My Year of Hopefulness - Chasing Down Inspiration

"You can't wait for inspiration. You have to go after it with a club." ~ Jack London, author

Before 2009, I used to think of inspiration a something that just hits us. I kept a folder of inspirational pictures, stories, quotes, and clippings that I trolled through when I needed some uplifting thoughts and none seemed to find me. I believed in writer's block and the mystical muse of creativity who decided if, when, and how to show up in our lives. No more. After a year of actively seeking out hope and writing about it every day, I believe in the Jack London method, my inspiration-chasing club always at the ready.

In New York City, we're lucky that chasing down inspiration means just putting on a pair of shoes and walking outside our doors. Inspiration is everywhere. We have a host of amazing museums that I visit frequently (thanks to my employer's fantastic perk that gets us into almost every museum in New York for free!) Central Park and Riverside Park are two blocks away from my apartment. Broadway, off-Broadway, and off-off Broadway are burgeoning with some of the most inventive work to come along in decades. Bookstores are on nearly every corner, and there is no shortage of fascinating lectures, readings, and continuing ed classes in every subject, at every level. And if all else fails, just take a walk around the block, any block. You're sure to find some characters.

In other cities, some much smaller than New York, inspiration abound as well. In Orlando, Florida, I found the largest collection of Tiffany glass in the world. In Charlottesville, Virginia, I had some of the best meals of my life. In my own hometown of Highland, New York, the view from the Catskill Mountains still takes my breathe away. In Providence, Rhode Island, I saw one of the finest productions of Moon for the Misbegotten that I've ever seen.

Inspiration is everywhere - all we need to do is get out into the world and look. We can travel thousands of miles from home, or we can hang around in our own backyard. What matters is the pursuit: do we want to be inspired and are we willing to "sift the sands of the desert to see what we can find," as Clarissa Pinkola Estes says so eloquently in Women Who Run with the Wolves? If the answer is yes, then there are adventures upon adventures just waiting for us to hope on board. And if you can get your hands on a big club, that may help, too.

The image above is not my own. It can be found here.

My Year of Hopefulness - Climb Up A Ways

One of the first Broadway shows I worked on was Cabaret at Studio 54. I would sit in the back of the theatre night after night and watch that story unfold, every show more beautiful than the show before. One of my favorite lines is from Herr Schultz (played by Ron Rifkin) to Fräulein Schneider (played by Blair Brown). Herr Schultz is trying to convince Fräulein Schneider to enter into a relationship with him, despite the fact that he is Jewish and the world is looking a little bleak for people of his heritage. He tells her that the apples at the base of tree are easy to pick up, though the fruit at the top of tree, if she is willing to climb up a ways, is so much sweeter. I worked on that show almost 11 years ago, and still I think of that line and how applicable it is to our lives every day.

I feel comfortable admitting in this blog post that very soon I will be moving on to a new position in my career. I've had an honest conversation with my boss and explained my intentions. I hope she understands. At the end of the day, the future of her team that she's laid out is just not what gets me going. I completely understand that she's in charge of the team and has every right to change the direction of the bus. My obligation is to decide whether or not to whole-heartedly get on the bus. I've decided to actively look for a new bus, and there are some stupendous options on the horizon.

Some people think I'm a little crazy for making this move. I've done a lot of good work in my position; I've built solid relationships that would serve me so well and get me promoted quickly. If only I could put my head down, keep my mouth shut, and phone it in just the way that I've been scripted, I'd be just fine. I could coast right through to the end of this recession no matter how long it lasts.

Those who know me a bit better just smile and nod when I say I'm looking for new opportunities that get me up out of bed in the morning. They know I'm not built for coasting. Yes, coasting is much easier in that it requires no exertion on my part. The trouble is that for me coasting is just an unbearable existence. Putting the pedal to the metal and 'trying to get up that great big hill of hope' is more my style. Herr Schultz was right: The vistas up there are so much wider and more open and beautiful. Fräulein Schneider didn't know what she was missing.

The photo above is not my own. It can be found here.

My Year of Hopefulness - In the Beginning

"There will come a time when you believe everything is finished. That will be the beginning." ~ Louis L'Amour

Today marked an end and then a beginning, in one single action. After almost a year of considering how I might help children in public schools in New York City, I mailed off two packages, one to Bronx Charter School for the Arts and one to M.S. 223. Inside the packages is a folder with a cover letter, my resume, and an 8-page concept paper that outlines an after-school program that I'd like to pilot beginning in January 2010. The after-school program uses theatre to teach innovation, product development, and entrepreneurship to 6th grade students.

The journey to the concept paper was a long and winding road:

Early Summer of 2008

Began to consider how I could build an on-line innovation kit for kids

August 2008

Changed jobs and got involved in an at-work volunteer program with Junior Achievement of New York. Wondered if I missed my calling and should become a public school teacher.

December 5, 2008

Volunteered for a day-long program at M.S. 223 in the Mott Haven neighborhood of the South Bronx. Felt scared, responsible, and at home, all at once. I taught economics for a day to 7th graders. I got more of an education than the students did that day. Have been thinking about those kids every day since.

May 17, 2009

Started building my first draft of the concept paper, initially named "Innovation Workbook". It was terrible. I was afraid to show it to anyone because I'd thought they'd laugh at the idea. Put my fears aside and kept working.

June 3, 2009

Wrote the first draft of a mission statement, or what I termed "A Reason for Being". It was awful, though I began to think that I might be on to something.

mid-June 2009

Began to talk to some friends about the concept. No one laughed; they got very excited about the idea and that got me more excited. They had great ideas. I used all of them to build a better concept. My friend, Liz, offered the idea to make this an after-school program rather than try to build it in to the traditional curriculum.

July 4th weekend, 2009

I started sending a rough draft of the concept paper to my friends who offered their ideas and were excited about the project. I knew the paper was terrible but the idea was getting better. My friends offered more help, more advice. The concept kept getting better.

July 23, 2009

Named the project Innovation Station while laying on my couch, unsuccessfully trying to take a nap. Decided to use short theatre scripts as a way to communicate the material.

Early August 2009

While reading the book, Eiffel's Tower, decided to feature famous innovators throughout history as part of Innovation Station.

August 2009

Continued to revise the concept paper, did more research. Many friends suggested I dig into data to prove the need and value of my program. Was startled by the statistics I read about after-school programming and public school education in inner-cities. Kept shopping around my ideas and taking any and all suggestions. Wrote 8 full drafts in total.

September 15, 2009

Heard about Bronx Charter School for the Arts. Researched them and thought they may be a good fit for Innovation Station. Put them on the very short list with M.S. 223.

September 22, 2009, afternoon

Made a few last minute edits, and dropped the proposals in the mail to M.S. 223 and Bronx Charter School for the Arts in the hopes that one of them will be the pilot program location.

September 22, 2009, evening

Waiting. Hoping. Nervous Excited.

My friend, Jamie, went to the post office with me to put the packages in the mail. I adore him, even though he can be a little curmudgeonly at times. He is exceedingly generous with help, advice, and contacts, despite his rough around the edges personality. It comes from being so brilliant and highly educated. He is one of the friends I count on to keep me grounded. I try to add more whimsy into his life. "So what do you do now?" he asked. I hadn't thought of what I'd do now; I guess I have been worried that I'd just edit myself to the point of being paralyzed. I never imagined myself sealing up the envelopes and dropping them in the mail. I guess I was worried that I'd never figure it out. "I wait," I said to Jamie.

This morning, my old friends, Fear and Self-ridicule, were back with a vengeance. Maybe this was a stupid idea. Maybe it would never help anyone. Maybe no school would ever be interested. Who am I to think I can write curriculum? I began reading and editing again. And something truly miraculous happened. As I re-read the proposal, I got more excited. I began to think that maybe, maybe, maybe this was the beginning on the a life-changing road for me. Just as I was finishing the proposal, I thought "this might be the beginning of something really exciting. I just might be able to help some kid who's facing the same circumstances I faced when I was that age." And with that thought I sealed up the packages and headed for the post office.

Fearing that I'd have a last minute panic attack, I quickly put the packages under the slotted window for the postman to grab and stamp. There was no turning back once he tossed them into the bin. And away they went, into the abyss of mail, on a very simple mission to try to make a difference in one kid's life. I ran for the door and never looked back. I had to get on with my beginning.

My Year of Hopefulness - A Life in Three Acts

With such beautiful weather in New York today, I headed to the park to continue reading Street Gang: The Complete History of Sesame Street. At the start of chapter 16, Michael Davis opens with the line "sometimes life in like the movies, a story in 3 acts." I've been thinking about that line, particularly with respect to my post from yesterday about being in a state of flux with a dash of confusion.

Davis reminded me that in act 2, there is always a series of challenges that the protagonist has to work through. I wonder now at the ripe old age of 33 if I'm at the tail end of the first act or have just entered the second act of my life. This slight act of separation, some might call it delusion, helped me think a little more clearly today. I'm able at this moment to step away from my life a bit, and just observe what's happening in context of a broader set of possible outcomes.

It also helps to know that in every great story there are always twists and turns, that few if any read like fairy tales of sweetness and light. There are fairy tale moments, though they tend to not be the ones that are the most interesting or insightful. The trade-off for learning and insight is often a bit of struggle and discomfort. It involves rising when all we feel like doing is laying low. It asks us to be greater spirits than we believe we can be.

Surviving and thriving through act 2 requires us to take a deep breathe, several if necessary, put our heads down, and get to work, on ourselves and on the exterior circumstances that effect us so that we can sail into act 3, riding high, wiser and more certain of our direction. It helps if our co-stars, friends and family, can help us - a protagonist rarely appears in act 3 triumphant as an island. Guides and assistance often appear as the plot lines intertwine with growing complications, exactly when we need them.

A story takes a while to unravel, to reveal itself to the audience, and to the protagonist. There will be moments of confusion and tough choices to make. It's all part of the drama and the comedy; it's all part of life.

NY Business Strategies Examiner.com: In the Heights

My latest post on Examiner.com - A look at the Broadway show, In the Heights, from a business perspective: http://www.examiner.com/x-2901-NY-Business-Strategies-Examiner~y2009m3d10-In-the-Heights--a-case-of-entrepreneurship-in-the-arts

My Year of Hopefulness - In the Heights

Way back when, I was a very poor new college grad, working for a Broadway management office, and living just off of 190th Street. Despite the long train ride, it was one of the very best experiences of my life to live in that neighborhood. I was the only non-Dominican on my block and I was enchanted by their culture. Maybe even a little jealous of them. At night in my current apartment, I sometimes think back to 190th Street (Wadsworth Terrace, actually) and remember the endless game of dominoes played on that street corner "at the top of the world". Sometimes, I miss it.

Tonight I went to see In the Heights with my friend, Monika. Brilliant, funny, and poignant, it reminded me of all the things I love about live theatre. The music, acting, dancing, writing, and singing made it one of the very best all-around shows I've ever seen. It's a beautiful tribute to an amazing neighborhood and Latin culture. It really is a love letter to New York City. It made me glad and grateful that New York City is my home.

And what I love most about the show is that it was one man's dream to write a show about his neighborhood and his heritage. It doesn't have any complicated plot lines, there's nothing for the audience to "figure out". It's just a beautiful, simple story about life on a block in New York. You meet the colorful personalities, see some of their heartache, some of their joys, and all of their dreams. It's as if for a minute I was back on that block, looking out from my apartment window and watching the comings and goings of average, everyday people. It made me think that maybe there is a story in all of us that is worth telling, and our only job is to tell is honestly, with heart. I'm grateful to Lin-Manuel Miranda for sharing his story with us.

Andre 3000

Have you heard of this guy Andre 3000? I haven't. Outkast, yes. Andre 3000 - nope. Wouldn't know him if I saw him. And I didn't know his name in the midst of a group of people today at happy hour. For so long, I was used to being the youngest member of a group. That switch has flipped, clearly. I wish I could say that I'm not as hip as I used to be. Trouble is I was never hip. Ever.

The conversation then switched to movies. I had mentioned that I just saw Crash on DVD and loved it. For this I was slaughtered by nearly everyone in the group. They hated the movie - they thought it was narrow-minded and too precious. "No one talks like that or thinks like that." "Could you make a more predictable movie?" Yikes. I was not in friendly waters.

So then we switched to books and someone said they were in the middle of A Thousand Splendid Suns, which I just finished. Finally - someone I can relate to! I said how much I enjoyed the book and also loved The Kite Runner (same author). Nope - I was the odd one out again. "That would never happen." "What an unrealistic story." "Too perfect an ending for my liking." Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. And then they all left in a rush. I guess my taste in music, movies, and books cleared the room. 

Needlesstosay, I was happy to get away from those people and back to my cozy apartment among my books and music and movies that I love. (And incidentally, ones that many others love as well - Crash won 3 Oscars including one for best picture and both A Thousand Splendid Suns and The Kite Runner were best-sellers before they even went on sale to the public.) With that crowd, no wonder so many people didn't come out for happy hour. They knew better given the company. Have any of these people read a newspaper, traveled outside of New York City, or even just learned to be polite? My guess is no. A resounding "no". So while I felt bad about myself on the subway ride home, I was also reminded that we all have to howl if we want to find our pack. Clearly, that bunch is not my pack. I better spend my time elsewhere, and that is helpful information to have. 

My Year of Hopefulness - Stage Fright

Today, the theatre group joined, Temporary Shakespeare Company, had its first performance. We did a reading of Comedy of Errors for corporate employees at my company. All morning, I was reminded of how it felt to be on stage and why I didn't pursue that avenue. I have horrible, horrible stage fright. Always. Without fail. 

Today, the stakes were even higher because I played a sorceress in front of people I work with, obviously in a very different capacity. Somehow, standing on that stage with all these other people taking the same risk made my stage fright dissipate. I didn't shake, I didn't feel sick to my stomach. We jumped off the cliff together. And the audience, our co-workers, caught us. 

And maybe that's all it takes to make us let go of our fear, whether on stage or off: a group of people willing to let go of their fear, too.

My Year of Hopefulness - Shakespeare

Did you ever feel like somewhere along the line you lost a piece of yourself? A hobby, a part of your job, a relationship or friendship that you wish you hadn't let just fade away? It happens in life, with all of our comings and goings, that things slip between our fingers into some abyss. The good thing about that abyss is that it's not really that far away and we can easily fish out what we once loved and make it new again. 

Theatre is that candle for me that went out several years ago. I was in it, making it, and then my interest in it just faded away. I was disillusioned by certain practices and the politics and the commercialism of it all. I just cared about the art, and in that field getting the credit (and as much of it as possible) is crucial. Or so I thought....

I recently joined a brand new group at work called Temporary Shakespeare, a soon-to-be nonprofit, that offers free Shakespeare readings, and workshops to help corporate employees attain and maintain work / life balance. Our first show is Comedy of Errors and will be held January 14, 15, and 16. I'm excited about this new venture and what may come of it. At rehearsal today, I felt like I reclaimed a passion that I thought was so long gone, and it was actually just over my shoulder all along.   

October 14, 2001

Several months ago, I submitted a story to Real Simple Magazine to answer the question, "Tell us about one of the most important days of your life in 1500 words or less." I'm sure a lot of people wrote about their wedding day, or their kids bring born, a graduation. I wrote about the marathon I ran in in Chicago in 2001, a month after September 11th. I was on the eve of losing my job and was heart-broken that my city had been violated so terribly. I was angry, confused, and scared. For that month after the attack, I felt alone. The Chicago marathon changed some of those feelings for me, and as it turns out it was one of the most poignant moments of my life. Here's the story:

"In the summer of 2001, I was in Toronto on the Broadway tour of The Full Monty. I was the first person hired full-time for the tour and we had grand plans. I had been working so much that I had neglected my workout schedule and decided a big goal would help me to recommit. In the Fall the tour would be traveling to Chicago, and the Chicago marathon would be in the middle of our run.

I was a cross-country runner in high school and always interested in running a marathon. Chicago was a perfect opportunity! I recruited my friend, Mark, the drummer on the show, to run with me. He wanted to get in better shape, too, and agreed to go the distance with me. I purchased a training book that laid out an ambitious but doable schedule for us and we were off.

Long runs, short runs, speed workouts, stretching, improved eating habits. Mark was with me every step of the way, everyday, with his cheery attitude and lovely British accent. There was no way I could have gotten through the experience without him. Training in Toronto was a magical time in my life because I felt like I was regaining my sense of self. It was easy to get lost in my work, and I needed to rediscover who I was and where my life was going. This training helped me do that.

Before Chicago, we had a brief hiatus and I returned to New York City for a few weeks. I did a few touristy things I had always wanted to do. On September 7^th, I ventured to the World Trade Center and had a look around. I had never been to that neighborhood before. There wasn't anything particularly remarkable about that afternoon. I remember that it was a long, beautiful walk along the Battery. I do remember looking out over the water and feeling lucky to be there. I looked forward to coming back to New York when the tour was over.

I left for Chicago on September 9^th. Mark and I were getting into top physical shape, and were glad to be reunited to finish our training in Chicago. And then September 11^th happened. My brother left me a message that morning, panicked that I was in New York. I figured he heard about some kind of crime in the city on the news. I dismissed his concern as nothing more than his overprotective nature and sense of exaggeration. I tried to call him back and his cell number was busy. Odd. I tried to call my mom. Busy. Was the entire AT&T network down?

I walked to work that morning, winding my way through the theatre district in Chicago. A beautiful day. I had never been to Chicago before and was entranced by it. This was going to be a great run for us. I stopped in at the Corner Bakery to get a coffee and a danish. Could life be any better? Then I got to work.

My boss was frantically searching on the internet, listening to NPR. The office phone was ringing off the hook.

"What's going on?" I asked.

"Two planes flew into the World Trade Center."

"By accident?" I asked.

"I don't think so," he replied.

And then everything was different.

My beautiful city, the very area I had been only days before, was in chaos. We worked all day, talking with our producers, easing the fears of our company members, and trying to calm our own fears. Finally, they closed the Loop in Chicago, and we were forced to leave the theatre.

I went to visit my friends and finally saw so many of the pictures that people had been watching all day. It was even more devastating than I had imagined. I went to bed that night thinking that our nation would never be the same, that all these years I had taken our safety for granted. I was right on both counts.

Within a month, our show announced its closing and we lost our jobs. The bottom fell out of the theatre industry. But before closing down, Mark and I ran the marathon. On Saturday, October 14^th, we arrived at the starting line at 6am. We dropped off our valuables at check-in and got our numbers. We had trained hard in the final weeks – running was the only time of day I felt useful. Still, I was worried that we weren’t ready. Maybe we wouldn’t be able to finish. Maybe there was just no point to anything anymore.

We lined up, the gun went off, and slowly we wound our way through the neighborhoods of Chicago. The morning was sunny, the temperature perfect. A few miles in, I found that for the first time in a month, I noticed the sunshine, and felt warm. Mark and I stopped at every water and food station to keep our energy up.

What struck me the most about that race was the generosity of the crowd lining the entire route. I hadn’t expected that. They had orange slices and popcorn, cowbells and signs to cheer us on. That crowd made me believe in the goodness of the world, in our ability to reaffirm life. 

17 miles in, my knees began to ache terribly. “Come on, Love. We can do this,” Mark said. With that vote of confidence, he gave me a Tylenol. My knee pain was gone in minutes since my blood had been pumping strong for over two hours. Mentally, I was still feeling rattled. And then Mark did something that will make me love him forever. Mark asked me, “How did you start running?”

No one had ever asked me that before. Truth was, I started running to run away from my life. My dad was sick for most of my childhood and during my teen years, the situation in my home grew dire. I suffered from insomnia, and found that long-distance running would tire me out enough to sleep peacefully for a few hours. When I was racing, I knew my family was proud of me. I also thought if I could get good enough, I might be able to go to college on a partial scholarship. There was no money in my family to send me to college.

In my junior year of high school, I sustained a terrible injury that knocked me out for the season. I was devastated. I felt broken. I had a hard time walking for a number of months and began to run on my injured foot too soon, re-injuring it. A few months later, my father passed away after a long illness. While there was more peace in the house after his passing, it was an uncomfortable silence. That spring, I ran to forget, to hide. I didn’t care if I won any event. I just wanted to exhaust myself.

After that injury, I had the goal of someday running a marathon to pay tribute to my family for having lived through a difficult time. So this was it. This marathon was for my family. And if I could make it 26.2 miles, I’d believe that finally my body and my spirit were no longer broken.

Mark was quiet the whole time. I thought he might be bored with my droning. Turns out he was just a very good listener. “I’m sure that today your dad’s proud of you,” Mark said. And I believed him.

At the 26-mile mark, the finish line was in sight. There were banners flying high, and masses of people cheering. I felt like I was flying. At that point, Mark and I had to split because they timed men and women separately. We’d reunite at the end of the race. I smiled so wide crossing that finish line that I thought my face might crack. I lost all sense of exhaustion and burden. Mark and I made it – 26.2 miles in less than four and a half hours, step by step, together.

That day, I learned more about the world than any other day before or since. I developed a special fondness for Chicago – I felt that the crowd who came out that day breathed new life into me at a time when I felt very hollow and alone. That crowd helped me to refocus on the generosity and commitment of people to a community. Despite a dark set of circumstances facing all of us, we could rediscover happiness and enlightenment and move forward. I learned that true friendship carries us in the most trying times. I’m forever indebted to Mark for his positive attitude and belief in me. Almost 10 years after my dad’s passing, I lived up to the promise to honor my family. I raced toward sunshine, and found it. And I have been alight ever since. "

The photo above can be found at: http://riseupomenofgod.files.wordpress.com/2007/05/running-man.jpg

Cubby Bernstein is waiting for Tony

I can't believe it - I am actually going to have to watch the Tony Awards this year. My friend, Trevin, who has every Tony show since the dawn of time on video in pristine condition, will be thrilled that I am finally joining him in watching the broadcast. Now the show is guaranteed at least two television viewers.

Despite the fact that I love theatre and used to make my living in company management for Broadway shows and national tours, I have never liked the Tony Awards. I blame that on the fact that there is rarely a surprise award and that the critics seem to run everything. It has none of the elegance found at the Oscars and none of the fun found at shows like the CMAs. And despite the fact that the industry is built around live entertainment, the staging is awful for a televised audience, through no fault of the Broadway companies that put so much effort into the performances. 

However, I am so enjoying the Cubby Bernstein webisodes at http://www.cubbybernstein.com that I am routing for Xanadu to deliver on its promise of "Yes it can". And therefore, I need to watch to see what happens, and because I want to see what the Xanadu producers have in store for Tony night. 

There's something decidedly unique and inspiring about a little show that the public and critics laughed at when first announced, and has now been open a year, coming from behind and taking the top prize. Instead of the usual Broadway materials, actors, and producers who win over and over again, more for their reputations built on achievement from shows gone by rather than their current work, it's refreshing to see a whole new crew take on an industry that is in desperate need of reinvention.  

Just announced, Patti LuPone and Cynthia Nixon will give Cubby a hand on the latest YouTube webisodes to promote the show. See the full announcement at: http://www.playbill.com/news/article/118490.html. (Thanks to my friend Dan for sending this link to me.) Nathan Lane also recently made an appearance. My only regret is I didn't get to purchase a Cub-cake to support the company, and I missed my chance to meet Cubby at the promo event. Even if the show doesn't win the Tony, the producers have breathed life into the stale Broadway marketing business. And in that cause, Xanadu moved from “Yes it can” to “Yes it has”. Congratulations Cubby, you did it!

Cubby Bernstein

You've got to hand it to those wacky producers over at Xanadu. They're young and fearless, and finally they are starting to crack the crusty old wheels of Broadway and the marketing of Broadway shows. My friend, Dan, pointed me to Cubby Bernstein, a fictional character who makes his bones by getting people Tony Awards. Cubby's about 10 years old though he behaves like a grown theatre promoter with an attitude problem. (Sorry - was that redundant?) While antics like his are often deplored in adults, when Cubby behaves this way, it makes for good comedy in that very Doris Roberts sort of way.

What I love about Cubby is how completely unconventional and creative the entire campaign is, and how little money it cost to produce. I follow him on Twitter, and you can friend him on Facebook. On Broadway, the use of social media is practically unheard of so to step out like this is a big change for the industry. From the creation of Cubby's character to the episodic nature of his YouTube segments, he is a little man with a plan in a class by himself. And maybe that goes for the brave producers of Xanadu as well. They may prove that being a little bit wacky can get you everywhere.

I haven't seen the show, and I haven't heard glowing reviews either, but this campaign has so piqued my interest from a business perspective, that I may just walk myself down to the Helen Hayes. After all, if I'm interested in having the theatre industry do more innovative work , I need to support new thinking. And maybe I'll get a chance to meet Cubby.

The Roundabout Theatre Company Connects the Dots: Sunday in the Park with George

The Roundabout Theatre Company was my first professional theatre job. I stayed for about a year, fresh out of undergrad. I have continued to follow their climb, and smile at their continued success. Todd Haimes is without a doubt a brilliant and masterful artistic director.

Though they don't blog, they have begun to venture into the world of social media with videocasts and YouTube pieces. Their production of Sunday in the Park with George is currently playing at Studio 54. The show's book was written by James Lapine, with music and lyrics by Stephen Sondheim. The musical was inspired by the painting "A Sunday Afternoon on the Island of La Grande Jatte" by Georges Seurat.

Composed of many tiny "pixels", the Roundabout has invited anyone and everyone to contribute their own photograph to be one of the many tiny images that will make up a re-creation of the painting's dots, a la Chuck Close. I love this because it asks people to contribute something specific and personal. As a community, we build something together and the Roundabout will send updates periodically to let us know how the progress is going. You can also leave messages for people who have contributed their photos.

In social media, there's a place for everyone to play, an opportunity for all of us to contribute to the conversation. It's all about telling your story in your own voice, in a way that makes sense for you organization. To contribute your photo to the Roundabout's project, visit http://www.sundaydots.com/

It's all in the edit

In recent days I've been building a presentation by committee. And it's forced me to consider how to collect ideas from a wide audience, put them through a filter, a funnel, and then develop a unique, singular voice. If only I could draw, it would make a great visual: All the voice of the world at the top, been strained into a funnel with a neat, well-crafted set of ideas at the bottom.

I'm struggling with how to make the process less painful for all involved. It's a struggle to edit. As a retail company, we are forced, constantly, into editing because the size of the box is finite. It's true for newspapers, magazine, broadcasts, and museums. In some sense even for Google and Amazon.com - how much surfing is one person really willing to do on any one topic or product category - after a few pages of results, I'm done!

When I first moved to NYC, almost a decade ago, I worked for the Roundabout Theatre Company. Todd Haimes was then, and remains, the Artistic Director. And he's brilliant. The best there is. In an interview, he was asked why he never directed shows. He answered, "I have no interest in directing shows. My passion lies in bringing talent together to get the work done." He is a curator, an editor, of talent. He gathers, sifts, and funnels a multitude of great theatrical pieces and builds a season of shows each year that make a cohesive, powerful statement.

I thought about Todd as I worked on this presentation with a multitude of people voicing their opinions about what's important. Deciding what matters and what doesn't matter really is the hardest work on Earth, and the most important - through editing we define who we are, and what matters.

The photo above can be found at: http://www.blackwell-compass.com/render_image/fragments_home_editor_letter_image

A meeting of the minds: art and technology

I have been out of professional theatre management for quite some time now. I love going to shows, love reading about the industry. Every once in a while I get a twinge to go back to it, and then about 5 seconds later I have a moonstruck “snap out of it” moment. We idealize the past.

While I am not sure if I will ever return to the industry, I am passionate about propagating the arts. I read Michael Eisner’s book A Work in Progress about 6 months before I moved to New York City to begin my career in theatre. It is not an exaggeration to say that he very much influenced my decision to give it a shot and see what I could do in the industry. He has a quote in the front cover that to this day is one of my favorites, and it bears repeating. "What hope there is for us lies in our nascent arts, for if we are to be remembered as more than a mass of people who lived and fought wars and died, it is for our arts that we will be remembered. The fortunes wither, the kings depart. What survives are the creations of people who are makers and artificers of the spirit.”

I am now an outsider of the industry with some wonderful friends still very much inside. Over the past few months I have begun to wonder how on Earth the industry expects to survive without embracing technology beyond complicating lighting plots and set designs. With all of the competing interests for time that consumers now face and a shaky economy, the arts cannot expect to rely on local audiences and tourists to make up the whole of their subscriber base. The traditional subscriber model needs to be ripped to shreds and rebuilt. Why should Lincoln Center limit their viewers to only those who can get to NYC? Why not develop a subscriber base that spans the globe?

I’m talking about a technological platform that would film performances and museum exhibits in very high definition to be broadcast via subscription on the web to those who pay per log-in. I am already hearing the naysayers – “theatre is about being there”, “what about the live interaction that the actors need?”, “no technology can replace actually being there in person”. I agree with all of that. And the die-hard subscribers will, too. They will still come to performances and exhibits.

Let’s consider those who can’t get to the theatre or museum: why should art institutions leave that money on the table? Why shouldn’t all people everywhere be able to experience and appreciate art wherever it is? If we don’t do this, can we hope to hang on to young audiences who are so intrinsically linked to technology? And don’t our artists deserve to have the ability to reach audiences far and wide?

The other bonus that this kind of technology would offer is the ability for those who see the performances to interact with one another, to keep the artistic discussion going long after the curtain goes down. Not to mention the diversification of revenue – new subscribers and the increased ad money that could be made available to arts organizations to not only survive but to thrive.

I have a certain disdain for critics – how they kill works of art before the performers even get their arms around a piece. Why should the critics decide what shows stays open on Broadway and what closes? Why does this very select group of people get to determine the art we see and enjoy? Opening up the subscriber base and encouraging the conversation among patrons returns the power to the people it rightfully belongs to – the patrons.

The above images can be found at http://infocusmagazine.org/3.2/images/eng_beyond.gif

Career transitioning by guest blogger, Rob Lorey

In an effort to expand the depth of the topics I cover and to provide readers with new perspectives, I have decided to ask a few of my most interesting friends who inspire and enlighten me to appear as guest bloggers. The first one is my friend, Rob Lorey. I met Rob while we were on the Beauty and the Beast tour. He is an exceedingly talented performer and generous man who has now turned his talent toward a new career that is taking him in an entirely new direction. My love and thanks to Rob for sharing his story on this blog.

"I have been asked by my friend, Christa, to discuss career transitioning-which is interesting considering her own history. I have looked to her as a model when questioning my motives or planning. She has always seemed to me a person of keen intelligence and interests, who will throw herself into a given course with 110 percent dedication, yet readily change course with complete determination and little concern for popular perception. There. That's my entry for the Christa Fan Club.

My own journey has been a bit lengthier- but very fruitful. I spent roughly twenty years in the entertainment industry- mostly stage work. This career took me all over. I've lived in several great cities, toured throughout the US and Canada, and spent time in Europe and Asia. By all accounts, I've been very lucky and reasonably successful.

But I find that a career in the Arts intensifies the perception that one has never quite "arrived". No matter what successes you attain, you're always looking to someone who has what you perceive as the better gig. It is very difficult to maintain a realistic sense of progress- and easy to become career obsessed. Add to that the very real dearth of work opportunities and the increasing talent pool you are competing with. It can be a bleak picture!

My own journey has allowed me the luxury of time for reflection. My last big tour gave me the opportunity to take stock and make some decisions about how I might want the rest of this ride to go. I will spare readers the nuts and bolts of this existential journey. Suffice it to say I decided that I needed to expand my capacity for work opportunities and life experiences. That's what this move feels like- an extension of all that has come before it.

Currently, I'm pursuing a masters in Social Welfare- which is whooping my ass (back to a full time program after 25 years....ouch!) But it is incredibly interesting and engaging. I continue to perform- though not to the extent I was. It's a necessary sacrifice for the big picture. I am not sure how I will choose to use all this once I have completed my degree. I know that whatever I do, I'll be utilizing all aspects of myself, and all the work and life experience I have accumulated.

What a gift to be so energized and......expectant at this juncture! Goes to show you: every day is an opportunity to reinvent, to do better, to experience more!"

The above photo can be found at http://www.makinglemonade.com/Career%20Transition.jpg

The Apple Sisters

A few weeks agao, I wrote about meeting Bob McClure as he was selling his homemade pickles (http://www.mcclurespickles.com/) at a charity event I attended. Last night, Bob invited me to see a variety show he was in at the People's Improv Theatre (PIT) on West 29th Street. Bob was a part of The Apple Sisters variety show. And for those of you who missed the show, I would suggest logging in to their myspace page, www.myspace.com/theapplesisters so you are sure to catch their next act. I was laughing for a full hour at the comedy act these women put together.

I spent about 5 years working if profesisonal theatre management for Broadway shows and national tours. I left the business largely because I felt uninspired, though I have continued to attend shows whenever I can. The Apple Sisters is one of the best acts I have seen in a very long time. To be sure the show is not without its glitches, though the energy and spontaneity these gals have makes the glitches part of the fun. You won't find polished choreography or perfect pitch in the songs - you'll find something much better. Humor, warmth, and a very talented trio of writers. Their creativity will make you wonder why we haven't yet heard more about these women - I have no doubt that large-scale success is on the way.

Also, if there's an inspiring improv comic inside of you just waiting to get in on the act, The PIT offers classes, workshops, and tons of events. Most of the shows cost $5 - $8 per ticket - so much laugh for the buck that you can't afford to pass it by. http://www.thepit-nyc.com/