Touchstone Backstage

In the journey of learning my art, one of the most influential and dearest teachers I have ever had the privilege of working with is Paul J. Curtis, Founder of The American Mime Theatre (TAMT). I studied with him, off and on, from 1976 to 1981, but he continued to be a confidant and friend for the rest of his life.

The American Mime Theatre is a professional performing company and training school based in New York City founded in 1952 by Paul J. Curtis (August 29, 1927– April 28, 2012). It is the oldest continuing professional mime company in the USA. The theatre ran under the direction of founder Paul for 60 years.

Its 64th birthday was a few weeks ago. Happy birthday, AMT.

Paul is the impossibly handsome one just to the right of the performer holding the camera.

Paul created the medium known as American Mime. He is missed by thousands of students and audiences throughout the world, whom he moved deeply with his teaching and performances… Paul J. Curtis, a man who lived moment to moment with unwavering uncompromising untamed deepness of heart.

An image from the mime play from TAMT repertory: “TLovers”

Paul said, “American Mime is a complete theatre medium defined by its own aesthetic laws, terminology, techniques, script material and teaching methods. Basically, it is a medium for non-speaking actors who perform, in characterization, the symbolic activities of American Mime plays through movement that is both telling and beautiful.”

Born in Boston, Paul served in the Navy in World War II. He studied with the notable German director Erwin Piscator from 1947–49. Later, he went to Paris and studied with Etienne Decroux. In the 1970s, Curtis founded American Mime, Inc. and International Mimes & Pantomimists. In addition to teaching at his own school, Mr. Curtis was chairman of the Mime department at the American Academy of Dramatic Arts, 1956–71. He also taught American Mime at many institutions including Cornell University, Bennington College, Goodman School of Drama, Fairleigh Dickinson University, and The Leonardos in Paris.

On a roof top with the first company at Jacob’s Pillow Dance Festival, 1952. Paul’s at the end of the line. All photos courtesy American Mime Inc., Archives

Just to put it simply, I miss him. Deeply.

The Company and School continue Paul’s work under the direction of Jean Barbour at their studio in New York City, and information is available on their Classes and Performances at The American Mime Theatre, 61 Fourth Avenue, Floor 2, NY NY 10003 212-777-1710

We’re well into the search for next year’s apprentice class (speaking of! If you’re a recent college grad with an interest in physically-based, community-inspired theatre, come audition!), and in the process of that recruitment drive, I find myself looking back at the apprentice classes I’ve known over my time at Touchstone.

We start out with the class of 2007-08 – fellow Gettysburg College alum Tom Christian (seen here top left) was an apprentice that year, and he reached out to a number of his classmates, including me, about the great experience he was having as a Touchstone apprentice. I tiptoed into auditions, and I haven’t left since.

My class comes next – 2008-09, with Jana, David, and Adam (note the scarf, hat, and hoodies… man, eight years at Touchstone, and the theatre heat in February is still terrible…) I’m not much good at talking about anything that vaguely involves myself, so let’s move on to…

2009-10 – lovely Zach, who is now off in sunny California, and lovely Anne, who is now off in beautiful France. They are seen here doing a really lovely movement piece that involved a soccer ball.

2010-11 – Anne back for her second apprenticeship year, this time joined by local lady Mariel (also now of California). These two made a really terrific pair of excellent collaborators (and could charm their way through pretty much anything).

2011-12 was my first year serving as apprentice coordinator! Here, we see Meggan, Nicole, Rob (who was another fellow Gettysburg alum!), and Katy. This image of them with dog leashes attached was an apprentice promo photo for several years.

2012-13 – Kayla, Kyle, Kathryn, and Gary (or “KGary,” as we tried to call him… we really wanted the alliteration to work!), a.k.a. the four apprentices who made it rain lemons in the theatre at the height of their Fresh Voices production. This quartet couldn’t have been more different and proved that great art often thrives best from a diverse ensemble of creators.

2013-14 – Jordan, Cathy, and Mallory brought unique strengths to the apprentice year. Their ensemble piece for Fresh Voices was probably the funniest that I’ve seen yet. And their combined work ethic was gargantuan – a really good team.

2014-15 – Last year, we had Anna and Remy, both of whom are still in that local-and-partially-involved stage of post-apprenticeship (Anna teaches YPL, Remy is a frequent volunteer, and we still see both of them around the building on and off). We’re excited to see where the next few years take them.

At time of writing, our 2015-16 apprentices, Julia and Raven, are in the process of developing their first draft of Fresh Voices material to share with the ensemble – and in just the blink of a few months, I’ll be adding their pictures to a collection like this, as they take their place in the apprenticeship hall of fame. But in the meantime, outreach to the apprentices of the future continues – and promises to be just as rewarding.

I remember being told as a senior in college that my generation would change not just jobs but careers roughly five times throughout our professional lives. Reflecting on that bit of info which, for some reason, I retained for the last 15+ years, I consider myself quite fortunate that I found a home with one theatre company in my post-college professional life. Though, to be fair, within this company, I’ve filled many jobs: stage manager, grant writer, lighting designer, marketing coordinator, costume designer, managing director, director, special events coordinator, production manager, facilities manager, teaching artist, box office manager, etc.

Alternating between artistic and administrative roles within that list was an intentional choice. If I ordered chronologically, it would start on the artistic side and gradually shift to the administrative with little blips of artistic peppered in. A slow transition over time, like the frog that doesn’t jump out if you put it in a pot of water and gradually turn up the heat, but will if you drop it into boiling water. Perhaps not the best metaphor, but it’s kinda accurate. I remember resisting more responsibilities on the administrative side at first and then at some point, falling into them more and more and leaving the other side behind.

At an arts event last week, all the attendees were asked to put themselves into smaller groups – artist, administrator, business owner, patron – wherever they fit best. I found myself briefly wanting to go to artist, but heading towards administrator. Also last week, we kicked off our latest community-based production – a revisiting of Steelbound set for 2019 – with the six core artists at Touchstone, complete with popping the cork on a bottle of champagne and toasting to the future project. A exciting beginning to an exciting project, but when asked how I wanted to be involved artistically I could only think of development, marketing, house management, and box office. All important and often creative roles in the project, but not ones that flex my weakening theatre art muscles. And then the clincher came a couple days ago, when an email came in from Trinity Rep that read “Great Writers” in huge letters up top with “Harper Lee and James Baldwin” written smaller below next to a picture of each…and what did I read? “Grant Writers”. It took me a few seconds to realize that these two authors were, of course, not also grant writers. Why did I read it that way? Maybe because my mind lives in the administrative world and not the artistic, or maybe because I’m often moving quickly and taking in info based on my perception of things and maybe not reality (yikes, that’s a big one!), or maybe there’s an option three that I haven’t quite figured out yet.

Whatever the case, I know I’m happy to serve an arts organization I believe in whole-heartedly, through the various and sundry roles of administrator and artist. Now though, I think I owe it to myself (and the company) to be more aware of how this shift from art-focused to admin-focused has affected my work, who I am now, and how I perceive things. I also need to remember to recognize the creativity that exists in my admin work, like crafting the language for a compelling grant or orchestrating the flow of a fundraising event. And unlike the frog, I’m aware of the pot I’ve chosen to boil in and will boil on in the name of good, transformative theatre!

On June 27, 1986, a month after I turned nine, the film Labyrinth was released in the theatre. I was a huge fan of the muppets, so this was a must see. Little did I know that seeing this movie would serve as a formative moment in my young musical life. I had heard David Bowie on the radio and on MTV, largely from his hits off the “Let’s Dance” album, but was never really that drawn to him. To my cloistered coal region sensibilities, he seemed like a bit of weirdo. But in Labyrinth…  Bowie was playing with muppets! And to boot, I feel in love with the music. I grew up in a house that always had musicals playing, pretty evident in a lot of my artistic work, but this was different this wasn’t a musical for my parents; this was all mine. It was new, it was fresh, it was everything I loved. The Muppets. MTV. The 80’s.

My friends and I would run around singing all the songs from the soundtrack.  I knew every lyric Bowie penned from that movie. As I grew older, I never out grew it. It just laid the base for an ever deepening appreciation of David Bowie. Throughout the years, I’ve gone through different phases of life that have brought me in touch with the different phases of Bowie’s career. Mesmerized by his endless talent, each re-introduction engrained itself in my musical voice. While I wouldn’t ever say “I’m the worlds biggest Bowie fan”, I certainly count myself amongst the millions of musicians who he has had a profound affect on and continually find inspiration in his music, theatrics and style.

Recently, Touchstone Board Vice President and owner of The Lesson Center, Lori Roberts, invited me to play some songs at an upcoming Leukemia and Lymphoma Society benefit, featuring the music of Bowie and Glenn Fry.  (You should all check it out)  What better way to honor one of my musical idols? I was allowed to pick three songs to perform. This is what I settled on:

“Fill Your Heart” – Originally written by Tiny Tim as the B side for Tiptoe Through the Tulips; covered by Bowie on Honky Dory

“Within You” – Bowie from Labyrinth (I’m imagining a distilled version something akin to the first 1:35)

“All the Young Dudes” – Written by Bowie (usually performed by Mott the Hoople)

And to back me up, I’ve enlisted some of Touchstone’s finest friends and family!

Emma Chong – Flute, backing vocals
Of course you know Emma, from… well anything that Touchstone has done in the last 8 years.

Erick Black – percussion, backing vocals
Erick has served as percussion with the Ulysses Dreams pit band and most recently in Journey from the East.

Dan Leathersich – guitar, backing vocals
Dan was a multi-instrumentalist in the Ulysses Dreams pit band, but most recently you would have heard a song he wrote “Outside the Box” song by a teddy bear, in this years Follies.

Jason Hedrington – Accordion, backing vocals
Former Touchstone Apprentice and best keyboardist I’ve ever met in my life.  You’ve seen Jason in past Follies, the Ulysses Dreams pit band, Journey from the East, and Don Quixote.

Kevin O’Boyle – Piano, banjo, backing vocals
Two-time Follies Musical Director and leader of the Ulysses Dreams pit band, you can also hear Kevin and some of the Touchstone family in his project The Sugarpills.

Anna Russell – Viola, backing vocals
One of last season’s apprentices, we got to hear Anna make music in three projects: Follies, Journey from the East, and Dear Tamaqua.

Steven Barnett – 12 string guitar, backing vocals
A featured performer in the last half-a-decade of Young Playwrights’ Festivals, Steven has also taken the stage in featured roles in A Resting Place and Journey from the East.

Christopher Shorr – Cajon, backing vocals
Last but certainly not least, Christopher has been involved in too many Touchstone projects to list, but most recently you’ve enjoyed his work as Co-Playwright of Journey from the East.

Playing Bowie music with this talented group of people is going to be an amazing experience.  I hope you’ll all come out and see us!

“Keep your ‘lectric eye on me babe.

Put your ray gun to my head

Press your space face close to mine, love

Freak out in a moonage daydream, oh yeah!”

• David Bowie, Moonage Daydream

Photos by H. Scott Heist

The work at Touchstone– this love and service of beauty in the form of theatre– finds its way out of the rehearsal room to the stage and spills over into everything we do. I can’t seem to not talk about it. It sets the fire and passion for learning in our educational programs and provides the framework and inspiration for our large Community-Based endeavors. As David Brooks recently wrote in the NYTimes: “Beauty is a big, transformational thing, the proper goal of art and maybe civilization itself …Beauty conquers the deadening aspects of routine; it educates the emotions and connects us to the eternal.”

The art critic Frederick Turner wrote that beauty “is the highest integrative level of understanding and the most comprehensive capacity for effective action.” And thus what we learn in its service provides useful insights, and these we’ve tried to apply to stimulate creativity in the business sector with our Corporate Creativity Events.

Brooks goes on to say:

“The shift to post-humanism has left the world beauty-poor and meaning-deprived. It’s not so much that we need more artists and bigger audiences, though that would be nice. It’s that we accidentally abandoned a worldview that showed how art can be used to cultivate the fullest inner life. We left behind an ethos that reminded people of the links between the beautiful, the true and the good – the way pleasure and love can lead to nobility.”

Well, here’s perhaps where I part ways with Mr. Brooks a bit. He’s too polite. We didn’t “accidentally abandon” anything. We consciously chose to place beauty second to utility, creature comforts, and money (or third or fourth or fifth) Blame it on the all too sensible Puritans, or the excesses of the Mother Church that forced the Protestant Reformation. Blame it on the Dutch and the materialism of the ever growing domination of the market place. But it was a choice, not an accident. I’m speaking in broad generalities here, but to put it simply, we all too often choose money and safety over beauty and risk. When I was discussing the necessity of choosing a creative life with a patron of Touchstone recently, she said, “Ah, but that takes a lot more work.” Yeah. It does, and so often we choose the easier route, the one, as they might say, “more traveled by”.

Whenever I travel abroad, I always am struck by how much more the arts are appreciated by people who are not Americans. In Ireland, to be an artist, particularly a writer, is to be a national hero. In England, to be an actor is to be a bulwark of national pride and identity. In Russia or Chile or Hungary, to be an artist is to be at the center of power. The work of the artist is at the very dangerous crux of political, economic, and social consciousness.

Photos by H. Scott Heist

Whereas, here, in the United States, well, you know what it’s like. It’s about Celebrity, Wealth (or lack of it in my case), Entertainment– Show Business. This is the work, for me, more and more these days: yes, the commitment to make truly beautiful art, as hard as I find that to do, but even more so, to change my culture so we understand how important a commitment to art and creativity is and that it effects everything–whether we are working in the fields of education, government, finance, manufacturing, and of course in our spiritual lives. Beauty matters. Push come to shove, beauty matters.

When I was growing up, I got into a kind of argument with my Dad. He didn’t oppose my trying to be an artist, but was VERY skeptical. Of course, most parents worry how their children will find a way of making money. I get that. Still, I wonder why parents don’t equally worry about their children’s ability to make beauty. Beauty matters.

The picture just above, from The Whitman Piece–my play about theatre and the importance of beauty—the insanity of it, its eternality, and the dysfunction of we as people trying to work together.  I’m in the center, wearing my father’s shirt. Photos by H. Scott Heist

I started writing my blog post about three weeks ago. It wasn’t this. Guess the time got away from me.

Follies has a way of twisting and distorting time. It feels like we start Christmas celebrations at the end of September/beginning of October, hit a peak at beginning of December, and then work like crazy to keep that seasonal high lasting through three weekends of performance.

It’s easy to complain about how early the Christmas decorations go up in stores. I get that. Sometimes I agree. But there’s definitely something energizing about rocking out to Christmas music (or rocking out to not-traditionally-Christmas-music-but-I’m-wearing-an-elf-suit-so-it-must-be-Christmasy music), especially with a fun, talented group of people that you love.

Follies is a joy this year. I mean, it’s a joy every year. Still, it’s a challenge to sustain that seasonal joy over thirteen shows. Part of the process for original work (and Follies in particular) is the fact that it’s created anew and often still evolving; you create the show, you trust the director, but it’s not until there’s an audience in the room that you know how the thing moves and breathes. Still, deviate too much and it ceases to be the same show. You want to be practiced, precise, but adaptable – while simultaneously projecting seasonal joy, love, ridiculousness, and energy. It’s a lot to track in your head.

After being a part of the process for eight years, and having been raised Jewish, I find myself wondering lately what Christmas is like for “normal people.”

For me?

Christmas is Bill in a wedding dress, singing “O Holy Night” in falsetto.

Christmas is a battle royale of yellow post-it notes on the rehearsal room wall: 120+ scene ideas walk in, 24 walk out.

Christmas is clown noses and shopping carts and high heels and a full-head fish mask and a panda.

Christmas is costumes draped out across every seat in the theatre while Lisa dresses us up, scene by scene.

Christmas is me trying to capture backstage moments on camera, despite the dim lighting playing havoc with the auto-focus.

Christmas is sold out houses on closing weekend, full of families who waited until all the kids were home for the holidays to come and see the show.

It’s closing weekend, so pretty soon, Christmas will be shifting to things like travel, spending time with family, catching our collective breath, and eating too much food (or drinking too much boilo…). But looking back at the past two months of merriment and insanity, it really is such a privilege to be a part of Christmas for so many people every year.

And look, I know it’s like, ten months away, but we’ve already started kicking ideas around for next year’s Follies…

It’s that of year again when many things come colliding together and all these things are urgent! Yup, it’s Christmas City Follies crunch time, which also always coincides with our annual audit, and, because why not keep things interesting, let’s throw in a Board Meeting on the first day of the audit too. Cue stress… now!

Fortunately, I’ve learned some important tips when it comes to time and stress management over the years. One lesson that took me a little while to accept was that taking a “time out” rather than “pushing through” is ultimately more effective. If I feel like I’m hitting a wall and not thinking as clearly I should or just super sleepy, I’ll give my officemates a head’s up that I’m giving myself a time out for 10 minutes. Then, I go do my favorite yoga pose – “legs up the wall” – on the wooden bench outside the rehearsal room in the upper lobby.

“Legs Up the Wall” or Viparita Karani:

It’s amazingly effective for me as a way to refocus and recharge, especially when I pair “legs up the wall” with deep breathing exercises. Plus, since I sit or stand most of the day it helps with circulation to have my legs at a higher point than my heart. It’s also supposed to be great for your nervous and digestive system. Perhaps the most important lesson though is that doing less is more. By simple resting and not running around trying to get a million things done at once, I’m allowing my body to recuperate and am far more effective afterwards than if I would have powered through.

Last week, during the Follies/audit/board trifecta, I did this pose and realized as I came out of it that there are a number of marks on the wall from where the heels of my shoes rest up against it. I’ll need to clean those off before opening night of Follies!

The Network of Ensemble Theaters defines an ensemble as: a group of individuals dedicated to collaborative creation, committed to working together consistently over years to develop a distinctive body of work and practices. Ensemble members, both artists and administrators, are empowered to help shape their theater’s artistic direction and organizational structure.

For Touchstone, this isn’t just a definition; it’s a means of existence. I’m sure I speak for all of us when I say that the lines between home and work are blurred beyond clear definition. Beyond being our livelihoods, this is our art, our vision, and we’ve decided to create it with each other. It’s a marriage. It’s a battlefield foxhole. It’s a senate. Some might call us exclusionary in the act of Ensemble making; you don’t often find Touchstone (outside of our community-based undertakings) holding open auditions or rapidly bringing new Ensemble Members into the fold. This week, we once again remember, in part, why: because it hurts when someone leaves. It’s the dissolution of the family. It’s the fallen comrade. It’s the nation collapsing in to it’s pieces. Whether on good terms or bad, it hurts either way.

I often tell people the quickest way to become friends with someone is to jam. It’s that simple: pick up an instrument and play… sing a song together. When the music ends, you’ll carry that moment of sublime human harmonic resonance forward. But whenever the best music ceases, there is always a moment of emptiness, something where there was once something. In the mythos of the Greek god Pan, there is a story where Pan and Apollo had a musical competition. Pan played first, and all of the animals and humans came to hear the beautiful music and celebrate in it. When Apollo played, all sat rapt, and when he was finished playing, it’s said that the absence of his music made everyone feel as if they had lost a loved one. Apollo was crowned champion.

This week, Ensemble Associate Josh Neth leaves his post for the greener pastures of sunny California. Josh had been a part of the Ensemble for the last two years and had become not only an invaluable member of the artistic family but a true friend. We will all miss you, Josh. Thanks for jamming.

Christmas City Follies XV (2014)

Christmas City Follies XV (2014)

Journey from the East (2015)

In workshop with Teatro Potlach (2015)

Holden—the protagonist in J.D. Salinger’s The Catcher in the Rye, and title of Anisa George’s new work from George & Co., now performing at Fringe Arts in Philadelphia.

First a few words about the image above. Matteo on the left, Adele walking center, Scott in the red t-shirt, and Anisa all pregnant, leaning on her elbow, and supervising the rehearsed moment on the far right. I think it’s Alex on sound with the laptop.

It was close to a year ago that Anisa called together a handful of friends – designers, directors, choreographers, actors – to Dan and her home to read a script she’d drafted with her co-workers (There will be important collaborators I fail to mention, but certainly Jaime – eventually to play Chapman – must be named). That’s about when I started getting involved.

Emma has asked me to write a bit about it, but it’s hard for any number of reasons. First of all, I’ve worked with Anisa making theatre since before she could talk, and creating a piece like this with her is a profound life-privilege, if you know what I’m trying to say. It also is a professional gift, as the piece is easily one of the most beautiful works I’ve ever had the good luck of being a part. I am deeply grateful to Touchstone for giving me the permission to do this piece at not great levels of remuneration – which means Touchstone is supporting me a bit.

Anyway, there’s a long but fairly entertaining interview Anisa masterminded about our working together, art within the family, that whole thing. I encourage you to listen.

Scott and Mateo rehearse, Anisa supervising, a moment in Holden. Anne, our stage manager, is over on the right with the blue scarf. Matteo’s character (Zev), on the right, is teasing Scott’s (Hinckley) about being a “rhyming prosey man”. They’ll soon be on the floor wrestling.

The whole question of why do this stuff always bounces around, sometimes hitting me in the face and at others just…bouncing, never to go away I guess. After all, Holden will see, after so much plain ol’ grunt work, anxiety, hope, and assiduous loving labor, at best, a thousand people. The kind of dedication required is profound, the remuneration that results pitiful. It’s a cliché that isn’t very funny and it speaks to the values of our culture in ways that can’t be dealt with here. I simply wish to say, I’m grateful.

I was lying up stage of Salinger’s cot on the set at Fringe Arts as pregnant Anisa, hardly able to move (she’s due in just three weeks), worked with Scott (again and again) on a particular movement phrase;  I decided to sneak out my phone to take a little video.

The stage:  it’s a magic and even holy place when enchanted by a loving and honest act of dedicated creation.  I thank God I am permitted to express my gratitude for the gift of life through this act of collective creation.

Closing performance tonight! Come see us!

The community-based Dear Tamaqua project came to its epic finale last night, with fireworks, chiming bells, and Jp and Anna rocking out with Tamaqua’s mayor. We even had a train participate in festivities!

Train coming through!

(No joke – we had been trying for months to try and figure out if there would be a train running during the performance, which they were not allowed to tell us for security reasons, and right before the finale, a slow train chugged through town. Kids put pennies on the rail, and everyone waved to the conductor, and it couldn’t have been timed more perfectly if we’d tried!)

Hiking in the woods to set up lights

The wonderful Boy Scout themed “parade float”

Setup efforts included traipsing through the woods to place lighting units, neighbors decorating their front porches as parade “floats,” graffiti art summarizing the varying attitudes of Tamaqua locals on their hometown, and massive paths of white cloth guiding the audience.

It was also a rare opportunity for Touchstone personnel; usually, we got a year or two (or more) in between large-scale, outdoor, community-based productions, and to have two in the same year meant that we were in much better practice for what a performance like this takes. In performing outdoor work (let alone large-scale outdoor work, let alone traveling large-scale outdoor work), there is so much that depends on proper prep getting done (large crews available at the right time, reminders for the hundreds of people involved to wear sunscreen and stay hydrated, anticipating the sound and light in a space, putting together remarkable new set pieces for the first time, and more). Major props to Mr. Jp as the production’s director/designer/co-conceiver and Miss Amber as badass stage managerette for the staggering amount of logistical prep!

For the show itself, I got to hang out with and assistant stage manage a collection of performers, ranging from local dance and vocal talent from the performing arts academy to cheerleaders from the high school to a local belly dance teacher and two of her students. It was wonderful to be able to watch these talented folks perform for their friends and family, as well as people who might have never seen them perform otherwise.

And now – at the end of it all, the morning after the show, there’s that familiar post-outdoor-community-based-epic-theatre feeling of aching muscles, slow rehydration, blur of memories from the day before, and immense satisfaction at having helped create something important to a lot of people.

The tunnel out into the finale area

We’re proud to have been involved in this incredible project. Thanks, Tamaqua!