I create decidedly live performances to celebrate the diversity and possibilities of humanity, its powerful wonder, magic, and imagination. Each production is a celebration of life – a showcase for the physical, psychological, and emotional range of performers and the passionate highs and lows to which they can lead us. With every new project I rotate a kaleidoscope on the world as we know it and draw to our collective attention the unconsidered possibilities and unseen marvels that it may hold. Leave slice-of-life realism to movies and television, what I want to see on the stage is both more abstract and more universal: a key to unlock each audience member’s wellspring of awe.
Actors can focus on why characters do what they do, and designers on the contexts within which those characters and their events take place. I am interested in what happens; both in how those stories unfold and in how audiences respond to different approaches to dramatic story telling. In short, I am interested in exploring structure – and in staging the work of writers who upend expectations and push the boundaries of dramatic forms.
Every project begins with why: Why this play? Why here? Why now? To whom is it speaking and what is it asking them to consider? I pose and reframe these questions to myself and my collaborators throughout the process as we peel back the layers of the onion in search of meaning and as we seek ways to communicate our findings. The performance is as much a record of discovery as it is an end in itself.
The greatest compliment I have received from a collaborator was being told that I “work from love.” I, however, describe my process as passionately respectful. I begin with honesty. If one of us is going to be taking risks, then so must we all; and I should go first. It humbles me when collaborators trust enough to take emotional and intellectual risks in the name of making better art. Their trust demands that I return it in kind and to an end.
Writing about the work makes it sound somber, while the goal for my productions is quite the opposite. I aspire to create events that are thoughtful AND fun – equal parts Dr. Seuss and David Hockney, Esperanza Spalding and Tim Burton – after all, audiences need to both experience joy in the moment and be able to see themselves within the broad abstractions. Working in live theatre requires active collaboration with other artists. What we create is truly a joint effort, unique to the team that fashions it and the moment in time and place in which it occurs. It is a gift experienced in real time by those who gather to encounter it. It is ephemeral and - even when the content is somber - the experience should be a celebration.
Theatre is the place where individuals and communities share revelries and epiphanies; I truly believe that sharing art - becoming part of each other's stories, no matter how briefly - leads to understanding and helps to heal the world. That is why I make theatre.
Actors can focus on why characters do what they do, and designers on the contexts within which those characters and their events take place. I am interested in what happens; both in how those stories unfold and in how audiences respond to different approaches to dramatic story telling. In short, I am interested in exploring structure – and in staging the work of writers who upend expectations and push the boundaries of dramatic forms.
Every project begins with why: Why this play? Why here? Why now? To whom is it speaking and what is it asking them to consider? I pose and reframe these questions to myself and my collaborators throughout the process as we peel back the layers of the onion in search of meaning and as we seek ways to communicate our findings. The performance is as much a record of discovery as it is an end in itself.
The greatest compliment I have received from a collaborator was being told that I “work from love.” I, however, describe my process as passionately respectful. I begin with honesty. If one of us is going to be taking risks, then so must we all; and I should go first. It humbles me when collaborators trust enough to take emotional and intellectual risks in the name of making better art. Their trust demands that I return it in kind and to an end.
Writing about the work makes it sound somber, while the goal for my productions is quite the opposite. I aspire to create events that are thoughtful AND fun – equal parts Dr. Seuss and David Hockney, Esperanza Spalding and Tim Burton – after all, audiences need to both experience joy in the moment and be able to see themselves within the broad abstractions. Working in live theatre requires active collaboration with other artists. What we create is truly a joint effort, unique to the team that fashions it and the moment in time and place in which it occurs. It is a gift experienced in real time by those who gather to encounter it. It is ephemeral and - even when the content is somber - the experience should be a celebration.
Theatre is the place where individuals and communities share revelries and epiphanies; I truly believe that sharing art - becoming part of each other's stories, no matter how briefly - leads to understanding and helps to heal the world. That is why I make theatre.