The Summer Doldrums

I have been racking my brain, trying to think of something profound and meaningful to write on. Much of what I have been contemplating I have covered before. For instance, yet another person--a man--commented that it was unfortunate that my initials make it so that I'm "Mr. Toomey." This, after looking through my portfolio, which presumably I had control over whether or not to be "MR Toomey" or "Margaret R Toomey" or whatever, and yet seemed to think that I was blind to this choice. So very infuriating, on so very many levels given my relationship to this gentleman. (I speak more on this topic in my first post.)

Also, I have been feeling the anxiety over what happens next after I graduate in May. Though the big day is still 10 months away, I can't help but feel distraught at the crossroads I am facing. Do I follow my heart and make a move to a community that I want to live in for a while, even if there isn't the perfect job lined up there? Or do I make a wise career move and ingratiate myself to someone who will take me on as an apprentice and continue to live a gypsy's life? The second option is specifically wrapped up in a pipe dream I have to shadow the wonderful Anita Stewart at Portland Stage. There is a grant I could apply for to fund my work with her, but I can't even bring myself to ask if this is something she would be interested in, let alone applying because I can't stand having yet another expiration date on a part of my life.

This choice between career and, well, not-career was easy once-upon-a-time when "not-career" was synonymous with "family." Without getting into the details of the last 10 months of my life (though most of you probably know about it anyway), it was much easier to decide that career came second when I thought I was making a decision against it for the ideal of family. Now that I am unencumbered by that in my immediate future, I feel stupid for not taking the risk of moving around as much as I need to to make the connections I need in order to fulfill my dreams in theatre. In some ways, having a partner to make decisions about where life will take you is the most difficult thing you could ever face, but on the other hand it would make things easier... I could just blame him for ruining my dreams. Ha ha.

What all of this--my moniker, my future, etc--boils down to is that I have hit one of the valleys in the emotional roller coaster that is a career in theatre. I need a project to be passionate about, that excites me, that makes me see why I would bleed myself dry, make ridiculous geographic decisions, and shun personal happiness for this crazy art form. These kinds of moods come around for me like clock-work, especially in the summer when the seasons have ended and everyone else is, rightfully so, taking a break before getting pumped up about the upcoming season. In a few weeks people will begin to trickle back onto the UNCG campus, Oklahoma will start getting built, and, perhaps, I will be sucked back into the joy (rather than the anxiety) of putting together another show. Perhaps, too, I will send Anita an e mail and just see if there really is anything worth worrying about in potentially moving back to Maine next year.

Lady... Sing Me... Over Home

Photograph by VanderVeen Photographers, courtesy Triad Stage

I have just returned from watching the closing performance of Triad Stage's Providence Gap. Another beautiful, heart-wrenching performance, which I won't wax poetic about, at least not too specifically.

The final moment of the play, which is, rightfully so, a teary-eyed moment as Chance is reunited with his love, was exceptionally poignant this afternoon as the actors prepared to bid farewell to the show. As Laurelyn Dossett, the talented musician who wrote and performed the music of the original piece played her way across stage in the final moments, her voice cracked and the staggering emotions that bringing to life a piece of this nature and sharing it with an audience was written across her face. As the cast took their bow, tears streamed down many of their faces as the audience stood in ovation.

The magic of theatre is not reserved for the tricks that we pull out of our sleeves and from our fly lofts to create a new world for the audience. But it also includes the transportation of the artists who have invested their souls into a piece. Not every production on stage moves the audience, and even less move the artists. But there are these rare shows that break your heart as the final curtain call is taken, like saying good-bye to a friend who you doubt you will ever see again. As sad as those moments are, these are the productions we are looking for.

I remember a production of Lynn Nottage's Intimate Apparel which I helped with at Portland Stage Co. in Maine. I was on the run crew and so only saw the show from the wings. But I believed so much in the story being told and enjoyed the artists who had come together to tell it, that I feel, to this day, it is one of the most important performances I have bared witness to. And everynight, there was a scene that made me cry and all I heard were the actor's voices carrying over the flats to where I sat, waiting for the next scene change.

The magic of productions such as Intimate Apparel and Providence Gap is rare, but for me is like finding home again. I have been a wanderer for much of my young life, yet the theatre has consistently made me feel rooted. Unfortunately, not every theater company or production has the right chemistry, and in those cases I have moved on, searching for the magic I found in high school, at Grinnell, and in Portland. As an audience member, Triad has enveloped me in the heartbreak of home, especially with Providence Gap, but I know that I am still looking for my artistic home. And while I hope that I find it, I must heed the mountain woman's words to not "look too hard" as it isn't a place that can be found by lookin'.