TEam Work

from Christa Kimlicko Jones, Associate Artistic Director, Director of Programming: 

We have begun the creative discussions. Last week we held our first production meeting for our fall shows NORMALCY and THE JUNGLE BOOK. What’s most exciting about this season is the challenge of discussing two productions at once that need to work together. It is a lot to take on in a short, 3-hour meeting, but because of the team that we have, we all left inspired and ready for the next steps. 

 

First production meetings are so much about coming to the table with initial ideas and problem solving. Everyone has been doing work on their own and the time has come to begin to put it together—to collaborate, to really work as a team. I’m always amazed to see what the various departments have been working on. In many ways it’s the same excitement we, as school children, felt on Show-and-Tell days. It’s a lot of oohs and ahhs. Set, lighting, costumes, sound and music—all these incredible folks gathered in a room presenting their ideas, supporting the director’s vision...and the production manager making sure it all stays within budget. 

 

It was a great beginning, resulting in very workable and exciting ideas. We all left inspired and ready for more! Go TEam! 

 

You can also be a part of the TEam and help make these productions happen.  DONATE TODAY  to Theatre East!

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Meltdown on the Mountain

Meltdown on the Mountain—It’s the getting back up that counts (with a little help from our friends).

from Christa Kimlicko Jones, Associate Artistic Director, Director of Programming: 

Building a theatre company isn’t easy.  There are many long roads, hurdles, and often mountains to climb. There are fears and doubts. There are big leaps. There are setbacks. Sometimes it even seems that it would make more sense to just not do it. It would be easier, safer, simpler. But, then, miraculously we get back up. We leap. We dive. We push through. Somehow we find strength in each other, in our dreams—and in you, our supporters. Not really sure how exactly it happens, but it does—and we thank you for it.

This past week, I went skiing for the first time EVER. And, needless to say, it proved to be more than just a skiing trip. I think I discovered myself and perhaps even conquered myself up on that stupid not-so-easy "Easy Street" course—with a little help from my friends. The leading up to it was fine, I guess. I would mention what I was doing for Spring Break, look around with saucer eyes for any sort of insight (people didn't realize that I was really looking for magical ANSWERS!) and mostly it was the same: people giving me advice, saying "you’ll be fine!" and telling me "just keep your skis in 'pizza.'" Telling me what boots or pants or jacket I needed. And of course I just said, "Okay!" because really, I had no idea about any of it. I had no context (except what I've seen on TV, and those people aren't doing 'pizza,' I don’t think. These "bits of advice," however, could IN NO WAY prepare me for what I was about to do. I suppose "keep it in pizza" was something I used the most! But, seriously, folks—almost 40 and first time skiing?? This brain and body are a bit different than my 5-year-old nephew who literally got to the top of the mountain and just went. No pausing. No questions. He just went. And survived. And went back for more. There is a lesson in that, I’m sure!  But, my journey was a bit more…um… involved.

So, first things first, I got my outfit—I looked like I knew what I was doing (that’s half the battle, right?!). The next morning, we started our road trip to Vermont. We got to the lodge after our gorgeous drive and met up with family. We were staying in the Trapp Family Lodges in Stowe, VT. Over dinner, there was discussion about the snow and the slopes and "Stay on the bunny..." "Okay," I said. Next morning—got dressed, good breakfast, and off we went! Another gorgeous, peaceful drive to the slopes. After getting all set up and looking around I thought, "I can do this!" Then off to lessons. We started slowly. Scooting along, learning about weight, etc. We learned how to get on the lift (much appreciated!), and then got to the top of the bunny slope. I honestly don’t remember my first time down. I was just following. Just trying to stay up. And I was doing great! We did this several more times until the class was over. Success!! I was able to do this! I only fell a couple of times (trying not to run into children—a very smart objective, I thought!). But I was good! We then had lunch, and back to the 1pm lesson: Intro to Turning. We graduated to "Easy Street." However, Easy Street wasn’t so easy. Anyway, it was fine, really—at first. With my class, I was able to follow my teacher and my other classmates. I fell mostly every time going down, but I learned how to get up. In fact, I got really good at that. (Maybe that’s the moral to the story, really?!) Up and down. Falling, yes, but getting back up! Had a great afternoon, evening of rest—muscles very sore. Jud said that I’d probably wake up tomorrow and think, "I don’t want to go, I’m too sore" (he was right), but, "getting up and going is key!"

Next morning, VERY sore. Could hardly walk. But, was determined to push through. Stretched out. Got dressed. Good breakfast. Nice drive there, but this day…this day was different. I had a feeling in my stomach. Of dread. The day before, I knew nothing. But today, today I knew what was about to happen. And I, in no way, trusted myself. But, on we went. ‘Easy Street’, here we come! Lift was good. I was a pro at this! Got to the top--the top of the mountain that I had skied many times the day before. Turned the corner, looked down. And FROZE. My legs had no idea of what to do. People zooming past but I froze. And then I started crying. The meltdown on the mountain had begun. I tried to move, scooted a bit. But just couldn't go. Or let go. Isn't interesting how just a little bit of knowledge will keep you stuck in one place? Anyway, I tried to follow Jud, but just couldn’t go. I cried, I yelled at him for bringing me up there, I started scooting down on my bottom—but that wasn't really working. The people on the lifts got a lift and a show! And I didn't care. I was going to die on that mountain (it was a very dramatic moment). I had to keep taking my goggles off because they were fogging up from crying. I tried getting up and kept falling over and then no energy to get back up because I was crying—I mean, sobbing. It was quite a sight, I'm sure. Jud standing there, all the while, trying to give me pointers. I certainly didn't want to listen. But he stayed. And then, after probably 20 minutes or so of this, I'm not sure what happened—something in me?  Something in the fact that he was still there?  Something in the knowledge that I had to get down? Something in the knowledge that I did it just the day before? I don't know. But I stood up, had a moment with myself, looked straight ahead, and went forward a bit. I stopped. Then turned a bit, went the other way. The next thing I knew I was traversing down the mountain—slowly, but I was going. Bit by bit, and then somehow, I was down the mountain. It wasn't like I just said "Okay…GO…" and I was down, which may be the way for some. For me, it was slowly, bit by bit. And the most bizarre thing—when I got down, I had the thought of, "I want to go again." Why in the world would I do that to myself?  Bizarre. So, I went down again. I fell every time—but less and less. Most importantly, I kept going. Learning something about it each time down.

On that day, I realized that looking straight down the mountain didn't work, but focusing on just the task at hand—that I could handle. I learned that if I keep going, eventually I will get through.  And, at some point, I might even enjoy myself! I learned that it’s okay to be cautious, smart in fact. It's okay to be a bit afraid. It's most important that you take that breath and you try. And if you fall, learn how to get up. And surround yourself with those that love you, care for you, believe in you, will stick up for you when others try to push you down, and you will actually enjoy the scenery as it goes by. You might even be able to improve your technique each time you go.

Just like building a theatre. Just like anything in life, really. Those things that are most worth it will be hard, but they are possible. I’m certainly not ready to do blue slopes yet, but I am willing to go back again and get more bruises in the process. Thank you for being those supporters on the mountain of building a theatre company. We literally could not do it without you. It's scary at times for sure, but it's definitely possible. And the bumps and bruises are worth it. We will keep diving. Taking leaps. Taking chances—with you. Looking forward to seeing you up there on that mountain again and again. Together we can do this!

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Human Connection

from Christa Kimlicko Jones, Associate Artistic Director, Director of Programming:

“The world is as a looking-glass and gives back to every man the reflection of his own face. Frown at it and it in turn will look sourly upon you; laugh at it and with it, and it is a jolly, kind companion."

~William Makepeace Thackeray 

I teach voice and speech at Stella Adler Studio.  I am an actress.  One might say I love communication. I love diving into stories and telling them well—and then discussing the stories after.  I love sitting over coffee and exchanging ideas.  I love helping a student realize that they might be understood a bit better if they would open their mouth more and breathe.  I love random conversations with strangers on the subway (sometimes complaining about the MTA, sometimes not).  I even love non-verbal conversations: realizing that you and a stranger are smiling about the same child in the stroller;  You make eye contact, and you smile at them too—sharing the moment.  I love meeting new people and hearing their stories.  “Where are you from? What brought you here?”  I love striking up conversations with taxi drivers, discovering that this person was a doctor in his country before he came here.  I love asking people about their children or pets—there is a very special light that comes on when they speak about them.  It’s a different light when you ask them about their parents.  Watch for this, it’s fascinating.  I love, love, love talking with people about dreams.  I love brainstorming the possible rungs on the ladder for reaching those dreams.

Yep, I’m that person.  I mean, I’m not annoying about it—I just think that people are fascinating!  I wish that history class had been more about the people and not so much about dates.  Anyway, I guess I’m in the right business. I get to literally step in others’ shoes and dive into their stories.

But in this constant curiosity about humanity, what I find most fascinating is the very common thread of the basic need for human connection.  We need it.  We need it to push ourselves forward.  We need it to see the mirror.  We need it for validation.  We need it to feed each other.  We have a responsibility to feed each other.  And I’m pretty sure that requires compassion.

I am so proud that Theatre East provides many outlets for possibilities for human connection; possibilities for discussion of big ideas as well as big dreams.  Whether at the monthly mixers, readings, talk backs, main-stage productions, family series—we believe in human connection, with compassion, so that we just might all help lift this world up a little bit higher.

So join us February 20^th for the next Theatre East Third Monday Mixer/Neighborhood Reading Series installment: StephenMassicotte’s THE BOY’S OWN JEDI HANDBOOK.  Come hang out, hear a fun & clever play about the life lessons a boy learned from Star Wars. (If you are a fan, were a fan, or knew anyone who was, you will love this play!) Let’s laugh about ourselves and learn from each other, shall we?

See you there!

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do something

from Christa Kimlicko Jones, Associate Artistic Director, Director of Programming:  

Back in the summer of 2001, when Jud & I lived in Austin, we were producing with the dirigo group. At that time, the group bit off a huge project called The Gypsy Chain—a heartfelt new musical, with over 30 in the cast, new music, full band, book, the whole thing. We dealt with the largest budget we’d ever encountered up to that point. While there were a lot of immediate producing lessons learned during this project, there were also some personal major life lessons. During the project, we had a fundraising event (as you are wont to do) and we had the honor of the presence of the lovely Julia Butterfly Hill (the activist who sat in a tree for two years). I remember the exact moment I met her that night...I can only describe her as pure beauty. She walked up to us, barefoot, flowing hair, jeans & a baby-doll tee that said in lowercase letters across her bosom: ‘do something.’ I couldn’t take my eyes off of her as she spoke. And all I kept thinking was "Hmm…do something." "How interesting," I thought, "that it is in lowercase letters. That perhaps, a seemingly understated act could actually mean something in the world." I remember thinking "Wow, she sat in a tree for 2 years. That is far from understated. That is HUGE." But the more I listened to her, the more I realized that perhaps she didn’t think that.  Perhaps she felt that it was understated. It was simply what she had to do. And then I thought "Yeah, whatever; there is NO WAY that I could do that!  SHE really did something.  She really made a bold move.  How can I even compare? What the heck am I doing? Plays? Geez. What does it matter?"

Every choice we make has an impact on the world. Every thought, word, and action has impact. Every time we make a choice to do something or not, to speak or not, we are changing our reality, changing our world. The question is not, “Can we make a difference?” but “What kind of a difference do I want to make?

—Julia Butterfly Hill

It was that evening that I realized that while, no, I can’t sit in a tree for 2 years…I can produce theatre.  And that is something.  It is what I know to do.  I can produce a play that might help someone see the world in a new way…to perhaps think a bit more...to feel…to inspire someone else to act as they might. As an actor, I can create a role as best I can so that a story is heard fully. As a teacher of the arts, I can help inspire others to find their voice and do their work as they might.  As an artist, I AM doing something. This is my activism. And I think that Julia would be proud. You know, I think that so often it’s easy to feel this way.  Like putting on a play, or making a movie, or acting in a play isn’t perhaps enough. Or that working at a law firm, or doing administrative work, or babysitting, or, etc., etc., etc., isn’t enough. Well, I encourage you to really think about it. It seems to me that if you are diving in and moving things forward and aiming to be the best human you can be (we all have our parts to play), that you are indeed doing something. Of course, we can always strive to challenge ourselves further—strive for excellence—and that, in itself, is doing something. Being an active participant in this amazing world is doing something.

So, as I write, what I am most excited about is being a part of bringing this next world premiere to New York audiences. In the fall of 2012, Theatre East will bring you Normalcy by Bennett Windheim. It's a story that asks great questions and provides few answers, hopefully sparking many diner, subway, and maybe even breakfast conversations. We at Theatre East will be doing what we do.  And we look forward to sharing it with you.  And hopefully inspiring you…to ‘do something’ too. 

Don’t deny the power of those little words.

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Hustle & Bustle

The Theatre East team (Todd Eric Hawkins, Judson Jones &
Christa Kimlicko Jones (with Bill Franke behind the camera)
shopping at Toys R Us for Stockings with Care

from Christa Kimlicko Jones,
Associate Artistic Director, Director of Programming: 

When a group of professional people asked a group of 4-to-8-year olds, "What does love mean?" one replied, "Love is what's in the room with you at Christmas if you stop opening presents and just listen."        ~Warren McLaren

It’s that time of the year…the lights are all around the city, people are bustling around: shopping, attending parties, traveling, baking, etc., etc., etc. Days pass and you can’t believe we’re already through December. Where did the time go? Don’t get me wrong, I love this time of the year. But I always marvel at how it gets away from me. It always flies by. And in a blink, it’s the new year. But now, you can really feel it in the air. It’s palpable. Semesters are wrapping up. Rush, rush, rush! And everyone is really looking forward to some down time. A few days off. Some time for a little rest and relaxation. I am definitely a part of this crowd! But, while I might allow myself a day or two, I get restless and somehow feel like I’m not doing what I’m supposed to be doing. So then, I go to those projects that I’ve planned for the winter break.  Big projects. Things that I’ve been putting off because there’s just not enough time the rest of the year.  And I do look forward to them.  "I’m going to rearrange [fill in the blank]."  "I’m going to read all of [fill in the blank]." "I’m going to catch up on [fill in the blank]."  While all of this is fine and good, I almost always forget to schedule in REAL down time...without feeling guilty about it. Time to just ENJOY. I always feel like I need to be checking off some list. You know what I mean?
 
But really, the best gift we can give ourselves is to actually quiet down. To stop. To listen. To just be. Especially after all of the hustle and bustle leading up to the holidays. This kind of time, this is what fuels the human spirit. It truly can’t be all work, work, work. I know that in my head, but...it's certainly easier said than done.
 
So, today let's all make a resolution—to slow down, to drink in the moments, to really see and hear and talk with our family members over the break. And once the official holidays are over, to continue to take time for down time—because that is just as important as all the activities and tasks on our to-do lists. 

I hope you have some wonderful down time over the holidays. Some time to just enjoy your surroundings, your loved ones, good movies, good theatre. Taking the time to allow your breath to drop in and really listen to this awesome world that is right in our laps. Let’s try and listen to Emily Webb from OUR TOWN this holiday season and in life in general...and really try to realize life while we live it—every, every minute.  I mean, as best we can.
 
Happy Holidays to you and yours.  Don’t forget to look at & listen to each other.

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Risk Taking

from Christa Kimlicko Jones, Associate Artistic Director, Director of Programming: 

“And the day came when the risk it took to remain tight inside the bud was more  painful than the risk it took to blossom.”

—Anaïs Nin

This week, I have been so inspired by that quote (enough to post it on Facebook, share it with my students, and now to write about it here).

I think what hits me specifically in this one is the idea of what’s at stake. It’s more painful to NOT take a risk. To never know. To live a life without diving in. To just settle. More painful because if you don’t take risks, you’re not reaching the potential of who you could be, or what could become. It’s that idea of reaching for the stars. Setting goals. Having dreams. In addition to not living to one’s potential being painful, I really think it is our duty as human beings. In order to keep the world flowing. Moving. Growing. Emerging. I mean, what if no one ever dreamed of going to the moon? Or maybe they dreamed it, but never said anything? Can you imagine? Put it like that, it seems that there is almost a responsibility to put one’s self out there. What if a group of people in Chicago never got together and said, “let’s create a company”? We’d have no Steppenwolf. What if Rosa Parks had gone to the back of the bus?

Time and time again, I’m telling myself and my students to try to stay curious. To take risks. Curiosity may have killed the cat, but it keeps the world going for sure! (And the cat has nine lives, right? :) If people weren’t curious, they wouldn’t strive to reach past their comfort zone. Creativity (in art, science, expression) requires curiosity. It requires risk taking. Staying curious, with an open heart & mind to experience the world around us and try to be the best human one can possibly be, is worth striving for. The alternative is just too painful. It’s risky to fall in love; to go to school and study what you love; to do what you love; to take a journey across the country; to say “I can do that” and really work on it; to tell a friend the hard truth; to admit when one is wrong; to write one’s thoughts down for the public to see; to trust; to fall down and get back up again; to go against the grain; to question; to Occupy Wall Street; to run for office; to have a baby; to write a poem; to paint the Sistine Chapel; to write a play; to compose a song; to admit that you DON’T want to do what you thought you wanted to do and change direction; to stick with something.

And, let’s not forget the risk of starting a theatre company—and a not-for-profit theatre company at that? Thank goodness we have amazing minds before us who can inspire us. Those that started from just an idea and have, through the years, made a tremendous mark on the world: the Alley, Steppenwolf, the Public, and many, many more. What a gift. And now, with Theatre East, who knows? It’s risky to even put the names in the same thought. But why not? We gotta dream! We gotta keep going because—the alternative is too painful. I’m so thankful to be surrounded by people who push me to be the very best I can be, and who have great dreams and goals—the people in the Theatre East community (the staff, the company, the audiences, the future audiences). Together we can do it. Together we continue to take risks, to push each other and you—so that we can all grow a little bit more. Aim to be better humans. Do our part to help make the world a better place.

The NYC marathon was this weekend—what an amazing physical act of curiosity, strength, desire, goal setting, reaching for the stars, endurance, and determination. What a great example. I am completely inspired by these people. Thank you to those that are running for taking risk and diving in. I imagine you will never be the same. In fact, I imagine you are finding out more deeply who you really are.

So let’s take ‘em. Risks. Why? The alternative is too painful.

One final note, I must thank YOU for taking a risk and supporting theatre in general. And, of course, thank you for supporting Theatre East, specifically. Together—we will blossom.

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Marathon Days

from Christa Kimlicko Jones, Associate Artistic Director, Director of Programming:

I just closed a show.  Up until last Sunday, I was acting in a new play called The Woman Standing on the Moon, by James Haigney.  We had a 16 performance run at Urban Stages in NYC.  During tech week, classes started back up, so I was teaching a full load and then walking over to the theater each night.  My ritual each evening was to touch base with my husband and pick up the largest bottle of water I could get, a yogurt, a banana, a coffee (I know, I know, not the best thing, but…sometimes I treated myself to a Pumpkin Spiced Latte, and that just made me happy!), and some kind of protein bar.  I couldn’t really eat anything more than that before the show, because, though it was long, it was very emotional, difficult subject matter.  Most nights after the show, I would need to walk it off.  I’d walk in the night air—a full 12 extra blocks to get to my train.  I’d get home close to midnight, sleep for an average of 4 ½ hours, and do it all over again.

Since school had started back up, I invited my students to come, which many of them did.  (I have to give a big shout out to them right now: Thank you to the students, especially of Stella Adler Studio.  You know how to be great audience members!!)  At any rate, I can only imagine it was an interesting introduction to me; they definitely saw me in a different light than in the classroom!   After the show, there were many dear moments with those students…and the next day in class…and days after.  One day, I recall many of them swarming around me and asking me how in the world I could do that show and then come to studio each day bright and shiny to teach and give so much?  And truly, I have to say… I wasn’t quite sure myself.  I don’t know exactly know where the energy came from or how I got through…all I know is that I had to be right in the moment.  I knew what my objective was for each class, and I pursued it to the best of my ability.  I tried not to think about what was going to happen at the end of my day (i.e. get in a major fight and completely crumble into a snotty, wailing mess in the middle of the stage).  If I thought of that too much, I’m not sure I could get through.  But instead, I was with my students.  And the moment. I took one breath at a time, one moment at a time, and the next thing I knew it was the second act, and I was in the middle of that stage.  During this process, I learned how to pace my energy out.  Whenever I found a quiet moment during my day, I took it.  I drank water all day long.  I ate light, but healthy.  I figured out what my body needed so that I could run the marathon.  Oh, and I laughed A LOT.  With my students, my colleagues, my husband, and my cast mates.  Laughter is good stuff.

I am so happy to have had an opportunity to play a role like that, for many reasons of course, but also to be able to tackle that question of, what does one have to do to be present, to not play the endgame, to not collapse from exhaustion when you’ve got so much ahead?  I think it has to do with breathing and taking that first step.  Taking every moment for itself.  I remember in graduate school, I was talking to my professor, Franchelle Stewart Dorn, who had played Medea. I asked her how in the world she did that every night.  She said, “I took a breath and I walked on the stage.”  And I realized then, “Oh, that’s what we should do every day—take a breath, start the day, be in the moment, and allow yourself to be surprised by the outcome.” 

The motto at the Stella Adler Studio is, “Growth as an actor and growth as a human being are synonymous.”  What a great truth that is.  I am so proud to get to do what I do every day.  I am often amazed.  Man, to be an artist, to learn how to be in a moment in life—and to help shape and hopefully inspire young minds—what could be better?  Sure I like sleep too, but…that’ll come soon enough.

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photo by Eva the Weaver

Finding and Revealing One’s Voice

from Christa Kimlicko Jones, Associate Artistic Director,Director of Programming: To be honest, I was dreading writing a blog post and then I realized that, in fact, what I am most anxious about is putting myself out there. Putting my voice, my thoughts out there. Exposing myself. But then, I realized, that perhaps that’s exactly what I need to write about. That’s usually the case, isn’t it? To tackle those fears head on?!
Then it occurred to me that finding and revealing one’s voice is one of the main reasons why I do theatre. It’s really what interests me most about theatre. It’s why I love to be a part of a rehearsal process so much. It’s why I read plays and want to bring them to life. To exchange ideas. To expose. To question. It’s why I feel like a theatre company is important; Theatre East is definitely a celebration of many voices coming together for a greater mission. It’s also why I teach (Voice & Speech) at Stella Adler Studio. I get to help a young actor breathe more deeply, more fully, and find their most specific, most muscular way of speaking so that they might better reveal the character’s passions, allowing for an audience to be moved, changed so that they might see a bit of themselves.
I guess I’m incredibly interested in people, in their stories, in their thoughts and dreams, their opinions—and in revealing, unveiling, exposing the truth. I’m interested in coming together to tell stories, so that we don’t feel quite so alone in this crazy journey of life.
It feels a little funny to share this in blog format. I have to say that if I had my way I’d rather sit over a lovely cup of coffee or tea (or beer or wine or whatever) and look people in the eye…and connect. And exchange. Listen. Respond. Truthfully. In the moment. Of course, there are only so many hours in the day! So, until then…this will do.
Nevertheless, that’s why I do what I do. The people are what keep me going. The stories. The ideas. The hopes and the dreams. The light bulbs. The furrowed brows. The challenge of it all. The searching for truth. One’s pure and honest, glorious voice.
And I’m thankful that I get to be a part of a world and of a craft that allows for that revelatory exploration.
Actors’ Equity Association, the union for stage actors, sends out membership renewal cards twice a year. One of the things I look forward to the most is the quote or anecdote included in the letter portion. This one hit the nail on the head for me:

"I wanted to be an actress in 1912; I want to be an actress today. That walk from the darkness backstage through the door or opening in the scenery where I make an entrance into the bright lights with that big dim mass out beyond, which bursts into applause, then the first terrifying sound that comes out of my throat, which they describe as a voice, but that first instant it is the siren of terror and intention and faith and hope and trust and vanity and security and insecurity and bloodcurdling courage which is acting." ~Ruth Gordon (1896-1985)

Yes, it’s scary to put one’s self out there—but if you do, unabashedly so, in my heart of hearts I feel that it’s absolutely worth it. Until next time,
Christa

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