Working Title: Life is Short Lived. Take a Chance and Get Lucky

On this Saint Patrick’s Day, Will Leschber beckons and reckons with the Saint of Fortune.

Luck and Chance.

As a younger man, I felt that luck took a back seat to drive and effort. It’s possible that the surrounding culture I grew up in silently instilled Manifest Destiny in my bones: that every thing was possible if you travelled far enough, worked hard enough, pulled your boot straps up enough. You could create, you could perform, you could do it all. The world could be in the palm of your hand if you just reached out and grabbed it.

While I think this is boldly true, as a now older man, I also think chance plays a greater part in our lives than I would have liked to believe.

Maybe it’s easy to feel this way when we are youthful and so much is ahead. Everything is possible and all doors stand open.

Only now am I starting to feel like an adult! (Sidebar, it’s about damn time! You’re no Peter Pan, kiddo! You are 33 and are a week away from being a new Dad! Grow up already!!) As part of the theatre community, we revel in make believe and truth and principles and emotional and challenge and risk. Getting on that stage can be beautifully scary. It harnesses what it means to be alive. Edging further into my 30’s, I have become acquainted with the dark side of chance and find myself lucky to have remained less scathed. I’ve held close friends who passed too early, seen others who have fought cancer, known many who wrestled with their own kind of addiction; plus there’s been loss and love and madness and the rest. I’m not here to say that it’s all darkness. Far from it. I find that there is more light bridging the gaps in our hours. What I am saying is that chance is at play and the wheel spins both ways through your days.

Just recently, I had a friend who went in for a routine ACL surgery. Everything went fine. He was home in recovery and all seemed to be improving. Until it wasn’t. He started loosing feeling below his knee and couldn’t move his toes. When he got back to the hospital the doctors had no idea why the circulation had stopped in his lower leg. How could they not know!? Within a day the news went from “Oh he’s back in the hospital with complications” to “he might lose his leg”. I had no words. I could not believe it. Things are better than ever in the medical field and outliers still run to the edge of the bell curve. Shit happens. Crazy, unexpected wildcard cases still happen. It’s baffling. It’s scary. It feels like the Wild West. It feels like the point where your youthful, live-forever, invulnerability cracks.

Perhaps instead of a cheery lesson, focusing on the light, I’d say drink it all. Hold close the shadow, feel it fully and then let is pass. Life’s shadowy milestones will fuel your appreciation for everything else. The spectrum of experience turns with the wheel of chance and fortune.

What does this all have to do with theater and film, you say? Ah, Will, you old man. Did you forget that’s the point of your blog? Whoopsie Daisy!

There are few other careers or pastimes that function from a foundation of chance the way the performing arts do; Or creative endeavors of any kind for that matter. We build glorious microcosmic worlds; create them, paint them, clothe them, live them… and let them close and drift into memory. Any play or film that comes to be is riddled and rippling with good luck and favorable chance. It’s a crap shoot often with tons of expended effort and finger crossing. No one needs to be reminded of the concept “life is theater and Theater is life.” BUT what has been overwhelming my mind of late, is how much the concept of “you never know” actually influences our lives. We all know this. Sure, I’ve known everything since I was a teenager! But, as we age, we actually learn it. We don’t know if this rough-as-hell final dress performance will pull together for opening night or if we will get hit by a bus crossing the street to work. Chances are you aren’t gonna see it coming. So get lucky if you can.

Okay, back to this current life. Well, nothing says luck and chance like a popularity contest, right? PianoFight is in the midst of their ShortLived play competition (Round Three starts up again on Thursday). Each week, this madness has a way of showcasing the eclectic, the funny, the dark, the lovely and the rest. Life is short. See ShortLived.

Also, while you are in the market for short lived artistic experiences, look up the this year’s Oscar winning animated short film, Feast. It’ll remind you that luck can save you from eating off the street, chance has a way of shining through the dark and dogged effort can balance your plate.

Until then, this new-Dad-to-be hopes luck has the chance to find you on this Saint Patrick’s Day.

Cowan Palace: Hey Assholes, Ready for a Fight?

Ashley Cowan balances hugs and cuddles with blades and waves.

I’ve never been much of a pot stirrer. I’m either seasoning that pot into a delicious savory dish or I’m burning my mouth to devour what’s inside it because I’m starving. But making a point to cause a heated commotion? Eh, it’s not exactly my thing.

Growing up, I always valued kindness above everything else. I believed that nice guys finished last only because the best things are saved for the end. Even now, I’m the kind of person who can’t sleep because I’m worried I forgot send someone a happy birthday greeting on Facebook.

But I realize “being nice” isn’t exactly an ideal trait to possess in a creative circle known to praise voices who are outspoken, artistic, and bold. And often I find that because I’m not speaking out of anger, my voice tends to go unheard.

Except in RENT, where I got a microphone.

Maybe my blog and my general lifestyle don’t scream in raging profanities. Sure, I watch a whole lot of terrible reality television and endless videos of adorable animals doing adorable things. But that doesn’t mean I’m not a valuable member of this community too. And it doesn’t mean my voice deserves to be talked over just because someone else is speaking louder.

It’s been an unfortunate understanding to realize that often people assume because I’m nice, I’m also stupid. Not like a moron, just sweetly stupid and naive. Ignorance is bliss, you know what I mean? And sometimes that sucks for me. Just because I’m kind it doesn’t mean that I care any less about making this community stronger and better than what it is right now. Yes, I’m aware it’s far from perfect, but I often chose to view it with optimism instead of getting drunk and yelling about it. I want to thoughtfully problem solve. I want to be a part of the conversation. I want to make positive changes.

Plus, why do I have to be angry all the time to make this a better theater scene? If we’re aiming to have more honest conversations, why does honesty need to equate anger? I appreciate those of you who get fired up and burn to encourage change, I do. But if we all go around starting fires everywhere we step, pretty soon every theater will be made of ash and we won’t have a place to play.

See those fences? They guard the ashes.

And, I want to work again! Preferably here. If I trash talk everything, who is going to want to work with me? Besides, the real truth is, I’m not exactly in a position where I can get away with always speaking truthfully about every poor production I’ve been a part of or every performance I haven’t really cared for, especially in such a public forum. I’ve learned when to hold my tongue and when to inquire its service in helping me to address a concern.

But to all those pot stirrers out there looking to pick a fight, I just ask that you think about what you’re fighting for. Does every conversation we have about the current status of Bay Area theater need to end in an online and/or offline shouting match in order to make a statement? I’m fighting but my war tactics differ. And I’m going to keep on my kindness train because it’s what I do. In any case, I’d like to think we’re still all on the same side and I hope this is a fight we can win together.

Ashley can cheer too.

Cowan Palace: My Return to Theatre Bay Area and Other Full House Catch Phrases

Ashley reactivates her Theatre Bay Area account and shares her experience the only way she knows how: through the brilliance of Full House.

Growing up I knew three things: 1.) I wanted to be an actor. 2.) I wanted to live in California because that’s where the cast of Full House lived. 3.) I had a pretty scary dessert obsession, especially those of the chocolate variety.

As an adult, I’ve managed to stay pretty true to those guiding forces. I mean, here I am, living in the Tanner’s backyard trying to balance my love of acting and all things sweet. Though, it’s not exactly like I had pictured and my adventures don’t always fit neatly into 22 minute episodes appropriate for families of all ages. But, again, here I am!

When I first moved here in my early twenties, looking to break into the theater scene, I immediately joined Theatre Bay Area. I combed the gigs section of Craigslist looking for auditions. And honestly, it was great. Within one day of living in San Francisco, I managed to book an audition and get the part. Which resulted in A LOT of solo bedroom performances of “I Think I’m Going to Like It Here” from Annie. I knew it was only a matter of time before I’d find myself auditioning for the San Francisco revival of Rent starring Taye Diggs.

But then I got a little lazy. I stopped actively looking for new opportunities and chose to do whatever projects my friends (or friends of my friends) offered me. Which, honestly, was also great. I’m not always the best auditioner anyway and I got to perform a lot of fun roles thanks to being seen in earlier fun roles. And so my one woman Annie tribute band continued!

Eventually, I let my TBA membership lapse. Which, after a little while, caused the inner child in me to point out, “how are you going to be a real actor if you’re not even trying? The Tanners would be so disappointed in you.” Ouch, inner child, OUCH. But that little creep was right. So a few days ago (and after reading Claire’s article) I resigned up for Theatre Bay Area. And to chronicle my experience back, I thought I’d use the help of some of the token Full House catch phrases. Because, well, duh.

“You got it, dude!”

Yes, Michelle and/or Mary-Kate and Ashley, I do got it. I signed back up for TBA! And I got a personalized welcome response from James Nelson, which made my day. This is what I love about being an actor in San Francisco. The sense of community that I couldn’t find while living in New York. I felt optimistic that perhaps my reentry into the theater scene would be as well received.

“Oh, Mylanta!”

Interesting exclamation, DJ, eldest and perhaps wisest Tanner sister. But similar sentiment (I mean, I think? I’m not even totally sure why this one became a catchphrase). When I logged on with eager eyes to view the myriad of auditions I assumed I was missing out on, I instead saw a rather short list. Maybe it’s the time of year? Did I just miss the audition season? Or is there just less theater being done than when I joined the site years ago?

“Cut it out!”

Good point, Joey. No need to immediately panic and assume my acting days are numbered so I might as well drive your car into the kitchen! Why not read through these listings first! So I opted to do a search for ANYTHING and EVERYTHING.

“Have mercy!”

Tell me about it, Jesse. And I don’t even have your hair to help my cause. Okay, the first audition on the list is for Shotgun Players. Awesome! I’ve heard great things about working with them. Now, looking through their post I read, “Prep 2 contrasting pieces (musical/movement abilities may be incorporated)”. Yikes bikes. Well, I have been taking a YMCA Zumba class where I always seem to stand next to someone who smells like sweat mixed with orange juice. Should I attempt some Zumba moves with my dramatic Shakespearean monologue?

“How rude!”

No! Stephanie, I wasn’t trying to be rude. I was seriously asking. I could use some assistance getting back into the audition routine… Next, I come across Grey Gardens at Custom Made Theatre. I know before I open it that my current age isn’t really ideal for this one. Which sucks because that show is going to be something special.(Side note: amusingly enough, the last time I auditioned for one of Stuart’s shows, I had my sister cut me some bangs so that I could look younger and more like child Ashley. It shockingly did not work.)

Child Ashley is judging you… are you making the Tanner family proud?

This has been a harder reality to face these days. I’ve seemed to age out of the roles I moved here for, ones for young gals in their early twenties and yet I’m not quite ready for some of those juicy roles meant for women in their forties and fifties. Or, as I like to call that age range, the parts I played in high school and college because I was taller than everyone else.

As I continue perusing through the listings, I notice a few more musicals and many shows that are happening outside of San Francisco. Unfortunately, for the car- less /Treasure Island dwelling wonder that is me, commuting to these stages isn’t the easiest quest. I also couldn’t help but notice that if you’re a fella willing to travel and/or sing, you could probably do quite well for yourself in the Bay Area! Ah, now I am sounding rude. Sorry. I don’t mean it. I selfishly hoped that my enthusiasm to return to the theater world would be matched with abounding opportunity to bring it to life.

And I’m left with the same questions I had before. Where did the auditions go? I hear about friends going to them; are these theater companies just not posting on Theatre Bay Area? Because that feels like a shame! A missed opportunity to be a part of a proud, established community. And where are they posting instead? What will I tell Kim Kardashian and Lindsay Lohan when they seek my career counsel for breaking into the SF biz? Help!

I’ll await your feedback! And in the meantime, I’ll keep one eye on these audition listings, one on a Full House rerun, and my mouth will undoubtedly be full of chocolate.

Working Title: Social Gravity

This week Will sets aside his regular juxtaposition of theatre and film to look at his invigorating experience at this years Theatre Bay Area Conference.

There is a key concept of Big Bang Cosmology that states that space is ever expanding and doing so at an accelerating rate. Its called the metric expansion of space. Think of it as the entire scale of the universe growing larger. Every space between the clumps of galaxies getting bigger. As space expands all the celestial gatherings who once were close to each other will grow further and further from one another given enough time. Picture our own Milky Way Galaxy and as the entirety of the space around us increases we drift and settle into compact isolation as the eons roll by. Sometimes I feel that growing further into adulthood has this effect.

It feels like a law of nature or a fact of life and therefore isn’t something that you can get overtly angry about. People grow up, leave home, leave school, leave jobs, start a new life, start a new relationship, start a new family, change communities, change paths, change all the time. Its hard to get mad at a clock for ticking. Yet, it is something that can induce pensive thoughts of times gone by. Or aspects of our lives that we have let drift. Two weeks ago I attended the annual Theatre Bay Area Conference and was struck with an overwhelming sense of how much I miss being more closely entwined with the theatre community in the Bay Area.

For almost a year now, I’ve held a job that regularly works it’s employees 55-70 hours a week. Additionally, only a day to day schedule is provided which all but dashes any kind of plan making. It’s hard to plan a sleeping schedule, let alone plan any theatre involvement. It wears on you. it grinds constantly. On the flip side of that coin, I experienced a rejuvenation by spending mere hours in the company of creative individuals who were passionate and excited about the state of Bay Area theatre today.

The first break out session I attended, Slapping the Monkey: Offensive Theatre, was uniformly funny, challenging, thought-provoking and at times borderline-offensive. The panel was damn fun! It was great to be back in a space where artists of varying kinds (street performers, puppeteers, writers, directors, company artistic directors) flooded the audience with their ideas of creative currency. These discussions filled the time with value. Their myriad opinions of what qualifies as offensive theatre ran the gamut. “Lazy Theatre is offensive” / “Audiences who put up with shitty, sub-standard theatre are offensive. Those audiences offend me as an artist!” / “Street performance by nature is offensive…that’s why I do it.” / “I’ve never been offended by something I thought was good.” This was the kind of discussion that makes you feel glad to be a part of something. Participants and audience members alike were active and engaged with ideas: boundaries of offense, how that relates to good theatre, what goes too far, how much does intent play into offensive, is an artist responsible for the audience reaction, tactics to keep audiences engaged, tactics to offend, the list went on. All in attendance took part in an active discussion of how these things impacted the living organism of Bay Area theatre and us as a community.

It’s was nice to be reminded that we are all working in this community along side each other and not drifting alone out there. I filled the rest of the day by performing a few readings in the playwright workshop, having lunch with a sizable group of enjoyable friends and seeing the closing ceremonies / Glickman Award presentation. To my astounding pleasure, I also stole 20 minutes to audition for a play being produced this fall. It has been an age since I took the time to audition. Going through the motions of adult living has at times made me feel akin to a narcoleptic zombie, half asleep and dead inside. And one day of TBA events served to remind how good it is to feel active and alive. Regardless of how natural it is to drift away from things into adulthood, the only thing that keeps things bound together and of importance to each other is diligence and constant joyous effort. Instead of forever drifting into isolation, I think it’s time to fight towards social gravity and a community that pulls creativity together.

Theater Around The Bay: Bad Auditions (We’ve All Been There)

Guest blogger Megan Briggs has some tips on how to recover from an audition gone bad.

If you’ve been an actor for more than 5 minutes, you’ve probably survived at least one bad audition. The good news is that you are not alone. I’ve spoken to so many of my actor friends on this subject and they ALL have stories about an audition gone terribly wrong.

While a good audition can make you feel like you’re flying for the rest of the day, a bad one can make you curse the world and want to go home and crawl into bed. And that’s OK. Having been there myself, I’ve come up with my own way of dealing with a bad audition in three easy steps:

Step 1 – Hate the world… for a little bit

So you’ve just had a terrible audition/callback. Maybe you didn’t feel great about the way you read the part. Maybe the director kept trying to give you feedback about the scene but his accent was so thick you couldn’t understand him. Maybe your assigned audition scene partner kept interrupting your scene with lines he made up in an attempt to be more “spontaneous.” Maybe you met the pre-cast male lead and he’s 4 inches shorter than you. Yep, these are all things that have happened to me at auditions, and that’s just the tip of the iceberg!

So in the 24 hours after your bad audition, I give you permission to get mad. Call a friend and rant. Yell at inanimate objects (preferably not in public). Write out your frustration in your journal. Go have a few drinks with your friends. Curl up on the couch and watch stupid reality show marathons to feel better about your own life. Do whatever you need to do to express your frustration, anger and sadness over what has occurred.

Step 2 – An honest post mortem

After that 24-hour period is up and you’ve had a chance to get some distance from the situation, it’s time to take a look at what went wrong. Analyze you actions and your reactions to the situations you were given. What would you have done differently? What would you have done exactly the same? Is there some useful information to be gleaned from all of this? It’s good to be really honest with yourself, without beating yourself up too severely. I personally have gained some great knowledge from doing a terrible audition. Maybe you need to work your audition pieces more, take an improve class, or practice cold reading with a group of friends. You can really improve your audition by reviewing what happened and thinking how you can do better next time.

Step 3 – Go get another audition!

You may know the expression “the best way to get over someone is to get under someone else.” Same thing goes for auditions! The best way to get over a bad one is to go out and have a good one! I find that signing up for another one as soon as possible is the best way to get out and feel like I’m being proactive. Just knowing I have another audition lined up (even if it doesn’t happen for a while) makes me feel better.

The waiting game

Finally there is the situation that every actor dreads.  You nailed the audition, the callback was even better, and the director seemed to like you for the part.  You cross your fingers that at any moment you will get the call offering you the role.   Except that call never comes.  In fact, you don’t even receive an email telling you that you haven’t been cast!
 
That waiting process can be agony, and it’s even worse when you hear absolutely nothing.  At some point, you have to take control and put an end to your own waiting game.  I personally give the director exactly 1 week from the date of the last audition/callback to give me notice on whether or not I’ve been cast.  If I don’t hear anything, I’m going to assume that I have not been cast and consider other options (right after I properly mourn the loss of the part – please see steps 1 thru 3).

Hello? Oh, it’s you Mother. I thought it was the director calling to offer me a part!

I wish that all theatre companies let us know the status of their casting decisions, but as Allison Page pointed out in her recent public service announcement, many companies and directors will never get back to you after an audition.  It’s frustrating, but it seems to be the way things sometimes work in the San Francisco theatre scene.   The one good thing I can tell you is that you are not alone.  It happens to all of us.  

The best advice I can give you is to not let a bad audition get you down for long. The truth is that this is an industry full of rejection and it’s probably always going to be that way. The good news is that actors are awesome people, and we are willing to share war stories with one another in an effort to create a sense of community. If you’re feeling down about an audition, one of the best things you can do is talk about it with another actor.  Chances are they’ve been there and can provide a sympathetic ear and help you feel better.

So get out there and audition with all you’ve got! That reality show marathon wasn’t all that interesting anyway.

Megan Briggs is an actor with a sympathetic ear and few war stories of her own. Starting May 16, you can see her perform (along with her awesome castmates) in The Crucible at Custom Made Theatre Company in SF. You can also check out her non-theatre related blog MacGIRLver: Tips and tricks from a gal who’s been there.

Cowan Palace: My San Francisco vs. Their Never-Never Land

Ashley feels like Wendy Moira Angela Darling. And she needs your help.

I’ve been doing a lot of thinking about San Francisco. Duh, right? I live here. But I came across an article that got me thinking a bit more about the city and its evolving relationship with its residents.

Since I made the move to the Bay Area I’ve lived in the Outer Sunset, the South Bay, the Inner Richmond, Berkeley, the Mission, the Haight, the Outer Richmond, and then I made my way to Lower Pac Heights where I lived for over five years. Recently, I moved into Treasure Island. Along with sounding magical, it’s still considered a part of San Francisco. Even though sometimes, I feel like I’m outside it, watching the city lights from my bedroom window calling to me from across the bay.

Ashley’s view from Treasure Island. She’s judging you. Yes, you.

Thanks to The Huffington Post, this article struck me at an interesting time. Its entitled, Goodbye San Francisco, You’re a Passionate Lover. In it, Eric Barry bids a farewell to our city by the bay and expresses his feelings covering his last six and a half years here. Wait a minute. That’s the same length of time that I’ve been in San Francisco! I read on.

And Barry states, “You need to know that this is no longer a city for artists, or writers or musicians. This is no longer a city for teachers. This is no longer a city for the person who just served you that 3:00a.m. burrito. This is a city for the wealthy, and money changes everything.”

Hold the phone, Eric! This is why I moved here! To be an artist, a writer, a musician. A teacher. A burrito enthusiast! I so desperately wanted to ignore that idea. But considering I found this article days after my own move, I couldn’t help but invite some of these ideas in while I sorted through boxes of memories my own past six years.

What broke my heart most was his acceptance in leaving. He writes, “Despite all the phenomenal memories I have for San Francisco and it’s people, I’ve stopped growing here. The city has come to feel like Never-Never Land, which is great until you decide that you would actually like to grow up a little.”

Damn it. Is that true? San Francisco presents a changing landscape without the presence of time masked by seasons. Buildings sprout as frequently as the housing costs do and it’s hard to avoid the growing pains. And as much as I hate to admit it, this place has changed from the one I picked as a home.

For starters, the Bay Area struggles with a displaced residents’ plea for help that’s getting harder to try and silence. Homelessness is up an alarming 20% since 2011 and food stamp usage and eviction rates are at a record high. And the divide becomes more apparent when you consider the 14,000 people who are bussed out to sunny Silicon Valley from our city streets to enjoy complimentary company snacks.

Wait. I sound bitter. My apologies. I think I’m just frustrated. A perhaps a little sad.

Those 14,000 people picked to live in this city like I did. Maybe they were drawn to the imaginative, open-minded, community based artists who kindly welcomed me. The ones who accepted me and helped me to survive on limited means because we nourished each other in different ways. Important ways. Or maybe they’re here because money can be a siren with song impossible to tune out. And, honestly, how can we blame them for seeking competitive wages for their modern abilities? I guess what hurts me is the reality that so many of us were magnetized to this area for the creative culture. The folks who offer their talents by lending a voice to a reading series, illustrating an original project, or producing a new piece without the hope of any financial reward. The ones who do it because they truly love it and wouldn’t be the same people without it.

For me, the tech world seems to have drifted in like the fog; pretty from a distance but dangerous when you find you’re surrounded in it, unsure where the treasured things you’re familiar with are hiding. I worry the heart I’ll inevitably leave in San Francisco will just be replaced by a savvy emoticon.

I’m grateful to have a home and food on my plate. But I’m someone who needs growth and development. And importantly, hope that my home can provide me with that. I want to live in San Francisco. But I’ve outgrown Never-Never Land. And I’m not interested in taking care of any more lost boys in the process.

So I come to you, my friends, with a challenge. Because that’s what we do, right? We have to push each other to believe in our art and each other. What can we do to honor the place that may have called out to us for different reasons but urged us to stay together? How can we grow alongside the tall tech trees? I’m willing to fight if you are.