Training Nostalgia And Rambling (Chapter The First)

I have, over the past few days, found myself recalling some episodes from the directing segment of my high school theatrical training. Perhaps it is due to reading some of the works of Archibald MacLeish.

During one of the classes, we did some directing projects. And for one of them I directed a scene (the opening scene, to be specific) from the play J.B.. For various reasons I cast two females in the roles of Mr. Zuss and Nickles who, within the world of the play, evoke the personas of God and Satan, respectively. At the same time we (Waukegan West High School) were producing a musical, which happened to be Godspell. And a part of that set, used to hold up the chain link fence, was a unit of portable scaffolding - the sort used on construction sites, etc. As one of the performers cast in Godspell I had been rehearsing on the unit, since it was part of the choreography for my song ('We Beseech Thee'). And as the original textural notes in J.B. call for the show to occur (at least in part) within a circus tent I thought that the bare steel, etc served to echo some of what is seen when you look at circus rigging. So since the scenes where to be presented in the schools auditorium I took the opportunity to stage my scene using that unit.

Admittedly, had you asked me at the time I would probably not have been able to put into words anything close to what strikes me now. As a 15 year old I had no idea what my 'artistic philosophy' was. Candidly, I can't clearly recollect if I even knew what that term meant. But now given the lens of reflection I can see some small fragments of my current, albeit still fluid, 'artistic philosophy'. Simplicity. Silence. Space. In the heady high school days that followed I would read the theories of Konstantin Stanislavski, and the plays of Edward Albee (admittedly becoming a bit obsessed by latters texts). And then one day I heard a phrase that I would, in one way or another, carry as a part of how and why I do what I do. It was a quote from Faulkner, via the mouth of Harlan Ellison. I would later learn that Ellison had paraphrased the quote, based primarily (from what I can discern) on Faulkner's speech at the Nobel Prize Banquet. I have always simply referred to it as 'Faulkner's Dictum', which is:

                The only thing worth the sweat and damn of writing about is
                               the human heart in conflict with itself.

That brings me back to the works of Archibald MacLeish. As I said earlier, I have been reading some of his works over the past few days. And listening to a production of one of his self described 'verse for radio' scripts entitled The Fall of the City.

(Here is a link to an MP3 of the initial broadcast : Columbia Workshop Production of 'The Fall of the City' - 1938 )

The hearing, and the reading, have inspired me to develop yet another project for my next academic year. And the seeming synchronicity that occurs along the path of my training that now finds me once again inspired by MacLeish somewhat tickles my nostalgic soul. Almost as much as, in retrospect, I am pleased by the memory of a putative God and Satan arguing on a set intended for a musical about Jesus.

More to come...later.



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