We Are Family

from Todd Eric Hawkins, Managing Director 
 

In school, I was constantly bullied; I was ganged up on, beaten, and terrorized on a regular basis. Or at least that is how it felt at the time.

On my first day of sixth grade, I transitioned to a middle school in Norman, Oklahoma. It was the first time I wasn’t able to walk to school; I had to ride the bus.  This concept to me was terrifying. At 11 years old, I was already almost 6 feet tall and I was painfully shy—a combination that would prove to be a liability.

I sat on the bus that first morning, scared of the new experience. To soothe myself, I held my books to my chest, trying to make myself as small as humanly possible. I can only assume that I thought that if I stayed still, none of the other kids would notice me and, therefore, wouldn’t pick on me. My height made this impossible.

One of the boys on the bus asked if I was a boy or a girl. I, of course, told him that I was a boy. At the time I didn’t realize it, but the next move would be the beginning of my many encounters with bullies. He told me that he thought I was a girl, because I carried my books like one. Everyone laughed and that was all it took, I was called a fag for the first time in my life.  At the time I didn’t even know what the word meant, let alone whether I was one or not.

I consider myself one of the lucky ones. When I look back on that time and the events that followed over the course of the next six years, I am oddly thankful. Without that teasing I wouldn’t be the person I am today, nor would I have found a home in the theatre.

In the Drama Club, I found my allies, a merry band of misfits who were all looking for some kind of escape from the cruel, unjust world that we were forced to inhabit. In the auditorium after school, during countless hours of rehearsal, I felt like a valued member of the team. That feeling gave me the strength to ignore the name-calling and fight back when pushed.  I discovered who I was.

The theatre has always provided me with a sense of family. Whether it was high school, college, or Theatre East, the people who surround me when I am actively engaged in the art of making theatre are the best people I know. 

I think much of it has to do with the collaborative nature of the theatre. Nothing can get done without everyone involved doing his or her job. Success depends upon it.  Even when things don’t seem to be going well, the show, as they say, must go on, and the players must pull together and do whatever it takes to make it happen. That lesson may be the most valuable thing I have learned from the theatre.

I am honored to be a part of the Theatre East family, and as part of that family, I am committed to doing whatever it takes to make it a success. Thank you for welcoming me and above all for your continued support.

TheatreEast.org
Support Theatre East

Are You Not Entertained?

from William Franke, Director of Development & Communications

 

While I realize that quoting the catchphrase from an Oscar-winning film from 11 years ago may not seem the most timely of ideas, I couldn't help but think of Maximus bellowing to the crowds at the Colosseum after reading the latest post at An Uncommon Mind. Subtitled An Autodidact's Guide to Public Education, it is the blog of Joanne O'Brien, who is a high school teacher as well as a longtime friend of Theatre East*.

 

In her post from last Sunday, Joanne addresses the challenges of Engagement vs. Entertainment in education, asking "How did we come to confuse engagement with entertainment, and to insist that teachers perform like marionettes, bouncing around the classroom, mouthing scripts prepared by others?" She goes on to argue that truly engaging educational instruction "challenges the student to seek out the answers to questions of 'how' and 'why' in addition to the 'what' and 'who' of a topic. This search goes hand-in-hand with challenging activities, and rewards students for delving deeply into subject matter."

 

As I read this, it occurred to me that what Joanne strives for in the classroom is what Theatre East strives for in the theater. In the classroom, the "why" makes learning so much more interesting than the simple rote memorization of names, dates & places. And of course in the theater it is enjoyable to see complex characters in interesting situations and it's rewarding to be able to parse out the "why"—the motivation— behind each character's words & actions. But that would stop at being merely entertaining. At Theatre East, as we lay out in our core beliefs, we believe that theatre enables a greater connection to the world and to each other & that it is a catalyst for critical thinking.
We seek to advance the dialogue of the shared human experience through works that utilize simple storytelling,providing our community with a platform to deepen its understanding of themselves, each other and the world we share...works that provoke you to see the "what" up on stage, think about how the "who" is you, and challenge you to debate what your "how" & "why" would be under those circumstances. And not to have the solution laid out up on stage, but rather allow it to be  something you discover & unlock inside of you.

I feel we've done a pretty good job wrestling with some meaty issues in our past couple of seasons with EYE OF GOD (what are the limits of faith, especially where they intersect with a woman's right to choose?) and THE SOLDIER DREAMS (who has the right to make end-of-life decisions for a loved one? and how can we connect with them before it's too late?) and I look forward to the discussions that will follow NORMALCY in August-September. What will those post-show conversations be like? Well, you'll have to come to the show and see for yourself!

 

 TheatreEast.org

Support Theatre East

*(and wife to Theatre East's Resident Composer & Sound Designer, Scott O'Brien.)

Planted Seeds

Jim's aunt, grandfather, visiting relative (actually from NYC!), and uncle (L to R)

We're excited to have our first guest post! This one comes from Theatre East community member & supporter Jim Farfaglia:

Seeing plays in New York City is a big deal for an upstater like me, so back in December 2007, while in town visiting a college buddy, I was looking forward to a good show. The tickets to a play at the Beckett Theatre were a gift from a friend of a friend, who offered just a brief preview as he placed them in my hand: “I’ve heard good things about this one.” I was ready for the larger world theatre can offer our certain lives. I was ready to see things fresh. But what I wasn’t ready for, standing and applauding that performance of Harvest, was what broke ground in my opening heart as that curtain closed.

I was raised in a rural area near the Great Lake Ontario, where winter blizzards and rain-filled springs create rich muck farms. Two of my uncles’ families made their lives on those farms, and my earliest memories are filled with all the drama homespun lives can produce. The characters of Harvest wrestled with that kind of life, and watching their passages through the play was a tender reminder that only a few of my uncles’ generation were still with us and, when we buried them, we would also be burying the farming life. The emotion I felt for both the Harvest performance and my ancestry stirred with my applause—and the seed to somehow honor my family was planted.

A few years had to pass before I could nurture that seed to fruition. I took every opportunity to talk with my relatives—the older the better—asking them to share what they remembered from those farming days. We nosed around the root cellars of our memories, compared notes over dinners made from Grandma’s recipes, held photos of our loved ones like prized produce.

During the first half of 2011, I wrote feverishly, something within me urging: Now is the time. By September the book was complete and Country Boy, a collection of poems about the people, places and thinkings of my youth, was bound. How fortunate I was to be able to place a copy of it in my father’s hands six weeks before he passed away, and how my memories curled up with his in our last talks.

It’s not often that we can see so clearly the line between a life-changing event and its humble beginning.  Today, when I attend a book signing and read from Country Boy, I always start by telling the audience about a little theatre company tucked away, like the sweetest farm garden, in a corner of New York City. And I tell them about a play that brought me to my feet, that brought my pen to paper. Thanks Jud. Thanks Christa. Thanks cast and crew. May you always hold close the truth that Harvest did not die with its last performance. In fact, it thrives.

TheatreEast.org
Support Theatre East

you can find Country Boy on Amazon.

you can find a schedule of Jim's readings at the CNY [Central New York] Arts Center here.

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!

TheatreEast.org
Support Theatre East

Commitment

from William Franke, Director of Development & Communications

Those of you who have been reading this blog & paying close attention will note that this post is a few days later than usual. Which is ironic, as I am usually the one cracking the whip to get those other jokers to turn in their blog posts (and then they turn in some great stuff, don't they?).

It's this state of affairs that has gotten me to thinking about the word "commitment" for a couple of days now. It does seem like commitment is a pretty rare commodity nowadays. Meteorologists change their forecasts; corporations push back their product launches; politicians renege on their promises; judges & lawyers adjourn court dates; blog posts come in a few days late...

But when I think about the theatre, I cannot help but be a bit proud at the level of commitment shown by all involved. Despite the bad rap that artists often get, their commitment is often the strongest thing going. When you go to the theater, that curtain comes up because all of the artists involved made a commitment—to put on that show, to share something with the audience who have taken the time, spent the money, and are giving their attention to the folks on stage. They made a commitment of their time, talent & energy months in advance (often for little pay) to design the lights, write the score & design the sound, craft the set, learn the lines, delve into the characters...to create this world to share with an audience for 90 minutes a night (and beyond the walls of the theater)...to meet that curtain deadline with a quality product worth sharing. 

There's a reason the old adage goes "The show must go on."

I'm not thinking about this only because I'm behind schedule posting to this blog, though. As those of you who follow us on the Facebook know, on Friday the 13th, a number of our staff & design team did a walk-through of the Peter Jay Sharp theater on west 42nd Street. Yesterday, Jud & Christa (our Artistic Director & Associate Artistic Director) returned to put down the deposit on the space—to make a commitment to presenting our next mainstage production there (that's a sneak-peek, first-time announcement for those of you reading this).

Over the past year or so, a number of you have shown your support—monetarily & spiritually—because you have seen what we do and you believe it is worth sharing with the New York community. In return we've made a commitment to keep putting community back in theatre and do so by producing a full season. I'm proud that we've taken this next step in honoring that commitment, and I look forward to sharing it all with you when the curtain goes up.

TheatreEast.org
Support Theatre East

Did You See What You Did?

Today is your last opportunity to make tax-deductible donations in 2011. We hope that you will include Theatre East in your giving. As we gear up for our most ambitious season yet, we’re counting on your support once again. For the first time, Theatre East will produce a full season, starting off in fall 2012 with the WORLD premiere of Bennett Windheim’s NORMALCY, a play that uses transracial adoption as a catalyst to have an honest & candid dialogue about race in America through the prism of a well-meaning, well-to-do white couple contemplating the adoption of an African-American child.

Then in spring 2013 we'll produce the New York premiere of an amazing play that we're currently in negotiations for (and can’t quite announce yet). But you’ll hear about it soon! We’ll of course continue the Neighborhood Reading Series and educational programming. And we can’t wait to bring it all to you!

So, what do we need to pull all this off? $120,000.

That may sound steep, but a gift of just $25 can put us on our way. For more information click here. You can also go here to see all the benefits of giving; this is just a small way for us to thank you for your support. As always, every gift is truly appreciated.

TheatreEast.org
Support Theatre East

Mother Teresa Would Want You to Donate to the Arts

from William Franke, Director of Development & Communications

Ahh, it's the holiday season...when everyone is so busy wrapping up work projects, shopping for gifts, going to parties...and attending fundraising benefits for nonprofit organizations.

I know that for me, it's hard to prioritize which types of charities to give to. Even for people in the arts, it seems like there are so many more important causes out there.

Then I heard this story on The Moth, which is a collection of real people telling their true stories on stage. The guest host for the Moth’s Chicago story slam evening, Peter Sagal (host of NPR’s news quiz show Wait Wait...Don’t Tell Me) related this story at the end of the evening that his friend, Morgan, had told him about Mother Teresa:

When she was younger, Morgan was a dramaturg and, for whatever reason, she became quite infatuated with Mother Teresa and thought her the apotheosis of humanity. Her obsession with her ran to the point that, when she learned Mother Teresa was in New York for some kind of official visit (back in the ’80s), she tracked down the hotel she was staying at and went to see her. She caught up with Mother Teresa as she was getting out of a car (with a cadre of nuns) and proceeded to gush “Oh, Mother Teresa, the work you do is so wonderful; the work you do is so important and it’s so wonderful and I just want to come to Calcutta and do that work with you. Because I just think it’s so wonderful.” 

And Mother Teresa gently shook her head and said “No, no, you don’t do this work because you think it’s good; you do this work because you so love the poor people of Calcutta with whom I work, that you can’t be away from them. That’s when you come and you do this work.”

Morgan stood there, realizing she’d been gently rebuked, when Mother Teresa asked what it was she did. Morgan replied “Well, what I do is not important. What I do is I work in a theater and I help put on plays, and what use is that?”

To which Mother Teresa replied, “There are so many different kinds of famine in this world. In my country there is a famine of the body. In this country, there is a famine of the spirit. Stay here and feed your people.”

With your help, we promise to continue doing our part to nourish & feed the people in our community as best we can.

Now, you may have noticed that Theatre East is not throwing a year-end fundraising gala, but that doesn't mean we aren't trying to raise funds! We'll be in touch about a live event in the spring. But for now, since we know everyone is so busy, we thought we'd keep the time commitment low with an event on Facebook; or you can go directly to our website.
With your donations, we'll be able to continue bringing you plays like The Solider Dreams and Eye of God. We're currently ramping up for our most ambitious season yet—our first full season, starting off in fall 2012 with the WORLD premiere of Bennett Windheim’s Normalcy, a play that uses transracial adoption as a catalyst to have an honest and candid dialogue about race in America through the prism of a well-meaning, well-to-do white couple contemplating the adoption of an African-American child. We'll also be continuing our educational efforts with the New Rites Collective.

Thank you so much for your support, now at the end of the year & always.

TheatreEast.org
Support Theatre East

illustration by Nadia Nadege

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.

TheatreEast.org
Support Theatre East

Nourishing & Being Nourished

from Judson Jones, Artistic Director

For so many, the past few days have centered around old family recipes, football, cheese balls, sausage balls, merriment, naps, Mylanta, leftovers, more cheese balls, more sausage balls, more merriment, more naps, followed by even more Mylanta. But more than anything it has centered around being with those we love. It has centered around conversations & laughter & stories & toasts & smiles & seeing those faces we hold dear.

My wife and I love entertaining guests. We always have. And we’ve always felt incredibly fortunate that people want to come. Growing up as a minister's son, my family was always having someone over for dinner; "Go to church to nourish your soul, come to the house after to nourish your body." I think it was this idea of nourishment that I latched onto. This idea of giving of yourself to others and providing a place for people to interact, eat, drink, discuss, and in general, have a great time. There's also something about having the opportunity to serve our friends that we love. By nourishing them, they in turn nourish us.

But this idea goes beyond the walls of our apartment. Our desire to serve, to nourish, to fellowship, are also the reasons we at Theatre East choose to produce. To have people come be guests at our table and truly partake in what we can only hope is a sumptuous banquet. To be engaged, to be moved, to enjoy, to dream, to question, to hope, to laugh, to love and yes, sometimes even to hate. And then come back for seconds! (You know what I’m talking about—no one likes having the dish that has plenty left over after a meal!) We are indeed so thankful that you have come to our table. We set it for you. Thank you for the conversations. Thank you for sharing in the stories. And thank you for allowing us to host. Our most fervent hope is that you leave feeling nourished.

Jane Howard said, "Call it a clan, call it a network, call it a tribe, call it a family. Whatever you call it, whoever you are, you need one." We believe this to be true and whether it’s our mainstage productions or educational programming or reading series or mixers, we’re constantly taking steps to provide opportunities for us to interact and provide for our community. So on the weekend of this Thanksgiving holiday, we would like to take this moment, raise a glass, look across the table and thank you for being with us and for allowing us to be a part of your community.

TheatreEast.org
Support Theatre East

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.

TheatreEast.org
Support Theatre East

Straight Furrows

 from Judson Jones, Artistic Director

I spend the majority of my time at my desk. If I’m not at the theatre or in a meeting or teaching, that’s where you’ll find me. I keep a fairly neat desk. I try to keep a fairly neat desk. I have a stack of plays I need to read, another stack of legal pads with lists of things that I need to get done (some of them are even checked off), an assortment of sticky notes to remind me to look at my legal pads, a cup of coffee that will remain there and mostly full throughout the day, and two pictures. One of my wife and me when we were around 23 years old living in Tyler, Texas; we’re young, ready to take on the world, and I have a full head of dark hair. The other of my great-grandfather and two great-uncles in Idabel, Oklahoma taken sometime in the early 1930s; they’re genuine, stalwart, and robust.

Over the past several days, a story about my great-grandfather, Pap, has continually crept into my mind. My mother once asked him, after spending a day watching him plow the fields, how he made his furrows so straight. He simply replied, “I keep my eyes on the end of the row.” I think about that simple statement and what great truth it holds.

With all that goes into running a theatre company—going from board meetings to production meetings to finance meetings, making phone calls, sending emails, union negotiations, grant writing, drafting budgets, readings, rehearsals, hikes in rent, good reviews, bad reviews, fundraisers, etc. etc. etc.—it can be easy to all of a sudden look up and think, “Where the hell am I ?! How did I get here?” You no longer recognize your mission statement and you’ve forgotten the reason you started the thing in the first place. You took your eyes off the end of the row. You took what you thought was a detour and now you’re on a completely different track altogether. We see this happen all too often.

Perhaps this is why I keep these pictures on my desk, specifically the one of Pap and my great-uncles. It’s a constant reminder of that simple truth. As we look to our busiest season yet, and as our company continues to grow, we promise to stand by our mission and our core beliefs, to keep our eyes on the end of the row. And know that at the center of all that is our commitment to you, our community.

TheatreEast.org
Support Theatre East

The Wonder of Theatre

from Todd Eric Hawkins, Managing Director 

For my 12^th Birthday, my family took me to see The Man of La Mancha at the University of Oklahoma. It was the first time I experienced live theatre. I remember very few details about the events that led up to stepping into the lobby of the theater, but from that moment on everything is etched into memory.

The theater was the most beautiful place I had ever been. The red carpeted lobby that curved around the back of the theater, the chandeliers that hung majestically above my head as we waited to be seated. There was an excitement in the air. I watched as people began to fill the lobby, I listened as they reconnected with friends and talked about their lives and the people they knew in common.
 
When we entered the theater, my Grandmother asked me to find our seats as she handed me the ticket stubs. I walked up the side of the aisle looking for the letter E and then walked along the long curved row of seats until I found the numbers on the tickets. The crowd was pouring into the theater as we sat down. As they entered, the noise from the lobby became a whisper. The kind of hushed speech I heard at church on Sunday mornings. 

As the lights began to dim and the orchestra started to play, I was overcome with a sensation that I had never felt before. I felt as though an electrical current was shooting through my body. My Grandmother would later recall that at that moment I sat on the edge of my seat and stayed there for the entire performance, as if I was trying to “be up there with them.” 

Whatever I thought I wanted to do when I grew up before that night vanished from my 12 year-old mind. I was being summoned to the theatre. 

It would be 14 years before I experienced that sensation again so fully, the day I arrived in New York City for the first time. 

I flew into LaGuardia Airport filled with all of the stories of danger that my parents had instilled me. As the cab crossed the Triborough Bridge and headed down the FDR, I thought it was the noisiest, dirtiest city.  Why would anyone choose to live here? Then the cab turned off of 50^th Street onto Broadway and Times Square came into view. Suddenly, I was home. 

I spent that evening ignoring my parents’ advice and walking the streets of Times Square, stopping to read each billboard and picturing my name in lights. I passed Tommy, Kiss of the Spiderwoman, Phantom of the Opera, and Angels in America. 

The following day I had an audition for several regional theaters through my college program and I had purchased a ticket to a show—my first Broadway show—for after the audition to celebrate my success. A success that would unfortunately never happen, not the way I had imagined anyway. 

I performed my monologue from Division Street the next day for a panel of two judges. In order to go forward to the actual audition you had to receive a yes from both judges; I got only one. I was devastated. 

That night I drug myself to the theater to see Cyrano: The Musical. I took my seat and waited for the show to begin. The lights dimmed and the overture began. Suddenly, as the music began to swell the name Cyrano began to be written on the scrim as if it were being hand written by Cyrano himself. The signature ended with a long stroke of the pen across the surface as the scrim began to rise. Suddenly, I was no longer a bitter and depressed 26 year old, I was 12 again. 

The power of theatre is that it has the ability to uphold, tear apart, and reassemble how the viewer thinks, feels, and, in some cases, behaves. Theatre has always acted as a bumper in my life, continually pushing and steering me on my journey and shaping me into the person I am today. 

I proudly accepted the role of Managing Director at Theatre East as a way to make sure that experiences like mine are available for others. Together we will work to provide a platform for our community, allowing them to experience the power of theatre that changed my life.

TheatreEast.org
Support Theatre East

The Whole Is Greater Than the Sum of Its Parts

 
 from Judson Jones, Artistic Director

Gestalt. It’s one of my absolute favorite words. It's a German word that basically means that the whole cannot be derived by a simple summation of its parts. For me, this isn’t an example of how theatre can work, but instead how theatre should work. A few years ago a group of artists, members of our business community, and supporters gathered in a room to ask a question. That question was: 

Can we build a theatre company whose commitment to community, whose commitment to operating in a transparent and inclusive manner, whose commitment to the incredible power theatre possesses, is matched only by the commitment to producing earnest, catalyzing, provocative, needed, and great work?

While it has not always been easy, and we haven’t always succeeded, this continues to be our goal. The success of this company—our educational and community programming, past and future productions—is not due to the work of any individual, but to the work of many.

I’m constantly fascinated by the process of putting a production together. Everything about it. From selecting the script (or the script selecting you)…to assuring the playwright you won’t destroy their play…finding the space…hoping you can afford it…bringing on the director, supporting their vision…hiring the creative team and hoping the designers get along…the director leading the creative team to his or her vision and then being brave enough to let them run with it…finding your cast…hoping you find them…trusting that you’ll find them…being so thankful when you finally find them…doubting every decision you make…production meetings….staff meetings…marketing meetings…board meetings…meetings about meetings…publicity…unions…realizing that, while you have 10 bottles of wine for the opening night gala, you need to frantically run to the store immediately after curtain because no one brought a corkscrew…all of this, and ultimately hoping you have the budget to pull it off.

And you do all this in the fervent hope…to share a moment. All of these people working together, giving of themselves, their craft, working around the clock, hours of rehearsals, months of planning…hoping to create a single moment. A single shared moment with you. Why? Because it is in that moment we are closest to the gods.

I believe that.

TomOppenheim, Artistic Director of The Stella Adler Studios, lauded Theatre East at our first benefit with the following words: "I see there a mirror that reflects exactly the vision of a sane theater that Harold Clurman calls for. They have beautifully articulated alist of values, which are sound, noble, and creatively potent. They sing of the theatre providing a communal experience, connecting us to the world and each other, catalyzing critical thinking, educating us; they insist the theatre be accessible and, like Harold Clurman, see it ultimately as a civilizing force." I told Tom then that we did not deserve such words, but I hope we can earn them.

All my very best,
Judson

TheatreEast.org
Support Theatre East