(Photo is of Jonah Winston in “Diaspora.”  Photo provided by the director, Michael Hosp.  See below for more info about the show.)

Well, I have been tweeting fairly regularly (@IndyTheatre) but I am way behind in my blogging!  What can I say?  My fulltime day job and my personal life have demanded most of my attention lately.   I haven’t accepted many media passes this year so far because I knew I wouldn’t have much time in which to write about shows.

However.

I have not stopped seeing live theatre and storytelling and I hope you won’t give up on checking Indy Theatre Habit for Indianapolis-area theatre and storytelling news, reviews, and reflections.  Here is my writing plan for the next few days:

**  Write a review of “Diaspora,” produced by Half/Black Productions, running two more weekends (through Saturday, March 13, 2011) at the Indy Fringe Theatre.  I saw this intense, hip-hop poetry/philosophy theatre piece last weekend and loved it because it made me weep and think.  It is based on the poetry of Saul Williams and directed by Michael Hosp.  It is beautifully performed by Jonah Winston.  I wish I had time to see it again!

**  Write about the three professional storytellers I’ve heard so far this year through Storytelling Arts of Indiana:  Jim May, Kevin Stonerock, and Minton Sparks.  Each was a treat in his or her own way.  I am looking forward to Storytelling Arts’ next “Jabberwocky” event on Tuesday, March 8 and to hearing Antonio Sacre tell on Saturday, March 12, too.

**  Log the who-did-what in Wayne Township Community Theatre’s production of “You’re a Good Man, Charlie Brown,” which I saw at the end of January on the last day of its run.  I couldn’t get to it any sooner, unfortunately, but I wanted to see it for three very specific reasons:  I wanted to thank WTCT as best I could for emailing me press releases on a regular basis; I wanted to do the friend thing (i.e. Be Supportive) of the actor that played Lucy because we share an interest in young adult literature – and she also happens to be a lot of fun to watch and listen to on stage; and I was curious about the set.  More about this in the log post.

**  Log the who-did-what in the Phoenix Theatre’s production of “Goldie, Max and Milk,” which I saw before it closed last month because a) I try to see everything that the Phoenix offers and b) because two of my favorite “destination actors” – Angela Plank and Sara Riemen – were in it.  Angela was luminous, as usual, and Sara, too, gave a wonderfully layered performance.  I enjoyed “meeting” the other actors/characters, too, and the story offered a lot of good stuff to think about related to parenting and more.  I am looking forward to seeing the Phoenix’s next show, “The Storytelling Ability of a Boy,” too.  It opens this Thursday and runs through March 27, 2011.

**  Write about my first experience in the new Studio Theater that joins the Palladium in the group of buildings that form the Center for the Performing Arts in Carmel, Indiana.  Country music singer-songwriter Joanna Smith and friends gave a lunchtime concert last Friday as the first performance in the Center’s Emerging Artists series.  I confess that I had never heard of Joanna Smith before last Friday, but now I am aesthetically smitten.  I loved her songs, loved her music, and loved her stage presence.  I loved getting to see the new, black box Studio Theater space, too.  It is very cool.

**  Share my notes and thoughts from a two-part workshop on Social Media for Artists that was offered at no charge by the Arts Council of Indianapolis at the Indy Fringe Theatre last week.  On the first night, Erik Deckers , co-author of Branding Yourself, talked about using things like blogs and Twitter and so on to promote an artist’s work.  On the second night, Rocky Walls talked about making and using videos to promote an artist’s work.  I got a lot of useful information from each speaker.

Whew! I have my work cut out for me and there are several other shows opening this coming weekend that interest me.  It’s a great life, isn’t it.

‘See you at the theatres!

Hope Baugh – www.IndyTheatreHabit.com and www.twitter.com/IndyTheatre.

As usual with this annual event, there were actually two premieres:  two new 50-minute pieces developed independently for adult audiences by selected Indiana storytellers.  This year’s winners were Jennie Kiffmeyer and Celestine Bloomfield.   I enjoyed both of their pieces very much!  I left the IHC feeling relaxed and optimistic about life.

Below are my thoughts about each performance, followed by news about the next big Storytelling Arts of Indiana event, which is Irish storyteller Niall de Burca’s visit to Indianapolis coming up on December 3-4, 2010.

(All photos below were provided by Storytelling Arts of Indiana.)

“The Rivertown Dispatch,” by Jennie Kiffmeyer

What It Is About

Jennie presents herself as a woman named Mary who is serving as the interim publisher of a local newspaper in a small town on the Ohio River. Mary is running the newspaper while the owner – a relative of hers – is looking for a buyer. 

Mary is better at the job than anyone, including maybe herself, expected.  She finds that she loves the discoveries she makes as she goes about her town, listening to people.  She finds that she is good at this newspaper job, even though she just prints the kinds of items that interest her:  human interest stories, poems, etc…

The bulk of the Jennie’s storytelling piece is a handful of these homey but fully human stories and poems woven together.  A single dad who has lost his factory job but hasn’t told anyone yet bonds with his mall-loving daughter over a walk in the woods in which they discover a forgotten grave (and another story) from Civil War times.  A neighbor has a mother with Alzheimer’s now, but a hidden box of poems brings back flashes of who she once was. 

Mary the narrator reveals secrets about herself, too, but obliquely, through only brief references in passing to things like how long she has been sober.

When her relative sells the newspaper to a media conglomerate and the “newspaper” becomes a rag whose only local news is the police report, Mary sells everything she owns on e-bay and becomes a kind of modern-day troubadour, collecting and sharing people’s stories in places like bus stations and diners.

“And how do these stories end?” Mary/Jennie asks us before she starts telling them.  “I don’t know. Maybe you will take them and finish them.”

At the end, Mary invites us to post our own stories on her website, which is, I think, just part of the fiction, but makes sense in terms of the story arc.

Artistic Considerations

The storytelling purist in me would call this a solo theatre piece rather than a true storytelling piece because the performance artist “becomes” someone else telling a story rather telling a story “as” herself.

However, the part of me that loves all forms of performance art – and storytelling in a larger sense – says, “Oh, Hope, stop quibbling!  You enjoyed this!”

And I did.  Jennie has a very down-to-earth, relaxed, and intimate telling style that is very appealing.  At the same time, her stories include sophisticated bits of poetry and other deliberately beautiful and specific language choices that are also very appealing. 

At one point in “The Rivertown Dispatch,” for example, a box of papers “burst like a glass of water…some of them trickling under the bed.”  I don’t know that I jotted down the exact words, actually, but the image they created in my mind was lovely and vivid.  This is just one of many examples.

Audience and Appeal Factors

Sue Grizzell, the MC, told us that Jennie is a reference librarian at Earlham College and is known for sharing “sacred stories” in that community.  My program says that she has been a professional storyteller for twelve years.  Jennie’s mother, Barbara Kiffmeyer, told me at intermission that both Jennie and her husband have theatre backgrounds as well as academic backgrounds and that Jenny has won prizes for her poetry and other writing.  I think “The Rivertown Dispatch” would appeal to adults who love any of these art forms, not just oral tradition storytelling.

(By the way, I include librarianship as an art form.  Yes, there’s a science to collecting and sharing stories and information, but there’s an art to it, too.)

This piece would also probably appeal to the same kinds of adults as the tourists that are attracted to Rivertown in the story because it seems to them to be “the little town that time forgot.”  The storytelling piece itself makes one feel nostalgic for independent, essential, hometown newspapers that were printed on paper and delivered by boys on bicycles, while also embracing the digital age.

It would also appeal to people who dream of quitting their day job cubicles and living “off the land” as modern-day troubadours.  (The bare-bones traveling life doesn’t appeal to me as much as it once might have, but I still get the appeal.)

There is nothing “x-rated” about “The Rivertown Dispatch” but it does include themes and content that are probably of most interest to adults, so I wouldn’t bring little kids to a sharing of this piece.

This was my first time hearing Jennie Kiffmeyer tell.  I hope to get the chance to hear her tell again some day!

********** 

“Zora and Me,” by Celestine Bloomfield

What It Is About

To begin, Celestine shares a little about what it meant to her to discover Zora Neale Hurston’s stories, and about what it means to all children, of all ages, to find people like themselves in stories. 

After that, Celestine shares some of Zora’s stories that have resonated most strongly with her.  She does not recite them word-for-word, but she does stay true to the author’s plots, character dialogues, descriptive word choices, etc. as she makes them her own for telling.

Celestine told me later that for her Basile program she worked on more Zora stories than she had time to tell at the premiere.  This makes me think that a future sharing of “Zora and Me’ might include a different selection of stories.  In any case, the Zora stories that Celestine told us included: a folktale-like story about Jack, the Devil, and the Devil’s daughter; a story called (I think) “The Gilded Sixpence”; and a story about how men and women used to be equal and always fighting…until Woman found the keys to keeping the upper hand with Man.

Artistic Considerations

Celestine’s rich, warm voice seems to effortlessly fill a performance space and clear everyone’s (or mine, anyway) chakras in a blissful way, especially when she sings a line or two to set the mood and/or signal a transition.  I have heard her tell many times; each time her voice seems to get richer and more expressive, no matter what kind of stories she is telling.

With these particular stories, it was Celestine’s just-right timing that also brought to life their humor as well as their more serious undertones.

Also, Celestine referred to her “issues” during the personal, introductory segment.  That was all she said about them, whatever they are, but there was something about the way she told Zora’s stories that conveyed her personal connection to these literary tales without changing their meaning.  I’m sorry I don’t have a better way to describe it better.  I suspect it has something to do with honesty and courage.

Celestine told me afterwards that she has great respect for Zora Neale Hurston’s command of dialogue and dialect.  This respect definitely shows in Celestine’s fluid telling of these stories.  I was not familiar with the stories ahead of time, but I sensed that respect.   Someone else came up to Celestine and said, “You know me and my love of Zora stories.  You did her proud!”

Audience and Appeal Factors

So…I think this storytelling program would appeal to both fans of Zora Neale Hurston and people who are newcomers to her work. 

It is worth suggesting to fans of literary tales, personal tales, and folk tales.

It is not a program for little kids – again, not because any of it is “x-rated” but because the themes and content are of more interest to adults.

**********

I’ll just also mention that Don Drennen ran lights and sound for the evening.  He adjusted nimbly to sudden changes in the tellers’ volumes.

And from one of Storytelling Arts of Indiana’s publicity pieces:

“Due to the generosity of Frank and Katrina Basile, we have funded the Frank Basile Emerging Stories Fellowship since 2000. This unique fellowship provides an annual financial stipend to two Indiana storytellers to create, develop and premiere a new story for adult audiences.”

Very, very cool.

**********

Here is the media release I promised you about the next big Storytelling Arts event:

One of Ireland’s Finest Traditional Storytellers

to Perform in Indianapolis in December

Storytelling Arts of Indiana Presents Niall de Burca on December 3 and 4

October 1, 2010 (Indianapolis)— Bringing energy and humor to traditional Irish tales, Niall de Burca will perform at two Storytelling Arts of Indiana events in December. The events will be on December 3 and 4 at the Frank and Katrina Basile Theater in the Eugene and Marilyn Glick Indiana History Center. This will be De Burca’s first time back to Central Indiana since he performed in 2003.

A dynamic performer, Niall de Burca is recognized for the diversity in his stories and ability to reach audiences of all ages. He combines tremendous energy and humor with audience participation to tell the Irish tales. De Burca was raised in the wild west of Ireland – a region steeped in Celtic myth and legend. A tradition bearer at ease telling in both Gaelic and English, De Burca is a familiar figure in Ireland telling in theatre, radio and television. Using his voice with a craftsman skill, De Burca tells the old stories with wonderful charm and superb timing. He has toured the world performing in Finland, Italy, Germany, Denmark, Iran, the Czech Republic, Hungary and Argentina.

Fred and Midge Munds present a Weekend with Niall de Burca with two events:

Tales for the Telling with Niall de Burca
Sponsored by Barnes & Thornburg

Friday, December 3
7 – 8 p.m.

Frank and Katrina Basile Theater, Eugene and Marilyn Glick Indiana History Center

450 W. Ohio St., Indianapolis

Tickets – $5 for children ages 5 – 12, $10 for Adults

Ancestor Tales: The Old Stories of Ireland
Sponsored by Indy’s Irish Fest and Beth Millett
Saturday, December 4
7:30 – 9:30 p.m.

Frank and Katrina Basile Theater, Eugene and Marilyn Glick Indiana History Center

450 W. Ohio St., Indianapolis

Tickets are $20 in advance; $25 at the door

To order tickets or for more information, please call (317) 576-9848 or visit www.storytellingarts.org.

 ###

 Storytelling Arts of Indiana is one of the premier storytelling organizations in the country. Originally founded as Stories, Inc., in 1988, this unique non-profit presents a year-round schedule of diverse concerts and programs centered on the art of storytelling. Programming ranges from storytelling concerts for adults, a family series, performances for students, the As I Recall Storytelling Guild, summertime Stories in the Park for latch-key children, storytelling for patients at Riley Children’s Hospital, to numerous workshops, programs and community activities. As one of only a very few storytelling organizations in the country to present a year-round schedule, Storytelling Arts of Indiana has made Indianapolis a location of choice on the national storytelling scene.

********** 

I have never heard Niall (sounds like Neal or Neil, I think) tell before, but I love Irish stories and Irish accents, and I trust Storytelling Arts director Ellen Munds’ artistic judgment, so I hope I can get to at least one of Niall’s storytelling concerts while he is in Indianapolis.

‘See you at the theatres!

Hope Baugh – www.IndyTheatreHabit.com

Late on Saturday afternoon, October 9, 2010, I wrenched a leg muscle as I was leaving my day job.  Oh, man, did it hurt!  The last thing I felt like doing was going to a show.

However, that Saturday night was Storytelling Arts of Indiana’s second annual ghost story event for adults on the canal patio outside at the Eugene and Marilyn Glick Indiana History Center in downtown Indianapolis.  No way was I missing it, so I hobbled on down.  I arrived just as the evening’s Master of Ceremonies, storyteller Cynthia Changeris, was welcoming everyone.

There were, I think, more than one hundred people in the audience this year, probably because the weather was much more comfortable than last year.  The people filled all of the rows of chairs and spilled over into the umbrella tables at the side.  Some people had brought their own chairs.

I was mad at myself for being late, and in too much pain to look for an empty seat, so I just asked Storytelling Arts director Ellen Munds if I could sit with her and our friend Mark behind the candy and popcorn table.  She said I could. It felt good to sit down!

But you know what?  As soon as I let myself settle in to my environment – which included the close smell of the popcorn, the slightly more distant sounds of sirens and carriage horses and canal walkers, the layers of visual light from the purple and orange twinkle bulbs in the IHC’s trees to the office windows in the tall buildings nearby and, beyond them, very faint, the stars in the sky – as soon as I adjusted to all of that sensory input on top of my physical pain and focused on the stories being shared from the little stage within the IHC’s iron fence, I also felt very glad to be there.  Normally, having all of those distractions would drive me crazy, but the IHC’s canal patio is somehow a magical place where ordinary distractions don’t matter.

Part of the magic comes from good theatre lights positioned well on poles near the little stage, and a good sound system, AND a good person managing it all.  Don Drennen was the stage manager that night.  Icing was that he gave me a hug on his way around to check the sound quality from different points of the “house.”

The event was again called “Disquieting, Disturbing, and Dreadful Tales.”  Most of the tellers were the same as last year but told different stories.  One of last year’s tellers, Cynthia Changeris, was this year’s MC, as I mentioned earlier.  She had driven up from her home in Bethlehem, Indiana to be here.

The opening teller, Sandra Harris from Indianapolis, had just won the first (and I hope annual) Jabberwocky Ghost Story Contest, sponsored by Storytelling Arts of Indiana in cooperation with the Indy Fringe Theatre.  Sandra told her winning story again for the crowd at “Disquieting…Tales.”  It was a hilarious piece about a man named Aaron Kelly who refused to believe he was dead, even though his wife and her new beau repeatedly told him so.  Sandra’s relaxed, warm-yet-deadpan telling style and yummy southern accent (I think Sandra is originally from Alabama) gave this story an appealingly homespun quality.  The story itself was peppered with delightfully specific language:  phrases such as “like a bat out of Birmingham” and “they tumped the bones back into the coffin.”

Another teller, Sally Perkins, was completely new to me because unfortunately I missed the Frank Basile Emerging Stories event last year.  (More about the 2010 event in a moment.)  I can’t even tell you where in Indiana she lives.   I can tell you that her timing at “Disquieting…Tales” was impeccable.  I laughed out loud at the shivers literally running up my backbone from the suspense she built as she shared a psychological thriller about a certain piece of evidence that belonged to the condemned man in a London murder trial.  “It’s hard to say where in the mind fear begins,” Sally told us, “especially when (the source) isn’t visible like a bear or a fire.”   Sally’s telling style is elegant, even sweet, but when the main character in the story went from “nervousness to…fear to…terror to…pure horror…” Sally had me right there with him.

The other three tellers – Bob Sander, LouAnn Homan, and Celestine Bloomfield – had all been featured last year, too.  I very much enjoyed hearing a few more stories from their repertories. 

Bob Sander told his own extended, funny-creepy version of “The Ghostly Hitchhiker,” firmly and specifically (and therefore very believably) rooted in his 1970s college days travelling to and from Indiana University in Bloomington, Indiana to his mom’s home in Beech Grove, Indiana along “Killer Highway 37.”

LouAnn Homan, from northern Indiana, shared a couple of stories.   One was quite chilling, based on a newspaper clipping about a new person in a small town and his tragic contribution to the volunteer fire department’s annual spookhouse fundraiser.  It was chilling not because of the plot but because of the details.   The other story was a powerful, theatrical rendition of the classic Edgar Allan Poe story, “The Tell-Tale Heart.”  LouAnn incorporated recorded heartbeats very effectively at the end with Don Drennen’s help.

Celestine Bloomfield, a teller from “da region” around Gary, Indiana, but who is now based here in Indianapolis, wove several disquieting bits and pieces from her own family history across several states into a tapestry that included the darkness of demonic possession but which also sparkled with the gold of Celestine’s singing.  She only sang a few lines, more as transition to the second story than as a full song, but the gorgeousness of it took my breath away.  I don’t think I had ever heard Celestine sing before.  I hope I get to hear her sing again, and often!  Her second story was “The Conjurer’s Revenge,” a literary tale about a club-foot slave, but I didn’t catch the author’s name.

Cynthia Changeris is always a joyful, healing presence, whether as MC or featured teller.  Simultaneous translation of the stories into American Sign Language was provided on stage by another beloved performer: Joyce Ellinger.

Frank Basile Emerging Stories Fellowship

Each of the tellers at “Disquieting…Tales” has been a recipient of a wonderful, wonderful story development grant that is funded annually by Frank Basile through Storytelling Arts of Indiana to encourage the development of new, long (45 minute) storytelling pieces for adult audiences by Indiana storytellers.  Sally Perkins wrote about her Frank Basile Emerging Stories experience last year for the Storytelling Arts of Indiana blog (read it here), but I bet every single one of the recipients over the years would tell you that they were equally grateful.  I am one of them!  I received the Basile in 2006 along with Bob and Kathi Myers. 

I would never have developed and performed my 45-minute “Hoosier in Tokyo” piece if it weren’t for the Basile grant.  That experience, in turn, led to Storytelling Arts of Indiana and the Indiana Historical Society commissioning me to develop and perform a 90-minute “Of the People: Stories and Images of Abraham Lincoln” piece.  It premiered last year.  I have been taking a little break from telling this year and who knows what the future will bring, but I will always treasure those two story development opportunities and count them among the most important experiences in my life.

This year’s Basile winners are Celestine Bloomfield and Jennie Kiffmeyer.    They will premiere their new pieces on Saturday, November 6, 2010 from 7:30-9:30 at the Eugene and Marilyn Glick Indiana History Center.  I don’t know anything about Jennie Kiffmeyer, but that is part of the fun of going to a premiere: being introduced to a new performance artist!  The other part of the fun is seeing a new piece by a teller whose work I already know and love.  I.e.,  Celestine Bloomfield!

Here is a little more about this year’s winning storytellers and their new pieces from the Storytelling Arts of Indiana website:

Jennie Kiffmeyer will tell The Rivertown Dispatch, a series of interconnected stories set on the banks of the Ohio. Through her stories, we’ll meet such residents as a single dad and his daughter who discover a Civil War tombstone, a young jazz singer trying to make a go of it at her family’s winery, and a third-grade teacher who reaches out to a troubled former student – all ordinary people with extraordinary stories to tell. Sponsored by Ted Parkhurst.

Celestine Bloomfield has always been a fan of the folkorist and author Zora Neal Hurston, who is well known for her book Their Eyes Were Watching God. In Zora and Me, Celestine will share a few of the lesser known short stories and folkore of Zora Neal Hurston. Sponsored by Beatrice Cork and Leslie Williams.

Buy tickets online through www.storytellingarts.org or by calling 317-232-1882.  They are $10 in advance or $12 at the door.

The Frank Basile Emerging Stories Premiere is the first event in Storytelling Arts of Indiana’s 2010-2011 season.  The next event will be “Ancestor Tales: The Old Stories of Ireland” told by Niall de Burca from 7:30-9:30pm on Saturday, December 4, 2010.  I don’t know anything about that teller, either, except that he is coming here from Ireland, but I trust the artistic judgment of Storytelling Arts of Indiana director Ellen Munds completely, so I’m looking forward to this event as well.  Here is a photo of Niall de Burca:

All storyteller photos in this post were given to me by Ellen Munds of Storytelling Arts of Indiana.  The photo at the top is called just “7.”  It is part of an Indianapolis ”Canal” series taken by shrff14 (Nick) and made available through the Creative Commons area of Flickr.com. 

‘See you at the theatres!

Hope Baugh – www.IndyTheatreHabit.com and www.twitter.com/IndyTheatre

This past weekend was the National Storytelling Festival in Jonesborough, Tennessee.  Performance storytelling lovers from all over the country – and even from other countries – gather to swap tales at this annual festival.  I’m talking thousands of people, sitting on folding wooden chairs crammed under huge tents, listening to individuals on raised platforms “just” talking into microphones…and being transformed.

There are now several big storytelling festivals around the country, but the one in Jonesborough is “Mecca.”  You want to hear the best tellers?  Go to Jonesborough.

I haven’t been able to get down to Jonesborough for several years, so I am doubly glad that Storytelling Arts of Indiana continues to bring some of those top tellers here to Indianapolis.

Two of those top tellers are Donald Davis and Carmen Agra Deedy.  (That’s Donald in the photo above.  I’m sorry; I don’t have a photo of Carmen.)

They were both in town a couple weekends ago.  They presented two programs for adult listeners and one for families.  My friend Dawn and I drove down to the Indiana History Center on Saturday, September 25, 2010 to hear one of the presentations for adults, called “The People That We Love.”

Carmen told an original, autobiographical story about getting in trouble with her elementary school principal.  I had never heard Carmen tell before.  She’s wonderful!  What struck me most about her telling was her rich, joyful use of specific language.   That, and her ability to effortlessly (it seemed) produce different accents, flowing back and forth seamlessly between her portrayals of the characters in her stories.

The thing I loved most about her story itself was her saying that you never really know when a personal story ends.  Her warm, funny story about her principal could have ended when Carmen left elementary school, but it didn’t.

I should mention, too, that even though Carmen’s story was autobiographical, it wasn’t just about her, or even about her principal.  It was crafted in such a way as to be respectful to all involved and to have many openings for listeners to enter the story in their own ways.  In other words, it was not like listening to a therapy session or a lecture or a sermon.

Donald, too, told a story that kept going after the first “ending.”  It was about an uncle who encouraged Donald’s adolescent love of chemistry sets and scientific inquiry.  Hah!  I am laughing out loud again, remembering some of the “scientific” experiments Donald performed as a boy in that story.

I have heard Donald tell many times and he almost always tells original, autobiographical stories.  They are always hilarious and poignant, and they are not meant to be told by anyone else but Donald but, like Carmen’s stories, they are respectful of the people involved and of his listeners.

Donald and Carmen are both masters at timing and at being present with their audiences.  It really was a special treat to hear them tell.

Oral tradition storytelling is not quite the same as theatre, but there is a lot of overlap in the two forms of performance art.  I love both!  Storytelling Arts of Indiana has a whole slew of exciting storytelling events planned for this season, with a variety of telling styles and a variety of stories.  Most will take place at the Indiana History Center but a few will take place at the Indy Fringe Theatre or other venues.   For more information, please see www.storytellingarts.org.

‘See you at the theatres!

Hope Baugh – www.IndyTheatreHabit.com and www.twitter.com/IndyTheatre

Update 10/5/10 – I love what Nuvo arts blogger Chi Sherman wrote about these two storytellers:

About Carmen’s telling…

About Donald’s telling…

H.B.

I had a wonderful, wonderful first day of shows at the 2010 Indianapolis Fringe Theatre Festival yesterday.  I met some lovely new people (including Australian comedian Lou Sanz – see the little informal video we made after her first show, above) and reconnected with some dear friends.

And…I saw four satisfying shows!

“Andrea Merlyn’s Book of Secrets” – Theatre on the Square (TOTS).

The Act – Local transgender magician Taylor Martin performs as Andrea Merlyn sharing stories from her 50+ years of performing all over the country, meeting all kinds of people.  She incorporates magic tricks with props – including the Book of Secrets itself – plus clips of recorded music, a few costume changes, a bit of lip-synching, a mouthful of bubbles, and more into her stories, assisted by Taylor Martin’s wife and two other stage hands.

The Art – The stories from Andrea’s life fit neatly into the overall story arc of 1) being at a magic show, 2) getting to go back stage to chat intimately with the magician at intermission, and then 3) going back out with her to enjoy the second act of the show.  A repeated reference to the singing Chipmunks ties the beginning of the piece to the end of the piece in a very satisfying way.  The show is neatly staged and tightly put together – neither rushed nor padded.  The patter made me smile and sometimes laugh out loud.  I was sitting near the light booth and even heard the tech guys chuckling from time to time.  Some of the magic tricks are performed competently but transparently: you can guess how they work, so you just enjoy sharing Andrea’s delight in presenting them.  However, the sleight-of-hand in the bubble trick is seamless, and a trick towards the end that incorporates an unknown audience member is “hey, how’d she do that?!” amazing. 

The Appeal – There is a schmaltzy, homemade, bravely-adult-but-still-joyful quality to Andrea’s work that is very appealing.  She has been through a lot and she pretends to be jaded, but she’s not.  She obviously loves everything about magic – from collecting antique magic props to sharing her vast knowledge of magic history – and she obviously loves working with live audiences.  You definitely feel seen, heard, and acknowledged when you are in her audience.  There is at least one other 2010 IndyFringe act that incorporates cross-dressing, and there is at least one other that incorporates magic, but I guarantee you that none of the other acts are quite like Andrea’s.  Taylor Martin’s magic show, starring either Andrea Merlyn or one of Taylor’s other personifications, is also one of only two acts that have been part of the 6-year-old Indy Fringe Festival from the beginning.  (Andrea shares the honor with Phil the Void.)   If you have never seen one of Taylor Martin’s shows, you have not truly Fringed in Indianapolis.  If you have seen Taylor’s work before, don’t worry:  the 2010 show includes a lot of new material plus a trick from Andrea’s “greatest hits” collection.

The Audience – This is an “adults only” show only because a parent might have to answer some awkward questions from a child about why that man is wearing make-up and a dress, and because children might not be interested in all of the stories.  Also, Andrea uses the “s” word once.

“Please Don’t Use My Flannel for That: A Memoir” – Phoenix Theatre, sponsored by Storytelling Arts of Indiana.

The Act – Australian writer/stand-up comedian Lou Sanz gives “a reading” from her memoir-in-progress.  The chapter she shares is about her selling a screenplay as a 19-year-old (I think) and coming to Hollywood from Melbourne to fulfill her dreams.  She has the most outrageously bad luck when she gets to the United States – everything from falling in with a racist pimp she calls The Cowboy to falling in “love” with a heroin user/dish washer that she meets at Denny’s.

The Art – Lou speaks from beside or behind a music stand that holds her writing, but this show is so much more a crafted and polished performance piece than a mere reading.  For one thing, if Lou hasn’t memorized the whole thing I’d be surprised, she is that comfortable walking away from the stand and interacting with her audience.  Also, subtle but effective lighting choices, subtle incorporation of props such as eyeglasses and balled up pieces of paper, even Lou’s choice of what to wear (leopard print top over cute black shorts plus glittery purple eyeliner and red, red lipstick at the performance I saw) add layers of artistic polish to the show as well.  Her word choices and her story-shaping make for brilliant writing.  Her deadpan delivery and deliciously impeccable comic timing make for brilliant performance art.  I wish I could hear and see the next chapter in her memoir as well!

The Appeal – Beyond the basic appeal of excellence in literary and performance art, if you like your IndyFringe experience to have an international flavor, this show is filled with fascinating cross-cultural references.  Plus, there is the delight of Lou’s Australian accent. 

The Audience – I heard both men and women roaring with laughter at this show.  This show is definitely only for adults, and only for adults who are not easily offended by shocking language and content.  This show’s humor is sophisticated but it does include references to things like finger raping and dick-kicking, never mind the occasional “f” word.

“Deep in Love/For Adults Only” – Phoenix Theatre, sponsored by Storytelling Arts of Indiana

The Act – Local (I think) musician Vincent Howard plays some sprightly jazz compositions on a portable electric piano before MC Jacques Carry warms up the audience further with a short, funny joke about love.  Then storyteller Deborah Asante shares a story or two from her repertory of adult love stories.  The selection at each of her 2010 IndyFringe performances will be unique.  On the night I was there, she told a longish story that had come to her “in a dream.”  It was about an African-American woman in 1948 who farmed and made a little extra money by providing room and board to “colored travelers” that couldn’t stay in whites-only hotels.  One of her guests was a man that became both lover and threat.  Deborah also told a shorter story about a woman and her frog pet.  Deborah said that she had shared that story before at a Fringe Friday event, but I had never heard it before.  Even if I had, though, I like hearing stories more than once to see what I get from them on repeated listening. 

The Art – Every performance artist is a storyteller of a sort, but when I use the word “storyteller” I usually mean someone who shares stories aloud in the oral tradition – i.e., tells the stories rather than memorizes them word for word or reads them aloud – in a well-crafted way, and who tells them as herself rather than pretending to be someone else.  There is no “fourth wall” between a storyteller and the audience.  Deborah is a master at this art form.  She quickly develops excellent rapport with her audiences; her pacing is comfortable, effective, and sometimes even trance-inducing; and her delivery, for the most part, is beautifully economical: no unnecessary “he saids” and “she saids,” for example.  At the performance I saw, there was one moment in the first story when Deborah struggled and struggled over how to convey the intimacy and animosity inherent in the two lovers’ breathing into each other’s mouths.  The struggle surprised me because it was so out-of-character for Deborah’s usually seamless work.  However, ultimately she did find the words to make us understand, and the struggle ultimately enhanced the portrayal of the characters’ struggle, so maybe it had been a conscious artistic choice all along.  At the performance I saw, Deborah wore a stunning white dress embellished with sparkly white appliqué’s.  She was not in costume, but she was dressed up, which made me feel that she respected the storytelling trinity: the stories, the storyteller, and the story listeners.

The Appeal – Deborah Asante’s storytelling style is warm, frank, and compassionately humorous.   I have heard her tell many times before over the years but it has usually been stories for children and/or family audiences.  It is a rare treat to get to hear some of her adults-only stories.  Vincent Howard’s music is icing.  He will be at all of Deborah’s 2010 IndyFringe shows except for the last one.  At her final show next Sunday, Deborah will share her stage with a “blues woman” whose name I didn’t catch.  More icing is that if you fill out a form at the end of the show, you get a copy of a romantic suspense novel written by one of Deborah’s friends, Crystal Rhodes.  It is called Sweet Sacrifice.

The Audience – The content of this show, at least the night I saw it, is earthy and definitely for adults only, but it is not x-rated.  It uses sexual innuendo and words like “orgasm” but not the “f” word (that I remember.)

“Phil the Void: Spontaneous Dumbustion” – ComedySportz.

The Act – L.A.-based stand-up comedian Phil Van Hest has brought another of his world premieres to Indianapolis this year.  The new material is a richly layered, pee-your-pants-funny story based on a specific and sincere spiritual awakening that Phil had recently.

The Art – At the performance I saw of this solo artist’s show, two very distinct forms of artistry were going on. 

On one level was Phil the performance artist working his gifts of language mastery, cerebral surprises, comic timing, physicality, and story making. 

On another level was Phil the compassionate and perhaps reluctant healer-artist (for lack of a better word) doing what he had been called to do in terms of energy management by the universal boss in that particular moment. 

A woman I sometimes (meanly, I admit) call the Honker was in the front row, laughing her signature laugh inappropriately loudly, long, and often.  Other people in the audience who don’t know that she is an institution in the Indianapolis theatre community were grumbling loudly about her distracting behavior, thinking they could influence it.  I have been one of those grumblers in the past.  I sympathized with both my fellow audience members and with Phil.

But I could see also see the Honker’s face and she was obliviously locked on to Phil, looking at him with such love and need that her laughs were like orgasms. 

I know from love and neediness, too, so I just watched her and Phil while still listening to, and enjoying, Phil’s surface show.

In the meantime, a man in the other side of the front row started texting someone about the Honker.  (I was sitting behind him.) 

Phil mostly stood in front of The Honker and, again for lack of a better word, was a channel for whatever divine energy was trying to feed her.  He delivered the show that he had come to deliver, and it was excellent, and he even managed to connect with the rest of his fans in the audience, but he also stayed fully present and judgment-free for that particular woman while she got what she needed.  Only when Texting Guy took out his phone and started thumbing it did Phil react.

“Are you texting her?” Phil asked the man, pointing to the man’s date.  “Because that’s less rude than whispering to her, right?”  Everyone laughed.  I was surprised at first that Phil would let the Honker’s rudeness go unaddressed but call out Texting Guy.

A little later in his monologue, Phil referred to cell phone usage causing brain damage.  He paused and looked over at Texting Guy, who was still thumbing the phone in his lap.  More laughs from everyone.

Phil came out of his story even more then to say, “At least he’s holding it down here…” Phil cupped his hands around his crotch, then grinned at Texting Guy and stage-whispered “Sorry! Sorry!” before saying aloud to the audience “…Where it won’t do any damage.” 

More laughs from everyone, including Texting Guy.  At the end of the show, I saw Texting Guy tell his girlfriend to wait a minute so that he could go up and shake Phil’s hand.

And only at the very end of the show did Phil acknowledge the Honker with words.  He said to everyone, “I have CD’s of last year’s show for sale.”  He looked at the Honker and said, “You’re on it.”  He laughed a little and added something like, “I sometimes wonder if you’re going to burst.  You remind me of a whistling tea kettle.”*  She just smiled at him, relaxed and satisfied.

Now would I prefer to see any show without the distractions of the Honker?  Yes.  But I can’t help thinking, also, that I have been her.  And Phil’s energy management artistry reminded me that many people have been compassionate with my neediness, too.

His artistry last night also reminded me of a conversation that he and I and a previous IndyFringe artist named Brent McCoy (aka Clown at Work) had on the back porch of the Chatham Tap last year.

“The audience is a beast that is on my side,” Brent said.  “If I treat it right, I can tame it.”

The audience was on Phil’s side last night, and they would have torn the Honker to pieces if Phil had let them.  Instead, he managed the energy in the room so that there was no blood shed and everyone went away with something good.

That, my friends, is artistry.

The Appeal – As I mentioned earlier, Phil shares with Taylor Martin the honor of being the only two performers that have been part of the 6-year-old Indy Fringe Festival every year from the beginning.  I don’t know if Phil-as-Healer/Channel will be part of every performance – he is, after all, just this regular guy from L.A. at the end of the day – but “just” his advertised stand-up comedy show is treat enough that it will be selling out by the end of the festival.

The Audience – Phil’s work is definitely for adults only, and only for adults that are not offended by politician-bashing, homophobe-bashing, sexual explicitness, the “f” word, the “p” word, the “a” word, and so on.  But beyond that, Phil’s work appeals to both men and women, to adults of all generations, and to comedy-lovers, story-lovers, shock-lovers, and philosophy-lovers.

The Indy Fringe Festival continues at six venues on or near Massachusetts Avenue in downtown Indianapolis, Indiana (USA) through Sunday, August 29, 2010.  For a schedule and more information about the shows, please see www.IndyFringe.org.

‘See you at the theatres!

Hope Baugh – www.IndyTheatreHabit.com and www.twitter.com/IndyTheatre.

*Phil mentioned in the comment box for this post that for the record, what he actually said was, “You remind me of a teakettle in distress.”  I promised I would revise my “record” accordingly and have hereby done so, laughing again.  HB

On Saturday, May 1, 2010, I drove to the Indiana History Center in downtown Indianapolis to hear professional storyteller Olga Loya present “Nepantla: Between Worlds.” 

This event was produced by Storytelling Arts of Indiana and the Indiana Historical Society as part of the Printing Partners Storytellers Theater series.

I had been looking forward to this event ever since Olga mentioned her “Nepantla” piece at the 2008 Going Deep: Long Traditional Stories Festival.   It was, as I had expected: enjoyable, uplifting and thought-provoking.

Nepantla: Between Latino and Anglo Cultures

Olga is a bilingual storyteller.  She smoothly switches back and forth between Spanish and English in a way that feels as if you’re tuning back and forth between radio channels.  If you know Spanish, you laugh first.  If you don’t know Spanish, you laugh a moment later but in the meantime the beautiful, incomprehensible sounds wash over you in a pleasing way.

Not that everything in this program is funny.  In the first part of the evening, Olga shares experiences from her childhood in the barrio of East Los Angeles, California.  The stories within this larger story include a funny folktale that her grandmother used to tell her, by request, over and over again…but also a few more painful, and even “just” plain interesting, experiences along Olga’s journey to find a comfortable label for herself.  She incorporates various personal, family, and public history stories as she tells the arc story of going from MEXICAN-American to Mexican-AMERICAN to Chicana to Latina.

Nepantlas from the Audience

Just before the intermission, Olga reads aloud her list of “nepantlas” that she has been collecting from her audiences around the United States.  The list is very long, and I didn’t think that we, her Indianapolis audience, would have anything to add, but people did raise their hands when Olga asked, “What is an example of a nepantla, a way of being between worlds, in your own life?”

“Daughter/caregiver” someone said.  “Working for someone else/being my own boss,” said someone else.  “The technology shift from TV and paper to digital…” “Western medicine/eastern medicine…”  “Having hair to being bald!” 

Everyone laughed at that last one.  Then Olga said, “Now find a partner and tell your partner about a nepantla in your life.”

I scooted over to talk with Alice, a teacher that often volunteers her free time to help with Storytelling Arts events.  I won’t tell you what Alice shared with me because I didn’t ask her permission first, but I can tell you that the first nepantla that came to my mind was: my rewarding day job/my rewarding theatre blogging job.

Nepantla: From Rage to Forgiveness

After the intermission, Olga shared a monologue that she had written.  She performed it not as herself but as the character of the narrator, Maria Chavez, a woman whose only son was murdered by a fellow gang member, also a very young teenager.  The story is called “I Will Kill You!” because that is what Maria says to the murderer as she passes him in the courtroom after he receives only a light sentence because of his youth.

Over time, though, Maria visits the boy in prison and tries to understand what happened.  She learns that he is from a very rough background and has no one to take him in when his year in prison is up.  After a lot of soul-searching, she invites him to live with her.  He is understandably reluctant after what she said to him in the courtroom, but he has gotten to know her a little since then, and she reassures him that it will be all right.  And he simply has no where else to go, so he accepts.  She raises him as her own.

At the end of the story, Maria asks the now older and healthier, happier, more mature boy if he remembers what she said to him in the courtroom.  He says he does.  She says, “I did kill the boy who killed my son.  You are no longer that boy.” 

Oh, my, it is a moving story!  Olga tells it in a completely believable way.

Olga told us afterwards that it is based on a true story and that her monologue had its genesis in a newspaper article, a dream, and a TV show.  Olga read in the newspaper about a woman who had taken into her home the young gang member that had killed her only son.  Olga thought at the time that it would make a good storytelling piece, but she didn’t do anything with it.  A little later, Olga dreamed of the words “I will kill you!” on a movie marquee.  And a little while after that, there was a woman on Oprah’s television show (I don’t remember if it was the same woman from the newspaper article) whose son had been killed by a gang member and who was talking about her path to forgiveness.

Olga took all of these inputs to her writing group and over time worked them into a written story, which she then developed into the powerful performance piece that we got to hear.

Nepantla: Between Oral Tradition Storytelling and Theatre

The house lights were fairly low, so from the beginning the evening felt more like a theatrical event to me than a storytelling event, but I enjoy both, so I didn’t mind.  I think the lines between platform storytelling shows and solo theatre shows often blur, anyway.  Many performance artists live in nepantlas of form.

What makes or breaks a professional storytelling event for me beyond the storyteller’s crafting ability is her (or his) here-and-now, intimate connection to her audience.   In the first half of the evening, Olga engaged her audience directly and effectively as herself (no theatrical fourth wall.)  In the second half of the evening, even though she was performing a first-person monologue as a character named Maria Chavez, the fourth wall was still down, and Olga’s connection to us in the audience was still warmly and fully made.

Other examples of nepantlas of form:  In the storytelling segment, Olga incorporated bits of recorded music into her telling along with various casual dance steps.  (Sound and lights run by IHC employee Don Drennen.)  In the theatre monologue segment, Olga incorporated eye contact and an approach to sentence patterns that directly engaged the audience.  (An example might be “Do you know what I mean?” although I don’t remember for sure if Olga used that exact pattern.)

Olga didn’t wear a costume, but she was dressed up in what I interpreted as a sign of respect for her audience and her art form.  She wore a dressy black pants-and-top outfit under a gorgeous, cut-velvet, ruby-red shawl at first.  During intermission she replaced the heavy shawl with a lighter, filmier red overblouse.  Large, gold, hoop earrings flashed from her ears.

Box Office

“Nepantla: Between Two Worlds” by Olga Loya was a one-night only event.  Bob Sander was the MC.  Signing for the hearing impaired was provided on stage by Joyce Ettinger.

This was the last program in the 2009-2010 season of the Printing Partners Storyellers Theater co-produced by Storytelling Arts of Indiana and the Indiana Historical Society.  I don’t think the 2010-2011 season has been announced yet.  However, the door prize at the Olga Loya event was a pair of tickets to next season’s first program: a storytelling concert by Donald Davis and Carmen Deedy that will take place some time in the fall.  I have heard that Carmen Deedy is an amazing storyteller, but she has twice stood me up (me and the rest of the audience) and I have yet to hear her tell, so I’ll believe that part of the billing when I see her actually standing on our stage.

However, I could listen to “just” Donald Davis for weeks and weeks and he is as reliable as the sun, so I am looking forward to that no matter what.

‘See you at the theatres!

Hope Baugh – www.IndyTheatreHabit.com

Follow @IndyTheatre on Twitter.com, too!

On Saturday, March 13, 2010, I drove downtown to the Indiana History Center to see bilingual storyteller Peter Cook in “A Feast for the Eyes.”  This event was presented by Storytelling Arts of Indiana and the Indiana Historical Society.

This was my third or fourth time hearing/seeing Peter share stories here in Indianapolis.  He is based in Chicago, but he has shared his performance art all over the world and has been a featured teller at the National Storytelling Festival in Jonesborough, Tennessee.

I love his work.

Multi-Disciplinary

Peter is a professional actor and poet as well as a professional storyteller, so his telling style is wonderfully physical and full-bodied (yes, like a good wine.)  He has impeccable narrative timing and he brings a delicious bounty of specific images to the content of his stories.  He uses his excellent improv skills to fully engage the audience. 

He also brings (for lack of a better term) “high-level communication skills” to his storytelling programs. These, for me, are a little bit different than either performance skills or language mastery. 

I mean, all good storytellers are good, at least partly, because they are able to “say yes” to whatever moment they’re in and because they love words and respect their power.  All good storytellers also build community through the shared experience of their telling.

All good bilingual tellers do this, too, plus build bridges between communities.  Peter does all of the above and more.  He gently and humorously nudges people into moving past the boundaries of the communities that they live in every day and into feeling more comfortable with, and hopeful about, the diversity of the larger world.  But he ALSO nudges people (me, anyway) into realizing that just because they are very comfortable with their preferred method of communicating (i.e., spoken and written English words) does not mean they could not also be good at, or at least competent with, other methods (e.g., nonverbal visual images.)

Peter has been Deaf his whole life.  He was raised to be oral in English and now is fluent in American Sign Language (ASL) as well.  (ASL is different from signed English.  It is a unique language, with its own sentence structure as well as its own vocabulary.)  I think that the combination of this experience plus his training in, and dedication to, various aspects of performance art, plus “just” who he is as a person, is what makes his storytelling concerts such a treat.

How He Works – Signing, Voicing…

Whenever I have seen Peter perform, he has brought a specially trained, bilingual, hearing person with him.  Peter is alone on stage, but his colleague sits in the front row, facing him and holding a microphone.  She (or he) voices what Peter is signing, if necessary.  She also signs to him the spoken English responses of hearing audience members whenever Peter asks them a question.  The signing-impaired (hearing) members of the audience don’t always need voice interpretation, but sometimes it enhances Peter’s movements, gestures, signs, and facial expressions.  He doesn’t always need to look at the signing, but it’s there if he wants to refer to it.  Deaf members of the audience, of course, just watch Peter and sign their responses to them.  The house lights are up, which is best for any kind of live storytelling.

All of the other times I have seen Peter perform, his colleague was Candace Hart.  She was there in the front row this most recent time, too, but I think she was serving as an assistant coach for two interpreters-in-training.  Peter teaches ASL interpreters at Columbia College when he is not on the road performing.

I’m just guessing, though, about the two interpreters at this show.  In any case, both were excellent from my point of view (or ear, or whatever.)  Brittany Foster was the signer and Kat Katona was the voicer.  Brittany also stood on the stage at the beginning of the show and signed to the Deaf members of the audience what the Storytelling Arts of Indiana representative, Bob Sander, was speaking as he introduced Peter.

I guess I can’t truly assess the effectiveness of Brittany’s interpretation because I don’t know ASL.  You’d have to ask some of the many Deaf people that were in the audience that night.  However, I trusted Kat Katona because her voicing sounded authentic, not memorized.  I am sure that she had practiced with Peter many times before the show and knew the stories he would be telling, so her voicing sounded fluid and confident and expressive, but it also sounded as if she were watching Peter in the moment and translating that, not reciting from a plan or putting her own spin on things.  If he changed his mind about a sign, she changed the word or phrase she had started to voice.

She also knew when to shut up and let us hearing people have the pleasure of understanding Peter directly.  I don’t know if that came from rehearsal or from being able to recognize which parts of his presentation were official ASL signs and which parts were artistic amplifications, but in any case, I loved that Kat knew when to get out of the way aurally.

…Miming and Improv

The fact that much of the show is not voiced is part of what makes it so empowering to everyone present.   On Saturday night, Peter began by tossing a small, imaginary ball to someone in the audience.  That person threw it back, and Peter threw it to someone else.  He moved up into the audience in the raked (not flat) house of the Frank and Katrina Basile Theatre space and interacted with people very directly and humorously until whole clumps of people were tossing a very large, imaginary ball to other clumps of people.

It was delightfully energizing.  When Peter invited everyone to move down closer to the stage, most people did.  Who wouldn’t want to be closer to this warm, funny, communicative man?

In the second half of the show, after intermission, Peter asked for three volunteers to help him “make a movie.”  My hand shot up and yay!  He picked me!  He also picked Beth Millet, who is on the Storytelling Arts of Indiana Endowment Board and serves as webmaster for Storytelling Arts.  He also picked a man whose name I did not catch. (‘Sorry!)

Peter led the three of us in a pantomimed baseball game that became more and more hilarious as the “movie” sped up.  Oh, my goodness, it was so much fun to be even a temporary member of Peter’s mime troupe.

At another point he asked for a “hand shape” from the audience.  Someone held up their hand pointed like a gun.  Peter then asked for some people and places.  People gave him “Batman” and “the Indy 500.”  He improvised a funny story using those three elements.  We played this improv game more than once and each improvised story was a hoot to watch.

The Storytelling

My favorite part of the well-planned and well-seasoned evening, though, was the collection of fully-crafted narratives that Peter shared.

Let me first say another word or two about how he set things up:

Peter dressed all in black, with his long hair pulled back into a ponytail.  He told us that his “name sign” is a gesture made behind one’s head, as if gently pulling a ponytail. 

He joked early on about the traffic he experienced coming south from Chicago on I-65, thereby establishing us in the “here” part of here-and-now storytelling and introducing our common ground.

At another point early on, he asked for a show of hands of how many Deaf people were in the audience…how many hearing people…how many people who knew sign language.  Asking a low-risk but obviously useful question is a classic, reliable way to engage and ground a live audience.  Peter built on that by asking the signers in the audience (Deaf or hearing) to share with him some signs that they knew.

Someone signed “drink.”

Peter signed (and Kat voiced), “What kind of drink?”

“Wine.”

“What kind of wine?  What year?”

He made the point through this and other examples that American Sign Language is just as robust and meaty and nuanced a language as English is.  This encouraged the hearing members of his audience (me) to watch him as attentively as they normally listen to hearing tellers.

With all of this good (and fun!) preparation, the story trance that came to me during Peter Cook’s more formal storytelling came via a different path than from hearing tellers, but it was just as deep.

The Stories

One story was a hilarious, personalized variation of an urban legend.  In Peter’s version, his principal kept a white ape in a cage in a tunnel under Peter’s school when Peter was a kid.  The principal showed the white ape to Peter and a couple of his friends, but warned them to never, ever touch it.  Of course, they had to sneak back on their own to see it again. 

I’m not going to tell you what the surprise ending was to that story, but I will tell you that Peter’s telling of it was edge-of-your-seat exciting and suspenseful.  Each character in the story was crisply delineated and the pacing of the telling was tantalizing.  I am shivering with glee, again, remembering. 

The final story had a different kind of universal resonance.  It, too, was richly detailed.  It had funny moments, but ultimately it was a more serious personal story from Peter’s real life.  It invited everyone to make the effort to communicate, but it was not the least bit preachy.  I loved the layers of meaning in it:

When Peter was a teenager, a hearing girl asked him to dance, and even kissed him.  After the dance, he bribed his hearing younger brother to call her for him on the telephone.  She agreed, through Peter’s brother, to meet Peter again at the next monthly dance.

But when Peter got there, she told him she couldn’t dance with him any more because he couldn’t communicate with her.

He told us how devastating that had felt and I bet everyone in the audience was right there with him.  Who does not remember and wince at adolescent rejection?

He told us that he could have done several things to try to convince her that he could communicate with her – he could have written her a note, or whatever (and I thought he had already proven a lot about his resourcefulness and willingness!) – but what he did was kiss her goodbye on the forehead, walk away, and try to get on with his life.

Years later, she came up to him at a party or a storytelling event or somewhere.  (I forget.)  He felt shame and humiliation again “because that was the last feeling I had had with her and those feelings stay in our bodies until something replaces them or we do something to release them.”

But then she signed to him, “The problem was not that you couldn’t communicate with me, it was that I could not communicate with you.”  In the years since he had last seen her, she had learned ASL!

I bet everyone in the audience – hearing or Deaf – could relate to that validation, too.

At the end of the story, Peter said to the audience something like “It takes two to tango…May I have this dance with you?”

Everyone applauded “Yes!” either by clapping their hands (hearing people) or by making jazz hands over their heads (Deaf people.)  It was a wonderful story and it had been a wonderful evening.

Post Script

I enjoyed the evening very much, but I left the theatre thinking about the two times that I had taken ASL classes here in Indianapolis at the Indiana School for the Deaf, and tried another time on my own using videotapes from the library…and failed miserably each time.  My cousin Heather is a professional ASL interpreter and I have always admired her skill.

“Hopie, maybe you just like the sound of your own voice too much,” I told myself sadly as I drove home after Peter’s storytelling concert.

But now, as I am writing about that final story several days later, I realize that the point of the story for me is not whether or not I am capable of learning sign language.  There are many right ways to communicate if one wants to badly enough.  For me, the more important message is that there comes a point in every relationship where you ask two questions: “What am I willing to do to make this relationship work? (I.e. – Do I really only love the sound of my own voice or do I also love this other person’s as well?)” AND “Is this other person willing to meet me half-way? (I.e. – Is this person worth the trouble?)”

I also wonder what unreleased humiliations I am carrying in my own body and how to release them.  Hmm.

Yup, it was a wonderful, wonderful evening.

Box Office

Storyteller Peter Cook was only in Indianapolis for that one day, but another professional storyteller, Anne Shimojima, will be here next Saturday, April 10, 2010.  She, too, is well known and respected among storytelling fans but unfortunately I have never heard her tell before.

She is giving a workshop on Saturday morning as well as a storytelling concert on Saturday night.  Both will be at the Indiana History Center. 

Here is the Anne Shimojima press release I received from Ellen Munds at Storytelling Arts of Indiana:

Storytelling Arts of Indiana and the Indiana Historical Society proudly present storyteller Anne Shimojima, for a workshop at 10 a.m. and a performance at 7:30 p.m. on Saturday, April 10, 2010.

In 2006, Anne interviewed her 91-year-old aunt, who experienced the difficult days of the war and living in an internment camp for Japanese-Americans. This blossomed into a family history project which she will share during her workshop presentation, Hidden Memory. Learn how you can preserve family memories using photographs and interviews. This workshop was presented at the National Storytelling Conference in 2008. 

Anne has delighted audiences of all sizes with her graceful and spirited tellings of folktales from her Asian heritage and around the world. For us, she will tell, Tales of East and West where listeners will travel the pathways of the human heart with folk tales centuries old and yet as timeless and current as the human race. “One of the most compelling storytellers to be heard anywhere, Anne Shimojima is mesmerizing! Like a gifted sculptor, Anne has a talent for cutting away all that is extraneous, leaving only the essential story in all its glistening beauty behind.” Rives Collins, McCormick Professor of Teaching Excellence, Department of Theatre, Northwestern University.  

Anne has a rich knowledge of story and a keen ear for performance.  She has performed at the JustStories Storytelling Festival in Chicago, the Wild Onion Storytelling Festival and the Illinois Storytelling Festival. This is her first appearance in Indianapolis. 
 

Both events will take place at the Eugene and Marilyn Glick Indiana History Center, located at 450 W. Ohio Street. Tickets for the workshop are $30. Tickets for the Saturday night performance are $15 in advance or $18 at the door. To order tickets or for more information, call the Indiana History Center at (317) 232-1882 or (800) 447-1830 or purchase tickets on-line, www.storytellingarts.org. Free parking is available at the Indiana History Center in its parking lot at the corner of West and New York streets. 

‘See you at the theatres!

Hope Baugh – www.IndyTheatreHabit.com

Follow @IndyTheatre on Twitter.com, too. 

On Tuesday, February 9, I drove to the Indy Fringe Theatre Building in downtown Indianapolis for the second monthly “Jabberwocky” event of 2010. The first one had been a lot of fun, so I looked forward to the second one as well.  The “Jabberwocky” series of “rendezvous of Jabbers who share their life stories” is produced by Storytelling Arts of Indiana and the Indy Fringe Festival, and supported by IndyGo (Indy’s bus system.)  It is held on the second Tuesday of every month.

The theme for the February evening of stories was “Once Upon a Time.”  Philanthropist and arts supporter Frank Basile was the MC.  The featured tellers were Phoenix Theatre actress Gayle Steigerwald, Theatre on the Square director/actor Ron Spencer, and school media specialist/storyteller Celestine Bloomfield.

I enjoyed listening to all of them!

This was Gayle Steigerwald’s first foray into spoken word storytelling as opposed to acting.  Even though she confessed to being very nervous about performing without a script or other actors to play off of, she was a natural at storytelling!  She shared stories from her life as a professional actor over the years and made us all laugh again and again in sympathy.   Oh, my, I am laughing out loud again, remembering some of her tales of missed cues and mishaps back stage.

I think this was sort of a new experience for Ron Spencer, too, although maybe he has had more experience standing up in front of audiences as himself because he has to give so many curtain talks before shows.  I also assume he has to give presentations to his theatre board.  In any case, he, too, shared interesting stories from his theatre life, some of which were quite poignant.  For example, I was surprised to hear that he had followed his heart to Korea at one point, and directed one of his first shows there.

Both Gayle and Ron mentioned how grateful they were to the Indianapolis Civic Theatre (aka “Civic”) for introducing them to the theatre arts when they were quite young and for giving them their first encouragement as actors.  I hadn’t known this about either of them, either.

Celestine Bloomfield has been sharing stories with all ages of audiences all around Indiana for several years. I have heard her tell just about everything from ghost stories to historical stories to funny stories for families.   This was an all-adult audience, so she took the opportunity to share an adults-only Anansi story about the time when that trickster Spider Man stuck his penis up through a hole in a big log that lay across the path that women had to walk to fetch water from the river.  His purpose was to convince women that they should give men (who all lived in a separate village at that time) a chance.  As each woman stepped over the log, straddling it, she felt something…good, and lingered there for a while, rocking enthusiastically until she…was finished.

As I say, I have heard Celestine tell many different stories many, many times before, but that was a new story for me.  I am laughing and saying, “Oh, my goodness!” again, now, remembering it.  She told it well.

Later, just before the open microphone portion of the evening, Celestine pulled volunteers from the audience to come up and read aloud the steamy parts from her collection of romance novels.  Each of the volunteers gave it their best, and I admire Celestine for wanting to involve lots of people, but the energy of this activity felt odd and forced.  It also went on too long.  I think it might have squelched some shy people rather than encouraging them. 

At any rate only a couple of people volunteered to share stories when Frank said the microphone was open.  One was a joke story told by a man about how (supposedly) women urinate differently at different stages of our lives.  He told well, too, demonstrating the punch line with mouthfuls of water.

But oh, my, it was an odd, odd ending to the evening.

But you know what?  Unpredictability is one of the aspects of a live story swap that I love most.

Also, this was a particularly blizzard-y Tuesday evening, so no one wanted to linger a long time anyway, even though the building was warm and there were two kinds of yummy, hot, hearty, vegetarian soup to eat.  But I bet that on another, slightly balmier, evening, if we had just waited a little bit, the oddness would have worked itself out, and other kinds of stories would have come up again. 

Anyway, I was glad that I had put on my snow boots, cleared off my car, and driven downtown for this event.

In March…

The next “Jabberwocky” will be Tuesday, March 9, 2010, again at the Indy Fringe Theatre Building, 719 East St. Clair Street, Indianapolis (near the intersection of College Avenue and Massachusetts Avenue.) Doors open at 5:30 p.m.  Program begins at 6:00 p.m.  $10 admission includes hearty soup and bread.  There will also be a cash bar.

The theme this time will be “Off-key Musicians.”  Here is the blurb from the Storytelling Arts of Indiana website:

It’s not so much a night of tone-deaf musicians, or music played in the wrong key.  It’s more about the time when the show did go on, and it really shouldn’t have.  Funny.  Embarrassing.  And sure to hit all the right notes.  Join Jenny DeVoe, Jose Valencia, and Becky Archibald for an evening of off-key stories followed by an open-mike session.  During the open-mike session stories are limited to 3-5 minutes in length. The evening host is Travis DeNicola.

IndyGo Route 5, Route 11, Route 17 and Route 21 serve the Indy Fringe Theatre.

‘See you at the theatres!

Hope Baugh – www.IndyTheatreHabit.com

Also follow @IndyTheatre on Twitter.com.

(“Alphabet Soup Love” photo, above, is by” basheertome,” from the Creative Commons section of Flickr.com.)

On Sunday, January 24, 2010, I drove to the Frank and Katrina Basile Theatre in the newly renovated Indiana History Center in downtown Indianapolis to hear the premiere performance of “Root Doctors, Midwives, and Fried-Mice Pie: Medicine in Early Indiana.”  Storyteller Susan Grizzell was commissioned to develop and present this piece by Storytelling Arts of Indiana and the Indiana Historical Society as part of their Sharing Hoosier History Through Stories Series.

Not all public speaking involves storytelling.  This piece as presented was more of a read-from-notes lecture than a storytelling – more about this in a moment – but the information was interesting and Sue delivered it warmly.

She stood behind a podium next to a lace-covered table on which were several onions and an egg and something else that size that I couldn’t identify from where I sat.

She shared a wealth of information from a variety of cited sources about early medical practices throughout the young United States, not just Indiana.  Much of it was ghastly, so the audience shivered in delight and gratitude that we no longer rely on, for example, axes under the bed to “cut the pain” of childbirth, or “cupping” and mustard poultices to raise welts on a patient’s skin to “pull” the illnesses out.  We gasped and cringed at the thought of removing birthmarks by rubbing them with the hand of a corpse, too. 

We laughed out loud at the thought of boiling a piece of pork meat in a patient’s urine three times and then feeding it to a pig or dog (but not your neighbor’s) so that the animal would die instead of the patient.

By the end of the program, though, when Sue was throwing the onions into the audience and prescribing them for various ailments, I felt impressed but…dissatisfied.  I felt impressed by all of the research that had obviously gone into this presentation – and I believed Sue when she said that there were many more treatments and recipes “on the cutting room floor.”  However, I had come to hear stories and at the end of the program I didn’t feel that I had heard any stories, only references to stories, if that makes sense.

Every once in a while it would seem that we were going to settle in to a story – something with people that we could get to know, having problems we could sympathize with, finding solutions that we could rejoice along with, or experiencing tragedies that we could empathize with, or whatever – but no, too quickly we were on to the next bit of information. 

I think, for example, that I would have liked to have been led by the storyteller more deeply into the personalities and actions that were part of the rivalry between the “heroic”-style doctors and the new root doctor, Thomas Chin, in the settlement where after a while everyone was putting up a shingle and calling himself a root doctor, even the man who had been a constable three weeks ago.   There are all kinds of potential humorous, cultural, and otherwise engaging story elements to unpack and flesh out in that one sentence.

And if all that wasn’t already neatly packaged and ready to learn and tell in the primary sources, then I am okay with the storyteller imagining and filling in what was not in the primary sources.  A well-crafted story can usually give the feelings and motivations and truth of a topic more effectively than mere facts.  I also think it is possible to craft a story while still respecting the facts.

I know that Sue knows how to do this because I have heard her do it many times before.  I think she just ran out of preparation time this time.

For another example, I think I would have liked to linger in a story about birthing practices.  Sue went into storytelling mode about this sub-topic at one point, telling about one specific birth and the people who were present at it, and tying it somehow to her own experiences as a mother.  You could tell it was storytelling and not fact-telling then because everyone went deeply still for a moment, listening.  But too quickly, before we had time to feel the relief with the pioneer family or share their grief or even just process however the story ended, we were on to the next piece of information.

There are other “story embryos” among the wealth of information that Sue gathered.  Maybe some of those, if more fully developed into stories, would be even more interesting to an audience of story listeners than the ones that caught my attention.

So…as is, this piece is a very interesting talk on the subject of medicine in early Indiana, but I think it has the potential to be a great example of the art and craft of storytelling.  In fact, Sue herself hinted at the end of the premiere that she hoped to continue to work on shaping the piece into a more narrative form.  I hope she does.  I expect that Sue will get a chance to present this piece a few more times this year around the state as part of the Sharing Hoosier History Through Stories grant.  I hope I get to hear it again as it evolves!

Box Office/Mailbox –

Below are excerpts from the press releases I received about the next two Storytelling Arts events (with a link embedded by me to my thoughts about the first “Jabberwocky” event.)  I am looking forward to both of them.  And how cool is it that the “Jabberwocky” series at the Indy Fringe building is supported by the Indianapolis public transportation system!  I admire whoever thought of that sensible partnership.

Indianapolis – Storytelling Arts of Indiana and Indy Fringe Festival present the second Jabberwocky (a rendezvous of Jabbers who share their life stories) on Tuesday, February 9th at the Indy Fringe Theatre, 719 East St. Clair St, doors open at 5:30 p.m., the program begins at 6 p.m.  Tickets are $10 at the door which includes hearty soup, bread, snacks and a cash bar.

What do actors, librarians and teachers all have in common? Stories that begin with Once Upon a Time. This is a night of lustful humor, Harlequin romances and good stories by Ron Spencer of Theatre on the Square, actor Gayle Steigerwald and storyteller Celestine Bloomfield. After the heavy breathing subsides, audience members get their chance to jump in and share a tale or two. Stories shared during the open-mike portion should be limited to 3 – 5 minutes.

Jabberwocky is supported by IndyGo. IndyGo Route 5, Route 11, Route 17 and Route 21 serve the Indy Fringe Theatre.

Jabberwocky is a monthly event based themes to get every day folks to share their life stories.  Upcoming theses include Off-Key Musicians on March 9th, and Worst Case Scenarios on April 13th. Indy Fringe Festival and Storytelling Arts of Indiana have a history of collaboration. Most recently, Storytelling Arts of Indiana sponsored a stage during the 2009 Indy Fringe Festival which featured several storytellers. To learn more about the 2010 Indy Fringe Festival visit, www.indyfringe.org and upcoming storytelling events visit, www.storytellingarts.org. 
 
 *****

Indianapolis- Talk of the Town: The Tenth Annual Benefit for Storytelling Arts of Indiana is scheduled for Saturday, February 20, 2010 at the Eugene and Marilyn Glick Indiana History Center.  The evening hosted by Lou Harry of the Indianapolis Business Journal includes a dinner, silent auction and storytelling performance, Stories for the Journey Home, told by Carmen Agra Deedy who is known for her razor-sharp wit. 

Carmen Agra Deedy is an award-winning storyteller who was born in Havana, Cuba. In 1960, she emigrated from her homeland during the Cuban Revolution, a move that has profoundly affected her life and her work. Her parents, strong proponents of human rights, decided to leave after four tumultuous years in the midst of a revolutionary environment. They took Carmen and her sister and found sanctuary in the United States under the JFK Cuban Refugee Act of 1963. They settled in Decatur, Georgia, where they coped with the separation from loved ones still in Cuba and slowly acclimated to cultural differences. The Agra family ultimately succeeded in starting over and rebuilding their lives.

While Deedy’s storytelling reflects these themes of separation and deprivation, she shapes and crafts her stories with humor. Also essential to Deedy’s experience are her strong sense of perseverance and her dual heritage, drawn from growing up steeped in the riches of both Latin American and Southern culture. 

This event begins in the Startdust Terrace Café and moves upstairs to the Frank and Katrina Basile Theater located in the Eugene and Marilyn Glick Indiana History Center, 450 W. Ohio St. Tickets for the entire evening are $80 per person. Tickets for the performance only are $20 in advance or $25 at the door. To order tickets or for more information, call the Indiana History Center at (317) 232-1882 or (800) 447-1830 or purchase tickets on-line, www.storytellingarts.org. Free parking is available at the Indiana History Center in its parking lot at the corner of West and New York streets. 

‘See you at the theatres!

 Hope Baugh – www.IndyTheatreHabit.com

Follow @IndyTheatre on Twitter.com, too!

P.S. – The headshot I received of Susan Grizzell from Storytelling Arts of Indiana was too big of a jpg file, apparently, for resizing via Flickr.com or WordPress.  Anyway, I couldn’t figure out how to make it work, unfortunately.  ‘Sorry!  But as a sort of substitute, I do like the “Herb Bundles” photo by Carolina Gonzalez, because Sue referred to herbs a lot in her talk.

On Sunday afternoon, October 25, 2009, I drove to the newly-renovated Indiana History Center on the canal in downtown Indianapolis to hear storyteller Patrick Ball and musicians Shira Kammen and Tim Rayborn (a duo known collectively as “The Medieval Beasts”) bring to life a piece called “Telling the Flame of Love: The Legend of Tristan and Iseult.”  It was presented by Storytelling Arts of Indiana and the Indiana Historical Society as part of the Printing Partners Storytelling Theater series.  It was sponsored by Lewis & Kappes, Fred and Midge Munds, Tom and Pat Grabill, and Ryan Zumbahlen.  Cathy Covey was the sign language interpreter.

It is a relatively new piece, I think.  Usually Storytelling Arts director Ellen Munds only brings to Indianapolis storytellers and storytelling shows that she has heard and seen before in other venues around the country.  When I asked her after this show where else she had seen it, she said that she had not, in fact, seen it before.  When Patrick Ball had told her about it, she was intrigued.  She trusted him enough based on past experiences to hire him based just on his description of the piece.

I’m glad she did.

It is as rich in imagery, language, and melody as a tapestry is rich in color and texture.   It is sort of a tragic, Romeo-and-Juliet-type tale of star-crossed lovers, but it is a much longer and more complex story, with many more mistakes and misunderstandings, many more dragons and battles and bits of magic, and a more complete (one might also say more stupid, or more romantic) surrendering to love. It is also related to the animosity between all of Cornwall and Ireland, rather than just the animosity between two families.

Patrick stands and tells the once famous but now lesser-known story of Tristan and Iseult as if he is addressing a roomful of “my lords and ladies” in medieval times.  He tells with his whole body – indeed, with what seems like his whole heart, mind, and soul.  He ends by saying that he hopes our having heard this story will keep us from “the bitterness of love.”

In between sections of the story, Patrick sits at a fairly large Celtic harp and plays.  The sound is ethereal.

Sitting near him are Shira and Tim, surrounded by authentically medieval-style instruments, including two smaller, medieval harps, a psaltery, a hand drum, a lute, and a vielle – a stringed instrument that looks something like a violin.  Shira and Tim introduce us to these instruments before the story begins so that we can give our full attention to the story, not be distracted by wondering what the instruments are called.

Sometimes all three performers play together.  Sometimes Shira or Tim sing and/or play, individually or together.  I couldn’t understand many of the songs because they were in Galician or medieval German or 14^th century English or 13^th century French or one of several other languages that were completely foreign to me, but I loved listening to the gorgeous aural landscape of the songs.  I also loved hearing the emotion and (it seemed to me) precision and expertise that these special musicians brought to their singing and playing.

On Sunday afternoon, all three performers listened carefully to each other and seemed perfectly synchronized.

I couldn’t always understand what Patrick was saying, but that was mostly because some of the place names were unfamiliar and because the sentence patterns and his accent were more British than what I am used to.  He also speaks rather quickly in this piece.  I had to concentrate harder than I sometimes do with other storytellers (or even other times I’ve heard Patrick tell) but the richness of the language and imagery was worth the extra effort.

Because of the intense level of listening required, this is not a piece for young children.

I didn’t look at my program until later, but the cast of characters listed there was interesting and useful.  (“Ah, yes, the evil dwarf, Frocin!  I remember him.”)  If I had looked at it sooner, it might have helped me become familiar with the sound of the characters’ names more quickly as I listened to the story.  I noticed during the second part of the show after intermission that some audience members were now following along in their programs not only the list of characters but also the list of pieces of music, which were grouped according to sections of the story:  “The Childhood of Tristan,” “The Quest of the Lady with the Hair of Gold,” “To Philtre,” etc. 

I think if I had never heard or read any version of the story of Tristan and Iseult before, and if I did not have the details in the program, I would have had a very hard time keeping up with the twists and turns in this epic.  But maybe not.  And anyway, I’m not sure I would have minded.  Epics are supposed to be meaty enough to deserve multiple listenings.  This one certainly does.

I left feeling that I had experienced a unique treat.

Box Office

This was a one-performance only event, but the next event in the Storytelling Arts of Indiana/Indiana Historical Society calendar is…hey!  It is my own presentation of “Of the People: Stories and Images of Abraham Lincoln.”  It will be this Wednesday, November 4, 2009 at 7pm in the Richardson Chapel of Franklin College.  It is paid for by a Sharing Hoosier History Through Stories grant, so there is no charge for admission.  Maybe I will see you there?

Hope Baugh – www.IndyTheatreHabit.com

Email: amarylliswriter at gmail dot com

Twitter: @IndyTheatre