When the lights go dark.
Hello world,
It's been almost a year to this day since I have blogged about anything. That makes sense. I've been doing things like raising two littles and starting my own business and recovering from pregnancy. Life has been moving along at quite a pace. But as you know, a week or so ago everything in the USA came screeching to a halt. The world has been turned on its head and we have been forced to slow down and 'stay home.'
We should have felt the warning signs sooner, and I know some apocalyptic prep people who were definitely ready well before I creeped out of my denial. But regardless of our sense of reality or acceptance and how quickly we arrived there, the slowing of our culture is now the law of the land.
Here in Massachusetts, all essential businesses have shuttered, schools are closed and the governor asks us to stay home as much as possible. We do this not only to protect ourselves and our loved ones, but to protect our essential workers, our hospitals, and our community who is the most vulnerable to this virus. It is probably the biggest shift in daily life or call to civic duty that my generation has ever experienced. We are all feeling the gravitas of the moment.
And we have only been home for a week and half.
The day everything was shut down, I knew it was coming. I was in the midst of postponing the classes at my business, Paper Moon Workshop, postponing the show I am directing, The Music Man Jr. and getting messages from the team at Theatre III that James and the Giant Peach, a show I am choreographing, was canceled. In one day, the theatre lights went dark. Everything was put on hold.
A few days later - Broadway's lights went dark. No Broadway shows are running. I still can't quite comprehend that sentence. As a theatre person, I have lived by the motto: The show must go on! I guess they have to add a caveat to that rousing call, *except during an international pandemic. So the theatre lights went dark. And I don't think I am the only thespian out there who is pretty depressed about this. Shows were canceled all over the country for high school seniors to professional actors. We all took a massive hit, and it suuuuuucks.
Now before you get your panties in a bunch, I know all about Zoom and people gathering together online and making music or hanging out or reading plays or creating videos. I have been joining in myself. And I am grateful for it. It definitely is a way to connect, which we so desperately need right now. But honestly, if you know what it feels like to have the hair on your neck stand up when someone sings a kick ass note, or finds a breakthrough in a monologue or scene, or when the energy of the whole group syncs into one, and you know you have reached a transformative place with your art, then you also know that the magic is really hard to come by through on online platform.
The reason I love theatre is because it is a live experience with people in a room together. We look into each other's eyes. We feel vulnerable. We listen. We react. We create. We laugh. We tell our stories and make mistakes and work hard. Together. Honestly, theatre does not live on a screen - it's not meant to. Theatre lives in the room with each other, in a moment that can never be lived again.
To me, it is a spiritual practice. It helps me live in the present moment. It's magic.
Anyone knows this magic who has watched a live show that changed their life or made them cry. If you go back and see a live broadcast of that show on TV, it doesn't hold a candle to the live moment. Why? Because something happens to particles in our body when we are together and experiencing art. It's absolutely unexplainable and transformative.
I have been acting and singing onstage since I was 4 years old. Here is a picture of me in my first school play. I was on FIRE.
My next part was Gretel in The Sound of Music. I have been hooked ever since. And I don't mean hooked like it's something I am interested in. Theatre has literally been my saving grace for almost my entire life. It turns me on, it helps me stay healthy mentally and physically and emotionally, and it is the place where I feel most useful to the world. It is the place where I feel most myself.
So when the stage lights go dark, in a sense, I feel as if my light goes dark too. My mental health suffers, my physical fitness goes down the tubes, I'm less balanced and much more depressed. When I was younger, this would happen during summer vacations. About a month into it, I would get really blue. I did not feel happy or useful. I missed the stage and my theatre family too much. I wonder if I am the only actor, techie, director, or singer who feels this way. My guess is I'm not.
So how does someone like me tend to their own light when the magic of their art form is unavailable to them?
Honestly, I'm not sure. I am trying to engage with my students in creative ways on Zoom and FaceTime. We are reading plays with each other and learning choreography and practicing our music. But the magic is not there. The technology will never be able to keep up with the live experience. We all know this from online relationships and social media. Connecting online is never as profound as connecting hand in hand, eye to eye, soul to soul. Not only that, but the technology is not made for this! There are kinks in sound transfer and delays so that when you try to sing with each other the noise is canceled out, or someone cannot hear. You spend most of the lesson trying to combat the deficiencies of the technology, and do not spend a lot of time connecting in a true way.
If anyone has any advice to fix these glitches, by the way, I am all ears! I need help navigating this cyber world for my own sanity and for the benefit of my students.
But here we are. We are alive. We are moving forward. We are extremely privileged in so so many ways. So I have to believe that the answer to this dilemma is inside me. I can find a way to switch the lights back on so I can continue to share my light with my students and hopefully the world.
Thanks for reading. I have to get on some platform. If it can't be a stage for now, it might as well be a blog. :)
It's been almost a year to this day since I have blogged about anything. That makes sense. I've been doing things like raising two littles and starting my own business and recovering from pregnancy. Life has been moving along at quite a pace. But as you know, a week or so ago everything in the USA came screeching to a halt. The world has been turned on its head and we have been forced to slow down and 'stay home.'
We should have felt the warning signs sooner, and I know some apocalyptic prep people who were definitely ready well before I creeped out of my denial. But regardless of our sense of reality or acceptance and how quickly we arrived there, the slowing of our culture is now the law of the land.
Here in Massachusetts, all essential businesses have shuttered, schools are closed and the governor asks us to stay home as much as possible. We do this not only to protect ourselves and our loved ones, but to protect our essential workers, our hospitals, and our community who is the most vulnerable to this virus. It is probably the biggest shift in daily life or call to civic duty that my generation has ever experienced. We are all feeling the gravitas of the moment.
And we have only been home for a week and half.
The day everything was shut down, I knew it was coming. I was in the midst of postponing the classes at my business, Paper Moon Workshop, postponing the show I am directing, The Music Man Jr. and getting messages from the team at Theatre III that James and the Giant Peach, a show I am choreographing, was canceled. In one day, the theatre lights went dark. Everything was put on hold.
A few days later - Broadway's lights went dark. No Broadway shows are running. I still can't quite comprehend that sentence. As a theatre person, I have lived by the motto: The show must go on! I guess they have to add a caveat to that rousing call, *except during an international pandemic. So the theatre lights went dark. And I don't think I am the only thespian out there who is pretty depressed about this. Shows were canceled all over the country for high school seniors to professional actors. We all took a massive hit, and it suuuuuucks.
Now before you get your panties in a bunch, I know all about Zoom and people gathering together online and making music or hanging out or reading plays or creating videos. I have been joining in myself. And I am grateful for it. It definitely is a way to connect, which we so desperately need right now. But honestly, if you know what it feels like to have the hair on your neck stand up when someone sings a kick ass note, or finds a breakthrough in a monologue or scene, or when the energy of the whole group syncs into one, and you know you have reached a transformative place with your art, then you also know that the magic is really hard to come by through on online platform.
The reason I love theatre is because it is a live experience with people in a room together. We look into each other's eyes. We feel vulnerable. We listen. We react. We create. We laugh. We tell our stories and make mistakes and work hard. Together. Honestly, theatre does not live on a screen - it's not meant to. Theatre lives in the room with each other, in a moment that can never be lived again.
To me, it is a spiritual practice. It helps me live in the present moment. It's magic.
Anyone knows this magic who has watched a live show that changed their life or made them cry. If you go back and see a live broadcast of that show on TV, it doesn't hold a candle to the live moment. Why? Because something happens to particles in our body when we are together and experiencing art. It's absolutely unexplainable and transformative.
I have been acting and singing onstage since I was 4 years old. Here is a picture of me in my first school play. I was on FIRE.
My next part was Gretel in The Sound of Music. I have been hooked ever since. And I don't mean hooked like it's something I am interested in. Theatre has literally been my saving grace for almost my entire life. It turns me on, it helps me stay healthy mentally and physically and emotionally, and it is the place where I feel most useful to the world. It is the place where I feel most myself.
So when the stage lights go dark, in a sense, I feel as if my light goes dark too. My mental health suffers, my physical fitness goes down the tubes, I'm less balanced and much more depressed. When I was younger, this would happen during summer vacations. About a month into it, I would get really blue. I did not feel happy or useful. I missed the stage and my theatre family too much. I wonder if I am the only actor, techie, director, or singer who feels this way. My guess is I'm not.
So how does someone like me tend to their own light when the magic of their art form is unavailable to them?
Honestly, I'm not sure. I am trying to engage with my students in creative ways on Zoom and FaceTime. We are reading plays with each other and learning choreography and practicing our music. But the magic is not there. The technology will never be able to keep up with the live experience. We all know this from online relationships and social media. Connecting online is never as profound as connecting hand in hand, eye to eye, soul to soul. Not only that, but the technology is not made for this! There are kinks in sound transfer and delays so that when you try to sing with each other the noise is canceled out, or someone cannot hear. You spend most of the lesson trying to combat the deficiencies of the technology, and do not spend a lot of time connecting in a true way.
If anyone has any advice to fix these glitches, by the way, I am all ears! I need help navigating this cyber world for my own sanity and for the benefit of my students.
But here we are. We are alive. We are moving forward. We are extremely privileged in so so many ways. So I have to believe that the answer to this dilemma is inside me. I can find a way to switch the lights back on so I can continue to share my light with my students and hopefully the world.
Thanks for reading. I have to get on some platform. If it can't be a stage for now, it might as well be a blog. :)
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