After a prolonged ‘heartbreak hiatus’ from theatre, I really felt no need to step back onto the stage. The slow slide of a dramatic divorce, sudden shock of single motherhood, and a stairway fall that took my brother’s life were enough to send me to my room and though life was good, I was not ready to come that far out. Long before the sideways years I’d fallen out of love… or so I thought. Twenty- five years of acting had left its mark. I was tired of having to be given ‘permission’ by the casting process in order to create. I loved the times when I was ‘first’ but exhausted by the times being ‘second’. “Lift yourself up, dust yourself off, and start all over again” sounded like heavy lifting where acting was concerned so I chose to let this deeply defining part of me go.
And I’d been writing plays: loving the lines that I wrote, accepting of the ones on my face. There is great freedom as writing comes in its own time, in yoga clothes and goes public when I’m damn good and ready. My plays got produced, my sons got to soccer and life was good. Even in its painful chaos, the writing (and the boys) made it good.
When “The Graduate” came along I had a twinge and I ignored it. Having started a business and ended an affair I was pretty sure I was not game for risk.
But I have this friend… And this friend bought me wine. And after a glass or two and veiled threats of retracting the friendship I was told of time and place of the auditions. Drunk on candlelight and viognoire I proposed the idea that “Maybe I’m not good at love or acting.” My friend, who sees me better than I see my naked self, kicked my ass in the audition door.
I’m not sure what I expected form Mrs. Robinson, but I did know this: I would strive to play her complexity simply. I would reconnect with the broader theatre community. One way or another, I would have to be naked.
What I didn’t know was how embraced I would feel, how at home. People showed up, not in audience numbers, but in the waves of friends and friends of friends who came: Realtor friends and soccer moms and high school friends and newer friends and theatre people, some I known and some I’d always heard of, bearing messages of good will pre and post show. Family and friends flew into town and out again, crossing mid-air paths with another jet, another friend flying in. My life in circles came together, welcoming me back from my seclusion and I was joyfully overwhelmed.
Actors working show to show may take all this for granted. There are always shows that are more fun than others, casts we hate to say good bye to, and shows which can’t close soon enough. There is bitching and laughing and sometimes it’s just a job. I’ve been there. But what I learned in my post-Graduate studies is a great deal of gratitude. When you’re willing to put yourself out there, to take the naked risk, the rewards far exceed the expectations.
"Here’s to you Mrs. Robinson."
Monday, March 22, 2010
Tuesday, February 23, 2010
DEATH, FACEBOOK & THE NTC: close one door, open another
I have a feeling that except for my inner circle, most of the people who know me will learn of my death on Facebook. I’ve heard of two such loses this week as the Denver theatre community bids farewell to two beloveds. First it was Renye, a much loved artist who fell to cancer and days later the death knell of the National Theatre Conservatory. The one is inexplicable, the other begs for answers and I, the optimist, believe there is re-birth at hand.
The NTC was former Denver Center Artistic Director Donovan Marley’s baby; his vision for sustaining the future of the American Theatre through the impeccable training of the actor. It brought much to the then fledgling Theatre Company and far more through the years. Having bright young talent in our midst has kept us young and connected to why we began our own journeys in this profession. The impact the alumni have had on the world of and beyond Denver is impressive; I’m blessed to have known so many of them.
From the outside this feels like a drastic step. But in the post 911 years I’ve watched the adjustments made to production budgets, the job cuts and their duties consolidated in an effort to keep the Conservatory alive within a difficult economic climate. Though I cannot explain their decision, I am certain that the “Powers That Be” within the DCPA considered the options carefully before slashing this jewel. Like many have noted and all of us hope, perhaps with the National Charter, it may find rebirth.
As a Realtor in this market, I know that change is constant and things in the Denver theatre community have changed. Under the vision of Artistic Director Kent Thompson a new nurturance of artistic talent is taking place at the DCTC as the New Play Summit bears witness. I am not sure it’s fair to say that the future of the American Theatre is enriched more by investing in acting talent than in writing talent, for the nurturance of artistic voice and vision further our society regardless of the medium. God knows I’m not in favor of closing the NTC, but let’s not take our eyes off of the good that IS happening here. A fearless and risky commitment to the development of new plays is nothing to sniff at. In fact, finding new stories and discovering new ways to tell them is surely the best way to ensure the health of the theatre and the employment of all of its artists.
For years I heard an endless drone of white noise grousing about how the Denver Center was hermetically sealed to local talent, but that too has changed. Through the efforts of Mr. Thompson, Bruce Sevy and former DCTC casting director Sylvia Gregory among others, many talented Denver actors have been seen in plays and employed by the Center in the past few years. A great deal more interest has been paid to our talent pool and I believe that we’ll see more.
So rather than seeing only loss and feeling anger, perhaps we should stay focused on the gifts we’ve been given and the rebirth ahead; for Renye, and for the NTC. And if you hear of my untimely demise via Facebook, keep the wise cracks to a minimum. Or better yet, keep ‘em comin’.
The NTC was former Denver Center Artistic Director Donovan Marley’s baby; his vision for sustaining the future of the American Theatre through the impeccable training of the actor. It brought much to the then fledgling Theatre Company and far more through the years. Having bright young talent in our midst has kept us young and connected to why we began our own journeys in this profession. The impact the alumni have had on the world of and beyond Denver is impressive; I’m blessed to have known so many of them.
From the outside this feels like a drastic step. But in the post 911 years I’ve watched the adjustments made to production budgets, the job cuts and their duties consolidated in an effort to keep the Conservatory alive within a difficult economic climate. Though I cannot explain their decision, I am certain that the “Powers That Be” within the DCPA considered the options carefully before slashing this jewel. Like many have noted and all of us hope, perhaps with the National Charter, it may find rebirth.
As a Realtor in this market, I know that change is constant and things in the Denver theatre community have changed. Under the vision of Artistic Director Kent Thompson a new nurturance of artistic talent is taking place at the DCTC as the New Play Summit bears witness. I am not sure it’s fair to say that the future of the American Theatre is enriched more by investing in acting talent than in writing talent, for the nurturance of artistic voice and vision further our society regardless of the medium. God knows I’m not in favor of closing the NTC, but let’s not take our eyes off of the good that IS happening here. A fearless and risky commitment to the development of new plays is nothing to sniff at. In fact, finding new stories and discovering new ways to tell them is surely the best way to ensure the health of the theatre and the employment of all of its artists.
For years I heard an endless drone of white noise grousing about how the Denver Center was hermetically sealed to local talent, but that too has changed. Through the efforts of Mr. Thompson, Bruce Sevy and former DCTC casting director Sylvia Gregory among others, many talented Denver actors have been seen in plays and employed by the Center in the past few years. A great deal more interest has been paid to our talent pool and I believe that we’ll see more.
So rather than seeing only loss and feeling anger, perhaps we should stay focused on the gifts we’ve been given and the rebirth ahead; for Renye, and for the NTC. And if you hear of my untimely demise via Facebook, keep the wise cracks to a minimum. Or better yet, keep ‘em comin’.
Monday, February 15, 2010
My Naked Truth
Regarding the nudity, or lack of it, in the Aurora Fox's production of "The Graduate", John Moore's mention of it in the Sunday Denver Post and the current dialogue... The decision about the nudity was made before I signed on to do the show. I was aware that the script called for it when I auditioned and as a professional actress and playwright, I would have bucked up (or should I say 'buffed up'?) and done it. Frankly, I am not a fan of alterations to theatre (that's for you John) scripts, and I'm not sure of a playwright who is. I find additions, subtractions and 'improvements' to plays by other theatre artists disrespectful at the least, hubris if I'm being dramatic. As an actress/playwright I must remember which hat is on my head to avoid conflict, though we writers actually have unions and guilds to prevent these decisions from being made and recourse for them when they are. But that's a discussion for another column, another blog.
Basically, disregarding the author's intent is equal to the actor not honoring the director's directorial notes, or the costume designer blowing off the agreed upon color palette, you get the idea. It says that you may have your job, but I know better. What if, for example, playing Mrs. Robinson I chose to take the same liberty and come out one evening stark naked? The hierarchy of theatre has always been skewed. We claim to serve the play and mouth that the playwright is king or queen, then make changes as suits our needs. Happens in film, happens in TV... where there's a writer, there's an editor. The line of demarcation here is in intent. Does deleting the stage direction of her nudity alter the action of the scene or the impact on the characters? Does it make my Mrs. Robinson more or less seductive, powerful or desperate? I don't think so. Would it be more shocking and intimate if I were standing naked in front of Jack Wefso as my Benjamin? Yes. But the real vulnerability would have happened between us, in rehearsal, long before the audience filed in. I'm sure there are many theaters in Aurora and in Glendale for that matter, where the nudity of the woman on stage would be critical to the quality of the show. I don't think that would apply in this case. Theatre ethics and theatrical risk aside, the real and most important question here is this: would the show receive more stars if I showed my tits?
Basically, disregarding the author's intent is equal to the actor not honoring the director's directorial notes, or the costume designer blowing off the agreed upon color palette, you get the idea. It says that you may have your job, but I know better. What if, for example, playing Mrs. Robinson I chose to take the same liberty and come out one evening stark naked? The hierarchy of theatre has always been skewed. We claim to serve the play and mouth that the playwright is king or queen, then make changes as suits our needs. Happens in film, happens in TV... where there's a writer, there's an editor. The line of demarcation here is in intent. Does deleting the stage direction of her nudity alter the action of the scene or the impact on the characters? Does it make my Mrs. Robinson more or less seductive, powerful or desperate? I don't think so. Would it be more shocking and intimate if I were standing naked in front of Jack Wefso as my Benjamin? Yes. But the real vulnerability would have happened between us, in rehearsal, long before the audience filed in. I'm sure there are many theaters in Aurora and in Glendale for that matter, where the nudity of the woman on stage would be critical to the quality of the show. I don't think that would apply in this case. Theatre ethics and theatrical risk aside, the real and most important question here is this: would the show receive more stars if I showed my tits?
Thursday, January 21, 2010
A COUGAR AND HER SPOTS
A COUGAR and HER SPOTS
I’m in rehearsal, which is usually no big thing, but this time it’s for the iconic role of Mrs. Robinson in the upcoming production of The Graduate. When the thirty-six year old Anne Bancroft signed on to play the role, I doubt she knew she’d let the cougar off the leash, but standing, silhouetted in the threshold of Benjamin’s doorway that’s exactly what she did. Like the ‘door slam heard round the world’, as Nora walked out of A Doll’s House, Mrs. Robinson flung open wide ‘the bedroom door that would not close’. Both characters changed the world’s perception of women but Bancroft’s portrait of female sexual power post-40 is a tall pair of stockings to fill.
The play blends the biting, beautiful humor of the Buck Henry screenplay and story elements from the original Charles Webb novel. These changes affect Mrs. Robinson most directly, and bring a keen balance of hope and bitterness to her character. Societal views have changed a lot since 1964, especially toward women. How will these script and perspective changes affect an audience so familiar with the only Mrs. R they’ve ever known? Is it possible for me to create an original performance from such an original character? We shall see… As I pack my script and notebook, heading east toward the theatre; I recall a fitting quote from Ms. Bancroft herself. "I am what I am because of what I am and if you like me I'm grateful, and if you don't, what am I going to do about it?"
---Here’s to you Mrs. Robinson.
THE GRADUATE February 12- March 14, 2010
Aurora Fox Theatre 9900 E Colfax Ave
6 miles east of the State Capitol in Aurora, Colorado.
Fri & Sat at 7:30, Sun at 2:00
For tickets call 303 739-1972 or visit www.aurorafox.org
I’m in rehearsal, which is usually no big thing, but this time it’s for the iconic role of Mrs. Robinson in the upcoming production of The Graduate. When the thirty-six year old Anne Bancroft signed on to play the role, I doubt she knew she’d let the cougar off the leash, but standing, silhouetted in the threshold of Benjamin’s doorway that’s exactly what she did. Like the ‘door slam heard round the world’, as Nora walked out of A Doll’s House, Mrs. Robinson flung open wide ‘the bedroom door that would not close’. Both characters changed the world’s perception of women but Bancroft’s portrait of female sexual power post-40 is a tall pair of stockings to fill.
The play blends the biting, beautiful humor of the Buck Henry screenplay and story elements from the original Charles Webb novel. These changes affect Mrs. Robinson most directly, and bring a keen balance of hope and bitterness to her character. Societal views have changed a lot since 1964, especially toward women. How will these script and perspective changes affect an audience so familiar with the only Mrs. R they’ve ever known? Is it possible for me to create an original performance from such an original character? We shall see… As I pack my script and notebook, heading east toward the theatre; I recall a fitting quote from Ms. Bancroft herself. "I am what I am because of what I am and if you like me I'm grateful, and if you don't, what am I going to do about it?"
---Here’s to you Mrs. Robinson.
THE GRADUATE February 12- March 14, 2010
Aurora Fox Theatre 9900 E Colfax Ave
6 miles east of the State Capitol in Aurora, Colorado.
Fri & Sat at 7:30, Sun at 2:00
For tickets call 303 739-1972 or visit www.aurorafox.org
Friday, January 15, 2010
Catastrophic Dreaming...
I don’t sleep well when there is a global catastrophe. It’s as if my psyche were in silent vigil for the living and dying who are struggling to find their way within the grip of nature’s fury. Images of bodies lying in the twisted rebar or washed up on broken, angry beaches, families standing on rain-soaked rooftops, children searching solo for anything familiar: they trouble me. They flood over airwaves as I sit, comfortably and uncomfortably, transfixed before my cable news network. I don’t want to watch. I don’t want to know, but my soul does. It does not forget for a second. My ventures into social media provide distraction; Amy’s daughter lost a tooth, Jeff got a job, theatre openings/closings, and plenty of go-team-go. Then there are the postings, the pleas for $10 worth of help, which makes me feel more helpless. All I can do is send a paltry sum? Will that get the planes there faster? Will that stop the voices crying out from inside the concrete rubble? The answer is yes. And…yes. That may be all I can do from the comfort of my uncomforted zone, but deep within my sleepless psyche there is work to be done.
I am heartened by the massive funds collected click-by-ten-buck-click, enraged by the perspicacious insights of the religiously insane. Treaties with France and pacts with Satan aside, the world is harsh and cruel and that will never change. When I see the film of Haitian people, who have never had much but have lost it all, grateful to be alive to live another day in poverty, I am brought to my knees, careful not to rip my jeans. (They cost me over half the yearly wages of the average Haitian.)
The problems of Haiti are long-standing and legendary. They will not be reversed in a day, or in a generation. The road of reconstruction is long and hard, the path of re-invention, harder. Like our native sons and daughters of New Orleans, the spotlight of their plight will shift, cameras turning toward the next true or false calamity, and they will be left alone together. What is left is the opportunity to rebuild, the responsibility to recreate, and that is to be shared by all with equal measure. We can send our money and our troops; we can send our prayers and some well-meaning group will be collecting teddy bears, for that is what we’re made of.
I lose sleep hoping that our fruitful steps in times of overwhelming crisis will not melt into meaningless gestures of remembrance once the parade has passed. While we commit to fund and rebuild Haiti, let us also fund the bank account of our humanity. Let’s call on it daily, putting forth our best before disaster strikes.
I am heartened by the massive funds collected click-by-ten-buck-click, enraged by the perspicacious insights of the religiously insane. Treaties with France and pacts with Satan aside, the world is harsh and cruel and that will never change. When I see the film of Haitian people, who have never had much but have lost it all, grateful to be alive to live another day in poverty, I am brought to my knees, careful not to rip my jeans. (They cost me over half the yearly wages of the average Haitian.)
The problems of Haiti are long-standing and legendary. They will not be reversed in a day, or in a generation. The road of reconstruction is long and hard, the path of re-invention, harder. Like our native sons and daughters of New Orleans, the spotlight of their plight will shift, cameras turning toward the next true or false calamity, and they will be left alone together. What is left is the opportunity to rebuild, the responsibility to recreate, and that is to be shared by all with equal measure. We can send our money and our troops; we can send our prayers and some well-meaning group will be collecting teddy bears, for that is what we’re made of.
I lose sleep hoping that our fruitful steps in times of overwhelming crisis will not melt into meaningless gestures of remembrance once the parade has passed. While we commit to fund and rebuild Haiti, let us also fund the bank account of our humanity. Let’s call on it daily, putting forth our best before disaster strikes.
Thursday, January 14, 2010
Thursday, September 3, 2009
THE TIME IS NOW FOLKS
For any of you who are still sitting on the fence or thinking that the market still hasn't hit bottom, check this out. All the signs are pointing to recovery, meaning this may be your last window to buy at bubble burst prices. Whether you are interested in a first time buyer situation, moving up to a larger home or creating a real estate investment portfolio, it is time to jump off of the fence! If you'd like further information or a real estate consultation please email me: tracy@thrivingartistalliance.com Meanwhile, take a look at the link below. This landed on the cover of yesterday's Wall Street Journal.
http://www.smartmoney.com/investing/stocks/it-is-time-to-invest-in-real-estate/
Best wishes for a safe and satisfying Labor Day Weekend!
Tracy Shaffer
Your Castle Real Estate
http://www.smartmoney.com/investing/stocks/it-is-time-to-invest-in-real-estate/
Best wishes for a safe and satisfying Labor Day Weekend!
Tracy Shaffer
Your Castle Real Estate
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