I'm uncertain as to how this happened. I had planned on having a great deal more room to breath at the end of a massive project push for my day job which wrapped up at the end of May. But since then things have only seemed to have ratcheted up to an absurd pace. You know that dream where you show up to work only to realize you aren't wearing pants. This scenario has become a real life active concern for me. I've had to reschedule a VO session 4 times in the last 24 hours. I feel as though I'm constantly putting out a thousand fires, half of which I helped start in the first place. I'm no longer forgetting what happened during the day a week ago, now I"m just forgetting the entire week. Someone once told me that time moves faster as you get older but this is getting a little absurd. I feel like I blink on Monday morning and when I open my eyes it's Monday morning the following week. I have a feeling that if this acceleration of time continues by the time I'm 50 I may generate a dimensional rift that sucks me into an alternate universe where people have tentacles on the backs of their knees and Carrot Top is President.
In other news I received offical word that USP got its MRAC grant for our 2011 season. Which is weird because I could have sworn I just turned that thing in a couple of days ago. Wait...which month is this?
Wednesday, June 30, 2010
Tuesday, June 29, 2010
Tuesday Samurai - Curtains
The Tuesday Samurai has been a bad, little Samurai! I apologize for my absence over the last few weeks. Business trips, shows, hot weather, and a general sense of "What day is it?" all contributed to my completely spacing out on the blog! But those are silly excuses. What's important is that I'm back!
This weekend I'm off to Vancouver to explore a new city to which I've never been and spend some time with my parents, who will be "docking" in Vancouver for a conference after their Alaskan cruise, which followed a family friend's wedding in Seattle. Did you follow all that? Probably not...which means you still have your sanity. Quota nuts.
Moving on.
As I research a city to decide what I will do, I'm sure I won't shock anyone by saying that the actor son of an architect looks for the city's greatest architectural gems...theaters! Which got me thinking...I really love theaters. The actual structures. There's nothing like a classic theater in my eyes, which is why I love that USP performs at the Sabes Jewish Community Center. The house may be puzzling in it's wide and shallow seating area, but the wing space and full fly loft and attached shop...well...I just frakkin' love it!
When I was a kid, I was obsessed with theaters. I had a pad of grid paper and I would draw up plans for glorious theater buildings. Wing space, dressing rooms, rehearsal rooms, administrative offices, huge houses where every audience member has an awesome seat.
In other words, I had very few friends as a child. But the theaters I "built" were amazing!
And curtains. Don't get me started on curtains. When I was performing in How to Succeed in Business Without Really Trying, I would often stand in the wings at the end of Act I to see the curtain fall on the "Rosemary" reprise. There's nothing like a good curtain falling to say, "See you in fifteen!"
In other words, I may have more friends now, but I'm still a huge geek.
And you know what? I'm OK with that. Because I know there's thousands of kids out there every year who are developing a love for live theater...somewhere, somehow...because of "geeky" things like floor plans and curtains. Or maybe their obsession is the look of a single light in an otherwise dark room, or how to accessorize clothing with things that look expensive but are super cheap. And all these geeky kids will come together one day and put on a show and it will make people laugh, cry, go "Wow", and wildly applaud.
And I'll be clapping with them.
Have a great Independence Day weekend! If you have any travel tips for Vancouver, shout 'em out!
Ryan Grimes
Managing Director
Urban Samurai Productions
This weekend I'm off to Vancouver to explore a new city to which I've never been and spend some time with my parents, who will be "docking" in Vancouver for a conference after their Alaskan cruise, which followed a family friend's wedding in Seattle. Did you follow all that? Probably not...which means you still have your sanity. Quota nuts.
Moving on.
As I research a city to decide what I will do, I'm sure I won't shock anyone by saying that the actor son of an architect looks for the city's greatest architectural gems...theaters! Which got me thinking...I really love theaters. The actual structures. There's nothing like a classic theater in my eyes, which is why I love that USP performs at the Sabes Jewish Community Center. The house may be puzzling in it's wide and shallow seating area, but the wing space and full fly loft and attached shop...well...I just frakkin' love it!
When I was a kid, I was obsessed with theaters. I had a pad of grid paper and I would draw up plans for glorious theater buildings. Wing space, dressing rooms, rehearsal rooms, administrative offices, huge houses where every audience member has an awesome seat.
In other words, I had very few friends as a child. But the theaters I "built" were amazing!
And curtains. Don't get me started on curtains. When I was performing in How to Succeed in Business Without Really Trying, I would often stand in the wings at the end of Act I to see the curtain fall on the "Rosemary" reprise. There's nothing like a good curtain falling to say, "See you in fifteen!"
In other words, I may have more friends now, but I'm still a huge geek.
And you know what? I'm OK with that. Because I know there's thousands of kids out there every year who are developing a love for live theater...somewhere, somehow...because of "geeky" things like floor plans and curtains. Or maybe their obsession is the look of a single light in an otherwise dark room, or how to accessorize clothing with things that look expensive but are super cheap. And all these geeky kids will come together one day and put on a show and it will make people laugh, cry, go "Wow", and wildly applaud.
And I'll be clapping with them.
Have a great Independence Day weekend! If you have any travel tips for Vancouver, shout 'em out!
Ryan Grimes
Managing Director
Urban Samurai Productions
Friday, June 25, 2010
shoes
I have spent the last couple of days up to my eyeballs in shoes...I have sorted through every pair of shoes in my theatre, separated by type and color, and then put in bins in a neatly organized manner. All in all, there is a total of 182 pairs of shoes.
I have been told or have overheard the significance of shoes with actors...putting on a new pair of shoes is similar to walking in that characters shoes. It helps build character, it's supposed to help them stay in character while in rehearsal (sometimes this is not accomplished so well), and it's supposed to give insight to how this character moves and such. My question is, why just the shoes? Why not the whole costume? Maybe jewelry perhaps? or even the makeup said characters use?
So as I understand the statement, 'walking in someone else's shoes', I guess I question why just the shoes?
This is what happens to a techie who is cleaning the costume room out. Ponderings about shoes...
I have been told or have overheard the significance of shoes with actors...putting on a new pair of shoes is similar to walking in that characters shoes. It helps build character, it's supposed to help them stay in character while in rehearsal (sometimes this is not accomplished so well), and it's supposed to give insight to how this character moves and such. My question is, why just the shoes? Why not the whole costume? Maybe jewelry perhaps? or even the makeup said characters use?
So as I understand the statement, 'walking in someone else's shoes', I guess I question why just the shoes?
This is what happens to a techie who is cleaning the costume room out. Ponderings about shoes...
Wednesday, June 23, 2010
This Is How Plays Don't Get Written...
Since I last blogged
I saw and wrote reviews for the Twin Cities Daily Planet on "Le Squat" (Friday), "Baby With The Bathwater" (Saturday), and "The Mystery of Irma Vep" (Tuesday).
Worked the full-time day job the usual Monday through Friday, plus shifts at the Guthrie box office on Saturday and Sunday.
Started a project on my family to share with my goddaughter Ursula (we'll all feel more like sharing if we agree it's for a 1 year old).
Posted some new material on my website (the front page of which is in the limbo of redesign/software failure) - some scenes I've developed for The Flowershop Project's collaboration with Project 515 about civil rights for gay couples in Minnesota, one scene of which is being performed at Gay Pride on Sunday, the full singing/dancing/acting extravaganza will be on the Patrick's Cabaret stage in the fall.
A marketing/development meeting for the Samurai last night.
And the ongoing prep for blogging about this year's Minnesota Fringe Festival
However, since I have a meeting scheduled with director Matt Greseth on "Leave" for July 1, I'd best have some actual progress on the script to share.
So, enough blogging.
Time to actually start writing a play again.
Next week, a blog about actual rewrites. That's the goal anyway.
I saw and wrote reviews for the Twin Cities Daily Planet on "Le Squat" (Friday), "Baby With The Bathwater" (Saturday), and "The Mystery of Irma Vep" (Tuesday).
Worked the full-time day job the usual Monday through Friday, plus shifts at the Guthrie box office on Saturday and Sunday.
Started a project on my family to share with my goddaughter Ursula (we'll all feel more like sharing if we agree it's for a 1 year old).
Posted some new material on my website (the front page of which is in the limbo of redesign/software failure) - some scenes I've developed for The Flowershop Project's collaboration with Project 515 about civil rights for gay couples in Minnesota, one scene of which is being performed at Gay Pride on Sunday, the full singing/dancing/acting extravaganza will be on the Patrick's Cabaret stage in the fall.
A marketing/development meeting for the Samurai last night.
And the ongoing prep for blogging about this year's Minnesota Fringe Festival
However, since I have a meeting scheduled with director Matt Greseth on "Leave" for July 1, I'd best have some actual progress on the script to share.
So, enough blogging.
Time to actually start writing a play again.
Next week, a blog about actual rewrites. That's the goal anyway.
Saturday, June 19, 2010
A great first read...
I was bored at work today and decided to NOT work. Instead I read our play kicking of next season "Leave". Man, is it great already. I say already because if you have been reading this blog you know Our own Thursday Samurai has been hard at work adding and cutting and making this play even more stellar than it already is. If this keeps up we are going to have a mighty fine kick off to next season indeed!!!
Speaking of seasons, has anyone else announced theirs? I'm super curious to know what everyone else is excited for in the coming year. Other than our own stuff, I'm extremely excited to see "Next To Normal" when it comes through town.
SO!! Start commenting and tell me what you all want to see next year. I'm making it a personal goal to try and see at least one show a month. I need suggestions people :)
Speaking of seasons, has anyone else announced theirs? I'm super curious to know what everyone else is excited for in the coming year. Other than our own stuff, I'm extremely excited to see "Next To Normal" when it comes through town.
SO!! Start commenting and tell me what you all want to see next year. I'm making it a personal goal to try and see at least one show a month. I need suggestions people :)
Thursday, June 17, 2010
The Beginning Is The End, The End Is The Beginning
Used to be I didn’t worry about the beginning of the play “Leave” too much. But both directors who’ve looked at recently had the same reaction. “When is this first scene taking place?”
That would be this scene.
A woman is visiting the grave of a young man. Which young man, we don’t know yet.
We also don’t know, right at the top, who this woman is, or how important she’ll be to the way things play out in the story.
I’d always thought it didn’t much matter when exactly the scene took place. I just assumed it was sometime in the near future, after the funeral that filled the grave.
That was lazy of me.
Not only was it vague, and subject to misinterpretation, it was a missed opportunity.
The instinct both of the directors had was to try and tie the scene to the narrative of the rest of the play. Which makes perfect sense.
One director suggested that maybe it literally be set right after the last scene of the play, a continuation of the funeral scene with everyone visiting the grave. We don’t want to give away the occupant of the grave, but we don’t have to in order to tie the two scenes together. At the end of the play, usefully enough, that same female character, Anne, is left alone for a moment at the grave by the other characters. She’s the last to leave. In fact, we don’t see her leave. She waits there by the grave, a moment to herself. The fallen soldier’s ghost is standing there with her. She doesn’t see or hear him, but he interacts with her, and the audience sees this. So at the end, Anne isn’t really alone.
Anne’s last lines as she stands at the grave at the end of the play (right now) are, “I’m sorry. Watch over my boy.” She’s speaking to the spirit she hopes, but doesn’t know, is present. She regrets she was unable to save him, and asks him to serve as a guardian angel for others still in combat.
The director thought maybe we could see the last person leaving Anne to her moment of solitude, walking away in his funeral garb. Thinking it over, I was worried someone just walking away might look like a mistake.
OK, what’s his last line before he goes? “You coming?”
To which Anne replies, “In a minute.”
He goes, she stands by the grave and says her last lines.
That works. Any way to push it back further? “You coming?” seems almost as weird a first line as starting a play in silence.
Then I realized if you just remove the ghost and his lines from that scene, the last page of the play is two people standing by a grave, with occasional silences for contemplation.
At the end of the play, the audience gets to look behind the veil, because they know the ghost for who he is. They feel the same loss the characters do. They get to watch him reach out to the others one last time, and try to say his goodbyes.
If we see the same moments at the beginning, sans ghost, we just know someone’s gone, something’s missing, and we get to spend time with a couple of characters trying to find that something in silence.
A moment’s pause with two people by a grave. Then, the guy by the grave says...
“Damn your heroic ass.”
Pause. He starts to leave, turns back to Anne.
“You coming?”
“In a minute.”
He goes. She says,
“I’m sorry. Watch over my boy.”
She could be talking to God just as easily as trying to make contact with the person who’s dead.
Then Anne launches into the speech at the beginning of the play.
I still need to finesse the transition into the material. The original beginning is a bit presentational, almost a direct address to the audience as much as a cry to heaven. Coming off an actual moment between two characters, it might be bumpy shift.
But the idea is kind of perfect. We get to see the same moment opened up with a new element at the end, when we can fully appreciate its impact.
And the play becomes a circle. The cycle continues. That can be both good and bad. War continues. People keep dying. But other people keep surviving, and manage to stay together. Mixed blessings. The things you lose help you appreciate and hold tighter to the things you have left. And if you still have something to lose, you have a reason to fight for change.
Toe in the water now. On with the rewrites of the rest of the play.
(This new version of "Leave, or The Surface of the World" will kick off Urban Samurai Productions' 2011 season in February.)
That would be this scene.
A woman is visiting the grave of a young man. Which young man, we don’t know yet.
We also don’t know, right at the top, who this woman is, or how important she’ll be to the way things play out in the story.
I’d always thought it didn’t much matter when exactly the scene took place. I just assumed it was sometime in the near future, after the funeral that filled the grave.
That was lazy of me.
Not only was it vague, and subject to misinterpretation, it was a missed opportunity.
The instinct both of the directors had was to try and tie the scene to the narrative of the rest of the play. Which makes perfect sense.
One director suggested that maybe it literally be set right after the last scene of the play, a continuation of the funeral scene with everyone visiting the grave. We don’t want to give away the occupant of the grave, but we don’t have to in order to tie the two scenes together. At the end of the play, usefully enough, that same female character, Anne, is left alone for a moment at the grave by the other characters. She’s the last to leave. In fact, we don’t see her leave. She waits there by the grave, a moment to herself. The fallen soldier’s ghost is standing there with her. She doesn’t see or hear him, but he interacts with her, and the audience sees this. So at the end, Anne isn’t really alone.
Anne’s last lines as she stands at the grave at the end of the play (right now) are, “I’m sorry. Watch over my boy.” She’s speaking to the spirit she hopes, but doesn’t know, is present. She regrets she was unable to save him, and asks him to serve as a guardian angel for others still in combat.
The director thought maybe we could see the last person leaving Anne to her moment of solitude, walking away in his funeral garb. Thinking it over, I was worried someone just walking away might look like a mistake.
OK, what’s his last line before he goes? “You coming?”
To which Anne replies, “In a minute.”
He goes, she stands by the grave and says her last lines.
That works. Any way to push it back further? “You coming?” seems almost as weird a first line as starting a play in silence.
Then I realized if you just remove the ghost and his lines from that scene, the last page of the play is two people standing by a grave, with occasional silences for contemplation.
At the end of the play, the audience gets to look behind the veil, because they know the ghost for who he is. They feel the same loss the characters do. They get to watch him reach out to the others one last time, and try to say his goodbyes.
If we see the same moments at the beginning, sans ghost, we just know someone’s gone, something’s missing, and we get to spend time with a couple of characters trying to find that something in silence.
A moment’s pause with two people by a grave. Then, the guy by the grave says...
“Damn your heroic ass.”
Pause. He starts to leave, turns back to Anne.
“You coming?”
“In a minute.”
He goes. She says,
“I’m sorry. Watch over my boy.”
She could be talking to God just as easily as trying to make contact with the person who’s dead.
Then Anne launches into the speech at the beginning of the play.
I still need to finesse the transition into the material. The original beginning is a bit presentational, almost a direct address to the audience as much as a cry to heaven. Coming off an actual moment between two characters, it might be bumpy shift.
But the idea is kind of perfect. We get to see the same moment opened up with a new element at the end, when we can fully appreciate its impact.
And the play becomes a circle. The cycle continues. That can be both good and bad. War continues. People keep dying. But other people keep surviving, and manage to stay together. Mixed blessings. The things you lose help you appreciate and hold tighter to the things you have left. And if you still have something to lose, you have a reason to fight for change.
Toe in the water now. On with the rewrites of the rest of the play.
(This new version of "Leave, or The Surface of the World" will kick off Urban Samurai Productions' 2011 season in February.)
Monday, June 14, 2010
That's right, deal with it.
I'm back. I was gone, but now I've returned, and you're just gonna have to live with it. And I know deep down you are relieved, that you missed me, that you were wondering after my well being. Well you can rest easy, friend, I'm here.
Where did I go? It's a long and interesting tale. Actually not at all. I simply got so focused on performing Bright Ideas that I forgot that Sunday is the day I'm supposed to blog. And once I was out of the habit, well... you get the picture.
But I'm back to talk about something very important, something that you may previously been unaware of. Wait for it.
Wait...
Aaron Sorkin lies.
Yes, that's right. The playwright of A Few Good Men is deceiving you all. And he is very cunning with his half truths. Indeed, the cast of A Few Good Men is really almost entirely men. With a singular exception. So even the men part is not 100% accurate.
However, it's the FEW that I take issue with. Ladies and Gentlemen of the jury, this bitch of a show has a cast of thousands, or so it seems looking at it from the pay-roll end of things. Or from costumes. Or casting, though Matt could speak to that better than I. And this lie is so very blatant.
A. Few. Good. Men. That is the title of the play, Ladies and Gentlemen. The promise of the playwright to his unsuspecting audience. And then he proceeds to revel in his deceits by producing not just a few good men, but a shit ton of them, I'm not even kidding.
His only possible redemption would be if he were implying that of all the testosterone on the stage, only a few of them were actually GOOD. Then I could be satisfied, and would happily retract all previous accusations and abuses of character.
In closing, Ladies and Gentlemen, I would like to say that none of this means anything, that I am not, in point of fact, angry with the playwright in any way, and am writing this entire diatribe in courtroom fashion, because, well, what we have here is a courtroom drama.
And if any of you want to pony up the paycheck for any of these 'few' good men, drop me a line.
Saturday, June 12, 2010
well it really isn't friday
hello all. in my mind it's friday. but in reality it's saturday. i have been scrambling the last two weeks to get all my time in at work. why would i scramble you ask? well, reason being, that i am heading out to vegas vegas vegas later this afternoon, and need to get all my work done, as the pay period ends whilst i'm away winning money and laying by the pool.
my project these last couple weeks have continued to be organizing the costume 'cage,' if you will. so far so good, although, i think there is far too much crap around. you see, i'm not what you would call a hoarder, or keeper of the memory makers. i like my life around me to be as simple as possible, and find that if i really haven't noticed something in, oh let's say a year or two, i really don't need to hold onto something. now don't get me wrong, i'm not that cold hearted. i do keep some important stuff, like things from my grandparents, and other what nots. but going through this costume cage is like taking the delorean back to the past. everything is extremely outdated, almost to the point of having to ask, will this really, really be used again, ever? my answer would be no. but if i were in charge, which i kind of am, the reasonable side would kick in and state, that you really never know.
therefore, i will just continue to organize and label until it is all put away in a neat and organized system...alphabetically of course. (not the actual costumes, just the prop costumes like animal headbands, scarves, and yarmulkes.)
ta ta for now, and if you haven't heard from me in awhile, i'm probably lost in the dust of the crap that is considered valuable to some...
my project these last couple weeks have continued to be organizing the costume 'cage,' if you will. so far so good, although, i think there is far too much crap around. you see, i'm not what you would call a hoarder, or keeper of the memory makers. i like my life around me to be as simple as possible, and find that if i really haven't noticed something in, oh let's say a year or two, i really don't need to hold onto something. now don't get me wrong, i'm not that cold hearted. i do keep some important stuff, like things from my grandparents, and other what nots. but going through this costume cage is like taking the delorean back to the past. everything is extremely outdated, almost to the point of having to ask, will this really, really be used again, ever? my answer would be no. but if i were in charge, which i kind of am, the reasonable side would kick in and state, that you really never know.
therefore, i will just continue to organize and label until it is all put away in a neat and organized system...alphabetically of course. (not the actual costumes, just the prop costumes like animal headbands, scarves, and yarmulkes.)
ta ta for now, and if you haven't heard from me in awhile, i'm probably lost in the dust of the crap that is considered valuable to some...
Tuesday, June 8, 2010
Tuesday Samurai - A Few Good Predicaments
OK, let's be straight. I really only have one predicament to discuss, but the title of this post wouldn't have been as fun if I couldn't loop in the title of our next production.
If I were to be bold, I would say the introductions I wrote of each Bright Ideas cast member leading up to the production's opening were a success. But A Few Good Men has a much larger cast. Which means I would have to start now in order to get through everyone before we open on September 24th.
So I'll come up with some other way of introducing you to the cast. If you have any fantastic ideas, feel free to get in touch with me. Until then, I am so excited about A Few Good Men and the three shows we've selected for 2011, that I almost can't stand it.
I'll be back next week recharged and ready to gab.
Ryan Grimes
Managing Director
Urban Samurai Productions
If I were to be bold, I would say the introductions I wrote of each Bright Ideas cast member leading up to the production's opening were a success. But A Few Good Men has a much larger cast. Which means I would have to start now in order to get through everyone before we open on September 24th.
So I'll come up with some other way of introducing you to the cast. If you have any fantastic ideas, feel free to get in touch with me. Until then, I am so excited about A Few Good Men and the three shows we've selected for 2011, that I almost can't stand it.
I'll be back next week recharged and ready to gab.
Ryan Grimes
Managing Director
Urban Samurai Productions
Friday, June 4, 2010
It's Friday!!
At this point, being a few weeks out from doing any shows, I feel completely relaxed. I have been sleeping better at night and notice that my brain is far less scattered than usual. Although I haven't been doing shows per say, I have still been working my day job in a theatre. My mission; to finish cleaning up somebody else's mess. A year ago I did an overhaul of the prop room. What a mess that was. It was to the point that you couldn't even walk in the room. Now, everything is neatly put away in its own place, and documented exactly where it is in the room. A bit psychotic? Perhaps, but at least I know exactly what is in the room and how many items.
Now it's on to the costume cage. I have already gone through the daunting task of sorting through it all. Again, you can actually walk inside the room without tripping over everything. I had a "garage sale" of sorts and got rid of many bags of unusable "costumes." The remaining items are categorized as well as can be, and soon it will be a workable space.
My one question with going through the costumes is this: Why do people insist on putting everything 70's and 80's in a costume closet? And then keeping them for years? How often do companies actually put up a show that consists of the aforementioned costumes?
Ok, that's actually 4 questions. But you get my point. It's a lot of useless stuff to keep around, when all the costumer does is run to Savers and purchase new items. If it was up to me...everything would go and we would start anew.
But it is not, so I will just continue to make sense of a rather messy situation.
Now it's on to the costume cage. I have already gone through the daunting task of sorting through it all. Again, you can actually walk inside the room without tripping over everything. I had a "garage sale" of sorts and got rid of many bags of unusable "costumes." The remaining items are categorized as well as can be, and soon it will be a workable space.
My one question with going through the costumes is this: Why do people insist on putting everything 70's and 80's in a costume closet? And then keeping them for years? How often do companies actually put up a show that consists of the aforementioned costumes?
Ok, that's actually 4 questions. But you get my point. It's a lot of useless stuff to keep around, when all the costumer does is run to Savers and purchase new items. If it was up to me...everything would go and we would start anew.
But it is not, so I will just continue to make sense of a rather messy situation.
Thursday, June 3, 2010
What's A Minnesota Playwright Doing In Omaha?
I’ve been a very lax blogger. Apologies.
Currently, I’m down in Omaha, NE at the Great Plains Theatre Conference.
Freudian slip, I first typed “I’m done in Omaha” - which, depending on the day you caught me this week, wasn’t that far from the truth.
I comfort myself with remembrance of past blogs on the road from my pal Phillip Andrew Bennett Low when he was making his way around the country on the Fringe Festival circuit. I recall his remarks on how hard it can be to drum up an audience with a bunch of strangers. It takes a couple of years of coming back and coming back before people remember who you are. Loyalties don’t crop up overnight. And audiences aren’t all like they are in Minnesota. They feel no obligation (or interest) to come and see theater just because it’s there and it’s different and it’s something they haven’t had a chance to see before. The existence of something new in particular doesn’t excite them. There needs to be some other reason to go.
Plus if you’re a newbie, and your reading’s at 9am on a Monday morning, and a large chunk of the people you actually managed starting to get to know were out until 2:30 the night before getting drunk, well... let’s just say turnout for the reading of my play “Leave” was pretty slim.
The official attendance slip they handed me at the end, along with my two sheets of audience feedback, said 20 people. But let’s break that down, shall we? 6 of them were my cast, 2 of them were the designated responders from the conference (thank God for the designated responders at each reading or the authors wouldn’t be guaranteed any useful feedback), 1 was me, 4 were the tech crew (one of whom, god bless him, after two full days of readings and events, nodded off in a chair down the row from me - at least his labored breathing didn’t become a full-on snore, and he did wake up for the second half), 1 was I think a combination of a person who came for the first part but had to leave plus a person who sidled in toward the end reading her cell phone and sat in the back. So I actually had six audience members. 2 of whom were the parents of one of the actors, 1 of whom was a friend of the director, 1 of whom was a friend of another of the actors. So, of the community of playwrights at the conference, a whopping two showed up. Two that I’m very grateful to, and shall chat with the rest of the week, and whose readings I made sure to attend.
It’s been a good exercise in networking for me. Forcing myself to sit down with complete strangers at every meal and talk to them. Engaging them in workshops and on the fly between the various readings we’ve been attending. And I sat through readings during every slot they had one in the days preceding my own. So it wasn’t for lack of trying. But visibility takes longer to blossom in a foreign environment.
Still, it’s disheartening to go through a poorly attended reading of my own, then sit through two other readings later in the day that two to three times as many people in attendance, with the audience feedback flying through the air and enthusiasm very high.
I withdrew the day after my reading to work on a project I had a deadline for. I called home. I seriously considered leaving. But then I thought, no, I’ve already taken the time off, I’ve already driven down here, and it’s good to get away from the distractions of home and really be forced to focus on the writing, and trying to be a better writer. So I spent the day and the night Tuesday working on projects that forwarded my own writing. I took a break for lunch, since they feed us, and the lunch panel - with two men discussing their work in Africa, using theater to awaken community and promote healing after trauma. Then I plugged back into the community fully yesterday - another workshop, another reading, another evening of new theater being performed.
Even the disappointment is good because it makes me appreciate Minnesota so much more than I already did, which was quite a lot to begin with.
It makes me look forward to another major sit down with director Matt Greseth, to discuss the “Leave” script, like we did before I left for the conference - a talk I’m still processing all the notes from, but has given me a great source of inspiration with which to attack the rewrites.
And the workshops here have been helpful. And it has been good to see other plays, and types of playwriting. There are two plays in particular that really excited me, and that doesn’t happen often. Check out St. Fortune Productions - stfortuneproductions.com - and they’re also on facebook. John Gasper’s play “Strychnine” and Jack Frederick’s play “I Wouldn’t Piss Down Your Throat If Your Lungs Were On Fire” are amazing pieces of work. And the St. Fortune ensemble came down en masse from their base in Rochester, NY to support those readings and give the community here a real youth injection. It’s a good week to be one of the St. Fortune crowd. Great readings, good crowds, both well-deserved. But since I’m more than twice the age of either of those playwrights, I’m feeling more than a little old this week. Inspired, but old. Perhaps just a wee bit irrelevant, but I have to fight that.
Especially since everybody thinks “don’t ask, don’t tell” was magically solved just because it was in the news for a few days last week. I wish. It passed the House, but the Senate still has to vote on repeal “sometime this summer.” Then even if it passes as part of the defense spending bill, there are things in it the head of defense doesn’t like, and thinks are unnecessary expenditures. So he may ask the President to veto the bill, and back we go to the drawing board again. In addition, even it if clears all those hurdles, it’s not going into effect until the Pentagon finishes its survey of active duty military personnel, to see how they feel about lifting the ban. The hope is that this survey confirms that the time is right to make the change. But nothing’s certain. The Democrats are only trying to ram it through the legislature early (before the Pentagon finished their survey) because they don’t think they’ll have the votes to do it after the November elections.
It’s been a long time I’ve been waiting for this script of “Leave” to be a period piece. But it ain’t there yet. Will “don’t ask, don’t tell” be history by the February 2011 production of “Leave” by Urban Samurai? That would be a problem I’d love to have.
Well, that, and more than six people in the audience.
Currently, I’m down in Omaha, NE at the Great Plains Theatre Conference.
Freudian slip, I first typed “I’m done in Omaha” - which, depending on the day you caught me this week, wasn’t that far from the truth.
I comfort myself with remembrance of past blogs on the road from my pal Phillip Andrew Bennett Low when he was making his way around the country on the Fringe Festival circuit. I recall his remarks on how hard it can be to drum up an audience with a bunch of strangers. It takes a couple of years of coming back and coming back before people remember who you are. Loyalties don’t crop up overnight. And audiences aren’t all like they are in Minnesota. They feel no obligation (or interest) to come and see theater just because it’s there and it’s different and it’s something they haven’t had a chance to see before. The existence of something new in particular doesn’t excite them. There needs to be some other reason to go.
Plus if you’re a newbie, and your reading’s at 9am on a Monday morning, and a large chunk of the people you actually managed starting to get to know were out until 2:30 the night before getting drunk, well... let’s just say turnout for the reading of my play “Leave” was pretty slim.
The official attendance slip they handed me at the end, along with my two sheets of audience feedback, said 20 people. But let’s break that down, shall we? 6 of them were my cast, 2 of them were the designated responders from the conference (thank God for the designated responders at each reading or the authors wouldn’t be guaranteed any useful feedback), 1 was me, 4 were the tech crew (one of whom, god bless him, after two full days of readings and events, nodded off in a chair down the row from me - at least his labored breathing didn’t become a full-on snore, and he did wake up for the second half), 1 was I think a combination of a person who came for the first part but had to leave plus a person who sidled in toward the end reading her cell phone and sat in the back. So I actually had six audience members. 2 of whom were the parents of one of the actors, 1 of whom was a friend of the director, 1 of whom was a friend of another of the actors. So, of the community of playwrights at the conference, a whopping two showed up. Two that I’m very grateful to, and shall chat with the rest of the week, and whose readings I made sure to attend.
It’s been a good exercise in networking for me. Forcing myself to sit down with complete strangers at every meal and talk to them. Engaging them in workshops and on the fly between the various readings we’ve been attending. And I sat through readings during every slot they had one in the days preceding my own. So it wasn’t for lack of trying. But visibility takes longer to blossom in a foreign environment.
Still, it’s disheartening to go through a poorly attended reading of my own, then sit through two other readings later in the day that two to three times as many people in attendance, with the audience feedback flying through the air and enthusiasm very high.
I withdrew the day after my reading to work on a project I had a deadline for. I called home. I seriously considered leaving. But then I thought, no, I’ve already taken the time off, I’ve already driven down here, and it’s good to get away from the distractions of home and really be forced to focus on the writing, and trying to be a better writer. So I spent the day and the night Tuesday working on projects that forwarded my own writing. I took a break for lunch, since they feed us, and the lunch panel - with two men discussing their work in Africa, using theater to awaken community and promote healing after trauma. Then I plugged back into the community fully yesterday - another workshop, another reading, another evening of new theater being performed.
Even the disappointment is good because it makes me appreciate Minnesota so much more than I already did, which was quite a lot to begin with.
It makes me look forward to another major sit down with director Matt Greseth, to discuss the “Leave” script, like we did before I left for the conference - a talk I’m still processing all the notes from, but has given me a great source of inspiration with which to attack the rewrites.
And the workshops here have been helpful. And it has been good to see other plays, and types of playwriting. There are two plays in particular that really excited me, and that doesn’t happen often. Check out St. Fortune Productions - stfortuneproductions.com - and they’re also on facebook. John Gasper’s play “Strychnine” and Jack Frederick’s play “I Wouldn’t Piss Down Your Throat If Your Lungs Were On Fire” are amazing pieces of work. And the St. Fortune ensemble came down en masse from their base in Rochester, NY to support those readings and give the community here a real youth injection. It’s a good week to be one of the St. Fortune crowd. Great readings, good crowds, both well-deserved. But since I’m more than twice the age of either of those playwrights, I’m feeling more than a little old this week. Inspired, but old. Perhaps just a wee bit irrelevant, but I have to fight that.
Especially since everybody thinks “don’t ask, don’t tell” was magically solved just because it was in the news for a few days last week. I wish. It passed the House, but the Senate still has to vote on repeal “sometime this summer.” Then even if it passes as part of the defense spending bill, there are things in it the head of defense doesn’t like, and thinks are unnecessary expenditures. So he may ask the President to veto the bill, and back we go to the drawing board again. In addition, even it if clears all those hurdles, it’s not going into effect until the Pentagon finishes its survey of active duty military personnel, to see how they feel about lifting the ban. The hope is that this survey confirms that the time is right to make the change. But nothing’s certain. The Democrats are only trying to ram it through the legislature early (before the Pentagon finished their survey) because they don’t think they’ll have the votes to do it after the November elections.
It’s been a long time I’ve been waiting for this script of “Leave” to be a period piece. But it ain’t there yet. Will “don’t ask, don’t tell” be history by the February 2011 production of “Leave” by Urban Samurai? That would be a problem I’d love to have.
Well, that, and more than six people in the audience.
Wednesday, June 2, 2010
Tuesday Samurai - I Still Think It's Tuesday
I have a sad confession to make. I have no idea what day it is. I literally thought yesterday was Monday and today was Tuesday. And it's been happening to me all week! At work today someone mentioned a meeting that occurs every Wednesday and my reaction was, "That's today?" So even though I've been reminded what day it actually is all day, I still sat down to write the Tuesday Samurai on my night off...which is always Wednesday.
What is my point? As usual, it's hard to tell in the beginning. But this week it's simple: I'm a moron.
And you know what? I'm going to embrace being a moron today. Maybe it will make me famous. As summer has unofficially began, I've been noticing all the advertisements for television's "summer season", which has traditionally been lighter fare. That's all well and good, I guess, but every summer I feel like there are even more reality-based shows. I say "based" because they aren't reality shows to me. A good reality show is something that requires talent, like Dancing With the Stars or Top Chef. What I have no interest in is what the Kardashian girls are up to today. Why do I even know who these people are? They are famous for absolutely no reason.
So, I'm going to give myself the day to do something stupid, none of which I'm being paid to put on camera, and tomorrow I'm going to wake up fresh and ready to embrace the fact that it's Thursday, not Wednesday.
My goal for the summer? Turn off the TV and see more theater. I encourage you all to do the same.
Perhaps I'll actually blog on the right day next week...
Ryan Grimes
Managing Director
Urban Samurai Productions
What is my point? As usual, it's hard to tell in the beginning. But this week it's simple: I'm a moron.
And you know what? I'm going to embrace being a moron today. Maybe it will make me famous. As summer has unofficially began, I've been noticing all the advertisements for television's "summer season", which has traditionally been lighter fare. That's all well and good, I guess, but every summer I feel like there are even more reality-based shows. I say "based" because they aren't reality shows to me. A good reality show is something that requires talent, like Dancing With the Stars or Top Chef. What I have no interest in is what the Kardashian girls are up to today. Why do I even know who these people are? They are famous for absolutely no reason.
So, I'm going to give myself the day to do something stupid, none of which I'm being paid to put on camera, and tomorrow I'm going to wake up fresh and ready to embrace the fact that it's Thursday, not Wednesday.
My goal for the summer? Turn off the TV and see more theater. I encourage you all to do the same.
Perhaps I'll actually blog on the right day next week...
Ryan Grimes
Managing Director
Urban Samurai Productions
Theater: A Summary
Well, USP has closed another great show. And as we sharpen our theatrical katanas for our next production it is also a time to look back on our past endeavors for insight and wisdom to carry us into the future. In other words now is the time to reflect on the times that we've been super rockstar ninjafied awesome and also the times when we've violently spewed donkey ass all over the walls.
The challenge with running a small independent theater company, like many things, is that in order to be awesome you first have to spew a lot donkey rectum. And the more you achieve the more there invariably is to do. And then you have to learn how do that which almost always involves blowing more mule sphincter. So really its a vicious cycle of flying burro bunghole.
However, in the end when you see the final creation on stage and the joy or the tears on the audience's faces, when you look at the life long relationships that have been forged because of what you do, and look back at just how much you've made it through. It lifts you up, it inspires you to to push on, through the breech, through the countless mounds of ass anus. And that's really what being in theater is all about fighting through a whole lot of ugly to make something beautiful and meaningful.
The challenge with running a small independent theater company, like many things, is that in order to be awesome you first have to spew a lot donkey rectum. And the more you achieve the more there invariably is to do. And then you have to learn how do that which almost always involves blowing more mule sphincter. So really its a vicious cycle of flying burro bunghole.
However, in the end when you see the final creation on stage and the joy or the tears on the audience's faces, when you look at the life long relationships that have been forged because of what you do, and look back at just how much you've made it through. It lifts you up, it inspires you to to push on, through the breech, through the countless mounds of ass anus. And that's really what being in theater is all about fighting through a whole lot of ugly to make something beautiful and meaningful.
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