Slouching Towards Grand Rapids

Surely some revelation is at hand;
Surely the Second Coming is at hand.
The Second Coming! Hardly are those words out
When a vast image out of Spiritus Mundi
Troubles my sight: somewhere in sands of the desert
A shape with lion body and the head of a man,
A gaze blank and pitiless as the sun,
Is moving its slow thighs, while all about it
Reel shadows of the indignant desert birds.
The darkness drops again; but now I know
That twenty centuries of stony sleep
Were vexed to nightmare by a rocking cradle,
And what rough beast, its hour come round at last,
Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?

-The Second Coming, William Butler Yeats

This Could be Our Second Coming.

In just a few short weeks, Rochester’s Black Sheep Theatre’s production of Barbara Wiechmann’s surreal, fantasty-drama Feeding the Moonfish will make its appearance on the national stage. 

Are you ready for this?

Are we ready for this?!?

We held auditions just about a year ago. Feeding the Moonfish started out as a filler piece in an evening of one act plays we called “Infinite Scope.” The showcase piece was a lovely slice-of-life comedy-drama, Coffee With God, by Kal Wagenheim, that we would perform for the First Niagara Fringe Festival, then reprise a week later at Black Sheep. I had two other pieces picked (The Rivers Under the Earth from The Ages of Man by Thornton Wilder, and Encounter by Ruth Jacobson), and needed a fourth. When I first read Feeding the Moonfish, I didn’t even like it, and I tossed it aside. Thanks to some gentle prodding by Jared Lee Morgan (who now inhabits the character “Martin”), I gave it a second chance.

And clearly, I’m glad I did.

Thanks, Jared!

A Vast Image Out of Spiritus Mundi

The vision was simple. In “Infinite Scope,” I wanted to showcase pieces that tackled the “big” questions: Who am I? How did I get here? Why are we all here? I wanted to explore the philosophy that wherever we are at any given point in time, our lives are the result and compilation of the choices we have made thus far; because I am firm believer that we always have choice. Always.

We don’t always get to choose our circumstances. We get dished up plenty in the restaurant of Life that we didn’t order. Everyone does. In most circumstances, we do not get to choose everything that happens to us. The events in our lives most certainly happen to us. But, the point of power always remains: you do get to choose what you do with that event now that it has been dished up to you. Even if you did not order it.

I was also becoming increasingly intrigued (still am) by how randomly the most amazing people seem to float in and out of my life. Is that phenomenon also a factor of the choices we make? Or is it simply Fate at work? Being at the right place at the right time?

I’m still not sure, and probably never will be.

However, I do know that the new people I met and the “old” friends with whom I worked on “Infinite Scope” (and Coffee With God and Feeding the Moonfish in particular) have become part of the spirit in me, at the core of what it means to be me.

And that’s theatre, after all. The art-form of life, at the core of what it means to be human.

The Human Spirit.

And the Spirit of the World.

When Darkness Drops

The rehearsal process was typical, like many others I’d created and developed, and at first there was nothing particularly special about it, just one piece out of four, exploring meaning of life, the universe and everything (ha ha). Kidding aside, we – Jared, Colleen (the talented and beautiful lady who portrays “Eden” in Feeding the Moonfish) and I – started to realize this story was different. Feeding the Moonfish is a powerful play, dealing with strong influences – natural forces, the power of memory and the indelibility of the Human Spirit.

These two characters, “Martin” and “Eden” have been through a figurative Hell and back. Both have had to face dark and violent tragedies in their young lives many others never experience in a lifetime. That’s what makes good theatre, after all. Tragedy and conflict.

And darkness.

“Don’t be afraid of the dark,” a trusted colleague advised at the early onset of our competition preparation. “This play is dark; it takes place at night. Work with that. Embrace the darkness.” I’m paraphrasing, of course, but I took the advice to heart.

So our brilliant and talented Lighting Designer did just that. With green and purple and blue gels, and light levels ever-so-bright enough to just adequately illuminate the actors, she created that mystical swampland in Florida in which the story takes place.

But we needed the lake.

How do you create a lake on dry land?

We couldn’t very well bring a kiddie pool to the festival.

That’s where the time of year (it was mid-November), some creative energy and a degree of intrepidity fell together in the form of a lighting effect that won us top honors at the ESTA Fest. Our Technical Director immediately thought a string of Christmas-style lights, carefully laid out in front and under the dock would do nicely to reflect up through the boards and create a visual effect that might closely resemble moonlight reflecting off the water.

It may be difficult to see and a photograph barely does it justice, but as you can see here (left), the result is quite stunning. You really ought to see it in person*, if you haven’t.

And it was the focal point of a production design that garnered us the Spencer “Spence” Watson Award for Excellence in Technical Theatre.

A $30 string of holiday bling.

The Hour Come Round at Last

So, we’re ready to go!

Almost.

We do need to raise some serious funds to be able to make the trip and come home to a still-functioning theatre organization.

There are lots of ways you can help, too.

• Make a donation via PayPal at donations@blacksheeptheatre.org.
• Call our Ticketline 585.861.4816 if you want to make the payment some other way (like a check or cash).
  
• Come to our fabulous fundraiser at Buffalo Wild Wings, Friday, May 29 any time from Noon to Midnight. “Eat Wings, Raise Funds” will take 10% of all sales revenue of any party presenting our EWRF coupon, and donate it to Black Sheep! You can click, download and print the image here to the left. Black&white or color is acceptable.

• Join us for an afternoon/evening of merriment, mayhem, and other forms of frivolity at “Slouching Towards Grand Rapids,” our gala fund raising event on Sunday, June 14, at The Bachelor Forum in downtown Rochester. The Forum is located at 670 University Avenue. The event runs from 5:00 p.m. to 8:00 p.m. and features a silent auction, 50/50 raffle, games, prizes, drag queens and more!

Please think about it? And do what you can. Every dollar counts and you’d be making a valuable contribution to the zeitgeist. 

#Believe #MiraclesHappen

There definitely is a spirit about it. When you take a two-dimensional work of fiction, find the right talented and beautiful people, share your vision, encourage involvement, give a bit of direction and a lot of support, place your fate in their hands and get out of their way, miracles do happen.

That the world is round is a delightful manifestation how perhaps we aren’t always meant to see too far down the road ahead.

But that’s a subject for another post …

[*No, really. We’re planning another Open Dress Rehearsal for later in June which will be your final – I mean final, if you’re not planning to come to Michigan – opportunity to see the multiple Regional and Statewide award-winning production of Feeding the Moonfish, by Barbara Wiechmann, directed by yours truly. Watch this space for an announcement of the date, time and location. Really.]

Poster designs for Coffee With God and Infinite Scope by Louie Podlaski. Photo credits David Sokolowski, Festival Photographer. Special thanks to Jared Lee Morgan, Colleen DiVincenzo, Jeff Clair, Danielle Suhr and Paul Scheib. 

I'm Sorry....No. I'm Not. I'm Sick of the Excuses

At the tender age of 23, I found myself living in a violent and abusive relationship. It started like most of them do, with the belittling, the criticism, a shove here, a slap there, then escalated to violence and beatings. I was an Ivy League-level college graduate, and still, I let him have such power over me that I was afraid and ashamed to leave.

You don’t need to know the reasons. It was a long time ago. I’m out. I’m safe. I’ve moved on. It’s a million miles away now.

I Just Don't Get It

In the wake of the Ray Rice abomination, as a domestic abuse survivor and liberator, I am naturally curious as to why women stay in these horrifying, life-threatening relationships. I read the tweets on #whyIstayed. I see the posts. And I just don’t get it.

I thought I had nowhere to go.

I thought no one cared.

I was wrong.

One day after work, with not even a toothbrush with me, just the clothes on my back and about $20 in my purse, I didn’t return home and ran for my life. I stayed at a coworker’s house (her husband was a cop) until my brother could drive the two-and-a-half hours on a Friday night to come and get me.

I got out. I saved myself. And it was the scariest thing I had ever, ever done in my life.

But I also knew I had to do it.

A lot of these women, they say, “You don’t understand. You’ve never been there.” I have been there. And I still don’t understand.

You DO Have a Choice

At the end of this posting, I repeat three important resources, places and people women (and men) can go to if they need help escaping an abusive relationship.

You always have choice. You don’t have to stay. You always have choice. You may have limited options, I understand that. But you always have choice.

The Power to Make Your Own Choices

Here are some of the tweets I’ve seen and my responses to them.

I tried to leave the house once after an abusive episode, and he blocked me. He slept in front of the door that entire night.

The house has windows, doesn’t it?

I stayed because my pastor told me that God hates divorce. It didn’t cross my mind that God might hate abuse, too.

Ugh. Abuse and organized religion. Don’t get me started.

He said he would change. He promised it was the last time. I believed him. He lied.

How many “last times” did you need to give him before you realized HE WAS LYING?

After being stuck in an abusive relationship for awhile I started to believe I deserved all of it.

STOP! You don’t deserve it.

I had to plan my escape for months before I even had a place to go and money for the bus to get there.

There is ALWAYS a place to go. You just have to know where to look. More on this at the end.

I stayed because I thought love was enough to conquer all.

It’s not love when he expresses his feelings through torment and abuse, and his “love” with his fists.

I stayed because my word was the only evidence.

You don’t need “evidence” to leave an unhappy relationship.

I stayed because I was halfway across the country, isolated from my friends and family. And there was no one to help me.

There is ALWAYS someone to help. More on this at the end.

Because I was 15 and he said he loved me and I didn't know what love was. I thought I had to marry him. It was my fault.

Yep. This was me. Only I was 22 and I did almost marry him. We were both wrong, you and I.

You think you know but you have no idea.

I do. I have every idea in the world.

Get Out Now

I’m not judging you. I’m trying to get you to see the facts:

You don’t deserve this.

It’s not love if he’s hurting you on purpose.

Someone does care.

You do have a place to go.

You can get out.

You can disappear where he’ll never find you.

I know. Because I did it.

And you can do it, too.

Most metropolitan areas have abuse hotlines and centers you can call and go for help. In Rochester, NY, we have The Willow Center (formerly Alternatives for Battered Women). You can reach them here, http://willowcenterny.org/, or at (585) 232-7353.

If your city or town doesn’t have such a place, start with 911. If you’re physically trapped, being held hostage, or restrained and can’t do that, there are these two national resources. Get out of the house. Get out as soon as you can. Then get in contact with one of them. All are 24/7.

The Domestic Violence Hotline at Safe Horizons

www.safehorizon.org

(855) 468-5287

The National Domestic Violence Hotline

http://www.thehotline.org/

(800) 799-SAFE (7233)

(800) 787-3224 (TTY)

Don’t wait any longer. Do something now. Change your life. Please.

Before he changes it for you.

Everyone's Business

And if you’re sitting there and you know (or suspect) someone you know or love is trapped in a vicious relationship, you, too, can do something about it.

Stand up. Speak out. Lend a helping hand, a caring heart. Call one of the resources above. Because it is your business, too.

But that’s a topic for another blog …

(BTW – I got out 25 years ago, when we didn’t talk about these things as easily. We didn’t have Facebook, and Twitter, or hotlines, and we didn’t have the national awareness we do now. I didn’t have strangers who care … like you do. If you are too scared or ashamed to reach out officially, reach out to me. I’m here. You can PM me on Facebook any time. Diane Mashia. https://www.facebook.com/dimashia. I won’t judge you. And I can help you.) 

The Value of the Skeptical Audience

Performers need an audience. By definition. We can’t simply ignore that, even for “the sake of the art.”

"You Are an Ignorant Fool"

Not too long ago, a Facebook posting put a few of us on the defensive about the quality of (what some referred to as “amateur”) theater in the Rochester area. The individual who made the comments claimed to be quoting someone else. Nice cop-out, Mr. Facebook Rant. It was a fairly lame way to dodge the barrage of bullets in the form of comments and rebuttals that were fired back. Never-the-less, this individual was commenting as a valued member of the theater Audience, and had every right to his – relatively rude, biased, and frankly uninformed – opinion. He had seen a handful of productions on the Rochester stage and had made a vast and sweeping generalization about all theater in Rochester.

I’m going to spare you a recap of the responses that followed – which, themselves ranged from the relatively uninformed to the downright rude – because after all, we had all felt attacked and we had every right to defend ourselves and our work. Everyone is entitled to his or her opinion, no matter how rude or uninformed; but as a valued and contributing member of our Audience, he had the right to be heard.

We have the right to respond. And we did.

But we also have the obligation to listen.

And to act. Especially when that opinion differs from our expectation.

The Need to Listen and Act

We invite our friends, family and other loved ones to our performance. We are proud. We expect them to enjoy it and we (at least in part) expect their praise following that performance. And with good reason. We’ve worked hard, we invested our time and talent, sometimes at great sacrifice to other aspects of our lives, and most times we are not remunerated. So the only form of compensation we do receive is in the accolades showered upon us at the conclusion. It feels good to know your efforts are appreciated. It contributes to our well being and for most of us, it’s part of why we do what we do: for the love of the art. And let’s be honest: it’s a nice feeling when the art loves us back.

But the skeptical audience, like Mr. Facebook Rant, is disinterested in our well-being. Theirs is an outside opinion. They have invested nothing. They aren’t objective; that’s not what I’m purporting. An opinion is always subjective. That’s what makes it an opinion.

But it is unbiased, and hopefully, impartial. We hope, at least, they did not come to mock or ridicule or find fault or criticize. That is the work of the professional critic. And even then, we must remember that review is, again, only one person’s opinion.

The opinions of our Audience, no matter how ill-advised, no matter how poorly delivered, should matter to us. And not just after the fact – after the curtain call, as we are meeting and greeting our adoring public, poised and ready to receive the accolades of friends, family and strangers who came to see us inform, move, entertain, or otherwise affect them with our performance. The opinions of our audience should matter to us from the very beginning and throughout the entire process.

Ignore the Audience and Pander To Them

I saw an episode of Inside the Actors’ Studio where George Lucas (of Star Wars and others fame) was the guest. At some point during the interview, James Lipton engaged Mr. Lucas in a discussion of the purpose of the movie-going audience and the part they play in the director’s process of making a movie. Mr. Lucas said something then that has stuck in my memory ever since. Although I don’t remember his exact words, it went something like this, “A good director ignores the audience and simultaneously, panders to them.”

Film and theater are alike in many respects, not the least of which is the form the art itself takes. Theater (and film) is when you take something two-dimensional, black and white, cold and lifeless, and turn it into something colorful, breathing, three-dimensional and full of life. Theater happens when you take a work of art from page to stage (I didn’t make that up, and I don’t recall who said it first or where I read it first, but I’ve borrowed it ever since). To do that successfully, you must make choices. Lots of them. Everything you do on the stage is a choice.

Theater is the artform of choice.

It’s a balancing act.

You don’t make every artistic choice based on “what the audience will think.” To do that would not be simply debilitating to your artistry, it would be downright paralyzing. After all, not everyone in the audience will have the same response, reaction, or opinion about what they’ll see and hear. You would drive yourself crazy trying to please everyone. No, you cannot simply pander to the audience.

But you do make sure that whatever your choices make, you take responsibility for how they might be perceived. Theater performance, after all, has little value performed in a vacuum. It is an artform that requires an audience. It is our job to reel them in; to create a world in which they can immerse themselves and forget about everything else except what is happening before them; to make them believe.

So, no, you cannot simply ignore them.

Meant To Be Seen and Heard

Remember theater is the artform of “page to stage.” It is the artform of choice. We are in control. We have the power. The director’s job is to advise, guide and encourage the choices the actor makes. The actor’s job is to make us believe them.

Make. Me. Believe you.

Choices, therefore and of course, must be made to be realistic, believable and true to the text (the “page”). However, choices that don’t look good, or sound good, or do not translate well in performance (the “stage”) should and must be reconsidered. Sometimes, the believability must run a close 2^nd place.

You see, and you know this – the audience has not read the play. Typically. Some may have, if you have theater aficionados present, or (the most special case) an audience of actors and other theater artists. At the very, very least, the audience (probably) doesn’t have a copy of the text in front of them, to which to refer during your performance! So you need to be heard and understood before you can be believed.

Make Me Believe You

So what does this mean?

Directors, I’ll address you first.

At least once (the more often the better, but don’t overdo it!), spend some rehearsal time in the shoes of your audience. Put on your theater-goer hat and sit out in the house. Watch. Listen. Divorce yourself from your process as best you can. Better yet, if you can, invite a trusted colleague to come in to watch, listen, and provide you some feedback from an audience perspective.

[By the way, those of you in New York, the Theatre Association of New York State (TANYS) offers a very valuable service in this respect, in the form of a Rehearsal Adjudication. For more information, please visit www.tanys.org or contact me at info@blacksheeptheatre.org.]

Encourage your actors to consider their audience as well. They must make their own choices, it’s true, with your guidance and direction. Their choices must make sense within the text, your vision, the structure of the play, and from the perspective of an outside observer (i.e., the audience). Without consideration of how their performance will be seen and heard, it will fall flat. There’s no way around that.

Now actors, here is my advice to you.

Know your text. Know your character. Do your homework. It’s not just memorizing your lines and thinking, “How am I going to say this line?” No. That’s the sure way to C-minus acting. You know (or should know) you have to understand your character’s motivations, objectives, obstacles, tactics and relationships to all the other characters. All of those things affect your performance and you know (or should know) that. The choices you make must be realistic and true to the text.

Make your choices active, solid, clear, and as powerful as you can.

Then, pay close attention to where and how you stand (sit, walk, enter, exit, etc.) and do everything with your body. This translates to how you will be seen. Then, pay attention to your diction, your volume, your accent (as appropriate) and everything you do with your voice. This translates to how you will be heard. The choices you make with your body and your voice must be realistic and believable. To whom? You guessed it: to the audience.

Your job is make them, your audience, believe you.

The True Value of The Skeptic

Because the audience is making their own choices, too.

They may not choose believe you automatically. At best, they will come in with at least part of their disbelief suspended. In this case, we must do everything within our power to allow and enable them to keep it suspended.

And sometimes, they may come in as the skeptic, full of doubt, maybe even full of disbelief. That is where our challenge lies, to make active, powerful and clear choices, to make them believe you.

Especially if they choose to be skeptical.

The more skeptical the audience is, the harder we have to work. The harder we work, the better we do our job. The better we do our job, the better we are for the art.

So here’s to you, Mr. Facebook Rant, our skeptical audience. Thank you for making us great.

[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. In April, Feeding the Moonfish won Outstanding Production First Place at the Eastern States Theatre Association Festival competition in La Plata, MD. Next month, Feeding the Moonfish will go on compete in the American Association of Community Theatre national festival competition in Grand Rapids, MI; the first community theater organization from Rochester, NY to ever have this distinction. Donations are now being accepted to help fund the project. To lend your support, you can make a contribution via PayPal at donate@blacksheeptheatre.org, or contact info@blacksheeptheatre.org for more information. Your generosity and support are most appreciated!] 

Practice What You Preach. Or Just Stop Preaching

I'm not perfect. Let's just start with that. I screw up a lot. I don't always make the best choices. I haven't lived an entirely admirable life.

But I own my own shit. I make my mistakes and I pay for them myself. I own my own brand of crazy and I try really hard - not always successfully - to practice what I preach, to be patient and respectful of people with whom I disagree, and to find the good in everyone that I know is there. I try very hard to love everyone, even when they give me reason not to. That doesn't come from the Bible. I try to do all that because it's the right thing to do. We're all in this together, and we're all just doing the best we can with what we've got.

Aren't we?

I continue to be disheartened and lately downright disgusted by people who claim to "follow Jesus" and be "Christian," and yet, by their every day words and actions, seem to have so much hate, resentment, and judgment in their hearts. 

Jesus said, "Love your enemies," didn't he? He said, "Love your neighbor," didn't he? He didn't say it just once. He said it ALL THE TIME. He didn't say, "Block people who have hurt you, shun them and disrespect them when they do something you don't like or disapprove of. Judge them, condemn them publicly, and encourage others to do so. Withhold your love from all those you feel are no longer (or never were) worthy of that love."

To those who profess Christianity and Christian values, allow me to tell you: I read your posts. I keep an open mind when you "Jesus" this, and "Jesus" that, all over FB, in your home and in your community. AND I watch very carefully how you treat the individual people in your lives, especially when things don't go your way, or you somehow disapprove of or don't like what they have done, particularly when it hurts you.

Yes, I watch. I watch and I listen. I watch what you do very closely, and I listen to your words very carefully. And if others around you, watching and listening as I do, don't know you as I do, and haven't heard all the "Jesus" preaching you've been doing: sometimes, I doubt they'd even suspect you were a Christian.

The evidence just isn't there.

So perhaps you might take a good, long, soul-searching look in the mirror, and do an honest assessment of what you see. And when you do, just remember, you may be the only Bible someone else ever reads. I only pray you do it justice.

And I pray, the next time you behave in a way that completely contradicts all that "Jesus" preaching, that I have the strength and presence of mind to call you on it.

Because I'm really very curious where it comes from, and it ain't the Jesus I know.

[Dismount soapbox.]

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.