Remembering Todd Marrone

I can't shake this sadness that's been looming over my head, clouding my heart, that's been staying three steps behind me and waiting for me to sit down and get comfortable. It's then I feel it pressing down on my shoulders and pulling at the pit of my stomach. I've had this feeling since the day after Christmas, an association that has nothing to do with the holiday. That's the day I had to say this sentence to my wife: Todd Marrone died.

I met Todd once.

And just saying that hurts me. a bit. I met him once. I didn't need to meet him again because I would always have the chance to meet him again. He wasn't hard to find, he was a force of nature in the Philly arts scene, or at least in my head. I could email him and he'd paint a portrait for next to nothing. (I know because he did this for my wife.) I could go to First Friday and take one of the free drawings he always had stapled to a plywood board. (I know this because I did this with my daughter. I got to speak to her about Todd like he was Rembrandt or Van Gogh, because he was. I called him a great man, because he was.) I could just follow his wit and passion from online, watch as he changed the lives of young artists. I didn't have to put the effort into actually meeting him because nothing can stop a force of nature like Todd was.

Only...

Yeah, I'm not going to say it. Partially because I don't know the whole truth. I only have my inferences from what I've gathered online. It would be unfair. But I will say that I never wanted to be stronger than Todd. I always wanted someone to look up to like him. And now I find out that I probably am stronger, and I still don't want to be. I want... This is harder than I thought. I'm at work and I'm near falling apart. I've had to quickly scroll past the memorials and the love facebook is exploding with for Todd because I just can't let my heart break that much, that often. I've actually thought about hiding his feed because even a moment is too much. But I can't do that. I have to be stronger than I want to be, and I have to believe that I am.

But more than that. I have to celebrate art, celebrate life. I have to give away the weird pieces of me for next to nothing so it can be shared with people I don't even know. I have to tell my daughter that there are great people out there doing impossible things for all the right reasons. And that people are bigger than you can imagine, they are forces of nature.

And they're small and fragile too.

I have to remember Todd Marrone... because I never want to forget him.

With Love,
-BGD

Why this play, now?

Over the weekend, I completed a draft of a new play, or rather I have generated enough of a draft that it is completed enough for me to say it will be complete. Meaning I could hand it to actors, designers, and a director and feel as though we all have something to work on. In theatre, there is never really completion until opening night and even then it's questionable. But the work I've done I think is significant enough for me to pause and perhaps reflect on it.

Riding into work this morning on the subway, I was doing that and one of the big "art questions" hit me... Why this play, now?

The question is designed to show immediacy and to describe the audience it is impacting. It's a really important question in theatre because you are choosing to share something in the moment to only a select number of people, really. It's perhaps the first question every production needs to grapple with. As a playwright, I am often gripped with this question myself. I complete something and I suddenly ask myself, "But why would anyone else care?" This question is one of my vampires.

Today on the subway, I was able to shine some light on that vampire. Now, vampires never really die, but at least I know I can make it retreat. Why this play, now? I don't know. This isn't me being coy or clever, really. I'm one artist and here's what's been broiling in my brain, here's what my life has incubated, here's what I think is interesting for me right now. In sharing my work, I'm actually asking, "This play, now?" to the world at large, but mostly to other artists who wear the hat of producer or director. It's not that I shouldn't grapple with the question, but to do that alone is at best egotistical.

Instead, I choose to collaborate. I choose to fight this vampire with fellow -as my friends at BRAT would say- art-warriors. Let the fight be good and the answer be even better.

-BGD

Where did I go?

Remember when I was posting here a lot? I do too. I remember that it was important to me and I felt better the days I did post than the days I did not. I remember enjoying tracking to see if folks read this and hoping I could have more views than the last day.

Then I stopped.

Oh sure, the reason I stopped was freight train of art that ran over my entire life. And it was an awesome, awesome time. And that train continues to roll on in new and interesting ways. But that's also an excuse and it's time to start making thoughts public again. To start being afraid of the messy internal things that I share with the world.

Because that's an art too...

writer's lament

The worst part of finishing a draft is not being able to work on that draft. You've just fallen in love with the script and now there's nothing to do with it.

It's the little things....

So I haven't done this in awhile. Because... life, I guess. It's been weird, rough and wonderful. And it's been keeping me from this, or I've been ignoring it. Bad blogger.

The update is that things are moving along. I'll do a proper update later but this isn't the moment for that. What I really wanted to do was take a moment to praise a designer that I love... Jamie, my wife. (I also love her as a person, just to be clear, but this is about her design life and growth.) For awhile she's been locked in what I think of as an artist's death spiral. It's when doubt and longing of producing art becomes the center of your creative process. Maybe I'm being too dramatic about it and she doesn't feel that way, but I AM a playwright, so... I am prone to fits of drama.

Today, she seems to have taken the first steps out of the spiral. And I am very proud of her. I think it's an important job of any artist to praise others successes. So... today is about jumping for joy with her.

Want more details on what she's up to? Visit her blog and let her tell you herself.  http://jgraceduff.blogspot.com/2013/01/baby-baby-steps.html

Submitted without title

The weird thing about second drafts is how much harder they are than first drafts. A first draft is limitless and displays the POTENTIAL an idea has. And... I hope you can see the problem right there.

A second draft is about fulfilling potentials. Sometimes you don't know what's broken, sometimes you do. But whatever the case is, you have to figure out how to fix it. And how is hard.

First drafts also have suggested forms.... in that it's similar to this or you're trying that. You can diagram things out a bit. But in a second draft, when that form is off the fix is not always as apparent.

Well... this is why it's a job, not a hobby.

Grindgrindgrind.

-BGD

"Don''t you be smart, it don't suit you."

Things happen too fast.

I swear I was gonna post a review of BratShit Crazy and THEN tell you about the notes I got from my first draft and THEN tell you about who my director is.

And now, I'm in this nebulous place where BSC seems like a month ago and I'm still in the middle of notes from the draft and I'm supposed to wait another day or two to announce who the director is.

So, I need to know from you, fair totally-existent reader, what is my responsibility to you? How often do you expect an update from me? All that jazz. (Not that jazz) (definitely not that jazz...)

-BGD