Off the Grind...

I have retreated a bit from the grind. The grind is what I call the ever-present need to keep getting work in front of people, to keep my name out there, to try to move the ball that is my career further down the field ( a very crowded, continually difficult, and perpetually younger field).

I am now nearly a year into my 40s and my wife and I are expecting our first kiddo this coming winter. I feel a change in my perspective, a shifting in my outlook and ambitions. I look back on the last 25 years of making theatre and realize I have accomplished some of the things that I really wanted, some things I thought I really wanted and a lot of just wheel-spinning achievements that ultimately didn't really move me very far in the direction I wanted to go.

And part of that dilemma is that I never really settled on what direction I actually wanted to go.

Starting out I just wanted to do. I wanted to make stuff, particularly theatre, of any kind, as most young artists do. Then, after some time, I wanted to see what I could pull off. I pushed hard against the limits of myself. The trick wasn't to do something of super high quality or of super high originality, but just to do it. To actually pull it off.

As I began to develop an original voice and explore different directions my artistic bent would take me, I leaned towards things I began to wear as badges of identity... solo performance, weird plays with kitsch factors, long-form improv.

Since the new year, I have produced two projects. I co-wrote (with my friend Jeff), designed, directed and produced a full-length play called NIGHT OF THE TARANTUBEARS. It ran for two weekends, had a great cast of actors that I genuinely enjoyed working with, was reviewed by one media source (positively) and was seen by very few people. It will probably not go anywhere. The other project this past June was the 3rd Annual Dallas Solo Fest. I brought in eight solo performers from around the country showcasing a variety of different kinds of one-person shows. It was marginally successful. Some shows kicked ass, some not so much. It had a solid opening weekend and then a pretty over-looked second weekend. It lost money. I will do it again next year... mostly out of spite. I refuse to end the DSF on a note of semi-failure.

As far as the amount of activity I have turned out, on average, year after year for the last two decades, this past year has been paltry. Paultry in the extreme.

I have one 90% finished play I wrote last year that was commissioned by a local theatre. I pulled it after the first few production meetings. It was too big for the organization, which was partly my fault for not keeping the scope of the organization in mind and partly their fault for not having their shit together. I don't know quite what to do with the play (except, you know, fine tune it and do some readings somewhere). I think about producing it myself for my small company Audacity, but I fear another world-premiere being overlooked again (i.e. in playwriting circles this means "wasted").

This summer I completed two other plays. I attended a writing retreat and worked up a full-length reboot of the first play I ever wrote, a one-act from 1996 called ARSENIC & ROSES (this new version doesn't have a name yet). It, too, is about 90% complete. Again, I'm not sure what to do with it. The other play is a ten-minute piece for a collection of holiday shows a tiny theatre group does every year. I've had a piece presented in it for the last three years. It is a fun, easy, low-stakes thing. There's a chance it won't be selected this year, but I hope it is.

I have two ideas that I will develop into works for the stage percolating in my brain. One a solo piece and the other a contemporary full-length tragedy. The tragedy has the potential to be part of the New Play Circuit, since it will tackle race, class, and other social-economic things that theatres seem to salivate over nowadays. It might be great or it might be crap. If it is great, it may put me on the map, or it might just be another in a long line of things I create that make absolutely no impact on the larger cultural landscape. 

This raises the question: do I want to be part of the larger cultural landscape? I have been playing the "maverick theatre artist" so long, I can't even see the cultural mainstream any longer. I can't see why it is valuable, why I should go after it. 

The thing is, I can't see any growth on the indie level any longer. I have practically self-exiled myself away from the bigger game. I have the chops now and the knowledge of my craft, but I'm tired of making things that make no ripples. But without getting in the game at all, I'm just that guy who "used to do stuff." 

I'll just be on the sidelines, with all my chops and knowledge, not even using it.

I wish I knew what other theatres artists did, particularly playwrights. How and why they decided to enter the arena of American Theatre. Was that the goal, or was it a stepping stone to ultimately being a show runner for television? How'd they get an agent? How'd they get into residencies? Did they all go to Yale or Brown or Columbia? Did they all do the route of South Coast Rep, Playwrights Horizons, New Dramtists and so on? If so, how'd they get on that route?

Most of all, I'd wanna ask them, was it fulfilling? Did adding plays to the world, even if they are done Off-Broadway, Regionally or even on Broadway itself (they still do that, right?), did it give them the feeling that they were actually making a difference?

I can't tell anymore.

So, I'm taking this time to reflect, to settle under myself, to reformulate what I want to do in the theatre. What direction do I want to go? 

I can't stay where I am.

I'm sure I'll get restless again. I'll get that itch to create, to get out there. I'll jump back into the grind. Until then, Imma just gonna try to figure some stuff out...

Esquire's Life of Man

To commemorate its 80th anniversary, Esquire is creating a living portrait of the American man, ages one through 80. Here's my submission...

Brad McEntire

Born 1975

South West

Entertainment, performing, and fine arts

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My story...

I write plays. Draw things. Perform stuff. Married a great gal. Like adventures - the inside ones and outside ones.

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The best advice ever received...

Fight to stay excited

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I'm most looking forward to...

My second act

Also see it... HERE

Comportment Counts

Mr. Samuel Beckett was a gentleman

A while back I posted about a spirited conversation I had with a friend of mine. We were discussing our differing views on how to handle the press and how critics and journalists can be used to grow audiences.

There were many other aspects to developing audiences that the conversation made me think about that I did not touch on in that post. As corollary to that post, I wanted to say a few words about behaving nicely and how this can affect audience development.

I believe audiences are affected, especially in regards to growth and retention, by the deportment of the artist. How one behaves in daily life to others, including prospective audience members, really does affect how the work is perceived on stage. 

It is similar to the Girl-On-Stage theory. The Girl-On-Stage is a pet theory I have developed to describe the sensation of being seriously drawn, beguiled or attracted to a character one sees onstage only to later find out, in the harsh light of real life, that the actor that portrayed her is absolutely nothing like that.

Irrationally, perhaps, it is often a let-down...

I know several actors who are very skilled and, in some instances, absolutely amazing to watch onstage. But in daily life they are rather deplorable. Sometimes it is insecurity (hard to believe, but insecurity is a big driving force behind many dramatic artists getting into the theatre to begin with) or maybe social awkwardness. But most of the time, the actor is just plain rude. A total jerk...

I wonder if they would have quite the same reputation in the press and amongst their fan base if audiences and critics observed them behaving so indiscreetly and inconsiderately in real life.

Over the years I have had the privilege on several occassions to personally meet artists whose work I first discovered and then admired from afar. What has struck me most often is how they came off when not on the stage. Sometimes they turned out to be quite gentlemanly. They conducted themselves in public–as in meeting strangers like myself–with consideration, amiability, and open-mindedness. 

Of course, I have also had the opposite experience. Meeting  artists whose work I’ve admired, then discovering them to be personally arrogant, crude, and discourteous. This is sometimes a surprising turn, especially since their work on stage is often sensitive and graceful. I remember meeting one rather well-known monologuist, powerful and artful on stage, in person and he turned out to be quite dismissive and stand-offish.

Sometimes, when I return to their work later after these personal interactions, I’ve found it to be more flawed, more uneven than before–testimony, perhaps, to the presence of the artist, or the person, in the art. Maybe I'm just subconsciously on the look-out for things to bring the work of unpleasant people down a few pegs.

And I think this urge is at the root of how personal behavior affects an artist's relationship with his or her audiences. Patrons, I believe, like to relate with the artist just as much, if not more so, than to the art itself. We are social creatures. I always feel closer to the art if I feel I know something about the artists. And if I like the artist involved, I root for the art. I am more receptive. If I do not like the artist, I usually don't even bother with the art. In these instances, the artist has become his or her own gate-keeper and has barred the way for me as a potential patron.

One of the playwrights of history I admire a great deal is Irishman Samuel Beckett. There is an infamous anecdote about the writer of Waiting for Godot while he was living in Paris in early 1938. While refusing the solicitations of a notorious pimp, who ironically went by the name of Prudent, Beckett was stabbed in the chest and nearly died. James Joyce arranged a private room for the injured Beckett at the hospital. The publicity surrounding the stabbing attracted the attention of Suzanne Dechevaux-Dumesnil, who knew Beckett slightly from his first stay in Paris; this time, however, the two would begin a lifelong companionship culminating in marriage. At a preliminary hearing, Beckett asked his attacker for the motive behind the stabbing. Prudent casually replied, “Je ne sais pas, Monsieur. Je m’excuse” (“I do not know, sir. I’m sorry”). Beckett occasionally recounted the incident in jest, and eventually dropped the charges against his attacker—partially to avoid further formalities, but also, and this is the part I find so wonderful, because he found Prudent to be personally likeable and well-mannered.

When he became more and more famous, Beckett rarely granted interviews. He did not chase the press and, really, to a large extent ignored it. He was at the center of his work and did not look outward for critical approval or affirmation from the press. While Beckett did not devote much time to press and interviews, he would still sometimes personally meet the artists, scholars, and admirers who sought him out in the anonymous lobby of the Hotel PLM St. Jacques in Paris near his Montparnasse home. 

I am reminded of a recent biography I read of playwright Samuel Beckett. Often looked upon as a recluse, or a cranky, withdrawn, curmudgeonly perfectionist, the biography allows us access to Beckett’s more personable, everyday self. His reputation as an unpleasant grouch is mostly rumor. The single most obvious quality of the man that emerges is the Beckett’s gentlemanliness. The same considerate and compassionate attitudes that Beckett demonstrated to both friends and strangers, I believe, are mirrored in the consideration and compassion that Beckett shows for the characters in his plays and books–indeed, for his attitude towards the world itself and its inhabitants of all backgrounds. 

It goes without saying that the work itself must engage and be of good quality, but an artist can seriously hamstring his or herself by being a jerk-face in the real world. Gentlemanly attitude and comportment go a long way.

St. Germain Gin and Tonic

I dabble in mixology. For a few straight summers I adopted a different "signature" cocktail and made it a point to practice making it until I was good at it. I'm not a bartender and I don't come home and make cocktails every day (well, maybe once or twice a week...), but I enjoy a good drink. There was the summer of Colorado Bulldogs, the summer of Sweet Manhattans, the summer of the Dark and Stormy, and so on.

Lately, I've been on the look out for something I can use St. Germain in. St. Germain is a liqour made with elderflower blossoms and it is sold in a flat-out-awesome bottle.

Today, I believe I've stumbled upon a winner...

St. Germain Gin and Tonic

1½parts Gin
½ part St. Germain
3 parts Tonic Water

Combine all ingredients in a tall ice-filled Collins glass and stir. Garnish with lime wedge. Enjoy. Can also substitute lemon wedge for lime, if you're feeling tenacious...

Also, though I haven't tried it yet, here's another St. Germain cocktail that looks worth exploring... HERE.


 

"A master in the art of living draws no sharp distinction between his work and his play; his labor and his leisure; his mind and his body; his education and his recreation. He hardly knows which is which. He simply pursues his vision of excellence through whatever he is doing, and leaves others to determine whether he is working or playing. To himself, he always appears to be doing both.

~ J. P. Jacks, Education Through Recreation (1932)

[via Austin Kleon's Tumblr] 

 

Drawing with Kylie

[click on images above to see them bigger]

One of the things I enjoy when spending time with my niece Kylie is drawing together. The details change from time to time, but usually we end up doing one of two things...

We take turns drawing what the other suggests. Kylie says draw a cat and I draw a cat. Then I hand the pad to her and I say draw a truck and she draws a cat.

The other thing we do is draw maps together. We draw together and come up with what we meet along the route and where the map goes. Often, we then follow the map around the house, acting out not stepping in lava by hopping from couch cushion to couch cushion. Or we must "swim" from counter top to chair and so on.

Here's the deal. Drawing is our thing. She doesn't draw with anyone else. Others have to make up dances and read out loud and make cookies from mix. But we draw. That's how we play. And I like it.

Easter sketches for Kylie

I spent Easter Sunday with my family. My six-year-old niece Kylie hunted Easter eggs and had me draw pictures for her. Here's some Easter drawings.

The Nervous "Easter" Squid

The ernstwhile "Easter" robot

Making stew

I don't cook. Not really. I mean, I can make grilled cheese sandwiches and scrambled eggs and turkey burgers. I usually never attempt anything drastic or too extensive. Until now...

In an effort to improve my eating habits (which is part of a larger Getting-My-Act-Together protocol) I looked up a recipe online for "detox soup." My plan was to make the soup, eat it for about three days, kinda priming the pump for good nutrition, then switch to Tim Ferriss's Slow-Carb concept, which I have tried in the past.

The soup came out really well. I'm calling it stew since it reminds me of my mom's beef vegetable stew, sans the beef ('cause now I'm married to a vegetarian, so things are even a bit more healthy)...

Here's what I did:

- 4 quarts of filtered water
- 1/2 a head of cabbage
- 4 chopped carrots
- 4 chopped celery
- a bunch of chopped green onions
- 1/3 bunch of parsley
- 1/2 clove of garlic
- 1/4 pound of spinach
- 1/2 cup of mushrooms
- 4 Massel brand imitation Chicken bouillion cubes
- 2 15 oz. cans of chopped tomatoes
- salt and pepper to taste

1. Chop up everything.
2. Add cabbage and water into a big pot. Bring to a boil then simmer for one hour.
3. Add everything but the chopped tomato. Simmer one more hour.
4. Add tomatoes and let simmer one more hour.

Eat for days.

Halloween Greetings

Didn't dress up much this year, but here's a pic from last year. I went as my comic character, Donnie Rocket Toaster-Face.