I, Homunculus

The Future

noreply@blogger.com (Dan) — Wed, 10 Jun 2009 20:41:00 +0000

Quitting your day job elicits exactly two stages of response.

The first is Envy. Non-theatre folk - a category which covers most of the people I worked with at the Kellogg School of Management over the past 5 years - get that wistful look people get at the end of Rudy: a preposterously melodramatic indulgence in sentiment as they watch the someone "do what they LOVE" and "follow their DREAMS."

Among theatre people, this first stage is marked by the surfacing of a frustration and a desire for release so palpable and overwhelming it borders on the sexual. "JE-sus, I wish I could get out of here. If I have to continue the movie metaphor - and clearly I must - I feel a little like I'm starring in high-quality porn: right now, I am walking wish fulfillment.

And that's all well and good, but that's only the first stage. And sometimes the Envy Stage only lasts a fraction of a second before the next stage comes along, the one that take into account I have quit a well-paying, secure job in what is universally acknowledged as The Worst Economic Crisis Since the Great Depression (or, among my cohort, "this shitty situation"). Yes, the second stage is Fear and Pity, and it manifests pretty much the same way for theatre and non-theatre folk alike: a brief pause out of respect for my feelings and possibly my intelligence - perhaps they are going back over what I have said to see if I have already given them some hint of the answer to the obvious question. Then, cautiously, "So ... what are you going to do?"

Well, now it can be told, at least in part: It was made official via press release yesterday that I am the new Managing Director at the side project theatre company. This has been in the works for a while - Nick Keenan brought me into discussions with Adam Webster and the rest a few months back where we talked about where the company was headed and what I might be able to do to help. My job in the near term is going to be putting a lot of structure into place where no structure (or unsustainable structure) existed before. A big chunk will also be (unsurprisingly) catching the side project up to what the rest of us have been doing out here on the internets for a few years - really developing an online presence for the company. And there will be many, many other things that come up along the way - I'm excited to be able to tell you all about some changes to the company's mission that I think will mean some exciting new things happening up in Rogers Park.

Additionally, I've been officially brought on to the team at Marshall Creative - a marketing agency helmed by Schadenfreuder Sandy Marshall and powered fairly exclusively by people from Chicago's theatre and comedy scenes - with the impressive-sounding title of Social Networking Director. This is a pretty big bucket, but Sandy and I have been talking a lot over the past few months about some projects showcasing effective, integrated marketing on Facebook, Twitter, Wordpress and the like. As that develops, I'll certainly be talking about it here.

Neither of these things will, at least in the short term, really pay the bills. I have a small amount of money saved up, which will be a nice cushion for me to focus on really getting off on the right foot on these two huge, cool projects. And, of course, my hunt for agency representation continues - new headshots will be ordered soon and I'll be laying down a voice over demo this weekend. As always - anyone who wants to lend a hand on that front will be received immediately!

I should also note with glee that the post-Touch stage hiatus is over. I will be stepping into the shoes (possibly literally) of the redoubtable Ian Novak to play George Tesman when he departs Raven Theatre's run of Hedda Gabler at the end of June. Then in August, I'll be working with Jen Shook's Caffeine Theatre on Under Milk Wood directed by ascending-star Paul Holmquist and featuring a cast of people who are far, far cooler than me. There are a few things in the works for post September - but I don't want to jinx it. Stay tuned!

For those of you who are wondering (and still reading), as all this is very new, I haven't quite figured out how this effects a couple of other loves of my life. The Chicago Theater Database is long overdue for its facelift and upgrade out of beta, and poor Theatre That Works has been stalled for several weeks as I've gotten all of the above worked out. I'm still committed to both, I just need to figure out how to make it all move at once.

Theatre That Works

noreply@blogger.com (Dan) — Mon, 30 Mar 2009 20:22:00 +0000

Here it comes, folks - Theatre That Works. Read on for the skinny on my new web venture, and how you can contribute right this instant!

TTW grew out of my experience of 3 years writing this blog. In that time, I've increasingly found myself wanting to write about a wider range of personal projects both in theatre and out, as well as longer pieces on the theatre more akin to traditional journalism. In the past few months the number of projects I've gotten into - in social media, arts marketing and management, the world of commercial acting, and more - has multiplied, and my list of Chicago-theatre-specific stories I want to investigate has gotten ever longer. So it seemed like a good opportunity to split the Gordian knot once and for all.

The aim of TTW is a lot like that of the Chicago Theatre Database - to share information about the community with the community. Where the CTDB compiles the dates and names, TTW compiles the stories. The slate - and the site - will be developing for a while, but here are the bullets:

Interviews We'll be sitting down with the hardest working people in town to find out where they got started, how they make it happen and what keeps them going.
Features There are a million stories in the Windy City, and not all of them have to do with financial problems or capital campaigns.
History Chicago's theatre community is a nation of immigrants. It's time we all got schooled about when Shakes was above a bar and John Malkovich had hair and pissed onstage.
Other fun stuff - I have some ideas about fun features for the site, some of which will be rolling out in the near future - like a Twitter round-up from behind the scenes of the weekend's rehearsals, auditions and performances and a Battle of the Show Blurbs. Stay tuned!

One thing you won't be seeing is reviews. Frankly, I think there are more than enough people willing to tell you whether a show is worth seeing. (And we've all been in bad shows - who needs their nose rubbed in it by their friends?) What interests me is the conversation - what does a show make you think about when you walk away, how does it affect your day, or your work? The intersections of artist as audience is something I want to explore - not thumbs angled in judgement.

As you can tell, I'm very excited. Hopefully, we'll start publishing this week (technical issues permitting) - and I've already talked to a few folks who are known for their pen as well as practicing the performing arts, who I think will lend a great perspective (as well as sustainability).

So please check out the site-in-progress, and follow us on twitter. There's going to be plenty of stuff to do!

Photo Call

Theatre That Works wants to tell the story of Chicago theatre is words and pictures! We're looking for production photos, rehearsal photos, set or prop construction photos - we want them all, provided they're dynamic* and high-quality. To find out more, drop me a line!

*When I say dynamic, I am particularly ruling out everyone's standard "2-5 people staring meaningfully" production shot. There better be something going on in the photo, either compositionally or physically.

It's About You, Too

noreply@blogger.com (Dan) — Wed, 11 Mar 2009 19:02:00 +0000

By now, you've all heard about About Face's money troubles and their campaign for $300,000 to keep its doors open - either from the media or from emails from the company. I get these direct appeals fairly frequently these days, and I'm used to politely explaining to the Annual Fund staffers at Steppenwolf or the Goodman that I am, in fact, an actor, and that despite my occasional ability to pay for a mezzanine seat in the Albert, I'm probably not a good target for a fundraising pitch.

Lord knows this hasn't changed - it's actually gotten worse, given my impending (and yes, entirely self-inflicted) joblessness. But this morning I got another of those email solicitations, and I went ahead and kicked them $30, even though it tightens my already tight budget, and I'll tell you why.

It's not simply because they have launched an incredibly smart campaign of pesonal endorsements, though as a proponent of tech-savvy theatre marketing, I want to reward that sort of effort.

Nor is it because they've been upfront about their situation without being hysterical - and have taken smart steps like drastically reducing expenses before making public appeals, though that speaks to me as a lover of good management.

It's not just because About Face does good work, and still takes risks even as they've become a venerable institution.

It's not simply because in a sea of companies founded on little more than hubris, ego, and a vague concept of "challenging audiences," About Face has an honest-to-gosh mission that permeates everything they do and (though this point is a little sad) they are about the only ones serving their constituency. Though certainly, as a kid who owes every ounce of what's good in his life to transformations brought about by having a theatre to play in, I can only imagine the lifeline About Face's Youth Theatre is for LGBTQA kids who face growing up in a social climate that leaves my teenaged melodramas in the dust.

Those are great reasons, sure - but I'll give you another one. Perhaps it's not as powerful or or as direct a point, but I think it has special resonance for those of us who love Chicago theatre, love working in Chicago theatre, and want to see this city really take ownership of its theatre scene and shed that damnable "Second City" moniker once and for all.

Moments before I read this morning's appeal email, I read this in Richard Christiansen's book A Theater of Our Own. Having just detailed the 16-year rise and fall of the storied Remains Theatre, he says:

"Surveying the deaths and catastrophies that had come upon the off-Loop community, John Walker, managing director of Victory Gardens, said, succinctly, 'The field is littered with bodies.' And Remains was not the only theater to go under. Once-productive off-Loop groups such as Stormfield, Huron, Econo-Art, Blind Parrot, Interplay, Immediate, Commons, Blue Rider, Practical, Center and Absolute theaters, igLoo the theatrical group, and Pary Productions all faded away, mostly because of financial problems and/or ensemble breakups.

The disappearance of St. Nicholas, Wisdom Bridge, Body Politic, and Remains, all midsize (up to 250 seats) houses that had played key roles in spurring the remarkable growth of activity in the seventies, created a void in the theater community, unfortunately widening the gap between new, small, low-income troupes and older, larger, more prosperous institutions."

I doubt there's another Chicago actor who's looked at the financial side of Chicago theatres more than me, and I can tell you without a doubt that this gap still exists. Successful mid-sized companies are critical for this city to have a a sustainable scene and for any of us - especially us actors - to actually have a job doing theatre here. Think about it: without the About Face's - or the TimeLine's or the Northlight's - who's going to pay you anything to get up on stage while you're waiting to play 3rd spearcarrier on the left at Chicago Shakes? And for those of you who run small companies, it's those mid-sized theatres that actually help create audiences for your work by showing people that theatre exists outside of 500-or-more-seat venues.

So consider kicking in a little for About Face. Think of it this way - you've spent countless hours painting sets or cleaning costumes or seeing friends' shows for $10 or $15 bucks a pop: not only is a contribution to About Face a worthy effort in and of itself, its another way to show your support for all of Chicago theatre - your friends, your colleagues, and yourself.

What Brave New World

noreply@blogger.com (Dan) — Thu, 05 Mar 2009 20:15:00 +0000

My blog-hibernation for the last month belies a flurry of activity, as well as alternating currents of euphoria and terror which, if nothing else, are equally exhilarating. I am 87 days away from departing full-time, salary-paying, benefits-bestowing employment for ... something else, and I've been figuring out how one makes that transition without, well, dying in a gutter. Much of it has been a process of pushing harder on fronts that until now had only been things I pursued when I had the time, in an effort to see if some amount of income might be on the horizon. In other cases, I'm taking the opportunity to take a big bite out of projects I relegated to the "if I had all the time in the world" bin, because I figure if I'm doing something crazy, why not do several crazy things?

What follows is a recap of what's happened so far, and a preview of what's coming soon.

Touch closed February 14th, to full houses. On top of all the things I've said here and elsewhere about the fantastic process and product produced by the New Leaf crew and the just stellar group that I got to work with, I'm reasonably sure that the show was a watershed for me. I am, of course, grateful for the loads of support and the nice things said about my performance, as any young actor looking to advance his career would be. But more importantly, I got the opportunity to take on a central, dramatic role and did not fall on my face. For now, at least, it's taken some of the edge off the unrelenting desire to prove myself - if to no one except myself. I've found that in the midst of a rather chaotic period, it's surprisingly comforting.

A day after Touch closed I came down with the bubonic flu that seems to be going around, and was laid out in a way that I don't really have any comparison for: it left me unable to do any work at all for a week, and even several weeks later, I'm still feeling the lingering effects.

Thanks to Nick "The All-Giver" Keenan, I've been working with Sandy Marshall on some freelance projects - most notably, crafting seminars to teach the less tech-savvy the benefits and the basics of social networking, along with some strategies for how to augment offline work with online tools. It's a new world for me, but one I'm finding I'm fairly well-suited to. And, as any teacher will tell you, figuring out how to explain things to others clarifies them for you, so I'm discovering tips and tricks for myself, as well.

The long New Headshot Saga has finally wrapped up: I finally bit the bullet and shelled out the big bucks for a session with Janna Giacoppo. You've probably heard this name before - many, many actors in town have used her - and with good reason. Janna and her team were incredibly helpful and the whole shoot was incredibly laid back - which got me some great results. These will probably show up somewhere on this site at some point, but check out her site, and seriously consider her if you need new shots and have the money to spend. It's well worth it.

The New Headshot Saga was sped to its conclusion as a necessary plot development for the longer, sisyphian Agent Saga. I've been fairly criminally negligent in pursuing commercial work or representation in the past - the all-consuming nature of my day-job has been a limiting factor - so I know that these things take time, are often a case of luck or happenstance, and that impatience or a sense of entitlement lead to nothing but ulcers. I've gotten a lot of great advice from folks further down the road than I, and I have a good plan for "getting myself out there" as they say, and I'm content that all avenues that can be explored are being explored. That being said, if you know of any opportunities, I'm interested in hearing more - drop me a line at dan [at] chicagotheaterdb [dot] com.

Speaking of the Chicago Theater Database, as Nick has noted, we recently added a slew of new beta-testers to the site, which has revealed a number of much-needed user-interface improvements. Unfortunately, Nick's consumed with the Goodman's O'Neill Festival, and my programming skills still aren't quite up to the task. The hope is that in the next few months we'll be able to make some big improvements, leading up to the grand door-opening in the spring or summer. Stay tuned.

The whetting stone upon which I'm sharpening my site development and design skills is a ground-up rebuilding of the online home of my boys behind the cameras, Very Clever Productions. There's no official timeline for that project, but sooner is better for all concerned, so I'll point you to anything interesting that might come up along the way.

Lastly, the biggest development of the last several months will have some big impacts on this space. I'm knee-deep in the development of a new site dedicated to writing about the people and the art of Chicago theatre. The biggest difficulty I've had in writing I, Homunculus has been trying to serve two masters: writing about my personal experience as my career develops, and the yen to do something bigger, to rectify the fact that - in my opinion - you can't get more than a partial view of Chicago's theatre scene from the writing generally-available. A big part of the problem is, of course, the fact that theatre coverage is lately the ne'er-do-well nephew of commercial media outlets: a nice-to-have-but-certainly-not-crucial luxury to be indulged sparingly, and only when it can be afforded. My thought is to create a place for writing about Chicago theatre that's produced in the same way most Chicago theatre gets produced - as a labor of passionate artists that asks no more than what it takes to sustain the mission. My plan is to launch on March 27th as part of the World Theatre Day celebrations. I'll post a larger and more detailed announcement soon, but there's good stuff in the works. Watch this space.

This means the ol' Homunculus will probably undergo some changes as well - but just what that looks like, I'm not sure.

That's all for now - it's good to be back!

Referendum

noreply@blogger.com (Dan) — Tue, 27 Jan 2009 00:39:00 +0000

Those of you following my newly inaugurated Twitter feed will know that this past Thursday, I got an unexpected call from Chicago Shakespeare to fill a slot in their general musical auditions today. This wasn't wholly unexpected - I had sent in my materials to CST when they had an open call for submissions a few months ago, and I sent a couple of "come out and see Touch emails to the casting authorities there. But the short notice, and the fact that this was a musical audition (and I haven't really kept the showtune fires burning since 1776 closed almost a year ago), I was more than a little anxious about how to proceed.

One of the big mental shifts that must accompany a person's transition from Theatrical Hobbyist to Theatrical Professional is to stop seeing auditions - no matter how big the company or project - as referenda on one's Talent, Skill, or (you know who you are) Worth as a Human Being, and to start seeing them as opportunities to meet new people, make new connections and to demonstrate what it is you've learned and built so far about the practice of your craft. To put it simply, I've been on enough auditions to know that you will fail if you try to show them What They Want To See - because you really, truly have no idea. You're best (and probably only) bet is to give yourself every chance to reveal yourself at the top of your game, as it stands on that particular day.

I feel good about how my audition went - but the fact is, I felt good about it before I even walked in there. If an audition is a chance to reflect and call upon what one has learned and built, I am immensely pround and humbled and grateful by the assistance and support that was immediately at my disposal when I asked for it: from Jess Hutchinson coming down to Touch early to help me run over a backup monologue, to Andra Velis Simon's patient advice and willingness to give up part of her jealously guarded Sunday morning (not to mention that or her husband) to do an emergency vocal coaching session and help me look like less of a musical theatre rube. And from my sometimes-stern-but-always-supportive supervisors at work who let me cut out of work to prepare to my sister, jetlagged, using some of the mere 48 hours she had back in LA between her honeymoon and another out-of-town engagement to call and give me some much-needed counsel. And all my friends from as near as up the block to as far away as Wales sending me encouragement, positive vibes and well-wishes, and waiting to hear how it went afterward.

Way to often we walk out of auditions thinking, "How can I live like this?" We build them up so much and get so little satisfaction from them that it's hard not to do the math and say, "This ain't worth it."

But if auditions are a referendum - a brash "What Have You Got?" - well, this time around I saw what I got. And as I've found in so many ways over the past few years, it's way more than I expected, or possibly even deserve.

And I can certainly live with that.

And if that wasn't enough, as I made my way through the mall-like interior of Navy Pier, I passed this sign on a platform in the center pavilion, reserved for the children's entertainment that the Pier offers during the day:

I didn't come here to be safe, after all. I came here to be an actor.

Do It for Will

noreply@blogger.com (Dan) — Fri, 23 Jan 2009 19:18:00 +0000

Hey guys - I'm sure most, if not all of you have read this or gotten emails about this via other Chicagotheatreans, but I know some of you who read this are not Chicago-based - and I hope you might take this as a personal request to lend a hand.

As Nick says today, there is a benefit event for Chicago actor Will Schutz at Hydrate tonight, helping to raise money for Will's medical expenses. It seems Will's got pancreatic cancer which, for those of you who aren't oncologists, isn't the good kind of cancer.

This hits home for me in a number of ways - first, i know Will - both from the stage (I loved him in the Sherlock Holmes adaptations at City Lit and his recent - like a couple of months ago - turn in Signal's The Birthday Party which has been on everyone's "Best of" lists, it seems) and from the bar. Secondly, my dad is recovering from cancer-related surgery and my uncle is battling his malignancies much less well, which apart from being draining in and of itself does not bode well for my personal cellular integrity down the road. And lastly, Will's financial situation can't be helped by the fact that - as he related at a recent audition - he quit his job after "busting his hump for two years at a crappy day job" so he could buy himself time to focus on what he loved - performing. Given my own plans and hopes and fears for the near future, I need to believe that we, as a community - not just of shared location but of shared vocation - will reach out to help one another in times of dire need, even when the systems of our society leave us a pretty steep hill to climb.

So do what you can, please:

Our friend Will is currently fighting an illness and, per usual, his hospital bills are pilling up way, way, way beyond his means. Chicago bar HYDRATE (3458 N Halsted St) has very kindly donated their space to the friends of Will (and friends of friends, and strangers!) on Friday, January 23rd between 9 PM and 11 PM in order that we might come together to support our friend and offer up what we can to assist him financially. It’s PAY WHAT YOU CAN, with a suggested donation of $20, though any amount will get you an open bar (well drinks, domestic beer, wine, juice and soda), appetizers and some pretty terrific live entertainment, not to mention new friends. Every penny goes to Will.

If you’re not able to help out financially, no one understands that better than theatre folks and their friends. But we hope you’ll at least consider coming out to show your emotional support in person. And whether you’re able to make it or not, please keep him in your minds and hearts each and every day. He has requested ALL of your prayers and thoughts and well-wishes. God knows, Will is worth every penny you’re able to give, and every ounce of your energy and efforts. And if you don’t know him personally, trust us.

***If you want to donate but can’t come on the 23rd, you can at willschutzpancan.chipin.com ***

Into the Dark

noreply@blogger.com (Dan) — Tue, 06 Jan 2009 18:37:00 +0000

A noted Chicago actor - who was in the middle of an emotionally raw role in a rather unflinchingly dark play - said of his process, "You can't let yourself get too far from those emotions. You have to live in that space or you'll never really get back."

I think this is bullshit, to be sure. I've told this story many times, and the consensus seems to be that - if that actor was really saying what he appeared to be saying - his method is the surest path toward interpersonal ruin and possibly a full-on psychotic break. At the very least, the sentiment strikes me as profoundly adolescent and selfish, especially coming from someone who (unlike most actors) does not have to hold down a full-time job where that kind of volatility is frowned upon.

When I tell the story to fellow players, many have glibly interjected, "it's called acting," as if to suggest that this actor was either a) bereft of skill or b) so far gone already that he couldn't distinguish between life and drama. I don't think either of these things are true, and what's more, I've always instinctively recoiled from that sort of pat dismissal. Of course, we are portraying people we are not in situations constructed to be dramatic. And yes, there should be an acknowledgment of that distinction somewhere in one's brain. But somehow the word "acting" in the popular lexicon has taken on a sense of conscious artifice, of an intent to deceive, of pretending or even manipulation that's always seemed to me at least to be different from my experience (if not the purpose) of playing.

Touch is an emotionally intense show, and living through Kyle's story night after night is the biggest challenge I have yet faced as an actor. I'm not going to claim it's harrowing - only people who've gone through Kyle's sort of tragedy for real get that privilege - but throughout this process, I've had to go down some exceedingly dark alleys and conjure some terrible shadow plays populated by those closest to me. I'm a typically upbeat person - sometimes aggressively so, and I've found that sometimes I collapse back into my own persona at the end of the night and crack a not-particularly-funny joke or do something ridiculous just to put as much distance between me and Kyle as I can. "It's only acting," I remind myself.

But over the last few weeks, I have to admit I've been unsuccessful in leaving it all on the stage at the end of the night. My brain tells me I'm being precious - it's just theatre, and still I'm here to report that thinking doesn't necessarily make it so, but feeling it in some way does. The shadows I swim through on the way to Kyle's climax and catharsis have gotten under my skin. I've found myself a little more in need of reassurance and comfort from those around me, and that the most calculated manipulations of primetime dramas wreck havok on my frayed emotions.

My friend Steve teaches performance theory across the pond, and of particular interest to him is the idea (in the vein of Augusto Boal) of performance as rehearsal for life. I have a sense that part of what attracted me to this story - what made me want to play Kyle from the first time I read the script - was a recognition that contained herein was the story of true love at it's most hopeful and heartbreaking. Arrayed before us is all our fondest wishes for a connection with another human being, and everything we fear we will lose in those moments of midnight dread. Some part of me looked at this role and saw an opportunity to see what it is - indeed, might one day be - to live through those experiences.

I believe that the process of creating a character is a negotiation wherein you are consciously playing mediator between the person you think you are and the person you think you're portraying. In the best case scenario, you have enough common ground to establish a conversation, and build from there. I've been fortunate in that I've seen something of myself in each role I've had - and I've worked with many wonderful directors and collaborators who've helped me, in many cases, break down the borders completely. Sometimes I've ended up with a character that's bigger than the role the script assigns me, and I have to scale it back. The gift I've been given in Touch is the license to go all in, and as a result, when I hit that stage I feel less like I'm playing a role than giving voice to a version of myself. Which is extrordinary, terrifying, and fascinating.

So while I don't demand or relish the sometimes disrupting bleed-over from Kyle's life to mine, I'm not disturbed by it either. It means that I'm hitting close to the mark, that I'm invested, that I'm equally present in the good and bad moments. And that, I think, is what we call acting.

Touch opens tomorrow.

Photography by Lindsay Theo

Escape Velocity

noreply@blogger.com (Dan) — Mon, 05 Jan 2009 16:38:00 +0000

Touch opens in two days. I have some more thoughts I've been meaning to share about this process but, well, I've been a little consumed with the actual doing of the thing. So, in the meantime, here's a teaser produced by my friend Nick Wagner of VeryClever Productions.

(iPhone or similar viewers, Click here for the iPhone version.)

Personal Economy

noreply@blogger.com (Dan) — Thu, 04 Dec 2008 18:40:00 +0000

Sometimes a discussion of process is made clearer through the use of allegory. In the case of our recent discussion of the business models which support theatre, I hereby offer myself as metaphor fodder.

As I mentioned several weeks ago, I've been knee-deep in the same sort of soul-searching most theatre companies come around to at some time or another. I'm fortunate in that I've been able to start from a place of "Where do I want to go?" rather than "Oh shit - what do I do?"

That's because nothing is ostensibly "wrong" with my current business model. Financially, I'm okay - my day job provides a steady stream of income over and above my operating expenses. Artistically, to, I've never been better - like an ensemble cultivated over time, the last few years have allowed me to better understand how I need to work, and I've had a string of recent critical successes.

The problem is, of course, the direction. Like the theatrical enterprise, my days, weeks, and years tend to be relatively preprogrammed and cyclical. And while I think with each pass around the cycle I've widened my orbit - that is, I've sought greater challenges and created more fulfilling opportunities - a certain level of monotony has settled in. And frustration.

If I were a theatre company, I'd call a retreat to hash out where, exactly, we are, where we want to go, and how we want to get there. Not seeking to put the breaks on the cycle, but to harness the momentum that's been created to fire us off on a new, more energizing path. (In retrospect, the activity around my sister's wedding - which forced me to turn down a couple of potential projects and focus on something else - was my retreat.)

I've been looking at my options. As with theatre, there are a couple of off-the-shelf models. I could go Commercial: maybe move to LA or New York and seek work in TV and film. I suppose the "Regional Theatre model" equivalent would be throwing myself whole hog into whatever the robust non-equity scene can offer me - taking paying gigs when I can get them but mostly allowing myself the luxury of working a whole lot while supporting myself with a day job.

What I discovered is that right now, my goal isn't to get rich, or to even make much of a living. Nor is it simply to keep myself busy with projects. My goal, in fact, isn't an achievable end - it's more like a mission statement: I want to live as much of my life as I can pushing my creativity to its limits.

Sounds a little froofy, I know. But I have the only metric of success that matters in this case - a gut sense of how I feel when I am operating on full creative cylinders. And I know when I'm not. Over the past few years I've had a lot of opportunity to get a better sense of things that help, and things that hinder. A lot of them are personal habits, some of them aren't. And like a good mission statement, having this clearly defined and understood goal allows me something against which to view all my options - and has forced me to make some hard decisions.

For instance: what's my most valuable resource in terms of achieving my goal? Unlike theatre production, it ain't necessarily money - it's time. Time to read. Time to write.Time to think. Time to talk with friends and colleagues. Time to - god forbid - sleep. In that light, my day job - which pays me a fairly good amount of money for a near monopoly on my time and energy (as evidenced in this chart produced by the economists at GrubHub) may not be optimal. Further - the nature of the work I do 40 hours a week is not in my creative wheelhouse. So it behooves me to think about a revenue generating model that better supports my mission.

Asking those questions are how I take the froofy "live creatively" and turn it into clearly defined objectives:

6 month goals

Aggressively pursue paid acting opportunities, explore agency representation for commercial and voiceover work
Improve web development skills
Build up savings

Longer term goals

Get more hands-on theatre management skills, especially in marketing and business management
Explore paid writing possibilities, from article writing to transcripting services
Build a web development portfolio and bid on projects

These objectives flow out of my mission, but none of them are my mission - and that's an important distinction. My goal isn't to get an agent, become a web designer, or work for a theatre - although I would like to do any or all of those things. My real goal is to engage with the world in a particular way, and I think these things - properly managed - can help me get to a place where I'm spending less time on things that don't allow me to think and work creatively, and more time on things that do allow my to think and work creatively. All while, you know, not starving.

But of course, this isn't the whole picture. We have (as a former boss would say) the lay of the land from 20,000 feet , and we've zoomed in a little closer to earth - but now we need street view. Changing one's entire mode of living takes some massive changes, but no one can can magically "get an agent" or download web development skills into their head, Matrix-style - just like your theatre company can't suddenly get another $40k in operating capital or increase audiences overnight. And constantly thinking about the size and scope of these big projects tends to paralyze. So you make tasks.

Each project gets tasks - and often subtasks - for each small step, for instance:

Get an agent

Send headshot mailing

Talk to Julie about cover letters
Research agencies
Make agency mailing list
Update resume
Write cover letter draft
Send draft to Julie and Eric
Create cover letter final draft
Get stamps
Create labels
Make packets with cover letter, headshot and resume
Send mailing

Send reminder postcards

Personalize Touch postcards
Create agency labels for postcards
Send postcards (due in 2 weeks)

Not to get all Nick Keenan on you, but I'm not sure I'd have even been able to start taking on all this if it weren't for the iPhone application Things.) The best part is, the way in which I'm executing my plan is already improving my quality of life. Having a plan from big idea down to day-to-day tasks allows me to be super productive and at the same time more relaxed than ever. I sit down at the times when I am most clear-headed, add things, retool the order of tasks and set my goals for the week. And then each day, I don't have to lug out the whole elaborate tapestry again - I look at my "to do next" and figure out what small thing I can get done in the time I have, and have faith that these small steps are taking me where I want to go. I get as much as I can get done while I'm energetic and, when I run out of steam, I can relax knowing I'm making progress in the right direction. It's really, really great.

I've gotten a lot done in the last few weeks - got the aforementioned agency mailing out, gave official notice at work, and did the profoundly-unfun-but-wholly-necessary task of downloading all of my bank and credit card statements, taking a hard look at my expenses, and setting a budget that allows me to enjoy myself in moderation and save a good chunk of change over the last few months of steady paychecks. I've got a lot more to do next week, and the week after, and the week after. But today I'll tick a few more things off, and then I'll shut down the task list and crack open a few beers with friends in celebration of a birthday.

Maybe I can't get this mission going - but at least I've got a goal, and a plan

The Theatre City That Works

noreply@blogger.com (Dan) — Mon, 01 Dec 2008 20:17:00 +0000

On the occasion of Chicago's first snowfall (and, perhaps, apropos of questions I raised last week) comes a bit of perspective from my sister Julie, now 4 years into indentured servitude to the media lords of LA:

She sees a relationship between the tough-it-out mentality that gets Chicagoans through the winters in the Windy City and the make-it-work, never-say-die mentality of our theatre-makers- and suggests the effects on the artist are lasting ones:

"Once you've dug out a friend's borrowed car with a cut-open milk jug, in order to drive an hour to audition for a part that - if you get it - will pay you maybe $100 - that leaves a mark. It's why you don't see theatre companies out here made up of life-long West-Coast actors staying up to 4am painting sets and making press packets."

photo by Emily Barney - used under Creative Commons license

The Precipice of Discovery

noreply@blogger.com (Dan) — Sat, 29 Nov 2008 01:08:00 +0000

Camus casts the actor as existential hero, laughing in the face of death and our own isolated, limited experience of being by allowing us to step into the lives of others - to change realities as easily as we change costumes.

At the very least, working on a character with a different life path than mine encourages me to go back to school, gives me the excuse I need to go explore all the people I was sure I was going to be when I got to the age I am now.

In preparing for Touch, I've become eight years old again, fascinated by the stars and planets and indulging the roller-coaster-drop feeling in my stomach every time it hits me that we are hung precariously in an unimaginably vast void, hurtling at thousands of miles an hour around a sun around a galactic center around a universal core headed toward god-knows-what.

Weeks ago I bought a planisphere and took it out to Welles Park. Of course, the light pollution obscured all but the brightest stars but I still laughed out loud when I saw, for the first time, Draco - long my favorite constellation because it had the coolest name to a kid obsessed with fantasy novels and Double Dragon.

On the beach in North Carolina the weekend of my sister's wedding, I spent many hours staring up at more stars than I ever thought possible, feeling overwhelmed and vaguely worried about coming unmoored from Earth's gravity and drifting silently into space.

Today I went to the Adler Planetarium and spent hours soaking in the astronomical world. I played with every toy they had - high and low tech. I watched two presentations on the giant, dome-shaped screens of the planetarium theatres and remembered looking out my bedroom window one morning almost twenty years ago and seeing the sun and the moon in the sky together and feeling so, so small. Next to me was a kid no older than I was then who laughed - really laughed - at a word play on "general relativity" and I thought instantly of the electronic sign upstairs counting down to the upcoming moon mission asking "Will YOU be next?" Walking outside after the Sky at Night show I immediately found Venus and Jupiter, hovering brightly over the South Side, exactly where their phantom twins had been moments before.

I was primed for all this before I even walked in the door. By complete coincidence, I was working on a particular passage from the opening monologue as I walked east along the museum campus:

"When I was finishing my doctorate, sometimes I was at school long past midnight, so immersed in my work that at certain moments I would have been hard pressed to remember my name. I am capable of looking through a telescope for many, many, many hours uninterrupted ... It's like I am walking along the precipice of discovery the way I walked along the edges of the curb as a child, arms outstretched, keeping my balance with difficulty and knowing that at the end of the block lays an unparalleled feeling of accomplishment. I believe we who live on earth are not the only prescient beings in the universe. It is that belief that helped me begin to understand what Zoe meant by the spirit. The billions of galaxies, the thousands and thousands and thousands of unknowns about atmospheric conditions in those galaxies, the mind-boggling infinite number of possibilities - those are the places - the galaxies, all of them, those are the places where science and the spirit meet."

I fucking love this job.

New Models and the Four Ages

noreply@blogger.com (Dan) — Wed, 26 Nov 2008 15:28:00 +0000

Kris asks - "Do we have too many theatres?" And Adam says, "Only if we're all trying to do the same thing in the same way, artistically and organizationally."

The last time I started thinking about this issue, my attempt to get a handle on who, exactly, we are as a community resulted in the Chicago Theater Database. The past year of working on that project has lent me a little perspective and while I don't have an answer for you, I think I have a better phrasing of the question.

Nick and I want the CTDB to be a non-partisan and non-judgmental tool for theatre artists and enthusiasts, and as such its function and its goal are one and the same - a comprehensive map of the local theatrical landscape. But you can't spend any amount of time starting into the heart of darkness that is our aggregated numbers and not seriously rethink one's personal ambitions for a life in Chicago theatre and our collective goals for the community as a whole. So if there's a "secret agenda" to the CTDB, it's this: to help us move into the Fourth Age of Chicago Theatre.

Chicago began as a stop along the way west for touring companies - think Jack Langrishe from Deadwood. Chicago's attraction for these itinerant players grew as the city became larger and more wealthy. A few troupes may have set up shop for longer stays, but our theater was almost exclusively imported and transient - as were our stars, like Joseph Jefferson. The work on the stage, too, was a double-import - productions travelling from the East Coast came West, but were themselves almost always imports of what was popular in Europe. And more often than not, the European playwrights of the period tended to rely on the tried and true method of copying the characters, format and structure of commercially successful predecessors.

Local theaters started growing up here when they started growing up everywhere, with the rise of the Regional Theatre model. Supported by subscribers, they were (and are) a home for local talent and local audiences alike. Founded on a non-profit aesthetic and supported by the subscriber/donor model, Regional Theatre's noble goal was to establish theatres where no theatre had been before - and it was (and is) a great vehicle for bringing celebrated artists and works to your doorstep. But the "localness" tended not to extend to the work itself - the focus was simply to be theatre in Chicago, not necessarily theatre of Chicago.

This localization set the stage for the next generation, who took access to theatre in their city for granted, and perhaps felt entitled to be part of the artistic conversation. Setting up in church basements and disused commercial and industrial spaces, Storefront Theatre was the next step in a progression from commercially-based to community-based theatre. The work started to reflect local artists more completely - young, visceral and profane artists produced young, visceral and profane plays and performances. Limited budgets meant "intimate" environs and stripped-down stagings. For maybe the first time, the focus was on the work itself, with little thought going into profit or organization. Anybody could do it, and it seemed like everyone was.

Up to this point, we have a pretty compelling generational recreation myth. Regional Theatre rose up like the titans to take the throne of Commercial Theatre, and Storefront Theatre rose to take on Regional Theatre. Of course, this is an oversimplification - there were local troupes back in the 19th Century and touring shows still do big business. But that story really falls apart when you look at where we are today: while our storefront Zeus is slugging it out with our regional Kronos, suddenly Ouranos is back in a big way in the avatar of Broadway in Chicago.

But the allegory breaks down even further: in the Greek creation story, Ouranos, Kronos and Zeus represent huge shifts in values and reflected a fundamental change in the way the world operated. In that context, Steppenwolf - the undisputed hero of the storefront movement - isn't Zeus, it's Hercules: a demigod with one foot in a new artistic model of ensemble-driven theatre and the other foot in the non-profit, board-and-subscriber-directed model of regional theatre. And just like the Hercules myth, when Hercules achieved enough, the Olympian gods just up and made Hercules a fully-fledged god like one of them. And just like that, Hercules' had no one to fight with. I'm not making a value judgment on Steppenwolf's work at all - I like a lot of it - I'm just saying that if you've spent anytime inside the offices (as I have), look at their donor roles, or see that their budget is more than four times the next biggest local non-profit theatre, you have to realize that somewhere along the way they became a Regional Theatre. And so it is with any Storefront Theatre - there is some intangible point where it stops thinking of itself in one way and starts thinking of itself in another way.

And this is where we are today. The storefront movement has thus far failed to become a bonafide transformational model because we have no concept of what defines us beyond "small" and "underfunded." We have no idea what success looks like for Storefront Theatre that doesn't involve becoming a Regional Theatre (or, much less likely, a Commercial Theatre). And if you don't know who you are or what you are trying to achieve, you can't make the decisions that will take you there.

Look at the models discussed above: before Commercial Theatre became the domain of big, consolidated promoters based in New York, you had tiny stock companies running the length and breadth of the country trying to do exactly one thing: make a living by performing plays. All decisions were geared toward that: costs were kept low. Actors were hired to play "lines of business" - character roles which appeared in almost every play (eg. the romantic lead, the ingenue, the clown, the villain), and they had to buy and maintain their own costumes. Scripts were picked solely for their marketability (and were dropped or retooled if they failed), and companies would have as many as 45 plays ready to perform at a moment's notice. Design was minimal - you had a forest backdrop, a country home backdrop, and perhaps a cityscape and you used those for whatever was needed. When audiences dwindled, the companies packed up and moved on.

With Regional Theatre, the primary beneficiary is seen as the local community. The aspiration isn't financial, but a sort of communal spiritual enrichment, reflected in mission statements which promise to "contribute to the social and cultural well being." Much effort is put into making partnerships with local institutions, swelling subscriber rolls, and producing work that will reflect the values of the theatre's locality.

If where you end up reflects what you want, the storefront theatre world is a schizophrenic bunch: there are individual success when particular artists go off to get rich and famous - or at least make a living wage - on their own, or organizational success, where the structure which enables theatre to be produced takes on a life of its own, usually separate from the artistic collective which spawned it. Those of us who work within storefront groups have been living in the shadows of commercial and regional titans for too long. We have an opportunity, as Adam puts it, to think creatively not just about a production, but about everything we do.

So what is Storefront Theatre? What are its essential qualities? What -if anything - makes it more than just "commercial theatre on a budget" or "regional theatre on a budget"? Everything else starts to follow that - what work do we do, where do we do it, how does the work get done, how do we pay for it? Being honest about where you want to go - personally first, then as part of a group - will help you make decisions that will save a lot of heartache and potentially a lot of time and money. And if we all can take a long look at where we are, who we are, and where we're going, we might just get started on building what's next.

Life is What Happens When You're in Rehearsals

noreply@blogger.com (Dan) — Tue, 18 Nov 2008 18:38:00 +0000

Last Tuesday, my odometer ticked over another year, and I thought I was fine with not doing anything special.

I have since discovered this is bullshit.

So I'll be camping out this Friday, November 21 at the Grafton in Lincoln Square and hoping to see my friends, so if you're in the neighborhood and want to drop in, please do. I'm going to get there as close to 6:00pm as I can so I can grab a spot by the fireplace, and I'll be there late into the night in case you want to come by after your show or rehearsals (but if they're making you rehearse on a Friday, fuck 'em!)

Numb3rs

noreply@blogger.com (Dan) — Fri, 24 Oct 2008 23:39:00 +0000

It's all about the data, baby. I'm elated that there are some folks in our business - that is, non-commercial theatre - who are interested in hard numbers at a community (as opposed to individual organization) level. However, I'm wondering, "to what end?"

One survey seems to be of the type of demographic research of companies looking to sell you stuff - which in the right hands could be useful in, for instance, convincing commercial institutions to buy ads or otherwise infuse cash into the system in exchange for getting to your eyeballs. But what's the payoff for artists directly? The space survey seems slightly more practical - but the questions seem to focus more on "how crappy is your place?" Here, too, I wonder - why are they asking, and how does it serve the people who are filling it out? Anybody who can shed some light, please do - lord knows I'm interested in these things.

(h/t to The Playgoer)

A Response to Mr. Jones

noreply@blogger.com (Dan) — Sat, 18 Oct 2008 23:59:00 +0000

Chris Jones, in his review this week of the Broadway revival of All My Sons calls for co-star Katie Holmes to display "a little more Toledo" and invest a little more of "her modest origins" into her performance.

Though I don't envy anyone trying to convey nuanced emotions to a 1,000 seat house, I'm reasonably sure she hasn't been on stage since she was Lola in Damned Yankees at St. John's Jesuit more than 10 years ago. (I remember it being a bit of a scandal since she hadn't gotten any substantial parts at her own school, Notre Dame, where she milled about in the chorus for a few years and suffered the indignity of being my first dance partner before being whisked off to Dawson's Creek shortly after graduation.)

However, I do want to be clear about one thing, as anyone from T-town will tell you: Katie's family is from the suburb of Sylvania (median family income: $73,947). I, on the other hand, am from Toledo (median family income: $41,175). I have also been on the stage a few times since 1997. So, Mr. Jones, if you really want to see what the Glass City has to offer (and there aren't, you know, any M*A*S*H reruns on), I suggest coming down to see New Leaf's production of Touch, opening January 7.

Punting

noreply@blogger.com (Dan) — Thu, 16 Oct 2008 15:04:00 +0000

While I do have some thoughts on Touch, my explorations into life after day job, and more, this morning at least I am punting by pointing those interested in what's going on with the CTDB and/or with helping us out on the project to check out the latest post on the Datablog.

Carolina, or Change

noreply@blogger.com (Dan) — Fri, 10 Oct 2008 14:21:00 +0000

A couple of weeks ago, my sister got married to an awesome guy in a ceremony on the South Carolina coast that was right out of a book, provided that book was about awesome wedding ceremonies. The festivities continued this past weekend in my hometown in Ohio, where there was a confluence of family and friends that was nigh on historic.

So maybe it's the forced perspective of standing as an adult person with figures only hazily remembered from youth, or maybe it's the crispness of the air, or the lack of allergens in that air, but I feel very much awake (if not well-rested) for the first time in a long time.

And like any long-sleeper recently awakened, I feel I got to move.

I don't want to be needlessly coy - I've given myself a specific date by which I will have left my day job. It's not really a huge shift - I've never made any overtures about my tenture being a long-term thing. But I've found myself stuck in a frustrated stasis - the same feeling I had before I started performing in Chicago - which signalled to me that I was once again doing little more than waiting for the elusive Change Fairy to come and bless me with the life I want to live.

I'll stop there, for fear of devolving into Artist's Way-style empowerment schlock. Suffice it to say I've spent the last week putting a lot of wheels in motion, calling in favors and getting advice, trying to give myself as many potential freelance-style revenue streams as possible before the Big Day comes - via writing, performing, design, etc. I'm also keeping an eye out for a suitable daytime position that might move me closer to my actual career goals in arts management.

And yes, I know - it's not the best market environment to try and do this. But hey, I moved out here with no money, no job, no contacts and very few professional skills barely 18 months after 9/11 and managed to get this far. Now that I actually know what I'm doing, I think I can make it work.

The other big looming event (because one is never enough) is the production I will begin working on in just a few weeks' time: Touch with New Leaf. It's hard to convey how excited I am. First of all, I think New Leaf is a fantastic, smart company - and I'm looking forward to working with Nick Keenan on something else. Next, it is a massive role: so if the show sucks, it's my fault.

But most importantly, I've never had such a visceral response to a script. I cried just reading it through, which for me is a big deal. I'll certainly be blogging more about the process, but I should say now that while performing always carries that mix of "Put me in, Coach" enthusiasm and "Who am I to try?" self-doubt, I've never felt it in such potent concentrations.

noreply@blogger.com (Dan) — Wed, 24 Sep 2008 20:25:00 +0000

Start raising questions on the blogosphere and you might get some answers.

Here's some more data on the Free Night program, via Ben at the League. Chicago ticket buyers reserve a ticket via the TCG site (which is co-branded with the League logo, though not the company logo). That page requires the patron to fill out a short survey, which has netted some interesting - and encouraging - data: according to Ben, 75% of the Free Night attendees nationwide are new to that particular theater. Good news - it means that reducing the barriers to entry is encouraging folks to use the Free Night to take a risk. (What it rather pointedly doesn't ask is the standard "How many theatrical performances do you attend in a given year?", which would tell you if these folks are actually non-theatergoers, rather than simply not-this-theatergoers. There's some more to say about this survey, and since Ben says the results will be shared with each theatre, I'm definitely going to post later about how one might utilize this data in marketing and audience building.)

"1/3 of the patrons came back to the theater to buy a ticket or subscription later in the year," says Ben. That's based on data from a follow-up survey to ticket reservers later in the year. (I would say that result is probably at least a little low, since they are bound to have some non-responders.)

As far as promotion, the League's been promoting Free Night through "partners and their email lists, neighborhood chambers of commerce, city of Chicago employee newsletters, Gene Siskel Film Center, the Illinois Arts Council, WXRT and yelp.com, as well as posting on craigslist" and other low-hanging-online fruit. Not bad, but this helps you know where else you can put some effort. I would wager companies like the House or Dog & Pony, who have a younger and hipper appeal than your average company, could create their own posters promoting the Free Night, targeted at their contemporaries in bars, clubs, coffeeshops and bookstores.

Keep asking questions, people!

Getting Something Out of Nothing

noreply@blogger.com (Dan) — Wed, 24 Sep 2008 19:22:00 +0000

I replied to a post over at Kris Vire's blog about TCG's Free Night of Theatre Program, and Ed (friend of the blog) responded with a great comment of his own. I started crafting a response to him there, but when I got to the tenth paragraph I knew I needed to put it here instead. Check out Vire's post and the comments, then circle back here.

Ed's point about seeing more theatre is exactly what I had in mind when I said avid theatre-goers such as yourself want to save a buck. And I'm not saying we shouldn't give out discount tickets - far from it.

He is are exactly right about his value to a theatre organization - but Ed is further along the chain than the people the Free Night of Theatre is trying to target. I would never accuse him (or any body who buys a discount ticket) of "robbing" companies - I was just reflecting a point of view (perhaps without much art) I've heard while working on shows.

Discount tickets are never an end to themselves, but they are used to do a lot of different things: getting butts in the seats so actors have a real live audience to hone their performances, making sure there are some friendly faces (and voices) in the house on press night, generating buzz among a key constituency, thank yous to volunteers. It can also be an incentive used to get people at one stage of "audience development" into the next stage. Theatre-building 101 tells you that you want to get never-beens to attend, attendees to be repeat attendees, repeat attendees to become devotees (who then become donors who become repeat donors who become regular donors, etc.)

From an organizational standpoint, the Free Night of Theatre Program is clearly aimed at audience development: the TCG site says it wants to attract "thousands of new theatregoers and introducing them to joys of live theatre."

I love the sentiment - as anyone who has been unlucky to find me around Konak at about 12:30am can attest, I never tire in talking about it. My questions here are about tactics: how is the program going to be advertised to the people it wants to reach? By definition it can't be any of the places theatre's usually advertise, because this isn't geared for theatre's usual audience. An ad on the TCG site, or the League's site, or the participating theatre's site isn't going to reach anybody who isn't already looking for theatre.

Then you get into demographics and targetting - well, who in the non-theatregoing population is most likely to attend theatre if the ticket was free? How old are they, what other activities are they involved in? What websites, magazines, social networking services, etc. do they use?
Who's responsible for placing those ads? TCG? The League? Or is it up to individual companies?

If you don't target, you're not going to hit who you want. Advertising free tickets in all the usual places is going to get a lot of people to come, but they'll be people who already see theatre. Maybe they are people who wouldn't have seen your show otherwise - and maybe they will go tell their friends. Good? Sure! But that's not the stated goal of the program.

If I were a company, and I was about to jump on board with this program, I'd be asking these questions - just so I know how to get the most out of the event. It's not about knocking down the idea - it's about knowing what your part in making it a success is.

And again, this is only the first part. As I said, the goal is not just to get people in the door, but get them back. As far as I know, it's up to the individual theatres to take care of everything after the ticket has been reserved. Fine - TCG can't run your theatre for you - but participating companies need to be aware that it isn't magically going to increase your attendance from here on out: you need to get people to give you information, you should be prepared with discounts to future shows, you should have a follow-up plan to thank them for coming and other communications so that those folks remember your company - your brand - and not just "that play I went to about the dying girl."

This is time-consuming stuff, but it's absolutely essential to building a company on anything other than the blind luck of a hit show. I'm not accusing anybody - not TCG, not the League - of being stupid or having bad ideas. I think this is a great idea. Actually, what I've seen is one half of a great idea. I know there's probably a more detailed version somewhere, but I haven't seen it. I'm just pointing out that giving away tickets is not hard to do, and that as far as creating new theatregoers goes, it's only the beginning. Knowing who to give tickets to, and when, and how to reach them, and how to get them back - that's the hard stuff: that's the stuff companies - especially ytoung companies - need help with, and that's the stuff I want to hear about. Getting a full house is by any measure a hit out of the ballpark, but it ain't a home run until you touch all the bases.

Wings

noreply@blogger.com (Dan) — Fri, 19 Sep 2008 22:27:00 +0000

Trust was performed at the Raven Theatre's West Stage, and as with any storefront venue, creativity went into shaping the playing space. Strategically placed black drapes bridge structural peculiarities, covering up odd architectural nooks and crannies, creating both a well-defined and well-lit canvas for the story, and pools of shadow that have long been my favorite places in the universe.

In Trust, one side of the stage had two sets of curtains with a foot or two between them, creating a sort of air lock designed to keep offstage light from spilling on to the stage, and vice versa. You would insert yourself into this cocoon well before your entrance and wait for your cue.

Standing there, your know you're just inches away from the being seen, a secret separated from the most public of spaces by a wisp of cloth. Knowing all you have to do is put out your hand and the carefully crafted illusion would be shattered.

It's thrilling. Like hiding under the covers. Like sex in an airplane restroom.

Technically, there really isn't a word for these places - in the old proscenium days you had the wings, named because they spread straight out to either side of the stage. If we called these places anything, I guess we’d call them that.

These are true liminal spaces, membranes between states of being. This is where you face the disparity between who you are and who you can be.

Weird stuff happens in these places. You face yourself: I still remember a particular college production, when the whole strange nature of theatre came crashing down on me in one, brief moment of existential panic. "What am I doing? Why am I wearing these clothes that aren't mine? Why is my hair like this? Why am I going to go out and stand in front of people and pretend they aren't there? Why am I going to say words that aren’t my own?”

But then the lights went down, the music started, and I stepped into the light.

You’re not always the only person there. 1776, performed in the Chopin's main stage, had two voms on either side of the seating area. Jeremy Trager was almost always to be found off house right. Since we were just behind and below the entire audience, we certainly couldn’t talk. Sometimes we'd make up alternate choreography to the number being performed. Occasionally we'd gesture obscenely at the guys on stage and double over in silent laughter.

Laughter on the 23rd Floor had an entire upstage wall to wait behind, and a cast that loved to mess around. One of my favorite things about that show was the fantastically adolescent pre-show ritual that grew up between Noah Simon, Greg Hardin and myself.

But there is always the moment of being alone in the dark, even if just for a few seconds. Every night of Laughter’s 13 weeks, the music would swell, the lights fade to black, and my heart would leap into my throat as I stood there, again, wondering how in the hell I was going to start the show with a monologue that I never felt like I got right, how I was going to be the person I was supposed to be.

Then I grabbed the knob, opened the door, found the speck of glow tape that told me where my chair was, and went for it.

That nervousness is a constant, though it’s been nearly 2 decades since the first time I stepped on stage. Sometimes it's terrifying - if performance anxiety is going to strike, it'll strike here. You must be silent, and you must be focused on what you need to do when you step through that curtain or around that bend. Hidden from view, you can’t hide from yourself, or the expectations of the people on and around that stage. The entire run of Trust, I had a rite that spanned the entire intermission, just to tamp down the butterflies and propel me onto the stage for my Act 2 monologue. There wasn’t a single night where I didn’t need to psych myself out in order to go look the audience in the eye.

But it’s also profoundly exciting. Think of the feeling you have lying in bed, having just woken up from your favorite lucid dream, in which you are who you have a mind to be, in which you can go and do whatever you want - even impossible things, things you will never experience in your waking life. Lying in bed, you get the sinking realization that you are being pushed by circumstance out into the normal world, to your limited existence and limited choices.

Waiting in the wings is the inverse of this feeling: in this moment you know you are compelled in the other direction, out of the ordinary into the unusual, from the limited to the limitless.

And even better, this world of possibilities is shared. In the best of times, actors get to be that first bird in a flock that leaps into the sky, cajoling and inspiring the audience to keep up with us.

Stepping out of the wings, we take flight.

The Journey of 1000 Steps

noreply@blogger.com (Dan) — Fri, 29 Aug 2008 20:31:00 +0000

We got there. Thank you all, once again.

Nick and I will be spending the weekend cleaning and loading data into the CTDB, and I'll spend my Labor Day laboring over the data, working on my article for PerformInk. I've only got 750 words, so if last year is any measure, there will be a lot more where that came from. So watch this space for numbers, notions and more as we look forward to the 2008-9 Season.

The Homestretch: You Can Help! [Updated 8-26]

noreply@blogger.com (Dan) — Sat, 23 Aug 2008 22:33:00 +0000

[I'm cross-posting this bit of crowd sourcing from the Datablog.]

We're closing in on the close of the PerformInk Season Preview Survey, and I have spent the last few weeks trying to reach out to as many companies as possible to try and make this the most comprehensive survey of our theater scene yet conducted.

My concern as we head into the homestretch is that the word hasn't gotten to everyone - some of the direct invites and reminders I've sent seem to have been languishing in unread mailboxes or filtered out for one reason or another - possibly due to the necessarily link-laden format of the email.

Carrie Kaufman from PerformInk and Ben Theim from the League are helping by reaching out to the bigger companies that haven't yet responded. I'm trying to get the word to the dozens of smaller companies - just to make sure they have the opportunity to participate. I started with a list of nearly 100, but was able to knock off a dozen or so from thinking of friends I knew who were company members or associates. I took the list backstage to Trust and the cast and crew told me who they could send a message to. We're getting down to the last few dozen from the original invite list, and I'm sure that you all can help get word to rest.

Here's all you have to do: just send an email or make a phonecall to whoever you know from this list, letting them know that PerformInk and the CTDB want them to be included in the survey! Just tell them to email me (at dan [at] chicagotheaterdb.com) and I can get a survey invite to them post-haste.

If the company is defunct or on hiatus, we want to know that too - it's actually really important information in the grand scheme of things. But we'll still want to get in touch with someone associated with the group, because we still want the company's information for the Database - we're going to record what the company did during its lifetime.

So please, take a look at the list below and help get the word out. I'll start marking names off as they respond to the survey. Let's make this happen, people!

And thanks.

~~500 Clown~~
~~A Reasonable Facsimile Theatre Company~~
Actor's Revolution Theatre
Albany Park Theatre Project
Albright Theatre Company
Alphabet Soup Productions
Apex Theatre Company
A-Squared Theater Workshop
Azusa Productions
Black Forest Theater
~~Blackbird Theatre Company~~
Blindfaith Theatre
bluemoonstudiotheater
Bruised Orange Theatre Company
~~Chicago Fusion Theatre~~
Chicago Opera Theater
~~Collision Theatre Company~~
~~Covered Bridge Children's Theatres~~
Democracy Burlesque
Dream Engine
Echo Theater Co.
Emerald City Theatre Company
EP Theatre
Fehinty African Theatre Ensemble
First Street Playhouse
~~Full Voice~~
~~Galileo Players~~
Garrick Players
~~GayCo Productions~~
GroundUp Theatre
Hidden Talent Theatre
Hypatia Theatre
Illinois Theatre Center
Imagination Theater
Janus Theatre
Keyhole Theatre Company
Kidworks Touring Theatre
~~Kirk Players~~
La Costa Theatre
~~Links Hall~~
Marriott Theatre, The
Mary-Arrchie Theatre
MOB Productions
Mom and Dad Productions
MPAACT (Ma'at Production Assoc of Afrikan Centered Theatre)
National Pastime
New Branch Theatre Company
NightBlue Performing Arts Theater
Nightingale Group
Noble Fool Theatricals
Not Waiting Productions
Ouroboros Theatre Company
Pegasus Players
Peninsula Players Theatre
~~People's Theatre of Chicago~~
~~Pine Box Theatre~~
pretty blue sky
Remarcable Productions
Riddlemark Theatre Company
Sandbox Theatre Project
Serendipity Theatre Collective
Silent Theatre
Soapbox Theatre Company
Stage Wright
~~Steel Beam Theater~~
Striding Lion InterArts Workshop
The Box Theatre Group
The Journeymen
The Route 66 Theatre Company
Two Lights Theatre Company
Up & Coming Theatre
Virtuoso Performing Arts
Zombie Fortress Arts Collective

Mr. Granata is My Dad

noreply@blogger.com (Dan) — Mon, 04 Aug 2008 19:12:00 +0000

A very serious-sounding article about the CTDB just popped up on Chicago Metblogs, penned by Chicago actor and stage combatant Chris Walsh (who was Hutch to my Starsky - or vice versa - in Chalk last fall).

Chris shot me an email a few weeks ago asking if I wanted to say anything about the project for an article he was writing. I said, "Sure, give me a call and we'll chat." That chat ended up being about an hour and a half of me breathlessly describing in excruciating detail how the project came to be and all my hopes and dreams for the thing. I'm a little self-conscious about how me-centric the article is - and how little Nick is featured, since he's actually more important to the database these days than I am, but I'm glad for the publicity for the project. Chris is a really great guy, and I more-or-less consider this article a personal favor, even if he doesn't see it that way.

I swear to God I'll start talking about something other than the CTDB again soon (I do have a show opening in a few days, after all) - but it's rather consuming right now. Look for some updates on the Datablog later this week, reflecting the early returns from the survey (the response from companies big and small has been almost overwhelming), and what came out of mine and Nick's first face-to-face meeting in weeks.

It's All Happening

noreply@blogger.com (Dan) — Thu, 31 Jul 2008 22:37:00 +0000

In a last, delirious push, I finished the final revision of the Season Preview and sent out the invitations to 234 of the 239 companies we know of and suspect are producing in Chicago.

I point you once again to the Datablog for the official announcement, but I want to make a personal appeal to the theatrosphere. Many of you who read my blog also write blogs frequented by Chicago theatre folk. I'm asking all those of you who support the project to help publicize the survey. The more people who know about the survey, the greater the chance word will get to those smaller companies who don't check their emails too often, or the folks who we outright missed when compiling the initial list of companies.

Take a look at the survey - we worked pretty hard to make it adaptable, comprehensive, and user-friendly. Click around it to drill down on some of the questions - there's a lot of show/hide functionality (and don't worry, if you use the UserID "Browsing" you're not screwing anything up.)

A good response from the theatre community will mean not only some great, detailed information on what the 2008-9 season holds. This is the largest and most complete inventory (if you'll excuse the word) of how theatre gets done in Chicago. Once we get this data back, we'll be able to serve it up to everyone via the CTDB - along with the tools to dig deeper, slice it apart, lay it end to end and generally give everyone a chance - for maybe the first time - to get the lay of the land. I mean, I'm excited just thinking about it.

And it all starts right here. So please help spread the word.

The Longest Yard

noreply@blogger.com (Dan) — Fri, 25 Jul 2008 21:34:00 +0000

Sunday is a very special day.

Sunday is the first entire day in months when I have no obligations. No day job. No rehearsal. No extra-curricular filming. No show I promised to see. Nothing.

(Well, I do have a costume fitting - but seriously, that's dress-up.)

Laughter on the 23rd Floor closes - and I say "finally" in the most non-loaded fashion possible - tomorrow night. Trust has a designer run-through tomorrow during the day.

But Sunday is mine. All mine.

What shall I do? Watch The Wire? Watch Deadwood? Sleep? Who knows!

Well, actually, I know what I will really be doing. I am mere hours from sending out the long-promised PerformInk/Chicago Theater Database Season Preview. The prep work for this has been insanely consuming - I had to design a new survey from scratch, trying desperately to anticipate the needs of every possible user, while still figuring out a way to ensure the information we get out of it is actually, you know, understandable.

I've also spent a considerable amount of time tracking down email addresses for theatre companies. Of the 239 companies I will be emailing direct, personal invitations to, we only came up short on 17 - a hit rate of 93%! I've posted a call-to-arms on the Datablog - so please head over there to see if you can help close the gap.

I also know we still don't have everybody in the tent - so I'll be asking you all for help on this in the next few days. Please check back this weekend for your mission, should you choose to accept it.

And I promise (super pinky swear) my imminent return to semi-regular blogging grows imminent-er.