No F*cks!

Pardon my verbosity about something possibly “silly” to the outside world.

But indulge me for a sec. LOOK. Here I am:

- a woman
- [semi] alive in the 21st century
- with a disordered eating and body-dysmorphia history
- covered in scars from 4 life-saving bowel surgeries
- and FORTY-ONE FREAKING years old
- in a BIKINI
- on STAGE
- in NYC
- doing simulated S&M
- with a man 1000% hotter than me. 

with José Espinosa, photo by @antonovpavlun

Even 5 years ago me would be in total shock, and probably require a defibrillator.

No one might assume this of me ("body issues") but— ya know, we all have our histories. My body is one I’ve hated, tried to save, tried to love, and in the end? It is the only vehicle I shall ever have to experience this life. I'm proud that I said "yes" to wearing/doing this with very little internal or external drama (a shoulder shrug and a “sure!”) and no desire to hide the surgical scars or meaningfully cover the “flaws.”

All to say — I might be making a massive fool of myself strutting around onstage in a hot pink bikini — but internally? It’s genuinely a big victory cultivated over years of internal work.

Life’s a journey, kids.
Well, actually it is many— and one of my journeys has been of personal acceptance, surrender, recovering-perfectionism and general self-worth stuff in regard to my internal self and physical form. And I’m sharing this sappy stuff with you because if that is a journey you are on, as well? You’re not alone and there is hope. I never thought [gestures above] all this would be possible and … it is.

So. One day you too might make a fool of yourself in public in a 'proverbial bikini' but know that it is also a huge victory for you.

Life is precious and short and worthy of celebration and laughter. 

So put on whatever "the  bikini" is for you and thrive, pals.

 here I am saying "Yes way, José!"

Farewell to Our Class

There aren’t words for what this role, play, group of creatives, and telling a story like this at this moment in history has meant to me as an actor, a Jewish woman and a human being. 

As an actor, I don't know that there has ever been a greater ask of me: the challenge and privilege to play a single human being from the age of 5 to the age of 83 across the spectrum of her entire (incomprehensible) lifetime. I love "little Rachelka" as much as I love "old Marianna," and I marvel at the twists, turns, glories, broken dreams, acts of unimaginable violence, and spine-breaking moral quandaries this one woman faced from 1919 to 2002. 

It was an honor to portray so complex a woman. It was a great exercise in the role of an actor to not judge their character, but to breathe life into them, animate their body, give voice to their words, and very simply: to portray them. 

Rachelka/Marianna taught be so much about the arrogance of a 21st-century American sensibility: who are any of us to judge human beings in circumstances we will likely never experience? Who are we to be arrogant enough to presume we would know what is "best?" Or what we believe we would do if presented with identical circumstances? The truth is: no one knows what they would choose, or who they might be when squeezed beyond our imaginations. 

 *

We live in a time when the hate many people hold within themselves has been given "permission" to be released into the world without consequence. I never felt particularly like a "Jewish actor' before the last 8 years— perhaps I identified more as "an actor who happened to be Jewish." I'm not certain. 

But what I do know, is that as hatred perpetuates, so does the muscularity of my Jewish pride, onstage and off; and an extension of that is the calling to do plays that speak to these themes. To have audiences know these people I portray— and those they represent. 

It is a Jewish belief that souls are with us as long as they are remembered; specifically remembered by name (one of the many reasons we name our children after the departed, and why we speak the names of the departed aloud so often). Audiences might not know Rachelka and those like her without plays like Our Class and actors like myself to bring them to life. 

It feels like a very real mitzvah to tell these stories.

 

 

 

I think with difficult material there is a tendency to indicate to the audience that you must watch with great seriousness. But that actually [prevents you from] entering into the space with the same open heart that we hopefully walk through life with. What Igor captures so beautifully is that difficult things happen alongside joy. Through all the seriousness, there's love and humor and ribbing each other. If we don't laugh and love, we're not honoring the people in these stories.                                                                                                                                                                                                       I don't think Americans fully grasp that everywhere else on Earth, Judaism is not merely a religion. It is also an enth-religion, a culture, and in many parts of the world, it is related to blood: to racial identity, for better and for worse. I'm a "successful" American assimilation story on some levels. My ancestors were able to shed all of the accouterments of their visible Jewishness and become Americans. 

Perhaps that robbed me of countless Shabbats and Hanukkahs and prayers. But through my theatrical life, I can reclaim sacred traditions. There's something about the theatre that shares ritualistic sanctity with, in my experience, Jewish traditions. Why is this night different from all other nights? Because tonight we're doing the play. Rituals say that this moment is distinct and sacred from the moment that comes before and the moment that comes after. And what is theatre if not that?

 

Plays about the past can make us very complacent as theatre-makers and as audiences. But this isn't a play about the past at all. This is who we are. 

 

The second act of Our Class could almost be subtitled, "How they lived with what they did." Some of them didn't do very well—even though they survived, they were not fully alive. 

 

One other thing that I've been thinking about a lot is how, for a lot of the late 20th century and early 21st century, art started to exclusively focus on victim stories. Not that that isn't important. But by failing to focus on the perpetrators, we fail to be exposed to how we might be like them. Both these plays focus on the humanity and inhumanity of people just like us who behave in monstrous ways. It's art's purpose to show us these corners of humanity. 

 

 

I think it's incredibly important, especially now, to see that in "them" there's a whole lot of "us." 

 

 

For now, all that’s left is chalk dust, memories, and gratitude.  

 

 

Call Me Adam: Merchant of Venice

1. I can't believe it's been six years since our last interview together! At that time, you were starring in Camelot in Washington DC. How would you say you have changed the most since that time?

 It’s almost unutterable how much I have personally changed and how much the world has too.

I have had a major organ removed and reconstructed. It saved my life.
I fell in love and got married.
I turned 40

There was a worldwide Pandemic. And the world is even more inside out and upside down. 

2. This fall you are starring in an updated William Shakespeare's The Merchant of Venice at Classic Stage Company. What made you want to sign on for this re-telling of The Merchant of Venice?

It is a dream-like opportunity to portray one of Shakespeare’s great leading roles in New York City—a dream I have had since childhood. To be a Jewish actor (born into a Catholic-Jewish largely secular family) in this particular moment in world history, telling a story that involves Jew hated, feels like another sensitive, challenging and important task.

It’s a thrill to ask hard questions in the room, to know we might never find answers, and to be a vessel for complex dualities onstage and off. 

3. Why do you feel audiences should come see this modern version?

We live in a world of knee jerk reactions, polarized camps and a culture that feels obedient to loudly chanting the “right” ideas for fear of estrangement from our communities, rather than arriving at points of view on our own — of much more nuanced.

I think The Merchant of Venice is a play that people have a knee jerk reaction about — assuming it cannot be done (and thus cannot be viewed) without a moral indictment of those both creating the production AND viewing it.

I welcome modern audiences to walk in ready to be confronted with very hard questions and thoughts and ideas— but leave room within themselves for growth and awe and surprise. Igor/our take on this piece is bold and yes, confrontational— but not in the ways you might assume. I welcome you to join us and be surprised. Have your expectations and your assumptions exploded. I won’t say more than that because of spoilers!

4. In the show, you are playing Portia. What do you relate to most about her?

Her loneliness and isolation.
I’d like to think we share a fierce intellect and large capacity for love. 

5. What is one quality of hers you are glad you yourself don't possess?

Even though your previous question asked about complimentary shared (pardon the expression) *qualities* It would be arrogant of me to assume that I — or anyone— don’t share all of Portia’s less favorable qualities as well. We contain multitudes.  

And I’ll admit that while i do not love, and endeavor daily to overcome, them , I possess such negative personal attributes such as

• self-obsession
• self righteousness
• Snobbery
• Manipulation
• Conscious and unconscious bias + “isms”
• Selective memory
• Elitism and classism

The list goes on.

Don’t you …posses those too?
In some level, Don’t we all? 

Knowing something is bad or wrong doesn’t eradicate it from our psyche — it gives us an opportunity to overcome it and behave differently despite ourselves. To offer ourselves and others grace and dare I say it? “Mercy.” 

6. In this re-telling, Superheroes and their archenemies battle it out to protect good in the face of evil. Considering the tumultuous times we are living in, how do you protect the good of the world with so much evil lurking at every corner?

I strive to do what I can in the ways that feel natural and accessible to me. I have always been on the quieter, slower and more thoughtful side of political, philosophical and ethical thought—preferring long and deep conversations to protests or more traditional advocacy. That is where I think I thrive, and where my gift for humanizing the “other,” for empathy, asking deep questions, the power of story and story telling, can be a light in the face of darkness.

I don’t always succeed. Many days I flail and fail. Some days I hang out at my rock bottom. But I endeavor. 

7. In our 2011 interview, you had mentioned that one day you hope to work with Director Matthew Warchus, act or sing opposite Audra McDonald, and be in the presence of John Adams. Have any of these come to fruition?

None. But I have new dreams now. 

8. What is the best advice you've given, but not taken for yourself?

“Don’t wash wool.”

9. What is something that you and your best friend like to do together?

Send texts and voicemails that begin the middle of an ever-on-going conversation. 

10. When you watch an episode of "The Golden Girls," the ladies would always solve their problems over cheesecake. If we were to sit down to Cheesecake:

* What problem of your own would you want to solve?
* What kind of cheesecake would we solve this problem over?

Ohhhh nothing huge just:
What in the heck shall I do with the time that has been returned to me post surgery, and that I blessedly have left on this earth?

Blueberry. 

11. What didn't we get to talk about in this interview that you'd like my audience to know about you?

I’m an introvert. 

 

Farewell, Ilia

Ilia. 

My Władek. 

I will miss you with my entire soul.  

 

What we built, created and shaped every day together as Marianna and Władek will stand out as the most unique partnership and subsequent creation of my career. It stands out like a rare, glimmering, inexplicably-created star.
 
Oh Ilia, we searched the entire world for you, and your preciousness was evident within seconds. (I’ll never forget after reading with you over Zoom, feeling that spark across the screen, then immediately calling our director Igor Golyak right away and saying “Can we keep him?!”)

I’m proud of you for prioritizing your health, and endeavor to share the exact same values. For without our health, we cannot hope to play another day.

But your absence leaves an Ilia-shaped hole in my, Marianna’s, and our entire class’s hearts, and while I will miss you with my entire being, your contributions, creation, character, and influence will be a part of this creation, and my heart, for eternity.

Forever waltzing with you,
Your Rachelka,
Al

X

All photographs: ©Jeremy Daniel

"Hallelujah"

© Michael Kushner

The great arti-vist Lauren Molina asked me to be a part of this incredible evening celebrating Equal Rights (with an all female band!) at 54 Below months ago. It’s always an honor to contribute my voice to the chorus crying out for peace, equity and freedom.

The world is in crisis, and I think about it privately far more than I discuss in internet spaces— partially because these spaces can be didactic and unforgiving of nuance, but equally because … there is sometimes simply nothing to BE said. 

I don’t exclusively adhere to the belief that silence ALWAYS equals violence. Sometimes silence is golden— because in that silence we can deeply listen and hear one another, our inner voices, and sometimes even the Divine.  

*

I’ve been so deeply "in the wilderness" recovering from surgery #4, that I'd put it entirely out of my mind that I'd (joyfully!) agreed to participate in the Equal Rights concert at 54 Below. Something that’s usually medium-fun (and can be medium-stressful).

I got there and …. Absolutely out of nowhere, I felt like something whispered to me

          “You must sing Leonard Cohen’s 'Hallelujah.'”

I’ve never sung it before. I didn’t really know the words. But a force was saying “do this.”

One of music’s greatest poets— the peerless prophet Leonard Cohen penned this in [my birth year] 1983, and “Hallelujah” has been lullaby, prayer and battle cry ever since, in countless voices. And although I joined this genius group of women to uplift my voice for the entire world, for me personally, this was a “cold a broken Hallelujah.” 

I’m emerging from another health miracle, experienced within a season of solitude— I am “a baffled King;” I am “beauty and moonlight” —all all all. I crawled to 54 below, not knowing what would emerge “from my lips” and what’s left of my guts… and surrounded by friends and strangers I was just: transported. It was like Gd (one I don’t always adhere to or believe in, the way we’re conventionally “supposed” to?) but — That Divine Force was with me. For sometimes songs are prayers indeed — and I felt a force move within me that whispered:

“Hey kid. You made it. Now sing. Now LIVE.”
 

Hallelujah.

“This world is full of conflicts and full of things that cannot be reconciled, but there are moments when we can transcend the dualistic system and reconcile and embrace the whole mess, and that’s what I mean by ‘Hallelujah. That regardless of what the impossibility of the situation is, there is a moment when you open your mouth and you throw open your arms and you embrace the thing and you just say, ‘Hallelujah!... The only moment that you can live here comfortably in these absolutely irreconcilable conflicts is in this moment when you embrace it all and you say, ‘Look, I don’t understand a thing at all—
Hallelujah!’ That’s the only moment that we live here fully as human beings.”

- Leonard Cohen

Phoenix Rising

Thank you to the brilliant, visionary, cheeky, and utterly fabulous Dustin Dale Barlow for having fun with me dressed in my favo(u)rite celebratory colo(u)r in the heart of New York’s Chinatown. 

He’s the real deal.
 
For an hour I felt like the very best of myself.

Rising like a phoenix from an artistically abundant, but privately quite challenging (but ultimately victorious) summer of health ups and downs. 

Oh friends. I realize I'm being a little cagey and secretive about my health right now. There is a huge energetic difference between things that are "secrets" and things that are "private." Secrets contain deception, shame, fears of being disconnected with. Private points to things that are personal, not embarrassing or shameful but belong to a select, intimate few. 

 

I have never wanted my experience with ulcerative colitis to be secretive and drenched in any kind of shame. But I often sit on new while I collect information-- and this particular era of my life there have been a lot of waiting, wondering, holding patterns and "no new developments."

 

So I just... got on with things. As I always do. 

 

I really wanted my surgical journey in 2021 to mean the end of me discussing illness ever again publicly OR privately— but c'est la vie. Life happens. 

We persevere. 

 

All to say: this 60 mins of artistry and playfulness and celebration was more than a treat or a “play date”— it was a victory. 

 

These glorious photos were was last Saturday

I was in surgery Wednesday. 

And I’m still rising — stronger than ever— on this Monday. 

On the other side of the latest chapter.

Onward.
Upward.
Ever-rising.
Inextinguishable.

Catherine: The Great

The great MamaSilbs left yesterday— after extending her trip slightly (because I wasn't 100%)

 

I want to take a moment to publicly thank Catherine Silber not only for, ya know, giving me life, and a lifetime of care, but for enduring so gracefully beside me. Truly: I have no personal experience that could ever instill within me the ability to fully empathize; to begin to imagine what she’s felt every day for the last few weeks (and frankly, years.)

 

Sure, she’s smoking-hot and has the horse power of 10 men, but she is also a widowed woman bearing witness to her only child going through all of this. 

She has done so with breath-taking valiance, capability and never-ending one liners.

 

 

We’ve shed a totally appropriate amount of tears over this (and many things) together, but the last two care-taking episodes (in NYC and previously in Chicago) both in the physical absence of Alec— have truly been world-class. 

 

Brava Cath. The only kid in American that loves their parent more vociferously is Gus Walz.

Standing ovation.  

Four encores. 

 

Now: where is the watermelon?

Things I like about Alec: a List

Alec is currently in Edinburgh for all of August, for the third year in a row. It’s been quite the year of time apart— we will really only been together in bursts of 3-14 days from March til September. It’s been tough, but a challenge we are more than capable of rising to— after all, our love was born of, and fostered within, long-distance. Plus, it is an incredible indicator of our mutual professional/artistic abundance this year. Yay abundance.

All that said? I freaking miss him. And wanted a chance to list a few things I love about him— large and small. I love Alec. And you know I love me a list. 

So. Without further ado

Alec:

- has a deep, deep love for theatre and will discuss it at length with anyone, any time, any place

 

- is always up for a walk on our "favorite streets," always (I mean always)

- is always up for a laugh, always (I mean always)

- has a deep, deep love for board games and will discuss them at length with anyone, any time, any place (even strangers… in line at the grocery store)

- has the actual kindest eyes that sparkle like diamonds when he smiles therefore reducing me to a drippy pool of goo

- wakes me every morning with a kiss on the forehead and the question “will you be mine today?”

- he tells me I'm pretty, even when it is abundantly obvious that "pretty" is not what is happening, lol

- quite charmingly, does not really care about “sportsball” but cares a great deal about fantasy football (and extra charmingly, he once asked me what the “symbol” on my Tigers baseball t-shirt was to my extraordinary delight. Don’t worry, Detroiters: I set him straight)

- makes an out-of-this world traditional stir fry (it is apparently very important to use day-old rice)

- makes an equally out-of-this-world egg of any variety

- is, was, and continues to be very supportive about my Jewishness in all its iterations and colors and shapes and never gets judgey or squeamish about the word “G-d” and is always up to try new things and learn new things with chutzpah

- loves board games more than any person I have ever, ever known. So much so that he texts his best friend henry out of absolutely nowhere to explain in detail a special move he made in a board game he played by himself, and though the boxes of games have taken over our entire 800 square foot home, it is worth it to see his glee.

- sends me pictures of Tati even when we are all in the same room

- is the biggest, most passionate, most genuinely enthusiastic cheerleader to everyone he loves without a scrap of comparison or envy or anything other than astonishing genuine enthusiasm and celebration. 

 

- really hates to be wet (and will avoid activities with the excuse ".........sounds wet")

- puts so much love into the dinners he makes us, I swear I can taste the actual love like it is an additional spice

- is a bonafide master at playlist compilation assemblage AND naming (I'm telling you his skill level in this arena is wholly unmatched)

- is just so good— and I mean so, so staggeringly good— at being a Cat Dad

- is very very brave about his big big feelings

- truly appreciates when we go to a musical and I explain in staggering Wikipedia-like detail the entire history of the musical 5 minutes before it begins.

- takes longer than anyone I have ever known to hang something on a wall. A mirror, a frame. A hanging plant— my Gd. I bet he breaks records for  h o w  f r e a k i n g  l o n g  it takes him to hang a thing. Bless him. But it’s always straight as hell.

- knows that my favorite flowers are ranunculus and when he cannot buy me an actual ranunculus, sends me photos of them “just because”

- will pull over (in a nanosecond) to do something fun

- teaches me every single day (without being a jerk about it) about how to expand my thinking, empathy and capacity to connect with humanity, and also encourages people to be their very highest selves.

- is not afraid of taking giant, big, scary leaps into the unknown

- has *that* gene where he is incredibly good with little kids (and it isn’t put on, or dumbed down— just a genuine joy spent playing) 

- kisses like whoa

- will drop whatever he is doing when you tell him you are feeling down and do whatever it takes to ease the moment (sometimes that includes telling a story, sometimes a distraction, and sometimes just holding you in silence)

Things I am Leaving Behind Me, Right Now: a List

• things that no longer serve my highest self.
• worrying what others think.
• [within the reasonable realm of responsibilities] anyone/anything that doesn't promote inner peace.
• comparing myself to other people, in any manner.
  
• stressing about things I cannot change.
• worrying about unchangeable events that happened in the past.
• saying 'yes' when I really want to say 'no.'
• not prioritizing the things that truly matter.
• doubting my abilities, resilience, strength, courage, intelligence, or capabilities
• believing I don’t deserve things.
• holding on to past mistakes and defining myself by them for eternity.
• being hesitant to step into my authentic self.
• second-guessing 
•  procrastinating. 
• fetishizing having "less" needs
• not being fully present. 
• doom-scrolling 
• grudge-holding
  
• overthinking. rumination. obsessive thoughts.
• taking on more than I know I can give myself to, fully.
  

 

©Nick Bantock

 

Together again.

Alec is home. 

 

Since I left (for Chicago, in March) we've only shared a handful of days together-- 

5 days. 

12 Days. 

9 days. 

7 days. 

Here and there.

 

One handful in New York. 

Then Chicago.

Another in Sacramento. 

Back and forth. 

There and back again.

But too few here, in our beloved "Winter Palace" as a whole family with Tati.

 

He's back for 14 precious days before going away again (for his third annual August trip to Scotland, for the Edinburgh Fringe). 

 

When we first got together we courted long-distance with letters and phone calls and FaceTime and texting. It never felt like a chore to communicate. Remaining connected always felt natural and easy, in many ways pleasurable; and the love did thrive between Chicago and New York. We saw one another every three weeks or so (we learned that was the "max" pretty early on), learning that after the 21-day mark we became out of sync, forgot little things, became accustomed to solitude. 

Then the pandemic. Hyper-closeness. We were thrown together in 750 square feet and as two introverts perfectly suited to one another? We thrived where many suffered (and never to be forgotten: many did not literally survive).

All of that is to say: this is hard. But I acknowledge that, in a way, we are "victims" of our collective artistic abundance, the price of a life in art, can be sacrifices like this. 

 

So here is to soaking up these summer days in the glow of my love. 

 

And then one more Scottish separation before a fall together.

 

Home stretch, my love. 

Bon voyage. 

"Return to sender. With consciousness attached."

Admission: I'm embarrassed about something.
 

Over the last few months I've allowed someone (who doesn't know me at all) to profoundly affect my self worth. Let me be clear: I let this happen.

I (think?) they passed judgement swiftly and harshly, and I absolutely allowed it to mentally and physically somewhat destroy me.

 

I can only assume they were jealous(?) I'll never know for sure.
They barely know me, and never communicated their feelings directly.

But whoa Nellie was it agonizing, and despite the agony of it all? I learned a lot. So rather than wallow, before I move on, I wanna share the lessons. Here is what I've discovered and re-discovered:


I. "Comparison is the Thief of Joy" 

Theodore Roosevelt had it right.  The more we focus on our own growth, the less we despair at what others have, and where others are in their individual journey.
 

Their success is nothing more than a perception.


2. Hoping for the "failure" of others does not make anyone a "winner."

Period.

 

3. Envy versus Jealousy

Social psychologist and best selling author Dr. Brené Brown defines the differences between jealousy and envy thus:

• ENVY occurs when we want something that another person has.
Envy can come with hostility: 

"I want that, and I don't want you to have it." 

"I also want you to be pulled down and put down."

• JEALOUSY: is when we fear losing a relationship or a part of a valued relationship that we already have.

She goes on to explain that it doesn't appear to be a singular emotion, 

but rather a toxic mashup of ANGER, SADNESS and FEAR—no wonder it packs a gut punch

 

4. Take responsibility for YOUR thoughts. 

Gosh this one is SO. HARD.

 

We must NOT give up our power to another person's emotions, POV thoughts or completely fabricated stories composed about us— founded or un. To quote Dr. Wayne Dyer: "what other people think of me is none of my business."

Another person's view of you is not your problem. (Okay okay: maybe if that person is an Autocrat who sends you to a prison camp for disagreeing with them...but EVEN THEN—your thoughts are your own)
But it sure as anything can become your problem—if you allow it.

 

5. Wow. We REALLY hate women.
And women? Let's not be part of the problem, shall we?
 

I am so deeply committed to the pure, unadulterated, obsessive, song wielding, mantra-chanting uplifting of other women.
 

It is one of my missions. I try to spread uplift and light and affirmation and the fortification of every person I meet, wherever I go. ESPECIALLY OF OTHER WOMEN.
 

I OWN that I experience envy like anyone else! But I always try to get real with myself about it, and take pains never to punish the object of my envy. I know the universe is an abundant place.
Further, I feel extraordinary gratitude to the women in my life who celebrate all of that with me. Finally,

 

6. Everyone is fighting a silent battle. Be kind.
Whenever I raged at the unfairness of how I thought I was being treated and perceived behind the scenes, I tried to soften, and remember that everyone has a silent battle we know nothing about.
 

I wish this same grace had been extended to me.

Sometimes we assume someone "has it all" or has bad, malicious or manipulative intentions. That CAN be true, but more often than not, someone's behavior is stemming from something that has nothing to do with us.

It's a tough world out there—doom-scrolling, hustle culture, the pressures for people to be "it all" from successes, to parents, to perfectly beautiful, to strong (but not too strong). Then there's mental health, family and social pressures, internal expectations; fighting to be a good parent, partner, friend; fighting for justice, fighting to stay in shape, fighting to cook more often and eat out stress, fighting against the behaviors of those who make us feel weak, purposeless, and sad. Fighting abuse, fighting to put yourself out there, fighting for love.

Fighting to be who we are.
So. Much. Fighting.
 

Be kind.

 

*

 

So here I am: makeup-free but sexy as hell, without a colon, or a functional womb; my 20s and 30s behind me, and truly so grateful to be reclaiming my lost time. This is me after a helluva cathartic cry, flushed of this experienced, ready to truly let this go:

 

I don't have it all figured out, but I can say with my whole heart:

I genuinely wish this person every possible wave of inner peace, contentment, success, happiness, abundance; 

and above all? I wish them the awareness to go forth with as many lessons from the last few months as I gained from the energy they sent my way. "Return to sender. With consciousness attached."

 

 

As always:

Onwards with courage and integrity.

Alec & 'The Newlywed Game"

Beloved, singular and spectacular Alec, O, the utter elation of being yours — of sharing this life, and playing the best role ever: of Biggest Hype Woman. It is an honor to spend my days uplifting your every triumph and expansion as an artist and human being. 

The last few years you have achieved things as an artist (within a worldwide pandemic!) that filled me with awe. 

This is no exception.

Congratulations on a magnificent world premiere of The Newlywed Game at B Street Theatre; but also on your return to ONstage leadership, being funny as hell, and? on looking hot AF in a suit. It is such an abject joy to see you shine.

But, it is an even greater satisfaction to bear witness to how your friends and colleagues regard you as a person — that they celebrate the goodness of your person-hood and integrity of character. How lucky we all are to have a world with Alec Silver in it— on stage and off.

The last eleven weeks have been challenging in so many ways— but never challenged US. The distance is, in every way, merely evidence of our mutual Silb/ver Family artistic flourishing! And despite the distance we have remained so full of trust, valedictorians in AP Communication, and so emotionally close. For our love was born of long-distance loving, and our connection has been ever-present despite the miles. What a gift.

Congratulations, my love. 

On ALL of it. 

Mazel tov, felicidades, 恭喜 

 

"Goodnight... goodnight..."

@aka_lizlauren

Farewell, Marian Paroo and The Music Man in Chicago.

The most glorious part: creating a new Marian Paroo in tandem with my "whyfe" Katie Spelman-- my favorite contemporary artistic collaborator. It has been a dream, a career highlight, and the definition of platonic intimacy. Katie, along with our peerless female-led creative team Kim Hudman + Laura Rook, not to mention 37 world-class performers. The professionalism of every contributor has made this one of the great artistic experiences of my career, and I’m so proud of what we all made together.

It must be mentioned that sharing the journey of Marian and Harold opposite KJ Hippensteel's Harold Hill— the best I’ve ever seen in the role for reasons I’ve expressed now countless times. 

 

KJ, our creation is a work of art, and I’m proud that it has deepened and enriched over the weeks in ways actors can only dream of. In addition, we’ve never wavered from our shared commitment to telling it honestly, no matter what; a testament to our shared professionalism and love of the work. Thank you. It’s been an honor to tell this story together.

I’ve made some lifelong friends and theatrical chosen family, I’ve conquered so many of my singing demons and felt in my cells once again what I thought was the lost sensation of truly soaring on stage in a musical again. I flew— and it was even more precious because after the last decade or so, I know what it means to fall.

Almost everything has been a total dream.

Yet, being honest, there have been parts of this experience that have been both socially and physically agonizing. I won't go in to detail here, first of all because I am a lady (I have never used this space for idle muckraking), and second because none of the thoughts and feelings are fully identified or organized, and I have learned to only offer reflections in a vaguely public space such as this once experiences are truly processed. Suffice it to say: I’m grateful for the lessons and look forward to ever-more calming of my nervous system. 

 

For although I passionately love this role, adore so many in this company, and revere this gorgeous work of art we all created, I am ready to return home. I look forward to returning to an environment where I feel fully understood, where what I offer as a friend, colleague and human being is deeply valued, respected, and above all: the goodness of my intentions are never doubted or maligned. I know I shall never scramble to prove my worth again, for if we find ourselves trying to prove our worth to others who do not see or value it? We have already forgotten our own value.

Marian and this contract have taught me:

- communicate.
- don’t make assumptions.
- trust.
- love abundantly— without apology.
- and tell people what they mean to you—for our trip on earth is brief.

And so:

“Goodnight… goodnight…”

@aka_lizlauren

Wonderstudies

Understudying and swinging is one of the hardest jobs in all of show-business, and although we've had a renaissance of uplifting these performers in a post COVID world, don't be fooled: we still don't give them anything close to what they deserve.

A role in a specific production is not "mine" — to be stingy with. I prefer to think of my primary duty as being to the character herself— and to serve her as best I can. More often than not that means coming to work and doing what I know I'm on earth to do. 

But if I am not capable of serving? Or for some reason require rest and respite to continue effectively serving? Than the way to truly serve is to allow the other members of The Team do just that. 

It's an honor to be on Team Marian with Christine-- it's been an honor my entire career to work with every teammate serving these women I've had the honor to portray. 

You all know who you are.

Some of you are my very best friends. 

After all: what else are we doing on earth if not uplifting one another? 

Here's to Teamwork.

"There was love, all around..."

©aka liz lauren

“There was love all around, but I never heard it singing…”

One of the things I adore—and have truly learned—in the playing of this classic song (‘Til There Was You’) is the humble admission of something I know all too well (because I personally did it for years):

That, as individuals who desire to love and be loved, sometimes we participate in our own solitude. 

We perpetuate it by keeping the world at a safe distance. We think that a world kept at arms length cannot hurt us. But that isn’t how it works. A heart sealed in an airtight box does change— just not with scars or wounds. It calcifies and hardens.

For Marian— a woman who has an almost rigid rigor for upholding the 'absolute truth' — I think this line in this song is Marian’s greatest moment of vulnerability.

To fully admit (in song)—that despite all her research, her knowledge OF love stories, poetry and BALZAC— she didn’t just miss something, she missed everything. She missed the point of all of it: love “all around” her.

And she missed it not because of town gossip, or grief, or the lack of a suitable partner in the area,— she missed it because her own rigid walls were built up and buttressed so high that she almost tossed love aside even when it was right in front of her.

I relate.

And I celebrate her humility and admission because it is, in every way, my own.

Maybe it’s yours too.

(And I thank —infinitely— the love of my life, my beloved Alec, for patiently standing before me until the walls came down)

May you be brave enough to see the love all around you, whenever you are ready to fully receive it.

Love on.

© Marian at sunset by @brave.lux - What a dream it is.

Janet: No People Like Show People

photo by @kulpy

Mama. 

Roomie. 

Legend. 

Emotional support animal 

and new Chicago bestie. 

Let’s hear it for JANET. ULRICH. BROOKS. 

 

You know? In the Business of Show it certainly isn’t the career volatility, or the total artistic unpredictability that *gets us going.* And it isn’t living far from home, or the job security; and it definitely isn’t the TENS of dollars we make for the privilege of dedicating our life to art. 

 It’s all about the PEOPLE WE SHARE IT WITH.

The honor of sharing this experience with the legendary talent that is Janet Ulrich Brooks has been more than a joy— in fact there aren’t words for all it has been, and you all know I’m very rarely speechless.

To my stage Mama— 'Widda Paroo,' talent beyond, 

and now dear, 

fiercely loyal, 

infinitely reciprocal, 

unimaginably generous, 

ambulance-calling, 

tradition-upholding,

 laugh-out-louding, 

make-your-own-kinda-music-singing, 

new Friend-with-a-capital-F:

     I love you beyond.

Thank you for allowing me to love you out loud.

You’re stuck with me forever.

photo by @kulpy

Making Marian with Katie

Doing The Music Man in Chicago has been a great blessing to and for me, and a great break from the dark dark plays I've engaged with over the last few years. 

There have been SO many revelations—many that have occurred, artistic and personal—some simply because I am spending so much time outside of work by myself, in contemplation). Which, though I miss Alec and Tati terribly, is always fruitful for me. I am an introverted being after all. Solitude always seems to “force” something to the surface, outward, forward. 



It’s a fantastic room, and it’s profound to work with such a close friend

Katie Spelman as director/choreographer because I know she trusts me utterly. 

Katie is one of my best friends-- and, compared to some of my lifelong friendships-- she is a relatively new best friend; one I've made in the last 5 years. Something about that feels special. It's challenging to make friends in adulthood, particularly with fellow women (many of whom pair off and have children in this era of life-- so friend groups break apart and re-assemble around those choices through no "fault"). It's been an expansive relationship in every way.

Katie has visionary ideas but also encourages other great ideas and creates an environment where people can express them with ease. She is passionate but not rigid. She IS visionary — especially in the storytelling-through-dance part. 

But I’ll say the most beautiful thing I've experienced here is a kind of intimacy that I never expected — a feeling of closeness with Katie because we both sort of understand that in many ways I am playing a version of me, but more crucially a version of her. She is Marian at the top of the show, and I am Marian at the end. And together, we are weaving this new vision of Marian together. It's an act of total mutual creation and it feels sacred in its intensity and intimacy.
 

*

    We had an almost inexplicable moment of platonic intimacy the other day in rehearsal discussing the (beautiful, underestimated, gorgeous piece of theatre I utterly underestimated) second act scene when Harold Hill comes to call at Marian's house, and eventually invites Marian to "the footbridge."
 

There was a moment the other day when Katie was begging to cut the line “My dear little librarian…” 

And I took paused. Took a beat. First of all, it’s not my line (it is Harold's), but the ferocity of her passion for cutting it made me pause. I asked what bothered her about it. She said she thought it was "demeaning and diminutive and not Feminist." Despite her intellectualizing, I could see her emotion just below the surface. I love this person. I know her. This was a moment of Knowing.

I asked for a quick 5. 

It was time anyway, but it felt like a good moment to pause. Katie is a 37-year-old woman who if she had her choice, would have a significant life partner. She has some walls (who doesn't?), and it IS hard for her to find a worthy partner because she’s extra, extra extraordinary. But she’s also part of the problem. A problem I know and relate to very well. Because it is a problem I had myself… 

 

For years and years I was unavailable to real partnership and to the real reception of love because I was overwhelmed by childhood trauma, grief and self-loathing, then by illness -- and all of those contributed to the story that "no one could possibly want to love me." But the problem was not that I was unlovable— it was the fact that I believed I was. And with the belief so deeply rooted within my cells, in every action I took that I almost missed it standing right in front of me.

 

For in 2019, Alec Silver was RIGHT THERE. He was standing before me, totally in love with me, with MY EXACT F*CKING NAME

… and I almost missed him. Because of my stories. My insistence on my unloveability. I almost missed and blew the greatest gift of my life  because of my walls and fears. 

 

And this brings me to my next point— the line 
:

“I just can't. Please. Some other time, maybe tomorrow...” 



 

which oddly is the line before the “my dear little librarian” line. 

 

 

I cannot tell you how much this line shakes my soul.

Because again, Alec. And why I had to play this role after Alec.

Because love is right there.

Harold Hill is man making an actual bid to connect with Marian. He is, shockingly, truly worthy of her. They are both as lonely and broken and intelligent and isolated as one another, they both need each other. 

He is saying “please meet me— not just at the footbridge but in a place of intimate love” 

and she says “maybe tomorrow”

That was me.
Until Alec. 

"There was love all around, but I never heard it singing..."



So we broke, and I took her aside in private:
 

     “Katie… my whYfe. One of my very best friends. Part of Marian’s agony is that she is capable of so much love and passion, but her years and years of walls are preventing her from allowing herself to BE loved. And sometimes that allowance looks “soft” and “tender” and “feminine”…. none of that is negative. None of that is anti-feminist. Let’s try the line as a man who is making a bid to be soft with her. Who sees she needs softness. And then we can allow this woman who is terrified of being seen as 'girly' because she thinks it means she is weak... to be a creature of desire and of being desirED. And I think you’ll see it’s right. 
And to allow ourselves to be vulnerable is also the key to all of our liberation… when we’re ready”

Afterwards someone asked:    

         “What was that?” 



        And I replied: “That was love”