Reconsidering revolution

New Yorkers did an interesting thing on Tuesday. Democrats gave a so-called "establishment" candidate a win and Republicans gave a so-called "anti-establishment" candidate a win. I don't usually associate contemporary Republicans with revolution, but that's kind of what's playing out across the country. Populists across party lines are rising up and throwing support behind Donald Trump and Bernie Sanders because they believe some sort of revolution needs to happen. Sanders uses that term outright to describe what he thinks America needs, and while Trump doesn't use "revolution" per se, it's actually what he's proposing.

At least I don't think he uses that word. I try to ignore what he says because his proposals make me shudder.

There's a big difference between talking about revolution and actually participating in and achieving one. I think that's the hard part. Revolution sounds glamorous to a lot of people, but most of us haven't actually experienced one firsthand. When I hear Bernie Sanders calling for revolution and see a lot of privileged, Liberal people raising their fists and screaming "Yeah!", I get uncomfortable. And skeptical about the follow through. Promises to break up big banks and of free college for everyone sound great, but are we hearing enough about the realities of those things? I'm not so sure.

Yes, I believe wholeheartedly that injustices need to be righted and that balance needs to be restored. However, I think that systemic, lasting change takes much longer than the amount of time it takes to make a promise from behind a podium. And it also takes more than one person to make that change happen. President Obama's two terms in office should have clarified that for us by now. People are starting to point to congressional elections at the state and federal levels as places where real change could begin to happen. That's where the revolution, if we really want it, could take hold.

But that's the real question for me. Are people really sure that they want what they're asking for?  Are we really ready to make these collective sacrifices for the greater good? I'm not so sure about that either. We're a pretty self-centered society, and we do a lot of talking out of both sides of our collective mouth.

When I was a kid, there were these television commercials for Toyota automobiles. The jingle was, "You asked for it? You got it! Toyota!" And then the people in the commercials did a victory jump with their hands in the air next to a Toyota car or truck. I can't help but think that it would be beneficial for some of our more revolutionary-minded friends to think about the actual benefits and deficits of a real revolution. Maybe it would be useful to listen to the stories of people who came to this country to escape the aftermath of a revolution. These first-person accounts might help to clarify what a call for revolution actually means. Political rallying and posturing make revolution sound like a great idea. First person accounts make revolution real.

Once again in this election cycle, I think we should be listening more carefully, rather than raising our fists and yelling, "Yeah!"

At Capacity--Scene 18: After death arguing

(Lights up on Julia’s hospital room. Steve and Claire are standing over Julia’s bed. Julia is tossing and turning.)

STEVE
Hello?  Julia?  Julia!  Can you hear me? (to Claire) What did she say?

CLAIRE
I don’t know, I couldn’t make it out. (to Julia) Julia?  Julia.  It’s Claire. Are you ok?

(Julia mumbles something unintelligible.)

CLAIRE
What? Julia, what did you say?

(Julia swats at Claire as she’s flailing around.)

CLAIRE
I think I’m gonna sit down. I don’t need a black eye out of this. (Sitting down)

STEVE
Julia? C’mon Julia, what are you trying to tell us?

JULIA (mumbling again)
Muh..muh…muuuuuhhhhh!

STEVE (over Julia’s mumbling)
Mud? Mustard? Mother?

JULIA (louder)
MUH…MUH…MUUUUUHHHHHHH!  MUH, MUH, MUH!

STEVE
I think she’s trying to say “mother.”

CLAIRE
Maybe she is, but what’s the difference?  We can’t get her to wake up and see us, so it just doesn’t matter.

STEVE
JULIA, ARE YOU SAYING “MOTHER”?

JULIA
YUH, YUH, YUH!

STEVE
I think that’s a yes.

CLAIRE
Great. The one person she’s asking for isn’t available.

STEVE
But at least she’s making progress.  We’re communicating with her now.

CLAIRE
Steve, it’s been a week of this, and we’ve got “Muh” for mother. That’s it.

STEVE
But at least—

CLAIRE
She’s not coming out of this like they said she would. I’m not sure what else we can do.

STEVE
Are you giving up on her?

CLAIRE
No, I’m not giving up on her. But I don’t know much longer we’re going to be able to sit here waiting for her to come out of it. This trance or whatever it is.

STEVE
The doctor said that she’s getting closer and closer to reality. She’s responding to light and touch and—

CLAIRE
I get it. She’s getting better.  I just wish that she’d go a little quicker.  We’re losing time on the packing and the closing on the house because we’re here all the time waiting for her to wake up.

STEVE
Claire, what is with you?  This is our sister.

CLAIRE
Yes, and? So what does that mean?  Julia is our sister and she’s hit this snag. But we all have lives that we need to get on with, including her. This little trance thing that she’s got going on is not helping us to get on with our lives.  Is it?

STEVE
You are so callous about everything.  How do you do that?

CLAIRE
You’re being really dramatic, Steve. If I were callous, I wouldn’t be sitting here waiting for her to wake up and get on with her life.  Callous would be ignoring it altogether and getting back to the business of the house.  But here I am, waiting for Julia to come to her senses.

STEVE
Hold on.  Three days ago, you were the one telling me how delicate this was and that Julia needed more careful consideration because of what Mom and Dad did to her, how they didn’t help her. Now you’re saying this?

CLAIRE
Saying what?  What did I just say that’s so different?

STEVE
You kinda just made it sound like Julia should just get over it.

(Julia stirs at this statement. Mumbling again.)

CLAIRE
Yeah, maybe she should. I think this is getting ridiculous. We know what happened, she knows what happened because it happened to her, and she needs some really good therapy.  Lets get it started and get on with it.

STEVE (raising his voice)
Why are you so cold about all of this?  Anything that involves any kind of emotional investment of more than a day or two you just can’t handle.

CLAIRE
Don’t yell at me, Steve.

STEVE (ignoring her, continued raised voice)
You just completely shut off any emotional commitment.  How are you even married?

CLAIRE
Great question, but not appropriate for right now.  Lower your voice!

STEVE
You did the same thing after Mom and Dad died. You had a complete meltdown with me on the phone when you called to me what happened, and then you turned into Sunny Sally through the rest of it.  Flirting with the police officer a the morgue. Finding some way to completely disassociate when we viewed their remains. Chirping away about flowers and casket colors when we met with the funeral home.  You just turned the whole thing into some fashion show.

CLAIRE
Somebody had to manage all of that!  You and Julia were worthless!  You cried through everything and she just stared off into space with a scowl on her face.  What did you think it was all going to happen by itself?

STEVE
That’s not the point!  You didn’t even seem upset after that first day they were gone! 

CLAIRE
You know what?  I wasn’t upset!  I was relieved!  I was relieved that they were gone! 

STEVE
You’re happy that Mom and Dad are dead?  Is that really what you just said?

CLAIRE
NO, STEVE, THAT IS NOT WHAT I JUST SAID!

STEVE
YOU JUST SAID—

CLAIRE
I SAID I WAS RELIEVED.  THERE’S A DIFFERENCE, OK?  A BIG DIFFERENCE.

(Through this last exchange, Julia has become more agitated, but Steve and Claire don’t notice.)

CLAIRE
DO YOU KNOW WHY I WAS RELIEVED? I was relieved because I’m tired of pretending that Mom and Dad did such a good job. Look at her! She is incapacitated right now because Mom and Dad didn’t do their job.

STEVE
Mom and Dad did their job, Claire! They made a mistake!

CLAIRE
They ignored what Uncle Steve did!

STEVE
They didn’t know!

CLAIRE
They knew, they ignored it, and didn’t do anything! And because she suffered we all suffered.

STEVE
I don’t think we suffered. You’re just making stuff up now because you’re feeling sorry for yourself and you’re trying to justify you’re crazy awful feeling about Mom and Dad.  

CLAIRE
I’m not hiding my feelings anymore, Steve. They’re gone and I can’t hurt them by telling the truth. Mom and Dad failed Julia. Don’t you get that? 

(Julia calms down at this point and she opens her eyes. She is coming out to. Finally.)

STEVE
You think you’re such a great parent. So perfect. We both know that your marriage is a mess, so how are you so sure that you know everything that goes on in your house?

CLAIRE
I know what goes on with my kid and my husband in my house and it’s none of your damned business!

JULIA (barely audible)
Claire?

STEVE
And your drinking makes it all really clear I’m sure!

CLAIRE
Shut up, Steve.

STEVE
Why?

JULIA (barely audible)
Steve?

CLAIRE
Because you’re starting to say things you’ll regret later.

STEVE
You started doing that already, so don’t worry about what I’m saying.

JULIA (louder this time)
Claire?

(Claire turns to see Julia. She goes to the bed.)

CLAIRE
What?  Julia?  What?

JULIA
Why are you yelling?

CLAIRE
Oh my God, she’s awake!

STEVE
Julia? Julia, it’s Steve!

CLAIRE
Don’t yell, for god’s sake. (To Julia) Are you ok, Honey?

JULIA
Where am I?

STEVE
You’re in the hospital.

JULIA (getting a little agitated, trying to sit up more)
What?  Why am I in the—

CLAIRE
Just rest, Honey.  Just lie back and rest. (To Steve) Go tell someone she’s awake.

(Steve exists the room to get a nurse.)

JULIA
Why were you guys yelling about Mom and Dad?

CLAIRE
It was nothing.  We were just having an argument.  You know how we are.

JULIA
You two never argue.

CLAIRE
Well we started today.  It’s a new thing in our old age.

(Julia smiles weakly.)

JULIA
My mouth is really dry.

CLAIRE (grabbing for some ice chips or water)
Here, how about some cold water?

(Claire holds the cup and straw up to her mouth and Julia takes a sip.)

CLAIRE
Better?

(Julia nods her head.  Claire puts the glass down. Steve comes back in the room.)

STEVE
They’re paging the doctor. She said to call as soon as Julia was awake. 

JULIA
Why am I in here?

CLAIRE
You had a little bit of a spell, Julia. We wanted to make sure everything was ok.

JULIA
How long have I been here?

STEVE
Like a week?

JULIA
Oh, gosh. Did you call Jim?

CLAIRE
Jim?

JULIA
My boss, Jim. He must be freaking out.

(Claire and Steve look at each other.)

CLAIRE
Honey, I thought your boss’ name was Heidi.

JULIA
Heidi?  No, it’s Jim Shaw. You know, he came to the house that time.

(Claire looks at Steve. Steve shrugs his shoulders.)

JULIA
Where’s Mom and Dad?

STEVE
Julia?

CLAIRE
Uh, Honey, Mom and Dad aren’t here.  They’re—

JULIA
Why not? Did they go on another trip again?  They just got back from Seattle.

CLAIRE
Uh, right, yeah, they are on another trip.

JULIA
They just left me? Like this?

CLAIRE
No, no.  Oh no, they wouldn’t do that. 

(Steve looks at Claire with a bit of apprehension. Claire looks confused, then realizes something.)

CLAIRE
Sweetie, the doctor told me to ask you a couple of questions when you woke up, just to see how you’re feeling. Is that ok?

(Julia nods her head.)

CLAIRE
OK.  So can you tell me who the president is?

JULIA
Bill Clinton.

STEVE
What?

CLAIRE
Shush, Steve.  And, Honey, how old are you?

JULIA
23.

CLAIRE
OK.  OK.  Yes.  OK, that’s all the doctor wanted me to ask.

JULIA
OK. You better make sure that someone calls Jim Shaw.  I don’t want to lose my job at the agency.

STEVE
I’ll call him, Julia. Don’t worry, OK?

JULIA
OK.  Thanks.  Can I just be quiet for awhile? I feel really tired.

CLAIRE
Sure, Sweetie.  Just lie back and rest, OK.  The doctor’s gonna be here any minute to talk with you, so rest up.

JULIA
OK.  And maybe we can call Mom and Dad later?

CLAIRE
OK. We can try.  We can try.

(Claire looks at Steve as the lights fade out.  End of scene.)

Artists I admire: Moises Kaufman

I can trace many important moments of discovery in my life back to theatrical productions that I experienced as an audience member. One of those moments was when I saw Gross Indecency: The Three Trials of Oscar Wilde by Moises Kaufman. I was in my third year of graduate school, and one of my professors suggested that a group of us go see the performance. We drove down to New York City from Amherst, Massachusetts, on a cold, rainy Sunday, and we saw the play at the Minetta Lane Theatre. I remember that it was one of those completely overwhelming moments for me as a watched actors switch seamlessly back and forth between characters, pick up books and read from them as if they were collecting research notes right in front of us, and capture sexuality and sensuality without using nudity or being salacious. The play was not about shocking its audience but rather about educating its audience about Oscar Wilde and world in which he lived and died.

Very soon after seeing that first time, I went back for a second time. I couldn't get enough of the experience, this theatricalization of research that somehow made me want to learn me and see more and make more. It was the perfect combination of history and artistry, and I felt like I was seeing possibilities that I didn't know existed in the theatre.

Fast forward to the present while reflecting on my past, and it's clear that Kaufman's play has affected many of the pieces I've created and hope to create in the future. I've embraced my love of history and have used primary and secondary source material to create new work. I continue to think about how gender and sexuality play out in daily interactions and in artistic explorations. The energy and eroticism of Gross Indecency is something that I won't ever forget, and I try to go towards it in my own work.

For inspiring me to use history to make research based art, for showing me the depth of Wilde's facility with language, and for giving me a goal to reach for each time I make a new play, Moises Kaufman is the artist I admire for this week.

Lessons learned or relearned

Last week I had some realizations or reminders that I thought I'd share here in the form of a list. At present, they're just floating around in my head, but maybe they'll seem more connected once I finish writing them out in one place. Here we go:

1. Don't try to shove a three-hour training session into a 90-minute class period. No time to really think about concepts introduced or to discuss idea, thoughts, and opinions that come up for the participants. For the record, I realized this as a participant, so I'm making a commitment to avoid making the same mistake as a facilitator in the future. I almost always over plan for a given time frame, and this experience verified that less is definitely more.

2. Culturally responsive pedagogy requires flexibility, sensitivity, and open mindedness. It also requires a willingness to throw out an idea that seemed great at first, but ultimately doesn't meet the goals of the teaching or the needs of the students.

3. I don't drink enough water. Members of my family gave me a hard time about it this weekend. So on Monday I started trying to drink more water. It's tough on my productivity, as I'm at my desk less, but I have to admit that after two days, I already feel like I have more energy. My coffee intake is down, and I'm sleeping better. So far. Could be a placebo effect, but I'm willing to continue the hydration experiment to see what happens.

4. I want to do a better job of providing students with examples of plays by and about people of color. I feel like I've been conscious of this for a number of years now, and I incorporate examples of these plays into my classes whenever I can. However, I think there's more that I can do. Many of my students go on to teach in public schools with racially and ethnically diverse populations, and they need more access to repertoire that reflects their student populations. I feel like this is partly their responsibility to do the research and read plays, but I've learned that they often have no idea where to begin. Either I need to write a new course that deals specifically with repertoire by and about people of color, or I need to find a way to integrate more examples of that repertoire into already existing courses and experiences. The first step is creating a bibliography of texts that I already have on my shelves that I can share with students as a resource. Then I'll move forward from there.

5. The concept of privilege as it relates to social justice work has multiple layers based on personal experiences, the context within which the concept is being explored or discussed, and the rigidity of interpretation. Defining privilege as "unearned advantage" is fine, but that definition needs ample unpacking and space for people to recognize where and when they are privileged and where and when they may not be privileged. Oversimplifying the concept does not help generate more empathy, understanding, or acceptance for the concept.

So there's a theme here, minus the water point. Or maybe that's related as well.  More energy to do work that's really important to me.

Artists I admire: Justin Peck

I first read about Justin Peck in a New York Times article a few weeks ago, when one of his new pieces was premiering at New York City Ballet. Peck is a soloist for the company, and he's also their Resident Choreographer. And he's 28.

Peck entered City Ballet's New York Choreographic Institute in 2009 and was identified as a rising young talent. As a result he was asked to choreograph the company's 422nd ballet, and that process became the subject of a documentary called Ballet 422. I watched the film a couple of weeks ago, and it was fascinating and inspiring to watch a young, seemingly unflappable artist maintain control over a process with any number of moving parts (literally), yet somehow continue to behave with dignity, humanity, and tranquility throughout.

There's a moment where a dancer executes a particular movement phrase incorrectly, and Peck asks her to repeat it at least five times. His response after each repeat is simply "No," and then he shows her again until she completes the phrase the way he wants it. As I watched it, I felt uncomfortable for the dancer, as I could sense her frustration and embarrassment that this was happening in a room full of her peers with cameras rolling, and I wondered about Peck's choice to keep making her repeat the phrase. In retrospect, thinking about the moment, I realized two things. First, Peck has every right and a responsibility to ask the dancer to execute the phrase as he wants it. She's being paid to do that. Second, his "No" was never aggressive or condescending or frustrated. Nor was it followed by "that's not right" or "that's wrong."  It was just a "No" followed by more coaching. It made me think about how being direct and simple with an assessment can be valuable. And potentially less threatening or confusing than an overly careful explanation of why something isn't working. I'm very careful sometimes, choosing words and phrases that I think are ways to protect performers, and instead I think that I may be more confusing than clear. Peck was crystal clear in his assessment of the phrase. And the dancer finally executed it correctly as a result of his clarity and coaching.

After Peck sits in the theatre and watches the premiere of his piece, a camera follows him backstage and reveals that he will indeed step back into the role of soloist, a dancer in the company, and perform with some of the dancers who just danced his premiere. It's one of those humbling moments that reminds us that we all put our pants (or tights) on one leg at a time.

For being an extraordinarily gifted dancer and choreographer, for doing it all with precision, grace, and humility, and for showing me that being direct with a performer does not have to be negative, Justin Peck is the artist I admire for this week.