If I Could Keep Time in a Circle

Ride a Painted Pony
There are an almost endless array of phrases to sum up life’s fortunes; Wheel of Fortune, What Goes Up Must Come Down, What Goes Around Comes Around, Day in the Sun, Every Dog Has His Day, Enjoy it While You Can. Of course, there are more, each culture has there faith based variation. Luck, fate, circumstance, equal/opposite reactions and more. Even science has its own. What’s here today is not permanent. Everything is in a stage of flux, change, and decay. Nothing is as it seems. All of this added up, rolled up, pulled together, spun around, purified and redistributed in its pure form leaves you with some glaring constants: Time and circles. Time may or may not move in a straight line. However, events along that line, when not specified, do appear to move in a circle. When You’re Hot, You’re Hot, When You’re Not, You’re Not. Biorhythms. You Can Make Yourself Happy. Seeing is Believing. Visualize. Eye on the Prize. Optimism and fate walking hand in hand with hard work and uncertainty.

Luck Making
Do we make luck? I believe we do contribute to something referred to as luck. Where we position ourselves in life and how choose to interpret events help to build luck. And I mean both good luck and bad luck. However, you can’t have one forever. Of course, you can embrace ONLY the type that you desire and deemphasize the one that is harder to fathom or is not as appealing. People who say they have bad luck usually do two things: create most if not all of their bad luck and/or do not acknowledge the good things that have fallen into their lap. The reverse goes for those people who are considered lucky. However, I do believe there’s about 8-10% of luck that we cannot account for, maybe only 5%, but this is enough to give many-many a reason relinquish their own responsibly and need for action and leave “it” in the hands of the intangible.

Here and Now
I am experiencing a cart where one wheel is turning in one direction at one speed and another is turning the opposite way at a different speed, still another seems to need a good deal of grease to get moving in any direction and the remaining one looks as if it needs some repairs or its going to fail. Yeah, this is my metaphor. There are some things going very well and some things that have my concerned. Without sharing details, I can say that I have had a simultaneous run of good and bad luck. Both are my own creations. The luck I have is due to how I positioned myself in my life at a certain moment and how I chose to interpret events. Much of my luck has been created by how I’ve learned to handle situations differently and hopefully better than I used to. However, mistakes occur and results soon follow. A key for me is to follow two or even more paths at one time without being pulled, pushed or torn along they. This is why my “cart” is of great use as its four wheels can act independently. I follow a path resulting on my active choices without assigning any attachment to choice not made or the desired outcome of the choice that was made. Building toward a goal or goals is so much easier when you’re able to absorb the bumps and failings without ruing or dreaming too much.

Jobs Plays Films
I have two callback auditions in my future and I’m very excited about keeping theater in my life, especially at this time. I am also going to be helping with of a friend’s new adapted script. Also, I will be performing in a very small role in an exciting upcoming production. With regards to film making I just put the finishing touches on the fourth installment of the Behold a Great Warrior; the Right Season. To see this film, please go here. In fact to view all of the installments please click the titles below.

http://www.youtube.com/user/KingFireAntProds

Behold a Great Warrior

The Rhyme in the Song

This is Self Evident

The Right Season

Ode to Joy of Animation

The Good Old Days
I remember cartoons in two senses. First, of course, involves the childhood double whammy of Saturday morning extravaganzas and the Disney epics from long before I was born up through the mid 80’s. This was before the era of digital animation. I was a fan of many of them and would watch them whenever I could. The second involves a small group of visual artists, painters and such, that I maintained friendships with who started exploring computer animation back in the early 1990’s as a way to basically embrace, by incorporating, modern technology into their artistic souls - I think. Disney and Pixar were just starting to make animated films using computers as well. Due to where I was in my life at that time I was not very interested as an artist or as a voyeur.

Recent Explorations
I have recently been intrigued to build a small animated film. I’m not sure what inspired me other than the interesting idea of adapting existing sounds for other purposes. I starting seeing images in my mind's eye based on certain audio clips and snippets. I then decided it would be fun to build a film. I decided that I would, as I do, use whatever sources were available. The key was to find, not develop, but find the images, therefore builkd a “found image” kind of animation and using my extant software programs. I also thought it would be fun to play around with style and subject. I’m pretty much trying to create a piece that plays as a form of French Revolution Propaganda. Chances are this will not convey, which is fine, it is after all a starting point.

Allons mourir dans l'ouest
This is the intentionally pretentious title for my animated film short. It means, in French, essentially: Let’s Go West to Die. This means the West as in the USA as opposed to wagon trains and whiskey jugs and outlaws and cattle – or does it?

I Don’t Know What Any of This Means

Film Series
After many distractions and many careful considerations, I am going to meet with the other kfa folk(s) and spin the possibility of cutting the fourth installment a great deal and making it a somewhat less “far reaching” conspiracy peace and a more intimate study of our hero's journey. He is, after all, our “hero” and this is his story. James Fountain was getting a little lost amidst my explorations and then mounting ambitions, but a careful examination has revealed that a cut of this sort will be better all around. First, I can have closure on a project that was supposed to take three months, but has, due to all sorts of contributing factors, taken a bit longer. Also, I think it will benefit the original goal of the narrative to bring it back down to a more personal level. I am sure my actor portraying Mr. Fountain would agree.

Stage
I recently auditioned for a favorite company of mine and was lucky enough to be called back to read for several intriguing roles. I was hesitant to take on a new role, but with this production being produced in the Fall of this year I am confident that, if cast, I will be able to honor all my necessary commitments. The callbacks went quite well and I felt like I was able to demonstrate a variety of character traits and was able to take direction – what else can you hope for other than getting the role!

Play Writing
The Damage Done has been occupying my time a lot as of late. My fascination with the great “anti hero” has brought me back to this script. I brained stormed with an associate of mine and was quite inspired. I do have concerns that it is too much on the “incomplete” side and that to do it correctly I would have to expound more energy than I will be able to muster at this time. Other scripts remain in a holding pattern as I am spending more time with the prose and with other responsibilities.

Prose
My short-short stories are one final draft away from getting the “associate review”. This is the first phase before I consider stranger’s feedback and/or submitting them to any publication. This is an exciting stage as I am very curious what criticisms I will receive. In particular I am excited about Box Cars as I feel that it has the strongest voice and the easily the most compelling subject matter.

Other
I am settling nicely into my new apt. and have been blessed with what some would consider disturbing news. I am about to embark on a form of career enhancement that only fate could deliver.

Brilliance in the Unrefined

I’m not going to say that I was any good, but I am going to say that I was better than I thought at the time. I first began writing in a series of phases; play writing first, then poetry and then finally prose. I penned my first play in 1993, it is called Tones and it is essentially an adaption of Beckett’s Krapp’s Last Tape. About four years later after I read some very inspiring poetry from a friend of mine I thought I would explore that genre. Despite my best efforts I had never been a fan of poetry, at least in the classical sense, and well, honestly in the “beat” sense as well. I’m not sure if this is because, not unlike classical symphonic and jazz music, it takes a bit a trained ear for some to appreciate. I approached poetry from a novice’s standpoint and never claimed to be a poet, only a dabbler. Around 2000, about three years after my foray into poetry and during my relapse back into play writing, I decided to attempt to write short stories. I wrote a handful of short-short stories and short stories over the next few years. As I began to refocus on acting as a primary creative outlet and more recently the “day job” I put the plays, the poetry and the prose aside.

I was in the process of doing the fifth drafts of my two experimental short-short stories, I Watch the Morning and We Will Be Here Forever when I started reviewing my earlier stabs at prose. I opened a few documents when I stumbled across something I had been playing around with called Boxcars. I don’t know if it was the mood I was in, or a lack of oxygen to the brain, but I was literally astounded at how well it read. To be clearer, I was not sure I had written it at all. There were images, flows of dialog and the over all subject matter and even the voice its self did not seem like mine, and however, it all seemed very familiar to me. It was indeed mine, though. Needless to say I brought the document to the surface, so to speak, and am going to edit it and if it comes together as well as I anticipate it might actually be the strongest short-short story I have to date and might even warrant competition. Then again, I might be jumping the gun.

This brings me to an interesting revelation. It’s a twofold discovery: What we create in the moment, is often something worth holding onto. We might not see it clearly upon immediate examination; however, looking back it might have merit. It may even be quite brilliant! So make sure not to discard earlier projects, I believe early drafts can be valuable to some, however, the entire pursuit should be well preserved and revisited at a later date. Perhaps it is an influence on a current project or is simply worth reconstructing. I am not advocating 200+ spiral bound notebooks and a bogged down external hard drive, just the idea that sometimes we are too hard on ourselves or simply too close to something to see it clearly. Art is like life, you can’t claim to know everything about it, because that’s when you are wrong.

Work and Art and Art and Work and All That Entails

As a one-time full-time artist, I am now basically shocked at how easily my new found “day job” has become the goddess to whom all sacrifices of art, life and sometimes sanity are made. I made the decision for all of my artistic endeavors to become part of my world of “hobby”. To the offense of many actual artists that I interact with I am forced to view my pursuits in this manner. I admit this is only a psychological trick I play on myself. By simply naming it so, I feel that I can distinguish its worth and therefore focus much more readily and doggedly on the tasks that bring home the bacon.

I again find myself in a position where I want to be able to identify myself with a label. I believe it is a romantic, possibly nostalgic notion that believes that I need to name myself. Especially as I want to name myself something other than as an artist. This presents a potential reckoning for one of my strongest held believes. I’ve argued on line and in bars about the beauty of art, therefore the artist, being all inclusive. I’ve argued against better versed, better researched and better spoken individuals that art does not necessarily exist as a result of intent. The creator does not exclusively determine art. The recipient determines art as well. If I am to be consistent then I would have to say that I am an artist even when I create intermittently. Am I therefore and artist through intent? If that is the case then I would need the result of this intent? Is this the case? Can I be an artist without a result? Maya Angelou says we are all created as creators. If we believe, we must remember that we are all not necessarily artists or are we, without realizing it? Are we all artists? Not necessarily. It depends on the shaky agreement between the giver and the receiver. I believe the agreement to be so amalgomous that if an abandoned gas station sign appeals to someone as an abandoned sculpture, then for that person it is a sculpture. Then I must be an artist, even when I am brining home the bacon or even “as” I bring home the bacon.

This has to be true, but when it comes down to the nuts and bolts of it all, I only feel like a creative person when I am being creative. Even if I am not an artist, by the accepted definition of which I can accept, I can not accept a life that does not create. Creation is also a shaky surface to place one’s faith. There are many forms of creation, but the ones that appeal to me involve the creation of something that causes an involuntary cathartic response. Sure, it can be “intended” for some other purpose, but often design, artisan and craftsmanship cause this item of “use” to become more than its original intent. It has acquired an additional result of its intention. It has grown, dare I say acquired value. Unfortunately, I apply these criteria to myself, clearly a sentient being (I hope). I believe that above and beyond the daily grind that I call my “job” that my outcomes are greater than my intent. That my actions, my daily activities contribute to something more.

I continue to wrestle with the terms and how I apply them to myself. The reality of the situation lies in the fact that we will be defined by our actions, our inactions, ourselves and others, so why think about it. Do something.

Felicity Go Lightly

I have just finshed the first of the three stories featured in Flaubert's "The Tales" I'm not sure if I'm supposed to pity, trivialize, judge, or simply experience the journey of a certain Felicity in Flaubert's A Simple Heart. I realize that, not unlike, many many pieces of literature, I find myself saddened almost to the point of disgust by the unfortunate turn of events that happen to those humble characters that pop up, pluck your heart strings and then falter all in a nice tidy venue such as a short story or novella.

Oddly, at times I found Felicity to be equally as frustrating as I did Holly in Capote's Breakfast at Tiffany's. Both are women who live a tragic existence. Felicity is a victim of class as much as Holly. Fortunately for Holly she can hide her inner self by using charm, charisma and sexual liberation. Poor Felicity is a simple girl, whose joys in life are approved and supplied by those around her. Sadly, they have little feeling for her. Her lot is to live from day to day and serve others with no regard for self. Being religious, she is able to do this with little desire for more. Considered Flaubert's answer to the critics that said he had no "heart" and to impress his friend George Sands, this story is one sad collection of poor judgment, bad timing, self-flagellation and all around class consciousness.

This is not to say that I did not enjoy it, I found it quite advanced for its time. Written in the mid 1870's it features an efficient use of words and phrasing and is just descriptive enough of those things that the reader truly needs to know. It also features a great mechanism by which a parrot becomes the surrogate partner that the heroine can turn to and find all comfort required. Her continual sense of loss pulls at you to the point, where I found myself just wishing she would shake herself loose of her conditioned state of suppliant behavior or just pass away. When death comes to her, it is over in a about a page in a half and I couldn't help but find myself truly relieved. Not as a reader, but out of sympathy to Felicity.

Perhaps the best device of all is the use of both flashback and foreshadowing while also providing an ironic, yet true sense of comedy to her final moment. As she approaches a proverbial "light" she sees a large parrot in the place of the usual St. Peter. I thought this was great, clever, funny and true form.

David Copperfield, A Night at the Theater, and Rejecting the Siren’s Call

David Copperfield
I am now at the halfway point of Dickens’ most personal and autobiographical novel. I have always been a huge Dickens fan and was particularly taken by this book when I first dove into it. Sadly, as I am at the 300 page mark, I am still quite invested, but find that “life” outside of his mid 19th century take on it, is making it hard for me to give it the attention it deserves. There are still some resounding stark prophetic moments that keep me very much interested as to what will happen next. The unfortunate thing is that I may be sitting on this novel for the remainder of the calendar year.

Screenplays for the Stage
I saw the opening night of a very intriguing original script this past Sunday. It was a relatively strong cast led by the protagonist who did an outstanding job in a difficult journey. His strength of craft carried him through the more difficult moments of the story, while his grounded, honest presence added a rich quality to the scripts stronger moments. The female lead was usually weak, considering that so many shows feature strong women and weak men. The 3rd character was involved in a bold creation of an antagonistic, yet liberating force. I felt that it was another case of a playwright writing for the screen. Perhaps not the entire script, but much of it was cut as a screenplay would be, save for the extended moments of dialogue.

What You Want When You Don’t Want It
I was offered a chance to understudy not one, but two plays at one of the most important theater houses in the DC Metro area and due to my recent difficulty at work (transitioning a new assistant while awaiting the arrival of a new supervisor as well as a new division VP) I opted out of this wonderful opportunity. I was proud to be offered a chance, but, again, I had to remind myself: I am not here for that. I know I did the right thing, but I hope that opportunities like this present themselves again in one for or the other

Miracle of Magical Realism

I have finished my journey through One Hundred Years of Solitude. Where do I begin? After all the hype of friends, critics and scholars, I must agree that it was amazing. The role every character plays in the big picture. The recurring themes; the choices of a family of a community and the consequences, accidental, beautiful, maddening, fatal and otherwise sum up the experience of mankind. I don’t think a person can set out to write such a far reaching narrative and actually achieve it the way that Marquez has. I am sure the months and months of preparation and outlining was so that he could achieve this vision, but I am not sure if he actually intended the magical result and almost universal acclaim. As a young writer I can fully appreciate one’s goals and dreams of developing something new and original or even simply building upon an extant style or genre, no matter how proven or unproven the playing field. The most reassuring aspect of the whole process is that he literally saw the town and the family as he listened to the stories of his grand parents. He was writing from what he saw from what he heard. He listened to others and this fueled his imagination and need to tell the story of Macondo and the Buendia family.

I flirt with the fuel and wrestle with the need to tell so many stories, but they are born of pure speculation. Often my research helps me create something more “true”, but I hesitate because I have rarely been able to make any story I tell my own. Not my own story as much as my own take. The author’s perspective is always clear, subtle, refined, perhaps even without judgment, but still it is there. These descriptions alone define the author’s perspective. In short, to have none is still to have one. Marquez has influenced generations of writers and I must say that his embrace of magical realism is one that resonates very much with this reader. I have explored this style on and off for years and have often fallen short in my understanding. After having read a master, I feel like I do understand how to do it well. I now have a very clear path in front of me. I have more fuel and the fumes are tickling my senses more than ever!

50 Pages of Solitude

After finishing a gift copy of Love in the Time of Cholera, I found that many of my friends who had read it immediately suggested that I read One Hundred Years of Solitude. Many suggested quite simply that this was his masterpiece. I now sit on the precipice of finishing this magnificent book. I took a break almost quite literally at the half way point as I was preparing for auditions and then suddenly found myself distracted by the Unbearable Lightness of Being. I have now returned and the words leap off the pages with a comfortable spiral of images and “old friends”. I had no idea how attached I had become to this characters and how much I had already learned about them.

I must admit that as I round the last fifty, I was a bit of a hard sell at first. Yes, I would admit it was a brilliant book. Yes, I would say that it is a landmark piece of text. However, I did not find myself anything other than curious about the book and how it was constructed. Now as I near the end, I find myself dreading the inevitable closing of the sprung paperback and the often fruitless attempts to recommend it to others.

As I near the end all I can say is that it is a bible. It is an allegory, it is a collection of myths and fantasy and every bit as magical as a Rowling or a Tolkien story. I am truly fascinated as to how this story ends. I will see it soon. There will be final reflections upon conclusion.

Immediate Reflections – The Unbearable Lightness of Being

Light vs. Heavy and the meaning of Kitsch are two strong themes in Kundera’s modern masterpiece. I must admit that although I was thoroughly enjoying his writing style it wasn’t until I was about ¾ into the novel that it finally occurred to me that this was indeed a masterpiece. I am now very to track down a copy of another one of his titles The Book of Laughter and Forgetting.

The way that he weaves his commentary about his characters as well as adding “forgotten” elements of their stories did not shake me as a reader as much at it made me feel even more voyeuristic. I felt like the characters were subjected to an almost hostile examination by not only us, but by their creator. In fact, I might suggest that Kundera did not necessarily create these people as much as he stumbled across them, recognized their yearning and successfully described their inner monologues. The relationships resonated with me in a thick and often disturbing way. I found that I could relate quite easily with both females and one of the males, but Tomas, the principal male, was hard for me to identify with. As the novel unfolds I find myself able to relate to his experience as well as the others. It is fortunate for me that by the last few pages of the book I was able to indentify with each character, including the Karenin.

Perhaps the single most disconcerting element of the whole reading experience was that I made inevitable parallels to my personal life. I could not help but trying to see my partner in certain characters and myself in others. For the most part this was simply a healthy transference, but I found it a little disheartening when there were certain moments in the novel involving certain characters that I could readily identify with. These were not moments of strength, but moments of frailty and insecurity.

I am now attacking the second half of One Hundred Years of Solitude. I love this book as well and have found myself missing a certain number of those characters and have become increasingly curious as to the resolution of the story.

You Keep Knocking

Acting

I have just had the honor of being asked to join a cast, but I decided not to take advantage of their offer. I am enjoying my time off of the stage and also am pursuing projects for the early fall. My only regret is not being able to work with two, if not more, superbly outstanding actors. Actors who I have seen perform and would be thrilled to learn from. This being said, the idea of sitting this one out, puts me at ease.

I have an audition for a small company coming up on Saturday and I’m preparing for this with focus and zeal. It is hard to predict the outcome; however, I am hoping that I am beginning to fall back into a zone or preparation, execution and follow-up.

An associate has forwarded a good number of local agent contacts and I plan on submitting my headshot and resume for their consideration. I had an agent when I was in Chicago and I realize that this is often solid, somewhat rewarding, work. This brings up something that I need to address. I have a bit of a mop on my head so I need to consider one of two things: A hair cut or some updated headshots.

Writing
I have begun to rewrite I Watch the Morning and have just completed the second draft of We Will be Here Forever. As exercises it is very important that I follow through on these and at least have them read by others for critiquing purposes. I need to take that “next step” as a writer and solicit feedback. Also, I simply need to finish the projects that I start. (See previous blog).

When The Minimum is Maximized

One of my biggest creative obstacles is finding the courage to finish what I have started. I shortchange the product, by not allowing it to be fully realized. Over the years I have started and explored several mediums and styles of creativity. Often the result is exercises that remain incomplete. Many should stay that way, but many are cheated their full potential by my insistence that the process of beginning an outline or drafting a sketch or preparing the story is all that is required. Many of my fragmentary projects are the seeds of things that may promise great fruit.

I began a series of very short films just about ten months ago. The original idea was to use whatever tools I had available; actors, cameras, locations, etc. and make the most of them. I tagged these as exercises in “maximizing the minimum”. I had been in front of the camera just enough to realize that I had a desire to learn more about the actual film making. I used what resources I had and commenced on a project. The project grew out of several movement and camera experiments I did on the roof of an apartment building. An actor moved toward and away from my cell phone camera and I recorded him to see what effects could be obtained. After about three weeks I had outlined a story and embarked on a series of three short films built around the camera’s limitations and a central theme.

The story is somewhat convoluted and was really only secondary to teaching how to tell a story, film, edit, block, light, etc. The resulting project is entitled Behold a Great Warrior. As I finished the third film and then had to reedit it, I found my self basically bored with the story. I realized quite simply that I was not interested in pursuing the final chapter and phase of the operation. The goal was to finish the three short films and then fold them into one comprehensive piece. It turned out that four films were needed in total. At this point, I have finished three and the fourth is in the early stages of development. The final piece is only an idea at this point.

It is difficult for me to revisit my early experiments without wanting to redo them. Also, it is hard for me to find the vigor to follow through with the original plan and actually finish the product. My producer has encouraged me to finish the final segment. After careful consideration, I feel that it is indeed best to finish this series. I am anxious to begin something far better drafted, sketched, rehearsed and executed, but there’s still much to be learned and that was the original intent of these films anyway. Despite all my life experiences and wisdom I still find myself distracted by the “new cool idea” and the next thing I know, I am headed down that path, my undiagnosed ADD prodding me into fulfilling new directions!

The Hight Stakes of Knowing Who You Are Likely to Be

I have been given the opportunity to audition for the Shakespeare Theatre Company. My second tenure here in DC has afforded me the chance to demonstrate that I have grown as an actor. Receiving an invite from the STC is one of the great benefits of my new maturity and this “second time around”. I have prepared two pieces and have been coached by my recent director and advised by friends of the best way to execute these monologues. One thing I have tried to do is realize who I am likely to be cast as. I do this based on, well, what I have been cast as lately.

Types

While I was finishing up in Chicago I discovered that I was falling into an interesting type. I was cast, not one, two, three, or four, but FIVE times as a man who was in denial of his true sexuality. Some of these roles were “roles of a lifetime”. Some were “not so much”. I never questioned my own sexuality, but became frustrated with getting the same type of character over and over again. Looking back I now realize that I never had it some good! I was lucky that a type found me and therefore I had found my type.

Now, as I have aged and possibly become more at ease as a performer I find myself having shifted into a new type. Picture the “boy next door gone WRONG”. I’m the bad guy with a friendly face. I have been lucky enough to play several roles on both film and stage that fit this description. So, based on what others perceive me as, when casting, and what I tend to excel at, I am trying to embrace monologues that show me at my best and my most likely.

It has taken a while to come to grips with the fact that I will not get the character types that I wish I could do. I may come close, but there are roles that I will not be a first choice for and this is something that still haunts me a little, but just knowing where I stand gives me a great deal of power. I focus my energies in the probable direction. Like and athlete reserving energy for when they truly need it, I can now “know” when to fight for that role and when to tell myself: “I’m not what they are looking for”. And instead of providing myself with a self preserving mantra I can assert this as simply a statement of fact. That is comforting.

Borrowed and Stolen

I must admit that my reading always leads me into a dangerous direction. I don't have the fear that once I read a brilliantly told story I will discover that I have "nothing to say". I actually decide that I want to tell my story as brilliantly as this person has. I am inspired by good art no matter what the source or medium. I am digging deeper into The Unbearable Lightness of Being and am now finding myself on two interesting fronts.

• Front 1

The first front involves my identifying with all three of the central characters. Their individual characteristics are presented to me the reader in such a way that I can clearly understand each of them. This is one of the few books that I see myself in each of them. That being said, I am still only about 1/3 the way through and have many more discoveries to make.

• Front 2

I just finished the first draft of "We Will Be Here Forever" and I find that, although it is probably a form of self flattery, I am lifting a bit of the style of Mr. Kundra. Granted I am not trained and am putting together an awkward mosaic of sorts, but his influence has not only inspired me, but has influenced me. In fact I am inspired to try and broaden my palette by actually trying tackle areas of writing that are historically difficult for me. I am excited to be challenged in this way.

The Tragedy is Done

Closing

The Oresteia closed this weekend. It was a whirlwind run that peaked about mid run and delivered some of the more intense reviews on both sides of the fence and offered many actors a chance to push themselves further than they have ever been pushed before. I found myself to be surprisingly calm amidst the emotions of the run. There were ego flairs and doubts about the process, there were attacks on character and overworked crew and cast. The end result, however, was a show that allowed for artists to be artists. Each artisan was allowed to do their job. We had a great directing team that offered a variety of experiences from their many backgrounds of training. I leave this process a little sad, a little relieved, but mainly proud of whom I have become as an actor and as a person. I weathered my own doubts in a very efficient and productive way. I will miss individuals and the process, but the piece was completed and it was truly finished on Sunday.

New Tasks

As an artist I am now faced with the actor’s follow-up questions: What next? Where do I go? I have two auditions coming up and I am very much looking forward to doing them and doing them well. Also, my writing projects are now going to be underway full force, not to mention my continued reading of the many books that have been loaned to me and that I have started, but not yet finished. There will be a rush of completed reads and projects coming on soon.

Film Making

Lastly, the final installment in my film series, Behold a Great Warrior is due to be completed rather soon. Also, I have a USB cable for my cell phone and plan to create and edit a new cell phone film short. I expect to have something on the web, by the end of June.

When The Unbearable is Bearable

Two Much of Good Thing

I am embarking on two ventures. One tests me in one way and the other in another. I have just picked up a copy of Milan Kundera's Unbearable Lightness of Being and have to say that this is the first book in many years that I fell in love with after the first paragraph. This was difficult for me because just yesterday I was offered an opportunity to audition at a reputable local theater. Therefore my artistic focus has to shift from this seductive text to preparing for a very important audition.

Book

I remember seeing the movie, The Unbearable Lightness of Being, when it came out 20 years ago with Daniel Day-Lewis and thinking it was great. I was unaware of the novel and was just enjoying watching my new favorite actor at work. Now, I would like to revisit that film after finishing the book as I'd love to see how well the film does or does not work. I could relate to the book right away. Perhaps it is how Tomas experiences this initial unwanted love. I can relate to how he wants to explain this to himself and try to remove it from his presence, yet he is unable to imagine a life without her and is unable to consider life without her, even after such a brief encounter. I can understand him much more now than I ever could have 20 years ago. I believe that this is a good time to read this book.

Audition

I am going to present Puff from Richard Sheridan's The Critic and I'm hoping to fully develop a new piece, Angelo from Measure for Measure. I am a little nervous, but I believe that it is time to do something new. I need to really bust ass, as my audition is only 8 days away. I am also a little worried as I am afraid that the two pieces could be construed as similar. However, only the execution will determine this for sure. By the way, I have discoverd a great resource for online Shakespeare monologues. See below:

http://www.shakespeare-monologues.org/

Oresteia Update - Feedback 3 - Straglers

FYI - Other online reviews of note. The feedback has been "right down the middle". We've had folks say that the show is too long and that they had to think about it afterwards and THEN liked it. We've had people rave about the cast and the risks and some folks dismiss the whole thing. That's art, for you all!

Potomac Stages

Allartsreview4u (scroll pretty far down)

Sudden Fiction – Completion/Beginning

I just finished reading the collection Sudden Fiction. I was very happy to have received this as a recommendation from my partner. I found that the bulk of the narratives were actually of interest to me. I was appreciative of all the craftsmanship that went into them and was inspired by many as well. My first stab at this style; I Watch the Morning, is close to completion. It was an exercise and I feel happy with what I learned. My second attempt, We Will Be Here Forever is more challenging as I was becoming more aware of the actual goal of many of these short short stories; build a small novel. This is much more difficult than I imagined. Even with a four page story.

I am learning what I often am reminded of about the creative process as it flows through me - I can get many many miles out of shear inspiration, stream of consciousness and raw enthusiasm, but when it comes to craft I am still a student. Very much of a student. Fortunately, I have a friend who has “trained” as a writer and they are able to offer me texts that are both inspirational and educational. These accompanied with the traditional art of “reading is the best way to become a writer” motif have allowed me to begin to really grow.

The growth is bittersweet though, I am learning what it takes to do something well. I have many stories that lend themselves to the short, possibly long form, but once I get them on paper I realize that there is so much work to be done. I love work. I truly love the hard work required, however, I need to actually DO this hard work.

I have brainstormed with myself about some additional stories that I have drafted, but not developed over the years:

I Don’t Know What Any of This Means (A boy meets with Social Services, circa 1972)
House Hunting (Scavenging old houses in the country)
Trailer Tragedy (Drunk at the gravel pit in the mid 1980’s)
Rectal Cats (A business man discovers that he has two cats living in his intestines)

I am not inferring that all of these actually have merit, but I am particular interested in exploring the first two and seeing where my newfound knowledge and skills take me.

Universal Artistic Consciousness

As an artist I am aware that inspiration comes in many forms and muses. Some are fortuitous, forced, accidental, cultivated, or simply too impossible to explain. I have found that my lackadaisical approach to developing ideas sometimes leaves me a little out in the cold when it comes to finishing the idea and fulfilling the call of the muse. On more than one occasion I have brainstormed, outlined, developed, researched, and even drafted an idea that I’ve held onto just long enough to see a similar, if not almost identical idea presented to the public. I experience no jealousy, or resentment, only a moment of crestfallen loss. I realize that I was in touch with a kind of universal artistic consciousness whereby I had access to vivid silver threads. I used these to slowly, EVER so slowly sew together a narrative. My sedentary approach causes for many unrealized fabrics and tales.

I am not sure if it is fear of finishing a project and then being judged or simply an artistic ADD that causes me to jump from new idea to new idea, but one thing is certain: I have to stop the repositioning of myself. I find myself constantly moving away from things and often rarely going back to them. Sometimes it takes years to revisit an idea. The recent development of the film Hunger by Steve McQueen that just won an award at Cannes has made me realize that I need to develop ideas and follow through. My play, Maggie and Marcella, is a very different variation on the story presented in McQueen’s film; however, it is based on the same incidents. I am proud and deflated by the release and subsequent success of this film.

At this point, I think that the lesson to be learned is that even if the product already exists, I still need to finish mine. There are no true “original” ideas, so I needn’t fear treading into pre-discovered countries. With this in mind there are several ideas that I once abandoned that bear revisiting. Please note on the right hand status bar my new title: The Damage Done.

Art of Money

One of the challenges I’ve faced is trying to live beyond the stereotype of the “flaky” artist. I have made a concerted effort to be an artist with good business sense. I must admit, this has not been easy. Not because I am solely an artist, but because I have had to retrain myself and unlearn habits that were not always constructive for me. Also, I’ve had to become much more fiscally responsible at home as a result of my goal.

When I returned to the Washington, DC area just over a year ago, I had determined that I would pursue a life where my day job, my business job, would be my primary focus and goal. I would develop myself as a manager. I would even read books on this subject. Then it started again. I began to find myself in desperate need of creating. I realized that my need was to be a creative force. I needed to build through the process. I could always reinvent myself or discover my dormant financial skills, but at the end of the day, sometimes, every day, I needed to make something.

My struggle now is how to determine where art and the creative process fit into my life; livelihood or past time, or a combination of both?

Oresteia Update - Feedback 2

The Washington, DC theater community is very excited about Constellation Theatre's endeavors. Even the local critics have been supportive of them during their short lifespan. This recent batch of reviews does, however, show that some folks aren't as happy with The Oresteia as they were with other shows presented by this company. Then again, some folks literally rave about their work. I receive a nice small mention for my efforts.

Washington Post

TwoHoursTraffic

DCTheatreScene

Washington City Paper

Prose
I have also begun a draft of a short-short story that I actually started writing about 15 years ago. This one is also an "exercise" and will help me "mature" as I continue to teach myself this very short form. Its a story about love and allergies, entitled: We Will Stay Here Forever.

Film
I just ordered a USB cable for my cell phone. My goal is to get a couple of 1-minute and under narratives up on the web and begin to hone in on my original goal of "maximizing the mimum".

I Watch the Morning - Excerpt

Below is and excerpt from my recent "short-short story" writing exercise. It has made significant growth and benefited greatly from a few edits. As it is an exercise with no intent other than to instruct, I am going to make a few additional edits, however I will begin to explore additional narratives in this form and I continue to grow.

"There is civilized restraint from each passerby as I see a man slowly crumble to the ground. He is wearing all black and appears to be in no pain, but he is not regaining his footing and continues to slowly fold downward. He is wearing glasses and a dark hat. I am moving toward him in slow motion and find that the crowd seems to be ignoring him, yet they are brushing right up against him. There is no blood, no screaming, but he appears to be falling down at a steady rate. I get closer to him and realize that he is slowly, awkwardly, somewhat embarrassingly slipping down the stairs and trying to steady himself on the railing and those who are passing to his left. I see no outstretched hand and no offer of support. Finally, he reaches the bottom of the stairs and is lying with his back to the stairs with his bag still in his hand. He shows no pain, but calls out in mild disgust. I see now that he is a Hasidic Jew. He is a man of about 30 and he has an incredible presence representing a certain dignity despite his recent descent. Still no one helps him. He gets up and is trying to move against the crowd, clearly moving toward the train. I see him from behind now as I passed by him as he was grumbling just after having come to rest at the bottom of the stairs. I watched as he pulled himself and his bag up and fought against the crowd to the train that had passed and watched as his dark suit faded and blended into the suits and walls and dirt and morning crowd that still nudged me up the stairs."

The Short American Short Story – Sudden Fiction

My partner just introduced me to a collection of very short stories called Sudden Fiction. She was a student of creative writing and suggested this as a great introduction to this compact form of story telling. I remember being asked to write a “complete” story in 2 pages or less when I took a creative writing course my freshman year of college. She also suggested that it would be good Metro reading. She’s right! I am able to give just the right amount of attention to each of them as I jostle between stations and sudden stops.

Two things have occurred to me while I have been reading this collection. First, I could not wait to start exploring my own version of this type of writing. In fact, the title listed on the right, As I Watch the Morning at 30% completion is my first stab at one of these. I just couldn’t control myself as I was very excited to execute one and fortunately I had a story right there waiting for me. Once it is finalized it will be uploaded.

The second thing that I’ve noticed is how distinctly American and mid-century the styles of the stories are. So far, I’m about 25 deep, there have been a few variations, but many of them have what I think of as the “golden age” of the modern American novel feel to them. Many of them are naturalistic, simple, and rooted in domestic relationships. I state this not as a criticism, but merely as an observation. After indulging myself in literature from the far and distant East as well as South and Central America, it was very interesting to land on something so unabashedly North American.

I admit that I find each of these inspiring. Not all of them appeal to me, but each has an element, usually a provocative “button” that ends the story that stirs an appreciation of the author’s intent even if I’m not a fan of their overall style. I am surprised at how much each conveys to the reader in such a short time. Sometimes within the first two or three sentences I find myself visualizing, quite clearly, the world of the characters. I see what they see. I am not a hard sell when it comes to writing. I am open to anything having merit. I have not read too much modern pulp writing, but I am always on the lookout for someone who is considered exceptional within their genre.

Also, it’s refreshing to know that if a story is not of my liking it is done and over in just under 1500 words or so.

Oresteia Update - Feedback

Hello, friends and family. I have a small role in this show, but it's a great deal of fun and the cast is really inspiring. Luckily our work is being appreciated by the public and the press. See below for the first two reviews of the show.



The Washington Times

The Examiner (see page 24)

Maggie and Marcella 2

After a night off from the writing project I now attack with full force. With historical drama it is, of course, useful to actually do research. I had about 10 lbs of research from my first stab at this script, but I ended up losing all of that when my car was broken into many years ago. Fast forward a decade and a few and voila - the wonderful internet is at everyone’s disposal and I now have access to far more information than I did when I did my preliminary research. That being said, I have a new stack of about 50 pages that will keep me busy this evening. I intend on committing at least an hour to an honest “pen to paper” exercise.

Where am I with this endeavor? To steal from my friend and her method of project tracking on her blog I offer:

Maggie & Marcella 8% Completed

Of course, the most comprehensive and accurate route to track this would be to incorporate MicrosoftProject. Although, this is for the corporate sector it is also an excellent tool for tracking creative projects as well.

As my projects grow, I will add a depth chart for them as well.

Maggie and Marcella

When I was 13 years old an international incident reached me on a profound level. My naivety, idealism and general since of wonder and awe wrapped its self around one of the noblest and possibly self-indulgent acts of my life time. The hunger strikes of the I.R.A. prisoners at Long Kesh prison in 1981. I have vague memories of Dan Rather filling in for Walter Cronkite on the CBS evening news as they flashed, by today’s standards, a very crude graphic on Mr. Rather’s upper shoulder that would count out the days of Bobby Sands’ hunger strike. I believe they started giving it domestic coverage as his days were in their 30’s. The hunger strike and subsequent death of Bobby Sands, at his own hands has fascinated me. I do not claim that he is an inspiration in the same way that Gandhi, MLK, or others have been in the century, but I find that anyone, with no record of mental illness, who is willing to kill themselves for a cause, someone worth deconstructing and exploring.

I began writing a one man show for myself about 10 years ago. I thought that it would be an excellent opportunity to explore the story, the man and to also develop a solid, worthwhile, even educational piece of social-political theater. I was forced to shelve the project after only a few months. Two years ago I revisited the piece and was hoping to have a working script, thoroughly work-shopped by May of 2006 to coincide with the 25th anniversary of Bobby Sands’ death. At this time it evolved from a one man show to a two person drama. I decided to add an “antagonist”; Margaret Thatcher. I thought that as Sands slipped into a delusional state, due to malnutrition and such, he would encounter Margaret Thatcher as a guardian angel/Virgil type of character. Not unlike Ethel Rosenberg in Kushner’s Angels in America. They could express their points of view to each other and thus fulfill the need for each side of story being told. Unfortunately, I was not able to finish the draft in time for a first read and had to develop other projects.

Last month, after diligent note taking, web and library research, I successfully outlined what is to be the final stab at my play. Entitled Maggie and Marcella after Margaret Thatcher and Marcella Sands, Bobby’s sister and the name he used for his communications while in Long Kesh. I have outlined the story, defined the characters and determined root conflict and additional characters, all to be played by the same actor. I have also been doing extensive research on Margaret Thatcher and her perspective on the I.R.A. Her view towards this group interests me because it is a firm, intolerant, but politically pragmatic approach to a militant organization.

What has always fascinated me about our “enemies” is how they define themselves. The bad guys don’t wake up saying “I’m the bad guy, what bad thing am I going to do today?” At least, most don’t. In much the same way the I.R.A. defined themselves as a revolutionary army in an occupied country. The U.K. and most of the international community defined them as terrorists. As intolerable as that label is today, it did not allow you much negotiation time back in the 80’s either. Also, the idea of “the antagonists” began to fascinate me. Sands vs. Thatcher, Thatcher vs. Sands, Sands vs. the I.R.A., the I.R.A. vs. Sands, public perception and press coverage vs. reality, martyrdom vs. suicide, will vs. will.

Are we as we define ourselves or as others define us? Is Sands an instrument, a martyr, a suicidal maniac? Is Thatcher cold, ruthless, strong, and cruel? Is the I.R.A. a revolutionary army or terrorists? I believe that these questions still persist today with the state of international affairs and I hope to be able to scratch the surface of some of these as I develop two very real perspectives in Maggie and Marcella.

Love and Hate and the Stage

I opened a magnum opus of a play this weekend, The Oresteia with a great upstart theater company at the Clark Street Playhouse. It was stellar, it was a surprise, it was a lot of things. Was it fulfilling? That is the hard question. I am not sure what it means to have art fulfill me. I am sure that folks do know, but I have spent so much of my time analyzing the process, the result, the self within the art that I have lost touch with what it must be to be fulfilled. This whole inner dialogue opens up tons rhetoric about where one fits in art and what one expects from it.

Is art the lover that never speaks and does not reveal? Is it a love without condition or is it simply unrequited? What is reward and where does it fit? Does it even have a place? I have spent a number of years away from the stage due to many contributing factors. As I return I have notice that many have come home to the roost. Like an old flame when you see him or her again it’s as if time stands still. You are who you were "then" when you hear them, see them, or smell them. Those feelings that were repressed or reserved were only being preserved and are free flowing again. I speak of the ones that are not welcomed, but they show up at your doorstep none the less. And then of course, without thinking of the consequences or the unfortunate situations that may occur, you invite them in.

After leaving performing arts for almost four years, I actually thought that I did not need or want that kind of artistic expression in my life. I had thought I had reached as far into myself as I knew how to or was willing or capable of doing. I was wrong. I need to be involved in this kind of creative process. My time away has given me a better perspective. I have never enjoyed the creative process and result as much as I am enjoying this particular exercise right now. I have never been so at peace with the size of my roles or navigating the personalities of those with whom I work.

Then the demons come. All the little things that come back to visit. The artist’s inner hatchet brigade storms the fort: the naysayer, the self-doubter, nit-picker, the perfectionist, and that overwrought and ridiculous destructive kind of "self-awareness." It’s often difficult to tackle these little imps. You have to embrace them, literally force them to become useful to you. These are just a crop of backwards, reversed manifestations that rest within. If they must remain, they must be reassigned. They need to work on my behalf. I love the art, I love the process, and I love the outcome. I expect excellence, or at least a brave pursuit of that worthy goal. The key is to act without any judgment. A relaxation that allows the free-flow of creativity. This is one of the many exciting and challenging tasks that I face.

http://www.constellationtheatre.org/

Dreams of the Depraved

Over the years I have discovered that the acts that cause the death of brain cells also enhance good old fashioned feelings of euphoria. The list is clear: alcohol, drugs, gasoline and glue vapors, carbon monoxide and sleep deprivation, to name just a few. There are, of course, variations on these. Some of the results are from the lack of oxygen to the brain, which also feels good, but in the end it all involves us screwing with a delicate, fascinating, creative organ that just seems to thrive in an abusive relationship.

After experimenting with mild forms of brain-cell destruction, I found that one stood out to me above all others. I speak fondly and reminiscently of sleep deprivation. In fact, I was in such denial about my addiction with this exercise that I refused to accept that it was harmful. As ridiculous as that was, I eventually acknowledged a century of research and now embrace fully that I have abused my Third Eye and Crown Chakras to the point where they are not open or closed, they are so sprung from the back-n-forthness of it all that they are sprung and remain ajar. Certainly, the life nergy flows, unregulated and unobstructed. This is not necessarily a good or a bad thing.

I have been involved in back to back productions in a theatre company that has allowed me to experience the seductive lull of short sleeping hours. I’m not so sure why this is my preferred method of intoxication, but when it is good, it is amazingly good. I long for minimal slumber. Like an alcohol buzz, there are occasional “bad highs”, but with sleep deprivation you can literally will yourself into a pleasant place. With alcohol, if you’re cranky when you drink you don’t usually get truly euphoric. Maybe a dark, cynical satisfying sort of humor will creep into your soul, but you and those around you know that it is utterly false.

When I am truly exhausted, but functioning on fumes I find that my humor increases, my optimism soars, my acceptance of life is tantamount, my dreams are acted out before my eyes, my knowledge is freed. What I am is in a state of simulated relaxation and it is quite enjoyable. My goal is to reach this level of ease and comfort without having to deny myself something that, although it is not always as psychedelic as sleep deprivation is, it is one of my other favorite things: sleep. I do love to sleep. I love to not sleep. I am a fan of moderation, but I do not seek it where I should. To sleep can be to dream, but to be awake when one dreams is to be alive in a world like no other. Too bad you’ve got to kill to get there.

The Audacity of Self

As an artist I find that the only critic that holds me back is the one in my head. There are some artists who bare huge portions of their souls on the page, stage, by cutting through and away space and tone. I have flirted with this sort of experience, but found that I recoil before the suspension of my own disbelief can fully be engaged.

As a person I find that the critic interrupts my life more than it should. One could suppose that interaction with friends and family, perhaps even a healthy dose of therapy would help curtail the naysayer that resides just behind the temple, but one would be wrong to assume that this is all that it takes. It takes a combination of numerous factors ranging form sleep, diet, environment (past & present), submitting to trust and love, navigating and learning from conflict or failure. To surpass is to grow. To remain is to stagnate and to rot.

I am entering a challenging stage of my life. No more or less challenging than ones I have experienced before, but at this point, I am differently, hopefully better, but differently equipped than I have ever been before. My professional, artistic, home and personal lives are all at an interesting crossroads. In some ways they have no clear impact on each other, but the obviousness of their interrelationships transcends and brings me back to the critic that claims to be the voice of reason, caution, or wisdom. The critic is basing its recommendations on once serviceable, but presently outmoded mechanisms and experiences. The critic does not seem capable of growth or warmth, or even tolerance. The critic must be stopped, but how? The critic must be assuaged, but how? Embraced, educated and altered. Must the critic exist?

The Time Has Finally Come

Now I begin. I am a reluctant participant in this modern form of communication. The age of the pen as relic is fast upon us, at least with regards to "keeping in touch". After several years of denying its enivitability as a viable resource and even decrying the onslaught of often ill-informed and unsupported opinions that are repeated as fact, I have decided that I will take my place among the many and start my own web log. I can see how this is a wonderful tool by which those who know me, want to know me and so on can get an ideas of what is happening in my part of the world. And what I think about it. Even more rewarding is developing my network of friends and associates and learning about them. So there. Here I am. I begin. I am in desperate need of a proofreader so I make no promises, I make no claims that I will meet the Chicago "rules" of style as I let the words and language flow. I'm here to relay my point of view, as so many of us are. It it, of course, tainted by my own experience. Because of this I look forward to the growth of my network and the identity that I build. My varying interests have been honed over the years, but the ones that persist excite me to no end. I have not theme that I will follow. I am an eternal student of media, theater, politics, socio-economic philosophy, women, men and just people in general. I enjoy the accumulation of knowledge, useful, disposable and all that lies in between. I now present myself: naked, dirty, beautiful, right and wrong and grinning wide.