For, lambkins, we will live

Yup. He went and ordered shelves. Shelves for the books of the resurrection of Book by Book.

What does this mean?? Glad you asked.

Two years ago, we owned a little used bookstore. It was in Warren, very near the 2nd Story Theater. Times being what they were, we closed--unwillingly. It had been a tiny shop, but eclectic in design, and people liked us, they really liked us!

And now it is happening all over again--BUT--ha, HA! THIS time it will be different! It is in Pawtucket! [The Hope Artiste Village] Actually, location matters less than the knowledge we have gained since the last time we ventured into entrepreneurship. And this time, the bookstore is his. The theater part, that's mine.

So SALT has a home. At least for now. When the lease is signed by the end of January, we will be able to meet, and rehearse, and perform, and write, and meet again. Oh, and buy books.

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"Invent Nothing, Deny Nothing"

What have I been doing lately?...

I am rereading David Mamet's "True and False." It is the clearest, most direct advice for actors--hands down. If you haven't read it--READ IT; it's concise, out in paperback, and it is the best book-money you will spend this year. No question.

My God, this is a good [library] book. Too bad I loaned my only copy to Patrick Poole who never returned it.
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The Power of The Stage Door

My favorite place in a theater is not the stage. My favorite place in a theater is the door to the stage. Entrance doors to the stage are portholes to belief, pathways to poetic truth. It is the place of change, the place where the beginning of the truth happens. It is the threshold of magic.

Waiting to make an entrance, at the stage door--I can see the lights and hear the dialogue of the story; I can listen intently for the cue that will pull me out, like an eight-year old marking a schoolyard jump rope ...but as I wait, I am physically in the place that is unseen, the place that includes placed props, exposed, unpainted set flats, used water cups, duct-taped wires.

I am charged with feeling as I wait--listening to the charging train that is the action of the play. As the cue gets closer, I get pumped with passion and my heart beats faster. Not with fear, but with anticipation. In that electric, stage-door, sacred place, I am the most powerful. I am the most vulnerable. I am the most real.

I review my entrance line in my head--just the entrance line--then I hear my cue, and go--through the stage door--into the kinetic power of the play.

-clg

The Plan (or rather, A Plan)

Christin and I have been talking about forming a theatre group for a few years now. We met at 2nd Story Theatre in Warren, and fell in love while doing a one-act play in which our characters fell in love. In fact, we were married on stage. Soppy as hell, I know, but there it is! Anyway, I'm a book guy and she's a theatre girl. We wanted to create a great combination--like a Reese's Cup!!

Our initial idea was to pair a theatre with a bookstore. We even ran our own little bookstore in Warren ("Book by Book") for eight months as a sort of pilot project, although the arrival of our little girl spiked that venture rather abruptly. The idea still has merit, since a bookshop would be a perfect way to increase a theater's revenue stream, and a theater is a great draw for a bookshop. In fact, I think we need just one more thing to make the entire concern really vital--probably something to do with food. Imagine a large-ish space (realistically about 10,000 square feet) with bookstore, theatre, and casual dining components. Who could resist that? A crazy mix of introverts and extroverts, and they all gotta eat!

Rick (Christin's hubby)

Zen and the Cardboard Dollhouse

Every--and I mean EVERY--time I talk to people about this theater group, I get excited all over again. Messy 'day' stuff falls away and I go into this Zen-like state where all is good and right with the world.

It reminds me of when I was in middle school and my sister and I built our own dollhouse out of a cardboard box. It took weeks and we had no budget, so we spent a lot of time problem-solving about what we wanted to make for the house. Buttons became dishes. Tiny, stamp-sized pictures from National Geo. became pictures on the wall. We crocheted yarn bits into rugs. I even made an itty-bitty toothpaste out of tin foil. Why did we do this? It was challenging--it cost nothing--we were collaborating, each using our strengths--and we had this beautiful (albeit simple) thing when we were done. But we were never truly done. We raced home from school to work on it--building, rearranging, adding a bead here, a piece of string there--and we loved it.

That Christmas I received a pre-fab dollhouse kit because someone mistakenly thought that I would be happier with a 'real' dollhouse--stairs, shutters, little wooden roof tiles--but I wasn't. It was the cardboard I loved, and the collaboration with my little sister. And the problems that were fun to solve--every day.

And that's how I feel about S.A.L.T.--like these are the problems I crave solving. I feel prepared to do it--I want to work on it--live theater has always been some of the best work I have ever done. I want to keep doing it--just like the cardboard dollhouse.

-clg

Heading Towards Collaboration...

Today I sat down with Monti (Geoff) and talked about theater...what we have done, what we believe in, and what we need to do. We talked a little about next steps; thus, this blog.
Stay with us...
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Stage. Actors. Live Theater...