The Future

Quitting your day job elicits exactly two stages of response.

The first is Envy. Non-theatre folk - a category which covers most of the people I worked with at the Kellogg School of Management over the past 5 years - get that wistful look people get at the end of Rudy: a preposterously melodramatic indulgence in sentiment as they watch the someone "do what they LOVE" and "follow their DREAMS."

Among theatre people, this first stage is marked by the surfacing of a frustration and a desire for release so palpable and overwhelming it borders on the sexual. "JE-sus, I wish I could get out of here. If I have to continue the movie metaphor - and clearly I must - I feel a little like I'm starring in high-quality porn: right now, I am walking wish fulfillment.

And that's all well and good, but that's only the first stage. And sometimes the Envy Stage only lasts a fraction of a second before the next stage comes along, the one that take into account I have quit a well-paying, secure job in what is universally acknowledged as The Worst Economic Crisis Since the Great Depression (or, among my cohort, "this shitty situation"). Yes, the second stage is Fear and Pity, and it manifests pretty much the same way for theatre and non-theatre folk alike: a brief pause out of respect for my feelings and possibly my intelligence - perhaps they are going back over what I have said to see if I have already given them some hint of the answer to the obvious question. Then, cautiously, "So ... what are you going to do?"

Well, now it can be told, at least in part: It was made official via press release yesterday that I am the new Managing Director at the side project theatre company. This has been in the works for a while - Nick Keenan brought me into discussions with Adam Webster and the rest a few months back where we talked about where the company was headed and what I might be able to do to help. My job in the near term is going to be putting a lot of structure into place where no structure (or unsustainable structure) existed before. A big chunk will also be (unsurprisingly) catching the side project up to what the rest of us have been doing out here on the internets for a few years - really developing an online presence for the company. And there will be many, many other things that come up along the way - I'm excited to be able to tell you all about some changes to the company's mission that I think will mean some exciting new things happening up in Rogers Park.

Additionally, I've been officially brought on to the team at Marshall Creative - a marketing agency helmed by Schadenfreuder Sandy Marshall and powered fairly exclusively by people from Chicago's theatre and comedy scenes - with the impressive-sounding title of Social Networking Director. This is a pretty big bucket, but Sandy and I have been talking a lot over the past few months about some projects showcasing effective, integrated marketing on Facebook, Twitter, Wordpress and the like. As that develops, I'll certainly be talking about it here.

Neither of these things will, at least in the short term, really pay the bills. I have a small amount of money saved up, which will be a nice cushion for me to focus on really getting off on the right foot on these two huge, cool projects. And, of course, my hunt for agency representation continues - new headshots will be ordered soon and I'll be laying down a voice over demo this weekend. As always - anyone who wants to lend a hand on that front will be received immediately!

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I should also note with glee that the post-Touch stage hiatus is over. I will be stepping into the shoes (possibly literally) of the redoubtable Ian Novak to play George Tesman when he departs Raven Theatre's run of Hedda Gabler at the end of June. Then in August, I'll be working with Jen Shook's Caffeine Theatre on Under Milk Wood directed by ascending-star Paul Holmquist and featuring a cast of people who are far, far cooler than me. There are a few things in the works for post September - but I don't want to jinx it. Stay tuned!

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For those of you who are wondering (and still reading), as all this is very new, I haven't quite figured out how this effects a couple of other loves of my life. The Chicago Theater Database is long overdue for its facelift and upgrade out of beta, and poor Theatre That Works has been stalled for several weeks as I've gotten all of the above worked out. I'm still committed to both, I just need to figure out how to make it all move at once.

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Theatre That Works

Here it comes, folks - Theatre That Works. Read on for the skinny on my new web venture, and how you can contribute right this instant!

TTW grew out of my experience of 3 years writing this blog. In that time, I've increasingly found myself wanting to write about a wider range of personal projects both in theatre and out, as well as longer pieces on the theatre more akin to traditional journalism. In the past few months the number of projects I've gotten into - in social media, arts marketing and management, the world of commercial acting, and more - has multiplied, and my list of Chicago-theatre-specific stories I want to investigate has gotten ever longer. So it seemed like a good opportunity to split the Gordian knot once and for all.

The aim of TTW is a lot like that of the Chicago Theatre Database - to share information about the community with the community. Where the CTDB compiles the dates and names, TTW compiles the stories. The slate - and the site - will be developing for a while, but here are the bullets:

• Interviews We'll be sitting down with the hardest working people in town to find out where they got started, how they make it happen and what keeps them going.
• Features There are a million stories in the Windy City, and not all of them have to do with financial problems or capital campaigns.
  
• History Chicago's theatre community is a nation of immigrants. It's time we all got schooled about when Shakes was above a bar and John Malkovich had hair and pissed onstage.
• Other fun stuff - I have some ideas about fun features for the site, some of which will be rolling out in the near future - like a Twitter round-up from behind the scenes of the weekend's rehearsals, auditions and performances and a Battle of the Show Blurbs. Stay tuned!

One thing you won't be seeing is reviews. Frankly, I think there are more than enough people willing to tell you whether a show is worth seeing. (And we've all been in bad shows - who needs their nose rubbed in it by their friends?) What interests me is the conversation - what does a show make you think about when you walk away, how does it affect your day, or your work? The intersections of artist as audience is something I want to explore - not thumbs angled in judgement.

As you can tell, I'm very excited. Hopefully, we'll start publishing this week (technical issues permitting) - and I've already talked to a few folks who are known for their pen as well as practicing the performing arts, who I think will lend a great perspective (as well as sustainability).

So please check out the site-in-progress, and follow us on twitter. There's going to be plenty of stuff to do!

Photo Call

Theatre That Works wants to tell the story of Chicago theatre is words and pictures! We're looking for production photos, rehearsal photos, set or prop construction photos - we want them all, provided they're dynamic* and high-quality. To find out more, drop me a line!

*When I say dynamic, I am particularly ruling out everyone's standard "2-5 people staring meaningfully" production shot. There better be something going on in the photo, either compositionally or physically.

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It's About You, Too

By now, you've all heard about About Face's money troubles and their campaign for $300,000 to keep its doors open - either from the media or from emails from the company. I get these direct appeals fairly frequently these days, and I'm used to politely explaining to the Annual Fund staffers at Steppenwolf or the Goodman that I am, in fact, an actor, and that despite my occasional ability to pay for a mezzanine seat in the Albert, I'm probably not a good target for a fundraising pitch.

Lord knows this hasn't changed - it's actually gotten worse, given my impending (and yes, entirely self-inflicted) joblessness. But this morning I got another of those email solicitations, and I went ahead and kicked them $30, even though it tightens my already tight budget, and I'll tell you why.

It's not simply because they have launched an incredibly smart campaign of pesonal endorsements, though as a proponent of tech-savvy theatre marketing, I want to reward that sort of effort.

Nor is it because they've been upfront about their situation without being hysterical - and have taken smart steps like drastically reducing expenses before making public appeals, though that speaks to me as a lover of good management.

It's not just because About Face does good work, and still takes risks even as they've become a venerable institution.

It's not simply because in a sea of companies founded on little more than hubris, ego, and a vague concept of "challenging audiences," About Face has an honest-to-gosh mission that permeates everything they do and (though this point is a little sad) they are about the only ones serving their constituency. Though certainly, as a kid who owes every ounce of what's good in his life to transformations brought about by having a theatre to play in, I can only imagine the lifeline About Face's Youth Theatre is for LGBTQA kids who face growing up in a social climate that leaves my teenaged melodramas in the dust.

Those are great reasons, sure - but I'll give you another one. Perhaps it's not as powerful or or as direct a point, but I think it has special resonance for those of us who love Chicago theatre, love working in Chicago theatre, and want to see this city really take ownership of its theatre scene and shed that damnable "Second City" moniker once and for all.

Moments before I read this morning's appeal email, I read this in Richard Christiansen's book A Theater of Our Own. Having just detailed the 16-year rise and fall of the storied Remains Theatre, he says:

"Surveying the deaths and catastrophies that had come upon the off-Loop community, John Walker, managing director of Victory Gardens, said, succinctly, 'The field is littered with bodies.' And Remains was not the only theater to go under. Once-productive off-Loop groups such as Stormfield, Huron, Econo-Art, Blind Parrot, Interplay, Immediate, Commons, Blue Rider, Practical, Center and Absolute theaters, igLoo the theatrical group, and Pary Productions all faded away, mostly because of financial problems and/or ensemble breakups.

The disappearance of St. Nicholas, Wisdom Bridge, Body Politic, and Remains, all midsize (up to 250 seats) houses that had played key roles in spurring the remarkable growth of activity in the seventies, created a void in the theater community, unfortunately widening the gap between new, small, low-income troupes and older, larger, more prosperous institutions."

I doubt there's another Chicago actor who's looked at the financial side of Chicago theatres more than me, and I can tell you without a doubt that this gap still exists. Successful mid-sized companies are critical for this city to have a a sustainable scene and for any of us - especially us actors - to actually have a job doing theatre here. Think about it: without the About Face's - or the TimeLine's or the Northlight's - who's going to pay you anything to get up on stage while you're waiting to play 3rd spearcarrier on the left at Chicago Shakes? And for those of you who run small companies, it's those mid-sized theatres that actually help create audiences for your work by showing people that theatre exists outside of 500-or-more-seat venues.

So consider kicking in a little for About Face. Think of it this way - you've spent countless hours painting sets or cleaning costumes or seeing friends' shows for $10 or $15 bucks a pop: not only is a contribution to About Face a worthy effort in and of itself, its another way to show your support for all of Chicago theatre - your friends, your colleagues, and yourself.

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What Brave New World

My blog-hibernation for the last month belies a flurry of activity, as well as alternating currents of euphoria and terror which, if nothing else, are equally exhilarating. I am 87 days away from departing full-time, salary-paying, benefits-bestowing employment for ... something else, and I've been figuring out how one makes that transition without, well, dying in a gutter. Much of it has been a process of pushing harder on fronts that until now had only been things I pursued when I had the time, in an effort to see if some amount of income might be on the horizon. In other cases, I'm taking the opportunity to take a big bite out of projects I relegated to the "if I had all the time in the world" bin, because I figure if I'm doing something crazy, why not do several crazy things?

What follows is a recap of what's happened so far, and a preview of what's coming soon.

Touch closed February 14th, to full houses. On top of all the things I've said here and elsewhere about the fantastic process and product produced by the New Leaf crew and the just stellar group that I got to work with, I'm reasonably sure that the show was a watershed for me. I am, of course, grateful for the loads of support and the nice things said about my performance, as any young actor looking to advance his career would be. But more importantly, I got the opportunity to take on a central, dramatic role and did not fall on my face. For now, at least, it's taken some of the edge off the unrelenting desire to prove myself - if to no one except myself. I've found that in the midst of a rather chaotic period, it's surprisingly comforting.

A day after Touch closed I came down with the bubonic flu that seems to be going around, and was laid out in a way that I don't really have any comparison for: it left me unable to do any work at all for a week, and even several weeks later, I'm still feeling the lingering effects.

Thanks to Nick "The All-Giver" Keenan, I've been working with Sandy Marshall on some freelance projects - most notably, crafting seminars to teach the less tech-savvy the benefits and the basics of social networking, along with some strategies for how to augment offline work with online tools. It's a new world for me, but one I'm finding I'm fairly well-suited to. And, as any teacher will tell you, figuring out how to explain things to others clarifies them for you, so I'm discovering tips and tricks for myself, as well.

The long New Headshot Saga has finally wrapped up: I finally bit the bullet and shelled out the big bucks for a session with Janna Giacoppo. You've probably heard this name before - many, many actors in town have used her - and with good reason. Janna and her team were incredibly helpful and the whole shoot was incredibly laid back - which got me some great results. These will probably show up somewhere on this site at some point, but check out her site, and seriously consider her if you need new shots and have the money to spend. It's well worth it.

The New Headshot Saga was sped to its conclusion as a necessary plot development for the longer, sisyphian Agent Saga. I've been fairly criminally negligent in pursuing commercial work or representation in the past - the all-consuming nature of my day-job has been a limiting factor - so I know that these things take time, are often a case of luck or happenstance, and that impatience or a sense of entitlement lead to nothing but ulcers. I've gotten a lot of great advice from folks further down the road than I, and I have a good plan for "getting myself out there" as they say, and I'm content that all avenues that can be explored are being explored. That being said, if you know of any opportunities, I'm interested in hearing more - drop me a line at dan [at] chicagotheaterdb [dot] com.

Speaking of the Chicago Theater Database, as Nick has noted, we recently added a slew of new beta-testers to the site, which has revealed a number of much-needed user-interface improvements. Unfortunately, Nick's consumed with the Goodman's O'Neill Festival, and my programming skills still aren't quite up to the task. The hope is that in the next few months we'll be able to make some big improvements, leading up to the grand door-opening in the spring or summer. Stay tuned.

The whetting stone upon which I'm sharpening my site development and design skills is a ground-up rebuilding of the online home of my boys behind the cameras, Very Clever Productions. There's no official timeline for that project, but sooner is better for all concerned, so I'll point you to anything interesting that might come up along the way.

Lastly, the biggest development of the last several months will have some big impacts on this space. I'm knee-deep in the development of a new site dedicated to writing about the people and the art of Chicago theatre. The biggest difficulty I've had in writing I, Homunculus has been trying to serve two masters: writing about my personal experience as my career develops, and the yen to do something bigger, to rectify the fact that - in my opinion - you can't get more than a partial view of Chicago's theatre scene from the writing generally-available. A big part of the problem is, of course, the fact that theatre coverage is lately the ne'er-do-well nephew of commercial media outlets: a nice-to-have-but-certainly-not-crucial luxury to be indulged sparingly, and only when it can be afforded. My thought is to create a place for writing about Chicago theatre that's produced in the same way most Chicago theatre gets produced - as a labor of passionate artists that asks no more than what it takes to sustain the mission. My plan is to launch on March 27th as part of the World Theatre Day celebrations. I'll post a larger and more detailed announcement soon, but there's good stuff in the works. Watch this space.

This means the ol' Homunculus will probably undergo some changes as well - but just what that looks like, I'm not sure.

That's all for now - it's good to be back!

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Referendum

Those of you following my newly inaugurated Twitter feed will know that this past Thursday, I got an unexpected call from Chicago Shakespeare to fill a slot in their general musical auditions today. This wasn't wholly unexpected - I had sent in my materials to CST when they had an open call for submissions a few months ago, and I sent a couple of "come out and see Touch emails to the casting authorities there. But the short notice, and the fact that this was a musical audition (and I haven't really kept the showtune fires burning since 1776 closed almost a year ago), I was more than a little anxious about how to proceed.

One of the big mental shifts that must accompany a person's transition from Theatrical Hobbyist to Theatrical Professional is to stop seeing auditions - no matter how big the company or project - as referenda on one's Talent, Skill, or (you know who you are) Worth as a Human Being, and to start seeing them as opportunities to meet new people, make new connections and to demonstrate what it is you've learned and built so far about the practice of your craft. To put it simply, I've been on enough auditions to know that you will fail if you try to show them What They Want To See - because you really, truly have no idea. You're best (and probably only) bet is to give yourself every chance to reveal yourself at the top of your game, as it stands on that particular day.

I feel good about how my audition went - but the fact is, I felt good about it before I even walked in there. If an audition is a chance to reflect and call upon what one has learned and built, I am immensely pround and humbled and grateful by the assistance and support that was immediately at my disposal when I asked for it: from Jess Hutchinson coming down to Touch early to help me run over a backup monologue, to Andra Velis Simon's patient advice and willingness to give up part of her jealously guarded Sunday morning (not to mention that or her husband) to do an emergency vocal coaching session and help me look like less of a musical theatre rube. And from my sometimes-stern-but-always-supportive supervisors at work who let me cut out of work to prepare to my sister, jetlagged, using some of the mere 48 hours she had back in LA between her honeymoon and another out-of-town engagement to call and give me some much-needed counsel. And all my friends from as near as up the block to as far away as Wales sending me encouragement, positive vibes and well-wishes, and waiting to hear how it went afterward.

Way to often we walk out of auditions thinking, "How can I live like this?" We build them up so much and get so little satisfaction from them that it's hard not to do the math and say, "This ain't worth it."

But if auditions are a referendum - a brash "What Have You Got?" - well, this time around I saw what I got. And as I've found in so many ways over the past few years, it's way more than I expected, or possibly even deserve.

And I can certainly live with that.

And if that wasn't enough, as I made my way through the mall-like interior of Navy Pier, I passed this sign on a platform in the center pavilion, reserved for the children's entertainment that the Pier offers during the day:


I didn't come here to be safe, after all. I came here to be an actor.

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Do It for Will

Hey guys - I'm sure most, if not all of you have read this or gotten emails about this via other Chicagotheatreans, but I know some of you who read this are not Chicago-based - and I hope you might take this as a personal request to lend a hand.

As Nick says today, there is a benefit event for Chicago actor Will Schutz at Hydrate tonight, helping to raise money for Will's medical expenses. It seems Will's got pancreatic cancer which, for those of you who aren't oncologists, isn't the good kind of cancer.

This hits home for me in a number of ways - first, i know Will - both from the stage (I loved him in the Sherlock Holmes adaptations at City Lit and his recent - like a couple of months ago - turn in Signal's The Birthday Party which has been on everyone's "Best of" lists, it seems) and from the bar. Secondly, my dad is recovering from cancer-related surgery and my uncle is battling his malignancies much less well, which apart from being draining in and of itself does not bode well for my personal cellular integrity down the road. And lastly, Will's financial situation can't be helped by the fact that - as he related at a recent audition - he quit his job after "busting his hump for two years at a crappy day job" so he could buy himself time to focus on what he loved - performing. Given my own plans and hopes and fears for the near future, I need to believe that we, as a community - not just of shared location but of shared vocation - will reach out to help one another in times of dire need, even when the systems of our society leave us a pretty steep hill to climb.

So do what you can, please:

Our friend Will is currently fighting an illness and, per usual, his hospital bills are pilling up way, way, way beyond his means. Chicago bar HYDRATE (3458 N Halsted St) has very kindly donated their space to the friends of Will (and friends of friends, and strangers!) on Friday, January 23rd between 9 PM and 11 PM in order that we might come together to support our friend and offer up what we can to assist him financially. It’s PAY WHAT YOU CAN, with a suggested donation of $20, though any amount will get you an open bar (well drinks, domestic beer, wine, juice and soda), appetizers and some pretty terrific live entertainment, not to mention new friends. Every penny goes to Will.

If you’re not able to help out financially, no one understands that better than theatre folks and their friends. But we hope you’ll at least consider coming out to show your emotional support in person. And whether you’re able to make it or not, please keep him in your minds and hearts each and every day. He has requested ALL of your prayers and thoughts and well-wishes. God knows, Will is worth every penny you’re able to give, and every ounce of your energy and efforts. And if you don’t know him personally, trust us.

***If you want to donate but can’t come on the 23rd, you can at willschutzpancan.chipin.com ***

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Into the Dark

A noted Chicago actor - who was in the middle of an emotionally raw role in a rather unflinchingly dark play - said of his process, "You can't let yourself get too far from those emotions. You have to live in that space or you'll never really get back."

I think this is bullshit, to be sure. I've told this story many times, and the consensus seems to be that - if that actor was really saying what he appeared to be saying - his method is the surest path toward interpersonal ruin and possibly a full-on psychotic break. At the very least, the sentiment strikes me as profoundly adolescent and selfish, especially coming from someone who (unlike most actors) does not have to hold down a full-time job where that kind of volatility is frowned upon.

When I tell the story to fellow players, many have glibly interjected, "it's called acting," as if to suggest that this actor was either a) bereft of skill or b) so far gone already that he couldn't distinguish between life and drama. I don't think either of these things are true, and what's more, I've always instinctively recoiled from that sort of pat dismissal. Of course, we are portraying people we are not in situations constructed to be dramatic. And yes, there should be an acknowledgment of that distinction somewhere in one's brain. But somehow the word "acting" in the popular lexicon has taken on a sense of conscious artifice, of an intent to deceive, of pretending or even manipulation that's always seemed to me at least to be different from my experience (if not the purpose) of playing.

Touch is an emotionally intense show, and living through Kyle's story night after night is the biggest challenge I have yet faced as an actor. I'm not going to claim it's harrowing - only people who've gone through Kyle's sort of tragedy for real get that privilege - but throughout this process, I've had to go down some exceedingly dark alleys and conjure some terrible shadow plays populated by those closest to me. I'm a typically upbeat person - sometimes aggressively so, and I've found that sometimes I collapse back into my own persona at the end of the night and crack a not-particularly-funny joke or do something ridiculous just to put as much distance between me and Kyle as I can. "It's only acting," I remind myself.

But over the last few weeks, I have to admit I've been unsuccessful in leaving it all on the stage at the end of the night. My brain tells me I'm being precious - it's just theatre, and still I'm here to report that thinking doesn't necessarily make it so, but feeling it in some way does. The shadows I swim through on the way to Kyle's climax and catharsis have gotten under my skin. I've found myself a little more in need of reassurance and comfort from those around me, and that the most calculated manipulations of primetime dramas wreck havok on my frayed emotions.

My friend Steve teaches performance theory across the pond, and of particular interest to him is the idea (in the vein of Augusto Boal) of performance as rehearsal for life. I have a sense that part of what attracted me to this story - what made me want to play Kyle from the first time I read the script - was a recognition that contained herein was the story of true love at it's most hopeful and heartbreaking. Arrayed before us is all our fondest wishes for a connection with another human being, and everything we fear we will lose in those moments of midnight dread. Some part of me looked at this role and saw an opportunity to see what it is - indeed, might one day be - to live through those experiences.

I believe that the process of creating a character is a negotiation wherein you are consciously playing mediator between the person you think you are and the person you think you're portraying. In the best case scenario, you have enough common ground to establish a conversation, and build from there. I've been fortunate in that I've seen something of myself in each role I've had - and I've worked with many wonderful directors and collaborators who've helped me, in many cases, break down the borders completely. Sometimes I've ended up with a character that's bigger than the role the script assigns me, and I have to scale it back. The gift I've been given in Touch is the license to go all in, and as a result, when I hit that stage I feel less like I'm playing a role than giving voice to a version of myself. Which is extrordinary, terrifying, and fascinating.

So while I don't demand or relish the sometimes disrupting bleed-over from Kyle's life to mine, I'm not disturbed by it either. It means that I'm hitting close to the mark, that I'm invested, that I'm equally present in the good and bad moments. And that, I think, is what we call acting.

Touch opens tomorrow.

Photography by Lindsay Theo

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