This is the Marspril blog. Why Marspril? I couldn’t get my head and fingers around writing and publishing in March, so it’s a hybrid, “Marspril.” March mixed with Mars and a sprinkle of April. Perfect, as it is sprinkling right now. What is it they say, “April showers bring May flowers?” If the rain is any indicator, we will be inundated with blooms!
March madness
Bye-bye Bertha. It was a whirlwind. Opportunities abounded to work on the practices of focus, being in the moment, and joy. I wrapped up Pippin at Stumptown, and I miss that goddess, Bertha, the company of players, the musicians, and the show. Audiences loved it. The Prom is next up for Stumptown. Check it out and support live theater!
Marvin’s rescue
This is as far as I got in March; written as though it’s current. While the activity isn’t, the feeling is:
I’m in my dressing room at the beautiful Ellyn Bye Studio Theater in a new play, Marvin’s Rescue, by Marv Ross. Last week, some of our cast sang to the dogs awaiting adoption at the Humane Society, one of our production partners, and, oh woman, that was a wonderful day. Visiting the pups that had recently arrived, some of whom had been rescued from harrowing situations, left not a dry eye among us. You can watch some of the experience here. It’s a unique partnership, three theaters and The Humane Society joining together to produce this special show. I look forward to more of these kinds of partnerships as arts institutions restructure and leave outdated models behind.
Marvin’s rescue update
Our run was dotted with doggie visits in the lobby and loads of audiences drinking in the love and story of Marv Ross’ beautiful show. Stay tuned for what happens with the show next.
April showers bring May flowers
This career I chose gives ample opportunity for reflection. Jobs last from one hour to one day, to months on end. In addition to time spent, they differ in style and demands. I might work from my home studio, be on-set in person, or have a rehearsal schedule that leads into performances, some as many as 9 times a week. Children’s shows sometimes run 11 performances a week! For SpongeBob SquarePants at Portland Playhouse, I’ve spent the last six months learning how to play the clarinet and have revisited my tap-dancing skills.
Throughout this work, I’ve been pondering where my meditation practice and creative process cross in my mind’s eye Venn diagram. Puttering around with the idea that if one believes in the praise received, you also believe in the critiques. Some I’ve received have been harsh, some even verging on cruel. There are the forgotten lines, sour notes as well as the standing ovations and accolades.
This work is the perfect storm for introspection on what really matters. What do I want in my life as an artist? What do I take in, and is my journey as an artist any of anyone else’s business?
Am I, my work?
As I spend a lot of physical time in creative workspaces; sometimes it seems so. As I parse it out, I am much more than the artistic work I produce. I adore being an artist. Being in the room where it happens. What is “happening?” Human connection: sharing stories, taking risks, telling stories that reveal what it is to be human. Hearts that start to beat in the same rhythm as we share space. I imagine that can happen in other workspaces, and here it is our deep intention. The idea that we are all artists living and working in a loving community. That’s my jam.
The other night at work, another artist shared how the rehearsal room can inspire fear that they aren’t good enough. I resonated with that. How is it that I can accept and love myself in front of respected colleagues, take risks, and love and appreciate myself when there’s a goof. A sour note, a missed line. How do I turn off my “I’m not good enough” sensor?
I’m working on it.
The first principle of the Unitarian Church is to affirm and promote “the inherent worth and dignity of every person.” Guess what, that means YOU (and I mean you, dear reader, and me as well!) As gorgeous Mark Darcy fumbled and bumbled to Bridget Jones: “I like you, very much, just as you are.”
What others think of my work is none of my business. Head down, and off we go!
I gleaned this from a meditation retreat and write it almost every day:
May my actions be toward the good, toward understanding myself and toward being more peaceful and may they be for the benefit of all beings everywhere.
Does my artistic life bring me joy and the opportunity to explore what it is to be human? The gamut? Yes. Is it challenging to be emotionally vulnerable in a public setting? Yes. Is it what I’m meant to do? Yes, I think so, for now.
Am I only as good as my last hiring? Nope. Is being human the best thing I can do as an artist? With all the foibles that come with it. Yep. Onward. ;/