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Hi Claudia!! Thanks so much for chatting with me. So – First of all, how the heck are you? And, what’s your favorite thing to stress bake? For me lately, it’s a big wide stone fruit cake thing. I make it in a big wide curvy cake pan I bought at Ikea and I pretend I’m in Sweden. It’s nice. You?

Hi Rachael. Covid is one big curve, isn’t it? Waving at neighbors, living in the backyard (and grateful for the yard) and seeing the same six people we’ve been seeing since lockdown. I miss family gatherings. I loved baking for those. I am not too much of a stress baker – I just always baked. Pretty seasonally (very Italian of me). Berry pies in the summer, apple cakes and pies in the autumn… caloric-laden-very-fatty sweets to ring in the New Year. It’s funny you should mention Sweden. Last year on the North Shore (the shore of Lake Superior in northern Minnesota affectionately known as “The Norwegian Riviera”), I bought a baking book: Scandikitchen: Fika & Hygge by Bronte Aurell and have been cooking non-stop from that. Your pan reminds me of the pan desired for the Cloudberry and White Chocolate Cake. Don’t cloudberries sound heavenly? I have yet to find them but maybe one day when Americans are allowed to travel, that will be a new mission for me. I’ve made the simple and the fussy. I love the names of the cakes, “The Sylvia Cake,” “Success Cake,” “Blueberry Studmuffins.” But they’re all meant to be shared. I miss sharing. What do you make with your pan? And I believe you have family at home to gobble it up?

RC: Okay, I’m Norwegian American and I have more family in Norway than in the U.S. and I know cloudberries and they are worth the hype. Their texture’s amazing, like a soft peach with a light, citrusy sweet flavor. They’re so good! In Norway, people will return year after year to their mølte berry patches that only they know about. Like, they’ll write it into their wills, where to go find them. They grow up in the mountains, above the tree line. They’re the best. I’m so lucky to have picked them, and my kids, too. We went to Norway in 2016, so they could meet their cousins. It’s a continuous family connection that’s been unbroken since my grandfather moved to this country as a boy. He promised to stay in touch – And fortunately, they all did. 100+ years later, we are all in close communication. The night after Trump won, I got the best message from my cousin Sigurd. He simply wrote: “Do you want us to put the heat on for you in the basement?” He knew. They knew. Their country had been occupied. They saw the fascism from the other side of the earth. Now – I can’t wait to be able to get there again. First thing, drive to the mountains. Eat some mølte! Now we just sit in our yards and reminisce. Glad we have lots of travel to remember. How ‘bout you: Are you living in the present? Or do you, like me, feel kind of caught between the past, pre-Covid, and the future, like if and when theatres will come out of suspended animation?

CH: Working in theatre makes you live in the present, doesn’t it? And in the future. You write during the “here and now” and edit. And then you submit – giving you a glimmer of hope that something will be accepted in the future. I miss submitting. Because I write in youth theatre, there’s little to submit to right now. All conferences and residencies have been put on hold for a year, and all productions are cancelled or postponed. One year ago, Paul and I had many plans for the Summer of 2020. He retired August 1 and all our best laid plans will not happen. I wrote a play with Eva Schloss about her brother’s paintings that he did in hiding from the Nazis. We had several wonderful visits. Last October she was in Minnesota, spent the day at our home and Paul and I made plans to visit her in London September 2020. She was enthusiastic about showing us her part of London. Then we would be off to Cornwall. I spent my tween years reading Gothic novels and they all took place on the wild and wooly coast of Cornwall and I’ve always wanted to take my imaginings there. Have you ever been? It’s been on my list forever.

Then there’s the play with Eva. It was supposed to premiere March 2021. Eva planned on flying in for talk-backs about her years living in hiding and the ramifications of hate. Of course, that is on hold.  Time is a precious thing and nobody knows how long we have. Paul and I are in our sixties. Eva is 91. She was on the West Coast of the USA giving talks on peace and tolerance when COVID hit. She made it home safely and she writes me that her children have had her “on house arrest” ever since. The loss of one year – no matter where you are in life has been difficult for everyone. It’s the loss of time with people you care about that you cannot get back. We supplement the sadness with gratitude conversations. We are healthy. We stay home and wear masks when out.  We live in hope that this ends and we’re all still here. To write. To play. To search for cloudberries.

RC: I miss travel so much, and I miss the anticipation of travel maybe even a little more. I’m a planner, needing to descend upon my destination armed with a trivial knowledge rivaling any travel book and a physical gumption requiring little rest, food or shade. I subscribe to the “Get there early” and “do everything” tourist plan, unlike my dear husband, who enjoys the pleasure of a good tarry far more than I do. That said, we so enjoyed our holiday together last spring to London and exploring the English countryside. We were there ostensibly to see a reading of my play CANOPY in Cambridge, as part of the WriteOn Festival. Really, we were there to be together for the first time out of the country since we had kids. London is such a wonderful city. We were there in April and it was bursting with springtime flowers and life. Then we did a breakneck tour of Cambridge, Oxford, Bath, Stonehenge, Sussex and skittering down to Brighton, all by car, all driving on the left, all having a minor heart attack at this or that privet hedge or stone wall or house or sheep or fox or roundabout. It was great fun.

I would love to see Cornwall – Your trip must happen one day, and I know it will. I’ve read all those creaky stories, too, and delight in their musty parlor vibe. I just did a million hours of research on Mary Shelley before Covid, but haven’t had the heart or the will to tackle a project on her right now. Too much death and uncertainty swirling around, although that’s certainly what she was living with in her contemporary life and world. It’s fun to imagine the twinkling Georgian manor homes of Austen next to the sinister gothic piles in the books we kinda love…

Are novels an influence for your writing now? With your youth plays, I know you draw lines to history. I’ve read a number of your plays that focus on real people, contextualizing them in narratives that can be playful, relational, creative – that take flight with time and space, character, plot. Tell me about that space, of bringing the past to life, and why do you think plays work well, as a medium for communicating history to children and youth?

CH: Travel feeds my love of history. There’s something about being “at the place where it happened” that takes away the dry-textbook aspect of it and brings it to life. Sophie Scholl’s memorial in Munich shook me. There, outside of the University of Munich where she was arrested, there is a memorial of the pamphlets she helped produce interspersed with photos of all of the White Rose Society members. I looked at those young faces – university students – trying to bring down the Nazi government – and I wondered, why didn’t I learn about them? These young people lost their lives trying to bring attention to Nazi atrocities and I had only seen brief mentions of them here and there. (Yes, they are studied in Germany but even that took decades.) The day after returning home from Germany, I wrote Antigone in Munich. I received help from people at the University of Munich – there’s a lot of misinformation on the internet! And wrote nonstop for weeks. It was a mission.

And then there are the newspaper articles. My play about Mary Anning (paleontologist) was from a news article. When you see that a thirteen-year-old young girl made a huge discovery in 1812 and then was ignored in the science books for over two hundred years, I pay attention. Similarly, my play about Anne Frank’s pen pal in Iowa was from a BBC article. I was able to visit the town in Iowa where Anne had her pen pal (Juanita Wagner) and talk to people, visit their little museum and dig deeper into Juanita’s life. Juanita’s childhood was not easy but it was in stark contrast to what Anne was going through under the Nazi occupation.

At the museum in Iowa, Eva Geiringer Schloss had donated replicas of her brother’s paintings that he created in hiding. Heinz Geiringer’s paintings stuck with me. How can you self-teach yourself art while hiding from the Nazis? There was no correspondence course. And through the paintings, I could see not only his artistry develop, but watched Heinz grow into an observant, thoughtful young man. His paintings alternate between hope and despair and I just wanted to reach out to him. I did reach out to his sister and as stated above, the paintings were the backbone of another youth play, My Brother’s Gift.

All the plays feature these remarkable people as children. I think young audiences relate quickly to another young person onstage. Whether it’s Mary Anning’s determination at age 13 to discover fossils or Heinz Geiringer working to better himself while in hiding from the Nazis, young people can relate to their resolve. A young person is not “on hold” to start their life at age twenty. Obstacles are everywhere. And so is creative thinking. Sophie Scholl went to talks and meetings to learn about her government. Mary Anning chipped away at the Lyme Cliffs in England to find her fossils. Anne Frank had her diary. Heinz Geiringer wrote poems and painted. I wish I had seen more young people on stage growing up. And so now I make sure I make time to write what I wish I had seen.

RC: These themes — Of youth overcoming societal expectations, oppression, occupation — can be seen throughout your work, and I’m so glad I’ve had the chance to read a lot of your plays. So, tell me, what makes a solid ‘Youth Play’? And how do you write for young audiences?

CH: A solid “Youth Play” is really the same as a solid play for adult audiences. What differs is the world of the play. You have to look at the age group and understand their world. A play about Nazi Germany will not resonate with K-2. That is out of their scope. That is why residences and conferences for theatre for young audiences have separate slots for Grades K-2, 3-5, 6-8 and high school. One play cannot possibly fall into all of those categories. Children grow and develop at astonishing speed. At a young age, they could be fascinated by the natural world, good vs. evil, or magical occurrences and by grades 6 they could be starting to look at social issues. When choosing to write a play for the young, really give some thought to the age range of the audience. Can they connect to this material? Will they care about the outcome? Children deeply care about the outcome. They invest their heart and soul in a story and their characters. Oh! And now there’s “Baby Theatre.” That’s a whole new ballgame. It’s a sensory introduction to theatre.

RC: I need to know more about “Baby Theatre”! – Is that like the live version of My Little Pony I saw when my kids were small, that was an existential pastel horror show with hooves? I’m just being silly, but your thoughts on developmental age groupings are interesting. We don’t think about that with adult audiences, though they differ wildly, too, don’t they? The demographics vary. That might not influence my writing, but it does influence what I send where. And I really resonate with what you’re saying about what younger audiences are ‘ready’ for – although that varies, too. I remember when I was a teaching artist in the schools, I couldn’t believe how many really young kids had seen really gory TV and movies. With omnipresent screens, tablets, phones, etc, how does theatre still entrain young hearts and minds? And why is it important?

CH: Ha! I don’t think that live version of My Little Pony would fly at a theatre dedicated to young audiences! Live theatre is so immediate. You watch the characters go through obstacles, inner and outer conflicts, changes, growth, right in front of you. There are no barriers. No screens. You are in their world. I love the study that was done that found “audience hearts synchronize while watching live theatre.” Their hearts literally beat together and their pulses speed up and slow down together as the story unfolds. That coming together cannot be overestimated in our growth as humans. One huge bonus in writing for teens: letters and emails telling you how a play of yours affected their life in a positive manner. That just may be the pot of gold at the end of a rainbow.

Note for Readers:

We started this dialogue back in January. It’s been a bit of a season! — R.C.

Rachael Carnes: Hi, Tara!  Thanks for chatting with me! I’m excited to connect. You’re a renaissance human — Acting, directing, singing, podcasting, arts-administering and so much more, all while bringing this amazing enthusiasm for mentoring early career arts professionals, and helping them to believe in themselves. So — Tell me about a typical day, or week, how does creativity find its way into your habits, and how is it a skill you use, in various aspects of your work and play? 

Tara Wibrew: Hi Rach! Thanks for chatting with me! It’s so fun to catch you; I’m amazed by how much you do and absorb and create.

Thanks also for the sweet compliment. I do… a lot. Honestly, sometimes a typical week feels anything but creative because I spend a lot of time organizing my time. I refer to it as being a champion of Calendar Tetris (™). So boring, right?

But I’m so much a creature of habit. Coming up with creative habits keeps me making art, and habitualizing allows me space to be creative. Once I know the metaphorical box, I can think outside of it. Time is the ultimate box. Duke Ellington said something like, “I don’t need time, I need a deadline.” I live by that. With deadlines, I actually create far more than I do in a completely free and open space. I’m allowed to come up with and discard as many ideas as I want, but time forces me to say “yes” more and edit less.

You’re constantly writing, submitting scripts, reading, reviewing—to get all that done, what sorts of habits do you have in place? Do your habits alter your creativity or put pressure on it?

Carnes: Yes! I love that Ellington quote, I want it embroidered and framed and above my desk immediately. Like you, I approach a myriad of projects, and try to throw my whole heart into all of them, so measurable, time-sensitive and actionable to-do’s are key. I live by my Google Calendar, and use it like a bonkers KanBan board. I have standing daily, weekly and monthly tasks for myself, and I keep track of what I’ve done in the events themselves. It’s nuts, but works for me. I also use my gmail inbox as a to-do list, with more time-sensitive needs at the top. I love a zero’d out inbox, but I’m learning to live with leaving some things undone until I can do them thoughtfully. I’m always juggling work-work, freelance writing, playwriting, and of course personal and family stuff, so staying organized helps me feel like I can tread water.

All that is to say – the connections and connectivity – fuel creativity for me. Keeping up with conversations, circling back to collaborators, developing an idea with folx, revisiting someone I worked with, to see if they want to work on something new or bigger, taking on the capacity for new projects, all of that would fall apart, if I didn’t have some pretty dialed systems in place.

I love to say “Yes” — 2019 was the year of the “Yes” and I managed to travel and learn and meet new people and participate in more creative pursuits than ever before. “Yes” is an important first step, and then things seem to sort themselves out. 

What are you saying “Yes” to, that you’re excited about right now? 

Wibrew: So many things! Creatively, I find risk super sexy. I’m all-in as soon as someone on the team is daring to do something new, eager for opportunity, and excited by tackling problems.

A few projects I’m psyched about right now: directing Lucas Knath’s A Doll’s House, Part 2; supporting a timely staged reading of Network; adapting A Midsummer Night’s Dream to focus on the mechanicals, for staging in a winery; supporting a badass young artist (who you know well) putting together an evening of readings of works written by young womxn; and adapting a book series as an immersive theatre experience. I’m also really excited about writing new music with my band, several podcast dreams, musing on new projects… truth be told, “excited” is my natural state.

One of my working mantras is “How can I say yes?” I don’t care much for the yes/no binary. There’s always a way to make things happen, so long as you can assess what the core immovable dimensions are and what areas are more flexible. I know my own capacity and try to say “yes” to as much as possible, even if that means several elements of a project but not a process in its entirety. I also have zero interest in attempting things alone. Everything I mentioned being excited about? They’re all projects with amazing teams of people behind them. None of these are creations centered on an individual, even if an idea starts with one–every project grows toward building community.

How do you balance your “yes” energy? Do you pick things to say “no” to? Or do you need ways to turn off or tune out entirely? Does saying “yes” ever tire you out?

Carnes: I am loving this convo, because the heart of creativity is sustaining collaborating energy, which is a dynamic, kinetic experience. I don’t think marathon is the right metaphor, because each project has surprises and hurdles and discoveries. Maybe a marathon does, too? I hate jogging. Anyway, what I love about new projects is that they don’t move in a straight line. There are multitudes of mini goals and every time we get to one, I wanna throw confetti, and often do. My go-to word is “Yay!” — like I’m five, but no really. We have to celebrate! The process is so important, and I just think that the process should be fun. Hard work, focused, all that – but fun. I believe when we’re laughing, we’re learning. We’re still open. That’s a guiding principle for me.

And in terms of choosing what to take on, where to put my time and energy, I’ll try anything, I’m game for whatever. And if I find, in my debrief, that something took more out of me than it put in, I might reassess next time. It’s often surprising what tends to be the most deeply meaningful, in terms of experiences in the art form. The theme is relationships, though, more than ‘collaborators’ – the feeling of trust, humor, goofiness, the esprit de corps that can and does form, right here at home, or thousands of miles away. It’s kind of amazing. And I am with you on team work. It helps me to learn new things, and to not feel so much pressure. A great team makes the road smoother and the journey way lighter and more interesting. I gotta be able to crack jokes with people. For me, that’s bedrock.

I love this thing you said, that you have to assess “the core immovable dimensions are and what areas are more flexible” — YES. So true and so wise. That’s the thing, isn’t it? When I’m sizing up a project, I am willing to apply myself to it, if I know that there can be flexibility I can accommodate. None of us are in a cave working on just one thing. We’re all spinning 50,000 plates, so to add another one, I have to feel okay about my role in the equation. 

I’ve definitely had the experience of piling too many yeses on top of each other, and though I was still fulfilling all the tasks and commitments to various collaborators, I felt like it was taking its toll. Now, I schedule myself out, booking new projects with a bit more of a nod to the space-time continuum. When I just get tired, I crave alone time, my dogs, walks, naps and TV. And good food. A couple of days in my pajamas watching crap TV and eating well and sleeping, and I’m usually back in business. What about you? How do you restore, after a big push? 

Wibrew: Unstructured time is the best way for me to find rest. It’s a challenge to make myself not plan anything! Usually that manifests as cooking, listening to podcasts, playing with the dog, working on a puzzle–things that can happen any time, feel like “doing something,” and are minimally demanding. Puzzles especially. I love puzzles. (Winter is referred to as “puzzle season” at my house.)

I’ve instated JOMO days for myself each month. Are you familiar with that term? The Joy Of Missing Out rather than its Fear-based counterpart (FOMO). Restoration is an interesting concept, because even at rest, we’re still working, still creating—or I am, anyhow. Traditionally restful activities can be demanding. I recently turned down an opportunity to attend a production because I can’t watch theatre passively. 

But I have to make time for experiences removed from my artistic life so I have something to make art about. Joy has to exist outside of productivity, so productivity does not become the measure of all things. I have to force myself to do nothing… it’s crazy. I’m such a lucky weirdo and am sure I sound like a complete ass. “I’m so busy doing what I love that I have to take a break from what I love.” Geez. Really, I cannot express how grateful and humbled I am to live this life.

You generate mass amounts of creative content, but you have such an active personal life. Do you have a happy space between your creative life and other lived experiences? How do you feed both of those areas, and how do they inform one another (if at all)?

Carnes: JOMO! Heck yeah – Thanks for introducing me to this magical term! Exactly. I recently had a meeting cancelled, and thought, this is the best feeling in the world, to get this hour back. What will I do with it? (Cut to a montage of me, running through fields of flowers, eating FroYo, dancing to an accordian player on the streets of Monmartre, etc.) I mean, time is a gift. 

I didn’t know you like puzzles, and I find this fascinating, because I loathe them! No, really, I cannot stand them, and probably need to explore the origins of why, for at least five or six years.

RE balancing work and creative life and family and friends, I don’t know. Some days are easier than others, but I’m rooted in anchor points. Our busy family checks in at dinner, almost every night of the week. It’s often quick, but it’s phones-free (actually, our whole house is, a rule we implemented when our kids got phones, and it stuck, and it makes a huge difference… We don’t pull our phones out in the common spaces of our home.) This means that when I come through my front door, I can essentially step back in time, and for my kids, they’ve developed the habits not to focus on phones instead of people or places. For us, it helps with the puzzle of our lives.

In terms of my creative life, I get up freaking early, to write, send submissions, read plays, and do all the professional development tasks that require nurturing. And then I hug my kids and go to work! I am not an examplar of balance, probably. But I can really get shit done!

Last question: Advice for someone, who wants to do the kind of work that you do in theatre? Where to start, and how to sustain, that vision and activity level? And — This is a doozer — How does the way we’re making shifts in theatre practices now, help to define the future? 

Wibrew: When deciding where to start anything, I return to my grandfather’s advice:

1. Make a list.
2. Write it down.
3. Put numbers on it.

It’s good, practical advice that I rely on daily. As for sustaining vision and activity levels…

A good friend of mine grills me at the start of every project: Why this show, and why now? (Side note: always surround yourself with people who are smarter than you are.) Answering those questions clearly–with creative, personal, and/or professional reasons–forces me to be honest about my motivation and energy for the project. Similarly, my artistic pursuits are underscored by a need to use this medium in this moment toward a better, kinder, more empathetic world. That sense of greater purpose on any scale is necessary to maintain my energetic stride.

Theatre on the whole is redefining itself with similar questions, namely: Whose stories are we telling? Why these stories, why now? And our willingness to really examine those questions helps to keep theatre not only relevant but a vital component of culture. This isn’t to say that we shouldn’t produce “classics” or that every project needs to be a political piece (though it’s arguable that all art is political… but that’s a conversation for another day). We need pieces that simply spark joy, especially when times are dark! We need pieces that shout from the rooftops: beauty exists in everything, love is real, life is worthwhile, you are important! And we need to make sure the voices we amplify, regardless of genre, are more diverse and representative of humanity’s diverse realities. Theatre is working toward defining the future more collaboratively than ever before. How lucky we are to be alive right now.

I love that you don’t pull your punches when it comes to questions, Rach, and I appreciate your courageous curiosity so much! We have to tackle the big queries, over and over again, within ourselves and with one another. Thanks for everything, co-adventurer.

Rachael Carnes: Hi Elene! We first met last year, when you selected my play “Egg in Spoon” for your festival. I remember how heartening it was to finally get a production for this little play, that I felt like I’d submitted so many times, and it had just never landed. Now it’s been published and had multiple productions… So, thank you for the encouragement! Now we have a new show coming up, and I’m excited to see what your team does with my play “A Collective Grouping of Animals” — that I wrote on too little sleep, last summer at the Kennedy Center.

Rachael: So… What inspires your creativity?

Elene Hadjidaniel: Everything! Even what people would consider as simple every day activities – inspiration can come from that.

Along with producing an annual show via “Saw It Here First Productions” and doing my freelancing work, when I can I create my own artwork, recycled material gifts & jewellery, do editing/post production work and have recently started writing.

For example, one day my partner Ian was making a shopping list by using Amazon’s Echo Dot with “Alexa”. I was listening and just thought how it might be the case that “Alexa” may be the only voice that some people hear on a daily basis. It then got me thinking about how some elderly people might interact with “Alexa” – they may find it helps them or it may be confusing, even frightening to hear a voice but not see a face. It then it led me onto an idea about an elderly person who suffers from dementia having a conversation with “Alexa” – and that’s where my short play “All That Is Gold Cannot Stay” came from.

Another example, in terms of my art work, I met up with a lovely friend of mine who had her long hair loosely braided to one side and draped over the front of her shoulder. I absolutely loved the shape and pattern of it – so I decided to draw it! I also remember talking to a friend about studying Shakespeare’s “The Tempest” for our Theatre Studies A Level course (exams taken in the last years of high school). I was still thinking about it afterwards and came up with another design which represents Prospero’s staff. This led onto other Shakespeare related designs which I was then lucky to have sold as cards at the Royal Shakespeare Company Theatre in Stratford Upon Avon, the Samuel French Bookshop in London (as it was) and even other designs related to the Bronte sisters’ novels at the Bronte Parsonage Museum in Yorkshire.

Another source of inspiration are people who have the drive, enthusiasm and passion to go for what they want to do and the people who help them get there. When you don’t have those elements, it’s such a struggle to do anything. I think this is the same for everyone, not just creatives. Projects like putting on a show will certainly have bumps along the way – but other creatives I know kept going and produced such great performances and still do! I can only hope that I can do the same. Also supporting my friends in the entertainment industry and being immensely proud of what they do inspires me and also helped lead to the idea of putting on a show.

So inspiration can come from everywhere – even surprisingly when you’re not actively looking for it!

Tell me about your work with “Saw It Here First Productions”. Where did the idea come from? 

The idea actually came from scratch nights which were taking place in London, where brand new short plays were being performed. I didn’t even realise that scratch nights existed until I performed in a play by the lovely Laura Shoebottom about 3 years ago . This made me realise that I was missing the stage and I thought that a scratch night project would be a perfect opportunity to do something theatre related again. I spoke to my partner Ian Black (who is an actor) and others in the entertainment industry to see if they would be interested in taking part and they were keen. I also used social media to drum up interest in the project and thought that I would only hear from maybe around 10 people…. but I actually heard from over 100, so I thought that this was a project that could work! I wanted to make our company different though, so as well as giving creatives the opportunity to have their work showcased, I decided that we would donate the money from our ticket sales to local charities. Playwrights have their work staged; directors, actors and stage crew get to do what they love doing; the public get to see a show and money goes to charity – it’s a win-win situation for everybody! 

Are there any surprises — or setbacks — that have fueled you to continue to build it?

At the time when I was contemplating starting SIHFP, I was actually in the middle of being made redundant from my full-time job. It was a pretty lengthy, uncertain and stressful process and I had gone through this experience before. It certainly was not pleasant on both occasions, so I really wanted to focus on something else rather than having the fact of not having a job soon playing on my mind and keeping me awake at night. During my first redundancy period and even after it, it was a pretty bleak time and not having something to focus on made me slip into a bit of a downward spiral. But the second time around, though that too was a challenging time, this project kept me going and gave me something to aim towards. Also, the knowledge that so many talented and professional creatives are involved in the show (we’re talking at least 50 of them) and the thought that charities rely on us to raise as much money as possible gives me the drive to make this show happen. The charities we have supported so far have had a personal link to me, so gave me the extra motivation to make sure this show takes place.

A lovely surprise which has been a great boost to keep our project going was that a short play called “Scab” by Luke Stapleton had its debut at our show last year. After Luke saw it performed (many thanks to Steve Blacker and Diana Vucane!) it encouraged him to make the 15 minute play into an hour long play…and it’s being staged at the London Vaults Festival this year! To know that we helped a writer see their work performed and to encourage them to continue with it and send it out into the big wide world of entertainment is a huge boost and we feel very privileged that their work was seen here first……and now you can see why we chose the name “Saw It Here First Productions”! I hope that us staging these plays gives others encouragement and motivation; whether it be playwrights submitting their plays elsewhere or continuing to write; directors and actors to continue with what they love doing and to even collaborate (which did actually happen with a number of our members from last year’s show!); and also to the public to see something new and different via us and supporting some wonderful charities at the same time.

What do you do for a living, and does that play into your artistic life?

My “survival job” is as an Audio Describer. Audio Description is a narrative style voice-over that describes the visual elements of a programme or film for the blind and partially sighted community. So a voice-over is used between dialogue to describe what’s happening in the scenes. It can be used for TV, film (cinema and DVD) and for the stage.

In a way, this work has played a part in my artistic life even more so recently, as I use my words and my voice (which will be pre-recorded for one of the characters) in my very first written play “All That Is Gold Does Not Stay”, as mentioned earlier. It will be staged at our show coming up in March at the Theatro Technis theatre in London. I’m very excited to see how director Christine Mears and her chosen actor will decide to perform it!

What’s the earliest memory you have of the arts? Music, dance, theatre, visual art — Whatever!

I would say the earliest memory I have is a show in the late 80s in a very small puppet theatre called “The Little Angel Theatre”, which is based in Islington in North London, and specialises in puppetry shows for children. I remember seeing “Amahl and the Night Visitors” there. I was fascinated by these life-size puppets, their movements, their songs, and the fact that you could actually tell a story on a stage. In 1991, my family and I moved to Cyprus and lived there for about 6 years. Whenever we came back to England to visit family, we would always try to catch a show; and every time I returned, my love for theatre grew even more. While we lived in Cyprus, theatre performances were scarce. But I do remember British touring companies visiting every summer and they would put on a show – usually a Shakespeare play. Though my understanding of Shakespearean language was limited, I still always looked forward to it. We moved back to England when I was 14 years old – and I knew that I was always happy whenever I went to the theatre.

Looking to 2020, what do you feel most excited about creatively?

I am very excited about our next show coming up called “From Script to Stage”, which will be showcasing 8 brand new short plays in March – each night will be different! We have a wonderful group of playwrights (including your lovely self, Rachael!), directors and actors whose work will be featured over these two evenings, along with our fabulous technician Xander. Money from our ticket sales will be going towards a fantastic charity called “The Moira Fund”, who help those traumatically bereaved by the manslaughter/murder of a loved one (e.g help with funeral costs, counselling, respite and needs which may arise and for which there is no current provision.) This is run by Beatrice and Hu Jones who set up the charity in memory of their daughter Moira who was murdered in 2008. As well as for Moira, we are dedicating this show to a friend and work colleague of mine called Cathy, who was murdered in 2017. The fact that we are all going to come together to put on a show for such a wonderful cause is truly incredible and I am truly touched and humbled by everyone donating their time and talent towards this.

How do you balance creative life and all of the rest of it? 

Haha! – this is a hard question to answer…as I don’t really have an answer! I don’t even know if I’m getting the balancing right myself. It’s been just over a year since starting the freelancing life and I’m still trying to get used to it. I think I’m getting there, but one thing I believe it has taught me is that giving your every hour of the day to earning a living…is not living. You need to make some time to do the things you enjoy – though this is a lot easier said than done. I’m still guilty of not doing this and find that I still work late into the evenings and that work can overtake things. So, in all honesty, I don’t know if I’ve got my balancing act in shape – but I do try!

What’s it like making art in your community? Tell us about London! 

To me, London is a bit like a kaleidoscope. At every turn, you get such a fascinating range of patterns, colours and shapes. So through art, we have such a mix of creatives, talents, cultures and backgrounds…and we are extremely fortunate to be able to have the freedom to express these, be it through plays, dance, music, poetry, paintings, sculptures etc. There is certainly a lot to see in London which can give creative ideas and inspiration. Though a lot of art is underfunded and it seems that it is becoming a diminished subject in the educational system, it’s refreshing and reassuring that people are determined to keep it going and share with the public. Even people who cover a range of talents and backgrounds come together to make plays, films and other forms of artwork with whatever they have to hand. For example, every couple of months, my partner Ian and I meet up with a wonderful group of friends who each have their own unique skills – we have a cinematographer, a film director, an investment operations manager, a mask and puppet maker, a potter, a music composer, a photographer, a sound designer/producer, a copy-editor/proofreader, an archaeologist by day and milliner the rest of the time (I kid you not!), a massage therapist, Audio Describers, actors and writers! There have been a few times when we have got together to make some short films, which have been accepted into film festivals – and a number of these fabulous people have also helped with our show too! So it’s a fantastic example of how people can collaborate and how art can be made in London with such diversity, freedom and combining of ideas and inspiration – you’ve just to get out there and explore it!

How ‘bout your family? Who’s in your inner circle, and how do they support your work?

There are 5 main members of my family/inner circle….

– My father Christakis: a retired (then not retired – then might retire – then “I’m still thinking about it”) electrician from Cyprus.

– My mother Briony: a retired primary school teacher from Kent, who was also an interior designer. A champion knitter, sewer, card maker, patchwork creator – you name it, she can make it!

– My older sister Youla: a teacher and Head of the Science Department in a secondary school. Singer, beekeeper, globetrotter and awesome maker of Christmas Puddings!

– My partner Ian: Actor, gardener and chef extraordinaire and of course an absolute trooper (i.e he puts up with my worries, my insanity and my mad cat lady moments)

– My cat Theodopolopodopodopodous….Theo for short! Hobbies are: eating, sleeping and answering to calls of nature.

As well as being an actor, Ian also used to run his own touring theatre company, so knows how to deal with the administrative, financial and creative side of putting on a show. His advice towards SIHFP’s events has been extremely invaluable and without his support, our events would not happen. With my family, they have attended almost every show I have performed in – even when I had one of my biggest roles as the narrator for “A Story, A Story”…when I was 6 years old! When I tell them about my work for SIHFP, they have been enthusiastic and tell their friends about it, so everyone’s support has also meant the world to me.

What art knocked your socks off recently? Could be a play — Or an album, a movie, an exhibit, a novel, anything! — What made you connect with the art and the artist’s work? 

Ahhhhh – there’s so muuuuch!!! Does it just have to be one thing?!……Hmmm…….well, something that being an Audio Describer has made me more aware of (and I honestly didn’t think it would)…is paying attention to music and soundtracks in a film/programme. There are some absolute gems I have been introduced to which fit the piece perfectly through its lyrics or melodies. It may even reflect on something I may have been thinking about, or the way I am feeling at that particular moment, or evoke a certain emotion. I remember when I was an offline video/film editor, I absolutely loved editing to music – the satisfaction there is when cutting to a beat or matching a certain motif with a facial expression or a specific motion is indescribable.

Some brilliant pieces/bands which come to mind are Wardruna, Greta Van Fleet, Tyler Bates, Hans Zimmer, The Weepies, Alexandre Desplat, Daniel Pemberton, Gustavo Santaolalla, Avi Belleli, Thomas Newman, Evanthia Reboutsika, Lord Huron, Barns Courtney, Perkelt, The Hu………

…….I’m sorry, I know you said one, but I just can’t, I really can’t!!! Haha!

Oooooh, there are also so many films and programmes that are amazing to watch too!….but I’ll stop there…

……but I would really recommend – no I’ll stop…

….I will……….

What’s next on the horizon for your creative world?

I would like to get back into my art work, as I’ve been missing it. I do have ideas that I’ve picked up from visiting places and would like to get down to creating more designs. Also we are hoping to stage another weekend show for SIHFP in 2021. We will be doing a playwrights’ call out around May/June time. We ask for scripts that are between 10 -15 minutes long, have a maximum of 4 characters and have minimal effects in terms of set, sound, lighting and music – we would rather the focus be on the words and performances themselves rather than the set and effects……so follow us on our website at www.sawitherefirst.com and on Facebook, Twitter and Instagram @sihfpro and stay tuned!

Any advice for someone just starting out in this art form? 

Be prepared! (Don’t worry, I won’t burst into Scar’s song from “Lion King”) What I mean is start planning early, research early and put the feelers out early. In my opinion, the key is to plan and keep on top of things, as the last thing you want is to lose control of your own show. Also, a lot of people are giving up their time to help put the show together, so always appreciate what they are doing and let them know this, as I feel it’s really important to keep a good relationship with those who are taking part.

How do you relax and unwind?

Doing my artwork is quite therapeutic, as my designs have repetitive patterns, so it’s a good way to unwind. I have also been getting into audio books and when I can, I go for a walk and listen to them. Ones I’ve been enjoying and can recommend are “Parsnips buttered” by Joe Lycett, “From Here to Eternity: Travelling the World to Find the Good Death” and also “Smoke Gets In Your Eyes” by Caitlin Doughty and “Things No One Will Tell Fat Girls” by Jes Baker. Audiobooks seem to help stop my mind from having thoughts buzzing around and they actually help me drift off to sleep at night, as I do have episodes of sleeplessness due to thinking about things and re-evaluating too much!

Where can we find your work?

With SIHFP, you can find us on www.sawitherefirst.com and on Facebook, Twitter and Instagram @sihfpro. We hold annual shows (usually at the start of Spring) and raise money for local charities as well as showcase creatives’ short plays and perform ances. This year our weekend show will be on Saturday 7^th and Sunday 8^th March at the Theatro Technis theatre in Camden, London. The shows start at 7.30pm. (On the Saturday my play “All That Is Gold Does Not Stay” will have its debut!) Tickets can be bought via our website too and money goes towards “The Moira Fund”

In terms of my Audio Description work, I think it depends on which region you live in, but you’ll be able to hear my voice on certain films, DVDs and TV channels. You may hear me every now and then on ITV’s “Endeavour”, “Emmerdale” and other programmes. (You will need to choose the “Audio Description” option on your TV settings) With films at the cinema, it will all depend on which film I have been allocated to work on, but with DVDs, you’ll be able to hear me on Disney’s “Frozen 2” and “Aladdin”, Warner Brother’s “Wonderwoman” and all four Lego Movie films (“The Lego Movie” 1 & 2, “Batman” and “Ninjago”), Pawel Pawlikowski’s “Cold War” and Park Chan-wook’s “The Handmaiden”. (Again, you will need to switch on the Audio Description setting on the DVD’s menu). There are some programmes and films which do not have my voice featured, but I have written the full script for the audio description or have contributed in the writing. Two such films are Netflix’s “Dancing with the Birds” and a full length documentary called “For Sama”, which recently won a BAFTA award and is nominated for an Oscar award.

With my art work and jewellery, you can go to my page on Facebook www.facebook.com/eleneartwork

If your cat could describe you in three words, what would he choose?

“I’m. Judging. You”

I realise that this is not describing me, but I have an ongoing joke about Theo – there are certain looks and stares he gives me that just look like he’s judging me. I even take photos (when he lets me!) and add on little quotes that I think he might be saying to me at the time. Goodness knows what goes on inside his cute fuzzy head (and he even has a marking on his back that looks like a big arrow pointing to his head!) but we love him!

Rachael Carnes & Sarah Abrevaya Stein talk growing up in Eugene, OR and the down and dirty of writing creatively

Sarah Stein:  Rachael, so good to be in conversation with you!  We both grew up in Eugene, OR back in the day. I remember it as a bit of a hairy free-for-all, not far from the Rajneeshpuram (Wasco Country, OR), or the temporary home of the religious, milinerium, UFO cult Heaven’s Gate (Waldport, OR), and also the place where–if memory serves–more people on the FBI’s Most Wanted List were found living under adopted aliases (and, no doubt, buying feta in bulk from Kiva Market) than any other location in the country. (The numbers were thrown off by the preponderance of Weathermen, but the point remains).  We both grew up in bookish families, went to public schools in a city that had no private school options, spent a lot of time outdoors, and moved ourselves around by bike, quite freely. All told, I think this made Eugene a powerful nursery for original thinking and creative thinkers. How do you understand the relationship between the place you grew up (and still live in today), and the playwright you’ve become?

Rachael Carnes: Locality is such an interesting question. Growing up in Eugene, I wanted to leave for college and beyond, skipping first to Portland, then onto Seattle, then taking the plunge and packing all our earthly belongings (and a border collie, and two cats) into a moving truck, and moving to NYC, with no jobs and no prospects. It’s good to do that kind of thing when you can.

Still, when our daughter was smallish – almost two? – the city became a little less charming and a lot more expensive. We loved our friends there, and our work, but the dulcet life of Eugene won out, and we moved back home. It’s bonkers that we’ve been here long enough that now our daughter is a High School senior who cannot wait to leave Eugene, preferably to head back to NYC for college! Haha. Between her, and our 8th-grade son, this has been, and I quote, “A great place to raise a family.” — And it is. But even though we’ve lived here for 15 years now, there’s a part of me that wishes for something bigger, more art, more culture, more museums, theatre, dance, more stuff to do. I don’t like sports, and this is a sports town. So, the writing scratches that itch, because through the research, the writing, the revisions, I am fully-involved in a brand-new world. It’s 1000-percent more engaging than reading a novel, or any of the transporting activities I enjoyed before playwriting. When I’m working creatively, I feel better. And when a play gains traction, a production in a new city, that equates to a new relationship that I can foster and develop. That’s fun – Through writing, I’ve met and worked with people, literally, all over the world. In terms of our shared experiences, your description of a childhood here is perfect, I don’t know that what we grew up with quite exists anymore. This community feels a little more split, like the hippie culture is fading, replaced by nicer malls and better restaurants. I like that change, but it’s also a little sad. Eugene used to feel weirder, for sure. Still, when I think about my upbringing here, I do think back to the many adults just doing their own weird thing: Music, visual art, dance, improv, writing novels, making art. I probably took it for granted, but everyone was dancing to their own drummer. So, I guess, now I am, too. 

Why do you think certain communities tend to encourage creative thinking? And can it be encouraged anywhere? What kills it? 

SS: Interesting questions.  I think the creative spirit can grow anywhere, but I also think certain communities foster it–and others seek to tamp it down.  There’s a Happiness Index: maybe there should be a Soul Killing Index too, so people can strategically avoid places that breed conformism. 

One of the things I think Eugene offered me, and perhaps still does offers kids today despite the gentrification, is the freedom to chart one’s own path.  Granted, everyone always (always!) thought I was FROM somewhere else growing up (read: New York Jew, though you’re more New York than me!) but the wild wooliness of 1970s and 1980s Eugene impacted itself deep within me.

You write “When I’m working creatively, I feel better.”  I share that sentiment entirely. Creative work energizes me, makes me want to return to my desk day after day.  (Though needless to say, not all work days are good work days.) Sometimes folks have a sense that historians like me are laboring to tell the truth (ugh!) but of course it’s entirely a creative enterprise; all about telling effective stories, even if stories rooted in historical realities. 

I’m curious why you are drawn, in work after work, to historically informed stories.  How do you understand your characters’ relationship to the past and to historical legacies?  

RC: I share your interest in storytelling. I get obsessed with our current moment, by looking to the past, and that focus can take me all over the map, from Georgian England (My play “The Perfect Wife”) to Oregon’s exclusionary laws and Klan presence in the 1920’s (“Yoncalla”) to the institutionalization of mothering (“Practice House”) to 8th-century Vikings with Smartphones (“Fumblewinter”) — I just enjoy crawling into a new era and looking around. Did you know that Vikings invented meetings? That’s just a fun-fact that led me to explore our precarious environmental situation through the lens of the absurd. That was one of my first plays, and it got me to the Inge Festival, in 2018. I kept looking around, thinking, “How can I be here?” 

To your question about characters, and their connection to their time and place, people are pretty transparent, with only about four basic emotions: Fear, anger, sadness, fatigue. I guess people love, too, but really, love is just living with someone else’s foibles. The fun of playwriting is plunking people down in these settings: A mountain cabin, a spaceship bound for Mars, the early universe, the future, and letting them walk around and cope with wherever they are. 

I have always enjoyed history, beetling away on whatever trivial layers that interest me. Playwriting is a great space to play with world-building: The textures and colors, the sights and sounds that bring wherever it is that we’re going into the present tense.

Playwrights, and their buddies the dramaturgs, will talk about “the rules of the play” – And defining and adhering to these rules can be simple, or crushingly complex. I’m working on a full-length right now, set in a mountain cabin in the Cascade mountains. It’s summer, and the play only spans a day and a night. Pretty easy to define. That play is about relationships, the conflict that arises among the characters – classic “What I want is opposed to what you want” yadda-yadda. 

But another play that I’m working on has brittle, complicated rules, because it’s a future dystopia, that feels like it’s taking place 100 years ago. That one is cerebral and a giant pain in the butt. Holding fast to the rules — In a disorienting, weird play — Will bake your noodle. 

Tell me about how you define your own path in your work? 

SS:  I’m a peripatetic writer in that I’m always interested in a new place, time, sets of dynamics, and historical characters–I wouldn’t be content stirring and re-stirring the same pot through various projects, as some historians do.  This is incredibly challenging because each time a project begins, you are a student all over again, albeit one with ever more experience.  

I’ve gone from pondering the meaning of corset ads in the late nineteenth century Yiddish press in the Russian Empire (Making Jews Modern, my first book) to learning more about ostrich farming in southern Africa than I ever thought possible (Plumes), and from there to the complex social and legal complex of the French colonial Algerian Sahara (Saharan Jews). I spent some years trying to understand how legal papers mattered to everyday Ottoman women and men as the world of empires was giving way to the modern passport regime and people were moving across borders and continents–carrying, losing, and sometimes falsifying legal documents as they found their way (Extraterritorial Dreams).  My recent book, Family Papers, has me tracing the history of a single family over a century, through six generations, and across the globe, seeking to understand world history from the perspective of individuals and their private lives.  In short, I’m always on the move, and therefore always obliged to be learning more (more meticulous historical details, more broadly arching stories, more about human nature) in order to spin a compelling yarn.  I seem to exist well in this dizzying, ever-shifting reality, though it certainly wouldn’t suit everyone.

I love your insight that “people are pretty transparent, with only about four basic emotions: Fear, anger, sadness, fatigue. I guess people love, too, but really, love is just living with someone else’s foibles.”  If I had to add a fifth, it would be yearning. I find that so many of the private histories I’ve uncovered during my archival dives are propelled by desire–for a better life for oneself or one’s children, for emotional connection or power or money or survival, or by that yen to create artistically or otherwise. They yearn for options, however defined.  

The final thing I’d add is that my path in my work is defined by a mixture of meticulousness and instinct.  I’m a voracious researcher, but it’s not enough simply to gather materials. You have to know when you’ve found something interesting–and you have to be able to tell a story in compelling fashion.  Without those skills, you just end up with a bunch of historical stuff. And all of us already have a lot more stuff than we need.

We converge in our beetling, and in our embrace of imagination;  perhaps the divergence is in the extent to which we’re comfortable residing in narrative potentiality.  I won’t put words in a character’s mouth that were not their own, for example, though I will try to get inside their head and heart through as many creative directions I can possibly imagine.

Can I lob a closing question?  You came to playwriting after first pursuing a lot of other creative avenues, at an age when most folks aren’t taking that many chances. What impact does that have on your writing or vision?

RC: I want to read all your books!

The place where history and playwriting meet is in dramaturgy, and I try to be correct, if/when a piece demands accuracy. For example, I wrote a piece on Sally Hemings, and collaborated with historians at Monticello, to ensure that the play reflected current research. It was the first play that their team had read on the subject, that’s for sure.

And yes, yearning. That’s a great word. And it’s apropos to the energy I have to be a novice, 

being “a student all over again,” as you say. I spent so many years encouraging people to tap into their creativity through arts education, and I was always fascinated by the creative process, and spent many years writing journalistic features about performing and visual artists and arts organizations, highlighting the wondrous work they were doing, and the often bumpy paths to get there. Then one day –  I had an “Aha!” moment.

Today’s dark December morning I’m writing this reminds me that my dad’s death, Dec 27, 2016, marks a kind of transition from a life where I helped other people find the arts, to where I became an artist myself. Losing my dad, physically, was an intense parting, because his mental illness, a lifetime of profound schizophrenia, had kept him from being able to be the loving, present father he probably had wanted to be. I was ten, when he was first institutionalized, and for 35 years, I thought about him and my responsibilities for him, pretty much every day. 

In his last few years, he lived in a small, locked group home, in Eugene. It was a safe environment, clean, cozy, a regular house in a regular neighborhood, with a friendly kitchen and as much dignity as could be afforded to residents. Those visits were hard. My dad didn’t have much language left, and we had hardly any shared memories. But I’d bring photos of my kids to look at, art that they’d made. We’d drink coffee. We’d look out at the birds. 

My dad was creative, when I was a kid. He had a lot of imagination – Probably too much. He had a spark, though, a creativity and drive. When I was a kid, he seemed fearless. 

When my dad died, I felt like I could set down the need to worry. And I started writing. Not about other people, and their hopes and dreams, but plays. Comedies, dramas, histories — Exploring new genres, trying to figure out form, trying to get better at the craft. I’m still doing that. I’ll keep doing that, probably forever. Every play I write gets a little less shitty. 

But being willing to be brand-new at something has given me new energy and opened up the world. I have friends and colleagues everywhere — That’s absolutely the most exciting and rewarding aspect of being a playwright. I care deeply about my community. 

And when I open up a new document and start writing dialogue, jumping into a moment —

I feel alive. 

Thanks for chatting, Sarah! 

Happy New Year. xo 

SS: Yay! The last answer you offer is the very best of the whole conversation. Beautiful, painful, raw. Thanks for this opportunity!

xoxS

Sarah Abrevaya Stein is a historian, writer and educator whose work has reshaped our understanding of Jewish history. Her commitment to research is matched by her love of teaching. At UCLA, she is Professor of History, the Director of the Alan D. Leve Center for Jewish Studies, as well as the Maurice Amado Chair in Sephardic Studies. She is the author or editor of nine books, including Family Papers: a Sephardic Journey Through the Twentieth Century and Plumes: Ostrich Feathers, Jews, and a Lost World of Global Commerce.

Sarah has received many awards including the Sami Rohr Prize for Jewish Literature, two National Endowment for the Humanities Fellowships, a Guggenheim Fellowship, two National Jewish Book Awards and the UCLA award for distinguished teaching. 

She and her family live in Santa Monica.

 Sarah’s website

With two productions running in the same small city, Eugene, OR, I thought it would be fun to feature the three directors, all women, and a bit about their creative process. Not only do these shows have women directors, but they both have women stage managers, lighting designers, costumer designers and box office managers. Pretty cool. Let’s meet the teams, starting with Elizabeth Helman!

Hi, Liz Helman! What inspires your creativity?

Liz: In short, inspiration is everywhere.

The longer answer about inspiration and creativity is that these are, in many ways, two separate issues. For me, part of working in the arts means I need to live my life in such a way that I am constantly receptive to the world around me and that I have a responsibility to learn whatever I can wherever I can. Inspiration in and of itself, can come from anywhere at any time if I am open to follow it. Making theatre is a combination of telling stories and teaching empathy, so learning different perspectives and how to communicate is invaluable when it comes to reaching an audience. I consume all types of media and the study of history, art, philosophy, politics, religion, literature as a means of increasing my ability to tell different stories through theatre. Creativity itself is an ongoing process that requires dedication and the ability to solve problems. It’s work. It takes focus, time, energy, and a willingness to work through challenges with a playful sense of curiosity. Form forces creativity so it’s actually a lot easier to work on a commissioned project where the parameters are already set (ie. “you will direct this play in this space at this time and you have five dollars to do it” or “you will write a script with four characters about such-and-such historical figure and it opens in two weeks”) – while every project has its challenges, usually when I’m hired to direct a play a lot of the unknowns are already taken care of and I can focus on filling in the rest of the blanks to tell the story. In the cases where a project is more open-ended, I need to be disciplined enough to build the sandbox myself for everyone else to play in.

Tell me about your directorial process tackling the short plays in Bunfight. 

My process for Bunfight wasn’t that much different than I usually work except that the plays were shorter and new. There was no production history or preconceived ideas about what any of these plays were supposed to be. Because these are all new works, I felt it was my job to try and get into the playwright’s head and communicate their vision of reality in an honest way rather than hyper-conceptualize them as I might do with a Shakespeare play. I start with any play by just reading through the script a few times to discover the story. What is this play really about? And I mean in the simplest of terms. Love. Friendship. Loneliness. Fear. Whatever. And then I build out from there to the more specifics of time, place, sociopolitical realities, gender relationships, etc. For example, at its center, I think that Contrapposto is a play about control.

Both Sandy and Venus want to control the narrative, but in the world of Renaissance Italy, only one of them can. While Sandy is enough of a humanist to appreciate Venus for her role in inspiring artists, he is still very much a part of a world where the idea that men and women could be equal or that women are full-formed and rational human beings is inconceivable. He sees this painting as an honor, but unfortunately by placing her on a pedestal, he dehumanizes her and denies her own agency. While she can be defiant, he still “wins” in the end. At some point in every process, I remind the cast, when it gets down to it for all the rehearsal and bits and business and work, just “tell the fucking story.” That’s how I start every play, asking myself “what’s the fucking story here?” And then working with the cast and designers to just tell the fucking story through rehearsals, trial and error, design, etc. It’s a process. One where I am constantly reevaluating where we are to make sure we haven’t forgotten that essential story.

The Bunfight directors, designers and production team are all women. What is parity, and why does it matter? And what’s it like to collaborate with this team?

By definition “parity” is the condition of being equal. In terms of a theatrical production process, it matters that artists from different backgrounds and identities have equal access and opportunities to collaborate and contribute. The world is a diverse place and theatre companies have a responsibility to reflect this reality in terms of leadership and creative teams if they want to truly explore the human condition. I think the work tends to be more interesting and thoughtful when the team that created it brings different perspectives to the table. The Bunfight team was a delight to work with, but not just because it happened to be an all-female production team. It was because everyone was excited and dedicated to doing good work. Frankly, I think it was a good sign than none of us really noticed until tech week that the production team was all-female. It’s becoming more common to see representation of female and non-binary artists in creative and leadership roles and, thankfully, this wasn’t my first experience working on a (mostly) female team. That said, there is still a long way to go and people in positions of leadership still need to consciously look around the table at the production team and ensure they are hiring artists from diverse backgrounds in the first place.

Hey, Inga Wilson! You’re an actor and a director. How does one inform the other? Can you relate this to the rehearsal and development of any of the short plays in Bunfight? 

Inga: As an actor I like to have space to explore the character within the framework the director provides. So as I director I like to give actors that same space. I believe so much magic happens in the tiny accidents that come up in rehearsal. One example happened in your piece Cornucopia… one actor was trying to get the other actor to hand him a specific piece of the broken table and doubled the line unintentionally. We ended up keeping it because it helped facility the other actor in getting upset and motivating their movement. I believe the happy accidents help create the feeling of “now” that is so exciting in theatre and helps audiences feel like they’re watching something true unfold before their eyes for the first time.

How do you balance creative life and all of the rest of it? 

Hmmm… I don’t know. “Work life balance.” How do you do it? I rely heavily on my google calendar and I schedule all of it – work, creative projects, time with family and friends. Working a gig lifestyle, I don’t typically get whole days off, so I try to make the most of whatever down time I can get! 

What’s it like making art in your community? How does a project like Bunfight tell us about where you live? 

The theatre community in Eugene is very supportive and because our community is so small, we’re a pretty tight knit group. That closeness really helps in projects like Bunfight that lack tons of prep time, and allows for a kind of short hand in creating relationships on stage. Take your piece Join the Movement – all of the actors had worked together in some capacity before so we were able to focus on other elements besides creating a group of close friends. For most of us, theatre is a tiny piece of all the rest that we’re doing, so it’s clear that folks really want to be there.

Hi Carol Dennis! Tell me about Minority Voices Theatre, the Very Little Theatre, and the people in our community that’ve helped to bring At Winter’s Edge to the stage. 

Carol: Minority Voices Theatre (a community outreach project of the Very Little Theatre) was born in January, 2017. Co-founded with my friend, Stan Coleman, MVT has two main goals: to use community members as actors in staged readings of plays that represent marginalized and underrepresented populations; and by doing so, build an audience and a more diverse pool of actors in this very white part of the country, encouraging other theatres in the area to be more representative of the whole community.

The Very Little Theatre is one of the longest continuously running community theatres in the country – currently in its 91^st season.

Last year, I proposed the idea of directing a play at VLT in the “holiday” slot that was not just about Christmas (which had been the standard fare in that slot for years), but would instead explore the myriad ways people get through the holiday season. The previous year, I had help to create a new play (Now, I Am Your Neighbor by Nancy Hopps) about the experiences of immigrants living in this area. Interviews were conducted with local immigrants, and a play was woven together using their stories. I proposed using a similar process for this new holiday play, and the idea was accepted. At that point, I contacted you with the basic story (late December – people stranded at an airport) and asked if you’d be interested in writing this new play. You said yes, and MVT commissioned the play.

I started contacting people from the Neighbor project, and other actors I had seen in productions at the VLT, asking each to be in this new play and to lend their life stories to the characters they would play. Soon we had a list of people to interview and the process began.

What’s it been like, to develop a brand-new play? 

Developing At Winter’s Edge was more challenging than expected, maybe because in this project I wore different hats. First, I was the commissioning party (on behalf of MVT). In the six months of writing, we would would meet to review the draft and I would give feedback and make suggestions for changes. I had very specific ideas about the message I wanted the play to send, at the same time, I wanted to give you the creative freedom to write “your” play.

As the director, I worked closely with you for the first two weeks of rehearsals, and you made changes to the script based on what you saw, and on my and the actors’ feedback. As the director, it was exciting to help shape the story, but my work really started the moment you handed off the play and I could fully embrace my vision of the play and bring that to life.

Your career as a director spans decades. Any advice for someone just starting out in this art form? 

My bible is Harold Clurman’s book On Directing. In it, he talks about finding the spine of the play – the central theme that every storyline and every character revolves around. When the core of the play is solidly defined, it informs all of the moment-to-moment decisions you’ll be making as you guide actors through the play and create the arc of the story. Also, I don’t try to discover what the playwright was trying to say with the work. If we all did that, then every production of a play would be the same. Discover what the play is saying to you, and trust that that message or theme will be universal enough to speak to your audience.

WHO’S WHO?
Elizabeth Helman received her BA in Theatre and English (Creative Writing) at Santa Clara University and earned her MA and Ph.D. in Theatre Arts at University of Oregon in 2006. She is the Theatre Arts Area Coordinator at Oregon State University and teaches courses in history, literature, performance, directing, and playwriting. She has worked as a director, actor, playwright, costume designer and educator in the theatre for nigh upon these many years and makes the most of her Oregon life through long-distance running, cooking, attempts at gardening, and keeping chickens. She shares her adventures with her beloved husband, Matt, and rescue terriers, Wheatley and Emma. She blogs about directing here: My Rad Life and she blogs about directing Shakespeare here: Project Shakespearia

Inga Wilson received a BFA in Theatre Performance from Drake University and went on to study at the O’Neill National Theater Institute and Chautauqua Theater Conservatory. Inga has worked professionally as an actor and director in California, Illinois, Michigan, Minnesota, New York, and Oregon, as well as, teaching theatre for diverse audiences of all ages. Inga’s LinkedIn

Carol Dennis is the co-founder of Minority Voices Theatre, a director and producer of theatre that creates a sense of belonging. New York City Off-Broadway and National Tours in the 1970s; the Mark Taper Forum, Las Palmas, and Doolittle Theatres in Los Angeles in the 1980s; Eugene, Oregon community theatre for the past 30 years. Minority Voices Theatre

TICKETS!

BUNFIGHT, featuring four short plays by Rachael Carnes and four by Paul Calandrino, and AT WINTER’S EDGE, both continue Thurs-Sun, 12/12-12/15. Tickets at Oregon Contemporary Theatre and The Very Little Theatre.