My response to this last PB show I attended felt all over the place—from the ping of recognition when Bill described the way the “whole world was choreographed” as he drove along listening to Beethoven’s 7th, to the pang of sorrow when Simone spoke of learning of a special needs child who was restrained for the teacher’s convenience, to my wince as my husband narrated the mutual avoidance of him and his former U of M student whose name he couldn’t recall—and who probably couldn’t recall his. But in its refusal to hew to one obvious course or theme, this evening at Playback showed the fiction of coherence shattered again and again only to be revived at the strangest moments and in the strangest ways.
An African-American student leader, seeking help with a problem with some committee members, had been told that she was “unrelatable” by another black student; according to this adviser, she wasn’t “black enough” because her background as a “military brat” had exposed her to so many different ways of life. Virginia asked what her plan was, and her answer, “seek to understand them as people, not as constituents,” seemed preternaturally wise.
A social worker described seeing people building their families through interracial adoptions, saying “this could change the face of Memphis.”
Julie told about her husband's belch in response to a romantic-minded friend who asked her what is was like being married to an artist. This devolved into hilarious Playback built around “the musk of an artist.”
The student whose groceries were stolen by a fellow shopper from Wisconsin, then had them replaced by the cashier, yields a playback with Portia flying free and Josh muttering “I can’t do this…”
In the break before the big story, I talked to a woman who had met with two traumas here—in one, her partner was beaten with a pole—and said, “I hate Memphis.” But then she backed off. “I’ve had bad luck.”
In the playback of Leah’s story of having to turn away the knock at the door she’s been hoping to hear, Ondine’s commanding “tick, tock,” transformed into the voice of guilt: “I don’t think they believe you… you ought to be ashamed of yourself…”
The wonder of it is that I feel the weight of so much conflict lifting with every tick, tock.
Monday, February 22, 2010
Tuesday, February 16, 2010
February is for lovers
“The more you love Memphis, the more it will love you back.”
- Joe
A young man with long, windswept curls remembers a time that downtown Memphis was his. His to park freely. His to roam. A downtown of empty, abandoned buildings where he could run and explore and yell and no one would be the wiser.
He’s all for the community embracing the downtown that was once his, for the loft apartments blossoming from the empty factory shells, for the lack of parking spaces. But he’s a little sad his landscape is changing.
* * *
There is a woman in Northhaven who is afraid to go outside. The very name of her neighborhood is now a bitter irony. Gunshots ring out at night. Shadowy figures are her nameless, faceless neighbors. Across town, residents in a duplex apartment should maybe be a bit more concerned about going outside. A woman’s boyfriend goes missing but later reports that the next door neighbor was awfully understanding when he climbed into bed with her by mistake.
* * *
Chris was done trying to find Miss Right in Memphis. The dating scene was a game of chasing magnets; you push one harder only to have the other just scoot farther away. The California desert seemed right. Not about finding HER, exactly. More about finding himself. But he noticed the blonde at the seminar almost immediately. Her open smile, the things she claimed were most important to her. It was like she was talking about his values, too. Their small group got even smaller. She told him she was from Jackson, a place he never would have heard of just outside of Memphis.
Chris’ wife beamed at him from her seat in the front row.
- Joe
A young man with long, windswept curls remembers a time that downtown Memphis was his. His to park freely. His to roam. A downtown of empty, abandoned buildings where he could run and explore and yell and no one would be the wiser.
He’s all for the community embracing the downtown that was once his, for the loft apartments blossoming from the empty factory shells, for the lack of parking spaces. But he’s a little sad his landscape is changing.
* * *
There is a woman in Northhaven who is afraid to go outside. The very name of her neighborhood is now a bitter irony. Gunshots ring out at night. Shadowy figures are her nameless, faceless neighbors. Across town, residents in a duplex apartment should maybe be a bit more concerned about going outside. A woman’s boyfriend goes missing but later reports that the next door neighbor was awfully understanding when he climbed into bed with her by mistake.
* * *
Chris was done trying to find Miss Right in Memphis. The dating scene was a game of chasing magnets; you push one harder only to have the other just scoot farther away. The California desert seemed right. Not about finding HER, exactly. More about finding himself. But he noticed the blonde at the seminar almost immediately. Her open smile, the things she claimed were most important to her. It was like she was talking about his values, too. Their small group got even smaller. She told him she was from Jackson, a place he never would have heard of just outside of Memphis.
Chris’ wife beamed at him from her seat in the front row.
Thursday, February 11, 2010
Afterthoughts from February shows
So we had an amazing turn out to the shows this go round.People continue to voice a deep appreciation for Playback. They talk about the magic of it, how it invites you to see things anew, makes you feel you're part of something bigger then yourself,that it honors joy and tenderness with equal reverence,and turns things inside out and back again leaving you feeling more alive then before.
It feels like a big wave of energy has built and we can now enjoy the ride without feeling like we have to push so hard. I am amazed by how the ensemble work is growing and deepening and we are working hard to prepare ourselves for playing in contexts where the stories will be deeper,the content heavier, the need to tell and be heard much greater. I know we all feel the experience is a tremendous gift and blessing, that we are growing with it. I am trying to track themes that are emerging- in Playback we call them red threads - with the hope that they will guide me towards what is needed at the next show and in the bigger picture. I have sketched this out here loosely- I'd love writers and actors to contribute to this process and hope this can be part of our dialogue when we meet again.
How does 10:30am, Tuesday, February 22nd work for folks? First Congo-
same space. Let me know ASAP.
Also, still need one or two writer for upcoming shows- Victims to Victory- Friday, Feb 19th and Head Start- Thursday, March 11th.
themes emerging:
November shows:
- when the personal becomes political (the mystery of "de facto"
segregation in the public schools in Memphis (from the perspecitve of a former Montana teacher), the complexities in choosing to send your children to public schools in Memphis- when you are not part of the dominant culture of the schools/ the excitement and hope in starting a movement to do the aformentioned)
-living so close to darkness/ despair- (hearing gun shots a few blocks over, realizing the man who mugged your wife rides by on his bicycle every day)
- parenting-an enormous calling ( the overwhelm of parenting a special needs child when the educational system that is suppossed to support and help is so broken and dysfunctional, a father's love for his daughter comes full circle as he has to embrace her moving out of his arms and into the arms of her new husband)
- how Memphis take root inside you - thorns and flowers- to stay or go
Feb shows:
- committing to Memphis- the flowering of friendships
- Memphis changing- hopes, fears, realities ( changing face of Memphis families with mixed race adoptions, neighborhoods ravaged by violence that were once stable,cycles of abuse- broken lives/ abused animals, a good place to grow a business- big fish little pond, the painful reality of the Memphis city Schools, growing downtown- pluses,minuses)
- the deep disappointment and loss in recognizing when your parent will never parent you ( mom who can't fill out financial aid forms, dad who appears and disappears and disappears)
- the things we do for love and things love does for us (bowling
tournament,dog rescue,finding love in Palm Springs)
- when our own values clash (inviting more diversity into yoga studio, but only if diversity arrives on time)
It feels like a big wave of energy has built and we can now enjoy the ride without feeling like we have to push so hard. I am amazed by how the ensemble work is growing and deepening and we are working hard to prepare ourselves for playing in contexts where the stories will be deeper,the content heavier, the need to tell and be heard much greater. I know we all feel the experience is a tremendous gift and blessing, that we are growing with it. I am trying to track themes that are emerging- in Playback we call them red threads - with the hope that they will guide me towards what is needed at the next show and in the bigger picture. I have sketched this out here loosely- I'd love writers and actors to contribute to this process and hope this can be part of our dialogue when we meet again.
How does 10:30am, Tuesday, February 22nd work for folks? First Congo-
same space. Let me know ASAP.
Also, still need one or two writer for upcoming shows- Victims to Victory- Friday, Feb 19th and Head Start- Thursday, March 11th.
themes emerging:
November shows:
- when the personal becomes political (the mystery of "de facto"
segregation in the public schools in Memphis (from the perspecitve of a former Montana teacher), the complexities in choosing to send your children to public schools in Memphis- when you are not part of the dominant culture of the schools/ the excitement and hope in starting a movement to do the aformentioned)
-living so close to darkness/ despair- (hearing gun shots a few blocks over, realizing the man who mugged your wife rides by on his bicycle every day)
- parenting-an enormous calling ( the overwhelm of parenting a special needs child when the educational system that is suppossed to support and help is so broken and dysfunctional, a father's love for his daughter comes full circle as he has to embrace her moving out of his arms and into the arms of her new husband)
- how Memphis take root inside you - thorns and flowers- to stay or go
Feb shows:
- committing to Memphis- the flowering of friendships
- Memphis changing- hopes, fears, realities ( changing face of Memphis families with mixed race adoptions, neighborhoods ravaged by violence that were once stable,cycles of abuse- broken lives/ abused animals, a good place to grow a business- big fish little pond, the painful reality of the Memphis city Schools, growing downtown- pluses,minuses)
- the deep disappointment and loss in recognizing when your parent will never parent you ( mom who can't fill out financial aid forms, dad who appears and disappears and disappears)
- the things we do for love and things love does for us (bowling
tournament,dog rescue,finding love in Palm Springs)
- when our own values clash (inviting more diversity into yoga studio, but only if diversity arrives on time)
Sunday, January 24, 2010
The Memphis Medium
November 7, 2009
Memphis Matters
by Mary Allison Cates
While on a late night gallivant down Beale Street during a recent visit to Memphis from their home in Montana, Marion and her husband Jim floated the idea of moving to the river city. But the sobering morning light assured them that they must have been joking. They could never leave their beloved Montana, the only home Marion had ever known.
As it turns out, the joke was on them. The young couple arrived at Saturday night’s Playback performance from their new condo in downtown Memphis. When they learned that Jim’s job would necessitate a move southeast, they began to dread leaving Montana. Memphis had given them a memorable one-night-stand, but would a serious, committed, long-term relationship with this place ever really work out? Marion and Jim had their doubts.
But during a walk in South Main with her two Greyhounds, something shifted in Marion’s regard for Memphis. She explains, “There was music on every corner, there were friendly people everywhere, and the people at Spindini even offered my dogs some water… All of a sudden, I said to myself, ‘I love it here!’” When founder and director of Playback Memphis Virginia Murphy asks Marion to pinpoint what about this simple moment made her feel at home, Marion shrugs and says, “I have no idea. There is just something about this place. It’s something in the air.”
++++++
Lindsey has tried to leave Memphis many times. “I’ve had like three going away parties,” she reports to Saturday’s audience. “I’ll move away for a year or so, but somehow I always end up coming back. Now, I’ll be driving in my car and randomly think, ‘I really do like it here.’’
“What keeps bringing you back here?” Virginia asks.
The young woman, originally from Clarksville, TN struggles to name it. “It’s just a feeling I get…. More than the place I grew up, more than anywhere else, this place is mine.”
++++++
“I feel like I’ve been stagnating,” Uele says to Virginia, as part of a story she titles, “Should I Stay or Should I Grow?” For the young woman, who makes her living selling health food and herbal remedies, traveling and moving to new places have always been a way for her to reach her full potential. But Memphis is now not only the place that lured her for school. Ten years later, it is the center of her livelihood and the birthplace of her five-year-old daughter, who adamantly opposes the idea of relocating.
Uele describes Memphis as a place she once tried to leave. “It called me back in,” she says. “I have a deep love for the community [here] that I’ve never felt anywhere else I’ve lived.” Though she is trying to discern whether a new urban setting would be best for her and her child, she envisions such a move not as leaving Memphis behind, but as a chance to take with her everything the city has taught her. But when pressed to articulate the kind of teaching that Memphis has offered, Uele is vague. “It’s the Memphis culture…I’ve blanketed myself in it. I love it.”
+++++++
Though we breathe in the essence of Memphis, we make it ours, and we wrap ourselves up in it, we still cannot fully capture it. This is why the Playback process is particularly suited for Memphis. The city is an endlessly complex medium.
For example, when Marion relays a linear history of her conflicting regard for Memphis, the actors respond with a clamoring, multi-part symphony that represents the couple’s Beale Street sentiments, relocation anxiety, and South Main wonderment all at once. The piece offers a timeless way view ourselves and our city. It reveals that we are simultaneously our pasts, our presents, and our futures, and that Memphis is this way too.
In other cases, clarity comes when audience members, telling their stories, surprise themselves with the truths they speak. Such was the case for Lindsey, who said that she realized as she was talking that while she was establishing herself in Memphis, Memphis was surreptitiously establishing itself in her.
In still other cases, the playback process makes the implicit explicit. Uele’s description of her dilemma about whether to stay in Memphis came across as one woman’s plight. But the actors presented her in a web of human relationships. Glenda Mace, who plays the heroine, ties green scarves around the necks of those who benefit from Uele’s work. Joe Murphy, who plays the part of Uele’s daughter, ties a happy orange scarf bow around Uele’s ankle and a nearby chair. The piece ends when this scarf web is being stretched in many directions. Perhaps it is the relationships that wrap around us like a blanket and follow us wherever we go. Perhaps we can really only understand ourselves in context.
As Virginia says in her introduction to all of the “Memphis Matters” shows, our city “is an intense place. In order to make a life here, we must be able to hold a lot, psychically.” The Playback process, with its collaborative narrative, sheds light on those things about ourselves and our city that we struggle to grasp. And in bringing us together with others seeking to name these complexities, Playback itself becomes part of the fabric of the city – this place that invites us in, calls us back, and goes with us wherever we go.
Memphis Matters
by Mary Allison Cates
While on a late night gallivant down Beale Street during a recent visit to Memphis from their home in Montana, Marion and her husband Jim floated the idea of moving to the river city. But the sobering morning light assured them that they must have been joking. They could never leave their beloved Montana, the only home Marion had ever known.
As it turns out, the joke was on them. The young couple arrived at Saturday night’s Playback performance from their new condo in downtown Memphis. When they learned that Jim’s job would necessitate a move southeast, they began to dread leaving Montana. Memphis had given them a memorable one-night-stand, but would a serious, committed, long-term relationship with this place ever really work out? Marion and Jim had their doubts.
But during a walk in South Main with her two Greyhounds, something shifted in Marion’s regard for Memphis. She explains, “There was music on every corner, there were friendly people everywhere, and the people at Spindini even offered my dogs some water… All of a sudden, I said to myself, ‘I love it here!’” When founder and director of Playback Memphis Virginia Murphy asks Marion to pinpoint what about this simple moment made her feel at home, Marion shrugs and says, “I have no idea. There is just something about this place. It’s something in the air.”
++++++
Lindsey has tried to leave Memphis many times. “I’ve had like three going away parties,” she reports to Saturday’s audience. “I’ll move away for a year or so, but somehow I always end up coming back. Now, I’ll be driving in my car and randomly think, ‘I really do like it here.’’
“What keeps bringing you back here?” Virginia asks.
The young woman, originally from Clarksville, TN struggles to name it. “It’s just a feeling I get…. More than the place I grew up, more than anywhere else, this place is mine.”
++++++
“I feel like I’ve been stagnating,” Uele says to Virginia, as part of a story she titles, “Should I Stay or Should I Grow?” For the young woman, who makes her living selling health food and herbal remedies, traveling and moving to new places have always been a way for her to reach her full potential. But Memphis is now not only the place that lured her for school. Ten years later, it is the center of her livelihood and the birthplace of her five-year-old daughter, who adamantly opposes the idea of relocating.
Uele describes Memphis as a place she once tried to leave. “It called me back in,” she says. “I have a deep love for the community [here] that I’ve never felt anywhere else I’ve lived.” Though she is trying to discern whether a new urban setting would be best for her and her child, she envisions such a move not as leaving Memphis behind, but as a chance to take with her everything the city has taught her. But when pressed to articulate the kind of teaching that Memphis has offered, Uele is vague. “It’s the Memphis culture…I’ve blanketed myself in it. I love it.”
+++++++
Though we breathe in the essence of Memphis, we make it ours, and we wrap ourselves up in it, we still cannot fully capture it. This is why the Playback process is particularly suited for Memphis. The city is an endlessly complex medium.
For example, when Marion relays a linear history of her conflicting regard for Memphis, the actors respond with a clamoring, multi-part symphony that represents the couple’s Beale Street sentiments, relocation anxiety, and South Main wonderment all at once. The piece offers a timeless way view ourselves and our city. It reveals that we are simultaneously our pasts, our presents, and our futures, and that Memphis is this way too.
In other cases, clarity comes when audience members, telling their stories, surprise themselves with the truths they speak. Such was the case for Lindsey, who said that she realized as she was talking that while she was establishing herself in Memphis, Memphis was surreptitiously establishing itself in her.
In still other cases, the playback process makes the implicit explicit. Uele’s description of her dilemma about whether to stay in Memphis came across as one woman’s plight. But the actors presented her in a web of human relationships. Glenda Mace, who plays the heroine, ties green scarves around the necks of those who benefit from Uele’s work. Joe Murphy, who plays the part of Uele’s daughter, ties a happy orange scarf bow around Uele’s ankle and a nearby chair. The piece ends when this scarf web is being stretched in many directions. Perhaps it is the relationships that wrap around us like a blanket and follow us wherever we go. Perhaps we can really only understand ourselves in context.
As Virginia says in her introduction to all of the “Memphis Matters” shows, our city “is an intense place. In order to make a life here, we must be able to hold a lot, psychically.” The Playback process, with its collaborative narrative, sheds light on those things about ourselves and our city that we struggle to grasp. And in bringing us together with others seeking to name these complexities, Playback itself becomes part of the fabric of the city – this place that invites us in, calls us back, and goes with us wherever we go.
Tuesday, January 12, 2010
A story by audience member, Larry
November 16, 2009
Memphis Matters
Larry raises his hand, but is somewhat hesitant to stand up. The applaud goads him out of his chair, and he lumbers all six feet plus and maybe 250 pounds of his imposing self across the stage. Under the theatrical lights, strands of black hair poke through his almost military gray crop. The audience feels the strength of his grip just by looking at his thick hands swaying at his sides. He dwarfs all the actors, particularly Virginia, as he sits in the chair next to her. He looks down at her through his wire rim glasses and asks: “Is it OK if I cry?”
Then he laughs, as we all do, and looks out in to the audience. “My wife is shocked that I’m up here.” We all give his wife a look. She nods with approval.
Larry begins:
“This story is about my daughter. About a song really. When she was born I remember holding her, just looking at her thinking… she was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen. So much so that I just had to sing.” Larry, belts out an impromptu version of You Are So Beautiful, with a much softer voice than Joe Cocker’s. He lets the final note fall on us slowly. “That’s the first thing I ever said to her. And it became the song I sang to her as she would fall asleep. Then she got a little older, about fourteen, and she wanted to start dating guys.” Larry gives Virginia a discontented look that gets a laugh. “I said to her, OK, but remember that you are second to no man. Understand? You are second to no man. Then she got to be about thirty and she was still single. And she called me up one day and said, you know Dad maybe I set the bar a little too high.” [By I she means we.] “But luckily she didn’t lower her standards and it paid off. She met a great guy. A musician. He had written songs for her and wrote some music for their wedding. When I got to the rehearsal dinner I asked if I could sing something on the day. And he understood what a gift music was, and so the day of the wedding I sang You are so beautiful to me… So that song, you know…that was the thing I sang to her on the first day of her life, on the first day of her married life, and on so many nights in between.”
Bloggin It
Ok- so I've never visited the blogoshpere before, but here I am. Not so scary. Now that we have all crawled out from under the holidays, let's try to use this space as it was intended.Would love to see posts regarding last public shows- doesn't have to be a final piece. I am also going to invite company members into this process so that they can give voice to their experience of the journey. And I promise to posts some pics.
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