Covid Couldn't Rain On Our Parade!

 My first time back to New York since the fall of 2019 was a thrilling and emotional experience. We had tickets to see the two big revivals, FUNNY GIRL starring Beanie Feldstein and THE MUSIC MAN starring Hugh Jackman and Sutton Foster.  We flew out two days after the Tony Awards. Just before leaving, an email  landed in my inbox from Broadway.com announcing that Hugh Jackman was out with Covid.  Fighting down frustration, disappointment and a little irritation that no one appeared to have masked at the Tony's, I decided to hold on to our mezzanine tickets anyway.  Then, in the airport, another alert popped up on our phones.  Beanie Feldstein was out with Covid.  Boom. Covid strikes again. Only a couple of weeks earlier,  a local production of OUR TOWN, to which I had been invited, closed because too many cast members had tested positive. 

Directors at every level from high school to Broadway have faced the same challenges and the same questions - Will the show go on? Can the show go on? The Covid cloud hung over my entire theatre season. Mask mandates.  Quarantines. Testing. My season theme  mocked me.  "A Season of New Beginnings"  seemed like a good idea in the spring of '21 when we mistakenly expected that we would be returning to normal. Nothing has been normal in the theatre except the constant anxiety that has accompanied any and all plans, schedules and performances. 

So when we got the news about Beanie and Hugh, it was an all too familiar feeling. The surprising silver lining, however, was the electric excitement that came with watching the standbys step into these iconic roles - ready, willing and able. As Fanny Brice, Julie Benko was extraordinary.  Life was imitating art as she belted out "I'm the greatest star, I am by far, but no one knows it." They do now! 

As Professor Harold Hill, Max Clayton was charismatic, charming and utterly engaging. He held his own with the superb Sutton Foster.  Thanks to audience cancelations,  our mezzanine tickets got upgraded to house row H center orchestra seats. We  clapped along to Seventy Six Trombones and cheered wildly at the curtain call. 

I felt a kinship with the Broadway theatre community at both of these performances.  I felt a surge of emotion, bordering on catharsis, as I entered the Winter Garden and August Wilson houses after three long years.  I realized how much I had missed Broadway. And perhaps more importantly, how much I love the theatre. Why this came as a surprise, I don't know. But when you come so close to losing what you love, there is a renewed appreciation for its place in your life. 

This has been a long tough road.  Like all theatre directors and educators, I'm desperately weary. But I'm also deeply proud to be a part of a community that has proven itself to be incredibly resilient, determined,  creative and supportive of one another. Bravo to the standbys, swings and understudies who have kept the stage lights on with their talent, professionalism and heart.  I learned an important lesson on this return to New York:  The show must go on! 

On the Creative Process

 I'm guilty of having a lot of creative ideas. Sometimes the best ideas are the ones that terrify me the most. Lately, I've begun to examine this pattern.

It goes something like this:
One moment I'm sitting on the couch like a lump feeling purposeless, unmotivated and utterly worthless. The next moment an idea hits like a bolt of lightening. I feel a quickening in my gut. My mind begins to explode with thoughts. I see the potential. I connect the dots. Boom! I have a fully visualized concept!

 It's at this point that the surge of creative energy shifts and the anxiety sets in. I'm consumed with fear and doubt. What was I thinking?
I border on panic.
 It's at this juncture that I face a choice:
Curl up into a ball and pull the covers up over my head or take the first step toward making the vision a reality.

What am I afraid of? I reject the notion that I'm afraid of success. But maybe I am.
Or maybe I fear being consumed. Once I begin a project,  it's a deep dive. I cannot stop until I have mined the depths, explored every option and imagined the big picture.  Time ceases to have meaning. Hours go by without pause. Even when I get up from my computer to eat, my brain is still active. I absentmindedly fix myself a sandwich while the details swirl around in my head.  My desk or office begins to look like a bomb has gone off -  drawers open, files, papers, books, pictures, journals, notebooks are strewn around the floor. Piles with colored post-its identify next steps and to do lists.

If I allow myself to jump in, I know that I may not come back up for air for a very long time. That is the fear. It's all or nothin'.

They say "leap and the net will appear." Almost everything I've done has been aligned with this belief. There is a difference, however, between risk-taking and recklessness. When a creative risk is worth taking, I feel it in the core of my being. There is a palpable tension between the excitement and the fear.

The next step for me is to look for the right people with whom to share the vision. It's very important to be careful in this stage because the wrong person can kill the creative energy. I've learned to stay away from wet blankets!
The right collaborator is equally passionate about the project, understands the creative process and has skills and talents that I lack.
I have very high standards. But I do not allow my perfectionistic tendencies to paralyze me.  I also make mistakes because I move quickly.  I need someone who has my back and the courage to steer me in the right direction when I get off course.

I believe that every obstacle can be overcome. But it's not a straight road. Detours are inevitable. U-turns and changes in direction are part of the journey.  I do not lack patience with the meandering path. I embrace it.

I do lack patience when barriers are erected out of fear.  I believe that it's important to seize the day. When the opportunity knocks, open the door. The intensity of the creative fire begins to wane over time.  After the initial surge of inspiration, the nitty gritty work begins to realize the dream or vision.  I love both of these stages and thrive on the implementation of a project.
It's important to keep going even when you feel lost or out of control.  I always follow Rilke's words, "Live the questions."

I've come to understand my process and my behavior in each stage of a creative project. To quote Rilke again, "Everything is gestation and birthing."  The labor of giving birth to a creative vision takes time.  Determination, perseverance, tenacity, trust, and belief are all critical to success.

Remember:
"A vision without a task is but a dream, a task without a vision is drudgery, a vision and a task is the hope of the world." From a church in Sussex, England, circa 1730