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“Limitation frees creativity.”

By on April 17, 2012 in Art, Writing

One of my favorite “theater books” is William Ball’s A Sense of Direction: Some Observations on the Art of Directing (1984), which is so stuffed with wisdom that on my first read I found myself underlining half or more of every page until I gave up and scribbled inside the cover, “Read every year.” His deeply informed advice includes a section on choosing a central metaphor for a play, usually a painting or photo that in turn affects colors, textures, timing, light, context. I thought about this a lot in my few primitive attempts to direct scenes, including a 10-minute pastiche from The Whistler back in January 2011, in which I relied on a Lucas Cranach oil painting of Adam and Eve. One of Ball’s points is that choosing the right limitations (or having them chosen for you) moves a project forward, gives it flavor, nuance, inventiveness. And that without limitations, whether the mask of a centuries-old painting or a thing so pedestrian as a budget, we artists will dawdle indefinitely.

I thought about his observation that limitation frees creativity last weekend after receiving a call from my Cincinnati co-producer of The Whistler, Carol Brammer of the Clifton Performance Theatre. The actors had convened on a Thursday night for a first full table reading, and had agreed that the script as presented was untenable. Not too surprising for a new, un-workshopped play, but a disagreeable conclusion to hear if you’re the playwright. Once my ego recovered, I was thrilled to realize that I had just heard specific, useable advice: eight people with decades of combined theatrical experience had actually read my play so closely and sympathetically that they could advise me on just where to insert the scalpel. Conveniently, the advice came in notes from a ten-minute phone call so it wasn’t so exhaustive or so specific that the constraints it imposed were irritating. Instead they liberated me: to cut several scenes from a two-hour and fifteen minute juggernaut; to simplify music cues; and to rewrite an ending that has troubled every reader of the piece since its inception. And precisely because I have lived with my six characters and their narrative for three long years, I was able to do it in a single weekend. I sacrificed some of the play’s charm but none of its beauty.

Deerslayer in real life

By on April 1, 2012 in Music, Writing

The actress who plays Deerslayer, the talking rifle in The Whistler, happens to be Juilliard-trained cellist and composer Gerri Sutyak, who wrote and performed the score for the short film below.  Her musical talent will figure prominently in my play as well.

The film Carl & Jim, by 12-year old scriptwriter Michael Wolfe. Check out the score.

And she can whistle loodles.

You can watch a clip of Gerri as Deerslayer in my pitch video.

The Whistler goes live!

By on March 27, 2012 in Music, Writing



Here’s the latest and best take on The Whistler yet, as we reveal more secrets about the play and ratchet up interest in attending and contributing.  I’m proud of having edited this video on my USA Artists page, but the acting and moviemaking talent are what make it work.  By the way, donations through USA Artists are tax deductible and we have cool premiums.

The words we use

By on March 24, 2012 in Writing

My background research on The Whistler led me to lay hands on a few issues of Life magazine from 1965 which I keep around my office.  Too dispirited to jump into work after hearing the latest news update on the Trayvon Martin killing, I began leafing through the August 27, 1965 issue. The cover story was on the Watts riots:

  • Arson and Street War–Most Destructive Riot in U.S. History

The interior subheads read:

  • Out of a Cauldron of Hate–Arson and Death
  • ‘Get Whitey!’ The War Cry that Terrorized Los Angeles
  • In a Roaring Inferno ‘Burn, Baby, Burn’
  • Wild Plundering–Grab It and Run
  • Deep New Scars in the Rubble-strewn Precinct
  • Deadly Souvenirs of the Insurrection [sic]

The slant is hard to overlook, but maybe it was an outlier. I took the time traveler’s privilege to backtrack and rifle through March 5, 1965, with its cover story on the assassination of Malcolm X.

  • A Monument to Negro Upheaval

trumpets the cover.  Hm.  There are others, but you don’t need to hear them.

I’ve been thinking lately about how we transcend racism, and how we fail.  The Martin case is depressing, outrageous, and thought-provoking, but it’s not news. We’ve been here before; in fact, we never left.  How many times in your life could you say, “It’s a choice between us and us, not us and them.” It takes an act of intellection, almost a leap of faith: it takes having friends of another color. In The Whistler, Joshua the jazz musician tells Henry the protagonist that “Every morning when I look in the mirror I think, ‘Oh look, you’re black, and you’re going to be that way all day.'”  Until he has a different story to tell, our sickness must get worse. But the truth, as another character points out, is always bigger than the stories we’re able to tell about it. Therein, I think, lies the hope.

And in the meantime, the distance from Life magazine’s “Get Whitey!” to the death of Trayvon Martin is short, pointed, unexceptional, unacceptable.

Speakeasy on Race

By on March 12, 2012 in Uncategorized, Writing

Did I say The Whistler would be on Court Street, and the tickets $10?  Oh la!  My partners on the ground have found a better space literally around the corner at 815 Race Street. It wasn’t a Prohibition beerhall but you gotta love the name “Speakeasy on Race.” We’ll have less work to do to fix up the space–mostly removing a drop ceiling–and it’s not quite so narrow, which should afford better audience views from anywhere in the house.  Now that we’ve done a real budget, ticket prices, after all, will be set at $15 recognizing that we’ll give discounts for large groups and students.

I do want to talk more about the role played by race in this story.  The Whistler is no by means a civil rights play though the movement certainly forms a backdrop to much of the action and affects what characters decide they must do, and how.
Colored Childrens Library in US
Were the topic whether racism is bad or the South more ignoble than the North, that would be melodrama, and this ain’t that. If anything it’s about how Americans manage, in our better moments, to transcend race in spite of all our efforts to enshrine it. Audiences will notice that the main character, Henry, is a very lukewarm liberal who claims he voted for Kennedy but now wants to let the rule of law wind its slow course along. Similarly, Joe Summers, who complains that Negroes share swimming pools with the daughters and wives of whites, turns out to be a very lukewarm bigot. And that’s exactly the point. We could all boo at Simon Legree and cheer on Uncle Tom (well, many would), but at the end of day there’d be no catharsis.

Hate them both, if you want. I’m also going to try to convince you to care what happens to them–because they’re funny?  Because they both have soft hearts? Because their bark is worse than their bite? Or just because you see yourself in them.