It's often said of artistic works that they "take risks" or of the creative process that it requires getting "out of the comfort zone." There are also people (less likely to be the high-critic type) who seek out works that entertain and comfort them without challenging too much.
Likewise, there's a broad range of taste out here regarding how much risk is appropriate in one's life. Of course, on THIS stage a wrong note/flubbed line/misstep could lead to limitless bad consequences (and not only for the person making the choices.)
Of course, a lot of great art concerns itself with depicting people's lives, too. Some people videoblog practically everything they do, now. Others have paparazzi to do it for them. And the basic urge to live life in a way that inspires or informs or transforms others is an urge much older than those phenomena.
This is left very open to try to elicit musings and heartfelt comments.
Saturday, March 29, 2008
Saturday, January 12, 2008
Speaking with your characters
A daring friend suggested she might consult a character in a live theatrical production for thoughts on another character still in the making. The voice teacher in me quakes for my students when looking to a live theatrical production for character inspiration. I don't like my students to listen to other, professionally produced singers too often, or to learn a new piece by listening to someone else's recorded piece; too intimidating for most, adds to derivative interpretation for a few others.
Still, when is it possible for each of us, seeking new inspiration to populate a character, either in writing or performance, to visit with some of the current creations out and about in someone else's interpretation? When are we finally strong enough to look at someone else, have the light turn on and not find our own soul crushed?
For me the answer can be now and never, depending on the timing, the impact of the influence and how I am finding my own self to be, robust or pliable. When I am drawn strongly to someone else's work, I know that I need time and discussion to get around to understanding what those influences will do to me and what I should let them do.
The urge to have a character under one's own direction speak with another, unrelated or unlikely character is very alluring. What will 15th century French St. Joan say to my contemporary self? Will she have thoughts and conversation with my 19th century Camille? Will they get along, influence each other? Can they converse in French from different eras, or perhaps some magic meta language that is the language of inspiration itself?
I long for a series of 10 minutes plays, perhaps 3 produced together, but not the same play. The first conversation between Joan and Camille, women of passion for very different reasons. The second might be between Joan and Betty Ford. They might talk about public life, passion and the need for moderation, being taken seriously in a man's world. The last piece would feature three contemporary women, each is reading about one of the 3 women featured previously. Hmmm.
Still, when is it possible for each of us, seeking new inspiration to populate a character, either in writing or performance, to visit with some of the current creations out and about in someone else's interpretation? When are we finally strong enough to look at someone else, have the light turn on and not find our own soul crushed?
For me the answer can be now and never, depending on the timing, the impact of the influence and how I am finding my own self to be, robust or pliable. When I am drawn strongly to someone else's work, I know that I need time and discussion to get around to understanding what those influences will do to me and what I should let them do.
The urge to have a character under one's own direction speak with another, unrelated or unlikely character is very alluring. What will 15th century French St. Joan say to my contemporary self? Will she have thoughts and conversation with my 19th century Camille? Will they get along, influence each other? Can they converse in French from different eras, or perhaps some magic meta language that is the language of inspiration itself?
I long for a series of 10 minutes plays, perhaps 3 produced together, but not the same play. The first conversation between Joan and Camille, women of passion for very different reasons. The second might be between Joan and Betty Ford. They might talk about public life, passion and the need for moderation, being taken seriously in a man's world. The last piece would feature three contemporary women, each is reading about one of the 3 women featured previously. Hmmm.
Saturday, December 8, 2007
Scholar critic v. media critic
After an interesting conversation with a friend, I was stimulated to think about the differences between scholarly criticism and that type of commentary from the media. Borrowing from my conversational companion, is the role for those voices located in the media more to promote and market the artist's work, leaving the scholar-critic to inform and interpret?
In the large, Midwestern city in which I live, there is something of a tradition in the media of promoting art and being either kind with criticism or veering away from commentary and providing lightweight education if the subject matter is thorny or difficult and perhaps inspired but less than well executed. This type of criticism is often witty, but not necessariy terribly complex or deep; no 21 paragraph analyses of the artist's oeuvre here in the Heartland. Get 'em out to see the thing, then let the chatter commence.
A recent post in the Chicago Tribune by a reader states, "...I long for the days when critics (such as Frank Rich) could write reviews as well as any playwright could write a play, and create a criticism that was not bound up in what appears to be an insatiable need in today's reviewers to be celebrity critic whose words are quoted in newspaper ads and on the backs of published scripts." (12/5/07 - postscript to Jones' review of the NYC staging of Osage County)
I would tend to agree with this comment. Attending a large chunk of regional theater, I find opening night is cluttered with critics who are there as much to see and talk to each other as to drink in the staging and craft gorgeous commentary that enlightens us as to what we can expect or how we should think about the experience.
So I await and expect from scholars what I thirsted for from others.
In the large, Midwestern city in which I live, there is something of a tradition in the media of promoting art and being either kind with criticism or veering away from commentary and providing lightweight education if the subject matter is thorny or difficult and perhaps inspired but less than well executed. This type of criticism is often witty, but not necessariy terribly complex or deep; no 21 paragraph analyses of the artist's oeuvre here in the Heartland. Get 'em out to see the thing, then let the chatter commence.
A recent post in the Chicago Tribune by a reader states, "...I long for the days when critics (such as Frank Rich) could write reviews as well as any playwright could write a play, and create a criticism that was not bound up in what appears to be an insatiable need in today's reviewers to be celebrity critic whose words are quoted in newspaper ads and on the backs of published scripts." (12/5/07 - postscript to Jones' review of the NYC staging of Osage County)
I would tend to agree with this comment. Attending a large chunk of regional theater, I find opening night is cluttered with critics who are there as much to see and talk to each other as to drink in the staging and craft gorgeous commentary that enlightens us as to what we can expect or how we should think about the experience.
So I await and expect from scholars what I thirsted for from others.
Sunday, November 25, 2007
What is it really about?
While attending the current production of Savannah Disputation, a friend asked a truly perceptive and intriguing question: what is it really about. This was in response to someone else's comment about another play - "of course you know what that was really about." Bringing my thoughts squarely to rest on the playwright's thinking for Savannah Disputation in particular was a happy place to land.
This play examines the disappointments of women, priests as people and as symbols, religion, power, mortality (sort of), the role of constraints and those thing forbidden, relationships generally, the South vaguely, America and it's use and mis-use of religion, how we fight and 'getting along', and likely more to add mess to a well constructed run-on sentence. Evan Smith's new play pushes a whole bunch of buttons.
I suspect a certain flatness to the production comes from a linear construct within the play itself because the writing appears to run through a list of questions rather than creating a carefully constructed dramatic progression. The female actors had to work to portray real people because most of the dialog supported light weight characters going after heavy weight material and getting flattened in the process. Occasionally the character of Mary gets something meaty to set up action for Father Murphy. And Robert Scogin's portrayal of the priest has real depth and pathos, partly the result of stellar acting on top of a character with real issues. He shines with masterful power as he commands Margaret to stop second guessing all of catholicism as a result of an afternoon's chat with a sophist-fundamentalist. And his cynicism is front and center when he tells Mary she may as well remain a catholic because she doesn't believe in anything else and, "then you can go to the same church as Margaret."
I would like to see Smith go back and make a less orderly examination of his questions, shake up the situation comedy. But the production is well done and affords laughter about serious rather than solemn topics that invites continued disputation over time.
This play examines the disappointments of women, priests as people and as symbols, religion, power, mortality (sort of), the role of constraints and those thing forbidden, relationships generally, the South vaguely, America and it's use and mis-use of religion, how we fight and 'getting along', and likely more to add mess to a well constructed run-on sentence. Evan Smith's new play pushes a whole bunch of buttons.
I suspect a certain flatness to the production comes from a linear construct within the play itself because the writing appears to run through a list of questions rather than creating a carefully constructed dramatic progression. The female actors had to work to portray real people because most of the dialog supported light weight characters going after heavy weight material and getting flattened in the process. Occasionally the character of Mary gets something meaty to set up action for Father Murphy. And Robert Scogin's portrayal of the priest has real depth and pathos, partly the result of stellar acting on top of a character with real issues. He shines with masterful power as he commands Margaret to stop second guessing all of catholicism as a result of an afternoon's chat with a sophist-fundamentalist. And his cynicism is front and center when he tells Mary she may as well remain a catholic because she doesn't believe in anything else and, "then you can go to the same church as Margaret."
I would like to see Smith go back and make a less orderly examination of his questions, shake up the situation comedy. But the production is well done and affords laughter about serious rather than solemn topics that invites continued disputation over time.
Friday, November 23, 2007
Cooks, Cubans and the role of atmosphere in theater and our daily lives
This is the second in a series of posts that will be dubuting in the space as "works in progress'. I plan to post these only partially completed in case I can convince some of my collaborating artists to participate prior to completion of the product. This will involve some necessary mess because the pieces will change in mid-stream. This will also require me to leave commentary posts up that may not make sense as the pieces change in scope and even perhaps in direction or conclusion.
***
The Cook, in a production currently playing at the Goodman started a conversation on the role of set design in creating atmosphere. In a world that is highly theatrical away from the theater, I wonder if part of the intrigue of that play is a sense of 'trying out' a space. The story itself revolves around people who are preserving a house for differing reasons. The audience reaction so far is that the set is itself a character, one that sets up expectations and then follows up with the process of aging we all must endure.
In shelter magazines the notion of a kitchen as stage is nothing new. The fabulousness of our kitchens tells our friends something about each of us. I long for a kitchen that is the heart of my personal and social life. My kitchen has always been my 'best' room, the place I spend the most time and where most of my friends participate in various creations and evenings of learning. Recently I have been spending a lot more time in my new, small kitchen cooking and contemplating how to make it more mine.
***
The Cook, in a production currently playing at the Goodman started a conversation on the role of set design in creating atmosphere. In a world that is highly theatrical away from the theater, I wonder if part of the intrigue of that play is a sense of 'trying out' a space. The story itself revolves around people who are preserving a house for differing reasons. The audience reaction so far is that the set is itself a character, one that sets up expectations and then follows up with the process of aging we all must endure.
In shelter magazines the notion of a kitchen as stage is nothing new. The fabulousness of our kitchens tells our friends something about each of us. I long for a kitchen that is the heart of my personal and social life. My kitchen has always been my 'best' room, the place I spend the most time and where most of my friends participate in various creations and evenings of learning. Recently I have been spending a lot more time in my new, small kitchen cooking and contemplating how to make it more mine.
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