During the week leading up to opening, we talked about the play to Indie Theater Now, New York Theatre Review, and got written up in The Broadway Blog.
Monica Byrne (What Every Girl Should Know) and Somewhere Safer playwright Lauren Ferebee talk North Carolina, adventures, and their journey to Fringe.
Fringe playwrights Dan Fingerman, Temar Underwood, Jonathan Wallace, Vincent Marano and Lauren Ferebee talk with Indie Theater Now's Martin Denton about the opportunities and challenges of Fringe.
The Broadway Blog's Fringe Round-Up.
Come see for yourself! Somewhere Safer opens tomorrow and perform through the 23rd.
Saturday, August 10, 2013
Friday, August 9, 2013
Thursday, August 8, 2013
"Bring the Noise": A Reflection on Persistence
By Patrick Woodall (Nathaniel Cox)
I'm afraid I have a little more in common with my character, Nathaniel, than I'm comfortable with. That is, I share probably all of his shortcomings verbally, certainly his lack of economy for language, most of his grandeur of ideas, and, sadly, little of his ultimate and inevitable profundity. All the same, I've been asked to write a few anythings on the dreams and hopes and fears and hopes again that we intend to address in Somewhere Safer. And so, in the tradition of men much greater than myself, I've gotten good and drunk and set myself to typing.
The word I can't seem to shake out of my head for the past few days is "persistence." It's a word easy to find in motivational rhetoric and probably more than a few corny inspirational posters, doubtlessly next to a big-eyed, furry animal in an adorably precarious spot. But it's an idea that finds little practical footing in our breakneck, movie-trailer-paced culture. Which is as much to say as, in a moment of inspired condescension, Dr. Patrick believes we as a society suffer from a bit of ADD. Seriously, though we must. As an extension of logic. Stimuli simply abound from the TV's that boast hundreds of channels (on demand!), to the card-deck-sized windows to the world that live in our pockets and purses. I've no interest in tackling our the cost and benefit of such a rhythm of attention generally, however, I think it's pertinent to note that, at current, our attention is a marketplace with a host of well-equipped competitors. Let's just tuck that away for a moment.
The word I can't seem to shake out of my head for the past few days is "persistence."
Anyway, I read, on my marvelous little world-window (on which I also do crosswords and play fantasy basketball), a comment made by President Obama today. In this instance, he spoke in that way he does from time to time that startles me into remembering that he cares. Honestly. The man can convey true give-a-shit like few others who have sat at that desk. It's easy to take as a given the dulled empathy of those in power; but, on the very same screen that tells me my Thai delivery is on the way, our President found occasion to remind me of something real and notable. That he's devoted his life to affecting change. On purpose. The degree to which he's been successful and the degree to which that success has been "good" for the country is a debate we'll leave for talking heads with a broader reach and sexier segment graphics. But this is a man who has spent most of the waking, working hours of his life trying to make the world, and specifically our nation, better. He's not alone. By no means do I intend to single out our President as unique pillar of civil service. He just happened to be the one who jogged my memory. And that's likely because he was my first love.
Hang in there, I know that was a bit of an All My Children paragraph break. I mean politically. To abridge a not very unusual story, I fell for Senator Barack Obama completely on that magical evening in Boston at the DNC in 2004. He talked about an America I understood. Complete with convictions and contradictions, triumphs and shortcomings, hubris and apprehensions, but most importantly, the irrepressible hunch that we're all somehow better together. And that we can, and indeed must, move forward together toward whatever is next. I was in Central Texas when I heard the future president talk about how "we worship an awesome god in the blue states … and yes, we've got some gay friends in the red states," and I knew he was talking to me. I don't happen to be gay, but as a West Texan who was tired of hearing his native accent only used to drive the kind of wedges between our people that this speech deconstructed, I dug my fingers into the arms of my chair and memorized that man's face. He got it. The idea that we've all got about what we can be. Nathaniel is fond of quoting Whitman, so I will too: “Do I contradict myself? Very well, then I contradict myself, I am large, I contain multitudes.” That happens to be from Song of Myself, but for rhetorical purposes, we'll pretend it's from Song of America (note: not a real thing). It well could be. We're a large land mass with a complicated history encompassing nearly a half a billion people of diverse values and thoughts and dreams and fears. And that can be what makes us great. Or it can be what keeps us from each other.
We're a large land mass with a complicated history encompassing nearly a half a billion people of diverse values and thoughts and dreams and fears.
And here's where persistence comes in. Remember that? I said it a while back, before I got all sentimental about a campaign that sort of started nine years ago. In my defense, I also mentioned our collective attention issues before embodying them accidentally and completely. In any case, I followed that man's rise to the Presidency with vigor and verve and avid podcast listenership. I joined email lists and regularly called my representatives and buried myself in the fever of hope that overtook the electoral majority in 2008. And since then, not so much. It's not that I haven't regularly read the news or even phoned my congresswoman. I have. But I've also had jobs and vacations and family events and the Mavericks won a championship (the last of which, I'm not ashamed to say, consumed at least a full month of my undivided attention), which is fine. In fact, it's normal. It's life. It can be relied on to occur. But as my life happened, this guy I fell for once took office and tried to keep a monsoon going as the storm died down. And, depending on the news climate of the week and what's showing in theaters, I may or may not have the time to keep abreast. I may even care enough about a given issue to click my signature onto moveon.org. Or sign Barack's birthday card on a lonely afternoon. But, like the twilight of a first love, it's just not the same.
...a cacophony of noise never did anything but make things harder for folks who like to dictate how things should be done.
Here's the truth though, avid readers who have made it through my over-long sentences until now: this is the part they all waited for. I'm going to use "they" here to mean anyone who stands to gain from things staying exactly as they are. I mean the very broadest definition of corporatist, sub-human, successfully lobbied interests. "They" are very real and much more effectively and thoroughly defined elsewhere, so I'll stick to pronouns. When we were the loudest and most interested and dissatisfied and Will-I-Am tore youtube to shreds, "they" were saying, "just wait, they'll get distracted." When Occupy demanded rational examination of distribution, "they" sat tight and waited. Then they exerted potent and persistent interest like only the professionally interested can. Or so "they" think. Yeah, that reads like the worst Rage Against the Machine line ever not written. What of it? The point is, to this young and easily romanced, slightly sauced citizen, that a cacophony of noise never did anything but make things harder for folks who like to dictate how things should be done. We have an unprecedented marriage of right and ability to stir shit up. On youtube and twitter and blogs and books and stages. I hope that's exactly what we do with Somewhere Safer. I hope we continue to fill the many microphones available to us with all our questions and demands and visions. It's when the voices and the noise die down, and the siren song of silent contentment drowns out the hunch that we can be better, that we're losing to those who lie wait for our passive acquiescence. Here's a radical thought: can we outlast them? Can we be so, cloyingly persistent that we carry debates and bill passages and elections on the waves of our unceasing racket? I feel like it's worthy finding out. Since I'm not in fact Nathaniel, I can reach outside Whitman and leave you with Public Enemy:
"Bring the noise, it's the moment they feared.
Harder than you think, it's still a beautiful idea."
Patrick Woodall plays speechwriter Nathaniel Cox in Somewhere Safer, which opens August 11th as part of the 2013 NYC International Fringe Festival. Find out more about the play or buy tickets here.
Wednesday, August 7, 2013
What is our duty as American citizens? A reflection on the musings of five present-day revolutionaries.
by Adriana DeGirolami (Renee Ramirez)
I was fortunate enough to have attended Lauren Ferebee's Insurrection Roundtable last night, hosted by a panel of wildly intelligent, empathetic and thoughtful modern-day activists who all had remarkable things to say about our responsibilities as participants in society - should be choose to engage - and our larger duties as Americans in the wider scope of the world at large. While the spectrum of perspectives was largely leftist, if not exclusively so, the opinions were varied and informed, often from a first hand account of everything from the OWS movement to a three year stint in prison.
Personally, I resonated most
profoundly with political
commentator and activist Matt Sky who insisted that the current state of
apathy plaguing the large majority of Americans stems from a
complicated, over-saturated and even passive absorption of the news. He
believes, and I agree, that in order for people to feel invested and
motivated to partake in the further development of our society and
culture, not only must the content of our various news outlets be more
relevant on a local level, but even the format must take a more
accessible form. This does not mean catering to the lowest denomination,
but rather simplifying its message so that the audience can more
readily grasp the material and, ideally, get involved.
Overall, it is
our responsibility as citizens of this country to respect the freedoms
we've been blessed with as Americans and demand from the government and
our news sources to provide unbiased, relevant information so that we
may best assist in the maturation of our nation. Once armed with insight
we can move the mountains of complacency that have the residents of our
country enclosed and ignorant. It's simply unacceptable to be
uninformed in this day and age. Having said that, what I witnessed last
night was the best representation of hard-earned wisdom and inspired
vision I have seen in a long time. And I woke up this morning hopeful.
Very hopeful, indeed.
Adriana DeGirolami plays congressional aide Renee Ramirez in Somewhere Safer, which opens Sunday, August 11th as part of the 2013 NYC International Fringe Festival. Find out more about the play here, or purchase tickets.
Tuesday, August 6, 2013
An Interview with Terra Mackintosh (Annabella Leeds)
I had the chance to ask the lovely Terra Mackintosh a few questions this week about her role in the play and her experiences in the world at large. In SOMEWHERE SAFER, Terra plays photographer Annabella Leeds, a portrait photographer with a wartime past.
LF: I know you share some characteristics in real life with your character Annabella. Tell me a little bit about your experiences as a photographer and how they have come to bear on your work.
TM: To begin, I would not really consider myself a photographer (though I appreciate the compliment!), I just happened to find myself in cool places with a camera. That said, my experiences photographing my travels has definitely fed into my work on this piece. Similar to Annabella, I am drawn more towards portrait photography. Unlike her, I have never been in an area of conflict or witnessed an act of terror, though I do have a couple photos in my collection that hit me in my gut when I see them. Because when you take someone’s photograph, you capture their vulnerability, or strength, or fear, or joy, and you are bound to them. Annabella’s photographs carry a lot of weight for her. They are in her bones, relentlessly reminding her of her responsibility to the world. It is a difficult thing, to be blessed with a talent like hers. I do not envy her.
LF: In some ways, Annabella is also very different to you. Talk a little bit about your research. What have you discovered?
TM: I did quite a bit of research for this role because Annabella has a lot of emotional scars that I wanted to portray with respect. She has been witness to some horrific events at her young age, and she returns from the war a very different person than when she left. I had to start by understanding war and the life of a photojournalist. I am a very visual person, so I looked at photographs and watched a lot of documentaries. The most fascinating discovery I made was in the eyes of those who have lived through war. Before the war, they were bright, clear, and full of life. Afterwards, they were empty, tired, dark, and broken. I based a lot of my development of Annabella around this concept, allowing what her eyes have seen at different points in her life to affect the way she moves through the world.
I also discovered the stunning work of Stacy Pearsall, Tim Hetherington, and many other photojournalists. I revere them, the work they do/did, their incredible passion, and their commitment to exposing the truth. If you have a moment, look through Michael Kamber’s Photojournalists on War; The Untold Stories from Iraq. As civilians, there is so much we never see, so much that is censored by the government. I always considered myself to be well-informed on the conflicts, but through my preparation for this role, I found that I was very, very wrong.
LF: Tell me about a travel experience that has profoundly affected you. What do you feel like you have learned about the world that you wouldn't otherwise have learned?
TM: This story is not unique to me (Bono tells of a similar experience in his TED talk), but it is one that haunts me nonetheless. My family and I were in the southern region of Ethiopia, driving about eight hours that day to get to our next lodging, when we stopped to stretch. There was a very small village across the road, and in a matter of seconds every inhabitant of the village came running towards us. I was soon surrounded, the women and children fascinated by my light skin and blond hair. A woman was holding her small son nearby, and he began to reach for me. She came over and placed him in my arms. As I held him, I could feel fluid in his lungs with each labored breath he took. I am not a doctor, but I was fairly certain that if whatever this was went untreated, it could lead to serious problems for him. I just held him a little tighter, feeling helpless and overwhelmed by the need of this region.
It was time for us to get on the road, so I handed the child back to his mother and walked to the car. As I turned around to say goodbye, the woman was standing next to me, offering me her son. She was trying to put him back into my arms, motioning for me to take him with me, pleading as I looked her in the eyes and said I was so sorry, I couldn't take him. I climbed in, close the door, and she continued to hold him out to me. I watched her as we pulled away, in our comfortable car on our way to the next exotic destination, and I fell apart.
There is a heaviness to bearing witness and it can be completely debilitating, but we have a responsibility to look. Annabella uses her camera to tell these stories, and I use my words. Sometimes I question myself, and the questions posed by Hal in the play are very real for me as well. Is what I do enough? Am I just "burning through fucking time?" I don't know. I don't think any of us know. All we can do is move forward and not forget where we have been.
LF: What drew you to the story of Somewhere Safer?
TM: To be frank, it is a smart play written by a woman, with female characters of strong conviction and passion (who have more to talk about than men and clothes). This is, unfortunately, a rarity and therefore an opportunity I couldn't pass up.
When I read the breakdown, I obviously felt drawn to Annabella, but I was also struck by the overall themes of the piece. It addresses issues that should be having a direct effect on our decision-making as a country, yet are often overlooked. Lauren does a fantastic job of examining all sides of the argument, giving equal and unbiased weight to each. It is through this that the play is able to provoke discussion of what our responsibilities are as a citizen of the United States and of the world.
one of Terra's photographs from her travels
Somewhere Safer opens at the 2013 NY International Fringe Festival on August 11th. For tickets, please visit fringenyc.org. Saturday, August 3, 2013
Press Roundup #1: Visible Soul, TVWriter.com, nytheatre.com
Heading into tech and opening week, we've had some great opportunities to talk about the play!
Our press release on broadwayworld.com
Playwright Lauren Ferebee's interview with Zack Calhoon
Lauren also had the opportunity to podcast with Indie Theater Now's Martin Denton and fellow FringeNYC playwrights Temar Underwood, Vincent Morano, Dan Fingerman and Jonathan Wallace - coming this week on iTunes.
Make sure to follow us on Twitter @somewheresafer and keep checking our website for updates.
Wednesday, July 17, 2013
a feeling of justice
"What we need in the United States is not division; what we need in the United States is not hatred; what we need in the United States is not violence and lawlessness, but is love and wisdom, and compassion toward one another, and a feeling of justice toward those who still suffer..."
Robert F. Kennedy
I am having trouble putting words together this week, and it
is not just because I have been spending all my waking moments in front of my
computer, working on a final production draft for Somewhere Safer, crafting the last few pieces of the play’s puzzle.
It is because this week and the week before that have been,
in my personal political sphere, explosive weeks. I have learned a lot about the practical
aspects of the American judicial system and the inner workings of state
legislatures. I have burned up with anger and felt the bottom of my stomach
drop with sadness, and through it all I have endeavored to stay focused on the
work at hand, the work of making a play, because it was something I could do,
and keep doing, and it was a way to put humanity back into the world, back into
an exploration of an unjust system.
One of the questions at the core of Somewhere Safer that I have been thinking a lot about this week: at
what point do we give up our humanity? At what point are we so attached to
ideology, to being right about what we believe, that we fail to see that at the
center of every system and every principle is a lonely human struggle?
At the core of these struggles this week, in Texas, in
Florida, in Ohio, in North Carolina, I found hope in the human mess that came
out in response, swinging their hearts in their hands, opening their mouths,
exercising their rights as American citizens to take up space in their own
government. When we stand, shoulder to
shoulder, with other humans, we locate our own struggle, our own lives, our own
hearts, in a larger, bigger fight. We become a body made up of bodies, thinking, feeling,
bodies, fragile and sad and joyful, holding up history with our own two hands.
Somewhere Safer opens August 11th at the NYC International Fringe Festival. You can contribute to the play here and read a preview with Lauren here.
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