Monthly Archives: September 2009

Opening Enchanted April

Another opening night tonight.  Enchanted April, at Taproot Theatre, opens tonight at 8:00 p.m.

It’s been a good process, a nice re-entry back into the world of acting after a two year hiatus.  My role is small, but has enough in it to make it challenging, and I’m pretty sure I’m not really hitting the mark yet, at least not like I’d like.  That being said, the experience of being on stage with long-time friends has been a God-send.   The process of preparing a role is a much different process than preparing a sermon, and it’s nice to know that the message of the play is not up to me, though my role in it contributes to an audience’s overall understanding.   Letting go of the final result, I can concentrate on the moments of contact with my acting partners, concerning myself with the moment-to-moment interchange that builds a single scene.  There is a concentration in it that seems so familiar, a level of focus that I find exciting and freeing.  So often I am grappling internally with the ongoing profundity of things, but in these moments, it’s just about the other, the emotional exchange, the physicality, and the lines.  No need to save the world; just get to the next moment, responding to what it’s front of me.

Of course, all of this is predicated on getting cast in the play in the first place.   And then there was the choice to move and live in the world of theatre and art, and before that, there was the training that begin leading in that direction.  In other words, the freedom of the living in the moment is built on a series of decisions that are based on whatever I think it means to “save the world” from the context of who God has made me and what I think He is calling me to.

My point is simple:  the moments of the day in regular, walk-about living are no different than my moments on stage, really.  Letting go of results (leaving them to God), my role is respond to the demands and the needs in front of me, as God reveals them.  Whether they are with family, friends, or strangers living in a poverty-stricken land half a world away, the moments present themselves one at a time, and as I have been prepared, I meet them.  My trust in the director is paramount.  In Enchanted April, I trust Karen Lund, the director, to lead me where she wants me to go.  I also trust that I cannot see the whole play, therefore it is up to her to direct me and give me feedback that will help me stay within the world of the play.   And while there are moments when I might disagree with a certain note she will give me, it is not my job is not to do punch holes in what she’s trying to do.  My job is to bring the play to life according to her vision.   However, I am no slave.  There is collaboration.   Karen depends on her actors’ nuance and creativity and discovery to contribute in ways that she cannot always predict.   Her faith is in us as ours is in her.

I don’t know how far the analogy holds, but I know that as I go through my day today, I am not the director.   And my notes from God might be somewhat different than my notes from Karen, but my trust is that they’re there.  And as hard as I work to deliver on what Karen gives me to do, that effort should probably pale in comparison to the work I put in making sure the notes of God are put into play with the nuance and directions He tells me.

What I like about acting is that I don’t have to be in control.   It is so clear that I am not.   Life isn’t much different.

Just playing my part…

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A Reputation for a “Yes Face”

This was a question we asked at church on Sunday.  It’s a different way to phrase the old question of legacy: what do you want to be remembered for?  What heritage do you want to leave your kids?  After all is said and done, what will your legacy be?

One man had a fascinating answer in that he said he wanted to be known as a man who had a “Yes Face.”

A yes-face.

I knew immediately what he meant.   He was referring to that moment when someone in need asks you for help, and you’re caught in that dilemma of responding or not.   He wanted to have a face that always said, “Yes.”

The reason I knew what he meant was that too often I have a “No Face”.  And it’s interesting to think of a “No Face” being no face at all, in that the selfish human loses something of themselves and eventually disappears.   Do we find more and more of our true face as we open it with yeses for those around us?  And do we move toward having less face, less identity, less true self, when we present those who need us with a “No Face?”

What kind of face will we bring today?

I said I wanted to be known as someone who knew how to love…

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Notes from a September Week

So I took a week off from blogging.  It was full week, as they all are.   Rehearsals for Enchanted April (Taproot Theatre, opening this Friday) continue to go well.   I will, of course, be terrified as we move through opening weekend…I always am the first few times around with an audience.  But that will pass, and the fun of the run will settle in.   I’ve been reminded several times in the past week how much I enjoy this strange game called acting.

I missed a lot of sleep last week as seasonal allergies kicked in,  and was pretty fatigued by the time I got to Saturday, but then, wonder of wonders, I got two 8-hours-of-sleep nights in a row.  Amazing how much difference that makes.   Didn’t get that much last night–got home late from rehearsal, then got up early to work out, but still feel more energized than usual.

Spent a couple of hours yesterday getting new headshots.  (My current ones are embarrassingly old.  I’ve aged a bit since the one in the Enchanted April program was shot.  But it will be the last time it gets used.)  Wayne Rutledge is a fine photographer and we had fun both in the studio and wandering around the Greenwood neighborhood looking for good light and interesting backgrounds.   I’ll post a few when I get them (maybe), and we’ll see.  The whole process of looking into a camera trying to communicate “quiet strength” or some other such direction is a little odd, hard to put my finger on.  And there are the people wandering by who get a kick out of seeing this whole process happen.  Pretty strange.

Let’s see, what else…had a rock-your-world conversation with a friend I haven’t sat down with in a couple of years.  A man of deep compassion and activist heart, he has left the church in what approaches disgust over many things, some theological, some textual, some practical.   He gave me some help on the health insurance issue that clarified some things, and I left admiring his courage, his mind, and his means of practical living.  He may well be closer to God than many of the church folk I know.  Certainly reminded me of Jesus in some ways.

And there was the worship practice rehearsal Saturday morning which I began mad as a hornet.  Well, maybe not that mad, but I was annoyed at a mistake I’d made even though I had worked pretty hard to be ready for what was about to happen.  But I simply told the band I was pretty angry, that I would get over myself in a few minutes, and we ended up having a great morning rehearsing.  Music often seems sort of over my head, but I keep plugging away, and I’m amazed at the fun there is in it.

And finally, two others things: there was the story of the “Yes Face” (I’ll come back to and do a blog post about that) as well as the ongoing research on Robert E. Lee.   The Civil War is coming more into my consciousness as I try to piece Lee’s imaginative life together.   All I can think is “what lives these people lived.” Giant lives, full of wonder and terror, filled with suffering I cannot even imagine.   More posts on that to come, I’m sure.

This week, worship planning, the Puyallup Fair, Enchanted April, and time with Anjie somewhere along the way, all during my favorite time of year.

Loving the air of fall…

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Reluctantly Asking the Health-Care Questions

Here’s a question: what does Beauty have to do with the health-care debate?

I’m not much of a political animal.  Whether that’s a badge of honor or shame depends on who you talk to, but it’s getting harder to avoid getting drawn into the “debates” (read mud-slinging) about health-care, economics, race, and other areas of social concern and justice.  My reticence about entering these discussions is two-fold: 1) Too often, such “discussion” descends into language and tone that is neither informative or anything close to beautiful.   Anger–make that fury–seems to be the prevailing stance, with people talking over each other in embarrassingly rancorous behavior.  2) I just don’t know enough to contribute to the discussion meaningfully, though why that stops me is unclear…ignorance doesn’t seem to stop anyone else.  And in saying that, I recoil–here I am throwing my own mud less than a half-dozen sentences in.   “Ignorance” is a tacky, mocking word in the above sentence, and I used to make me feel better about my own position.  I may not know much, but at least I’m willing to admit it.

That’s called being proud of your humility.

See, I hate these discussions.

But someone very close to me is now being impacted by this whole health-care thing, and as they say, all politics is personal.  (Does anybody say that, or did I make that up?)  So I find that I’m going to have to marshal my personal resources to do some learning.  The questions about health-care are daunting: is access to medical care a basic human right?  Who is a society responsible for, and how far does that responsibility reach?  What is the moral imperative of a statistic like “24.9% of the people of Texas are uninsured?”  What role does individual responsibility play in the long-term outcomes of life?  (This is the “it’s your own fault” argument, implying that when someone lands in the ditch by their own machinations [taking who knows how many other people right into the ditch with them], their own machinations have to get them out, thereby allowing me to keep my machinations for myself.)  What is “stupid” poverty, especially in America?  (It’s easier to identify in developing nations.  [Or is that statement an indication of some kind of hidden upper-class bias?  Aaackk!  There's no escaping it...])  What are the national values that are reflected in the answers to the above?  (See Newsweek’s article–No Country for Sick Men–about how the decisions nations make on who gets health insurance coverage reveal their national value and character.)  How best are Christ’s values lived out in the midst of these questions?   And questions like “Who would Jesus Insure?” [and here, and here, and here, and here] seem near silly, especially if you believe that the Kingdom of God is somehow diminished by the uneasy mix of faith and politics we’ve seen so often in recent years, on both right and left.

But here’s the thing, in my view: life–the human experience–is one.  What I mean is that our values, what we cherish, what we believe (or don’t believe), what we hold to be good, true, and beautiful–all this, as they say, will out.   The philosophical debates, the ideas that stand behind these dramatically practical issues (real people with real names with real families that watch them suffer die over these things) will inform every category of our lives.  Even if we are divided (“Life is NOT one”, someone retorts.  “Don’t you realize we live in a time of deeply fractured experience?  Don’t you realize we live on the other side of the fall?  Life is NOT one…we are broken.”), that very dividedness will permeate each category of life.   Religion (or call it “faith” if you don’t like the word “religion”), politics, entertainment, relationships, morality, sexuality–all of it flows from what’s inside our totality, our combined heart, mind, soul, and strength.

This whole thing is challenging me to rethink some very basic values.  And though I called it near silly above, I can’t think of a better person to ask about all of this that the Christ.  So I’ll be working on that in the next few days, because I’ve got some decisions to make about the best ways to help those I love–some of whom I know, some of whom I don’t.

So now, I’m out of room in this post, so the first question I asked–what does Beauty have to say about all this–will have to wait.  But I ask in the spirit of knowing that Truth, Goodness, and Beauty have always stood together.  And no doubt Truth and Goodness are at the heart of the debate, so Beauty has to be lurking, wanting to have its say, bringing its own insight.   And I don’t hear anyone else talking about it in those terms, so…

another day

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Watching My Friends Work

The Artist at Work

The Artist at Work

Last Friday night, Greenwood held it’s monthly 2nd Friday artwalk.  As part of that event, Taproot Theatre staged its own entry: the making of a portrait.  The artist was my good friend Sam Vance, and his subject was another good friend, Nikki Visel.  The impetus for this was a scene from Taproot Theatre’s next offering, Enchanted April (opening a week from Friday.)  The scene calls for an artist, a specialist in portraiture, to sketch a study of a fascinating new acquaintance (Nikki’s character).  The artist is drawn to this woman not only because of her beauty; she reminds him of his recently deceased mother.   Obviously, to stage the scene in the play, an actual portrait is needed.   So Sam and Nikki set up shop in the small, but cozy lobby of Taproot.   There was the easel, the chaise lounge, a few of Sam’s other paintings (water-lilies and landscapes…he does great work), and usually, a couple of people standing by, interested in varying degrees by what they were witnessing.

Sam Vance

Sam Vance

We all know the strange fascination that comes when watching an artist bring something into our experience that is unexpected and far beyond our own ability to make.  Aristotle said this delight in imitation is in our nature, and it’s plain to see when observing an artist working, and observing the observers.  It’s as if we were rooting for Sam as he stood there, barefoot and engaged, his body as physically involved as his hand, occasionally lifting one foot as he spread charcoal onto the paper.  (Painting as subtle sport, I thought at one point.)  I stood off to the side, brandishing a camera, snapping away, worrying that I was being obnoxious and distracting, but I didn’t care.  I was hoping to get in on the magic-making.  That’s what I was rooting for after all, for something magical to leap onto the canvas, some captured beauty, some effervescent something (as the character in Enchanted April says)…caught.   For three and a half hours this went on, page after page of studies, Sam finding his way toward what would eventually be the finished work (which I haven’t seen yet).

Nikki Visel

Nikki Visel

And then, of course, there’s the subject.  Nikki sat very still for a long, long time.  Sam went to her occasionally, said a quiet thing, touched her chin, asked a question, listened, and then drew again, as Nikki later said, as if he had a new understanding, that whatever he’d just heard or noticed had made a marked difference.   It was, literally, a study.  A study of a human face, but a study not done intellectually, as in the study of history or mathematics, but a study done with eye and charcoal and strokes of hand to paper.  What understanding results from this study is hard to say.  Perhaps understanding is the wrong word.  Perhaps it’s more of a knowledge, a connection, an intimate realization of the presence of the other.  Or perhaps the long stillness and move from one dimension to another (from lobby to paper) abstracts things, allows for less humanity.  It’s an old debate.   But something is exchanged between artist and subject, the between artist and audience, and at the end of the day, a new thing exists in the world, a creation to delight and call.

Sam Vance and Nikki Visel

Sam Vance and Nikki Visel

A few of Sam's other paintings

A few of Sam's other paintings

Hats off to my friends, in this case, especially Sam.  It was a pleasure to him work, and a still greater pleasure to know that its not really his artist prowess I’m most glad of.    What’s better than watching an accomplished artist do their work is knowing that that accomplished artist is your friend.

To see Nikki’s work, about which I feel the same, you’ll have to come see Enchanted April.

I like artwalks…

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