I resumed my work today at Dixon Place with director Eva Burgess. It's extraordinary. Just the walk downtown from my apartment in the East Village was harrowing. It was a hot, muggy, stifling day in New York City. And there is so much construction going on on the Bowery that you can hardly hear yourself think. Everywhere you look there are trucks and scaffolding and cranes and noise. The Bowery has become the new chic part of the city, and is home to some of the most expensive real estate. Go figure. When I first moved here in the early 80's the Bowery was, well...the Bowery. Times change.
But it was exciting to be going to rehearsal nonetheless. I'm simply astonished by Eva. She carries Sabina, her 4 week old baby, with her into rehearsal like it's nothing. There's something about that new life in the room that is completely awe-inspiring. It seems like the most natural thing in the world to have this completely fresh life in the room. So much fertility. So much possibility. So much responsibility. But Eva is all about the work. Never mind the baby. What are we doing today?
But there are points in any process where everyone just needs to stop and take a breath. Today was the breath we've been needing.
We're developing a new work that takes some of its subject matter from Peyton Place, the 1956 blockbuster novel by Grace Metalious. I chose this story because of its small-town setting, its literary daring, and the iconic place it assumed in the lexicon of Americana at the end of the 20th Century. I also chose it for the story of incest that is revealed in the novel. In telling the story of Serena Cross - a high school girl who bludgeons her step-father to death after repeatedly molesting her - I am hoping to tell my own story. (Don't worry. I never bludgeoned anyone to death!)
But what we're attempting is much more than just re-telling an old story. It involves moving into new emotional and artistic terrain for me. I think more than at any other time in my life, I'm finally challenging myself to bring the most painful parts of my life into my work. It's terrifying. And the thought that constantly surfaces is - is this interesting? Is this worth telling? Is this theatrical and worth exploring? I do not imagine doing any kind of a "bio-pic". I think the facts of any past event are not nearly as interesting as the feelings they stir in the present. It's a matter of finding the right tone for the piece: empathy, humor, theatricality, expression.
So today was one of those days where we needed to just sit and begin to tell the story. My story. The "elephant in the room". Because we need to be on the same page. Eva needs to know where I'm coming from. We need to move through the literal to arrive at the universal. And it wasn't so hard. We're building trust. Little by little. One day at a time. Allowing the process to happen rather than forcing an idea onto the stage. Every time we're together I gain more and more trust in Eva, as an artist and as a friend.
This is a journal of our rehearsals, a diary of our progression. I think it's important to just say that working isn't always working - moving around, making things up, being brilliant. Sometimes its just sitting and talking to each other. This is the process too. Thank you, Eva. And thank you dear reader, if you've gotten this far. More to come, I'm sure.
W. M.
