An Ode to My Mentors

(*Warning: This post ended up epically long. Go to the bathroom and grab a drink first.)

Those of you who know me well also know that I really have no internal censor when it comes to the stuff that comes out of my mouth. I speak what I think, I write how I speak, and so on...

I am proud to report, however, that I do manage to behave in a civilized manner when good PR is required and a paycheck is involved. It's the darndest thing... :)

So I guess the real story is that I know how to censor myself... I just don't like to. Especially when I'm among family or parties that I feel comfortable around.

And so it happened... on Sunday as I was rehearsing for a performance at an awards ceremony, that my lack of that censor landed me on the feisty side of Michael Barnard.

Now to give you some history... okay a LOT of history...

Michael is the Artistic Director of Phoenix Theatre. His bio and resume are much too impressive for my modest little blog, but the man is a legend.
I first auditioned for Michael when I was a Freshman. I had just done 'Annie' with MTA and the adults in the show were all a-buzz about some hot director who was coming in for 'Damn Yankees'. Now, I wanted to do anything and everything that the adults in that cast wanted to do. We're talking the likes of John Schuck, Kathy Fitzgerald, Bob Sorenson, John Sankovich, Noel Irick, Karen Morrow... my head is swimming right now.
I was way too young for the show and never thought my parents would allow me to audition for a play with 'Damn' in the title, but they did. It was a brief audition. I was too young for any of the roles.
Damn.

I was pretty gung-ho my Senior year of High School and had applied to every college in the state and auditioned for every performing opportunity possible. I was either going to college with a full scholarship or I was going to tour or travel or just land a solid gig somewhere. I had an offer to tour with Young Americans and I was all nerves and false bravado when I auditioned for the holy grail of my young career... Disney. (*cue angelic descant*)

Once again, I found myself in front of the legendary Michael Barnard. I was called back. Win!
I was invited to attend another callback.
One week before that callback, I found out I was pregnant. Oops.
Certainly NOT the 'Disney way'.

And so, I took a break from theatre while I explored the life of a new mom. I watched my friends whenever possible, becoming an avid audience member (which I believe helped me as an actress more than I could have imagined.) With every show, I felt a stronger pull to return to my first love... the stage. Once my kids were of school age, I had time to devote to relearning my craft.

I was nowhere near the level I had been at the 'height' of my childhood (and childish) acting career. Other than singing at church and for weddings here and there, I had stopped performing. I hadn't danced since my beginning jazz class and my center of gravity after two kids had shifted to somewhere around my right knee.
Layouts and backbends caused me to pee a little.
I certainly wasn't ready for anything beyond community theatre and that's where I lived for many happy years.
TJ Weltzein gave me a break. I had auditioned for him once before. Poorly. Like, epic fail on the audition. It was so bad, I didn't want to show my face again for fear he'd remember me as one of the worst auditions he'd sat through. He put me in the chorus. I was the awkward, chubby girl.
We had an asshat of a choreographer who choreographed the show (purposely set in the 1950's) as modern interp and dance captain Laurie Case had to step in during tech week and rework almost all of the numbers. I started observing everything I could about performers and technicians that I admired. Every director had strengths that I could capitalize on and learn from. Greg Jaye, D. Scott imparted advice I still use to this day. Alan Plado did more with my voice in the course of 6 weeks than 3 years of daily singing had done.
I soaked in everything I could from actors like Kristen Drathman, D.Scott Withers, Ross Collins, Kathi Osborne, Johanna Carlisle, Beth Anne Johnson, Beth Reynolds, Kim Hart, Chris Erikson, Scott Schmelder, Susan Hogle... a list too lengthy to be complete.
It culminated (I thought) when I got the chance to do Victor/Victoria with Jerry Wayne Harkey (who had previously been my Musical Director for 'Annie') as Toddy. I had reached my schoolgirl talent-crush nirvana.

Or so I thought.

I still saw as much theatre as possible. I had seen two productions of 'The Man of La Mancha' and didn't care for the show. The theatre I was working for was mounting the premiere of Dale Wasserman's 'A Walk in the Clouds' the following season and PT happened to be mounting the former aforementioned show, so I decided to give it a look-see. I fell in love with that show that night. I also fell in love with Rusty Ferracane, Jon Gentry and Michelle Gardner. Uber talent crushes everywhere.

When Stagebrush began to fold and Theaterworks saw their changing of the guard in the early 2000's, my theatre family splintered as their journeys brought them to other theatres and other towns. I still felt insecure and green. I knew that I had been coddled and protected and outright spoiled by people who believed in me... but it was now time for me to sink or swim and I didn't know if I was ready.

I got thrown in with both feet when I was called for a production of 'Herberger Headliners'. I would finally get to work with Michael Barnard. Oh joy, Oh Rapture!
Well, it wasn't all it should have been. It was a two-week rehearsal process and a two-show performance. Not only was the rehearsal process quick and harried, but my head wasn't in it. I had just closed a show, was starting rehearsals for another, had a corporate gig on one of the rehearsal nights... oh... and I was also separating from my husband. I was a mess and the entire process was a blur. I left feeling like I had failed destiny and this freak opportunity to become BFFs with Michael Barnard.

I had decided to take a break from the world of musical theatre and try my hand at 'straight' theatre. My resume was very musical heavy and I knew that I was going to have to branch out and show some diversity if I was going to be taken seriously. I landed a role in Noel Coward's 'Blithe Spirit' opposite Jason Barth and directed by Sally Jo Bannow. It was a show that changed my personal and professional life forever.

Jason is a classical actor and somehow managed to talk me into auditioning for Southwest Shakespeare. I had stayed far away from Shakespeare since my rather dry exposure to it in High School and thought he had to be absolutely nuts. But I gave it a try... hoping to impress him. I did find that Shakespeare (to me) was just like singing without an actual tune. There is a natural rhythm... a natural rise and fall, lift and land... to Shakespeare. And I found myself falling in love with the Bard, too.

To my surprise and amazement, I landed roles in the first two shows of the season; the second role would have me side-by-side with Maren Maclean... someone I had only heard of until my reading with the statuesque, sharp-tongued beauty at callbacks. Talk about intimidating!!
My work with Southwest started sporadically, but I was still doing Pinter and LaBute and auditioning for companies like Nearly Naked, Is What It Is, and Stray Cat.
I had also landed some corporate work with Quantum Leap (formerly 'Funny Business') and found myself traveling more than I ever had before... and I was being pushed. My directors, musical directors, choreographers... all saw some kind of potential in me and took the extra time and/or consideration that I needed and got me to where I needed to be.

I was now working with some of the most amazing actors I had ever known. My life was even more full-circle when I had the chance to work alongside Bob Sorenson again and to spend a summer at Shakespeare Sedona with Kathy Fitzgerald and her new family. Again, Nirvana reached.

And last season... after several mediocre auditions and a few chickenshit no-shows, Michael Barnard and I were reunited at long last. He cast me in 'Curtains' and the third Nirvana of my career ascended upon me.

After 'Curtains', Michael called me for a few in-house events... a sure sign that our relationship had not only solidified, but blossomed. He had to have realized (as I had long before) the symbiosis and natural balance of the universe when we are working creatively together. Finally!

And so this novella culminates with our last creative venture in which I completed the most convoluted piece of choreography I have ever attempted to execute.

At rehearsal, I had put in a turn where Michael hadn't choreographed one. Of course everyone in the room is looking at me - Johanna is giving me the eyebrow - and I blurt (in my outside voice)

"I'm just used to Michael putting turns in where they don't belong."

Open mouth, insert right foot.

So, Michael quips back (with feigned hurt) "Most people like my choreography."
And I respond, "Oh, I LOVE your choreography. I just don't like to do it."

Open mouth insert left foot.

*I will insert the disclaimer that I am not a dancer. I am an actor/singer who 'moves well'. Yes I took dance classes. Yes they are on my resume. But that doesn't mean I'm any good. Choreographers scare the shit out of me. They are mutants that have these superpowers that allow them to bend in ways the human body (with bones in it) shouldn't bend and they move their feet faster than I can point out the cheapest shoes in the room (which are mine). They make or break me at auditions and I revere them with the same awe and pants-piddling fear as God. ('Cuz I'm sure he's amazed by them, too.) I'm still nervous whenever I audition for directors I don't know or haven't worked with before. But among them, Robbie Harper, Molly LaJoie, Beth Reynolds, Laurie Trygg, Shawna Quain... basically any choreographer... and the Madonna Mary Mother of them all... is Michael Barnard.

So how do I dig myself out of the hole I just created? I don't.

With both feet inserted in my mouth, I proceed to explain how much of a non-dancer I am.

(Keeping in mind that next season has me panting like a bitch in heat with shows like 'Hairspray' and 'Nine'. Um... DANCE, anyone?)

As my offense continued, (and as Johanna graciously tried to gag my running ratchet-jaw) with my right and left foot firmly planted in my oral orifice; I executed the most flawless pas de bourrée and pirouette. Ever.

And while my artistic influences and talent crushes ebb and flow, I still have to take time every once in a while to acknowledge where I've come from, where I am... and the artists who have been my mentors - whether they knew it or not.

I will probably always be intimidated by Michael, but I also think that a certain amount of respect for your director is healthy. (Even if it doesn't always stop me from saying something stupid and all too Andi-esque.)

And for those who haven't already been mentioned; Tom Leveen, Kaitlin O'Neal, Richard Baird, Doc, Porter, Nathalie, Schoen, Jared, Patrick, April Smith, Christian Miller, Kyle Lawson, Turvin, Page(rip), Dennis, Craig, Gene, Jim, Darcy, Ariel, Wanda, Toby, Desi, DebbieJo, Jeff, et al.

Thanks for teaching me, pushing me, and putting up with all my shenanigans.

Thankfully, I am still learning.
And thanks to so many of you, still loving what I do.

My job is such a privilege. I have been through phases of taking that for granted, but age and experience have taught me that it is a rare blessing to be able to do what I love. I am thankful every day for those who have taken me under their wing and for those that continue to share their knowledge and wisdom (and patiently teach me to time-step).

I can only do what I do because you've taught me.
Thank you.

And finally, in case my acerbic, tongue-in-cheek humor doesn't translate via written cyberpage, I would like to have it known that:

I LOVE Michael Barnard's choreography! It challenges me. Furthermore, as a director, he allows me to push who I am as an artist and how I express myself. And if that weren't motivation enough, I'm guaranteed to lose anywhere from 10-15 pounds over the course of a Michael Barnard show. I know my skinny bitches hear me on that one.
Right?
Done!