As an artist, I often find myself operating from a place of mild discontentment or dissatisfaction. It comes from a place of striving for improvement, it's a positive drive despite sounding incredibly negative. Perhaps it stems from being a goth at heart or maybe just from being a depressive artist. It makes sense to me. In any event, I typically end a performance or a run (or frankly, even just a cooked meal) without some consideration of my output and figuring out where there's room for improvement. I take immense pride in my work and I never want to get lazy about it. I did a show two years ago now (cripes, has it almost been that long?) called The Double with Babes With Blades Theatre Company and it is in no way an exaggeration to say that it changed my life. In the two-year process I spent in the lead up to that production, I met the love of my life and learned an entirely new skill set from scratch. I'm the only person, so far as I know, that has ever read that character in public and when I finally got to perform the role, I wasn't ever really satisfied with my performance.
Last night, I closed The Caucasian Chalk Circle, produced by Promethean Theatre Ensemble and it was one of the absolute best experiences I've ever had in my career. Considering that it was the first production of my 25th season, I hope that the point is adequately made. It was a monstrously huge cast for Chicago storefront theatre; 15 people in the cast and a wonderful assemblage of weirdos it was. Closing a show is always a sad event, but this has been particularly crushing for me; I've been on the edge of tears a few times today and last night and I haven't cried on a closing night in twenty years. Part of it stems from the fact that, given the nature of the rehearsal process we had, and a number of small crises that we worked through, we established a very intense, emotional bond as a cast. Casts are always small, short-term families, but this was even more so than usual. Some of the people I had the pleasure of working with are people that intend will be friends of mine for the rest of my life. Tonight though, I realized the big reason why this closing hit me as hard as it has.
I am completely satisfied with my performance. I managed to give the exact performance I was aiming for. It was what the piece needed and it was what I had hoped to achieve. That was a profound realization for me. It's not all because of me, mind you; I shared the stage with some immense talents and was supported by our director, Ed Rutherford. The two amazingly talented actors who were instrumental in my performance were Sara Gorsky and +Anne Lentino (who I have fallen deeply, madly in actor love with) and together we were able to build a moment of despair and heartbreak in the middle of the chaos of the show. A moment of quiet and pain shared between me and Sara. In that moment, I was the actor I've spent the last quarter century trying to be. It hurts that that moment is gone. I've been there though, and I'm pretty sure that I'll manage to get there again; I have to get there again. I can't accept anything less than that of myself. It's a great feeling. It's a terrible feeling. I miss my friends, I miss Grusinia.
But you, who have listened to the story of the Chalk Circle
Take note of the meaning of the ancient song:
That what there is shall belong to those best for it
The children to good mothers, that they thrive
The carriages to good drivers, that they are driven well
And the valley to the waterers, that they may bear fruit.
