Backstroking in Salsa: The Almost Blasphemy Tour meets Austin, TX

When the Almost Blasphemy Tour rolled into the wonderfully-weird mecca of Austin, TX, I was granted the rare opportunity to bring my work to my hometown. To be fair, I was actually born and raised in San Antonio, TX and lived there for eighteen years. But in the two years I spent in Austin, past college, I identified so much with this city that I feel I must call it home.

Texas is thought to be a very conservative place, and postcards conjure images of cowboys rolling thru cactus patches. As we drove through the pan-handle, we did indeed encounter teenagers roping up their horses as they walked into the convenience mart. We saw enough cattle to keep Arby’s in business for another century. But Austin is the artsy independent liberal oasis in Texas, whose culture is not much like the rest of the state. The city slogan is actually “Keep Austin Weird”. (If you live in Austin, you get a little tired of seeing it, but as a tourist, I actually bought a bumper sticker…)

Highlights of the three-day, packed adventure include: troughs of breakfast tacos and Tex-Mex cuisine, Texas dry smoked BBQ brisket, BYOB mini-golf, dunking our feet in Barton Springs (I do not jest, February swimming is usually fair game in Texas), a wacky meander through the infamous ‘dirty sixth street’ (not for the faint of heart, it is like Times Square on tequila), trips to the Dog n Duck, shopping in South Congress, seeing Cambiare’s original production of Messenger No.4 at the BLUE theatre and catching up with dear friends and family. Oh right, and we did two plays.

The University of Texas at Austin English Department crowds are VERY well educated in classical literature and especially in Shakespeare. The Shakespeare at Winedale summer program has a long-standing relationship with the ASC, and their program culminates in a performance at the Blackfriars Playhouse. Many students that performed this year attended our Renaissance Run of ‘Tis Pity She’s a Whore, and it was awesome to be able to perform our fully-realized production for them, so they could witness the evolution of our process.

Both plays went over very well, and it was especially great to do ‘Tis Pity because we had not done a production of it in over a month. While I was rocking out in the pre-show I noticed many familiar faces in the audience, but I was most surprised to see my high school drama teacher sitting stage left. Dean Whitus is the reason I ventured into the world of theatre, and I could not have been more happy to show off my first big boy long-term acting gig to the man that inspired me to do this for a living.

I had high-school flashbacks of working waiting shifts at Joe’s Crab Shack, reeking of shrimp with strange cats following me in the parking lot. I used to day-dream for a more fulfilling life, and I remembered, “Wow. I am really doing this.”

-Michael Amendola (Dola)
(Puck, Starveling in A Midsummer Night’s Dream; Antigonus, 3rd Lord, Shepherd in The Winter’s Tale; Grimaldi, Banditti in ‘Tis Pity She’s A Whore.)

Murray State

It’s been colder than I expected. I’m grateful that I brought the jackets, mittens, and hat that I debated about, but wish I’d packed my jeans (I just recently discovered several immodest holes in the inseam of my most frequently-worn yoga pants, which leaves me with only one remaining pair—and it’s chilly!). Space in my suitcase is devoted to the following, ordered by volume: scripts, books, make-up for the shows, yoga mat, and clothing. I’ll be buying another pair of yoga pants and some jeans as soon as possible.

Food: The spinach salad greens are fresh and plentiful, which I am grateful for. I had a corn-dog today! Haven’t had one of those since YMCA camp as a kid.

Rooms: Comfy and clean—conveniently close to the theater and cafeteria on campus. The gym… AMAZING!

Performances—and we’ve had lots of them here—have been going well. We’ve had “two-a-days” for several days in a row now—morning shows for area high school students and evening shows for the college community. Audiences have looked to be around 200-500 in number. We’ve got 42 seats on stage! It’s a HUGE auditorium with a wide stage that’s been fun to play. I’m grateful for the vocal rest when we have it—it’s a big space to fill. So far we’ve been doing A Midsummer Night’s Dream, but tonight we’ll be doing The Winter’s Tale. I’m grateful to get into Paulina’s skin again and to let Helena gently rest for 24 hours or so. Tomorrow, Rick and I teach a workshop to 100+ 7th graders!

P.S.
During one of my “cross-arounds” to get to my entrance on the other side of the building (in this space, I have to go outside to get there), I ran into an old acquaintance from IDAHO who happened to be walking by! She said, “Bridget!” I said, “Ashley!” And we stared at each other amazedly (me in my Helena dress!) before I said, “I have to go! Or I’ll be late for my entrance! Come see the play! Tomorrow!” and I had to vanish again! What are the chances?!

--Bridget Rue
(Paulina, Time, Dorcas in The Winter’s Tale; Putana, Philotis in ‘Tis Pity She’s a Whore; Helena, 1st Fairy in A Midsummer Night’s Dream)

Midsummer on the Mount

I usually attempt to speak for myself and none other, but I cannot help but feel as if our time spent at St. Mary's on the Mount touched on some fundamental joy(s) of why it is we do this job of acting.

We have become very practiced at the performing of A Midsummer Night's Dream (repetition, people of the internet, might make anyone good at anything, if they practice it as often as we do this show), so the performing of it has become, for us, as much an exercise in voyeurism as it is a theatrical one. Or maybe that is what this job cannot help but be, especially within the constraints of this company's MO; when we say we can see you, we don't just mean when we're talking to you, and it's often when we're not talking at all that we get the most candid view.

One of my favorite activities as a passive, non-speaking stage presence, in fact, is to check audience responses to the jokes I've been seeing/enjoying for the better part of our time together. Watching people laugh at the polished bits of comic brilliance that constitute the Play Within a Play is probably my favorite part of my work day

So, to the matter of Mary: here we are, on a gorgeous roadside campus made up of the best kind of conflation of contemporary architectural efficiency with the looming elegance of stone-faced monastic aesthetic. It almost sneaks up on you, really. You've just passed Thurmont (a footnote on a side-scroll-landscape of American agri-monotony), and suddenly it just pops up from the fields: a golden Madonna overlooking the welfare of a campus of breathtakingly gorgeous students (no, seriously, it must be something in the food because all of these people were just plain pretty) , all wandering around what looks like the Google Campus's take on an abbey.

Like I said: Elegant.

Anyway, not withstanding the simpler joys of looking out into a sea of pretty people, doing Midsummer for these folks (three nights in a row, even) put me in a mind to consider what a bizarre and pleasant (and bizarrely pleasant) life I get to live while on the road. I get to do what I love for a living; live with people whose company I genuinely enjoy; move across the aforementioned agri-monotony with a tourist's appreciation for beauty (I mean, honestly, what excuse would I have had to visit any of these places if not through work?); and I get to meet the students and enthusiastic minds of the industry in which I'm trying so hard to keep my footing. And I'm getting paid!

It is a good time to be alive, people of the internet, and I'm glad that I get to talk about it with such a persistent grin on my face.

Thanks for reading, and we hope to see you soon.

--Daniel Stevens
(Cleomenes and Florizel in The Winter’s Tale; Florio in ‘Tis Pity She’s a Whore; Theseus and Mustardseed in A Midsummer Night’s Dream.)