cinnamon rolls in our production department. It's crazy around here.
It's a weird time around here. The season is winding down, the Rachel Corrie team is in Olympia for a weekend of shows in Evergreen's Experimental Theater (FYI: April 27 & 28 at 8 pm and April 28 & 29 at 2 pm; tickets online at BuyOlympia.com or call 360-876-6651).
Anyway, it's quiet around here. I've been doing some very exciting archiving, a little myspace page updating, a little brainstorming about next season. In all this dim of activity in the admin offices, it's strange to remember that there are still two huge shows happening downstairs. I got to work today and realized there's only a week and a half left in this season. May 6 is the last day for both My Name is Rachel Corrie (which is still generating controversy—director Braden Abraham was just interviewed on Al-Jazeera) and Gem of the Ocean (which is still generating audience exclamations of, "That was fantastic!") I just heard that the Oregon Shakespeare Festival is also doing Gem of the Ocean and our production is a half an hour shorter. Phylicia Rashad knows how to keep the pace up—must be all those years on The Cosby Show.
If you haven't seen Gem of the Ocean yet, Friday would be a good time. April 27 is national August Wilson Day (it would have been Mr. Wilson's 62nd birthday). If you happen to be in New York, head down to Bryant Park at 10 a.m. for the celebration kick off with Whoopi Goldberg, Tonya Pinkins and Tamara Tunie. Radio Golf (which we did last season) is also about to open on Broadway. It's essentially our production (same set, costumes, majority of the same actors), which is pretty exciting.
Speaking of exciting, I think there might be some cinnamon rolls in our production department. It's crazy around here.
Performance: An Actor's Blog
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Labels:
Marya Sea Kaminski,
Rachel Corrie,
Seattle,
theater
From actor Marya Sea Kaminski, playing Rachel in My Name is Rachel Corrie.
April 10th.
Dear Rachel Corrie.
Happy Birthday.
Aries. The Ram.
I am so glad you were born.
Which is what I say to all my best friends on their birthdays.
Glad. Certainly. Does not say it.
I want to wrap all of my thanks. In parchment with poems and tie it with the boy scout belt that I stole from my brother when I was in the seventh grade.
I want to thank you.
For introducing me to bravery.
Not the vaguery of bravery. Not the abstract concept reserved for difficult situations.
Real bravery. Bravery reserved for people who will themselves into their hometowns. Which I could never do.
Thank you. Thankyouthankyouthankyou.
For teaching me how to talk to a room full of people without taking their temperatures first. To speak the truth without being afraid. To follow my gut. To deciding every night, over and over again, in every show, at 7:42pm every day for the last month... to decide. To be. An artist. And a writer. And for telling me not to give a shit if I'm mediocre.
I'm in the phase of this production when I cannot help but quote the play at every turn. So forgive me while I offer your words back to you. As some contemporary sort of blog sacrifice. As some testament to the way you continue to speak loudly, and sometimes with severe superbowl fumbles, through me every night.
Thank you for giving me this moment. On the eve of my thirtieth birthday.
To remember what it is like to be twenty three. And to throw my body around with exuberant flirtation. To speak what you feel in your gut is truth, and haven't met enough men or newspapers to second guess it.
This is no accident. You. Your birthday. You.
Thank you for walking me to a place, word by word, where I can cry every night. For the murderous climate of the world and for my family.
Rachel, your family misses you so much. It stops my breath every time I hear them speak of your death, or of the following months. At a talkback last week, Sarah talked about watching your mom sitting in a Starbucks a few weeks after you'd been killed, and realizing that their lives will never, ever be the same.
Of course not.
Of course.
After my brother Adam died in 2002, I had a similar realization. Not in sadness. Of course, his death left a hole in me that will remain vacant and inhabitable for the rest of my days. But not because I am wounded. But because I am so, so full of him. And his joy and insight and restlessness. I will never be the same because he shifted my entire understanding of the world in a profound way. And now he is gone. And I am shifted.
I can't help but think Sarah is peppered with the same resonance.
The world will never be the same for having lost you.
But, mostly, we will never be the same for having had you.
You have reminded me what the smell of rain is.
Not rain on sidewalks, or cleaning out gutters.
But real rain.
You have reminded me why I love to ride the bus.
Because no matter how tired or battered or annoyed I am, we are all on the bus together. Going about our small days.
In your essays, you talk about your butterfly. That you chase with a hat pin. You talk about trying to get other people to chase your butterfly with you. But they can't. Because they have their own to pursue. Their own fluttering greatness that leads them forward... onto the bus, and into their day, and through their heartbreak, and beyond their day jobs.
Every night, before I go onstage, I conjure that. I conjure the butterfly in my chest. In the middle of my chest, my heartspace, that is flapping delicately against the whirlwind and leading me forward. On to the stage. Into the audience.
When I look out into the audience for the first time every night, and get ready to invite them into your show, I imagine their butterflies. Pounding loud and delicate in their chests. The butterflies that have lead them here to witness, or argue, or experience you.
I open every night to a field of butterflies, turning off their cell phones and folding up their programs.
Thank you. For reminding me that we are all the same. We are all after the same thing.
And thank you for making me listen to my music more deeply. And for challenging me to dance at every turn. And for making me imagine what it is to swim in Puget Sound naked in the night. And for making me imagine the horrors of Rafah. To bring it home. To envision what it would be for all of my friends, and my family, and the gregarious black boy who bags my groceries at the Safeway... to envision what it would be to have our lives ripped out from under us. To have sniper towers and tanks instead of cell phone towers and taxi cabs defining the perimeters of my neighborhood.
I can't believe you. I can't believe your guts.
To give up everything. And by everything, I don't mean your young and vibrant life which is the sacrifice that so many people jump to. But to give up your world in Olympia, you amazingly nurturing family, your quilt of good friends, your unquestionable promise, to go and see what the world is really like. Beyond Seattle. Beyond happy hours and self-congratulatory fundraisers. For actually going out and witnessing the actions that actually define the world we live in.
I can't believe that you were only twenty-three.
My ripe and tender twenty-nine bows down, and gathers the stones you have dropped.
Happy birthday, Rachel Corrie.
I am so glad that you were born.
April 10th.
Dear Rachel Corrie.
Happy Birthday.
Aries. The Ram.
I am so glad you were born.
Which is what I say to all my best friends on their birthdays.
Glad. Certainly. Does not say it.
I want to wrap all of my thanks. In parchment with poems and tie it with the boy scout belt that I stole from my brother when I was in the seventh grade.
I want to thank you.
For introducing me to bravery.
Not the vaguery of bravery. Not the abstract concept reserved for difficult situations.
Real bravery. Bravery reserved for people who will themselves into their hometowns. Which I could never do.
Thank you. Thankyouthankyouthankyou.
For teaching me how to talk to a room full of people without taking their temperatures first. To speak the truth without being afraid. To follow my gut. To deciding every night, over and over again, in every show, at 7:42pm every day for the last month... to decide. To be. An artist. And a writer. And for telling me not to give a shit if I'm mediocre.
I'm in the phase of this production when I cannot help but quote the play at every turn. So forgive me while I offer your words back to you. As some contemporary sort of blog sacrifice. As some testament to the way you continue to speak loudly, and sometimes with severe superbowl fumbles, through me every night.
Thank you for giving me this moment. On the eve of my thirtieth birthday.
To remember what it is like to be twenty three. And to throw my body around with exuberant flirtation. To speak what you feel in your gut is truth, and haven't met enough men or newspapers to second guess it.
This is no accident. You. Your birthday. You.
Thank you for walking me to a place, word by word, where I can cry every night. For the murderous climate of the world and for my family.
Rachel, your family misses you so much. It stops my breath every time I hear them speak of your death, or of the following months. At a talkback last week, Sarah talked about watching your mom sitting in a Starbucks a few weeks after you'd been killed, and realizing that their lives will never, ever be the same.
Of course not.
Of course.
After my brother Adam died in 2002, I had a similar realization. Not in sadness. Of course, his death left a hole in me that will remain vacant and inhabitable for the rest of my days. But not because I am wounded. But because I am so, so full of him. And his joy and insight and restlessness. I will never be the same because he shifted my entire understanding of the world in a profound way. And now he is gone. And I am shifted.
I can't help but think Sarah is peppered with the same resonance.
The world will never be the same for having lost you.
But, mostly, we will never be the same for having had you.
You have reminded me what the smell of rain is.
Not rain on sidewalks, or cleaning out gutters.
But real rain.
You have reminded me why I love to ride the bus.
Because no matter how tired or battered or annoyed I am, we are all on the bus together. Going about our small days.
In your essays, you talk about your butterfly. That you chase with a hat pin. You talk about trying to get other people to chase your butterfly with you. But they can't. Because they have their own to pursue. Their own fluttering greatness that leads them forward... onto the bus, and into their day, and through their heartbreak, and beyond their day jobs.
Every night, before I go onstage, I conjure that. I conjure the butterfly in my chest. In the middle of my chest, my heartspace, that is flapping delicately against the whirlwind and leading me forward. On to the stage. Into the audience.
When I look out into the audience for the first time every night, and get ready to invite them into your show, I imagine their butterflies. Pounding loud and delicate in their chests. The butterflies that have lead them here to witness, or argue, or experience you.
I open every night to a field of butterflies, turning off their cell phones and folding up their programs.
Thank you. For reminding me that we are all the same. We are all after the same thing.
And thank you for making me listen to my music more deeply. And for challenging me to dance at every turn. And for making me imagine what it is to swim in Puget Sound naked in the night. And for making me imagine the horrors of Rafah. To bring it home. To envision what it would be for all of my friends, and my family, and the gregarious black boy who bags my groceries at the Safeway... to envision what it would be to have our lives ripped out from under us. To have sniper towers and tanks instead of cell phone towers and taxi cabs defining the perimeters of my neighborhood.
I can't believe you. I can't believe your guts.
To give up everything. And by everything, I don't mean your young and vibrant life which is the sacrifice that so many people jump to. But to give up your world in Olympia, you amazingly nurturing family, your quilt of good friends, your unquestionable promise, to go and see what the world is really like. Beyond Seattle. Beyond happy hours and self-congratulatory fundraisers. For actually going out and witnessing the actions that actually define the world we live in.
I can't believe that you were only twenty-three.
My ripe and tender twenty-nine bows down, and gathers the stones you have dropped.
Happy birthday, Rachel Corrie.
I am so glad that you were born.
Piece of cake
|
Labels:
Gem of the Ocean,
Phylicia Rashad,
Seattle,
theater
From Joanna Horowitz, Communications Department
Opening night. I am emerging from the Kleenex-strewn haze of a cold. Was going to blog from home on Monday, in between tea and DVDs of Six Feet Under, but wasn't sure what kind of delirious drivel would come out of my (very low-grade, don't worry mom) fever. So, now that I am on the mend, I thought it might be a good time to reach out and, you know, touch someone. Coincidentally, Marya also sent over a blog today, so you're in for a whole lot of blog-y goodness.
So, tonight we open Gem of the Ocean. I saw it last night in previews. I was a little wary because I wasn't sure if I would be able to stay focused in my sniffly state, but I was completely engaged. Really, you have to believe that I say these things truthfully and not because I work here. Just know that I'm not a liar, so if I don't like a play, I'm going to write, "I'm so busy, I didn't have time to see it, but I heard it was awesome!" So, I can say in all honestly, that this is a really beautiful, excellently paced (i.e. not boring), surprisingly funny piece. The acting is really solid, and the actors (with Ms. Rashad's direction) have made some really interesting choices that bring astounding depth to the characters. The music is awesome. The writing, of course, is so eloquently woven. The friend I saw the show with said afterwards, "I don't know how August Wilson did it. Every line moves the story forward in such a beautiful way."
And, as always, you don't have to take my word for it. We send out surveys to our preview audiences to see what the initial response to the show is. The feedback has been really positive. Such as:
“Aunt Ester will be for me one of the great characters of American theater... [the play] is hauntingly beautiful...historically stark with invaluable lessons about the fragility and preciousness of freedom in our own time.”
“We told our family about our enjoyable evening at the Rep. It was nice to finish the August Wilson cycle with such a good production. The play stands well on its own but if you've seen any of Wilson's other plays it has a feel of family.”
“Lively and quite entertaining - very thought provoking”
“Superb actors”
“The production is amazing and profoundly moving. The acting is extremely fine. The play is stunning.”
“Excellent! A fine theatrical experience.”
“I thought Phylicia Rashad's production was superb! Very few actors or directors could do it so well. I hope she does more at the Rep. It was fabulous.”
Personally, I am grateful to Gem of the Ocean above all because it meant in celebration of the opening each department at work got a cake, and all day people have been wandering around in sugared-up stupor declaring, "The carrot is better than the white chocolate mousse!" Ok, I'm being glib. But you only be intellectually stimulating for so long. Someone get me a fork.
Opening night. I am emerging from the Kleenex-strewn haze of a cold. Was going to blog from home on Monday, in between tea and DVDs of Six Feet Under, but wasn't sure what kind of delirious drivel would come out of my (very low-grade, don't worry mom) fever. So, now that I am on the mend, I thought it might be a good time to reach out and, you know, touch someone. Coincidentally, Marya also sent over a blog today, so you're in for a whole lot of blog-y goodness.
So, tonight we open Gem of the Ocean. I saw it last night in previews. I was a little wary because I wasn't sure if I would be able to stay focused in my sniffly state, but I was completely engaged. Really, you have to believe that I say these things truthfully and not because I work here. Just know that I'm not a liar, so if I don't like a play, I'm going to write, "I'm so busy, I didn't have time to see it, but I heard it was awesome!" So, I can say in all honestly, that this is a really beautiful, excellently paced (i.e. not boring), surprisingly funny piece. The acting is really solid, and the actors (with Ms. Rashad's direction) have made some really interesting choices that bring astounding depth to the characters. The music is awesome. The writing, of course, is so eloquently woven. The friend I saw the show with said afterwards, "I don't know how August Wilson did it. Every line moves the story forward in such a beautiful way."
And, as always, you don't have to take my word for it. We send out surveys to our preview audiences to see what the initial response to the show is. The feedback has been really positive. Such as:
“Aunt Ester will be for me one of the great characters of American theater... [the play] is hauntingly beautiful...historically stark with invaluable lessons about the fragility and preciousness of freedom in our own time.”
“We told our family about our enjoyable evening at the Rep. It was nice to finish the August Wilson cycle with such a good production. The play stands well on its own but if you've seen any of Wilson's other plays it has a feel of family.”
“Lively and quite entertaining - very thought provoking”
“Superb actors”
“The production is amazing and profoundly moving. The acting is extremely fine. The play is stunning.”
“Excellent! A fine theatrical experience.”
“I thought Phylicia Rashad's production was superb! Very few actors or directors could do it so well. I hope she does more at the Rep. It was fabulous.”
Personally, I am grateful to Gem of the Ocean above all because it meant in celebration of the opening each department at work got a cake, and all day people have been wandering around in sugared-up stupor declaring, "The carrot is better than the white chocolate mousse!" Ok, I'm being glib. But you only be intellectually stimulating for so long. Someone get me a fork.
Smells Like Teen Spirit
|
Labels:
education,
Fire on the Mountain,
interns,
Lorenzo Pisoni,
Rachel Corrie,
Seattle,
The Great Gatsby,
theater
From Joanna Horowitz, Communications Department
I just came back from taking photos of students from three local high schools warming up for their show tonight, Teenspeak: My Name Is (for details, see the blog below "Thinking, Talking"). I don't feel right posting pictures of our high schoolers (although I can testify they were giggly then they were impressively focused), but I do feel fantastic posting this picture of our Education Programs Manager Scott Koh, taken just prior to warm-ups, which he clearly didn't need.
Scott might be making that face because the education team has got a bit of the crazy, winding down a really intense year. This particular Teenspeak project, under the guidance of Scott's fellow Education Programs Manager Fran Kao, has been a year in the making and now will be debuted and closed in less than 40 minutes in one night. Without any breather, they all launch into Drama Intensive, a collaboration with The Center School. Playwriting students work with Education Director Andrea Allen to help shape a script (this year's is an adaptation of the restoration comedy School for Scandal) then switch gears to become the actors while another class designs sets and costumes. I was involved in the marketing last year for the circus-y "Pants on Fire." It was fun and exhausting, and I think I made that Scott Koh face more than once.
It is cool, though, with so many education programs happening, there's always a sense of vitality around here. We have a new crop of post-college interns every year (you can read their blog here), high school interns at different points in the season, and very often some students in one of the rehearsal spaces preparing for something under the direction of one of our teaching artists. We pack out the student matinees, which, for shows like Fire on the Mountain, become something of a rock concert (you should have heard the girls squeal over hottie Lorenzo Pisoni in The Great Gatsby, of course I did too, so that's not really a high school thing). It's just a nice reminder that these are (we hope) the next generation of arts patrons; some are already. The sustainability of theater really depends on them. Scary? Yes, sometimes, when you're teaching a class and can't compete with iPods and cell phones, but also exciting. When they're committed, they are committed and producing really amazing stuff.
Speaking of, time to go down and watch the My Name Is Project. Would it be horrible to have a cocktail at the bar downstairs before I go? I want to try out the new Gem of the Ocean specialty drink (a gimlet, called the Aught 4). Ok, ok, I'll wait until after.
I just came back from taking photos of students from three local high schools warming up for their show tonight, Teenspeak: My Name Is (for details, see the blog below "Thinking, Talking"). I don't feel right posting pictures of our high schoolers (although I can testify they were giggly then they were impressively focused), but I do feel fantastic posting this picture of our Education Programs Manager Scott Koh, taken just prior to warm-ups, which he clearly didn't need.
Scott might be making that face because the education team has got a bit of the crazy, winding down a really intense year. This particular Teenspeak project, under the guidance of Scott's fellow Education Programs Manager Fran Kao, has been a year in the making and now will be debuted and closed in less than 40 minutes in one night. Without any breather, they all launch into Drama Intensive, a collaboration with The Center School. Playwriting students work with Education Director Andrea Allen to help shape a script (this year's is an adaptation of the restoration comedy School for Scandal) then switch gears to become the actors while another class designs sets and costumes. I was involved in the marketing last year for the circus-y "Pants on Fire." It was fun and exhausting, and I think I made that Scott Koh face more than once.
It is cool, though, with so many education programs happening, there's always a sense of vitality around here. We have a new crop of post-college interns every year (you can read their blog here), high school interns at different points in the season, and very often some students in one of the rehearsal spaces preparing for something under the direction of one of our teaching artists. We pack out the student matinees, which, for shows like Fire on the Mountain, become something of a rock concert (you should have heard the girls squeal over hottie Lorenzo Pisoni in The Great Gatsby, of course I did too, so that's not really a high school thing). It's just a nice reminder that these are (we hope) the next generation of arts patrons; some are already. The sustainability of theater really depends on them. Scary? Yes, sometimes, when you're teaching a class and can't compete with iPods and cell phones, but also exciting. When they're committed, they are committed and producing really amazing stuff.
Speaking of, time to go down and watch the My Name Is Project. Would it be horrible to have a cocktail at the bar downstairs before I go? I want to try out the new Gem of the Ocean specialty drink (a gimlet, called the Aught 4). Ok, ok, I'll wait until after.
Rachel Corrie Extended
|
Labels:
Evergreen,
Olympia,
Rachel Corrie,
theater
Because the show has been close to sold out every night, we've added seven performances of My Name is Rachel Corrie. The show goes to Olympia after its originally scheduled closing date (April 22), and then will return to Seattle Rep May 2. It will play through May 6. Specific dates and times are here.
How's that for short and sweet? (the blog, that is.)
How's that for short and sweet? (the blog, that is.)
2007-08 in 10 easy steps
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Labels:
arts,
By the Waters of Babylon,
how? how? why? why?,
John Denver,
Murderers,
Seattle,
subscription,
The Breach,
The Cook,
The Cure at Troy,
The Imaginary Invalid,
theater,
Twelfth Night
From Joanna Horowitz, Communications Department
I have a goal to try to write shorter blog entries. I know I can be a little long-winded, but I mean really what do you have to do on a Friday at work besides read my (brilliant) musings? Anyway, here you go, short and sweet, our recently announced 2007-08 season. For the details I am omitting for the sake of goal achievement, go here.
In the Bagley Wright Theatre
Twelfth Night by William Shakespeare (Drunks and cross-dressing!)
The Cook by Eduardo Machado (Cuba!)
The Breach by Catherine Filloux, Tarell McCraney & Joe Sutton (Hurricane Katrina...which I think should be sans exclamation point)
The Imaginary Invalid by Molière (Satire on the medical profession!)
The Cure at Troy by Seamus Heaney (Greek adventure!--I'm hoping for hot, bare-chested men)
In the Leo K. Theatre
By the Waters of Babylon by Robert Schenkkan (Cuba pt 2!)
how? how? why? why? by Kevin Kling (Hilarious!)
Murderers by Jeffrey Hatcher (Hilarious pt. 2!)
TBA (There was a scheduling mishap at the fault of the previously scheduled play's publisher)
Holiday Special Presentation
Back Home Again: A John Denver Holiday Concert (Take me home, country roads...Fire on the Mountain creator Dan Wheetman returns!)
I have a goal to try to write shorter blog entries. I know I can be a little long-winded, but I mean really what do you have to do on a Friday at work besides read my (brilliant) musings? Anyway, here you go, short and sweet, our recently announced 2007-08 season. For the details I am omitting for the sake of goal achievement, go here.
In the Bagley Wright Theatre
Twelfth Night by William Shakespeare (Drunks and cross-dressing!)
The Cook by Eduardo Machado (Cuba!)
The Breach by Catherine Filloux, Tarell McCraney & Joe Sutton (Hurricane Katrina...which I think should be sans exclamation point)
The Imaginary Invalid by Molière (Satire on the medical profession!)
The Cure at Troy by Seamus Heaney (Greek adventure!--I'm hoping for hot, bare-chested men)
In the Leo K. Theatre
By the Waters of Babylon by Robert Schenkkan (Cuba pt 2!)
how? how? why? why? by Kevin Kling (Hilarious!)
Murderers by Jeffrey Hatcher (Hilarious pt. 2!)
TBA (There was a scheduling mishap at the fault of the previously scheduled play's publisher)
Holiday Special Presentation
Back Home Again: A John Denver Holiday Concert (Take me home, country roads...Fire on the Mountain creator Dan Wheetman returns!)
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