feeling our way...

Had a wonderful, albeit short, visit with friends Lianne and Ronnie this morning. They're in town from NYC and we brainstormed about what the Flying Anvil will look/feel/act like. I came away from our breakfast totally invigorated and passionate - and not about the cinnamon rolls, either.

Staci and I have been slogging our way through the 501c3 application for our non-profit status. Like all IRS forms, it's long and inscrutable. We puzzle and research our way through each question, and are left exhausted and cranky at the end of our Skype session. Staci is doing the lion's share- keeping us on task and on schedule.

It's not fun work, though I'm glad we are doing it. I want to understand each piece of this puzzle. So we're drafting by-laws and conflict-of-interest policies and three year P&L statements and when we're done in  a week or two, we'll send the unwieldy thing off with a pound of flesh and a hefty check. So there's progress -just not the fun kind.

Which made this morning so important. We can get so focused on the tiny, painful details that we lose the big sloppy picture we started out with. The one with all our dreams and crazy-ass fantasies in it. Where heavy, hard, powerful, immoveable anvils go lofting into the stratosphere.

Ronnie asked what kind of theatre we wanted to do. And I keep coming back to this one word: visceral. Theatre that hits you in the gut, that makes you FEEL something powerful. I'm not a snob about how we accomplish that - hey, I'm a dinner theatre veteran and have great respect for a properly executed spit take!
But I want you to laugh so hard that you hurt the next day. Or sob out loud. Or get a little angry. Or want to hug the stranger next to you. If that's not your goal, why bother? I'm tired of theatre where no one risks anything. Over the years, I've been fortunate to witness some life-changing evenings of theatre. That's what we'll aim for. And we won't hit the mark every time. But we won't give up.

Which brings me to something else I discovered in talking to Ronnie and Lianne. I said something new - I want a "cynicism-free" space. What do I mean by that? I guess that we all put our whole hearts into this. That we aren't afraid to let our honest passion and hopes and fears show. That we honor and respect every step of the process- from selling tickets, to vaccuuming the lobby to the show performed on stage.

And the key to doing that is, weirdly enough, money. Having been an artist (sometimes one who was afraid to claim the label) all my life, I know how being a freelancer of any kind means everything you do has a price tag attached. It can be soul-killing. Makes you a cynic. But knowing your work is valued and you will be paid, if not a living wage, then at least a meaningful amount of money, validates you in all sorts of ways. You can relax and give back a little. So the business end of this venture is as important to me as the art. We want to give back to the community - but we need a core of artists who are treated and paid as professionals in order to find that open-hearted generosity within ourselves.

I often tell my acting students that it's okay to walk away sometimes. To take a break in order to avoid the bitterness this business can brew in you. Then come back with a renewed spirit when they're ready. I feel like I have held theatre at arms length for a long time - and now I understand why. I didn't want to become cynical - lose the love I have for this work. I want to feel every step of this. Every agonizing IRS form and every thrilling breakfast conversation. Every astonishing opening night and horrifyingly small audience. If I want our theatre to make the audience feel - I have to be open to that as well.

One minute it's exciting, the next, I want to throw my computer against the wall. It's messy, but so worth it. Kind of like a good spit take....

Smelling salts, anyone?

Nothing makes me swoon faster than filling in numbers on the business plan. My, how quickly they add up! But Staci and I are committed to doing this right - spending the time and the bucks it takes to create a theatre that enhances our community for years to come. But as artists, we're so used to scrimping and making real silk purses out of phantom pig's ears. And that skill will come in handy. But we're being realistic about what it takes and how much money is needed to get this Anvil flying!

We're also considering our opening gambit. And I won't be giving away times and places just yet - but I have an idea for a killer production that would fulfill all of our stated criteria - exciting, challenging, emotional and rooted in this community. Stay tuned.

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.