An Actor Prepares [for Medea]

CONGRESS IN SESSION

Medea is a role actresses wait their entire careers for. I am playing her at 23. It is quite the undertaking.

I have no equal parallel in my own life to what Medea goes through. But I have experienced the emotions - loss and love, hate and hope, anger and ardor. What makes her human is that she lives always between these contrasts and that is where I will find her.

The beauty of the way we are working on this project is that I do not need to recall sad memories to play this character truthfully. I need only to rely on the intricate text, to push it, analyze it, live in the sound of the words and the emotions will come.

We are using an approach, a system, very new to me on this production. I am like a recent convert to this way of working. It inspires and excites me and I have put all of my stock in it. But I also go through moments of doubt and frustration. I just have to trust it.

It is first and foremost about the text. Everything - character, emotions, honesty - will come from the form. Ryan Emmons, our fearless director, had me read Peter Hall’s Shakespeare’s Advice to the Players.

• "First comes the form and second comes the feeling."
• "Here is the paradox: by hiding the feeling you reveal it, by not indulging it, you express it. This is the contradiction of all great acting."
• "Shakespeare’s text is a complex score that demands to be read as a piece of music, learned like the steps of a dance, or practiced like the strokes of a duel."

Shakespeare may not have written Medea, but we are working with a finely crafted, rhetorical, verse play. Sir Peter has made me hyper-attuned to the sound of words. I dig at the script searching for antithesis, monosyllabic lines, onomatopoeia, and repeated sounds. To this I add the wisdom of Michael Chekhov (I’m currently reading his Lessons for the Professional Actor)

• "Whatever we are going to experience on the stage - even if it is terribly heavy and uneasy - the impressions that it is terribly heavy must be given, but how it is produced must be artistically light and easy always."

For me, at this moment, Medea is not a woman who kills her children. She is a woman in pain. She must sing though she only talks, dance though she only walks.

My mind is very full of ideas at the moment. It is excitingly overwhelming.

Written by Julie Congress

An Informative, Bulleted List

CONGRESS IN SESSION

We’ve learned a lot in the past year and a half here at No.11 Productions. Here is my short list of things we’ve learned from experience, both good and bad. I hope it can be helpful to people in the industry (particularly those just starting out) as well as informative for those not in the world of theatre.

• Keep setting your goals higher and higher. In theatre, and in life.
• Festivals are your best friend when you are starting out! Some of our best (and most lucrative) experiences have been doing the FringeNYC, FRIGID New York, Capital Fringe Festival, and SaratogaArtsFest. A festival comes with a built in audience, and does some of the hardest advertising for you. It’s also WAY cheaper than renting out a space.
• Always get a recommendation! Whenever you are renting a new space, working with a new actor, etc.
• Even though you may not be paying your actors, don’t feel like you are inconveniencing them. Your cast and crew may be pro bono, but you are still giving them a gift – the chance to do what they love.
• Going hand in hand with that, be prepared for heartbreak. A close friend and brilliant actor in your show may get a paying gig and leave you to do it, even though he/she knows it’s an inferior production. It happens. You have to get over it and move on and hope that one day soon you’ll be big and important and able to pay them what they deserve.
• The internet is your friend. We’re still learning and working on that. Find us now on Twitter!
• Personally, I would much rather work with someone who was good to work with and I enjoyed collaborating with than someone who was more talented but harder to deal with. Especially when you’re rehearsing in someone’s apartment, after an eight hour work day.
• Read a play before you agree to produce it.
• Do both big and small projects. Follow your interests, see where it leads you.
• Don’t rush! This was the hardest lesson for us to learn. We were VERY prolific our first 15 months. But now we’re working on what is undoubtedly our most ambitious, best production to date and it’s because we have TIME.
• Be super careful when it comes to contracts. Don’t let yourself be rushed or bullied into signing something until you are sure it’s right for you.
• Befriend other companies of your size. It’s not a competition.
• SEE THEATRE (and art and dance and read and be an open-minded citizen of the world).

Written by Julie Congress

Directing a Musical

CONGRESS IN SESSION

I am directing No.11’s first musical right now – The Elephant Man. We open in two weeks. The thing is – I’ve never directed a musical by myself before.

Musicals are an odd beast. People talk and walk around like normal and then WHAM! suddenly they’re singing. Singing and dancing serve no evolutionary function, to my knowledge, and yet, we all do it. And we enjoy watching and listening to other people do it. And The Elephant Man – The Musical is a celebration of this.

Going through the script, I have to decide what songs are “staged” and what are “choreographed”. Songs that are choreographed I have my brilliant Choreographer Simon Gunner create. Numbers and scenes that are staged, I wrangle with. But, outside of the delegation, what does it mean? No offense, dictionary.com, but you weren’t much help:

Staged–adjective
1. adapted for or produced on the stage.
2. contrived for a desired impression: It was a staged, rather than spontaneous, demonstration of affection.
3. occurring or planned to occur in stages: a staged increase in wages.

Choreograph–verb (used with object)
1. to provide the choreography for: to choreograph a musical comedy.
2. to manage, maneuver, or direct: The author is a genius at choreographing a large cast of characters.

I feel like I am doing both of these things when I direct and the line between dance and movement is blurry to me. And the fact of the matter is we have a very short rehearsal process for this show. So my choreographer can only do three dances. What do I do? More to the point, what do I have my actors do while they are singing? I know they need to be moving, but moving how? Doing what?

Ryan Emmons and I directed Bat Boy: The Musical a year ago. We did it in the style of German Expressionism. Simon also choreographed that show and created a half dozen Expressionist inspired dances for it. In one of the songs Ryan and I staged, we had all of the townspeople sitting in a circle happily working and then you realize they are making a noose and suddenly they’ve formed a mob and the noose is hanging from the rafters and Dr. Parker is trapped – all the while they’re singing. German Expressionism is about showing the inner life. Would these townspeople actually be hanging a noose? No. Is it how they feel inside? Yes. And isn’t a song just about showing how a character feels rather than exposition?

In talking to Ryan about The Elephant Man, I’ve said how I don’t know how to approach the songs. He said, “every musical number is either a dance or a noose – so find the noose”. So that’s my mission. In a way it’s so simple – that’s why it’s easy to forget. At their core, so much of directing and acting is about asking the right questions – “what is happening?”, “what do I want?”, “what is stopping me from getting what I want?”, “what is the scene about?”

And I’m going to stop looking at it as “staging”. Because I don’t know what that means – it sounds like glorified blocking. I need to direct these songs. And that means asking questions – questions of the script, questions of the actors, questions of the music. Sometimes the answers, the ropes, come easily – this song is about journeying to find what you want (Great! So this scene-song is movement, walking, running contrasted by expressionist moments showing what the characters want).

A musical is a big undertaking. You are blessed with many extra collaborators (and if you don’t view them as blessings, than you need different collaborators). It’s not about relinquishing power to the musical director or choreographer or film maker or costume designer or prop designer or actors or band, but about imparting your vision to them, igniting their imaginations by telling them you want it to look like an Al Hirshfeld caricature come to life, that it’s a simultaneous parody of and love song to the Broadway Musical.

And as daunting as directing a musical is, particularly when you have three weeks to do it, it’s still directing. And directing, in the Julie Congress dictionary is:

1. Having a clear vision you can impart to others
2. Asking the right questions
3. The ability to inspire your collaborators

Written by Julie Congress

Experience not Performance

CONGRESS IN SESSION

To the Esteemed Delegation,

My hopes are high for 2009. In a week, we will be seeing in a new president and much needed change. I also sense a new artistic breeze stirring, one that I hope turns into a full storm, again of much needed change.

I firmly believe that one of the main roles of art is to allow the spectator to see the world through a new set of eyes, through a different perspective. To broaden perceptions creates acceptance and understanding. We have lived through eight years of feeling morally superior to the world, and that is unhealthy. The moment you place yourself above another, the moment you assume that you know what is right for someone else better than they know what is right for themselves, is the moment when violence and hatred are allowed to blossom.

Last week, I reviewed the interactive Iraq War simulation/performance Surrender. For four hours, I was literally put in the U.S. Army issued boots of another person. For four hours, I saw the world through eyes that were not my own. I cannot stop thinking about this experience. And though I did not see Kirk Wood Bromley’s new untitled play, I have talked to Critic Martin Denton extensively about his experience seeing it. While he was not issued a replica rifle and put through basic training as I was, Denton nonetheless left the theatre feeling ravaged and defiled by a play that did not just show him an experience but put him through it as well.

Experience. I wrote that word three times in the last paragraph, not because of shoddy proofreading, but because there was no other word to use. ‘Experience’ is a very powerful artistic tool, and one I hope will be part of this new theatrical wave I perceive.

Here is my challenge to the artistic community (first and foremost to my own company, No. 11 Productions): Do not just show the audience a new world or a new perspective, let them feel it, be completely engaged in it. Make it an experience. Take them on the journey with you. It does not have to be done as literally as in Surrender (although I sure would love to take part in more theatre like it). I believe there are a multitude of means to this end yet to be explored, and that is very exciting.

We have only had two rehearsals for our upcoming production of Artaud’s Jet of Blood. But they have been incredibly energizing and fruitful. I hope that when all is said and done, Jet of Blood will be an Experience not a Performance.

Written by Julie Congress

What Makes an Actor Good?

CONGRESS IN SESSION

To the General Assembly,

To grow as an artist, it is important to be perpetually questioning and reexamining one’s craft. Unfortunately, this sort of discussion seems to have little place once one graduates from their particular Institution of Learning. It is the aim of No. 11 Productions to be continually learning and growing, so please give me leave to wax [semi-]eloquently on the question: “What makes an actor good?” My list is nowhere near complete, but I hope that my compatriots at No. 11 and you, dear readers, will add to this discussion.

What Makes an Actor Good?

• Talent – You can’t rule it out, some people are innately gifted, and while good actors become better through training and experience, some degree of talent is necessary.
  
• Versatility – While the Tom Cruises and other mega-celebrities of this world can make a living playing themselves on the screen, a good actor, in my mind, should be able to play many parts. You should see the character on the stage/screen not the actor.
  
• Collaboration – As a director, I would rather cast someone I want to work with than someone who is uber-talented but brings nothing to the ensemble. The ability to work as part of a group, to bring ideas and energy to the project, and put the production over oneself is one of the most important features an actor can have.
  
• Control/Proprioception – Not only must a good actor have control over their physicality and voice, but they must always be in command of themselves on stage. Yes, we must be the character and be caught up in the world of the play, but a small part of the actor must always be watching what is going on. Proprioception, according to Wikipedia, “is the sense of the relative position of neighbouring parts of the body.” Proprioception is how we can move our feet even if we are not looking at them. It is a function of the brain that an actor must have to an extended degree. We must be in the moment onstage, but our actor-proprioception allows us to also know what is going on with the audience and with our fellow actors. Without this, an actor can become dangerously immersed in the character and lose sight of the fact that they are acting, which can be perilous for those onstage with them. No matter how immersed in a character and the given circumstances, we still have to pull our punches.
  
• Humanity – To paraphrase Stanislavsky, even if you are playing an evil character, it is the responsibility of the actor to find what is good about him. The job of an actor is not to judge their character, but to embrace them, faults and all. To find the good in a character, to understand how humans work, and to want to create life is essential to a good performance.
  
• Energy/Passion/Charisma – To create life, you need energy. Scientists say energy cannot be created or destroyed, so an actor must be able to find within him/herself that fervor that will not only catch an audience’s eyes but will invigorate and enliven everyone and everything around them. You can tell when an actor loves what they are doing and it is contagious and exciting.
  
• Dedication/Hard Work – As an actor, you will experience these rare, magical moments where something inexplicably wonderful happens and you are greater than yourself. But there is no recipe for this, and you cannot rely on it happening. What you can do is work hard, continue to train, and be constantly open to learning and growing.
  
• Good Attitude – Theatre is a highly collaborative art form. An actor must be receptive to the director, to the ensemble, and to the project. There is a reason we rehearse so much, it is to make the production and the performances stronger and stronger and the actor must be excited, not resistant, to this process.
  
• Openness – A good actor has an open mind, an open heart, and an open soul.

Written by Julie Congress

On Hope and Guidance

CONGRESS IN SESSION

To the Fair Assembly of this Great United States,

Two pivotal events occurred this week, one great and one small, but both endowing me with new vigor and belief.

First was the monumental election of Senator Barack Obama as the 44th president of the United States. I am an avid supporter of this dynamic gentleman and was thrilled to be on the streets of New York City amid cheers and honking when McCain’s concession was announced. This campaign was really something special. For the first election in my lifetime, there were ways for the everyday citizen to get involved other than just giving money (to go into the pockets of the television network giants).

It occurred to me, while watching Obama’s acceptance speech, that maybe this incredible national involvement will not end. Prior to now, I have assumed that the involvement of the typical US citizen in this representative democracy does not extend past voting and paying taxes. It has suddenly dawned on me that perhaps there is more. Perhaps we the people will play a role, should we accept it, beyond casting our ballot and be a part of the Great Change. I am 22 years old and this is the first time I have really felt proud, and excited, to be an American.

The second encouraging event of the week occurred last night, when Ryan Emmons (New Jersey-D) and I met our beloved teacher and mentor, Marie, for drinks and discussion. For four years, Marie guided, pushed, challenged, and encouraged us and I am so grateful that, though we have graduated, she is still just as much in our lives. With her usual no-nonsense insight, she has helped me see the path again in terms of our company, the current play, and reaching my dreams. Talking with her has reminded me how simple it all is. If something isn’t working, don’t keep slamming your head against it or looking around vaguely for an answer, just go to the source and find what caused it and fix that.

So thank you, Barack and Marie, for allowing me to see how to make the change we need.

Written by Julie Congress

Congress In Session

Thank you Mr. Chairman. I appreciate the opportunity to express a few views on the importance, and randomness, of inspiration.

Throughout school, an artist, of any discipline, is continually told to learn about all of the arts. As a director, it is important for me to have a solid grounding in music, dance, and visual art. That does not mean I have to have a proficiency in any of these subjects, but it is important to know about them. Why?

As I have argued previously, I believe theatre to be one of the highest art forms because it holds the potentiality to incorporate all of the other arts. Is a set not a painting? Is blocking not moving sculpture? Thus, if theatre includes other art forms, then one must know about them so as to have a bank to draw from.

Why else? You never know what is going to excite your imagination. A year ago, I saw some German Expressionist woodcuts. A few months later, Ryan Emmons, my colleague from New Jersey, and I decided to direct a high school production of Bat Boy: The Musical in the Expressionist style.

Currently, No. 11 Productions is creating an original play, entitled Claire and the Ornithological Shadow. At any early rehearsal, we gave Samantha Hooper-Hamersley (New Jersey – D) a wooden bird that happened to be in the apartment and told her to create a short scene with it. How could we know that this would so spur all of our imaginations? How could we know that birds (and ornithology) would become a central element to the piece? It is amazing to me how large a role luck and chance have in the creation of a work of art.

This is why an artist must be constantly observing, constantly noticing new things. An artist must surround him or herself with the unusual and creative and that goes for objects, people, and ideas.

I do not pretend to know where ideas come from. In my mind, they are rather magical. You cannot seek out inspiration or force it to happen, but you can follow what interests you and be a constant observer, detective, and student. Whenever Twyla Tharp starts a project, she just researches whatever interests her. She calls this “scratching.” As an artist, one must be constantly scratching. An artist must know about all of the arts, keep interesting company around, engage in stimulating conversation, and have new experiences. To put it plainly, an artist will be inspired creatively if they life to the fullest.

Written by Julie Congress

Congress In Session

To my compatriots:

Allow me to rant for a spell on the importance of community to the arts.

As I wrote previously, Café Cino was the beginning of Off-Off-Broadway. It started as a coffee house for artistic friends to gather, talk, and share.

I am reading a book right now called The Era of German Expressionism. The pages are filled with name after name of the cafes and houses that Kafka, Kokoschka, Conrad Veidt and hundreds of other artists, writers, and actors frequented daily, drinking, arguing, and imagining a new beginning.

At Skidmore College (the ole Alma Mater) there were classes and parties and the theatre department met every Friday to critique, discuss, and present.

The precedent is there, so why isn’t there anywhere like any of these places in New York City??? This is the biggest city in America and it is bustling, brimming, bursting with theatre!

I know the information age has changed things and that there is much “artistic talk” on the Internet. I know there are blogs and discussion groups and informational sites and podcasts and interviews and reviews all at my disposal at the click of a button. And I go to a lot of shows (and occasionally a movie or museum) and I am starting to get to know other people in the biz. But why is there no physical home for it?

I am lucky to have the No. 11-ers and we do engage in a fair amount of artistic musings. But there is a difference between being in dialogue with my company and being in dialogue with a whole community of artists from different backgrounds and with different ideas. Maybe it does exist somewhere and I just haven’t found it yet.

I do believe part of this is jealousy at reading about the incredibly vibrant, stimulating, creative atmosphere of pre-World War I Expressionist Berlin. And part of this is probably some ‘I just graduated from college’ withdrawal. I guess I’m just feeling a little lost and uninspired right even though I am living in a city that should make me feel energized and brilliant and at home.

Community is important to me. I draw much of my energy from being around other artists who are driven and creative and passionate. I hope I can find that non-Internet NYC artist community that I am looking for. And if I can’t, well, then I hope that I can play a role in reviving it from its dormancy.

Written by Julie Congress

Congress In Session

Distinguished Colleagues and Esteemed Opponents,

Today I present a rather lofty claim. Give me leave to present my case. I propose that:

Theatre is the highest art form because it holds the potentiality to incorporate all other art forms.

Granted, not every piece of theatre uses every other art form in it, but there is substantial precedent for all of the following:

• The Two- and Three-Dimensional Visual Arts – the set and lighting designs of a play are crucial elements in telling the story and bringing the director’s vision to life. Picasso, Dali, and Matisse all designed theatrical sets and/or costumes during their careers. In addition, the blocking of actors on the stage is a form of spatial arrangement and sculpture, albeit moving sculpture.
• Literary Arts – prose and poetry are brought to life onstage as the text of a play.
• Film and Multimedia – projections (clips of existing films, live feeds, original footage, etc.) are used frequently in theatrical endeavors as another means of telling a story to a modern, tech-savvy audience.
• Fashion – costume design is an inherent design component of a play.
• Music – this does not just go for musicals. As Mitchell Conway, my honored colleague from Massachusetts, once pointed out, it is exceedingly rare to see a production that does not utilize either canned or live music as part of the experience.
• Dance and Movement – again, not just for musicals. Movement is an intrinsic part of most theatrical training and “physical theatre” is very popular.
• The Culinary Art – disagree with me? I humbly offer you the examples of Brecht’s Baal or Killer Joe by Tracy Letts.

Undoubtedly, this is a cursory look at the other art forms and perhaps I have missed some. Yet I cannot think of any other art form that is so inclusive of the others (save Opera, but I am considering that a close sister of theatre and grouping them somewhat together). Challenge me if you wish, but in my mind, theatre will always be the Super Art.*

*Super Art: The Art that invites all of the other arts over for parties, that never forgets a birthday, and is all around the friendliest and best art form.

Written by Julie Congress

Congress In Session

Distinguished ladies and gentlemen:

I stand before you today with great excitement and hope. Hope for the future of No. 11 Productions. Allow me to digress, so I may get to my point most directly.

My favorite word is asymptotic. You may recall this term from mathematics classes. In layman’s terms, an asymptote is a curve that gets perpetually nearer to a number without ever reaching it.

In this diagram, note how the curve keeps getting closer to the dashed line. The x-axis represents time. So as time passes, the curves gets closer. Yet even if the curve had an infinite amount of time, it would never touch (or go higher than) that dashed line. That is what makes it an asymptote. It will never reach its goal exactly, but will get infinitely closer. Suppose the dashed line was at 2. Then as time passed, the curve would go from 0 to 1 to 1.5 to 1.9 to 1.99 to 1.999 to 1.9999999999 into infinity.

At No. 11 Productions, we are on an asymptotic quest. We want to do Perfect Theatre. We want to attain Truth and Beauty. Yet we know that these are abstract concepts. These ideals are our asymptotes. With every production we do, we will get closer and closer. We will learn more and we will grow.

That is why we chose to work as part of a company, so that the next play could pick up from where the previous one left off. For us, that “x-axis” is our productions. Rather than each play starting from zero and being an isolated line, all of our pieces will be going further and further on the “Great Parabola to Truth”.

It may not always be easy, but we will find strength because we are forever working towards, and getting infinitely closer to, a higher aspiration.

Written by Julie Congress