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/