Shoes for Feet, Hats for Heads

Last year I was a member of the Open Dream Ensemble. Like most of the company, I wore many hats. I'd written the story we were about to perform, which made me the first of several authors responsible for Big Shoes. Months before we opened, I was joined by Bruce, Kenny, and Ted (our composers) and from the beginning, I'd been collaborating with Rebecca (our artistic director). Weeks before we entered the room, a crew of designers and builders created the set and costumes -- the world -- we'd inhabit. And once rehearsals began, our team accumulated members, who in turn accumulated titles. If each member of ODE had to give a full job description, it'd be full of hyphens and slash-marks. The choreographer is also the tour manager is also playing Emily. The Nice Woman is also the props manager is also the lead teaching artist. All this hat-dancing means that between every pair of company members, there's also set of relationships which shift with the light: I was William's student when I had to learn bass; his co-teacher when we entered the classroom; his playwright when a line got flubbed; etc., etc., etc. Putting on an original musical is stressful and challenging for the same reasons it's so exciting. This kind of fluidity means that sometimes, it's not clear who's got the power. Usually, twelve people have the power, to varying degrees, and each of them has varying aims and concerns, all of which are relevant and real. Figuring out who needs what and keeping a story together all the while for the folks who (we hope) need it most -- the kids -- is a thrilling thing. It really is. My particular thrill in season one of Big Shoes was performing the same text I'd written, confronting the gaps in my own playwriting with a performer's tactics. I'd like to think it made me sharper all around (and what teaching did for all of us is the subject of a whole 'nother post). But this year -- here we go, the point of the post -- I've come in with fresh eyes. I tweaked scenes in the spring, but it's been at least three months since I read the script straight through. I've never -- never! -- seen it performed. So having just one official title is a huge opportunity, a chance to sit back and observe -- and still, somehow, to accrue a whole list of new hyphenations: this student-playwright-audience member has a lot to learn.

This post is from Open Dream's dream writer, Michaela Morton. Michaela is with us this week as a writer-in-residence.