A Year(ish) in Review

This is not an obligatory "year-in-review" post. This is an "I'm-writing-because-I-want-to-and-it-just-so-happens-to-be-New-Year's-Eve" post. I feel that I have reached the end of a certain chapter of my life, one that has spanned more than a year. So this post will cover more than a year. Sometimes I like to be unconventional. Deal with it.

In the last year(ish), many of my best friends moved into the big and scary real world while I stayed behind in the small and safe world of college. But somehow, I was the one who was scared. How was I supposed to navigate this? We, who had been riding the same train for four years, who had each others' backs through heartbreaks and loss, term papers and auditions, were suddenly separated. It was as if I had slept through the station where everyone else switched trains--I missed my ride. And we stayed in touch with phone calls and Skype and the beauty of 21st century technology, but I felt left out. I had nothing to offer--no pieces of advice, no empathetic anecdote. Because I was just sitting in Flagstaff, continuing class work and feeling sorry for myself. 

And then I realized that was stupid. 

I was only a year behind them, and what is a year really in the scheme of things? We all loved each other and still had each others' backs, and nothing else mattered. So I started celebrating their struggles with them: "Isn't it exciting not knowing what's going to happen?" "How fun that you had a crappy job for a while. What good stories you have!" They became the carrot I was chasing. Because in a few short months, I will join the uncertainty party, and it will be a terrifying super fun time.

In the mean time, I tackled every project in front of me with as much dedication and courage as I could muster (and trust me, I needed a lot of it). The people I had surrounded myself with stuck by me and got me through some of the most grueling and rewarding experiences of my life. It was like God reminding me that I was where I was supposed to be. A reminder that I love what I do, and I happen to be pretty good at it (How's that for humility?).

As a bonus to all this growth I was going through, I also got a boyfriend. Woo-hoo! He is kind and caring and reminds me not to take myself so seriously all the time. We laugh often and dance in the kitchen and have intellectual conversations over bowls of ice cream. He stays up with me while I work on one of the many projects to which I probably should have said no. He makes copies and collates like a pro and then tells me when it's time to go to bed. He buys me coloring books so I have something fun to do. He is supremely great.

I continue to mourn the loss of my Grandpa. He died suddenly and without warning on November 11, 2013. His memorial service was beautiful and painful. I am so blessed to have such a wonderfully artistic family so that on such a sad day I was surrounded by beautiful music and happy memories. I think of him often and hope he is proud of me. I try to live my happiest life for him, because I know he liked it better when I smiled. Sometimes I make a joke and hope it brings a twinkle to his eyes. That man was full of magic. I hope when we are reunited he says something along the lines of, "My darling granddaughter, you did a good job with most of it, but you were a real dumbass about a lot of things." Then he'll laugh and give me a hug. That's how I'll know my life was a success. 

And now I'm just waiting to get a student teaching placement. I'm trying to reorganize my room in Phoenix so that it is livable for a 23-year-old. I am brainstorming ways I can change the world. (Isn't that what 20-somethings are supposed to do?) I am trying to figure out a way to gracefully transition into a conversation about Ferguson and #YesAllWomen, but that's not happening, so let's just dive in.

The riots taking place in Ferguson should be a wake-up call for all of us. I truly believe that there are more honest, wonderful police officers than not. But the fact that good cops read as an exception rather than the rule to any group of people in this country is not okay. I don't agree with what people are doing on both sides of the issue, but here is what I know: all lives matter. Black, white, purple, green--it doesn't matter. Every single person has value and something to offer this world. Sometimes they get lost along the way, and it's disheartening. But we have to be better. And I really think that starts with kindness. Listen to each other. And listen to understand, not to respond. Treat each other with respect. Remember that everyone is someone's child. Everyone matters to someone. Treat each other accordingly.

#YesAllWomen This year was huge for feminism, and there is much to celebrate. And here is what I want to say about it. #YesAllWomen does not mean #YesAllMen. Just like not all cops are racists. Just like not all Christians are homophobes. Just like not all Muslims are terrorists. Just like not everyone likes chocolate! I know that's shocking to some of you, but it's true; not all men are misogynists. I know a lot of men who treat women with respect. Every single one of my friends treat women with respect, because I don't like to associate with anyone who thinks less of me. I hang out with people who think I'm awesome and smart and funny and cool. We should strive to make everyone feel like that. 

Here's what Ferguson and #YesAllWomen have in common: a group of people, who make up a significant percentage of this country's population, are feeling isolated, disrespected, and unheard. That's not okay. Stop listening in order to form a response that proves you're right. Start listening to understand where the other person is coming from. Stop listening and hear a personal attack on you. Start listening and hear a request for help. A plea that says, "Please hear where I'm coming from. Please acknowledge my feelings and recognize that they are valid. Please walk with me as I navigate this."

Just be kind to one another.

I wish you peace, laughter, joy, surprises, challenges, and success in the coming year.

With much love,

J

Artistic Responsibility

I just finished watching the HBO documentary, Dangerous Acts, Starring the Unstable Elements of Belarus. First of all, I had no idea that Belarus is governed by a dictator. It seems utterly ridiculous that any country would be governed by a dictator in the 21st-century, but there you have it (And it happens in more countries than you might think). The documentary follows the lives of eight people, all members of the Belarus Free Theatre. They perform underground as their plays are overtly political in tone and content. Today, the Belarus Free Theatre has lost its performance space in Belarus, members are blacklisted under threat of KGB imprisonment, and many have sought political asylum elsewhere. The group continues to perform in those countries that allow it and have received critical acclaim as well as multiple awards for their important work.

The Belarus government attempted to silence these artists, but they continue to perform and to speak out. During the documentary, one member of the Belarus free theater comments that when the blacklist came out, it targeted artists, writers, musicians, and thespians, or the "creative intelligentsia". And that's the way it has always been. I'm not referring to Belarus now, but rather all of history. The "creative intelligentsia" has been viewed as dangerous, threats to the so-called "norm". It happened in America during McCarthyism, Germany during the Third Reich, Central America during the Cold War, and it's still happening now. People in power fear artists. Why?

Is it because they simply don't like art? Because they hate creativity? Maybe they just don't "get it" and think artists are weird.

No, it's much more than that.

People in power fear artists because artists insist on thinking for themselves. Artists showcase the ugly truths so few want to acknowledge. 

It is important to remember why we as artists do what we do. It's easy to say the arts shouldn't be cut from schools because they teach kids to express themselves, to collaborate, and to think critically. But that minimizes the arts' importance. It is essential to teach our children the arts because they need to know that it is more than okay to think outside the box; that it is more than okay to question the rules; that it is more than okay to make a bold statement about who they are and how they feel.

Artists matter because they are daring enough to scream, "This is not the story I want to tell!" Artists matter because they utilize a language that speaks directly to the souls of others. If artists were incapable of making real, lasting contributions to society, then people in power would have nothing to fear. But they do fear. They fear the group of people who know how to articulate the injustices and indignation of the world. They fear the group of people who give voices to the silent, courage to the fearful, and validation to the disreputable. 

Artists are not policymakers or philanthropists; we can't march into government offices and demand the people in charge do something. But we also cannot stand still and silent. We matter because we were born to question and magnify the evils of this world. We were also born to discover beauty in spite of this. I can't solve the world's problems, but I can call attention to them. And every time a story is shared, it is magnified. It will take a long time; people will be hurt and even die during the wait. But eventually the story will be magnified to so large a scale that it cannot be ignored and action must be taken. This is my duty as a human; this is my responsibility as an artist. 

For more information on the Belarus Free Theatre, visit their website: www.belarusfreetheatre.com

And check out the HBO documentary, Dangerous Acts, Starring the Unstable Elements of Belarus: http://hbowatch.com/hbo-documentary-films-dangerous-acts-starring-the-unstable-elements-of-belarus/

Excitement | Jumbled Words | Structure

Disclaimer: My excitement level is currently impeding my ability to write coherently. Bear with me.

With the start of each semester, I like to look back over things I've written to remind myself of various ideas that have fallen into the forgotten corners of my mind. I came across a handwritten journal entry from last summer that I've been meaning to post for a couple of days, but I convinced myself it wasn't worth posting.

However, I just received some very exciting news that changed my mind: My brother will be coming out from Rochester, NY to Flagstaff, AZ in March to see my capstone performance, Forgotten Places! I actually started crying from happiness and excitement when I read the text. And knowing that my brother, whom I admire for so many things, but especially his artistic outlook and creativity, is going to be able to see a project for which I care so deeply (live and in person no less, instead of on a shaky, pixelated videotape)..."Elation" is the most appropriate word to describe it. All of this to say that my creative vigor has been renewed. 

I'M SO STOKED! 

So I decided to go ahead and post that handwritten journal entry from a year ago, because it's about creativity and structure, which I've been struggling with lately. So, here it is...

"Unfortunately, among actors and actresses, there's a stigma against hard work."                                 

                          -No Acting Please by Eric Morris

 Why is that? Why do we punish hard work with put downs and negativity? Perhaps it stems from the idea that talent can't be taught. I refuse to believe, however, that most people are simply born great and don't have any work to do. Sure, there are a few prodigies of exceptions, and some people catch on faster than others. But that shouldn't displace the value of hard work. Personally, I have way more respect for someone who works their butt off as opposed to someone who sits on their derriere and thinks they're "too good" for method, regimen, or discipline.

Why do we think creativity can't have structure? Sure, there should be options, varieties, new ways of thinking. But the newness, novelty, and absolute wonderment we receive from creative mediums result from choices made in some form of structure. And structure doesn't have to be stiff or boring--it's simply an agreed set of given circumstances: A piece of music will be performed on B by C musicians; X spoken piece will be performed on Y by Z performers. The piece of music and the spoken piece can vary. The time and location can change. The types and number of people performing and attending will differ. But nonetheless, we have a structure. Even the structure itself can be flipped on its head. But structure exists in creative expression, and that's okay. 

Structure is also what makes us good artists. We rehearse individually and together. We revise and change choices. We figure things out during this time of structure--what works and what doesn't. And without it, creativity and art is sporadic at best, and trapped in our heads at worst.