Who Does This?

Rochester’s Black Sheep Theatre is about to make its mark on the national community theatre scene. The world can now consider itself forewarned.

Putting the Black Sheep on the Map

This past weekend, the community theatre group I helped found eight years ago was privileged to attend and perform in the American Association of Community Theatre’s Eastern States Theatre Association, Region II Festival competition on Saturday, April 18, in La Plata, MD.

We’d performed alongside very capable theatre companies from all over the Eastern seaboard. Groups from communities in Maryland, Delaware, Pennsylvania, New York, and The District of Columbia, who provide thousands of dollars of financial support in arts grants and private donations. We operate on a thinly held together shoe-string budget, and struggle to pay our rent each month. But we held our own. We made our mark.

And we won the show.

At the awards ceremony of the on Sunday, April 19, we sat together as we always do, as a theatrical ensemble, a united force, as friends. We’d dressed for the occasion. As most around us sat in shorts, denim, t-shirts and Birkenstocks, we sat in tuxedos, suit-coats, ties, cocktail dresses and strappy sandals. This was our Super Bowl, our moment; we were going to enjoy it, and bask in the glory of it. We didn’t yet know we had won, but we wanted to celebrate the accomplishment of simply being there amidst the greatness.

As we sat sipping morning cocktails and coffee, we joked and chatted with those seated around us. A true sense of camaraderie had developed over the weekend and lingered even that morning. It truly had been a friendly competition, many groups standing and cheering the others on as the curtain went up and came down time after time. Many stopped by to whisper and confide to us, “You got this!” and “Grand Rapids, here we come!” Grand Rapids, Michigan being the next stop for the victorious group with the winning show, to compete at the AACT National Festival in June.

Choosing to Say "Yes"

At one point, a man approached the table, and offered his compliments to a job well done. It had been an impressive show: a simple yet beautiful set, a gorgeous lighting plot, superb acting, and some stunning special effects (one judge described them as “delightfully creepy”). Then this man asked who was in charge. Who had been responsible for the production design? “Where is the director?” The others – I’m happy to say – proudly pointed to me.

The man continued to describe how he had seen the set – our wooden waterfront dock, about 6 feet by 9 feet – lying on the floor in the “on deck” area in the tech shop back stage. He confessed he had wondered what the heck we were going to do with the thing. Was it for transport? Was it for storage? How were they going to use this crazy thing?

Then he saw us setting it up. He saw our tech crew place the dock such that it extended past the edge of the stage, jutting into the audience. He saw them fasten and screw down the custom-designed front pylons for the dock, specifically measured and precisely cut for this stage, to fit perfectly, the height of the apron.

He said he watched as we set the “water lights,” an effect that used a string of Christmas lights in front below the dock to simulate moonlight sparkling off the surface of a salt water lake. He saw the eerie green and blue lights come up and our creative elements come together to create the Southern swampland world in which the play takes place. He said he watched all of this and thought to himself, “Who does this?” Who thinks to extend the set into the audience to literally bring them into that world of the play? Who builds a set piece that essentially has to be rebuilt each and every time the show goes up? Who, indeed, he wondered out loud, then asked us that morning, “Who does this?”

My colleagues, seated around me, and I smirked and smiled at each other. Then someone – Jared – spoke up. “We do,” he answered.

And we do. We’re the Black Sheep. WE do this.

Perhaps Too Stupid to Know Better

Maybe we’re just too stupid to know better. Maybe we're just too naïve to recognize the risk. Or maybe we just choose instead to explore uncertainty and fully exhaust the options before we decide.

I really think that last one. Yeah, that’s it.

You see, this particular moment in time drove home for me the reason my organization exists – exactly why we’re here. Someone – usually a potential director – has a vision. He or she has an idea that is creative, innovative, unusual, or even perhaps outrageous. And unlike others (I suspect, anyways) who may begin to provide all the reasons it can’t be done – too risky, too expensive, we don’t have the experience, our audiences won’t like it, we don’t do things like that – we, the Black Sheep, instead begin to brainstorm, create or invent different ways we can make it happen.

 

Make it happen. Make it so.

I am most proud of this aspect of how we choose our projects and mount our productions. Yes, we have limited resources. Yes, we have a small, unconventional space. Yes, many of us come from backgrounds other than technical theatre, having learned what we know through what I like to refer to The School of Hard Knocks. But instead of considering all the reasons we can’t, we instead choose to explore all the ways we can.

We’re the Black Sheep. And now that we’ve won Regional honors and can boast the title AACT/ESTA Festival 2015 Outstanding Production First Place, the world had better get ready: here come The Sheep.

See The Sheep. Fear The Sheep.

Rochester’s Black Sheep Theatre: Yes. We can.

And yes, we do.

(Photo credits, Kristy Angevine-Funderburk, KristyK Photography)

Rochester's Black Sheep Theatre received the following awards and recognition at the AACT/ESTA Fest 2015 Region II Festival Competition: Outstanding Production, First Place; Outstanding Achievement in Acting to Jared Lee Morgan, for his portrayal of "Martin;" Outstanding Achievement in Acting to Colleen DiVincenzo, for her portrayal of "Eden;" The Spencer C. "Spence" Watson Award for Excellence in Technical Theatre

The Torture That Teaches the Truth

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Pain can be … well, a pain. But it can also be a catalyst for change, fulfillment and happiness.

Should I stay or should I go?

For many of us in unhappy relationships – be they friendships, romances, partnerships, employment – this can be an agonizing decision, to say the very least. At that crucial crossroads in my own partnership/relationship, when friends would ask me if I was OK, I’d say, “Everything hurts.” I was referring, of course, to the body aches, migraines, joint pain, pressure and exhaustion that come with the territory of any stressful situation. But here a year later, I am starting to realize not only how frighteningly accurate that statement was, but how far down deep the pain actually went.

That pain, I realize now, was the catalyst for change. I realize now how I had decided to use that pain.

The litmus test was: I knew it was time to go when the pain of staying outweighed the pain of leaving. I knew there would be pain in leaving. The lyrics to my favorite song (at the time) said, “The path to Heaven runs through miles of clouded hell.” And it was hell.

What I Was Never Going to Get

Where exactly was the pain of staying? There were things that I needed and wanted in order to have a happy, fulfilling relationship that he was not giving me, even when I asked for them. He continued to second guess my feelings, ignore what I’d asked for, and instead provide a cheap substitute. He’d do the bare minimum that might come close to what I was asking, and believe it should be good enough.

Now, he did do a great many things to keep our relationship healthy. I must concede the … inconvenient … truth in that. There were a lot of good and positive things about the relationship. But. I was also missing some key and crucial elements I felt I needed to be happy.

Notice, I didn’t say “make me happy.” More on that in a bit.

There were some very important aspects of the kind of relationship I wanted and the kind of relationship I gradually found myself in. Among others, these were the critical success factors absent from our partnership:

• Fair give and take
• The feeling of financial security
• Deeper appreciation, not just verbally but demonstratively
• A voiced and respected opinion about everything. Everything.

I’m not talking about petty little annoyances and irritating personal habits. We all have those. You work through them. You learn to live with them.

But these … these were deal-breakers.

He was no longer the person I’d fallen in love with. He had changed.  To be fair, I had changed, too. We all change; all relationships change. People learn to love and grow with one another. But he had strayed so far away from the core of what I’d grown to love, and what I’d learned to trust, there was no way to make it right again. The man I knew was slowing disappearing before my very eyes.

I tried to explain what had changed and felt I made it very clear. Time and again. I asked for some help in fixing the problems. Time. And. Again. To do that would require that he stop doing what he was doing, and start doing something different. I needed him to develop some healthier habits, which would require more change. Well, he wasn’t interested in that kind of changing.

[Actually, once I started the business of breaking up, he suddenly became very interested in working it out. But by then it was too late.]

And I knew I couldn’t change him.

[Reminds me of that old joke: How many therapists does it take to change a light bulb? One – but the light bulb has to really want to change.]

The Pain Within My Power

So I had to think and I had to decide:  “What can I do independently of him changing that will provide me what I need to be happy and healthy?” He had made it perfectly clear, time and again, that it didn’t matter what I needed, wanted, and asked for. He wasn’t going to do it. He had been crystal clear.

It was up to me. But what could I do? Over what did I have complete and utter control?

When stated that way, the answer was simple: I had to take care of me. I had to make some serious life-altering changes, no matter how painful. I even knew, I even realized at the time, this was probably one of the most difficult (if not THE most difficult), painful decisions I ever, ever would have to make. But I also knew I had to do it. To stay in that relationship, with him not doing a single thing or making a single effort to try to provide what I needed and wanted, was for me slow death. Agonizing and tortuous.

He had to go; I had to take care of myself.

Taking Care of Yourself Doesn’t Make You’re a Bad Person

He called me selfish, he called me cruel. He called me a lot of other things I don’t need to repeat here. He said I didn’t care about him, that I didn’t care where he went or what happened to him. True or not, it was how he saw it. The truth was, he was unwilling to face his own pain. For him, it would be easier to continue to live with that pain. My pain.

It’s a lie to stay in a situation where the other person thinks you’re happy, if you’re not happy and you do nothing to communicate your pain to your partner. That’s what I had been doing for so long, almost three years in fact. I’d lived with that lie because I couldn’t face the pain that breaking up would inevitably bring. The house, the car, the pets … what was going to happen to them? How could I ever find the strength to do what I knew I had to do?

What I had to do was to forget all that and focus on me. My needs, my wants, and my happiness. Deep down, when it all came to the end of the fairy tale, no one in this world cared about me (or should) as much as I did (and still do). It was my turn to be taken care of.

Is that being selfish? Is that being cruel?

No. Not at all.

What I had to get him to realize is that this decision to end our relationship wasn’t a ruling against him. It was rather a decision for me. For many years I had been there: supporting him, paying his expenses, covering his health insurance, making his car payments and purchasing the insurance. I had made the sacrifices, given in, helped him get his way. Supported even the stupid choices he was making. In a way, I was responsible for his ignorance of the true pain of the situation, because I wasn’t insistent enough, all along the way, that he think about me as much as I thought about him.

Now it was my turn to think about me. If that was being selfish, if that was being cruel and unfair in his eyes, then so be it. I’d let him think that. I knew I wasn’t.

I knew I was being human.

Lessons Learned

What about you? How happy do you want to be?

No matter your answer, it’s important you realize that no one – no one – is going to do that for you. No one can make your happy. Your response to your situation is entirely up to you. If it’s a painful situation, you have basically two choices: do nothing and live with the pain (some would call that denial); or, do something to change the situation.

Maybe you need to take care of you now.

You are the one who cares most about your happiness. You are the one who can (and should) make sure you get what you want and need to be happy. You are the person in the world who cares most about you.

No one else can make you happy. No one else can really make you feel anything, if you don’t want to.

But that’s the topic for another time.

Re-Envisioning the Visionary

The craziest thing about directing in community theatre is bringing together an unrelated, unfamiliar bunch of talented, creative, dedicated and concerned artists and entrusting them to change the world. The crazy part is not in trusting them to do so; the crazy part is in believing they actually can.

The Optimal Director: What To Do That Gets Results

Auditions for my next project, Mark St. Germain’s Freud’s Last Session took place this week. I plan to bring the show to the Rochester First Niagara Fringe Festival this fall. In addition to that, I am still smack in the middle of bringing one of my greatest triumphs as a director – Feeding the Moonfish, Winner, Best Short Production of 2014 at the Theatre Association of New York State’s Festival Competition – to the regional Eastern States Theatre Association ESTA Fest next month. 

[To help support our campaign to go to the AACT/ESTA Fest, please visit our IndieGoGo page.]

There are also two other projects heating up at our humble little black box theatre: an evening of original one act plays for June, and a delightfully irreverent comedy called Sordid Lives for July.

Never a dull moment for the Black Sheep!

And every time … every time … I start on a new adventure to direct a community theatre project, inevitably, either right after auditions or just before the first rehearsal, I find myself looking in the mirror and thinking (sometimes actually saying … out loud), WHAT WERE YOU THINKING?!?

Lately I seem to be going from one project right into the next, despite my continual promises to myself that as soon as this one is over, as soon as this one closes, I’m going to take a break.

And yet, I never do.

What is wrong with me?

It’s a Sickness … Or at least a Fetish

I’ve wrestled with this conundrum on and off for the better part of the past 10 years. Why do I keep coming back for more? It certainly isn’t for money, we all know that. It certainly isn’t for the glory, because the director never (well, hardly) ever gets to take a bow. I’ve given it a great deal of thought and I think I have an answer. Two things really.

First, it's nothing less than the love of Lady Theatre that keeps me going. She is my inspiration, my true love and my muse. She challenges me, comforts me, frustrates me, and even laughs at me. She sucks up my time and burns out my body. Yet my passion for her cannot ever be fully described. She has drawn to me the most wonderful, amazing, gifted and giving people: friends, lovers, sisters, brothers, confidantes, protectors, and guides. She is the work that makes my life worth living. I do have a job that feeds my bank account. She gives me the work ... that feeds my soul. I jump in and out of the director's chair, time and again, and it just seems that each time, after each fantastic, maddening, frustrating and exciting production run, I just can't wait to climb up into it again.

Second – and I am just recently coming to believe what I’ve been told time and again by those I admire, respect and love in the business – I guess I’m actually pretty good at it.

This has been particularly difficult for me to accept, because I truly believe the only thing I have a talent for is finding talented and amazing people with whom to surround myself, who can make me look really good. After all, I just do what comes naturally.

But lately, I thought that at least for my own sake, I might put a little more thought into it and try to figure out exactly what I’ve been doing so successfully for so long, that I’m fortunate to continually have that pool of talented and amazing people from which to select each new dream team.

It’s not brain surgery, to be sure. In fact, you may read these and see them as nothing more than pure common sense when working with community volunteers – especially artists, whose temperaments and egos, not unlike my own, can range from the fragile and sensitive to the downright overblown and exaggerated. Such is the human psyche. But there is a reason I share these things with you here and now. Remember: I’ve actually been told on more than one occasion that I may be pretty good at this.

Super Eight: Consistent Behaviors of the Optimal Director

So here are a few initial thoughts. Knowing me, as my work progresses, I will no doubt add to the pontifications below. At least perhaps, you might find something useful in these words.

Be open to others’ ideas. It’s important for a director to have a vision, but it’s equally important for her to remember theatre is –at its best anyways, should be – a collaborative art. You’re in the director chair for a reason. Your super-power (we all have them) lies in your ability to successfully bring a story from page to stage. So play to your strengths, but recognize and accept your limitations. It’s ok to ask for help when you aren’t the authority or don’t know the answer. The answer is out there; your job is not necessarily to know it, but to find it.

Find something to praise. This is something I learned and took directly to heart when I was first training as a manager in the corporate world. People like to know they are doing a good job. And they like to know exactly what they are good at. So be specific in your feedback. Don’t make the mistake of running your notes sessions in a “no news is good news” fashion, because if you do, you are shooting craps in getting the best performance out of your dream team. Like what you see? Tell them. Tell them early; tell them often.

Provide constructive alternatives to what you don’t like. There has to be something you didn’t like about the choice that was made or the result it achieved. Tell them what it was. And don’t ever do line readings, for godssake whatever you do!

Instead of giving a line reading, try this. Acting is the art of making choices. And choices that “work” simply mean that the intention matches the impact. So when I’m not getting the impact I want, I start by asking what the intention was. If the stated intention does not match the impact, then I’ll simply say, “I don’t believe you. Make me believe you.” And ask them to try it again. If the stated intention does match the impact, then I ask them to change the intent. “Try it this way,” I’ll say. “Try it with this intention instead.” It works. Every. Time.

I know there are directors out there who think line readings are the ultimate way to get what you want out of your actors. To them I say, if you are so bad at what you do as a director that the only way to get what you need from your actors is to give a line reading, then get out of the chair, put down your script, and go do a puppet show. Really. Do us all a favor.

Notice the details. We recently received some very positive feedback on our production of Later Life, by A.R. Gurney. The compliments were about the costumes: the fabrics, the patterns, even the accessories like jewelry and scarves, right down to the shoes. The shoes. This is attention to detail. But I’m talking about more than attention.

I’m talking about noticing. Feeding the Moonfish takes place in Florida. In a salt marsh. In the summer. Needless to say, it’s hot. There are maybe two or three lines in the show about being hot, and the characters are costumed appropriately. But these two actors do a marvelous job of acting hot. Consistently and throughout the entire play. That’s worth noticing. You can bet I noticed, and I told the actors, too, because it does as much for the story itself as it does to create the world of the play.

And that’s what theatre storytelling is all about. Believability, credibility and transporting the audience to another world.

Accept people on their own terms. A director is not a dictator. We give direction and guidance, it’s true, but we must also be open to the input and contributions of those we have chosen to work with.

That’s right. Chosen. Our actors choose to work with us by coming to our auditions. We choose who to work with through that audition process. And if you are lucky enough like I am to have a vast pool of perfect candidates from which to choose when casting my shows, you have the opportunity each time to create your very own Dream Team.

Don’t piss that away, and don’t ever take it for granted.

Actors have skills. They are there with you, working with you because they have talent, intellect, creativity, willingness to risk and most of all, they want to do the work. Let them.

Have a specific vision but be willing to re-envision. You can’t hit a target you cannot see. I remember this from my days as a leadership development trainer. Setting expectations early on in the process plays a vital role in getting what you want during the process and as an end result. But you have to lay it out.

Know the right questions to ask at auditions and ask them. Know what you want from your actors and don’t be shy about telling them. Communicate the vision. Set early expectations, yes, but be flexible when you can’t get exactly what you want. One of the most important responsibilities we have as creators of living art is to be open to the outcome, not attached to the outcome. Don’t get so buried in having your own way all the time that you miss out on some hidden or unexpected spark that can come from (believe me) anyone, anywhere.

Allow each person his or her own integrity. I put this one in here because of the many horror stories I’ve heard from actors about having to do or even wear something that made them uncomfortable or made them feel threatened. When setting blocking and selecting costumes (and a dozen other tasks we have as directors), I always –always –set my priorities at safety, comfort, performance, confidence. In that order.

Blocking, entrances and exits need to be safe. Costumes need to be comfortable … at least, reasonably so. And if they can’t be comfortable, steps should at least be taken to lessen the discomfort. Ice water and fans back stage when actors have to wear wool in the dead of summer. Heat or blankets when they are outfitted in beachwear in the winter.

And there’s one more thing worth mentioning here about costumes. An actor should always be consulted before being forced to wear something too risqué or revealing. Both men and women. I’ve had to deal with guys going shirtless and ladies wearing low cut tank tops, and I always, always asked before making the final decision, if the actor was OK wearing the thing in public. I let them know they could say “no,” and that other options would be explored.

We want to put on a good show, it’s true. But in community theatre, we also want people to have an enjoyable and rewarding experience with us, because –if you’re like me –you want them to come back and choose to work with you again.

Respect peoples’ time and talent. These are gifts they own and have chosen to give to you. Accept that, respect it and be damned grateful for it. Publish a rehearsal schedule and stick to it. Start rehearsals on time. Be flexible when you can and be clear early on when you will no longer be as accommodating. I generally tell my casts that the first few weeks of the rehearsal period, I will do my best to work around conflicts and last minute changes. People have families and jobs and that’s only fair. But I am also crystal clear to communicate that come “crunch time,” two weeks out and Tech week itself, YOU ARE MINE. I tell them to clear their calendars now and to avoid any potential conflicts as they come up.

These are not indentured servants, these are not employees. These are volunteers who are willingly and selectively giving up their time and lending you their talents … because they love the work. It is crucial to your success as a leader to recognize that and respect it.

In turn, you will earn their respect.

The Power to Change the World?

I have always looked at the job as director to be one of honor and privilege. It is a position of power and with it comes the commensurate responsibility. The responsibility to create an atmosphere of honesty, trust, mutual respect and support, and open communication. It doesn’t work if you don’t.

This is ensemble. This is together.

Live theatre is important work. It is worthwhile work, and adds value to the world. We’re not curing cancer. We’re not saving lives. But are we changing the world? I believe we are. At least, I believe we can. The power of live performance, especially theatre, does have the potential to change the world. Because when you bring together a group of passionate, considerate, dedicated, creative, trusting and caring individuals, you can expect miracles. Never doubt that such a group of people can truly change the world. Because when you get right down to it, it’s the only thing that ever has.

(Photo credits above, top to bottom: Photo by Paul Scheib, November 2014; Photo by Kristy Angevine-Funderburk, KFun Photography, The Sisters Rosensweig, April 2014; Photo by Marty Nott, Feeding the Moonfish, November 2014; Photo by Kristy Angevine-Funderburk, KFun Photography, Vincent, April 2013; Photo by Charlie Cooper,  Later Life, February 2015.)

[Diane Mashia has been recognized four times by the Theatre Association of New York State for Excellence in Directing. At the state-wide TANYS Festival last fall, her production Feeding the Moonfish was honored with Best Overall Production Design and Execution. Next month, Feeding the Moonfish will compete in the Eastern States Theatre Association Festival competition in La Plata, MD. Donations are now being accepted to help fund the project. To lend your support, please visit https://www.indiegogo.com/projects/feeding-the-moonfish-at-the-esta-festival.]

It Takes a Little Courage

Eastern States Festival is a Big Pond for Small Fish

In a few weeks, my community theatre group, Rochester's Black Sheep Theatre will participate in a theatre festival competition alongside eight other groups from NY, MD, PA, DE and DC. From our humble beginnings to our most recent successes and recognition, competing and even performing at a venue such as this to an audience of this size and nature is a very big deal for us.

As many of you know, we perform in a space of less than 1000 square feet that seats fewer than 50 patrons, and operate on a very thin shoe-string budget. We all have day jobs and everyone is a volunteer. Most people in community theatre have similar stories and similar situations.

But we're different.

Quite Literally the Black Sheep 

What makes us so unique is, let's face it, we're really small fish. In a city that includes theatres like Geva, Blackfriars, JCC Centerstage, The Downstairs Cabaret; venues like Dazzle Theatre and the Multiuse Community Cultural Center (MuCCC); and countless suburban community groups, we have always felt like (and perhaps been regarded as) the black sheep of the family. Hence, yes, the organization's name. Even as the Artistic Director, I don't have initials after my name (like MFA or even BFA). I have no formal training. Our space is in a residential hallway in what used to be a warehouse and is besieged by structural, cosmetic, and electrical issues. We struggle to pay our rent each month. I'm not complaining, mind you. I'm just laying out the facts as I see them to put the whole ESTA Fest in perspective.

Because despite all these things, we do damn good work. Really damn good.

We will be representing not only Rochester, but the entirety of New York State at the festival later this month. The pride and admiration I have for the artists who will accompany me to La Plata is boundless. I'm not saying we should be regarded as "hometown heroes make it big." 

But it sure feels like it. 

News from AACT

Anyways. The press release prepared by the American Association of Community Theatre, who puts on the festival, is printed below. I wanted to take this opportunity on this particular personal soapbox (i.e. my blog) to do a bit of bragging. 

Because I'm just so damn tickled to be going.

[By the way, we are still raising much needed funds to help us get to La Plata and back, and could sure use your help. Information about a couple of our programs is included in the press release. Please consider participating by lending your support. You'll be glad you did. :-)]

ROCHESTER’S BLACK SHEEP THEATRE TO APPEAR
AT REGIONAL AACT FESTIVAL

Rochester’s Black Sheep Theatre of Rochester, New York is proud to announce that its production of Feeding the Moonfish has won the honor of performing at Eastern States Theatre Association (ESTA) AACTFest 2015 Region II festival to be held at The Port Tobacco Players, Inc. in La Plata, Maryland April 17-19, 2015.

To be eligible to perform at the ESTA AACTFest 2015 Region II festival, Rochester’s Black Sheep Theatre performed at the Theatre Association of New York State (TANYS) state festival in November 2014. In addition to winning the 2014 TANYS state festival, the production was honored with Festival Adjudicator Awards for Best Ensemble Acting to Jared Lee Morgan and Colleen Divincenzo, and Best Overall Design of the Festival.

Rochester’s Black Sheep Theatre is hoping to receive top honors at the ESTA AACTFest Region II festival so it may perform at the national community theatre festival this summer in Grand Rapids, Michigan. AACTFest 2015 will take place June 23 - 28 and will showcase 12 community theatre productions from across the United States and the U.S. Military Overseas.

AACTFest 2015 details are available at aactfest.org/15. The public is invited to attend both the regional and national festivals.

The group, who normally operates in a theater venue of fewer than 50 seats, will now perform in an auditorium that seats several hundred. “The production translated very well from our space to the theatre at Cayuga Community College for the state Festival,” says Diane Mashia, Artistic Director of Rochester’s Black Sheep Theatre, who also directed Feeding the Moonfish. “We are confident we can bring it now to an even larger venue. This is a tremendous opportunity for our cast and crew,” Mashia continues. “Considering most of them have no formal training,” as many working in community theatre do.

To raise much-needed funding, the group is holding a gala fundraising event, “Moonfish at the Festival: The Start of Something Big!” on Sunday, April 12 at the Bachelor Forum, 670 University Avenue, Rochester, NY, from 2:00 to 5:00 p.m. There will be a silent auction, 50-50 raffle, door prizes, and lots of other fun. They are also running a crowd funding campaign through IndieGoGo [https://www.indiegogo.com/projects/feeding-the-moonfish-at-the-esta-festival].

AACTFest is a program of the American Association of Community Theatre. It is a biennial event that has been held since 1969.

The American Association of Community Theatre (AACT) is the resource connection for America’s theatres. AACT represents the interests of more than 7,000 theatres across the United States and its territories, as well as theatre companies with the armed services overseas.

Colleen DiVincenzo and Jared Lee Morgan in Feeding the Moonfish.
Photo by Marty Nott. 

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[Diane Mashia has been recognized four times by the Theatre Association of New York State for Excellence in Directing: Later Life (2015); Feeding the Moonfish (2014); The Sisters Rosensweig (2014); Vincent (2013). This will be her first trip to ESTA Fest.]