Move back...

I’m moving back to my parents’ house on the 20th of this month.

The idea began to brew while at CLOC. My time at the fantastic Harlem apartment - the deal of a century - was to end, and the idea of searching for a new place with little funds gave me that sick-to-stomach pit. Not to mention, my life was changing, outlooks broader, and dreams shifting from performance to direction/choreography. Did I necessarily need to be in NYC now to “become” a director/choreographer?

Things started to happen when I moved here from the comforting confines of home in February of 2011. I auditioned more, I networked more, I created more for myself. How could I leave that, that connectedness, that odd "beating down to the ground" support only NYC can provide?

Pondering amongst summer-stock, beached sunsets, and over-priced pizza, the thought of leaving the greatest city on Earth equated failure: I didn’t/wasn’t able to “make it” well enough, thus had to flee back to Mommy and Daddy...

A very wise friend told me, cutting through (and finally off) the spouting fears of judgment, that moving back was not a failure if I made something of it.

It was then that I started to take this choice as an opportunity. This could be a time to re-evaluate and see the different avenues of this field. This could be the time to learn more about famous directors and choreographers, furthering my own creative aesthetic through those comforting walls of a cheaper living situation. This could be that time to reconnect with family, traveling to be with and learn from extended families’ differences and similarities. 

I came back to NYC with this pretty secure, yet open to change-and-stay attitude. But with each day counting down to my move-out date, I continued to feel drawn to the opportunities that Connecticut could provide. Connecticut has a fantastic theatre scene and can be a wonderful place to work and create. I look forward to hopefully returning to some of the connections I already have there while also meeting new people and creating with the many other talented companies there. 

But it's something else that has been the most intriguing aspect about leaving NYC that continually comes to mind: I don’t want to be creating theatre from the adventures of NYC anymore. It’s already been done and over-done. I want to explore specifics in my own life’s events and escapades outside of this city concerning my faith, family, and other interests in this life that I wish to explore/try out. There's too many to list here, but the ideas are endless. I personally find theatre about experiences that I never would have thought of, stories that are so opposite of the NYC way of life, to be the most fascinating because I am transported completely. That's the kind of stories I want to share through theatre.  

One example: People that know me know that I have a weird obsession and love of farming. My dream is to retire on a huge farm or ranch where I can live out my life tilling the ground, feeding the chickens, riding horses, and holding my husband’s hand on our porch (Well, only if Obama is President...). 

So, this upcoming January, I am heading down to Todd Langstaff’s Maryland farm to help out his Aunt Lee with lambing season. Yes people, I’ll be birthing lambs. It’s something I always have wanted to do, to learn, and be a part of. Thus, when the opportunity arose, and having no NYC ties, I took it because it’s important to me as not only an artist, but as an individual to be a part of an experience like this. Some may ask, “How does birthing lambs make you a better artist?” I have no freaking clue, but you never know...

I’m terrified about moving and hating that I'm leaving this city behind. I’ll miss it terribly, but I know NYC isn't going anywhere (Yeah Sandy, even you can't take us down.). And luckily, I’m close enough to come in every so often to get my city-life-fix every now and again. 

Here’s to the road of my art taking yet another turn...

Family.

Family.

“3a: a group of people united by certain convictions or a common affiliation: FELLOWSHIP” - Merriam-Webster Dictionary

Family has been on my mind a lot recently. I have been trying my best to pick out every moment when "family" bubbles forward amidst everything else going on, to mash-up and feel through the folds of my mind.

***** 

Earlier this month, my former a cappella group, the infamous Middlebury College Bobolinks, came to New York City for their fall tour. That rainy Monday night, I sat in those very straight pews at a Brooklyn Heights cathedral, next to Bobolinks-past, gleaming a smile wide enough to reach faraway lands and bright enough to blind the darkest places of your mind. It was a mixture of seeing the Freshmen from my Senior year being the leaders, still knowing backgrounds to songs, and seeing a whole new group with other stories where I once stood. 

I am able to proudly state that I am a Bobolink-Super Fan. Maybe it has something to do with this feeling that I took advantage of this family at Middlebury; the Bobos were always the ones I was ditching for whatever else was happening. Yet, they never let me go, and I couldn’t be more grateful.

As I joined their post-concert festivities, I worried that I would be sent to outskirts. I was obviously going to be unable to keep up with all the newness, all the changes that occur when unfamiliar members come in semester after semester. And there I sat, amongst the same Bobolink family from my own college years. The group seemed to barely have changed, and I only really knew 25% of the current members. I was shocked, but didn’t think about it too much and enjoyed the escape the Bobos provided for my evening. 

The good things will never change in a family. That’s what I saw here. 

*****

After every theatre experience, it almost seems custom to tell everyone in the process, “Now, don’t you become a stranger! We MUST hang out and keep in touch when we’re back in the city.”

Well, that just doesn’t happen.  

But with CLOC, it has been different. My NYC-CLOC family has been by far the most supportive group. They’re just always there; it’s almost like I can’t get rid of them. Are they following me? I mean, we never have to catch up because we see each other so often...

All joking aside, it’s mind-boggling that we could affectively bring our experience of our summer, being together 24/7, back to this city of cancelled coffee dates, unclearly busy work schedules, and passing moments of connection. 

Then there are those few CLOC-adoon-ers away from the city who continue to be present in my ever-awakening experiences here. Those special individuals that support from away, giving me strength like none other. It’s hard to believe how someone from hours away can be the one who gives the most clarity to the hardest of situations at hand. I can’t understand how it’s possible, yet it continues. So I stop questioning and start thanking.  

Simply be there for everyone in your family; always be taking more time to appreciate everyone’s talents and moments. That’s what I’m seeing here. 

*****

Everyone has their own definition of family. Mine will continue to evolve, and I look forward to each stepping stone upward. 

Sandy brings something...

Sandy really struck a chord with me. Not a good one necessarily, but a chord. 

Snap. 

There was something bitter-sweet about this storm:

I couldn’t - can’t - get anything done. Transportation is out. It's hard to get a hold of people. Storm’s pressure still floats in air, tense. 

But last night I fell asleep at 9:30 and didn’t wake up till 8 this morning. Eyes glued themselves, stitched. 

There was nothing to do but let my inability to do anything take over. And it did, in sleep.

The past weeks have been... They’ve been like... Well... 

It’s been a spans of weeks where you feel like everything was just a bit off; nothing went exactly as how you planned, but close to. Not horribly off, more similar to a nagging itch. Or an eye twitch. It’s actually more like an eye twitch when I think about it. A big one.

There’s so much going on, and I haven’t shared it here at all. Sure, I could spout some guilt about how I haven’t updated in a long time, but whatever that’s meant for just doesn’t make sense for me. Here and now at least. 

So, I’ll start writing about what I’ve been doing and thinking of as I’m stuck here in my apartment. And for whoever reads, for whatever reason you read, I hope it brings something. Just something. That’s all I ask: have something appear to you. 

Stay tuned. More to come in the next few days.

Sandy... You’re a bitch, but thank you for making me sit down and truly see, or is it see something true?

End and Death.

Endings are always a jolt for me.  

News of a death never seems real.

It takes days,

an intricate weave of events,

to see what has happened.

Form of denial?

Probably. 

Most likely.

As I thaw in days passing,

a decompression

of some sorts,

truths suddenly sparkle within.

Always known,

never seen -  

Well...

Acknowledged.

An end is a kind of death.

A death is a kind of end.

Both finite feeling.

A blunt edge. 

A steep-dropping cliff.

A fog-ridden grove.

So, when an end and a death met me last Saturday night

I moved on, 

unable to see, 

unable to want to see.

How can I put

everything I saw,

everything I wanted,

everything I learned,

everything I felt, 

here

for you

to read

and residually feel?

I can’t,

and I won’t try.

It’s not because I don’t want you to know,

to be a part,

to see my experience...

It’s just impossible.

Well, as impossible as that finite feeling...

Ends and deaths are never finite,

on a larger scale

that is.

We always move forward from both,

taking what we saw,

what we wanted,

what we learned,

what we felt.

My time at CLOC was a blessing.

My Gramps was the strongest man.

My memories of both will throw me forward.

A future awaits.

Opening up to so many possibilities. 

Chipping through the fear to do just this,

to be brave enough,

to let down guards,

to glimpse toward unseen futures.

Past those cliffs.

Through the groves.

There are gonna be a lot of changes soon.

So I’m gonna keep thawing,

letting the natural times un-clamp my being.

+++++

Thank you to the absolutely wonderful staff, cast, and crew of the College Light Opera Company’s 2012 season for opening my eyes to a whole new world. You are all family now. 

Thank you to my amazing Gramps, the “Cranky Yankee” filled with the softest and most huggable marshmallow fluff under his tough gruff. Thank you for showing me what it means to be Beeman.

Contemporary Love Of Classics

There’s something truly necessary for a classic musical, a Golden-Age theatre moment, to read for our contemporary eyes, ears, and minds: 

BELIEF. 

If you don’t believe, the story will never soar. Truly, this goes for all theatre, but having worked on many classics this summer, I’m seeing how important this dedication is for this specific vein of theatrics. 

“It’s just a fairytale cliche,” many say. You can’t fall in love in one day; that’s such a stupid disguise that would never fly; IT NEVER WORKS OUT THAT WAY IN THE REAL WORLD! 

And how do I respond to that?

You’re absolutely right. It’s a flippin’ musical for goodness’ sake...

How do you make these instances become significant? How, in the blink of an eye, do you separate your audience from the outside - that lingering dread and worry of getting the laundry done and hoping someone let the dog out - as to bring them into a world unlike their own? 

BELIEF. It’s a big word, I know; but this constant idea, this force, brings life and a reason for living. 

I’m not expecting that the audience will come in believing. To enter already separated from their daily grind would eliminate the very reason for musicals. It is our job as artists to communicate a pathway upon which our spectators can easily fall onto and follow forward. 

And how does that yellow-brick road appear? The artists’ BELIEF in the story they’re sharing.

You have to go there even though it may be so unbelievable to you that it sickens you. However, when you as an artist completely give yourself to the story, to the seemingly basic and platitude ideas of classic musical theatre, new ideas blossom for our contemporary souls. With this belief, the classics strip down the contemporary human condition to it’s inner oscillating dreams. Thus, when presented by contemporaries to other contemporaries, the depth and beauty of the story’s happenings are purposefully carried to and passed onto the audiences who dare to go there.

I dare you to go there. Whether you are an artist or audience member: DARE TO BELIEVE. When you do, you’ll see something beyond. I can’t tell you what you’ll see (no one really can), but I know it will be something over and above what you believe you’ll find. 

Look deeper; something is there for everyone to see.   

Caress. Learn. Observe. Company.

Where can I even start?

So much is flying at me; every moment filled with putting something together. It could be a dance sequence, a scenic exchange, and many a times it’s my own sanity. I’ve never felt such a need to fill my artistic banks in which to draw choreography from. Without this, it’s like trying singing without any breath or making a chocolate cake without chocolate. To make sure this doesn’t happen, I’ll watch dance videos on YouTube, work on a new cabaret, listen to a soundtrack of a musical opposite of the CLOC style, ANYTHING: The replenishment must be separate from the show of the moment.

Thus, as I blog, I’m listening to Mariah Carey... 

This past Friday was our second round of auditions for shows #4 and #5 (Candide and The Student Prince). We have 32 singers in our vocal company, 16 men and 16 ladies, and each  VC member is in all nine shows. Our auditions throughout the summer are to cast specific leads and other roles for the upcoming productions. I have said it before, and I’ll say it again: I’m not a very good auditioner. What’s great though is I feel I’m learning so much by being on this side of the table. I’m seeing what works, what reads, and what the great auditioners do to capture attention. 

I see these souls auditioning before me, these individuals whom I work with everyday and love as my own, wanting each of them to get that role they’ve been pining for. Then I’m a part of the process of not allowing them all to reach their dreams. In a way I’m learning that casting does truly come down to some really random reasoning: Who is the best person to play opposite this other person we cast? Does he/she look the part? EVERYTHING. 

While difficult, it’s a necessary process, and in a way it can be quite invigorating. We as the creative team are placing pieces together, setting an illustrative demonstration of musical story-telling. And in that creation, you see how important every puzzle piece is, how every soul that auditioned for that lead is essential, actually vital for the production. 

Here’s to seven more shows with these wickedly talented people; I can wait to see what’s to come. 

Creation. Layers. Ovation. Cloud.

I am in love. 

The College Light Opera Company must be Cloud 9 itself. 

I’ve been up here just over a week, but it feels like it’s been months and that I’ve known these talented individuals for years. I can’t explain it properly really, but I can try: We’re planted here and given limited time to cause art, ultimately weaving an afghan of comfort, intricacy, and security. 

Never have I ever been a part of a schedule as rigorous and adrenaline-pumping as this. How did I ever think two weeks was a short rehearsal period??? With such confinements comes a specific creative problem solving technique, one only acquired with roots in a process such as this. Thus, my choreography has been pushed to edges I’ve never witnessed, teetering on it’s daring edges, catapulting into cacophonous and juicy moments of live theatre. 

Once again, Cloud 9. 

I can’t believe I’m here till the end of August. I know the harder times will come, but it’s all in the name of art, correct? I’m so grateful to be a part of this company and to be surrounded by such geniuses of growth in grace. 

It’s truly a grand time.