The time it takes...

I used to be someone who took life as if it were a curve banked for speed. The goal, as far as I could tell, was to get things done first and fastest. Decisions, including huge life questions, like who do I want in my life, where to live and how to pursue a career were made at lightning speed. Without a deadline, could I even exist?

I can't pinpoint the moment I started slowing down - was it burnout? Age? The sudden realization that I didn't have a clue where I was going even if I was breaking the sound barrier getting there? Some time in the past decade, the deceleration started. It scared the hell out of me at first; I thought I was losing my edge. Becoming irrelevant, soon to be left behind in the dust of all those younger, sharper people out there Getting Stuff Done!

But I find I have finally learned the value of letting things unfold in their own time. It's a revelation. Staci and I push the peanut forward, one step at a time, learning what this theatre wants to be and needs to be, as we go.
There are moments of urgency and frustration, sure. Like how to write a meaningful mission statement that doesn't rival War and Peace in length. But things inch along, feeling solid and purposeful and right.

I'm grateful for a slower pace. Guess I am embracing snail wisdom right now. There will be time to call the jackrabbit back later, as we get closer to opening night, Right now, I am reveling in the process!

Sometimes all it takes is a little tilt

On the last day of February Jayne and I met at a friend of hers at Old City Java in Knoxville. Jim Owens is an actor and artist originally from Detroit. He and his wife lived in Knoxville for awhile ("I worked a lot" Jim said) and after exploring Los Angeles and San Diego he and his wife have recently moved back to Tennessee.

The reason we were meeting was that Jim had volunteered to work with us on a logo for the Flying Anvil Theatre. Why? Maybe he's crazy. Maybe he finds meeting middle-aged women over espresso exciting. Or maybe he's one of those talented and generous artists that I cross paths with in this business who remind me how exhilarating the process of creating art can be.    

You know what? Maybe it's all of the above.

However, even before I met Jim, I saw his work. Bold, colorful paintings and prints lined the brick walls of Old City Java. Jim paints what he terms "car-noir" - a combination of sexy autos and stylish women emanating attitude from Hollywood circa 1950.

And his work is amazing. 

Here's his website. Check out the goddess print. Cool, huh?

http://www.jamesowensstudio.com/

Speaking of cool - Jim had brought his Mac and we played with images, fonts, sizes, colors, words for the logo.  We drank more ice tea. Jim and Jayne discussed the wings, which Jim had originally hand sketched on the back of a napkin.  Jayne liked the left wing.  Jim advocated for the right wing. We joked about political leanings but quickly went back to the art. 

After about an hour Jim got an idea and put a tilt on the word "theatre."

  

 - and yes, yes, yes. Heavy, light, flying, tilted, serious, whimsical. Perfect.

We plan to put it on everything - shirts, hats, shorts. Maybe I can finally talk Jayne into getting that tattoo she always said she'd get. Someday.

At which point we'll put on our heels, slap on some lipstick, rev up the old Caddy, and varoom!  If we get lucky enough we may even get to pose for the next Jim Owens print.

Hey Y'all - watch this!

Flying Anvil Animated

Tell us again - you're doing WHAT?!

The Elephant in the Room

NY Times reports on NEA comments - is theatre simply a case of supply and demand?

I find it fascinating that the "Are there too many theatres?" conversation is taking place on a national level. Is theatre an art form past its prime?  Are there simply too many demands on people's time, wallets, and attention spans?  Too many easy ways to find entertainment, inspiration and insight into the human experience?What the heck are Jayne and I doing, anyway, wanting to start a new theatre in Knoxville?  Does theatre even matter anymore?

It's good to be challenged.

Had an interesting discussion with friends last night about whether Knoxville already has too many theatres for its size. Paul made some strong arguments that this was so. Should we be discouraged? I certainly wasn't - for one simple reason.  And here I must walk a tightrope between honesty and tact, but imo, Knoxville has too few theatres that aim to astonish and emotionally engage their audience every single night.

Theatrically, we're stuck in a long-time cycle of low expectations, low self-esteem and low quality. "The audience is too stupid to get it. " and "It's good enough for Knoxville."  are two phrases I've actually heard spoken in local theatres - one professional, one community. It's an epidemic of mediocrity. No wonder so very many people here pay big money to fly to New York twice a year for their theatre fix.


There are two ideas central to our still-being-developed mission statement. High quality and maximum impact. High quality doesn't necessarily equate to spending oodly-gobs of money on sets and costumes, although the same high standards should apply there as well. I've seen a number of productions locally that mistook slickness for quality. For us, high quality is very personal - it's demanding the best of yourself and everyone you work with. Steppenwolf Theatre in Chicago was founded on the principle of aiming for a better performance every single night of every show. A lofty goal, but one that excites and motivates me.

Can the Flying Anvil Theatre be the Steppenwolf of Knoxville? Can I fulfill my secret fantasy of becoming the Pat Summit of Knoxville theatre? Why the hell not? All it takes is an uncompromising commitment to choosing exciting, emotionally engaging plays performed by professionals who are passionate about pushing themselves and their craft past their limits. It's about understanding that the reason for our existence is the audience. Our job is to open a dialogue that challenges, entertains and ultimately, changes us all. We'll earn our paychecks like anyone else  - by putting out a competitive product that people want.

Are you rolling your eyes yet?  That's okay. We have a lot to prove. But I am motivated by memories of evenings in the theatre that left me emotionally drained, exultant, speechless, awed and altered. The six hour Dragon's Trilogy by Theatre Repere - performed on the stage at Clarence Brown. Steppenwolf's Grapes of Wrath. My first Broadway musical - Pippin. And I am bouyed by memories of theatres I've worked at that actually made money by putting the focus on the people in the seats - not to pander to them, but to invite them to share in an emotional adventure.

So even if there is too much theatre in Knoxville, I am certain that what Staci and I intend to offer is different and needed. And worth every penny we'll charge for it. If it isn't, well, then we don't deserve an audience.

Dreaming a theatre into being

So last night, instead of sleeping, I designed our lobby. Played with color schemes and worried over lighting. I came up with some group sales ideas. I even imagined what I would wear to the gala opening! All fun - far more fun than the logjam of paperwork we're amassing as we negotiate the deep legal waters.

But here's a question for any and all - what would YOUR perfect theatre looks like? What would it produce? Where would it be located? How would you be involved? Give us your opinions, please. Help us dream this anvil off the ground!
Jayne

Inspiration, dedication, determination

Ellen Stewart, the Mama of LaMama, died on January 13, 2011. I can't stop thinking about her.  I'd seen a production of Lanford Wilson's "The Rimer's of Eldritch" at her theater on East Fourth Street soon after moving to New York City. Ellen introduced the play looking like a gypsy - all spangles and bangles and wild, wild hair.  Someone whispered "That's LaMama."   "Who?" I said.  (Hey, I was young.)

In 2007 I had the opportunity to be one of the artists in residence at her theatre center in Umbria, north of Rome. Although we were told Ellen was there, weeks went by without seeing her. Finally one night she joined us after dinner. It was obvious she was ailing, but that didn't diminish the impact of her presence.  We pelted her with questions about her career - all of them some form of "how did you do it?"

 "It never occurred to me I couldn't."

Those words carry special significance as we work to form the Flying Anvil Theatre.  Ellen Stewart was a fierce fuse, an incredible role model of inspiration, dedication and determination.  I was in Italy for a month, writing, eating pasta, and breathing the same air as Ellen.  Is it too much to hope that a few  molecules rubbed off?          Staci

    NY Times Obituary for Ellen Stewart