Life upon the Wicked Stage–or not

In a NYT article about the lack of strong leading women roles on Broadway this year, producer Arielle Tepper Madover said she worried that the dearth of great female-centered work remains partly due to family responsibilities for women, who are reluctant to sacrifice nights and weekends to rehearsals or leave their children behind to produce or direct shows out of town or on the theater touring circuit.  She was referring to the kinds of directors, women, who are attracted to plays with strong female roles and have the means to shepherd the play through developmental process and the producers who get behind the show and gather the millions of dollars required for a Broadway production.

“Going to the theater every night, standing in the back to watch how your show is coming together, and staying late to give feedback — let alone going to Chicago for a pre-Broadway try-out — is not something a lot of us can do,” said Ms. Madover, who has three young children.

I can relate.  My Kid turned one shortly after we moved to New York.  I didn’t audition for anything because when I did the math the equation I came up with was that paying a babysitter market rate to stay with my kid for the hours it took to ride the train into Manhattan, wait to be seen and ride the train home was a cash up front and do it again for a callback meant that for each audition I needed to be prepared to pay about one hundred dollars.  I just couldn’t justify it even though I had finally made it to New York.  It was frustrating, but I made peace with it.  Our  life as a family has been more fulfilling spending evenings and weekends together.  The Husband and I are probably still married because I didn’t met him each evening, when he came home from the office, by standing at the door with my coat already on, ready to hand over the baby and dash off to rehearsal or performance only to return after they had both gone to sleep.

I was in one play when My Kid was three years old.  It was the result of a developmental process of more than a year, that produced a fascinating original piece of theatre called SIX.  The diverse cast of six women, three Black and three white, ranging from new mother to retired grandmother.  The production was spearheaded by the mother of a toddler who had been a professional director.  We rehearsed once a week late evening after the toddlers were in bed and performed in a church.  Few saw it.  It was never remounted.

I didn’t look for another opportunity to perform on stage until My Kid was in kindergarten.

http://www.nytimes.com/2010/05/16/theater/theaterspecial/16women.html

Awaiting the arrival of a big expensive clown show

We were talking about  Broadway shows we’d like to see.  I think My Kid should see The Miracle Worker or Billy Elliot. In the family evening vs couples date equation where we may as well bring My Kid since a babysitter costs more than a ticket, I could stand to see the old classics; South Pacific or West Side Story.

However,

I was talking with another clown recently and we were thinking that when Banana Shpeel opens this month we might do well to try to see it early in the run because it didn’t get good reviews in Chicago.  (But, maybe, hopefully, changes will have been made and it will be a great show!)

So anyway,

I looked up online a review of the Chicago production and found one by Chris Jones who wrote, of the Chicago production, on December 3, 2009

“There is a great deal to fix before this show opens in New York early next year. But here’s a modest proposal: Hire a female clown. Or two.”

Just sayin’…


After a workshop with Chris Lynam

Last night, Jef organized a workshop with Chris Lynam, a clown who is in New York for the Broadway run of Slava’s Snowshow. It’s always good to meet new clowns. After the workshop, there were three conversations at once around the table at the diner. Jef and Chris were talking about working with Slava and working on their own work. I was talking to the only other woman from the workshop about writing and the other guys were talking about guys being goofy.

Walking to the train at the end of the evening, Chris mentioned another clown, Thomas Kubenick a Czech clown who has his own show that he tours around the world. It’s good. I’ve seen it. I met Thomas for the first time at Movement Theatre International in Philadelphia in 1990. He was at that time assisting Boleck Polivka who taught a workshop. I met him again when he showed up at the workshop I was taking with Ctibor Turba at his studio in Nectiny, Czechoslovakia (right before it turned into Czech Land–that’s what the locals called the Czech Republic–and Slovakia) I’ve been around a while, but it’s only been in the last year or so that I’ve gotten a handle on what may be my particular style…

I’m pretty much the opposite of Amy G. Chris took a call from her about a gig at a club. Organizing and coordinating are so not my thing that the passing mention of a woman I know putting together an evening of acts apparently caused me to have a nightmare. I had a dream, last night, about running a theatre space–like Annex where Allison Narver, Andrea Allen and Gillian Jorgenson have all been artistic director or the Brick where Audrey Crabtree is the face of the organizers of the New York Clown Theatre Festival. In this dream which was more like a nightmare, brought on perhaps by conversation about successful theatrical clowns and the women behind them, (I was reminded of the organized women behind the careers of monologists, Spalding Grey and Mike Daisey and cartoonist Gary Larson, not to mention the countless women who work as personal assistants, executive secretaries and stage moms (The Husband, My Kid, My Sister and I all saw Gypsy this week.) These passing bits of conversation caused me to have a nightmare about being in charge of an art space like Celebration Barn, currently run by the Amanda Huotari. In my dream there 4 toilets on the second floor that were all overflowing and unusable. The Marley dance floor in the rehearsal hall had been scrubbed with Comet by someone’s helpful visiting unsupervised mother and was now ruined… It was a nightmare.

Now, disorganized person that I am, I’ve got to hurry and help My Kid, (who is alternately yanking on my body an falling on the floor to prove the point of gross parental neglect) get dressed in a manner appropriate for both ice skating with her aunt at Rockefeller Center and hooking up at the Museum of Natural History with old Seattle Annex friends and their offspring, who are visting from Chicago.

Gotta go.