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I want theatre that moves. Theatre that you watching without blinking because you don’t know where you might be after that millisecond of darkness behind closed eyelids. I want theatre that opens eyes. I want theatre that can change direction without reason. With love. With reckless abandon. Change without discretion. With heart. With trust. Trust in the journey. Trust in the value of emotion. Motion. Movement. Moved. I want theatre that moves. Moving toward renewal and rebirth and revivificaiton. Not recapitulation. I want theatre that moves. I want roller coaster theatre. Wooden roller coasters that don’t go upside down. Theatre that can make you a little dizzy. Keep you minds and hearts inside the piece until it has come to a full stop. I want theatre that moves. Moves outside. Moves inside. Moves beyond me. And you. And finds us. I want theatre that moves.
A tempest. Flying. An exploding frog. Dancing monkeys. A fire breathing eagle monster. This is just some of what you can expect from Aesop and Icarus, our new play playing December 5th, 6th, and 7th at the UIC Theatre. These are some of the challenges I face as I work to stage the play. How does one show water onstage? Undulating fabric? No! Boring, overdone. Challenge, push beyond the convention. Create new vocabularies. Balloons maybe? Hmmm. That could be interesting. I can’t wait to get the actors into the rehearsal room. Six heads are so much better than one. I can’t wait to begin to improvise and explore with them. How many people get to come to work and their assignment for the day “Today, we are going to fly. We are going to find a way to fly.”
Stew. I never much liked it as a child. My father is a wonderful cook, so its not that it was bad stew, I just couldn’t grasp the idea of throwing a perfect good meal in a pot, stirring it up in a weird sauce and then serving it in a bowl. How unappetizing. While I wouldn’t eat it, I was intrigued by the process of stew making. The imagery is quite wonderful. A fervent flame beneath a large pot. Several ingredients which are transformed in shape, color, texture and size when combined and cooked. Tiny spices and seasonings which greatly impact the overall flavor. A dash of this. A touch of that. A little more. Working from instinct. Carrots just for decoration. All brewed together in a cauldron like a magical potion. Steam. Pungent odors billow out from our tiny kitchen. Artisan is a pot. A cauldron. Our current project, Aesop and Icarus, calls for a long and careful recipe: 1 painter, 1 director, 1 choreographer, 5 actors, 1 sculptor, 1 performance artist, 1 conductor, 60 choir singers, 1 harpist, several puppets, a few masks, 1 brand new script, 1 audience. An extremely complicated and possibly volatile mix. A call for balance of ingredients, a clear hierarchy of flavor and an openness for improvisation with the recipe. A demand for discipline of hand, respect for the whole, and trust in the combination. A result of true artistic collaboration, innovation and exploration.
Artisan thanks everyone who came out to the reading of Jacob Juntunen’s new play Under America at the Prop Thtr on September 5th. We were thrilled to see the theatre filled to capacity! Check out pictures below of the event and a few words from director, Sean Kelly on the experience…
More pics coming soon!
Under America was a truly rewarding experience. The cast embraced the text and each other, bonding almost immediately and developing a great give-and-take ensemble in a matter of days. Our rehearsal room was always full of activity, conversation and friendship, all stimulated by Jacob Juntunen’s wonderful script. I said often to the actors “Isn’t it wonderful when a play can teach you something?” From the abc’s of everyday prison life (“take one foot out of your pants before you crap, that way you can fight back”) to staggering stats and facts about prison labor and its far reaching economic and political ramifications, this play educated us to a terrible injustice lurking on the fringe of our society. Jacob smartly quoted Dostoyevsky in the play’s foreword “The degree of civilization in a society can be judged by entering its prisons.” But far from merely politics and figures, the play painted poignant characters, each struggling with important and conflicting responsibilities in their lives. My daughter vs. my political party. My brother vs. my newborn son. My girlfriend vs. my happiness. Under America touched us all personally and politically. It educated and entertained. It moved and motivated. I am thrilled to have been a part and to have been able to watch it shrink (in pages) but grow in depth, wit and truth.
-Sean Kelly, Director
