Last night, some of the students from the MCC Youth Company came as our audience for the final dress of Room for One!
It was particularly special as Alec is the Playwriting Lab Assistant. As Lucy pointed out, his students got to see that he works as hard as he asks them to work and is as brave as a writer as he asks them to be. It was a perfect first audience for this beautiful play.
Have had a blast working on this show! After playing around with a few different soundscapes for the show, we're zero-ing in on what will be the final decisions. We've got about five different options for each scenic transition, and now it's just the fun part of putting that puzzle together and seeing where each makes the best impact. Have had a lot of fun thinking about what kinds of music best lines up with these beautifully realized characters and scenes that Alec has written.
Seeing this play form is an example of what this theatre company has set out to do: create a genesis for young artists to set a strong foundation for their artistry. Some would say this beginning stage is the breaking point called artistic suicide wherein artists give all of themselves to achieve a deeper level of expression and enlightenment. Seeing Alec develop his expression to enlighten the rest of us has enabled me to dig deep in order to develop myself, and I can't truly say how thankful I have been as I continue my quest. All in all, this process--like this play--had been what Marlon Brando once identified as the genesis of artistic suicide:
We are talking about great artists--great known artists--and they should all be studied and revered and copied and held in esteem. I'm all for that, but I think we are wasting our time--you are wasting your time--if you only focus on the great stage performances or the adagios or the arias or the novels. All of those things emanate from the very human desire and gift of expression, and it is around us all. We might draw comfort, and we might find some distant and necessary friendship, by reading Tennessee's plays or listening to Ravel or Aaron Copland, but what it is speaking to, I think, is our own artistic soul, our own artistic attempts.
My mother's name will only appear in texts or in conversations because she was my mother--the mother of a man who inexplicably became famous. I want you to know, however, that my mother was a great artist, a powerful artist who poured creativity and ingenuity and brilliance into raising her children, infusing us all with imagination and the ability--with no paranormal influences--to remove ourselves, to lift our bodies and our minds, from locations and situations that were brutal. That is art, and if we studied people like my mother, there would be shelves of books on her work with her children, her friends, her small circle of enchanted friends. Tennessee's mother was like this. I bet yours is too.
We walk among art each and every day--not just the music and the buildings and the offerings of professional so-called artists. Examine a life--any life--and you'll find the artist at work. We survive by so many means, by the crafting of characters, the stringing together of words and biographies that get us from nine to five; from humiliation to humiliation; from sunrise to sunset. Study those artists as well. And ask all of us so-called professional artists how we might encourage everyone to build and honor that artistic impulse within all of us.
The artistic suicide is not only the drug-addicted actor; the alcoholic singer; the writer who makes bad choice after bad choice. Artistic suicide, like charity, begins at home.
So what's your home? It wouldn't hurt to investigate this question as you see Room for One.
The last week before tech: It's when our heads are finally out of the text and taking a full step (or stumble) into the world. I think plays in production develop a lot like the human body. I love this time in rehearsal, when all the work and growth starts to catch up with you; all the bones come together to make a skeleton. From where I sit, at this time the show always feels like a baby taking it's first steps -- and it's both beautiful and terrifying to watch. Who knows how far it will go-- and where are the places that it needs help, needs balance? Obstacles are never more clear at this time-- they'll knock you over (hopefully figuratively) and that's a good thing, so you know where they are. Alec's play is a remarkable exploration of human connection and human loneliness -- and it's a joy to step into from both a creative and technical angle. He's done so much work throughout the process-- I have so much faith in him, in his artistry as well as integrity. And these actors have really given their all, taking great risks in the process. We're lucky to have them, as well as our tireless production team. I'm very proud of the work we've done, the anatomy we've discovered. I'm looking forward to our second run this Thursday -- and despite this snow storm (our latest obstacle), our design team is coming to watch! I have a feeling they'll help me find some missing bones.
The Middle Voice Theater Company is the apprentice company of Rattlestick Playwrights Theater. Middle Voice is a collective of young actors, directors, designers, and playwrights from diverse backgrounds. Our mission is to create theater that embraces risk and encourages ensemble, and to reach different class segments in American society through the company’s work. The Middle Voice strives with our theatrical productions to create meaningful conversations with its audiences, founded in the belief that starting a conversation has the power to breed mutual understanding.