Sunday, January 21, 2007

post 328. our town, day 1.

friday i sat next to munson hicks and charlie hyman - looking up charlie hyman on imdb, i find the guy's been on the a-team and a slew of other shows. at the first break, i leaned over and introduced myself to him.

ME: hello, i'm tim.
CHARLIE: hello. i'm charlie.
ME: you were in john bull's other island, right? [a show geva did a while back.]
CHARLIE: no. i was in inherit the wind.

so right off the bat i mistake the guy. nice. then comes the read-through and there's a bit of confusion. i end up reading the part of "man in the auditorium" since i thought this was my secondary role; there is no "man in the balcony." but as it turns out the "woman in the balcony" that was in my script was updated to "man in the balcony" in a newer version of the script, and i was reading someone else's lines. and whose lines were they? charlie hyman's. thankfully enough, he's a right nice guy and we laughed it off. but sheesh - what a way to make a first impression.

post 327. our town, day -1.

a lot of people don't know that geva theatre center has this boss scene shop, out by high falls. in this huge space they build all the sets, then chop them up and take them over to the theatre where they assemble them. the finance department was taking a trip out to say hello so i tagged along; the grey wall in this picture is the back wall for our town, and will have...well...you'll have to see it to get the effect.

i went to my costume fitting this past thursday for our town; the designer skip mercier and amanda doherty watched as georgia put me into a "stunt suit," a thin, all-white suit from which she'll make my real suit. and georgia's no slouch: i heard that a suit she made for a guy in inherit the wind ended up costing geva $2000. that's a pretty good suit.

post 326. identity crisis.

Tuesday, January 09, 2007

post 325. scene work.

uses in the improv troupe have been talking about trying to advance our scene work by writing stream-of-conscious-y scenes by ourselves. this is my first attempt at trying a scene that failed last night in practice with paul nellis. this is about five minutes of unedited, non-stop writing.

the man enetered and saw the youdg art student painting. ahhh, i see you are still working tin the medioum of the streets. spray paint. why must you worknin such a medium that is chliche and reeks of the lower classes? meaustero, this is the oaint i’ve always used. the measetsro told the boy i want you rwork to be grewt, which is why i sponsodred you. but your work of late has become stale, and ineffective. th e peple i know in the art community are beginning to talk. i think we need to make you more passionate. how, maeustro> i weant tyou o quit school and devote your liekfe to art. it s tuor rue calling. your’e like a diamond in the rough, and if it can be hewn, then i will be the person to do it. ghow do you know what great asrt is, maestork, the biy asked…becayse, the maesoostru said, i used t be an artost, just like you. i used to have the passion and the vision to vreate art that would have brought the world to its feet with rounds of applause. i can stoill hear it nbow…ut maistestro, i like this wa. no , you should ..you should mve here.. more stay here more. you should become more than my protégé. i should hire you to…butle. you’ll be my butler. i need one, in my delcling ing age, and you’re just the person. i want you to find your voice. right now it is unkmatched. well, i gues s that’s a good isdea. i fdon’t know though, quit school? i forgot to show you. here: i vobought you this. its a paint set and as many canbvases as tyou want. i believe in you, bow…now you must belive in me. well…hereedit i know your parents don’t kilek you. imy parents lve me, masestro…do they? when did they buyyou canvsases? they’re poor. aha! if they wanted toyou to be great, great like i once was, they would have given uou more canvases/ my parents liove me just the way i am, maestro, well…do tyhey> yes, the boy said, they do. just the otrher day my parents gave me, with the last nit of their savings,, this can of black spray aint. i love it. i wantit to last forever.,i even save it. just to remember that thidss is what mey perant s want. do they? well, here…opens door…here’s a hundred thousabd paint cans. you must dstay with me and further your art. no maestro, no i won’t. i gotta funny dfeeling about you. hey, it’s my parents. hello, son, hello mom and dad.