Artists I admire: Jess Honovich

This week I'm highlighting a former student, Jess Honovich. Jess studied Educational Theatre at NYU, got her bachelors degree, then entered the work force for two years. I had Jess in a number of classes at NYU, and then last year she acted in my site-specific project at Red Bank Battlefield. Her Irish indentured servant was a highlight for audiences, and she was a pleasure to work with on that project.

While all of this was happening, Jess was quietly working away at her writing, creating short plays, working on full length plays, and taking writing workshops. Last year, she applied to MFA writhing programs, got herself multiple offers, and decided to head to Carnegie Mellon's program in Pittsburgh. I saw Jess in October for coffee, and she was doing great! Exhausted from navigating graduate school, but completely energized and excited about writing. Our coffee on a bench in Washington Square Park, chatting away about writing, was a highlight of my fall semester. I loved learning from her that afternoon. One of the best things about being a teacher is when a student, current or former, teaches me something. It's the best way for me to stay current. Otherwise, I risk becoming stale.

Much to my delight, Jess posted on Facebook that her first full-length play Suicide Dogs opened last night in Palm Springs, California. She had told me about this back in October, but I didn't make the connection that it was happening so soon. I'm thrilled for Jess, and I can't wait to see what comes next for her! I have a feeling it will be a string of very good things.

For her quiet perseverance, her humility, her sense of humor, her steady growth as an artist, and her generous attitude as a collaborator, Jess Honovich is the artist I admire for this week.

Artists I admire: Team Enthroned

My blog was quieter than usual this week because I was in Dublin, Ireland, completing the work on the premiere of Jenny Macdonald's one-woman show Enthroned at the First Fortnight Festival.

The week was a whirlwind of activity, but also loads of fun and incredibly gratifying. Beyond the work I've been doing with Jenny over the last six months, I had the opportunity and privilege to work with Troy Hourie, my friend and colleague of 20 years and a fantastic scenographer. He created a unified visual world for Jenny's play, and it allows for Jenny to have a beautiful and transformative final moment in the play.

I also had the chance to work with Jenny's fantastic producer Michelle Cahill, who kept us all moving forward with a smile and a quiet support. I felt supported from start to finish because of Michelle, and I wish I could find some way to have her here in NYC. What a gift!

And Sorcha Shanahan started as the assistant director and stage manager, and then became the lighting technician and also the house manager. She did all of those jobs with a bright smile, and a level of enthusiasm and precision that's difficult to match. 

Our ASM Seroosh Salimi came into mix on Wednesday, and in a couple of hours, it was like he had been with us from the beginning.

It was a pleasure and a privilege to be there in Ireland, working with friends and colleagues old and new, to make something that was truly gratifying and moving in its opening on Thursday evening. I sat and watched it all unfold, somehow connected to each of the people above, watching them work in their own individual ways to make the production a rousing success.

For all of the above, and because I'm so damned proud of what we accomplished as a group of artists, the members of Team Enthroned are the artists I admire this week.

Artists I admire: Aretha Franklin

I've known about Aretha Franklin for a long time. How could I not? How could anyone not know about Aretha Franklin???

The Queen of Soul recorded the iconic song "Respect," which I've always loved. And then when I was a teenage, she recorded her hit "Freeway of Love" with a music video to go with it. That song was on MTV's "Top 20 Video Countdown" for any number of weeks, and I remember thinking how cool that a woman who sang what I thought of as an "oldie" had a hit in the 80s. Embarrassing to admit, but true.

A few years ago rumors floated around that Ms. Franklin has cancer, and some of her concert appearances were cancelled as a result. I've subsequently read that the health scare was not as severe as first reported, but I still wondered about what was happening with the Queen of Soul. Thankfully, I found out on Tuesday evening when I watched the taped broadcast of 2015's Kennedy Center Honors.

I love the Kennedy Center Honors to begin with, but then Aretha Franklin came out to honor Carole King by singing "(You Make Me Feel Like) A Natural Woman," and it was all over. Full length fur coat, sparkling purse dropped atop the piano, accompanying herself in the piano to start the song, beaming back-up singers giving her the stage and probably wondering how they were lucky enough to be there with her, and then a downstage stroll that included her coat dropping away, Ms. Franklin shook the Kennedy Center and created an iconic, untouchable performance of a song that was already a classic.

I'm not sure that performance on that evening back in December when the show was taped can ever be topped by anyone. Aretha Franklin performed with humility and grace and complete control. And even though she did something extraordinary, it was still absolutely clear that she knew she was honoring someone by doing it. For me, her performance stands as an amazing example of what it means to be a collaborator and an interpreter, to understand that the writer is the primary artist and gives a gift to the performer. And then it's the performer's job to render it with that in mind. Just watch the reactions of Franklin and King after the song is finished. It tells the entire story.

Because I continue to watch the video of her performance with complete awe, admiration, and respect, Aretha Franklin is the artist I admire for this week, and the first one for 2016!

Aretha Franklin http://amzn.to/1OYuCYU ITunes http://apple.co/1QWU5IN Carole King http://amzn.to/1OrTsjv ITunes http://apple.co/1QWUhYk 1 million views 12-31-2015 2,3,4 million 12-31-2015 5-6 million 1-1-2016

Artists I admire: Charles M. Schulz

When I was a kid, our local library had a large number of Peanuts books, collections of comic strips that appeared in syndication and were then collected and anthologized in these books. I loved reading those books because I learned more about the characters, their pasts, and why they behaved in the comic strip I would see each week in the Sunday newspaper.

I also religiously watched A Charlie Brown Christmas special on television every year. At that point in time it was barely a decade old. This year that special show celebrated its 50th anniversary. Each year I still try to watch the show, but I own it in DVD and watch when it's convenient for me. This year, that was this past Wednesday evening, the night before I traveled down to my family for our Christmas celebrations. I sat down with my cat Buster, some dinner, and a cocktail, and watched the saga of Charlie Brown and his friends as they tried to navigate the growing commercialism of Christmas. As I took in all the familiar scenes, I couldn't help but notice that we're still dealing with so many of the same questions now, 50 years later.

At that famous moment when Charlie Brown stands on stage and yells, "Isn't there anyone who knows what Christmas is all about?", Linus steps forward and offers his explanation, only after asking, "Lights, please?" And then he proceeds to tell us what we need to hear. When the bustle takes it out of our hustle, we need to remember Linus and his message. Not because it's a religious message, but rather because it illustrates just how far removed we've gotten from the intentions of Christmas.

In his book Theatre: The Rediscovery of Style, the French theatre director Michel Saint-Denis wrote about how when a play has style, it transcends age and time because it has quality. He used this description of style to explain why we still produce Shakespeare's plays 400 years after they were first written. I venture to say that we continue to watch A Charlie Brown Christmas and read the comic for the same reason. Charles M. Schulz found some way of showing us something about ourselves that truly resonated all those years ago and continues to resonate today. The questions he raised in the television special and in the syndicated comic strip won't go away. Even when they're specific, about something like Christmas, we still find a way to relate that experience to the larger world, regardless of religious practice. Specificity leads to universality, not the other way around.

For reminding us what Christmas is all about for 50 years and for allowing children to be the ones to say what we all really needs to know, through their innocence and their learning, Charles M. Schulz is the artist I admire this week.

Artists I admire: my students

It's that moment in the semester when I'm faced with all the data from the work of my students at NYU, and it's time to somehow assign each of them a grade. The process of wading through their essays, my own notes on student presentations and performances, and peer assessments of other students' work can feel incredibly daunting, especially when faced with the holiday season and the deadlines that swirl around because of that.

However, for every challenge inherent in having to assign a student a grade for their work, there's a triumph as well. I have the pleasure of teaching in a discipline that invites a student to take a risk and then hopefully rewards those risks even when the results aren't what the student had hoped for. That doesn't mean that everyone gets an "A" because they tried; that practice drives me crazy and truly illustrates what's wrong with our current education system. But the lessons learned from taking risks far outweigh the sadness one might feel when they don't get the grade they were expecting, and I try to think about that when I assign the final grades for the semester.

My students typically accept the challenge of risk taking and make the most of it. They jump in with generous spirits and try things, we talk about what works and doesn't work in those attempts, and then we collectively move forward and try again. It's what artists do, and it's really what should be assessed and then rewarded in the life of the artist. Not whether every piece of work we create is better than the one before it. What does a body of work created over time show us about an artist? I wish I could assess that rather than a snapshot of a moment in time.

For their willingness to take risks throughout this semester and for keeping me on my toes at every step of the way, my students are the artists I admire for this week.