A Jack Daniels Ramble

I was out with my cast the other night when I noticed that one of the actresses had a Jack on ice.  I went out with my cast a lot during this show.  It was one of those shows that you have to, in the words of one of the actors, "hold in your heart because they don't come around that often.."  We've all had that experience, on a project, on some sort of work thing.  It's precious.  I'm so grateful.  Anyway, she had Jack Daniels and it brought back memories.  Well, okay, the only one I have about Jack Daniels.

I went to the University of Vermont, not known as a great theater school.  But we had a small community of dedicated actors, directors, etc. and we got along and fought and loved like you do.  We decided to have a formal Christmas or Holiday soiree.  I have no idea how it came about but there we were, in someone's house, trading secret Santa gifts, all in our finest regalia.  I must have been 20 or 21. 

There is this great line in Superior Donuts.  Actually, it's my favorite line.  Arthur (the old hippie) is talking to Luther (who has had Franco's fingers cut off because Franco owed him $16,000):

Arthur:  He's 21 years old.

Luther:  Old enough to know better.
Arthur:  Yeah, cause you and me, we made good decisions when we were 21.

Do you remember decisions made at 21?  Not always the best?  Or are you one of those?

Anyway, there I was in my long velvet black skirt, an off-white puffy blouse complete with big shoulders and lace; this was, after all, the 80's.  I remember sitting in a bedroom with another woman (I can't remember who it was) passing a bottle of Jack Daniels back and forth and declaring our mutual admiration for one another.  This was Vermont after all:  Get drunk and love.

You know, now that I think about it, we may have fought that night with Jack but all I remember is the love. 

Isn't that all we should remember?

Inception: How Did You Think of That?

I watched Inception last night.  This is the Christopher Nolan film about dreams with Leo Di Caprio in the lead.  Mr. Di Caprio has to enter the dreams of the heir of an energy company and implant an idea into his head, making the heir think it was his own idea.  It was pretty good, great special effects but nothing fancy.  It could provoke and has provoked lots of discussions about what was real but I didn't really care.  The entire movie could have been a dream and then what does that mean?  Nothing.  I did like the idea they used of waking up from one dream into another one.  That happens to me all the time.  I tend to dream a lot and I often wake up from one dream and find myself in another dream.  Or at least I think that's what happens.  Lately, I've been having a lot of nightmares which suck.  Years ago, when I lived in Dublin, I would dream about saving the world.  That was awesome, it was like my own private superhero show with me as the star. 

The movie kind of reminded me of the film Synecdoche, New York with Philip Seymour Hoffman because both movies concerned creating alternate worlds for the characters as well as the question of what is real.  Although in Synecdoche, NY, Mr. Hoffman creates a theatrical version of New York inside a warehouse casts actors to live in this fake town.  Talk about alternate realities.  To me it was definitely more thought provoking than Inception maybe because of the theatrical link or maybe because of Mr. Hoffman.

I really like Philip Seymour Hoffman as an actor.  He tends to do a lot of weird indie flicks as well as some big blockbusters (M:I3 anyone?).  And while I did like his portrayal of Truman Capote in Capote, I thought Infamous was a better overall movie about In Cold Blood.  But I do like the fact that Mr. Hoffman continues to be involved with his New York theater company LAByrinth.  He still directs and acts in their productions.  Its my opinion that the film actors who came from the stage are better actors.  I would love to see Mr. Hoffman on stage.

Not, however, in Othello.  He did (about a year ago) a 4 hour Othello in New York.  Not many people liked it I don't think.  I don't think I would.  4 hours!  I have better things to do with my time.  I did see Patrick Stewart (of Star Trek/X Men fame) in Othello in Washington, DC at The Shakespeare Theatre.  He was a white Othello in an all black cast.  It was pretty good although Iago couldn't find his light.  We were sitting near the front and the show started with a rain storm with actual rain on stage so we got a bit wet.  It was a nice special effect though and really set the scene.

I worked with rain when I was an intern at Center Stage in Baltimore.  It was for Twelfth Night.  We had a rain system set up just outside the theater doors on the back wall of the theater.  I had to open the doors for Sebastian to enter when he washes up on shore.  Later Viola enters through those doors but it wasn't raining.  Yes, I got wet;  8 shows a week for a few weeks.  Oh the things we do to earn our stripes!  But seriously, it wasn't that bad. 

That was one of my favorite versions of Twelfth Night.  It was set in an Ilyria that resembled a circus and Feste was a clown who played the master of ceremonies.  He would do monologues at the beginning of each act quoting a bunch of different Shakespeare plays.  But, I have seen some real weird versions of Twelfth Night probably because it lends itself to many interpretations.  While in Dublin, I saw one set int he 1930's.  At the end of the show, Malvolio came out to warn that he would take his revenge and then did a "Heil Hitler" salute and left.  The rest of cast broke into a weird, group dance.  Very odd.

Luckily, I did see some really good theater over there.  In London, I saw A Walk in the Woods by Lee Blessing with Edward Herrmann (of Lost Boys fame) and Alec Guinness; as in Sir.  Both were fantastic and to see Sir Alec Guinness on stage was something I'll never forget.  Nice to see that he didn't sell out after Star Wars.  Like he would.  It's that type of play though with that caliber of acting that makes people think acting is easy.

When I lived in Upstate New York and told other moms what I did, many told me that their dream was to act.  They felt they could just audition for a show and they would be a star.  These poor moms had no idea the years of training, heartache, and hard work the actors had to go through to make it look that easy.  One woman actually asked me, "How do I get on stage at Capital Repertory Theatre?"  This is a reputable, regional theater in Albany, NY, that casts most of it shows with New York City actors.  But I didn't want to quash the dream so I mumbled something about acting classes, agents, etc.  What I really wanted to say was:  "Who gave you the idea you could act?  You must be dreaming."

The Golden Globes and Arts Education: A Bit of a Rant

I know The Golden Globes and Arts Education seem not to have a lot in common but see if you can follow me (I wish you luck).

I watched The Golden Globes the other night but only half-enthusiastically. The movies this year haven't really excited me or I guess I haven't seen enough of them to care. I'm not sure what it is. I've seen some good movies but I guess I just don't care who wins.

Don't get me wrong, I'll watch The Oscars (well, after my show, I have a performance that night of Romeo and Juliet) and love it but I'm not so invested in who wins.

I did love Ricky Gervais though (he hosted The Globes), especially his irreverence; he made fun of everyone and everything Hollywood. He put it well when he said, "It's not like I'm going to be doing this again." As true as it might be, I enjoyed that he was pulling the Hollywood elite down a peg. Sometimes, I think they live in such a fake world, they truly feel the work they are doing is life-altering. I believe it was during Adrian Brody's Oscar acceptance speech for The Pianist, that he stopped the "get off the stage music" with "This is important."

Really? A gold statue for PLAYING a Holocaust survivor is important? I'm thinking the actual Holocaust might be oh, just slightly more important. As much as I love the movies and Hollywood, I do think they are full of it sometimes.

But at the end of The Golden Globes, Jim Cameron won for Avatar and he said, "Give yourselves as a hand. We have the greatest job in the world." It was nice to hear someone recognize that. I mean, I work in theater, I hardly make any money, but it's truly the best job in the world.

So that's a long way around to thinking about how exactly I can help the world. I just saw a French movie called The Class about a teacher in an economically disadvantaged arrondissement of Paris. It chronicles a school year as he deals with a class of teenagers who don't want to learn, or have trouble learning. Many of them are immigrants and dealing with home problems and the government, etc. Plus, over the weekend, I had dinner with my sister who works in such a school in Bridgeport, CT. So these people are doing good work, helping students in less than glamorous education. Now, that's important, Mr. Brody.

So, how is what I do important? Or is it important? Here's my answer (rationale?):

Teaching students math, English (French in the case of the film), reading, et cetera gives them the tools they will need to help them get out of their current situation. What arts education and theater in particular, can help them with is the desire and courage to try to change their situation. Growing up in an impoverished setting and seeing the same people stuck in the same jobs with no money does not give anyone incentive to break out and try to change their circumstances. Theater can teach young people that they are not alone; the emotions they have are universal and, that they can choose a different path.

I'll take Romeo and Juliet as an example since I'm reading that show right now in prep for rehearsals. The society that Romeo and Juliet live in chooses violence as a way to deal with their emotions. The "feud" between the Capulets and Montagues is described only as an "ancient feud." It has been going on so long, no one knows what it's about; they just know they don't like each other. Out of this society come two people who defy everything they have learned and love each other, and would rather die than live in the conventions of this "hateful" society. It's a powerful lesson; love is stronger than hate. But will such a tale really help troubled students?

I think it's possible. I think it's possible to expand people's minds with stories; to allow them to experience different situations or similar situations where different choices are made. I may be wrong, I don't know, but I do know that I feel more empowered when I know that someone out their feels the same way I do.

If you've made it all the way down here, thanks for listening and I'd love to hear your thoughts.

Theme Thursday: Castle

When Robert Altman garnered an honorary Oscar at the 2005 Academy Awards, he compared movie making to building a sand castle:

"I've always said that making a film is like making a sand castle at a beach. You invite your friends, and you get them down there, and you build this beautiful structure, several of you. Then you sit back and watch the tide come in. Have a drink, watch the tide come in, and the ocean just takes it away. And that sand castle remains in your mind."

When I first heard this, I thought, yeah, but with a movie, you at least have the film - that doesn't go away. I've always thought this metaphor was better suited to a play where it actually does go away -- the set, the props, the costumes, the actors.

But as I re-visit this idea I realize that he is talking about the actual building of the sand castle. A film is just a photograph of the sand castle, it does not convey the joy or the camaraderie or even the agony of making the perfect sand castle.

So many memories are like this: they are built with friends and then washed away by the tide only to remain in your mind.

And this idea of memories really struck me the other day when I saw another picture of a castle. I was in New York City with my kids for an audition for my daughter (she didn't get it). We were walking by a slew of posters when I noticed one of them was for The Unforgettable Fire, the re-mastered version by U2. Immediately, I was in high school in 1984, having just returned from France where I had heard U2 for the first time. U2 was just starting to get popular in the states with this album and I'm in the lunch room discussing the band with friends, thinking I know more about U2 having heard them in France.

That sand castle is long gone but it's still vivid to me. So in honor of The Unforgettable Fire and all the memories U2 has given me, here's a link to their performance at LiveAid (remember that sand castle?):

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sHnXOSxka1Q

Here's to your sand castles!

Theme Thursday: Festival, A Memory

How perfect that this week's theme is Festival, right at the 40th anniversary of Woodstock! I was 1, when Woodstock took place so I have no memory of it. But I'm sure I'm in good company with some people who actually attended the event and may have smoked something other than cigarettes.

I'm not making any accusations.

But I do have memories, many memories about another festival: The Champlain Shakespeare Festival, which ran in Burlington, VT during the summer for 18 years. (The poster below is for a festival before my time).

As a child, I attended several of the productions. Often, I would arrive early (usually with my mother or perhaps my Godmother) and watch the free performance that took place outside of the theater. We would read the summary of the play so we would know what was going on. I remember attending a production of Measure of Measure and not understanding it even after reading the summary. I'm still not sure if I know what's going on in that one.

In high school, I ushered at CSF during the summer and got to see the shows over and over again for free. One summer, they mounted Henry VI with both parts sort of mushed together. I'll never forget the battle scenes which seem to take place all over the stage and in audience. One night, I was closing my eyes in the lobby during the show, when an actor suggested that I go home and let the other ushers clean up. I couldn't leave, I didn't want to leave, how could I leave? I loved it there. Of course, now, I look back, after spending many, many late nights in theater and I wonder why I didn't leave.

Royall Tyler Theater:

The summer of my freshman year, I worked at the Festival as an intern. I attended UVM, studying theater, and CSF took place right there at Royall Tyler Theater. Up until that summer, I wanted to be the next Katharine Hepburn, not understanding that there can only be one Katharine Hepburn. But during that summer, I was assigned to assistant stage manage Romeo and Juliet. I never looked back. I kept thinking, I want to be the Stage Manager, I want to sit at the desk and call breaks, and be the director's right hand person, and know everything that's going on.

The rest I guess is history, as I fulfilled that dream of being the director's right hand person (although I'm still not sure that I know everything that's going on). Next Spring, The Arden is mounting a production of Romeo and Juliet and I get to be the stage manager this time. I'm tickled pink to be revisiting that play as the stage manager this time.

Sadly, the Champlain Shakespeare Festival came to end as all festivals do. But, like everyone else who attended a favorite festival, we all have our memories. Unless of course you were smoking something; again, I'm not making any accusations.

Summer is How Long?

I sewed today...actually sewed. The kids' stuffed animals all had boo-boos; 10 and 7 years old and my kids still love their stuffed animals (actually I hope they always do). I think I'm getting a bit bored.

When summer began, I kept thinking it would be over too soon and I needed to relish every moment of it. I luxuriated in the boredom of the lazy summer days; long afternoons at the pool, trips to the library, movies for the family. Now, I'm sewing. I think it's time for the next production.

This is why I'm so suited to theater--productions never last more than a couple of months, right when I'm getting bored with it. I start a show and I'm all excited and nervous and a bit stressed about juggling family and theater; finding sitters, planning dinners, taping the stage, getting to know the actors. Then I get to know the actors and their quirks and we're into tech where I spend days in a dark room getting to know the design team and hoping my family has learned how to forage for food. The show opens and I have a bit more time which I plan on using to straighten up the house (when in reality, I use the free time to catch up on movies). The show is still fun and I enjoy the repartee with the actors (whom I've pretty much ignored during tech week). Then it's the final week and I'm so looking forward to closing night. While the actors want to enjoy a post-show drink and discussion in the green room, I become like Nurse Ratchett getting them off to bed. "Take your medicine and go! I don't want to be here any longer than I have to!"

After the show closes, I stay home and bake and clean and cook and enjoy every minute of it. FOR A DAY. Okay, maybe a bit longer but I always end up getting antsy. Is this it? Didn't I just do laundry? What do you mean you're hungry, I thought we ate already? And right when I'm about to re-arrange the glasses in the kitchen-cabinet, a show starts and I settle down once again.

Some people have seasonal rituals; they welcome each season by airing out the beds or packing away the winter clothes. I guess I have dramatic rituals...in every possible sense of the word.

Bad Audience, Bad!!

The way some audience members behave these days makes me want to shout. But I'll rant instead.

Over the weekend, I attended Beauty and The Beast at the local high school with my daughter and her friend. Behind us sat a woman who alternately took FLASH photos of the production and texted on her cell phone. My daughter noted that she could hear the bing bing of the phone keyboard all during the show.


I wish I could say, well, it was a high school production, most audiences don't act like that.

But I can't.

I have witnessed, as a stage manager and as an audience member, such appalling behavior that I cringe just thinking about it. It's worse when I'm stage managing because the actors accost me at intermission or after the show to complain about the sleeping or eating or texting audience member. What am I supposed to do? Go up to the patron and harass them, "Don't make me stop this show!"

But sometimes I am tempted to.

Just a few things I've witnessed:

• At a children's production, a mother sat behind my kids and me and kept saying loudly to her child, "And what do you think is going to happen next? Do you think he is going to climb the tree?" First, don't ruin it for me. And second, while I applaud your desire to interact with your child perhaps you could do it in the privacy of your living room.
• On Broadway, at a production of The Drowsy Chaperone, a child protested his presence in the audience by kicking and screaming throughout the show. His family ignored his Damienesque behavior, blissfully ignorant of the fuming patrons around them. Well, at least they enjoyed the show.
• While stage managing a production of Looking Over The President's Shoulder, a woman ate her entire lunch (sandwich, chips, soda) during the show. When I asked the house manager about it, she said the patron had medical needs an had to eat. Really, during a 85 minute show with an intermission? And if she really had to eat couldn't she have picked something a bit less, well, conspicuous?

I never know what the proper way to handle these incidents. As a stage manager I inform house management whenever I can and it's up to them to determine how to handle it. But sometimes it may disrupt the performance more by confronting the patron.

As an audience member should I speak to the offending party? Sometimes I turn, glare, and say "shush," really loudly and that has worked. I hate to create more noise and distraction by getting into an argument with someone. And at times, the person is so engrossed in his activity that it doesn't matter what I do.

At Capital Repertory Theatre in Albany, NY, the former Education Director, Jill Rafferty would welcome the students for each matinee. She informed them of the behavior expected of them during the performance. She went so far as to put them in a blackout during her speech so they could experience it before it occurred during the show. It gave them a chance to "oooo" and "ahh" and get out their screams and giggles.

It was a great approach and it helped quell some of the more disruptive behavior. But still that's a small segment of the population. And if the parents are the ones causing the ruckus or ignoring it...what hope do their kids have?

Oh, I could scream but thanks for letting me vent.

From There to Here

People kept telling me that the production was so professional and that I really must see it.

So I did.

On Saturday, I took my daughter and her friend to our local high school production of Disney's Beauty and the Beast.

I wouldn't exactly call it professional. It had all the hallmarks of a high school musical including wandering actors who can't stand still, tentative gestures that don't convey anything, and red sweat pants.

Yeah, red sweat pants. The actor playing Gaston had on these ghastly red, baggy sweatpants that did not compliment his green velvet vest. He resembled a rejected elf. What really bothered me about the sweatpants is that every other actor had perfectly fine pants. Lumiere sported gold metallic pants as the candelabra and the Prince had nice velvet black ones. Why did they feel the need to put poor Gaston in some one's hand-me-downs?

During intermission I asked my daughter what she thought of the show and she replied, "The singing is good."

Ouch! But then, she mostly sees professional productions. In fact, she only sees professional productions.

On Sunday, I went into downtown Philly to catch one of the last performances of A Streetcar Names Desire at the Walnut Street Theatre. It was wonderful and I loved every minute of it which was good because it was 3 hours long.

As I made my way home after Streetcar, I thought about the two very different shows I had seen. And I thought about my own high school productions. I realized that my memory of those plays was that they were really, really good. I did a great job as the nurse in Harvey and our production of Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat rocked. Even today I still believe that.

I don't remember or I've blotted out any wandering feet or red sweat pants. I do have warm, fuzzy feelings of being a part of an ensemble and working together to create a show and it was magical and it felt professional.

I'd bet almost every actor in Streetcar has memories of high school productions or at least of the first time they stepped on stage. They probably were not very good that first time but they had to start somewhere.

After Beauty and The Beast, my daughter and her friend recounted all the parts of the show they had liked. They ignored the other parts. They had the right idea. When you look at those parts: the great singing, gorgeous sets, cute dance numbers, it was pretty professional, ambitious and magical. So I admit I was wrong to judge that production so harshly.

And who knows where those kids from the show might end up someday....screaming "Stella" perhaps? Well, hopefully without the red sweat pants.

Sand Castles

I've been having weird dreams this past week about Candide. They usually occur right before I wake up. I'll be dreaming about a point in the play and I'll think, 'Oh, I should check that out next time I watch the production.'

Then, I wake up and realize that it's all over and I'll never see it again. It reminds me of the acceptance speech Robert Altman gave at the Oscars a few years ago when he won an honorary Oscar. He compared his style of movie making to building a sand castle with friends and then watching the tide come in and wash it away; all that's left are the memories of a great day. My only issue with that comparison is that with a movie, at least one has the finished product preserved for all time on celluloid.

But the comparison holds true for theater. Never again will I have the chance to watch Candide as it was staged at the Arden Theatre. All I have left are the memories of the production. The tide in the form of the strike crew has come in and washed away the set and costumes and lights and left the sand for another production to build on.

I feel that life is like that as well. We go through stages that sometimes evoke great emotions and then after we're through that stage, we are left with the memories. I visited a friend from People's Light earlier this week who has 2 young children. As I chatted with her and played with her toddler I was nostalgic for when my children were that young and we had all these years ahead of us. Now, my children are a bit older and we've built several sand castles together and they are starting to build their own as well.

I ache when I think back on some of my memories; I ache to relive the emotion that I felt at the time. The joy in my daughter riding a bicycle, the proud sadness of watching my son go to school, the laughter around a fire on a lazy Sunday afternoon. These moments form the path of our lives and in these moments and many others--those that fraught with deep emotions like a funeral or a wedding--that we form our true selves.

Theater, I think, gives us access to those emotions as well as many others; grief, anger, despair to name a few. For the short span of a play or musical, we connect and identify with the emotional lives of the characters and recognize in them something of our own lives. Often, it is through this recognition, that we discover new ideas and new ways of seeing ourselves and the world around us. And yet, after the final curtain, the tide washes the play out to sea and we have our memories.

So, while Candide has left with the tide, I will always remember it fondly because it has changed the way I see myself as a Stage Manager. I have a new found confidence; I no longer shrink with insecurity at what I don't know because I realize I have the knowledge within me to figure it out.

But now, it's time to build other sand castles.

The Goodnight Kiss

The rehearsal period for Candide has been very difficult for me because I have to leave my children in the morning and I don't often return home until after their bedtime. Even though their babysitter is wonderful, I can't get the picture out of my head of the two of them laying on the floor crying because I have left them. They don't do this of course; they spend the day playing tennis, building forts and making up rock bands.

My husband thinks it's great that I'm working again, because I do tend to be over-involved in their lives. I am glad they have a chance to figure out life without me but why do they have to grow up?

Tonight, though, when I came home, both the kids were awake. They were very sleepy but I was able to give them a hug, ask about their day, and give them a kiss goodnight. It's just enough to keep me sane and to prevent me from laying on the rehearsal floor crying because I have to leave them.

Give My Regards to Philly

I just read an article on The Playgoer's website about how Broadway is often touted as the measure of success for theater folk. His point is that too many people (especially those outside the business) only think a play is successful if it's on Broadway or going to Broadway.

I can't remember running across this attitude in my career, but then I've never lived in New York City. In fact, since moving to Philly, I've realized how lucky I am to be in a town so supportive of its artistic community. Not only do most Philadelphia actors live and work here (without a lot of traveling to other regional theaters--a hazard of the NY actor), many of the ones I have met make a living exclusively from theater. And several theater artists actually support families with their earnings. It's a far cry from what is described in the article and another reason to take pride in my adopted hometown.

One of the ways that the artistic community is supported is through the Theatre Alliance. This group brings together all the Philly area theaters under one website. Theaters posts job listings, class offerings, auditions, and production information. In addition, the site hosts a listserv for actors to discuss topics ranging from how to critique a show to what is racism in the theater. Many also use the listserv to announce openings, look for long-lost friends, or ask for much needed props. We even have our own version of the Tonys called the Barrymores.

When my family and I decided to move to a city with a more vibrant theater community (Albany has Capital Rep and the New York State Theater Institute, both great places but two theaters do not make a vibrant community), Philly's Theater Alliance made searching for a job a whole lot easier. Washington DC has a ton of theater but I had to visit each theater's website to look for job openings. With the Theatre Alliance it's just click away.

As for patrons, I've met several neighbors who take pride in their season subscriptions to different theaters. I've met some who are loyal to one theater only and others who bounce each season from theater to theater. And not one of them mentions Broadway.

But What I Really Want to do is Stage Manage

The question I receive most frequently about my job is, "What exactly does a stage manager do?" As I begin to describe my various duties, most people's eyes glaze over as they nod and smile and think about their grocery list.



The fact is that the role of the stage manager changes with each production. Some plays require us to be diplomats while others need us to be Ms. Fix-it. When working with my assistant, Alexis Simpson on The Piano Lesson, we decided our job most resembles a safety net. We keep everything organized and running properly so the actors have a safe space in which to explore their characters. We are the first to arrive at rehearsals and performances and the last to leave. It's odd to do the same thing every night--sweep the stage, check the lights, put out the props, handle fight call--but it's that routine that ensures smooth running performances.




As for what makes a good stage manager, I'm not sure I know. Richard Ciccarone explains is well in an article on the Bay Area Magazine. And if you asked 100 stage managers what makes a good stage manager, you'd get 100 different answers. I think it's because we each bring something unique to the job.




Stage management is not a field most people aspire to when they are young. In fact, most high school students probably do not have a clear picture of what a stage manager is. Although, I think that's changing since a lot of colleges now have Stage Management majors. I'm not sure exactly what they learn in their classes but it's becoming more and more popular. I learned how to do it by doing it--in college, interning at Baltimore's Center Stage, working in community theater, and then finally in a Equity theater. For those who might not know, Stage Managers belong to Actor's Equity--the professional theater union that controls the working conditions of actors.


I fell in love with stage managing in college. During the summer of my freshman year, I interned at the Champlain Shakespeare Festival in Burlington, VT. Sadly, the Festival is no more. It gave me my first glimpse into professional theater. I had started college, at the University of Vermont, aspiring to be an actor. That summer, I assisted the stage manager on Romeo and Juliet and never wanted to do anything else. Ironically, after that summer, I was cast as Sandy in The Prime of Miss Jean Brodie, a rather large part. While I was passable in the role (at least I hope I was) I spent the entire production wishing I was the stage manager.

It's difficult to stage manage and have a family. It's six nights and week and all weekend long for two months at a time. But with a patient husband, good babysitters, and cocktails, it somehow all works out.

Let's Get This Party Started

As a French major in a previous life (and by that I mean before husband and kids), I studied pre-revolutionary France. With the court ensconced at Versailles, the Parisian aristocrats had run of the city. Those in the know met at Salons where they discussed everything from politics to art to the latest gossip. I am fascinated by the idea of a group of people getting together to discuss the arts. I find that happens a lot when I stage manage a production. Artists gather on their breaks to discuss the state of theater, the latest plays, new projects and how to make a living--especially when one has kids. A question, I most often receive when I work on a show is, "You have two kids? How do you do it all?" I honestly can't say I know except that I have an understanding husband who makes an awesome cosmopolitan.

Interestingly enough, my next theater project will be at the Arden Theatre Philadelphia this Fall where I will stage manage a production of Candide. Voltaire wrote Candide in 1759 to satirize the popular optimism movement of the time. Voltaire, the pen name of Francois Arouet, was very popular in the salons of his day because of his wit and imagination.

This past Spring, I did my first show at the Arden, The Piano Lesson by August Wilson. It was such a great experience that I am looking forward to this next project. As an added bonus, the rehearsals start in August and this is the first summer in two years that my children are not in camp. The days can get long.


My family and I are new to the Philly area. We moved here two years ago because I thought I wanted a full-time, day job in Theater. Not so much. I did write an essay published in the Philadelphia Inquirer about our move. It was published in June of 2007, I'm having trouble finding the link to it. A quick update on our situation in case I do get the link to it. We no longer live on the Main Line, we've bought a house in Abington Township. My full-time job at the time of the article was with People's Light and Theatre Company, another excellent theater located in Malvern, PA. But I missed stage managing and Malvern is too long of a haul from Abington. Luckily, as I decided to leave People's Light, the Arden was hiring stage managers so it worked out perfectly.


And here's another coincidence, the Arden periodically hosts salons that gather artists together to discuss, you guessed it, theater.

See it all comes full circle.