Top Five of 2008

After yesterday's post I thought it only fair that I list my top five of 2008, but then I couldn't limit myself to just five because they were all so different, though I did refrain from including anything I worked on (becuase that wouldn't be fair!).

So here are the SIX shows I saw that deepened my appreciation for theatre in 2008, and what it was about each of them that stuck out:

Corteo (Cirque du Soliel)
My first ever Cirque show. The decadence on stage for only a moment of time. Spectacle to the greatest degree, and yet not hollow entertainment. I was so enthralled with what was going on that I couldn't applaud each act, for fear of missing a part of the next. It gave me a new appreciation for the possibility of what theatre is capable of with large budgets & new ways of storytelling.

Jake's Gift (Juno Productions & The Cultch)
The opposite end of the spectrum from Cirque: just a bench and a table on an otherwise empty stage. But the characters! Julia Mackey has created such a lovely pair of characters whose lives are woven together with such care. I sat in my seat with tears streaming down my face. To have characters that one can invest in so deeply is a marvelous thing.

The Tempest (Bard on the Beach)
What a feast for the senses. With a stunning cast, Meg Rowe's first attempt at directing was lovely. She had fantastic material to work with, but the decision to make Trinculo & Stephano women was richly funny. The Shakespearean language is always so rich, but this production really came alive for me.

Unity: 1918 (Theatre at UBC)
I've already raved a bit about this show here, but what I loved about it was the way it used design to help tell the story. With what appeared to be a very simplistic set, beautiful images were created that were individually poetic, but within the greater story they were stunning. It wasn't the strongestly acted student show I saw this year, but it had very strong direction.

No Exit (Electric Company & Virtual Stage)
One of the most unique uses of space & technology I have seen in theatre. Locking the actors in a small room and allowing the audience to watch them voyeristically on huge screens gave a whole new sense of the Hell that Sartre was intending.

The Space Between (Circa)
A cross between dance & theatre, this movement in this show made me re-examine the beauty of the human body. There was no set, just a blank stage, but the images that the performers created through their movements were strong & evokative.

This list certainly reflects my bias towards shows with strong images, but it also leans towards the fact that I love theatre that does what only theatre can do (something I picked up from some wise friends). The thing about all of these shows, despite their differences in budget, cast size, plot, theme, etc was that I left the theatre each time, feeling like my soul had been refilled. As though I had just discovered something new. And remembered that ultimately, theatre is about the relationship between the audience and the performers & we are each changed by what we collectively experience.

Manifesto on Creating

(Photo by Tristan Brand)

Context: In my first year of university after a one of my first crew calls, I had this real sense of calling to the arts, but I didn't know what that looked like. That night, I wrote in my journal, and what I wrote (with a few edits over the years) has become something of a personal manifesto for me: something that shapes the way I look at the world. At faith. At art. At my relationship to all of those things. And I still don't know where I'm headed, at least not in any concrete sort of way. But I'm certainly enjoying the journey.

I was born to create something. I don't know yet what I am going to be creating, but I know that God has something great planned for me. As a child I wanted to be so many things when I grew up. I wanted to be a nurse, a teacher, a candy store owner, a dancer, a musician, an actress and so many more things. Today I don't know what I will grow up to be, but I know what I will do. I will create. I don't know how I could not create. I think that if I were to stop creating, a part of me would die. To create is to imitate God: a high form of flattery as the saying goes. How could I not create? Creating is my worship. It may not be through music, or prayer, or any other conventional means of worship, but I am worshiping from a part of me that is unique. I am not singing someone else's song. I'm dancing to the beat of my own drummer and I am creating a beautiful dance between me and God.

Would you care to dance?

Feed the Lake

Back in early September, my friend Angela wrote a blog post following her attendance at Bard's production of The Tempest. In it she talks about learning that there is no point in jealousy becuase when one artist succeeds we all end up winning. She said:

The problem is, I have a degree in directing and I've been doing it for a long time but I don't know that I could create a work this accomplished. So for part of the performance I was torn between admiration and dejection - "wow this is really good/wow that's really depressing" -something like that... But when a truly gifted artist creates a work for others to share, we get the present. My life was enriched by the production I saw tonight and as a result, my work will be enriched.

It was a sentiment she echoed after she and I attended Unity: 1918 a couple of weeks back.

But further in the post she talks about an image that appears in Madeline L'Engle's Walking on Water: Reflections on Faith & Art (which is, by the way, one of my top arts reads, regardless of faith orientation. L'Engle was the talented writer behind A Wrinkle in Time.). She discusses an analogy drawn by Jean Rhys in which art is a lake and the artists of the world are various sizes of rivers, streams, & trickles.

She quotes Rhys as saying

"I don't matter. The lake matters. You must keep feeding the lake."

I love that image. The idea that all of art is this giant lake (actually I'd like to jump in and bathe in it - let it soak into my soul!), and that regardless of the size of our contribute we must continue to feed the lake.

Often, as a Stage Manager, I forget that I am also responsible for feeding the lake. I want to leave that role to the directors, actors & designers whose work is so clearly art. But creating a space in which it is possible for those artists to produce (and even better: to thrive!) is an art all its own, and I need to remember that when I get down about my role in the process.

Feed. The. Lake.

(Edited by SMLois, Dec. 3, 11:15pm)