Thursday, August 20, 2009

Time to put the season to bed

Ah the Hangar, where making theater 24/7 was our agenda for the past three months. So many great moments— Kayaking on Cayuga Lake, jumping in a gorge, and eating veggies fresh from the farmer's market on a rare day off. Stopping up doorways with towels and wet vac-ing water out of a drowning theater in a storm. Putting new plays on their feet for the first time for uproariously supportive audiences. Working with an amazing company of uber-talented artists in a totally bucolic environment. Creating the first site-specific 24 hour playwriting festival. Adults making children's plays and having a blast doing it. Chicken Soup, Paddington Bear, Grumpy and Lowly Worm signing autographs for wee ones in the summer sun. Real life drama that put into perspective the drama we concocted in rehearsal rooms. Mourning the loss of every project as we struck each set and catapulted toward the next rehearsal. Great people making great work day in and day out. Truly Inspiring. Hangar Lab Company, you will be missed!

Wednesday, August 19, 2009

A look back...

Well, our time at the Hangar has officially ended. It seems like just yesterday we were walking, excited and scared, into a new environment with new people – none of whom had any idea what to expect in the months to come. This summer certainly had its share of surprises, perhaps the biggest and most profound being the relationships that developed amongst our company. I was reminded that the main reason I am involved in theatre is for the people; the artists (friends, therapists, family) you surround yourself with who support, challenge, and inspire you as you collaborate to create an important, personal, meaningful work of art. They are also the ones who are there for you in the midst of crisis and struggle.

During the final rotation, I felt incredibly fortunate to be directing a new play by Krista Knight called Clementine and the cyber ducks. It was a rich and complex script that traces the mistakes and ultimate downfall of a woman in her struggle for independence. During rehearsals, I received a phone call that a friend from back home had been in a car accident and was in critical condition. In the moment it seemed necessary for me to be there with her, so Sherri – who was producing at the time – graciously agreed to take over rehearsals. Thankfully, my friend was awake when I arrived at the hospital and was on her way to recovery. Those couple of days are still a little blurry in my memory, being my first brush with losing a loved one. I was able to return to the Hangar, and was moved by the way everyone in the company had stepped up to support each other in this most unexpected of circumstances. It was one of those rare occasions where life intervened, and I felt fortunate to be working with such a caring and gracious company.

This experience put into perspective a lot of what I had been struggling with throughout the summer (and in my career thus far), and made it clear that we must know what is important to us – not only as artists but as orchestrators of our own lives. I am reminded of a discussion we had at the Directors Symposium earlier in the summer about creating a personal mission statement in relation to our goals in life and as directors. I know I have a lot left to learn about directing, but one thing I know for sure is that I must never lose touch with the fact that we are in this together – directors, actors, designers, stage managers, crew and audience alike – and must support each other in our efforts.

My time at the Hangar was a rare opportunity to engage in an intense, challenging, and invigorating few months with some of the most talented people I have had the pleasure of working with. I know that the lessons learned and the relationships cultivated will be with me always, and that I have the Drama League to thank for such an incredible experience. I feel especially fortunate to have met Sherri, Mia, and Jesse; they possess such amazing talent and I was able to learn so much from them about our craft as directors. I cherish every moment spent with them, every piece of advice, every late-night conversation, every quirk, and every catastrophe that we tackled together. They will be missed.