Sizzle Reels and Sustainability

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WICA, women

 

Earlier today, there was an amazing event at WICA called WOW! Stories.  (WOW standing for “Women of Whidbey”) Dozens of women spoke about their passions, shared inspirational stories and encouraged the audience to fill their hearts with hope.

All of the speakers were marvelous, but I’d like to use this post as an opportunity to highlight a few that resonated with me.

I know Suzanne Kelman from working with her on WICA’s production of Sweeney Todd.  She played Mrs. Lovett and I played Pirelli (see picture at the end of the post for proof.) She spoke about her recent transition into screenwriting.  On the ferry ride on her way to Pitchfest in California, she thought about turning back as soon as she arrived at the airport.  But an encounter with Peter Lawlor on the ferry made her change her mind and continue on her path.

Peter had told her about how, at 90 years old, he was finishing up his 3rd book of poetry, building his racer for the annual soapbox derby and taking himself on a cruise.  His passion for life at 90 propelled Suzanne to continue her journey and pitch her screenplay.

An interested producer asked “I love the script.  Could you make a sizzle reel?”

To which Suzanne replied “Yes!” not knowing what a sizzle reel was.  Through the power of Facebook and the support of this creative community, she created the trailer, and the movie, Maggie the Brave, is scheduled for filming next spring.

Diana Lindsay, who organized this amazing event, gave a speech entitled “What can you do when the odds are long and medicine comes up short?” which focused on her journey to overcome Stage 4 lung cancer.

These were some of the highlights of her speech:

-We are capable of more healing than we think.

-We are capable of more knowledge than we think.

-We are capable of more love than we think.

-We get more time than we think.

And finally, “Love your cells.”

One of the final speeches of the day was Peggy Taylor.  I first encountered Peggy Taylor at a SERVES retreat training for AmeriCorps.  It was a workshop about fostering creativity.  We were led through a guided meditation where we pictured a door, opened it, then pictured a being that gave us a gift.  I still have the drawing on butcher paper, and I remember the gift I was given–a bronze heart on a chain.

Peggy left us all warm and fuzzy and ready to conquer the world with such nuggets as “The more you use your creativity, the more there is” and “We will all become those goddesses (referenced earlier in Diana’s speech) that will heal this world.”

As communities, we need to take the time to celebrate ourselves.  Events like WOW! Stories foster an environment of hundreds of people intentionally practicing positive thought, mindfulness, and hopefully getting a fire in their bellies to go and create the next round of inspiring stories.

Me as Pirelli, posing with WICA’s Executive Director, Stacie Burgua.

 

For the love of cleavage

Tags

boobs, Eve Ensler, Rocky Horror

In 2009, I was in a production of The Rocky Horror Picture Show.  I played Magenta.  For those who know the show, it should come as no surprise that the theatre capitalized on the interactive nature of the piece and sold bags of props (water guns, toast, cards, etc…)  They lovingly called these “goodie bags.”

The above picture was a publicity still taken to promote the show.  The director asked my permission if it could be reprinted with the text “goodie bags, $5” underneath, well, the girls (I call them Mary Kate and Ashley).  I thought this was hilarious and immediately approved the request.

An audience member found this picture offensive.  MY CLEAVAGE offensive.  A “modesty patch” was placed over my cleavage in hopes that others wouldn’t be offended.

Which leads me to ask: What’s the big deal about cleavage?!?!

I love cleavage.  I think it is one of the most awesome things EVER.  And look at that picture–there’s not even that much of it.  I can put together an outfit that has WAY better cleavage.

I have been told a handful of times in my life by employers “Next time you come into work, you might want to wear something more appropriate.”  Who gets to decide when cleavage is and is not appropriate?  Shouldn’t that be the decision of the person to whom the cleavage belongs?

I am reminded of Eve Ensler’s piece in The Vagina Monologues, My Short Skirt, and would like to compose my own short homage:

My curvaceous cleavage

is not an offense to the senses,

an indication of loose morals

or an invitation to motorboat.

My curvaceous cleavage

is not a reason

to estimate my IQ,

although it has been in the past

that logic has been

found to be extremely flawed.

My curvaceous cleavage,

you can take it or leave it,

it does not desire your opinion.

My curvaceous cleavage

is a celebration of 38C,

(an apartment of breasts

where everyday is a birthday party).

My curvaceous cleavage

defies bra-burning (respectfully)

defies gravity

defies all preconceptions.

My curvaceous cleavage

is empowerment

a shelf within which

my Amazon heart beats.

But mostly,

my curvaceous cleavage,

and everything underneath it,

is Mine.

Mine.

Mine.

The week I met both Eve Ensler and Sharon Needles

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Berkeley Rep, Dael Orlandersmith, drag queens, Eve Ensler, Hedgebrook, RuPaul's Drag Race, Sharon Needles

Kathryn Brooks, Sharon, and myself.

It’s not often that you get to meet your (s)heroes.  Let alone meet two in one week.  In different states.

Last weekend, I got to go to Berkeley Rep with Hedgebrook to celebrate two productions: Dael Orlandersmith’s Black and Blue Boys/Broken Men and Eve Ensler’s Emotional Creature. Both shows were stunning.

In Black and Blue Boys/Broken Men, Dael portrayed a dozen male characters of varying age, race and status.  The nuances in her performances transported the audience, made us believe she was a multi-racial chameleon, made us question what we thought we knew to be true about abuse, incest, rape and resurrection.

Emotional Creature focuses on the journey that young women in modern society undertake.  Songs seasoned the show, interspersed with rhythmic dance numbers, multimedia slideshows and powerful monologues.  I was transported back to middle school, to high school…I left the theatre thinking that watching this play should be mandatory to all girls before entering high school.  (And boys, for that matter).

The reception that followed was a powerful estrogenius force of (mostly) women converging to reflect on the performance(s) they had just seen and meet the playwrights. Eve couldn’t stay long, as she was leaving on a 5:00 AM flight the next morning to Michigan to perform the Vagina Monologues on the steps of the Michigan state capital.  To be mere inches away from her as she gave an eloquent call to action hours before that critical performance in Michigan is one of the most profound experiences I have ever had in my life.

(#sayvagina)

I didn’t really get to meet Eve, per say.  But I did catch her eye and say “Good luck!” as she headed out the door.  I would say that almost counts as meeting her.  I just tell people I met her.  Keep it simple.

As we left the reception, Dael pointed to me and said “You are hilarious.  And I bet you’re a damn good actor.”  I was speechless.  I don’t know if I even had the presence of mind to say thank you.

Fast forward to this past Friday.  Kathryn Brooks has been writing a screenplay about time travelling drag queens.  Sharon Needles needs to be in her movie.  So we bought VIP tickets to see her perform at Neumos.

The preparations were intense.  Many false eyelashes and other cosmetics of that nature were procured and applied.  I had huge hair and painted-on eyebrows, both of which put me closer to god(dess).

We were two of the last people to get their picture taken with Sharon.  This is an approximation of how the conversation went:

Kathryn: Hi, Sharon, my name is Kathryn Brooks and I’m a movie magician and I’m making a movie about time travelling drag queens and I can’t do it without you! (Hands her beanie baby with business card attached to neck). And this is my friend Katie and she is the love child of Lady Bunny and Tammy Faye.

Sharon: (turning towards me) Oh, I have a tattoo of Tammy Faye–

Me: I know, I was going to have a fake tattoo of you, but it didn’t come in the mail in time.

Sharon: Well, that’s okay.  Beanie babies and Tammy Faye, that’s a good combo. (Camera clicks).

And scene.

When we meet our (s)heroes, we are often speechless.  We are slightly paralyzed by the royalty-like status they have achieved in our personal reality.  But, ultimately, they are all just people, like you or me.  Or Tammy Faye.   Or beanie babies.

It is our responsibility to transform that paralysis and sense of wonder into a zest for living life that will, in turn, make us the (s)heroes of others.  And so on and so forth.

I promise to maintain this blog, I promise to maintain this blog, I promise to maintain this blog…

Tags

comedy, Hedgebrook, Mel Brooks, vokatiebulary

This would be my fourth or fifth earnest attempt to initiate and maintain a blog.  I have a feeling it will actually take this time.  Perhaps because I have started it to out-Klout Kelsye.  Perhaps because I am now working at Hedgebrook and it seems really silly to be working at an organization who empowers women writers and not write.  Perhaps because it’s just about damn time.

My mother has always called me a writer.  Other people identify me as such but I have eschewed the title for ridiculous reasons.  Oh, but I’m an actress.  Oh, but I’m a director.  Oh, but I’ve always just been a good student…

Finally, I am embracing the title.  Yes.  I AM a writer.  You caught me red-handed.  Good for you.  Do you want a fricking cookie?!

I am not necessarily a linear thinker.  (I will expand on the “vokatiebulary” term “katie story” at a later date. It involves a runner about cacti).  I assure you, though, that this blog will be entertaining, neurotic, verbose, insightful, have pretty pictures and be comprised 42% of pixie dust.

Thanks for reading.

(p.s. It’s Mel Brooks’ birthday today, which explains the picture from Blazing Saddles.  They did not have blogs back in the old west, but perhaps they exchanged stories about farting around the campfire.  Which is similar enough to blogging.  So there.)