"post-pandemic"

Just wanted to hop on here briefly because it’s been a while since I’ve updated. Someone messaged me and said that the social media links on my website were off (thanks Sam!). Since I’m updating that, might as well update a few more things for anyone who is keeping up with where I am now.

I have not been very present on social media and it’s been a while since i’ve done a production, but now is as good a time as any to let folks know that I have spent the last several weeks in Denver, CO working on Much Ado About Nothing at DCPA with a killer cast and crew. The level of talent in that room is astounding and I am learning so much coming back to the theatre. I am so incredibly blessed to be back in Denver. Our show is running for only two more weeks, so if you happen to be around, come thru!

Apologies for the delayed update but sometimes life just takes a little bit of time. Perhaps I'll write a more detailed blog post later, but this is all the bandwidth I have at the moment.

Be well and take care of yourselves.

Radical Surrender

Can feel like a bully dangling us by our feet
Can look like piercing spotlight bouncing off a shattered mirror
Can sound like inconsolable heaving gasps
Can taste like bitter old lessons sprouting from the crevices of your mind

I don’t know what it smells like. 

I often think of a beautiful play I saw in San Diego the last time I had the pleasure of being there. The play was called “A Kind of Weather” by Bea Basso, at Diversionary Theatre. One of the characters talks about how he think the term “Trans” can sometimes feel like it misses the mark. It comes from the term “transsexual”, but it also feels like it can imply that someone who is trans has gone through a “transition”. He argues that this term can feel misleading because someone who is “trans” is actually becoming more true to how they’ve always identified. It’s the people around them who are transitioning and recalibrating what it’s like to interact with that person as they truly identify. 

That concept has revisited my mind off and on ever since: a Truth can simply present itself and we are then left to go thru the transition of what that means for us. How do we mold ourselves to harmonize with a new truth?

This global pandemic has presented a massive truth which we cannot turn a blind eye toward, and many of us are left with the task of reconfiguring ourselves and our journeys. We’re left with all kinds of uncertainty: are the people I love going to be safe? How will I pay my rent next month? When will I be able to hug my friends again?

Alongside all of these immediate questions come up nuanced ones that slowly creep in thru the fog. Why don’t I check in with my friends and family this much on a normal basis? Am I doing the best with what I’ve been gifted? What really resonates in my heart when everything else falls apart?

These are the questions have been the ones that have thrown me for a radical loop. They’re the ones I don’t think I would have focused a genuine examination on if it wasn’t for this involuntary halt. I don’t mean to reduce the massive grief that has overcome the globe. The loss and fear is very, very real. I honor this truth with so much love and my best attempt at rooted presence. I also believe that along with painful truth and radical surrender can come iridescent clarity and wholesome love.

Leaning into the light is a choice. Sometimes it’s not an easy one to make. I’ve learned that grief is a circular process that takes time and patience with oneself. Now that I’m at the beginning of that process again, I’m trying to honor and let myself feel what I need to feel, but I’ve also become more aware of how important it is to let go of what doesn’t need to overstay it’s welcome. Remembering the clarity that this transition has afforded me is what keeps my engine running. I cannot see outside this opaque cocoon, but I’m holding on to the hope in my minds eye that we’ll eventually break out of this period more vibrant, grounded, and full of life.

Salud, Amigos. 

dropping a link

Just hopping on here to share that the world premiere production of The Straights by T. Adamson is opening this Thursday, December 5th, in Brooklyn, NY! Here’s a dope trailer my uber talented, super smart, multi-hyphenate artist, partner-in-crime on this beatnik millennial space odyssey MG created for our funhouse mirror labor of love: goomba

click here for $20 tickets

if you’re craving more info on the play, here are some portals for ya:
pink heart emoji
trampoline

I would write more but my brain has been in an extravagant stream of consciousness mode for a while now, and i’m afraid my shorthand may not resonate with folks on the outskirts of my brain. if you’re really aching for a slice of funsensical brain mush, drop me a line and maybe i’ll write you a poem. can’t promise any rhymes or logical sense.

love,

5dPheebs

(come see the play)

Não se preocupe

It seems like I’m consistently posting twice a year. It’s challenging to post things on this blog that are worthy of sharing, because sometimes the words that come out feel more like journal entries than they do work-related updates. I am trying to be more specific about defining what work/personal life boundaries look like. Bear with me as I explore and find a happy medium.

This past summer was as challenging as it was transformative. In ten intensive days, I trained to do a 90 minute solo show for a wonderful company called Playfair. It forced me to really put my mind and body to the test. Memorizing just over a hundred pages of text seemed impossible at first, but it proved to be within my field of competence. I then had a mini tour of it, where I facilitated the show for several different universities, getting a quick taste of each new city I visited. The tour tested my strength of mind and faith, ultimately awakening me to the magnitude of just how much I am actually capable of.

My tour ended in Portland, Maine, which was geographically perfectly aligned with the following project I had the fortunate opportunity to play and saunter in. I worked on a play by Sarah Ruhl, titled “The Clean House”, directed by the wickedly smart and insightful Cait Robinson. What a beautifully strange and funny puzzle of a play this was. Any actor will tell you, doing comedy is HARD. After weeks of telling the same jokes over and over, the funnies become stale in the rehearsal room and it feels like even the crickets in the room are embarrassed for you. THANK GOD FOR AUDIENCES. Once our previews started, glorious exchange with the audience amplified the play. The words lifted off and we knew we were on the right track. I began to find that the blueprint Ruhl gave us led us through the bizarre/confusing/magical moments if we gave way to the unknown and truly got out of the Chariot’s way. Like Matilde’s mother once said, “In order to tell a good joke, you have to believe that your problems are very small and that the world is very big.”

Matilde’s spirit is still bouncing around in my mind. Much like Matilde’s search, throughout the process of the run I found myself trying to dissect how to craft and deliver “the Perfect Joke”. Although I’ve had comedic moments in projects I’ve done in the past, this was the first time I genuinely felt like I had more than just a glimpse of a comedic spark. It felt like the comedy was tangible and it was as if I could finally begin to mold moments to help them land just right with an audience. Maybe I’m starting to discover what my comedic voice sounds like? Maybe that’s a bit ambitious to say at this point in time. Maybe it’s the post-show grief talking. All I know is that in this moment I’m hungry for more comedic experimentation. Matilde gave me the gift of other people’s laughter during a time I needed it most. I am so thankful for her track in my life and I will truly miss channeling her sharp wit, Portuguese tongue, and dirty jokes.

The next few weeks are filled with a cornucopia of blessings. I’ve got a few workshops I have the fortune of participating in, both in San Diego, CA and in NYC. I will also start rehearsals for “A kaleidoscopic new play with unlimited mileage.” It’s too good a logline, I had to share it with y’all. This adventurous play by T. Adamson, titled “The Straights”, will be directed by the innovative and endlessly inspiring Will Detlefsen. This piece will be produced at JACK in Brooklyn, with a very, very limited run in early-mid December. I’ve met a few people involved in this labor of love and adventure and they give me a really good feeling about this one. Find more information about the show and tickets here.

There’s a little more cooking that I can’t speak to quite yet, but I will do my best to update you folks who have generously subscribed to my updates as more information comes to the surface. In the meantime, know that I am honored to have your eyes and minds witnessing my journey via this blog. Thank you for your energetic patronage.

Fever Dream

2018 was a Fever Dream. It was a miracle that continued to surprise me. As it unfolded, I found myself in awe of it’s familiar wonder. I felt like I dove into a wormhole, traveling at the speed of light. The San Diego Critics Circle awarded me the Craig Noel Actor of the Year Award for my body of work in 2017. I was part of a beautiful bouquet that was American Mariachi at the Denver Center for Performing Arts and the Old Globe, making friends who still enrich my life to this day. Those gems gave me the courage and strength to take a huge leap and jump into the raging river that is New York City. The Big City drove some serious whiplash into me— humbled my spirit and challenged me to dig deep and discover what I was really made of. I was blessed with multiple opportunities to witness the beginnings of new plays by participating in a few workshop readings, supporting friends in their developing projects, and catching a few productions of new plays that I am sure will be making rounds in the regional theatre world for years to come. I learned that the world really is so much smaller than we may think. I was ushered into a world of literal and spiritual magic that was El Huracán at Yale Repertory Theatre. There I met some seriously wise mentors who pushed me out of my comfort zone and nurtured my unconventional instincts and process. I traveled back to the West Coast to renew my spirits and refill my tank with love, sun, and laughter. After a year of pushing myself beyond the bounds of what I thought was possible, the Universe circled me back to participate in the workshop of a fantastic new play/work of technological art called Froggy at the La Jolla Playhouse in San Diego. 

Being back home, I realized just how much I have grown in one year. I have been overwhelmed with so much love, so many blessings, and so many lessons this past year, I’ve learned how important it is to truly stay present and enjoy the moment. I think we all can benefit from giving ourselves the space, just an extra sliver of a moment, to check in with our hearts before we take our next step. 

I spent this past New Years in my temporary creative cove in Houston, Texas. We have our first preview for The River Bride at Stages Repertory Theatre this Wednesday. This rehearsal process has given me the opportunity to genuinely put into practice these few notes 2018 offered me:

—It is so crucial to trust yourself, your stars, your instincts, and your path. 

—I’m still learning to keep an open heart despite the way the world can harden your spirit. 

—Being present takes practice, an awareness of your breath, undeniable gratitude, and true self-compassion. 

I am confident that 2019 will shower me with more lessons and love. May I stay open to receive them all with grace.

I took the leap

And the net appeared. 

I made the decision to move to New York a few months ago, despite not having any clue how I was going to make it work. I followed my gut instinct despite the seemingly crippling fear that comes with changing your life, and I have been witness to the old adage: "Everything you've ever wanted is on the other side of fear." I'm uncovering gold, both professionally and personally.

Since my move, I have had the blessing to play a part in the workshopping of one of Tony Meneses' new plays, twenty50, at The Lark, commissioned by the Denver Center for Performing Arts. Representation matters, and I was fortunate enough to be in a room with profoundly intelligent, reflective, and collaborative artists, all there to help refine and refocus Tony's story. I had a bout of post-show blues yesterday and today, but I left feeling so inspired in knowing that there are seeds of stories beginning to sprout that will continue to trail-blaze a new generation of representation.

I am so grateful for all the support that I've had during this move from folks back home and from the new community I have yet to meet. There is more on the horizon, some of which I cannot speak to just yet, but I'd love for you to join me on my voyage thru this wild space-time-continuum. Stay tuned...