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.