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| The Magic Chair |
Some thoughts as we prepare to open.
Working with Chris Craddock on his play Moving Along (version 3.7) over the last few weeks has been, as they say in French, mon plaisir. And I mean that. It truly has been my pleasure.
Chris is a hard working artist with a gift for always being quick to say “let me jump back in and try it again.” And he does. Try it, try it again, try it differently – many times – is what we all do a lot of. Test it. Change it. Test it again. I am amazed and constantly reminded that it’s through the act of repetition (and more repetition) that we are lead to the most profound discoveries, along with the (sometimes difficult) realizations about what is not truly needed. It’s then that we (the creative team of Chris, Dave Clarke, Paul Bezaire and myself) begin to develop a collective vision: we see, hear and sense where the heart of the story lies, where it flows, where we all truly believe that it’s working the best moment-to-moment. It’s a lot of fun working on plays with these artists.
We challenge each other. We argue. We hug it out. We laugh. And we even get teary in the rehearsal hall. Yeah, true story. And all of those vitally important things that so often go unsaid manage to get said by at least one of us (even when it’s not a particularly good time). They have to be said. It’s the only way for the show to truly meet its potential; the only way that the truth of the theatrical experience can be fully revealed to the audience. And this ain’t easy. (Even with artists who are like family.) But it’s necessary, vital even. It’s a challenge that is always in front of artists: to be honest about ourselves, and our work, even when it’s painful. To be brave, face our fears – and our lies – in the rehearsal hall in order to create a truthful, honest production.
That kind of raw honesty is hard work. But it’s rewarding as hell. And it can’t be avoided – when you’re working with someone like Chris Craddock, on a play as honest as Moving Along, you better be ready to face the truth everyday.
Yesterday, Dave Clarke called our process over the last few weeks an “organic working experience.” That got me thinking. If you add up all the ingredients that I’ve discussed above, then maybe, just maybe, we have a pretty decent recipe for making theatre come alive.
Working with Chris Craddock on his play Moving Along (version 3.7) over the last few weeks has been, as they say in French, mon plaisir. And I mean that. It truly has been my pleasure.
Chris is a hard working artist with a gift for always being quick to say “let me jump back in and try it again.” And he does. Try it, try it again, try it differently – many times – is what we all do a lot of. Test it. Change it. Test it again. I am amazed and constantly reminded that it’s through the act of repetition (and more repetition) that we are lead to the most profound discoveries, along with the (sometimes difficult) realizations about what is not truly needed. It’s then that we (the creative team of Chris, Dave Clarke, Paul Bezaire and myself) begin to develop a collective vision: we see, hear and sense where the heart of the story lies, where it flows, where we all truly believe that it’s working the best moment-to-moment. It’s a lot of fun working on plays with these artists.
We challenge each other. We argue. We hug it out. We laugh. And we even get teary in the rehearsal hall. Yeah, true story. And all of those vitally important things that so often go unsaid manage to get said by at least one of us (even when it’s not a particularly good time). They have to be said. It’s the only way for the show to truly meet its potential; the only way that the truth of the theatrical experience can be fully revealed to the audience. And this ain’t easy. (Even with artists who are like family.) But it’s necessary, vital even. It’s a challenge that is always in front of artists: to be honest about ourselves, and our work, even when it’s painful. To be brave, face our fears – and our lies – in the rehearsal hall in order to create a truthful, honest production.
That kind of raw honesty is hard work. But it’s rewarding as hell. And it can’t be avoided – when you’re working with someone like Chris Craddock, on a play as honest as Moving Along, you better be ready to face the truth everyday.
Yesterday, Dave Clarke called our process over the last few weeks an “organic working experience.” That got me thinking. If you add up all the ingredients that I’ve discussed above, then maybe, just maybe, we have a pretty decent recipe for making theatre come alive.
