I've been running an annual poetry challenge over at my blog for the Minnesota Fringe, wherein interested companies can send me a sonnet written to a set of insanely complicated rules (terza rima this year) if they want me to cover their shows. I've been a big believer in not taking advantage of that space to plug my own Fringe show, but I've been critiquing so much of other people's poetry that it seems only sporting to allow them to take a crack at mine. So, without any further ado, a sonnet promoting my own show:
Faded descendant of a noble line,
his life defined by his duality
of Western coarseness, Eastern blood so fine,
he plunges into ancient history
accompanied by others, yet alone,
unique in his genetic alchemy.
In Canada, a Buddhist talks of bones;
In Fiji, tombs conceal a mystery
beneath blue tile, granite, dirt, and stone;
New Zealand harbors filial secrecy,
and China -- here our cranky hero blunders
to battle a grotesque bureaucracy.
Amidst his doubt and toil, still he wonders
if somewhere in his blood -- a dragon thunders.
Thursday, July 26, 2007
Wednesday, July 25, 2007
Scrimshaw Preview
Did a brief preview for my show Monday night before Joe Scrimshaw's weekly interactive comedy show Adventures in Mating -- was the third of three Fringe previews, who I'll do the favor of not mentioning here, since I was too busy freaking out to really give them the attention they deserve.
First set I've done for this show that I really felt dissatisfied with -- I made the mistake that I so frequently do, which is that I ambitiously chose too much material for the limited time slot and ended up barrelling through most of it. It would have been better for me to select less and really try to cultivate a relationship with the audience.
Actually, I ad-libbed most of it -- I opened by riffing on Iowa (I can't believe that simply naming the town you happen to be in at the time actually works as an applause line, by the way) and Harry Potter (the fact that obtaining a copy earlier that day had prevented me from doing any work on my show). If this show's done anything for me, it's really helped me develop a lot more comfort with my audience -- as the most personal and least theatrical thing I've done. There's a time in my life I couldn't have imagined going on stage without exhaustive rehearsal, but I've written both of my Minnesota Fringe previews the day of performing them, and they've both been significantly better because of it.
I was concerned about memorizing my lines (I was working on-book while I was in Iowa), but I'm surprised to note that I've already done it -- there's a way that pieces you've performed on stage get burned into your brain. My problem right now is that they aren't *quick* -- I find myself stammering a lot, losing my place and taking a few seconds to find it -- but I've got a week left to nail 'em down.
First set I've done for this show that I really felt dissatisfied with -- I made the mistake that I so frequently do, which is that I ambitiously chose too much material for the limited time slot and ended up barrelling through most of it. It would have been better for me to select less and really try to cultivate a relationship with the audience.
Actually, I ad-libbed most of it -- I opened by riffing on Iowa (I can't believe that simply naming the town you happen to be in at the time actually works as an applause line, by the way) and Harry Potter (the fact that obtaining a copy earlier that day had prevented me from doing any work on my show). If this show's done anything for me, it's really helped me develop a lot more comfort with my audience -- as the most personal and least theatrical thing I've done. There's a time in my life I couldn't have imagined going on stage without exhaustive rehearsal, but I've written both of my Minnesota Fringe previews the day of performing them, and they've both been significantly better because of it.
I was concerned about memorizing my lines (I was working on-book while I was in Iowa), but I'm surprised to note that I've already done it -- there's a way that pieces you've performed on stage get burned into your brain. My problem right now is that they aren't *quick* -- I find myself stammering a lot, losing my place and taking a few seconds to find it -- but I've got a week left to nail 'em down.
Monday, July 23, 2007
Reflections on Iowa
Had nine people in the audience yesterday -- that's four performances of three, three, nine, and nine, bringing me to a grand total of twenty-four. Hardly auspicious, but the tour's served its function, which is to start transforming the show from a *reading* into a *performance*.
I've written previously about my struggle with complex sentence structures, and even though that rapid-fire delivery has become something of a calling card for my shows, the main work I've done on this tour is simplifying my delivery. One of the main issues that my editors jumped on was my fondness for "soft punches" -- to deliver a punchline, then immediately undercut it with another punchline. That kind of reflexive, self-deprecating humor is a big part of what the show's all about, but it plays weak on stage, and I've been chopping away at it.
I've always been finding that there's many parts of the script in which punchlines can be entirely replaced by expression or gesture -- and I find it ironic that, even though this is the least physical show I've ever done, reviews have still been commenting on the physicality of my performance.
---
So the Festival's done, and sure, it was both disorganized and critically understaffed -- I received my venue assignment late, never got a tech, did at least one performance with *no* volunteers or staff on hand -- but I can't think of the last time I had this much fun.
The out-of-towners have always been cloaked in mystery, appearing and disappearing softly and suddenly with flickers of genius, the rock stars of the Fringe circuit. Having the opportunity to be around them for a week has been one the coolest, most exciting times of my life since -- well, since last year's Fringe.
Make sure to check some of 'em out in Minneapolis this August. They deserve it -- and we deserve them, too.
I'm off to perform in another preview, as part of Joe Scrimshaw's show at the Bryant-Lake Bowl. Feel free to swing by and say hi. If I can tear myself away from this for long enough to actually work on the preview, that is.
I've written previously about my struggle with complex sentence structures, and even though that rapid-fire delivery has become something of a calling card for my shows, the main work I've done on this tour is simplifying my delivery. One of the main issues that my editors jumped on was my fondness for "soft punches" -- to deliver a punchline, then immediately undercut it with another punchline. That kind of reflexive, self-deprecating humor is a big part of what the show's all about, but it plays weak on stage, and I've been chopping away at it.
I've always been finding that there's many parts of the script in which punchlines can be entirely replaced by expression or gesture -- and I find it ironic that, even though this is the least physical show I've ever done, reviews have still been commenting on the physicality of my performance.
---
So the Festival's done, and sure, it was both disorganized and critically understaffed -- I received my venue assignment late, never got a tech, did at least one performance with *no* volunteers or staff on hand -- but I can't think of the last time I had this much fun.
The out-of-towners have always been cloaked in mystery, appearing and disappearing softly and suddenly with flickers of genius, the rock stars of the Fringe circuit. Having the opportunity to be around them for a week has been one the coolest, most exciting times of my life since -- well, since last year's Fringe.
Make sure to check some of 'em out in Minneapolis this August. They deserve it -- and we deserve them, too.
I'm off to perform in another preview, as part of Joe Scrimshaw's show at the Bryant-Lake Bowl. Feel free to swing by and say hi. If I can tear myself away from this for long enough to actually work on the preview, that is.
Sunday, July 22, 2007
Coming to a Close
The show today went significantly better -- I managed to triple my audience, bringing it to a grand total of nine. The audience consisted largely of other artists, which is always fun to play -- they get all of the geeky references and narrative tricks.
Did the whole weird high-school thing that seems to be a hallmark of out-of-town Fringing -- "Have you heard there's a party at this guy's house? Yeah, spread the word!" and spent the evening with the cast of Knuckleball, as well as trading angst with the writer and actor of Pigeon Man Apocalypse.
Just so exhausted. Really snapping into Fringe mode now, seeing tons of shows and all of my energy going to reviewing them. One more day of this nonsense before I'm back in Minneapolis.
Did the whole weird high-school thing that seems to be a hallmark of out-of-town Fringing -- "Have you heard there's a party at this guy's house? Yeah, spread the word!" and spent the evening with the cast of Knuckleball, as well as trading angst with the writer and actor of Pigeon Man Apocalypse.
Just so exhausted. Really snapping into Fringe mode now, seeing tons of shows and all of my energy going to reviewing them. One more day of this nonsense before I'm back in Minneapolis.
Saturday, July 21, 2007
Quarter-Life Crisis
One of the stranger side-effects of the spread of internet culture is the fact that, thanks to any number of myspace/ringo/facebook memberships, my twenty-fifth birthday is now public knowledge. (I've even gotten automated messages from online dating services, offering congratulations from "the team." Uh, thanks.) In any case, this means that I am now able to officially begin my quarter-life crisis, as opposed to the 4/25 crisis of last year, or the 23/100 crisis of the year before that. As if I needed permission.
---
Had a preview at a coffee shop early in the evening (I nearly said "early in the day," since I'm on Fringe schedule now, which means working all night and sleeping all day), which basically ended up being a bunch of artists entertaining each other -- which I'm totally fine with! Most likely the largest audience I'll end up playing this month. It was sort of barely organized, half-MC'd by the Festival director, with a bunch of us impulsively leaping onto the stage and performing pretty much whenever the hell we felt like it.
Y'know, the Minnesota Fringe is large enough -- and has been around long enough -- that, a few glitches excepted, for the most part it chugs along pretty much like clockwork. (At least, from the artist's perspective -- I'm sure it seems much more chaotic than that backstage.) But I'm really falling in love with this scrappy little festival, the last-minute wild ideas that just sort of *happen*. It's fun to be getting my foot in the door here, and I'm looking forward to returning.
My only real regret is that the run is so *short* -- I've made a point of not bringing up the Festival to the locals, just asking "Is there anything going on in terms of theatre here?" And they always think for a minute and say "Well, there's Spamalot..."
Nobody knows what the Fringe *is* yet, but they're always interested once they find out. Give me a week and I can drum up some interest. I don't know how to do that in four days.
---
Had another audience of three people tonight (was nearly two, but a friend from Minneapolis surprised me by driving down to catch the show) -- which is apparently kicking ass and taking names, from talking to the other out-of-towners. A number of other performers have had to cancel shows entirely due to nobody showing up.
After my first run-through with an audience yesterday, I'm starting to relax with the material, simplify some of my punchlines, replacing words with gestures and expressions in a few places -- growing more comfortable with the story, at any rate. Hopefully I'll have this down to a science by the time I hit the Mini Apple again.
---
Closed out the evening with a recption at the hotel, which naturally led to my becoming obnoxiously drunk. Took the opportunity to get out as many postcards as I could, since it's becoming rapidly obvious that I've printed more cards than the total population of Des Moines.
---
Had a preview at a coffee shop early in the evening (I nearly said "early in the day," since I'm on Fringe schedule now, which means working all night and sleeping all day), which basically ended up being a bunch of artists entertaining each other -- which I'm totally fine with! Most likely the largest audience I'll end up playing this month. It was sort of barely organized, half-MC'd by the Festival director, with a bunch of us impulsively leaping onto the stage and performing pretty much whenever the hell we felt like it.
Y'know, the Minnesota Fringe is large enough -- and has been around long enough -- that, a few glitches excepted, for the most part it chugs along pretty much like clockwork. (At least, from the artist's perspective -- I'm sure it seems much more chaotic than that backstage.) But I'm really falling in love with this scrappy little festival, the last-minute wild ideas that just sort of *happen*. It's fun to be getting my foot in the door here, and I'm looking forward to returning.
My only real regret is that the run is so *short* -- I've made a point of not bringing up the Festival to the locals, just asking "Is there anything going on in terms of theatre here?" And they always think for a minute and say "Well, there's Spamalot..."
Nobody knows what the Fringe *is* yet, but they're always interested once they find out. Give me a week and I can drum up some interest. I don't know how to do that in four days.
---
Had another audience of three people tonight (was nearly two, but a friend from Minneapolis surprised me by driving down to catch the show) -- which is apparently kicking ass and taking names, from talking to the other out-of-towners. A number of other performers have had to cancel shows entirely due to nobody showing up.
After my first run-through with an audience yesterday, I'm starting to relax with the material, simplify some of my punchlines, replacing words with gestures and expressions in a few places -- growing more comfortable with the story, at any rate. Hopefully I'll have this down to a science by the time I hit the Mini Apple again.
---
Closed out the evening with a recption at the hotel, which naturally led to my becoming obnoxiously drunk. Took the opportunity to get out as many postcards as I could, since it's becoming rapidly obvious that I've printed more cards than the total population of Des Moines.
Thursday, July 19, 2007
Notes from Des Moines
Managed to hook up with Carl Franzen in the afternoon to put up posters. Found a few decent, receptive areas, only to discover that a number of businesses in the area don't open until 4pm. My observation last night being that everything closes at 8pm, this leaves a remarkably short window of time for anything to take place.
---
Never did get a tech person -- I'm still uncertain whether this is because my assigned tech person wimped out on me, or because I was never assigned a tech in the first place. The TD basically sat me down in front of the light/sound board and told me I was free to poke around. I'm not a skilled tech, but I've been in show business long enough to be able to operate a simple board. No matter; after a brief round of vomiting in the library's restroom, I was able to draft one of my ticket-takers to run my sound cues for me.
---
My very first Fringe show, I had a grand total of three people in the audience. In the intervening years, I've been able to gradually build an audience, and that's not an ordeal I've had to go through since.
So how many people did I have in the audience? A grand total of -- you guessed it -- three. This is definitely the downside of touring -- that there's a sense in which I'm starting over from scratch, and that experience is somewhat depressing.
---
The audience was receptive, however, and I had fun with them. One of the major *upsides* of touring is the fact that, locally, people have come to know what to expect from me. Out here, I'm re-introducing myself to an audience all over again, that's just oodles of fun.
One woman in particular I shared a very nice conversation with -- she's the adopted mother of several Chinese children, and found a lot of resonance in what I was saying to her own experience. One of the things I love about storytelling isn't sharing my *own* experiences, but the fact that doing so seems to give me access to the experiences of others.
---
The other upside of touring -- and, for me, possibly the biggest one -- is the opportunity to shoot the shit with other artists. Those who make it onto the road always seem to have the most interesting experiences, and I'm eager to soak up everything I can like a sponge.
Did a spot of bar-hopping, too, in a desperate attempt to track down food -- every time we asked one of the locals if there was a restaraunt still open at 11pm, we were met with a torrent of Errol-Flynn-like belly-laughs. Managed to find a bar that was willing to whip up some appetizers, only to have them kick us out at midnight. Midnight! On a Thursday night. It's like being back in Rochester all over again.
---
Never did get a tech person -- I'm still uncertain whether this is because my assigned tech person wimped out on me, or because I was never assigned a tech in the first place. The TD basically sat me down in front of the light/sound board and told me I was free to poke around. I'm not a skilled tech, but I've been in show business long enough to be able to operate a simple board. No matter; after a brief round of vomiting in the library's restroom, I was able to draft one of my ticket-takers to run my sound cues for me.
---
My very first Fringe show, I had a grand total of three people in the audience. In the intervening years, I've been able to gradually build an audience, and that's not an ordeal I've had to go through since.
So how many people did I have in the audience? A grand total of -- you guessed it -- three. This is definitely the downside of touring -- that there's a sense in which I'm starting over from scratch, and that experience is somewhat depressing.
---
The audience was receptive, however, and I had fun with them. One of the major *upsides* of touring is the fact that, locally, people have come to know what to expect from me. Out here, I'm re-introducing myself to an audience all over again, that's just oodles of fun.
One woman in particular I shared a very nice conversation with -- she's the adopted mother of several Chinese children, and found a lot of resonance in what I was saying to her own experience. One of the things I love about storytelling isn't sharing my *own* experiences, but the fact that doing so seems to give me access to the experiences of others.
---
The other upside of touring -- and, for me, possibly the biggest one -- is the opportunity to shoot the shit with other artists. Those who make it onto the road always seem to have the most interesting experiences, and I'm eager to soak up everything I can like a sponge.
Did a spot of bar-hopping, too, in a desperate attempt to track down food -- every time we asked one of the locals if there was a restaraunt still open at 11pm, we were met with a torrent of Errol-Flynn-like belly-laughs. Managed to find a bar that was willing to whip up some appetizers, only to have them kick us out at midnight. Midnight! On a Thursday night. It's like being back in Rochester all over again.
Wednesday, July 18, 2007
Schmotel
Arrived at the hotel. Must have been the odd one out or something, because I managed to get a room all to myself. And what a room -- Jesus, 66 channels and free wireless. That's better than I get at my apartment.
My performing space is respectable, as well -- far from the stack of books I was dreading, it's actually quite spacious. Put up a few posters in areas recommended by the Festival director and got back to my car just in time to keep it from being towed. Seriously, the guy had it hooked up and was in the process of loading it into his truck. Major suckage.
I have a number of other things to take care of before opening the show tomorrow night, but I'm not going to. My reason is this: when we opened our first show, I set a strict deadline for myself -- everything would be done two days before the performance, no matter what. My logic was that I would then be able to kick back and relax, spend the day refining whatever still needed to be worked on.
What actually happened is I got everything done early, kicked back -- and realized I had nothing to do but sit around and anticipate the opening. Forty-eight hours of raw panic ensued. I have since learned to leave a few select items to the last minute, to give myself something to worry about other than the performance.
My panicking for *that* doesn't get to start until I hit the stage.
My performing space is respectable, as well -- far from the stack of books I was dreading, it's actually quite spacious. Put up a few posters in areas recommended by the Festival director and got back to my car just in time to keep it from being towed. Seriously, the guy had it hooked up and was in the process of loading it into his truck. Major suckage.
I have a number of other things to take care of before opening the show tomorrow night, but I'm not going to. My reason is this: when we opened our first show, I set a strict deadline for myself -- everything would be done two days before the performance, no matter what. My logic was that I would then be able to kick back and relax, spend the day refining whatever still needed to be worked on.
What actually happened is I got everything done early, kicked back -- and realized I had nothing to do but sit around and anticipate the opening. Forty-eight hours of raw panic ensued. I have since learned to leave a few select items to the last minute, to give myself something to worry about other than the performance.
My panicking for *that* doesn't get to start until I hit the stage.
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