The day of a show usually goes like this:
Wake up, the first few seconds are normal, and then there is a sudden, sharp realization: I am performing tonight!
Excitement is followed by extreme panic.
For the next two minutes I wonder if it's too late to leave the country.
It is.
And then I remember: I love doing this. No, love doesn't cover it. I am obsessed with it. If someone said:
Here's a theatre, but you can't leave it for the rest of your life, you have to be here every day, and for many days in a row you might not see the light of day, but you will create theatre with integrity, love, and purpose; I would say,
Lock me up. Tie me down. There is nothing else I'd rather do with my life. I have been doing this since I was four years old; performing, creating shows, making other people do what I want, making other people watch what I've created, and seeking, always seeking, an opportunity to bring a character to life. I am not a story-teller, I am a story-liver (as in, life liver, not body organ liver). Even when I tell my cousin's daughters a story, I do it as if I were acting out a play, taking on the character's voices and acting out all the actions. I usually end up a sweaty mess and, if the intention was ever to put the child to sleep, I fail at it miserably. They are as wound up as ever by the time I am done, because I am most alive when I am acting, and life is contagious. They love it. They need it. We all do. We all need stories to be lived in front of us; we ache for that exposure of the human heart.
Tonight the play I directed opens. How is directing different than performing? Multiply the above experiences by a thousand. And then put on the pressure to be the one who is calm, in control, patient, and knowledgeable.
WEIGHT was written by my soul sister, Kerri Campbell Evans. She showed it to me one day, and I had a vision. We looked at each other, and it was done: I'd be directing WEIGHT.
I have directed things here and there since I was a child; it's easy for me because, as my brother and cousins can attest, I like telling people what to do. But I have hesitated to call myself a director. I am so madly in love with being on stage, with communicating a character's soul to a live audience, that I often wonder if directing can be as fulfilling.
What I've learned is that it's fulfilling in an entirely different way. This play was important to me; I fell in love with the characters and felt a need to tell their stories. I saw my role: I would be the one creating the environment for my actors to bring their characters to life. I would give them what they needed, whether they knew that they needed it or not, in order to rise to their character's worlds.
In this life of odd day jobs here and there, I discovered two jobs outside of the theatrical business that I was suited for: teaching and tour guiding. So it made sense that I would fit right into my director's chair. I see the potential in people and then I make it my mission to guide them towards it. Because I know first-hand what that "a-ha!" moment feels like for an actor- the moment when the character clicks, when you understand something that could only be understood by living through it, when you feel with absolute certainty that there is a force much higher than yourself that takes you to this place of raw truth- because I know that
this is what we live for, I have found it incredibly fulfilling to be part of the process that takes them there.
I am a mother tonight, watching my baby take its first step, speak its first word, and look out into the world for the first time, knowing that it is theirs.
I am so proud of my girls, and I am so excited to see our play, which we rehearsed in living rooms and pieced together bit by bit over the course of four months, being given to others tonight. That is the final step- giving the creation over. No matter how many times I do this, I will always feel the butterflies in my stomach. Like the early stages of falling in love, I cannot help but let excitement clash with nervousness, and hope that my heart's desire to love will be met with another open, willing heart.
Send your positive energy to our beautiful play and, if you're around, come support our magical journey.
WEIGHT opens tonight at the Strawberry One-Act Festival.
Hudson Guild Theater
441 W. 26th St. (btw 9th and 10th aves)
7:00pm
