“Yes” to a Performing and Creating Family

Just before I left my new home in Austin to return to NYC for two weeks, I received a Facebook invite from a friend there, Stav Equality Meishar. Since I get around ten invitations a day on facebook, much of it not even remotely near where I live, or could feasibly attend, this was no big thing. In fact, I most likely wouldn’t have even noticed it if it hadn’t included a personal message that this event had made her think of me, specifically. Intrigued, I opened the event page at exactly 12:01pm on April 7th, 2013 to find that it was in fact a notice to audition for what looked like a Cirque troupe here in Austin. An audition that in fact had started just one minute before I opened the invite on that very day.

Image Credit: ashleeholmes.buzznet.com

“Too bad I missed it, looks kind of cool,” was my first thought. Then, “well, I don’t have plans today…but I also don’t have a way to get there, or anything prepared.” Again, “well it looked interesting, maybe in the future.” Then, I told a friend of a friend who was staying in our apartment about it as I fixed my coffee. And suddenly I had the offer of a ride, just like that.  Wait, what?  “No, I’m not going, it already started.  I don’t have anything prepared.”

And that’s when I realized that I was saying “no.” I didn’t need a perfected audition piece, I had dozens of sequences on my trapeze, stage presence, a love of improvising dances on my apparatus, and I could RSVP to the audition and see if they still had any spots open for me to come in. To which I received an almost immediate “yes” back. And suddenly I was committed. I was auditioning for a troupe. Which was fine, I could always try it and see if it was for me, I could always say “no” later, in other words.

Somewhere around the part where we improvised physical theater with each other, I had decided these might be my kind of people. Yes, I was that stubborn about it. It wasn’t until the day that the cast was to be announced and I was anxiously checking my email that I really owned that I wanted to be a part of this group. And it wasn’t until two weeks later, back in Austin and attending rehearsals, timidly trying to learn the awesome dance skills other people were bringing to the table that I started to understand my own resistance and why this opportunity was so special.

See, I hadn’t truly been a part of a group, a whole heart committed, 3-4+ days a week of rehearsals kind of group in five years. I’d dipped my toe into being a part of a circus group in NYC just before I left, but I’d never been able to participate much more than showing up for performances with my own act. I was overbooked, and that felt like all they needed from me anyways. That left my own theater group, which I’d disbanded exhausted, wanting more experience and more time to create my own work, five years prior. On my way to NYC, I learned that I was a core member of the troupe Crash Alchemy back in Austin TX and that we’d be putting on a show in just 5 weeks, on May 18th.

Okay, I didn’t really know what that meant, but I knew I would be dancing and acting and creating and trapezing. I wanted to be a part of building this group, of creating something together. I’d fallen into a family of people who somehow magically wanted to make the kind of things that I wanted to make. And it had all almost happened by accident.  Or maybe by sheer force of the Universe reminding me to say “yes” and stop being so stubborn all the time. It was okay to commit to this. I was more creative, making more art in my life, not less. And the people in the group were there for each other, talented and into the vision of working in multiple disciplines. I think somehow I’d believed that I couldn’t find another group I’d love as much as my hand selected theater group years before. And I’d believed that committing to a group again would stunt my own work again. At the same time, I kept craving and wondering why I couldn’t find community in NYC.  Well, no wonder when I’m this gun shy about commitment, huh.  Head. Trapeze Bar.

May 18th has come and gone with spectacle and love and just more and more amazing talent, community and group love and support.   I am learning what it means to be a part of the right creative family for me, ups and downs, exhaustion and success.  And I wholeheartedly love it and am honored to be a part of it.

Image Credit: Ed Lehmann

 

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Musings on Community

I asked the Universe for a community. Specifically, I asked for artists to work with and work off of. Something akin to my experiences at Sarah Lawrence College, where I could open my bedroom door to talented dancers and nutrition gurus, stomp my foot on the floor at the genius fellow writer living below me and stumble down the stairs to a late night chat with actors, activists and science nerds.  Even better, all of these wonderful people were my friends.  I want this experience in New York. In fact, most of these connections and friendships are why I moved to NYC in the first place.

But there is something about that brilliant microcosm of school that doesn’t translate into the larger world.  Its just too big.  And there’s no outward system controlling who you get to include in your community bubble.  You might want to work with some twenty people, but without a project, a rehearsal space or a neighborhood to bind you together, it seems like fitting even the time for a coffee in, can seem insurmountable.

Because of course, community takes work.  It takes a frequent reaching out, it takes time to listen as well as time to share. It takes time to just catch up before any of the real brainstorming or art juices even start to flow, like ungunking the spout.  And who has the time?

Perhaps it is a uniquely big apple problem.  I mean in a country that values work, individualism, and success; new york city is arguably the true capital.  With long commute times, high rent prices, a saturated market, and a constant influx of less tired creatives, its no wonder that if you can make it here, you can make it anywhere.  So is it really the place to be to make your best work? Sure, any kind of artist you can dream up to collaborate with is a stones throw or a craigslist ad away.  But how much energy can you expect from your team in a world of struggling to survive artists?

Or is all that pressure what makes us better and more focused?  You know, the diamond analogy.

Maybe this is why I find the communities that do arise in the midst of the city so impressive. Its almost more of a commitment than a monogamous marriage, the choice to insulate yourself within a group of support and creation.  And in a city of bright lights, you’re going to want to make sure that you select that group with just as much care and consideration as you would a spouse.

So with all these thoughts on the struggle, the sweat and beatings of our city’s life, my sister’s question hangs in my mind. “Why do you live there?”

For me, perhaps the answer is as mysterious as true love.  I may dream of (and occasionally even act on) dalliances with sunny, surfer beach communities, love affairs with private mountain
retreats, or adventures in unexplored (at least to me) foreign locals.  But at the end of the month, I can’t imagine not returning to where I call home.

Image Credit: Zazzle

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