Because you can't take it back.
But if I don't at least try, I'll always dread blogging, because I'll get so caught up in what's appropriate.
After Friday's show, I was despondent. I thought the show was hopelessly flawed - that I had somehow made a drastic mistake. I got a fair amount of constructive criticism from friends - which didn't happen the first time around. This time, there was less overall shock factor, more analytical
critique I suppose. (Though come to think of it, I did get some detailed critiques when the show premeired at the Fertile Ground Festival, and they made me furious! I am less reactive now, more appreciative. But still anxious and somewhat apt to throw the baby out with the bathwater and assume that if one thing is off, the whole thing is compromised).
A dear friend I trust said (in a nutshell) "you were trying too hard." And that resonated. I so wanted to "reach the folks at the back" with my voice and presence, I think the people in the front got a little too much razzledazzle 'em. Jokes weren't landing. And the lack of response (ie laughs) made me suicidal.
But, I had three great experiences on Saturday.
I went to Forest park and sat by a creek and sobbed. Let out all the tension and anxiety and fear. Asked myself again why I sign up for this kind of thing - why do I put myself out there like this? When it has the potential to make me so vulnerable. And vulnerable in so many ways. Not just emotionally and creatively, but financially. I spend all my tip money producing.
I opened the file marked "manifesto" in my mind. The desire to create a piece that was empowering and erotic and authentic and theatrical. The desire to open hearts and minds.
And I thought about the open-mic after the show. How incredible it was - beyond my imagination - gay women and straight men, and bi women and leather daddies and grandmothers - all together in one room! Sharing their erotic imaginations with one another. How supportive and alive it felt. And having the crowd all joining in for MY Vagina is 8 Miles Wide from Storm large's beautiful show Crazy Enough. I was exactly where I wanted to be, doing exactly what I wanted to be doing. I was so proud of everyone. AND entertained!
So that helped. And then, I had a chat in my head with Anais Nin. She told me to stop feeling sorry for myself.
"You're an artist - go work on your art. Change what you think needs to be changed. And stop worrying about whether or not anyone is laughing. laughter isn't the only appreciative response. In fact, when it comes to sex, it's often the thing you least want to hear. Sex must be mixed with tears and laughter, words, promises, scenes, jealousy, envy, all the spices of fear, foreign travel, new faces, novels, stories, dreams, fantasies, music, dancing, opium, wine".
Something like that. It was a much needed reminder. People will experience this show differently. And this time around one of the goals was to get away from the "SNL skit" feel of it, as Brenda once described it. I needed to let go of the expectation that things are going to get the same kind of response they got the first time around, because we've crafted the show in a whole new way.
AND I get to keep working on it. (That was a much appreciated reminder from Tori as well - that the show is being workshopped. SOmetimes I get caught up in the old paradime of "Once a show opens, you have to do it the same way everytime." A lesson drilled into me in grad school and regional theatre. Not that you phone it in, you still make discoveries, you still try out different deliveries- but you always cross on the same line, you stand in your light, you say the same words EXACTLY as the playwright wrote them). And that is one of the beautiful gifts of self-producing. You CAN change stuff around, you can write a new line, you can scrap things that aren't working.
So for Saturday's show I tried a different approach. I was still feeling a fair amount of fear about my ability to be both authentic and entertaining. It is so easy when I am in front of an audience to go into my "Ethel Merman" shtick. Big and boisterous and perhaps a big showy. But then, as life sometimes confirms, when you are ready to learn the teacher appears.
My friend David showed up at 7:30 and I was doing the concessions. We chatted for a bit about his recent ordination, and I asked him specifically what he felt like his spiritual calling was. I can't remember his exact words, but in my memory it's something about staying present with the sacred, making that a daily practice, being in the moment, letting that be enough...I'm sure I'm paraphrasing terribly, and probably making a fair bit of it up, but it was so what I needed to hear in that moment. I almost started to cry in the lobby, and I asked him if he would hold my hand, just to ground me. Which he did, and it worked just like I thought it would. (He's a holy one, that David).
So the show on Saturday felt much more fluid and well, grounded. Less frenetic. I worried less about the laughs, and ended up getting more. Sometimes, not always. And that was ok too. I played around in Watsu (the piece I do about getting a water massage). I took it to an extreme I haven't tried before - and it was such fun.
I also tried to let go of my anxiety about the success of the open-mic on opening night being a fluke, the magic impossible to re-create. I'd stacked the deck a bit on opening night - inviting Jennifer Lanier, Andrea White, and my friend Janea - beautiful performers I could count on to step to the plate. Not to mention Tori and Emily from the original cast - who both had polished their pieces to a fine-tuned performance.
Saturday I had two people signed up at the beginning of the night.
And then one of them texted me at 7:45 to cancel.
I figured I would just cancel the whole experiment- for the evening, if not the whole run. I tried to be philisophical - I can only provide the opportunity, I can't force people to share themselves in this way, if they're just not ready, or interested.
But when I turned around, 5 more people had signed up.
My friend David got up and did a piece that he created in the moment- about allowing your entire body to be your gentials, and always being receptive to the universe turning you on (again, I can't do David justice - trust me in that it was powerful and profound). Others did Hafiz, and graphic and gripping original poems, and off the cuff story about hitchhiking while horny. Again a wide variety of different kinds are shares, and people sharing.
Again, I was humbled by the courage people showed in performing, and the generosity of the audience in sticking around to witness, and help create such a supportive container.
I received the healing I asked for. From the trees and the earth, but also from the experience of doing the show, and remembering all the things I love about it. What an honor it is to share the stage with Tonya and Mary And Adrienna. The adventure we have ahead of us.
The opportunity to create a piece of art that other people actually come to see. awesome.
Oh, and there's a pretty good review in the Oregonian.
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