Without a Burr (or Brogue)

fringe guide ad 2013The Edinburgh Festival Fringe guide arrived in my mailbox today. It has 332 pages of listings of nearly 3,000 shows, with a venue guide and index close to 50 pages. It’s bigger than the old phone books of many towns. And it’s all entertainment. My listing is on page 255, which is the second page of the theatre section. My 1/8 page ad (pictured here) is on p. 338, next to the listings for Wing It, Dusty and The Winter’s Tale.

I will be pouring over these pages to see which shows to see. I need to figure out which queues to flyer (in America you say “which lines to busque”). Then, I’ll see which shows my be potential friends or allies. It’s usually not the ones I expect. People/shows represent differently in the literature than they do in life. Some are pleasant surprises. Others are not.

It is both surreal and cool. It’s also exciting and terrifying. Just skimming the pages, there’s a certain exuberance I can’t quite quantify on the pages. There’s a sensibility there that is both fun and at a high level. There’s energy under the listings and the advertisements. Seeing this together, I feel like a small fish jumping into a big pond in spite of putting up work in NYC for the last 10 years.

There’s a lot of stuff to prep for this beyond simply rehearsing the piece. My to-do list is really long. Longer than it has been for any previous show I’ve created. Sometimes the producing can be a great distraction from creating the work. It’s a good way to keep yourself occupied. Or a way to short-change the most important part. But then I think, “but if no one comes to see it, what’s the point?” I think that’s where a lot of people make shows about outrageous things in order to get attention. And a lot of good artists become bitter because working on the piece itself is never enough.

It’s my first time performing at this festival. It’s a big investment in time, money, energy, and fortitude. They say it takes three trips there to make an impact with both the audiences and the global presenters in attendance. The feeling I have right now is like being thrown in the deep end of the pool and my instinct is to start flailing my arms around when it’s far better to stay still, let myself drift to the bottom and float back up. Then I can learn to swim. But my inner child wants to do triple back flips off the high dive.

I stand by my show. It did well in it’s earlier incarnation Two Lovely Black Eyes. I have to remind myself of that until the pieces come together and I get in front of an audience again.

It plays July 25 at 9 p.m. and July 26 and 27 at 7 p.m. at 59 E 59 in NYC. Please come see it if you’re in town.

It play Aug. 2 to 24 (no show Aug. 11 or 18) at the Gryphon 2 in Edinburgh. Please see it twice if you’re there.

If you can’t do either and want to support this effort, please consider donating to our Indiegogo campaign. I deeply, deeply appreciate it.

I’ll keep you posted on how things develop.

Learning lines

I like leaning lines. I don’t bowl or throw darts or fish so it’s how I relax. But not if I’m rushed.

I like lines that are tricky. Ones that require repetition.

I like running lines with other people. It gives you a sense of how they think, what they fear, and how far out they are willing to go. It’s a good way to bond.

 

OK. Enough goofing off. I’ve got an hour of blah blah blah to learn.

How the Grinch Stole Chris Harcum

I hate Christmas. For most of my life I have lived in denial of this because saying that makes one out to be a bad person. But I do. I hate Christmas and think it should not be celebrated.

A friend posted on Facebook today how she was trying to get in the holiday spirit by listening to holiday music on Pandora and how it wasn’t working. I wanted to reply that’s because the greater majority of that garbage music is either schlocky or terrible. And I’m sick of it. In the same way I can’t listen to “Stairway to Heaven” by Led Zeppelin ever again. I’ve had enough. The way I can’t listen to Elvis now. It’s been done to death. New songs only make it worse and remakes fill me with rage. Hearing them only compels me to build a Festivus pole and prepare to air my grievances and show my strength on Dec. 23.

Hearing “Silent Night” with lit candles does always seem to put a spell over me. I do like seeing snowflakes in windows and crystal lights strewn in trees. I like seeing people run around without having to go to work. I like that big waste of a Christmas tree in Rockefeller Center and the little shops in Bryant Park. I like the yule log on TV, almost to the point of giving in on the music. Almost. And I like getting a nice gift and seeing someone melt upon receiving it.

Don’t mistake my feelings about Christmas as a lack of generosity or compassion. I do my best to carry those things the rest of the year.

In addition to hating the holiday music, I hate “A Christmas Carol” and “The Nutcracker.” Seen them both more times than I can count. Been in CC twice as the boy who gets the turkey for Scrooge when I was 12 and as Bob Cratchit shortly after arriving in NYC. I’ve danced in “Nutcracker” 5 times. I’m done. Done. Done. Done. I do like what Mark Morris did with “The Hard Nut.” Saw that at BAM a few years ago. I’m burnt out on “A Christmas Story” and “It’s a Wonderful Life.” For years, my favorite holiday movie was the first “Lethal Weapon” flick. But Mel Gibson ruined that by being Mel Gibson.

I HATE SANTA CLAUS. What a messed up concept this is. When I was 6, I showed my loyalty to my classmate by sticking my tongue out at his sister who was in the third grade. My teacher pulled my out of the line to the lavatory and put me in front of the class for a group interrogation.

“What do you think will happen to Chris, class?”

I was in a full-body convulsion and tears streamed down my face.

“Um, he won’t get the good behavior bear on his desk?”

“That’s true. What else?” BIG, HEAVY PAUSE. None of the kids knew the answer she wanted. “Santa won’t come to visit him.”

I thought I’d die. But he did visit, even though the teacher made a point of calling my mother to tell her my capital offense. (Not to be confused with this nonsense.)

Two years later, Santa left gifts under the tree several days before Christmas. I knew his handwriting. This bothered me. I thought about it through the night. Walking home from school the next day, I realized he did not exist. No one told me this. I figured this out. And it angered me because the idea of Santa is used as a way to control behavior and adults are running around telling lies to their “stupid” children. I was not allowed to ruin the illusion for my 3-year-old brother at the time. But that’s when I think I was done with it. I just haven’t really let myself say it until now.

Because of this, I hate the forced cheer and the travel and the stress and the rituals. I hate the awkwardness and barely suppressed rage that comes with putting parts of a family together that otherwise never would be. Or should be. I hate seeing people buy things for other people they don’t want, need or even like. I hate fake holiday flavors and foods you should not be forced to eat. I hate the alcohol consumption that’s needed to survive this. I hate seeing sad people in bars at this time. I hate how much the suicide rate goes up. I hate people buying things they can’t afford. I hate that Wal-Mart has ruined Thanksgiving for this crap and that AC/DC lets that awful company use their music. I hate that this is built on child slavery and low-wage labor. The traffic, the lines, the post office, the way Amazon is a kudzu eating at our souls. Hate all of it.

I’m also not a fan of the other version of Christmas. Either one is a telescope pointed at our inadequacies and insecurities. I’ll soon hear stories from friends of how they survived the holidays.

“What’s the point of putting yourself through that?”

“Well, I have to because…” The rest of the statement is some version of how it’s easier to suffer than deal with the manipulative shit from someone in the family. Usually followed with a list of what will be regifted.

“I don’t hate Christmas,” they tell me. “I just wish…” This is followed with some variation of wishing they could have stayed on the couch in pajamas and drink hard liquor. These are not low-lifes, mind you, these are respectable friends of mine.

The arguments I hear for Christmas do not convince me.

“It’s for the kids.” No it’s not. It’s for control and/or compensation for the rest of the year. And, admit it, they drive you up the wall with their greed and moodiness.

“It makes me feel like a kid again.” So does target practice for some. I wish the toys and the guns could be put away. Rare is the healthy family, devoid of problems.

But we get this holiday to forget about domestic abuse, violence, bullying, competition, anger, pedophilia, and other familial and societal ills pushed below the surface.

Fortunately, New Year’s is just around the corner to start all over again. I wish everyone good luck on surviving this Christmas.

My Scottish Recce

Got back Saturday and I’m still adjusting. Passed out on the couch watching Colbert last night. Woke up 90 minutes later. Stayed up another 90 or so.

Aimee and I went this past week to see the Edinburgh Festival Fringe. To see what it’s all about. Not to take a show this year. The wisdom we have received is that you need to do this first to save a lot of headaches. I have to say I agree. Even though I’ve been in a number of festivals, this is entirely different. No offense to any festivals, but it’s like comparing the Track & Field Day I had at Oak View Elementary to the summer Olympics.

There are around 2800 productions going on at once. The Royal Mile is a busking and flyering paradise. Or an agoraphobic’s nightmare. Posters everywhere. We played a game called Church, Pub or Venue? We added Hostel to the choices after a couple of days. Our hotel had a pub that was a venue. The street in front of the lobby–Grassmarket–was another busking and outdoor performance zone.

The sad souls giving out postcards for shows everywhere you go. “Free comedy show tonight at half-eleven.” “2-for-1 tonight.” The one that struck me most deeply: “The show called ‘a complete waste of time’ in today’s review.” With 20 days to go in the festival, that person had a tough climb ahead. The six or so panhandlers I saw during our entire stay sat quietly on the ground with a cup or hat and meditatively stared below ankle level.

The food is terrible. Bacon is good. Beer was bad. Went back to Guinness. Haggis balls disappointing to me. Starbucks serves Sausage Butties. I avoided. Had to go there for the wifi that was not working at the hotel. Most coffee is served as Americanos elsewhere.

The shows were mostly excellent that we picked. I’d say over 12 hours were put into choosing what we’d see from the various guides. A venue organization can have venues in several locations and multiple spaces. A couple times we zipped Amazing Race-style from the wrong one to the right-er one to the actual one. There are many guides. The main guide. The Big 4 guide. Each venues guide. The PBH Festival Guide. The Laughing Horse Free Festival guide. Zoo Venues, Gryphon Venues, C Venues and The Spaces. Oh, and the Edinburgh International Festival. Yeah, that’s the thing that started in 1947. About 12 companies weren’t let into that and so they started a Festival Fringe. There’s also a small jazz festival at a venue and a Foodies Festival.

We did not get to see any of our friends’ shows. We saw 30 shows in 7 days trying to see a variety of spaces and types of work. I feel guilt about not supporting friends there but it would be a tiny drop in an infinite bucket. Picking out what to see was hard and we really needed another week to see most of what we wanted and to support friends. We get out to see a lot of stuff in NYC so we put the focus on what we didn’t know.

This trip cost close to twice what our last festival production cost but it was a great investment. Now we have to figure out our plan for next year and the years to follow. I’m a little sad to be back home but relieved to be able to unplug. I was really overwhelmed by the fourth day.

What’s a Stampede Lab?

Elephant Run District has wanted to create an evening of developing works. I wanted to cross-pollinate groups working today and also get people from Off Off Broadway’s past in the same room. After the Living Theatre recently won the fight to keep in its space, we thought TLT would be the perfect location for this event. Often, we work alone and only know if what we’re doing is on the right track after the first weekend of a fully-mounted production. Or, there’s an endless amount of readings of plays.

We hope Stampede Lab will be a different path and pull people in our far-flung territory together. Each presentation is 15 minutes, followed by a quick Q&A/Trivia Contest hosted by me. Then we’re going to do something to honor the spirit of the Living Theatre.

Our first lab will include a tribute to Steve Ben Israel, a former member of the Living Theatre.

We’re going to do an overlapping reading of 3 of his poems, with a video of one of his signature pieces performed by Steve Ben.

Admission to Stampede Lab is free. Donations will be accepted at the end of the night for the Steve Ben Israel memorial. If you can’t attend, please give at www.indiegogo.com/stevebenisrael.

On Tuesday, June 19, 8 to 10 p.m.

Elephant Run District presents

Stampede Lab

a curated evening of indie theater works,
at The Living Theatre, 21 Clinton Street.
Where artists from Off Off’s heritage mix
with the people making it happen today.

3 downtown theater companies will each present up to 15 minutes of soon-to-be produced pieces. Smart, daring, funny, challenging, raw and focused. In between there will be short interviews, conversations and trivia. No lame talk-backs, no excruciating soap boxes and no rambling work.

Featured artists on June 19 will include: Ashlin Halfnight, Homunculus Mask Theater Company and Original Binding.

Keep Momma Malina in her Home

Aimee and I saw a couple Living Theatre-related events this week. First we went to an evening celebrating the release of Judith Malina’s book The Piscator Notebook. It is always amazing to hear her talk. This event had a little something extra because it took place in the same room where she learned from Erwin Piscator.

We went last night to see the new print of The Connection at the IFC Center. It was astounding to see this. I’d never seen it previously and found myself time and again imagining the ripples this play must have made when it was first performed.

The Living Theatre has made contributions to the theatre that continue to impact the work done today. And, in fact, the Living Theatre and Judith Malina, now aged 85, continue to create theatre. As Brad Burgess, the Living Theatre’s executive producer, has said, she is the mother of Off Broadway.

For those who don’t know about the struggle the Living Theatre has had please read this article from the Village Voice. She is a member of the Theatre Hall of Fame. In some ways, she has outlived her legend but continues to do her work. Members of the theater community should support her. One day, one of us might be so lucky to live so long and to keep pursuing our passions.

They only have one more day in their fund drive. Please give generously at the link below and spread the word.

http://www.luckyant.com/livingtheatre