Last night we had a post-show talkback. I will say that some of my most memorable talkback experiences were on my children’s tour, where questions ranged from “Are you guys dating?” (Long Island) to “Y’all man and wife?” (West Virginia). So the bar wasn’t set too high, but still I was happily surprised by the discussion last night. From a board member noting how everyone can relate to a piece of the play, whether they talk about it or not – to a professed non-theatergoer wondering how this place ended up in Greene – without realizing it, we started touching on some of the big questions we ask as artists (why this play, why this play now, for whom?).

This morning after breakfast in town I was stopped on the street by the local salon owner, who saw me through the window and ran out to say hi. “Don’t I know you from being onstage?” he said, and we laughed as he recalled how much he had enjoyed the Rhonda scene.

Local celebrity notwithstanding, I am reminded what I did love about that children’s tour, why it’s so good to do theater in places that aren’t saturated with it. This play just speaks to the heart, and the guilelessness of an audience full of people who don’t see live theater every week can be refreshing, welcoming, real.

Someone asked last night if the show changes from night to night, and I replied that — at the risk of being saccharine, and I know it’s probably too late already! — yes, it does — not least because of you.

Clothes are funny. Winter clothes are maybe funnier (although there are some people in NYC these days giving that theory a run for its money), and any woman who’s ever worn a pair of skinny jeans knows that the things we do to get ourselves into and out of clothes are probably the funniest of all. Last night around the campfire we were talking about evolution, among other things, and so it occurs to me that it seems rather odd to evolve into a vulnerable state of being that requires so much extra protection from the elements. Although in the end, that necessity gave us Carolina Herrera and Coco Chanel, so I suppose I’ll just count my blessings.

With special thanks to Jen Burry for photographic assistance.

It’s a triptych for Day 3! (Almost.)

First weekend down. I love the way every show is different — the crazy goofs that happen with lines and accidental head-butts and sudden southern drawls that character never had before — but how much the differences also depend on the audience and the energy they bring to the room. The subtle ways an actor learns to gauge the laughs and the bits and how different audiences react to the same moments. On opening night the audience gasped audibly at the surprises; one lady ran a running commentary about events as they happened, as well as a few forecasts of things yet to come. The next night’s crowd was almost inevitably more subdued, but it’s dangerous to judge that as lack of enjoyment. Every group brings something different to the table, whether it be loud laughers or otherwise, and isn’t that why we go to the theater? To truly be a part of the experience, because it’s really never the same show twice.

Rhonda is a tough broad. When I started working on the scene for my callback I scoffed, wondering why on earth they would be considering me for the role and telling everyone “I will never play this part!” But they asked for it in the audition, and what could I do but jump in feet first and let ‘er rip?

Never say never, I guess, because you never know.

I’m taking a page from my friend Marc Bovino‘s book here to bring you a photoblog for the run of Maine.

As we know, Marc is a photographer/graphic designer extraordinaire (see recent album cover and headshot), in addition to being a terrific actor, and last year during the run of Dracula at Actors Theatre of Louisville he did a 31-day photoblog of his character, Renfield. It’s pretty brilliant and highly recommended…

…and in fact I loved it so much that I wanted to do something similar here. As it turns out, I have four costume changes and not too much downtime (not to mention inferior photographic equipment), but such harmless details can’t keep me down. And so, without further adieu: Fifteen Days of Rhonda.

We open tonight! After a whirlwind two weeks of rehearsal, we’ve been costumed, propped and prepped to open the season at Chenango River Theatre. I’ve had ideas and fits & starts of things to tell you about along the way, but once again I’ve been reminded that one only has so much creative juice at a time – and I’ve had a few other places to put it lately. It’s been a raucous, fun process, not always easy, and I’m grateful to director Chris Clavelli and the rest of this great cast for the room to play and stretch and remember what it takes to tell these stories and speak from the heart.

Here’s our promo shot for the show (with actor Paul Kelly), as featured this week in the Binghamton Press & Sun-Bulletin.

Feeling like summer here in Greene, and we took a little cast field trip to Whitney Point this morning for some sunshine. The boats and the beach don’t open til Saturday, so I suppose we have an excuse to go back (as if we needed one).

Costume fittings are underway, and it’s back into rehearsal in an hour. Hard to believe we’re just finishing our first pass at these scenes, and a week from now we’ll already be in final dress…