Kick some arse. . .
It's so, so easy to be weighted down by those who say you aren't, can't, shouldn't, didn't. It's toxic. It's paralyzing. And it's the death of growth, hope and creativity. The more patina I acquire, the more I believe that if you never go out on a limb you'll always have an obstructed view. (Copyright, TM, my fantasy lawyers will come after you.) It may break, you may fail, you may experience some difficult losses. But I love trees and I'm staying out on the limb. When the fall comes, I'm gonna keep getting up off my arse, examining myself, learning from my mistakes and finding a new limb. It's harder to get back up sometimes, but it's always worth it. Now more than ever. Read More
On the villain. . .
Last spring I was thrilled to be a part of the Raven Theatre cast that brought THE OLD FRIENDS to the midwest. (And only the second full production in the U.S.) I got close and cuddly with Julia Price, a brash, glamorous, desperate villain of a gal who will stop at nothing to retain her position as beauty queen, power broker and man magnet in Harrison, Texas. Stuck in a forced marriage with a man she hates, she is a lonely, angry gal who has filled the emptiness and lack of love in her life with booze, men, and vanity that is carefully preserved with her big, big bank account. That loneliness is carefully masked with a brittle gaiety, charm and acidity that breaks only when pushed to the farthest extreme. In the meantime, she'll cut your legs out from under you as soon as look at you. Cross her at your peril boys and girls.
And what did I discover? A deeper understanding of fear and loneliness as powerful negative energy sources. And playing the villain is a blast. Read More
The limbs on the trees. . .
If you follow my Tweets, which have been minimal of late, I equate this profession of theatre with the act of going out on a limb, practically on a daily basis. (Maybe that's why I love the treeees.) And my mantra is:
"If you don't go out on a limb, you always have an obstructed view."
Yes I wrote that incredibly pithy, brilliant statement - after a critic's remark about a character I inhabited that was way out there. Purposefully. And I'm glad she was out there. Because I love that limb. Sometimes it's long and lithe. Sometimes it's hard to grasp the stub. And sometimes the damn thing breaks and you bust your posterior. That's the soul soaring, soul crushing world of theatre. Ain't it grand? Read More