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. 

###

[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.] 

The Power of Live Performance

Theatre: The Artform of What It Means to Be Human

Heightened Communication

Theatre on the community, grassroots level has been an enormous part of my life for the better part of 20 years.  Growing up, I took music and dance lessons and performed regularly in front of a live audience. But I didn’t discover the theatre arts until well into adulthood. I first became interested in the stage as a means to meet people and become involved in my community. Little did I know then the power and influence this seemingly innocuous “hobby” would infuse into my life. Nothing I had experienced before and nothing I have been involved in since has made me feel more alive, confident, scared, and inspired than the work I have done in community theatre.

And I know I am not alone.

What is it, this power the theatre has over those of us who fall under her spell?

To answer that, we need to explore what the art-form really is in its purest form. Theatre is the art-form of heightened communication. That’s all it is. It’s when you take very conscious, deliberate, measured and carefully considered communication – human interaction – and transform it into art. Certainly, not an easy or simple thing to accomplish. But it has been around forever.

Since the Dawn of Time, theatre has been at the center of the societal circle, providing a forum for dialogue, a means for the People to come together in the spirit of creativity and collaboration. Live performance – above all other two and even three-dimensional art – does more to raise awareness, provide a call to action and, in short, create a forum for dialogue. Here, society can see life mirrored on the stage, and witness a bright light shine on what is important in society, what has meaning and what needs immediate attention.

Artform in Action

This year, I will have the unique pleasure and privilege to work with an ensemble of incredibly talented theatre artists in competing at the regional level with community groups from all over New York, Pennsylvania, Delaware and Maryland. Rochester’s Black Sheep Theatre’s production of Feeding the Moonfish will participate in the Eastern States Theatre Association (ESTA) Festival competition in La Plata, MD in April. Needless to say, I am over-the-moon with excitement at the prospect of what is sure to be a life-influencing, if not life-changing experience.

To even get to the ESTA Fest, our group had to compete and win at the state level. Last November, we were ecstatic to perform in the Theatre Association of New York State (TANYS) Festival competition at Cayuga Community College in Auburn, NY. Five other short programs also competed, and we were delighted (and a more than a little bit humbled) to have been victorious in our efforts.

Now it’s on to La Plata and the ESTA Fest.

And if I can make an attempt at balance between humility and pride, I must say, I firmly believe we have fairly favorable chances to do well there.

Extraordinary People Doing Extraordinary Work

First of all, Feeding the Moonfish is a deeply moving story. In it, we meet Martin, a young man who, on the edge of a saltwater lake in Florida, slips away each night to “talk” to the fish that feed at the end of a dock. Always believing himself to be completely alone in his secret ritual, he is surprised and angry to find one night that he has been spied on by a curious and obsessive teenage girl, Eden, who has hidden herself in his car to see where he goes. As Eden confronts Martin, dark secrets from the past are unearthed, and the unlikely pair of strangers come to understand they are bound together through similar experiences of loneliness and tragedy. The new bond they forge over the course of the evening proves not only to be transformative and redemptive, but provides a sacred connection between these two very broken, very tragic characters.

Feeding the Moonfish draws on the influence of natural forces, the significance of memory and the power of human connection to weave a ghostly and surreal tale of loneliness, violence and a young man's fear of himself. In short, the story drills down to the very soul, the very core of what it means to be human.

Secondly, the cast and crew of Black Sheep Theatre’s production of Feeding the Moonfish are an amazing group of human beings. Working with them, seeing them embrace the story, share their own insights, and bring Martin, Eden, and even the Moonfish themselves to vivid and tangible life has been one of the most intense of my amateur theatre career. Emotional, sensitive and intense, their performance each time pulls from us from within and transports us from the theatre auditorium and plunges us into the dark and lonely place that is the saltwater marsh of the setting … and the depths of the young protagonists’ souls.

It is truly an extraordinary production.

We Need Your Help

We are prepared in every way to do proud the state of New York, the city of Rochester, and our own Black Sheep Theatre as we take the stage in La Plata next month. But we need your help.

Supporting our efforts is easy, and you have a few great options to participate.

•     Visit our IndieGoGo campaign at:
o   http://www.indiegogo.com/project/preview/01b468b2

o   Or, just go to www.indiegogo.com and Search for Feeding the Moonfish

o   Lots of great perks at all levels of giving!

•     Make a donation to our Silent Auction, to be held on April 12 at our fundraising extravaganza at the Bachelor Forum in Rochester

o   Gift certificates

o   Artwork

o   Crafts

o   Gifts

o   Services

o   All donations gladly accepted

•     Come on down for the mayhem and merriment, and join us for our gala fundraising event:

Black Sheep Theatre’s “The Start of Something Big!”

The Bachelor Forum, 670 University Avenue, Rochester, NY

Sunday, April 12 from 2:00 to 5:00 PM

Door prizes! Silent Auction! 50-50 Raffle! Drink Specials!

And much, much more!

For more information on these and other exciting opportunities to help, please contact us at info@blacksheeptheatre.org. 

At the Core of What it Means to Be Human

Working on Feeding the Moonfish last year and this has been an oasis of appreciation and belonging for me. I experienced several tragedies last year – loss of a relationship, loss of young friends and colleagues – and this year, when I lost my job of 10 years. It never, ever ceases to amaze me, even after 20 years, the magnitude of the power that working in community theatre has over me. It’s often so indescribable that I find myself wondering, “What did I do to deserve this? What did I ever do to deserve the friendship, the gratitude, the love? What did I do to deserve such amazing and wonderful people?” 

And all I can fathom is that somehow, somewhere, in this vast and unexplainable universe, sometime in my torn and tattered life, I must have done something right.

How Do You Measure "Sexy?"

What Makes a Man Truly Sexy?

Personal Reflections on My Own Top Ten

A few weeks ago, I read an essay entitled, “Eleven Things That Make a Man Instantly Sexy.” They were fairly mundane characteristics in my opinion, and I found  them to be as applicable to women as to men in a relationship. I agreed with them; most of them, anyways. But there were a few that were obviously lacking.

So I decided to make my own list.

For the past few weeks, I have been observing the men in my life, and paying particular attention to the way in which we interact with each other. Now, I love all the men in my life – my friends, love interests, colleagues, family – and I do find some particularly sexy. [Yeah. You know who you are. I’ve probably told you personally at one time or another, how I feel about you.] As a result of my observations, I began to compile a list of my own.

So now, I present to you, the Ten Characteristics I Find Most Sexy in a Man. In no particular order.

Passion. To be attractive, a man has to have passion. For something. Be it his professional work, his family, children – grand children – or something he does for fun or personal fulfillment, a man with a passion for something which he pursues with enthusiasm and energy is exceedingly attractive to me. Guys who approach life in a pedantic, plodding way are, to me, banal and insipid. Like eating a mashed potato sandwich on white bread. Bland, bland, bland. Give me a guy with passion for something he loves to do, and I’m instantly drawn to him.

Depth. Shallowness is quite distasteful. Beyond distasteful. Sickening, in fact. A man who is phony from the get-go – especially if he thinks I’m too stupid to notice – can just keep walking. I’m far better off without him in my life.

Sincerity. Honesty and truth are important in a friendship or relationship, but that’s such a common cry from women, it’s almost a truism. Sincerity is different. It starts with honesty, trust, and truth, but I’m talking about a man who is genuine. No airs, no pretense, no conceit (which, by the way, is the ultimate turn-off), but a genuine human being, represents himself in his words and actions, and doesn’t ever pretend to be something he’s not, in a misguided attempt to impress me. Never. Ever.

Talent. Now, I am firm believer that everyone has talent. A super-power, in fact. We are all super-heroes in some way. What is incredibly sexy in a man (or woman, for that matter), is that not only has he discovered and recognized his super-power, but he is actively pursuing it to perfection. A man who has the desire to develop this talent, practice it, hone it, and share it with the world. Ooh. Yeah.

Articulate. And by that, I mean a man who is well spoken. It’s an instant turn-off to me, when a guy cannot express himself properly. An attractive man is thoughtful, mindful, and considerate of the words he speaks before they come out of his mouth. It proves he’s a good communicator. That he doesn’t mind discussing things. And not just talking about our relationship; but sharing with me his life, his thoughts and his dreams in vivid detail. I am a very good listener. I relish the opportunity to show off that particular skill.

Self-Awareness. The unexamined life is not worth living. There is nothing more distasteful than a man who refuses to get to know himself. And it doesn’t matter how he does it. Perhaps he reads books; or he’s been on retreat; spent a week in the forest with just his thoughts; something that says to me he has a deep-rooted interest in learning what he can about himself and applying it to his life, if, for nothing more, to make himself a better man.

Compassion. Does he love animals? Feel empathy with the young, or very old? How does he consider the feelings of others, and in turn, my feelings, in our relationship? This is true in friendly relationships as well as romantic couplings. Sexy is the man who sees beyond his own needs and desires and can feel compassion for another living creature. Again I say, whoo. Yeah.

 Gentleness. Along with compassion, I find gentleness extremely attractive. This is perhaps one of the first attributes I noticed in all the men in my life whom I find sexy; one man in particular whose gentleness manifests itself physically in his hands. He has lovely hands. He is attractive in many other ways, but his hands. He has beautiful hands. And he also knows how to use them. A gentle touch. A gentle word. A kind gesture. This is the man I want close to me in my life.

Intelligence. It’s important that I qualified these characteristics as “in no particular order,” for if I had bothered to rank them as I wrote, intelligence would without question be at the top of the list. I’m not the first to recognize smart as the new sexy. “Cute and stupid” is a dangerous combination.

And finally ...

He worships me! He hangs on my every word, he buys me gifts, he showers me with expensive jewelry … OK. You’ve got to know I’m kidding. Seriously, what I’m talking about here is the ability to see beyond my exterior. He listens to understand me. Or at least in an attempt to understand me. A guy who accepts me for who I am, sees who I am, and loves me anyways. This is the ultimate, epitome of sexy.

A sexy and attractive man is not perfect. He has his weaknesses. He has his blind spots (don’t we all?) and he is aware they exist, even if he doesn’t know what they are yet. As one man I find particularly sexy put it, “I prefer to think of it as flawed in attractive ways.” Knowing that he’s not perfect. Knowing and accepting that we’re all constantly growing and changing. This, this is a sexy and attractive man in my book.

He can rub my feet any day.

But, that’s for another post, another time.

Because We Can

Reflections on The Unstable Elements 

Theatre – live performance before a live audience – has always played a vital role in society writ large. Over the millennia, the purpose of theatre has at once been to entertain, educate and to tell the Truth (capital T). Live performance raises awareness, provides a call to action and, in short, creates a forum for the People to come together, to see life mirrored on the stage, and shine a bright light on what is important in society and what needs immediate attention.

Last night, along with about 30 others, I attended a screening of Dangerous Acts, a 2011 documentary about the Unstable Elements of Belarus of the Belarus Free Theatre. The film chronicled their rise from clandestine performances before perhaps 20 patrons at a time, to international recognition in New York City and Great Britain (the ensemble’s work has been recognized with world-wide acclaim including a 2011 Obie Award, among other accolades). The story of the fate and lives of these eight ensemble members is brazenly chronicled against the backdrop of the pre– and post– December 19, 2010 election activities in Belarus.

The Belarus Free Theatre fulfills this vital role of theatre in society: they courageously (and dangerously) choose to tell the truth. The truth about the oppression of the people. The truth about a brutal dictatorship that operates with impunity, much like the Soviet regime who reigned before it. They tell the Truth, with pieces like, "The Disappeared," "Zone of Silence," and "Minsk: 2011." They bravely and brazenly provide this forum for discussion, mirror life on the stage, and bring into bright light what’s important and what needs attention –in their country and in the world. Simply put, they explore the myriad of taboos holding hostage the population of a post-Soviet Belarus.

I won’t go into the details of the injustice and indignity borne on the backs of the people of Belarus, appropriately described as “Europe’s Last Dictatorship.” Although worth far more than a thousand words, suffice it here to recount what was shared by one of the actors in relaying the results of said “election.” So says she: “There is a joke in Minsk … (incumbent President) Lukashenko’s men come to him after the election, and say, ‘We have good news and bad news. The good news is that you are still President. The bad news is … nobody voted for you.’” [As a side note, editorials about the antiquated process followed by the outdated use of our Electoral College and “hanging chads” aside, the votes we cast in a U.S. Presidential election (and all elections) do count. Registered voters who don’t vote and taxpaying citizens who don’t register are yet another peeve of mine. A big one. An infuriating one. But for another blog, perhaps.]

I was a member of Amnesty International for two years in college, and for about a year after graduation. I remember the narratives on the plight of political prisoners and I wrote letters to petition for their freedom. Unstable Elements brought back to me some of the same feelings of outrage and injustice I felt twenty-something years ago as I penned letter after letter and with tears of rage, signed my name. It’s impossible to watch the unfolding of such atrocities happening in our world in our lifetime and not be so moved. It was, to put it mildly, an amazing performance.

Immediately following the screening, there was a talk-back with the audience, led by local theatre community leaders Michael Krickmire of the SUNY Brockport Theatre Department; and John Borek from the Multi-use Community Cultural Center (MuCCC) on Atlantic Avenue. The discussion was moderated by Caroline Yeager, Assistant Curator, Motion Pictures, at the George Eastman House. A main topic for discussion was why, in America, do we not have this kind of theatre? Why doesn’t anyone here do political theatre?

Well, we do. Let’s not fool ourselves by burying our heads in the sand about the issues showcased and stories told by theatre groups that do choose to tell these stories. They are there, on college campuses and socially conscious community theatres nationwide. I’ve seen them. I’ve participated in them. The issues are different, it’s true. We fight for marriage equality, gender equality, gay/bisexual/transgender rights, an end to illegal police brutality and political corruption; an end to child abuse and domestic violence; we fight for the right to die with dignity. But I must admit: we do not have “this kind” of political theatre here. Not like this that the Dryden audience experienced last night. Not like the Belarus Free Theatre.

So, let’s assume the premise stands solid. Why not here? Well, for one thing, we have other outlets to raise awareness and call the people to action in a technological society. We have film, the internet and other forms of more “efficient” mass communication. I think that’s a good thing – a very good thing – and I’ll refrain from my standard rant here, about how people just don’t talk to each other anymore.

Another answer to “why not here?” is quite simple: because we have a Constitution. We have a Bill of Rights that guarantees certain, what we would consider, basic freedoms. We are free to speak, to think what we want and say what we think. Our journalists enjoy the freedom to report facts, no matter how unsavory and inconvenient to the power structure (and, it’s well worth noting here, the right to protect the sources who bring them these Truths). We are free to peaceably assemble, to protest injustice, and fight for equality in all realms of our lives. Do we take these rights for granted, because we have enjoyed them for so long and have become complacent to the freedoms these rights enable? Let’s hope not. Hope also, that the next time you bitch and moan about the government or politicians and what “they” are doing to this country, you remember to be damned glad you can.

Because you can.

Because people in countries like Belarus can’t. In Minsk, there were mass arrests following post-election protests; thousands of citizens beaten, arrested, tortured and detained for nothing more than gathering together to demand justice. No weapons, no looting, no fires, no vandalism, no violence at all. Just peaceful protest followed by imprisonment. Endless imprisonment. No defense. No attorney. No legal advice. Just false imprisonment.

And something interesting was also asked by the moderator of our post-screening talk-back. “Interesting,” I say, because, although perhaps innocent, it was at once sad, rather ignorant and amusingly naïve. How is it, wondered the moderator, that this can happen? How can so few in power oppress the masses at large, so many in number? Well, without launching into diatribe about how history is replete with examples of the suffering of the few at the hands of the many, there is a simple answer to this question.

Because they can.

It is because of realities such as this that the Belarus Free Theatre must operate in secret. There is no advertising, no publicity; just word-of-mouth and the internet. Tickets are sold only by phone, to avoid accusations of illegal commerce. They rehearse and perform in hiding. They are in such constant danger that they cannot divulge where their theatre is located. Patrons meet on a street corner, and the Stage Manager emerges to escort them to the theatre space –after asking, “Did you bring your passports? (We don’t expect trouble, but just in case).”

I cannot imagine my theatre having to operate in secret. I cannot imagine our actors and other artists risking their lives to tell our stories and to speak our truths. We have no such restrictions. We have no such … dangers (doesn’t even begin to describe it).

Because we don’t –because we are free to think what we want, write what we want, say what we think, and perform as we please– we must. In grass-roots, member-supported community theatre, we must continue to tell our stories. We must continue to tell our Truths.

Because we can.

(Feeding the Moonfish, TANYS Festival Winner, Best Short Production, 2014. Jared Lee Morgan, Colleen DiVincenzo. Photo by Marty Nott)

“Take Your Meds!” Not a Joking Matter

Over the past few weeks and months I've been subjected to a tremendous number of pressures in my personal and professional life, causing me extraordinary stress. Work has been crazy to say the very least. My theater company participated in (and won) a statewide competition. My personal life has been dealt some serious blows by friends I thought loved me. And then the stress of traveling for the holidays... yeah. 

Now, everyone experiences stress of this nature, and I know that. I know more than most, I believe, as sometimes it is difficult for me to deal with situations and navigate life in ways ordinary people can easily do, with little effort. In the deepest, darkest valleys of my life experience, for example, just getting out of bed could be a struggle. Taking a shower took almost all the energy I could muster, to the point that I would need to rest – physically rest – prior to getting dressed or putting on my makeup.

And all this because I have a mental disorder. I am mentally ill.

Treating My Illness

My mental disorder is Major Depressive Disorder with Generalized Anxiety Disorder (MDD with GAD). It’s not terminal, or even life threatening in any way. But it is incurable. It’s treatable, but I will never be completely cured.

The good news is that modern pharmaceuticals have been able to treat my disorder for decades now. With the birth of Prozac in the late 1980’s, those suffering various forms and intensities of Anxiety and Depression have been saved by a class of drugs known as Selective Serotonin Reuptake Inhibitors (SRRIs). In that class of drugs, you will not only find Prozac (fluoxetene), but also Paxil (paroxetene), Lexapro (escitalopram oxalate) and Zoloft (sertraline), among others.

[Sidenote: Another class of Depression treatments that includes medications such as Effexor (venlafaxine) and Wellbutrin (bupriprion) also aid in the reuptake inhibition of nor-epinephrine and dopamine, other neurotransmitters that aid in the regulation of mood and emotional states.]

Now, I’m not a physician. I have no medical training beyond a CPR course at the local Red Cross. But since my Depression diagnosis in late 2001, and subsequent Anxiety diagnosis three years ago, I have done more than a little reading and research in order to better understand my illness. I like to think I know a little more than the average person not so inflicted.

Here is some of what I learned.

Serotonin is a neurotransmitter that aids in regulating a human being’s mood. What happens in Depression – and really, no one knows how, why, or when – is that either the brain cannot manufacture enough of the chemical, or although manufactured in sufficient quantities, for some reason as yet unknown, the bloodstream absorbs whatever quantity of this neurotransmitter is available, and sweeps it away before it can do its job. Thus, the individual cannot easily control his or her emotional states. The mechanism simply isn’t there. SSRI medications prevent the bloodstream from robbing the brain of the necessary chemical, enabling the individual to enjoy more normal levels of these essential neurotransmitters.

Lest I amble down a neuro-chemical bunny trail, my point is simple. Depression and Anxiety, although considered mental disorders, do have a physical manifestation. Something in the brain and body has gone wrong, and the mechanisms necessary for a full and balanced life cannot function unaided.

A Much Maligned Affliction

Although the physiological results are well-known and documented, they are still much misunderstood by the general population.

Again, I am not a doctor, but I recognize that the prevailing understanding of physical illnesses – sickness, disease – is that they are generally caused by some pathogen, a virus or bacterial infection. There is generally no blame, judgment or chastisement of the afflicted attached to such afflictions. They’re not (generally speaking) behavioral in nature.

However, society seems to have a somewhat skewed perception of mental illness – and particularly, Depression: You must have done something or made some mistake in your lifestyle or behavior. You’ve caused this, brought it on yourself, neglected yourself in some way. That’s why you’re depressed. It’s all in your head. Stop thinking sad thoughts. Be positive! Just snap out of it.

But that’s the trap: we cannot “just snap out of it.” The physiological mechanism simply isn’t there.

To draw an analogy, consider Diabetes, a chronic, debilitating and incurable illness. Sometimes behavioral (poor diet, a sedentary lifestyle, etc.), often genetic in nature. With certain types and severities of Diabetes, the individual may be prescribed insulin, to combat the fact that the body does not function as it should. This chemical keeps the person alive and functioning.

Such an individual cannot function without insulin. You’d never dream of saying to this person, “It’s all in your pancreas. Just snap out of it.” A diabetic can no more “snap” their pancreas into producing the right amount of insulin to counteract the effects of excess glucose in the bloodstream, than someone with Depression can force their brain to produce the right amount of neurotransmitters, or “snap” their bloodstream into not washing it away before it can work.

Think Before You Speak

I take a daily dose of a medication that essentially keeps me functioning as, what I hope to be, a valued and contributing member of society. Juvenile jokes and snarky remarks about “taking your meds” aren’t funny to me. They are hurtful. They are harmful. They perpetuate the misconception that a person suffering mental illness and taking “meds” in order to function normally is somehow at fault. The intent of such comments may not be to hurt or harm, but that’s exactly what they do.

So please. Next time you’re tempted, no matter the situation, please think twice about making a joke about mental illness or the medications that treat it. It is difficult enough for the mentally ill to navigate the world without pharmaceutical assistance. We don't need the added anxiety such ignorant, insensitive comments can bring.

We don’t want to be sick. We want to be well.

Depression hurts.

Words can be painful, too.

(Dismount soapbox.)

The Truth Tied Up With a Pretty Pink Ribbon

The Truth Tied Up With a Pretty Pink Ribbon

I do a lot of things when I can’t sleep. Mostly I lie there and think about stuff, but sometimes I grab my phone, hop on the internet and check out Facebook. Of course it’s fun to see what people post at these times of night, but reading down the newsfeed tonight (or this morning, depending on your personal propensity for delineating one day from the next), it occurred to me: Facebook is really my way for me to feel good about myself.

Let me try to explain.

Years ago when I was a professional public speaker and communication consultant, I did what you’re supposed to do – what a lot of professional speakers and trainers do – and conducted exit surveys of my audiences immediately upon the conclusion of each session. Now, those of you who do this sort of thing for a living, be it training or public speaking, know the value of such evaluations is limited to gauging the immediate gut reaction of only those who had strong enough such reaction to take the 90 seconds it took to fill out the thing (usually a series of questions or statements responded on a likert or numerical scale). But they offer little to no reliable metric about the true return on investment in holding the seminar in the first place. But such evaluations are all we’ve got, so we use them and take them for what they’re worth.

Anyways …

If I had been hired by a third party, I would usually scan through the stack of evals (almost everyone completed them in those days), make mental notes about things they liked, found valuable, planned to share with others, etc., and also about the things they said that could help me improve my skills in my chosen craft.

I will never forget this one seminar – I think the topic was, “Professional Etiquette: More Than Using the Right Fork” – and if memory serves it was for a group of credit union employees in Massachusetts. I did my thing – my dog and pony dance, I used to call it – laced with the right amount of humor, balanced with my own gems of wisdom, and laden with (what I hoped were) helpful suggestions for making their business world a better place. Something like that. At the conclusion, as usual, I asked participants to complete the post-seminar evaluation, as the third party who had hired me (a Credit Union Association), was hoping to hold more such seminars as they’d enjoyed that evening.

As a side note, I’m not sure if they’d enjoyed the evening because of the seminar, or because of the prime rib dinner they’d just consumed, but I digress.

As people filtered out, they left their completed forms in the designated box, and when the last person had left I, as a matter of course, picked up the stack of opinions and began to read. Most were filled with the kind of innocuous flattery that came with the territory of working in the industry. I read through the stack, smiling here and there at the high scores and kind words offered by the many fine folks who’d attended and truly enjoyed the seminar. Then I came across this one evaluation that was just plain awful. The participant hated everything about the seminar: the food, the wait staff, me, and even my hair. This person had criticized everything about me, including my accent, as a complete waste of her time (I assume it was a woman from the way it was written) and the company’s money. It was like a slap in the face, one critical evaluation amid the torrent of compliments whose warm glow I’d just bathed in. I set it aside and went on to the next one, and it was filled with the same level of censure. And so was the next one. Three ego-destroying litanies, one right after the other (I figure they sat next to one another). It was like, “Ouch,” and then, “Ouch!” and then, “OUCH!” again. Well, I finished reading the evals, packed up my goodies, got in my car and commenced the long drive back to New York. But I was mad.

Really mad.

My inner monologue over the next six hours ranged from “How dare they” to “Oh my God, they’re right. I’m completely worthless.” It was a painful commute. Beating myself up over what these women had written – despite that 97 other evaluations (there were about 100) had been nothing but praise – allowing their opinions to have tremendous power over me and how I felt about myself, my career, and my life (one had actually written, “Don’t quit your day job.” Well, I said they were critical. I didn’t say they were original in their insults). I was, to say the very least, in a very … bad … mood … when I arrived home.

That’s when it dawned on me.

You see, one of the other seminars I offered at the time was on assertive communication, and one of the main themes of that seminar was around the concept of “letting go.” One particular pain point we discussed was letting go of caring so much what other people think. It was inspired by a chapter in a book I’d read in this area, by Maria Arapakis, entitled SoftPower: How to Speak Up, Set Limits, and Say No Without Losing Your Lover, Your Job, or Your Friends (a fabulous read, by the way, but sadly out of print. I found my copy on Amazon). The idea of letting go of caring so much of what other people think was that in doing so, we free ourselves to make decisions and choices in our lives we can truly own and own up to. If you allow others to dictate what you should or shouldn’t do, you will eventually find yourself, one day, at the end of someone else’s life. You have to live with the choices you make, so you might as well make them for yourself. As Maria put it, you are the expert, after all, on you (hmmm, perhaps the subject of a future blog post?).

My point is that I was allowing the opinions of three petty women to have tremendous power over my own opinion of myself, to the complete exclusion of the other 97% of those in attendance, who thought the seminar offered the greatest workplace advice since “Never let them see you sweat.” NINETY-SEVEN PEOPLE had offered praise and affirmation, but instead of believing them, I had chosen to believe what they had to say was crap, and that these other three were the only ones who spoke the truth.

Well, the next morning I went into my office and gathered up all the evaluations, cards, letters of recommendation I could find, which I had received over the course of my career. I read through them, picked out a dozen or so of my favorites, put them in a small shoe box, and tied it all with a pretty pink ribbon. I slipped the box up onto the shelf of my closet and kept it there, and even added to it over time. After that, whenever I received criticism or negative feedback – whether well-deserved or not – that tempted me to go down that emotional rabbit hole of self-loathing, I’d reach for that box, untie the pretty pink ribbon, and read through the contents, all the while reminding myself: this, too, is the truth.

I don’t have that box anymore. It, along with many of the materials from my consulting days, has disappeared during one of the moves I’ve made from house to house and back again, over the last ten years. But I do have the internet.

And I have Facebook.

Now, a lot of smack gets talked on Facebook. You know it; I know it; and if we are at all honest with ourselves, we have all done it to some extent, from time to time. Some of the comments I read on other people’s posts are simply beyond rude and insensitive. They are downright mean. And, to those who have posted them, they represent nothing but the complete and honest truth.

Personally, I don’t see the point of loosing such venom, many times, on those who are supposed to be our friends. But why people do what they do on Facebook is another subject entirely.  

My point is this: Facebook offers an opportunity for us to speak our minds, tell our truth, and get out in public what we feel needs to be said or recognized. And it gets abused. We all know it. People post an enormous number of petty, ignorant, scathing and soul-sucking things there; things, we must admit, they would never have the courage to say out loud if the people to whom they are targeted were standing right in front of them. These days, the notion of hiding behind a computer screen and dishing out ruthless, often uneducated opinions and incomplete, insidious thoughts is so often cited, it’s almost a cliché. It’s exactly what those vengeful harpies who completed those rotten evaluations did after that etiquette seminar, so many years ago. I considered it cowardly and unwarranted, to them, it was the truth.

Although a lot of smack gets talked on Facebook, and a lot of depressing and sometimes disgusting news is perpetuated there, a lot of praise and gratitude are posted there as well. Prayers are sent, victories are shared, positive energy and warm thoughts are offered, and support is given. As a friend put it recently, it is such a blessing to live in a time when we can be there, like this, for one another and stay in touch this easily, even over vast geographical distances.

So now, when I find myself on the receiving end of scathing criticism, or experience such crushing stress that it feels like the entire universe is against me, or I, in any other way, start down that emotional rabbit-hole, I just go on Facebook and read down my Wall. I look at pictures of my friends, I count up all the “Likes” I’ve received in recent days, check out what’s been posted on the Black Sheep group and think, “This too, is the truth.”

And inevitably, I start to feel good about myself again.

Facebook is my new shoe box, tied up with a pretty pink ribbon.