On Waiting For Godot, or How This Existential Absurdist Play Made Me Contemplate My Relationship to Ideas of Partnership, Depression and Religion

On Waiting For Godot, or How This Existential Absurdist Play Made Me Contemplate My Relationship to Ideas of Partnership, Depression and Religion
Waiting for Godot set at Theatre Royal Haymarket 2009

 

Since I have an MFA in an aspect of theatre, I’ve read a lot of plays, and I am no stranger to the work of Samuel Beckett.

I first saw a production of Waiting for Godot as a senior in high school while visiting what would become my undergrad theatre department in 2004. I knew nothing about the play, and, while I claimed to be an artsy and intelligent student, I was pretty perplexed by it all.

Waiting for Godot is an existential absurdist play in which two characters, Vladimir and Estragon, are stuck in an eternal loop of limbo in which they are constantly waiting for a character named “Godot” who never comes.

Continue reading “On Waiting For Godot, or How This Existential Absurdist Play Made Me Contemplate My Relationship to Ideas of Partnership, Depression and Religion”

On My Happy Place, or How A Summer Theatre Festival Helped Me Face My Divorce

On My Happy Place, or How A Summer Theatre Festival Helped Me Face My Divorce


I guess if you were to give my profession, my vocation, my passion, a title, it would be “Costume Technician.” There are many different titles that fall under that umbrella and I have had most of them: Stitcher, First Hand, Draper, Costume Craftsperson, even running wardrobe backstage.

Quite honestly, I’m wholly unqualified to do anything else. In high school, I babysat but never had a job in retail or serving. The summer after I graduated high school, I tried to get a job. I applied to anywhere in the mall that was hiring, as well as some restaurants. I was discouraged by the fact that they wanted to hire someone with prior experience, and yet I was just starting out. How was I supposed to get experience if I needed experience to get the job?

I ended up getting a job at Bath and Body Works, and, despite being shy, I found that I really had a talent for selling those gift baskets. I was just starting to learn how to operate the cash register when, about 20 hours into my new “career,” I was told that, unfortunately, they weren’t hitting their summer numbers and had to let go of their seasonal employees.

So I have 20 hours of experience working retail.

And still none serving, being a barista, or anything else remotely “marketable” in a mainstream sense. And I would rather live in a dumpster than be a nanny nowadays.

Looks like I’m going to have to keep staying gainfully employed in theatre.  Otherwise I’m screwed.

Continue reading “On My Happy Place, or How A Summer Theatre Festival Helped Me Face My Divorce”

On the Vulnerability of Being An Artist, or Oh Goodness I Hope I Have Something People Actually Want To Read

On the Vulnerability of Being An Artist, or Oh Goodness I Hope I Have Something People Actually Want To Read

Mark Rothko Red On Maroon
Panel from Red On Maroon Mural (1959) by Mark Rothko (via)

Last night, I attended a performance of the John Logan play RED produced at my place of employment.

It’s a fascinating play featuring dialogue about art, philosophy, and life through the lens of the artist Mark Rothko in the late 1950s.

I was especially struck by a line that Rothko said when he was asked about how he felt about sending his art out into the world.

Selling a picture is like sending a blind child into a room full of razor blades. It’s going to get hurt and it’s never been hurt before, it doesn’t know what hurt is.”

–Rothko, in the play RED by John Logan

This was such an apt description of the vulnerability of being an artist, and the tenuous release of one’s work into the cruel world of critique and opinions.

Continue reading “On the Vulnerability of Being An Artist, or Oh Goodness I Hope I Have Something People Actually Want To Read”