by Jess Helmke
At Home with Emily Dickinson
I told myself, "I should have brought my favorite pen. Or maybe my secret stash of amateur poems? Some decorated stationary perhaps? Then again, freshly baked sugar cookies are sure to do the trick. . . ."
I was finally going to meet her. The dark, secluded and intriguing poetic genius herself, Ms. Emily Dickinson. I waited patiently and quietly in my chair for over an hour, but she never showed.
Instead, a woman dressed in white, full of tenacity, vigor and passion coyly offered me a pastry.
"I thought she was depressed?" I wanted to ask the usher, as I double checked the program.
But vivacious Helen Merino continued to speak there on the stage before us, occasionally sipping tea, ever so properly, almost childlike. She drifted from one setting to another like a cloud, holding one prop then another, grounding herself and beaming familiarity. Her attention engagingly hopped through a series of delightful stories with never a threatening intention, and I could almost smell Massachusetts in the fall. Amherst was her menagerie, her home, her paradise. I felt so thoughtfully selected by Ms. Emily that by the time she told me I was a poem and she loved me, I believed her.
How is it she could express her thoughts with such precision and diction that her writings blended into the monologue with the ease of tempera color into water? When the time came, Emily addressed the issue of her eccentricity. Some would call it wit, but to me it seemed to be simple honesty, truth during a time when society was more aware of the likeness of men than of its own expectations of gracious womanhood. She spoke mainly of how she always different.
But what insanity it was to imagine she was ever awkward or unbeautiful in any way! She was set her apart from the others by her respect for precision in thought, an acknowledgment of surroundings, and her belief in the delicacy of life. It wasn't the all-white clothing or anonymous poetry in her journals. Emily Dickinson was intensely in love with words.
By intermission, I was ready to put a ring on her finger. Where had she been all my life? Could all the critics and literary analysts of the past of been wrong? It appeared so. With The Belle of Amherst Austin Shakespeare gave me my holiday blessing in disguise. The world on the stage and the places she spoke of became intensely real. I instantly recognized not the loneliness but instead the aloneness of great writers. I remembered the yearning and urgency of the artist to tell a story. And I basked in the happiness of a woman living in the merriment of her poetry.
Someone once stopped by the Dickinson homestead how to get to a certain address. Emily directed her to the town cemetery.
As for as the hermit, the shadow of a woman I was expecting to meet? A tide must have stolen her, because thanks to Helen Merino the actress, William Luce the playwright, and Austin Shakespeare, I met the most glowing soul in the theatre yesterday. And to think, she'd been there all along.
Good one, Ms. Emily. Definitely worth writing about.
Following is the eighteenth chapter of Lars Gustafsson's novel The Dean, translated by Michael Meigs.
Chapter 18: Pages from the Same Book
Well, well, so you’re one of those who believes that time exists?
The truth is that out here I’m on my way to losing my sense of the sequence of events. It’s as if time were no longer so important here. I feel a bit as if I were in the world of Schopenhauer. When he says that “reality” and “dreams” are pages from exactly the same book. Only that we read them in a somewhat different manner.
Wasn’t that the beginning of the Dean’s story?
“He was sitting there one morning, without any warning you might say, on a camping chair with the right leg crossed nonchalantly over the left, a leg that he playfully swung up and down – as if he wanted to remind me that I could no longer move my own. That appeared to me to be a completely unnecessary affront. And that leg he was swinging was in battle fatigues that were unusually well pressed for a camp outside Saigon. His uniform had medical insignia and he wore the rank of a full colonel.
“He was wearing a surgeon’s mask over his mouth and nose. Strangely enough that did not hinder me from hearing everything, unusually clearly, that the unusual doctor had to say. In fact I couldn’t see anything more than a pair of gold-rimmed glasses. Perhaps they were misted over? In any case I couldn’t perceive any proper eyes behind the glasses. And I had a strong feeling of being examined. More, in fact: examined with keen curiosity.
“Clearly he had something to do with me since he was sitting there as confident as if his sole assignment was to watch over me. Was I really so significant and interesting that I justified such total, patient attention? I had the impression, I don’t know why, that he had been sitting there day after day, watching me with the same nonchalant and curious attentiveness.
“Shouldn’t a surgeon in a field hospital in the midst of such an going enormous battle have a bit more than that to do?
“ ‘Excuse me, colonel,’ I said, surprising myself as I heard how weak and rusty my voice had become, as if it hadn’t been used for a very long time, ‘Sorry, but does the colonel have the correct time?’
“The voice that answered me was very cultivated, difficult to identify. Where had I heard it before! I knew that I recognized it from somewhere.
“ ‘But Uncle Ingram,’ I said. ‘How can you be here? And why are you dressed so strangely?’
“He put an admonitory finger before the place under the surgeon’s mask where his mouth should be. Clearly, he didn’t want to talk about it. But he was Uncle Ingram.
“Closer to a tenor than to a bass, a tenor that perhaps could hit all the possible notes in the male vocal range, who perhaps could easily be able to go down into the deepest bass, yes, somewhere even deeper than the usual deep register for a man. I knew, without his having used it, that he could just as easily turn into a coloratura soprano. How did I know that?
“It wasn’t a voice. It was something else. Something else that could be interpreted as a voice.
“ ‘Well, well,’ said that nasal, elegantly polite non-voice:
“ 'Well, well, so you’re one of those who believes that time exists?’
“ ’Actually, no. In fact not at all,’ I said. ‘I mean, I’m not so sure. Does it? Which time?’
“And it annoyed me that I clearly sounded like a nervous student at an examination. Who out of sheer desperation has begun to guess at the answer to a crucial exam question.
“As if he had hear my thought he said in fatherly fashion, in the easy manner of a company leader,
“ ‘It’s obvious that I’m your uncle, Ingram Chapman. Who has come here to keep an eye on you, my boy. But it would also be splendid if you called me Doctor Bob. All my other patients do. You see, one can’t be certain about all that to do with time. Perhaps there’s not so much before and after as you think.’
“ ’Then what does exist?’
“ ‘The spume of time. Everything else, I can promise you, is just chaos. If you knew how frightfully unprepared things are in the world your head would spin,’ he said with an almost aggrieved tone in his voice.
“ ‘Don’t blame me,’ he added quickly. ‘I’m not the one who invented the whole thing. The one who did, knew what he was doing. You can depend on that. He made certain that no one would be able to follow in his footsteps.
Click 'Read more' to continue reading Chapter 18
Booted from Blue Star, Jump-Start lands in Beacon Hill
By Deborah Martin : November 14, 2013
Jump-Start Performance Co. has found in Beacon Hill its new home.
The theater company learned in April that its lease at the Blue Star Arts Complex in Southtown would not be renewed. After looking at about 10 spaces, it has landed at a one-time artist's studio at 710 Fredericksburg Road, and are renting it from artist Rolando Briseño.
Jump-Start plans to announce its new home at a press conference Friday. The company also will announce changes to its programming approach and in its leadership structure.
“We're really happy to be in the neighborhood, because it's a revitalized neighborhood,” said Felice Garcia, the company's technical director, who will be overseeing much of the move into the new space.
Jump-Start has been based at the Blue Star Arts Complex for nearly 20 years. It plans to have its administrative offices moved out completely by Christmas. Its final performance in the space will be “Performance Party,” its annual New Year's show/party/fundraiser, on Jan. 11.
The company has a one-year commitment to the new space, said Erik Bosse, who handles the company's public relations.
“I'm very excited that Jump-Start is moving there,” Briseño said.
The company's new neighbors include a ceramics studio, Clamp Light Artist Studios and Gallery and the Uptown Studio, which offers dance classes and other arts-oriented activities.
Read more at Arts Beat, MySanAntonio.com
by Michael Meigs
There's some wickedly clever entertainment taking place down in the cellar of Playhouse San Antonio, where playwright-actor David Davalos is doing saucy stand-up comedy set in early 16th century Germany.
In the second scene of Hamlet, Claudius the new king informs the prince, "For your intent in going back to school in Wittenberg, It is most retrograde to our desire." That university in Saxony, nearly a century old when Shakespeare was writing, was reputed in Elizabeth's Protestant England both for learning and for the years of dramatic controversies that began there with Martin Luther's public challenge to the Pope Leo X's approval of the practice of selling forgiveness. The Holy Father's indulgence in indulgences was a funding mechanism for rebuilding St. Peter's in Rome.
Davalos takes that rich set of circumstances and adds another element. What if that other great symbolic figure Dr. Faustus was on the Wittenberg faculty at the same time?
Imagining Wittenberg as a late medieval version of an American-style university, Davalos puts Faustus on the philosophy faculty, devoted to independent inquiry, presents Martin Luther as a somber senior lecturer in theology, and portrays the undergraduate Hamlet as indecisive, moody, and something of a slacker. And so the fun begins.
The playwright doesn't do so, but one could align this mischief neatly with the medieval physics of the four basic elements: ficitional Hamlet (Sam Mandelbaum) represents air, brooding Luther (Andrew Thornton) is earth, and irreverent doubter Faustus (Davalos himself) is fire. Complete the tetralogy with water: the changeable, alluring 'Eternal Feminine' manifested by Christina Casella in a succession of characters.
Wittenberg isn't a Hamlet prequel. It's a stand-up comedy act by Davalos as Faustus, the self-certain socratic-style doubter of all. He teases his good friend and straight man Martin Luther, who's annoyed by the practices of the church, dour about teaching and thoroughly constipated (both physically and spiritually). Luther gives as good as he gets, and much of the amusement in the show arises from the opposed personalities of the faculty colleagues (with his medical qualifications, Faustus offers physical and psychiatric diagnoses to the theologian who's more preoccupied with church practice and doctrine). There are a couple of zingers involving St. Augustine (Luther was of the Augustinian order).
The playwright's happy indulgence in anachronism provides opportunities for some Monty-Python-type digs: Faustus entertains at the student pub on open-mic night, those 95 theses get posted on the church door amid a welter of other university-style flyers, and Halloween costumes feature prominently in the second act (Faustus' get-up serves as foreshadowing, while Luther's is a visual joke so subtle that we don't get it until Thornton reveals it with droll understatement).
Hamlet is a secondary character to all of this and the senior faculty don't have much time for him onstage. Sam Mandelbaum's physical appearance is appropriate for the melancholy Dane, but he might have been more comic if director Bill Gundry had encouraged him to use self-consciously dramatic diction. Hamlet serves to fill up some time in the second part as half of a tennis match with an unseen challenger (Laertes, visiting from Paris) and in the unexplained, somewhat engimatic rapture of witnessing the visitation of the Holy Virgin.
I found myself wishing that Davalos had written more for Christina Casella, who's attractive and confident. After all, Shakespeare didn't limit his feminine characters to sexy barmaids, sluts, virgins and messengers with little to say. Incidentally, Casella, the theatre's education and outreach director, is also a dab hand at costume design.
The Playhouse cellar isn't an easy space to work in. Set designer Ryan Deroos employs a tidy little inner stage for special scenes, and most of the action takes place in the central square with the audience on three sides. Lighting was uncomfortably general most of the time. Spots illuminating aisles used for entrances cast glare into the eyes of sections of the audience. One waggish bit called for Hamlet to settle in the audience as if sitting in a lecture hall, but when the special spot came up on his assigned location, an unsuspecting audience member had moved to occupy the space, so Mandelbaum was alongside in the dark.
Wittenberg is principally about Faustus, played by Davalos, who's onstage most of the time. He has most of the jokes; he gets the upper hand most of the time; he manifests a huge ego. And frankly, he gets pretty obnoxious, although one can't help but like his exuberance.
Despite his advocacy of free-spirited inquiry and free will, Faustus is just as fated as the prince and professor of religion. The message, only lightly touched upon, is that Wittenberg is also a credible prequel for the spectacular self-destruction depicted in The Tragical History of Doctor Faustus, familiar to us both via Marlowe and via Goethe.
Review by Jenni Morin, Theatre for Change, Nov 1
Review by Diane Windeler, Incident Light, Nov 4
Review by Jeff Davis, Broadway World, Nov 11
Review by Steven G. Kellman, SA Current, Nov 13
Click to view excerpts from the program of Wittenberg at Playhouse San Antonio
by Michael Meigs
Kirk Lynn's script isn't Shakespeare. Fixing King John is a tight, fast story with dialogue full of fucking obscenities, one certainly not suited for PBS but maybe a possibility for HBO.
E. Jason Liebrecht creates King John as an edgy, angry, powerful capo with the force of Jimmy Cagney and the morals of Tony Soprano.
Director Madge Darlington puts the Rude Mechs' staging into the confined space of their Off-Shoot rehearsal studio behind the Off-Center in east Austin. Audience members -- no, make that spectators, practically participants -- arrive to find the big room already milling with cast members in casual contemporary dress. The seating is equally casual, around a central space that has the feel of a gym or a ring for a wrestling match. Risers on two sides of it feature a couple of high-placed rows of chairs for conventional seating with wide platforms below them, and across the playing space are wooden towers with plywood platforms to accommodate watchers. It's a makeshift settle-where-you-wish assemblage directly reminiscent of the Mechs' re-staging of Dionysus in 69 here in 2009 and 2012.
Lynn's reworking of the little-read (and less-acted) Shakespeare history play, written about 1590 but not mentioned in contemporary accounts or published until the 1623 Folio, is a drastic and coherent restructuring. He reduces a cast of 24 characters to one of 10, and he so reworks relations and plot elements that even if you'd actually read this neglected work you might not recognize it.
And the language! Though Lynn's first draft methodically rendered the original verse into pungent contemporary speech, his revisions and remakings fixed it so parallelisms all but disappeared. Take this example, from the opening scene:
by William Shakespeare
Fixing King John
by Kirk Lynn
Act I, Scene I, lines 1-25
Philip of France, in right and true behalf
Of thy deceased brother Geffrey’s son,
Arthur Plantagenet, lays most lawful claim
To this fair island and the territories,
To Ireland, Poictiers, Anjou, Touraine, Maine,
Desiring thee to lay aside the sword
Which sways usurpingly these several titles,
And put the same into young Arthur’s hand,
Thy nephew and right royal sovereign.
What follows if we disallow of this?
The proud control of fierce and bloody war,
To enforce these rights so forcibly withheld.
Here have we war for war and blood for blood,
Controlment for controlment: so answer France.
Then take my King’s defiance from my mouth,
The farthest limit of my embassy.
Bear mine to him, and so depart in peace.
Be thou as lightning in the eyes of France;
For ere thou canst report, I will be there;
The thunder of my cannon shall be heard.
So hence! Be thou the trumpet of our wrath,
And sullen presage of your own decay.
An honorable conduct let him have.
Pembroke, look to’t. Farewell, Chatillion.
Exeunt Chatillion and Pembroke.
Act I, Scene I
Everything you see is KING JOHN'S castle. And lookit,
KING JOHN is on his throne. He looks gooood. He's the
home team along with his mom, QUEEN ELINOR, and
PEMBROKE, and anyone else you see. Anyone except that
slick DAUPHIN, who's on a visit from France.
[. . . skipping to pg 2, from line 5]
[. . .] my father sent me here to tell you this:
Step aside! Stop pretending to be the great King of
England, because really—truly it’s your nephew, Arfur, who
has the most reason to pretend that game. Whoop! We're
telling you to step aside and let Arfur be the next King——
of England, Ireland, Poitiers, Anjou, Touraine, Maine and
all that. All that. And now forget I was the King of
France, pretending——and now pretend I’m every single one of
the citizens who live in every single one of those
shitholes in your kingdom I just listed, paying taxes,
sleeping, making love on one another, dying and all that
and listen as we say to you: Take off your hat. Take off
your hat and put it on Arfur’s head. We’ll all be happier
when you do.
If Arfur wants my crown he’s gonna hafta come back from the
grave and chop off my head to get it, ‘cause I’ll kill a
motherfucker today just for scheduling a thought like that
tomorrow. Fuck Arfur. Tell Philip that. Then what?
Total fucking all-out war. Whoop, whoop! And it’s not
just gonna be people dressed in high fashion from France
coming at you with army swords. No. Cuz we’re not trying
to take the throne from England. We’re just trying to give
it to the best English guy for the job. So you’re gonna
have people attacking you that dress like you, and talk
like you, and look like you, and cousins, and nephews, and
sisters, and anybody who ever disagreed with a tax, or a
law, or a decree they didn’t like coming after you. So you
can see, that’s a hard fucking war to win.
All right. You tell France I just said, ‘All right.’
What’s that in French? Just to say, ‘Great. Let’s do it.
Fuck you. No big deal.’ I ain’t afraid to kill French
people. I ain’t afraid to kill ANYBODY that comes after me.
Say that to Philip. Like, no big deal. All right. What’s
that in French? Like, ‘No biggie.’ You gotta a phrase for
Look in my mouth. You imagine you’re a great King? You
got a good imagination. Look in my mouth and see my king’s
response pouring out at you like a sewer. The nastiest
shit you can imagine just pumping from my heart, up outta
my mouth all over your stupid costume and your fake throne
and filling up this fucking wayside inn you call a castle
till you drown in our bile. Fuck you, too.
I want you outta my country quick like lightning, and by
the time you get home to your little fucking poodle farm
you’re gonna hear the thunder of my cannons blowing up your
home, your mom, your dad, your brothers and sisters, your
dog. BOOM. You’re like the tip of the sword I’m gonna put
in King Philip's mouth and keep pushing ‘til he feels the
hilt of it on his chin.
Shut up, Pembroke. I'm gonna trust you with this snake.
Make sure he gets aimed straight back to France, as quick
as can be. And Dauphin? Remember what I said. 'Let’s do
it. Fuck you. No big deal.'
See you later, DAUPHIN. See you later, PEMBROKE.
Lynn's thoughtful note in the program describes his composition process, and on their website the Mechs in their characteristic irreverent, ironic style state, "In some ways, we're offering you a more authentic experience of what a new Shakespeare play might be like than an actual Shakespeare play. In other ways, not so much."
After all, Elizabethan playwrights borrowed liberally from one another and freely reworked earlier works. G.B. Harrison identifies Shakespeare's source as a two-part anonymous work printed in 1591 titled The Troublesome Raigne of John King of England and reprinted in 1611 with the addition of the words 'Written by W. Sh.' -- "a dishonest attempt to pass it off as Shakespeare's work." (Maybe some of it was Shakespeare's work, considering that Harrison writes at length about the uneven quality of the accepted text of King John.)
Video promo for Guys and Dolls at Playhouse San Antonio, December 6 - 22, 2013, from Grande Communications (30 sec.)
Guys and Dolls
Directed by Michelle Pietri
Book by Jo Swerling and Abe Burrows, Music and Lyrics by Frank Loesser
December 6 – 22, 2013
Shows Thursday (December 12 & 19), Fridays and Saturdays at 8 p.m. & Sundays at 3 p.m. & 8 p.m.(December 22).
The Playhouse SA | 800 West Ashby, San Antonio, TX 78212 (click for map)
Tickets: Adults - $25, Seniors (60 plus), Emergency Services, and Military w/ ID - $20, Students w/ ID - $15, Children (12 and under) - $10.
The stakes are high in this vibrant family classic as two gamblers bet their way toward the oldest established, permanent floating crap game in town… and love.
Call 210-733-7258 or visit www.ThePlayhouseSA.org for tickets
This talented cast includes:
Sky Masterson- Chris Berry -- Sarah Brown- Caroline Kittrell -- Nathan Detroit- Miguel Ochoa -- Miss Adelaide- Paige Blend
A trailing trailer for the performances of Power Up! carried out September 21 and 22, 2013 in Austin before audiences of 6,000 persons, posted today by Forklift Danceworks:
Dec. 14 & 15
at St. Michael's Academy - Gloria Delgado Theatre
3000 Barton Creek Blvd.
Austin, TX 78735 - click for map
TexARTS Youth Ballet Theatre presents the classic story of The Nutcracker! Bring the whole family and be swept off your feet as this holiday favorite comes to life on stage! Come join a festive party and watch in wonder as the Sugar Plum Fairy hosts a dazzling array of dances! Special guest stars include members of the Lakeway community and students from Texas State University and UT at Austin.
Directed and choreographed by Darren Gibson. December 14 at 2pm and 6pm, December 15 at 2pm. Cost: $15.00. Tickets available at tex-arts.org or by calling the box office at 512-852-9079 x101
by Michael Meigs
Oh Dragon Theatre Company's choice of the Grayduck Gallery just off south First Street as the venue to stage Will Eno's The Flu Season is appropriate. The white walls, open space, and angled positioning of the seats for the audience create a stark setting for a stark play. In his odd little fable of anomie, set in a mental clinic, Will Eno tells a story that could squeeze our hearts if only he didn't keep relentlessly undercutting our reactions.
This institution is a holding space with the mission of assisting fragile souls to put their pieces back together. Newly admitted 'Man' (Nicholaus Weindel) is interviewed by the Doctor (Ky Cleveland) and newly admitted 'Woman' is brought on board by the Nurse (Victoria Jackson). Each caretaker is garrulous and self-absorbed; each admittee seems stunned. We learn a lot about the staff members, almost all of it irrelevant to the central question suggested by the structure: why are these two here at all?
Rounding out the cast are the Prologue (Kendra Pérez) and the Epilogue (Ben Howell) -- although neither exercises the announced function. They comment throughout the play. Pérez has a reassuringly pert demeanor that's balanced by Howell's arch, cynical responses. Playwright Eno uses 'Epilogue' in a deliberately 'meta' approach. Epilogue's voice seems to be that of the playwright, drawing attention to the conventions of the drama and insistently questioning the value of his own creation.
In a 2009 review of an earlier production of this script by Austin Community College, I acknowledged that I found it 'aggravating,' Southern dialect for 'intentionally provocative,' but I admired the language and the images Eno used in this deliberately mundane setting.
Both in its title and in the cycle of its action, The Flu Season suggests the eternal predictability of human existence. Strangers meet, bond, become intimate, quarrel, separate, die; seen from the outside, those intensely personal stories are reduced to clinical histories. We watch two couples here. The young wounded grasp feebly for feeling and their placid elders bumble about and bond in routine and mediocrity. In fact, there's a third couple: Prologue and Epilogue stand at conventional literary remove from the story, disputing one another's declarations without directly addressing one another, like a couple long married with never a meeting of the minds.
In this reverberant setting of bare walls, actors must articulate with utmost clarity, and the Oh Dragon cast is uneven in this. Pérez is best, with the advantage of playing a cockeyed optimist, and her counterpart Howell is very nearly as good. Liz Tabish portrays Woman with a waif-like vulnerability, but her voice is often dampened and difficult to hear, as if playing to a camera rather than to a live audience. Victoria Jackson's UK accent is not an obstacle in itself, but the audience would benefit from a more precise separation of her words and sentences.
The gradual, inevitable attraction of Man and Woman is aptly played by Weindel and Tabish, and the shouting and violent emotion of their breakdown is gripping. We're amused by the collegiality of the appropriately mumbly doctor Cleveland and Jackson the Nurse, figures who are bemused and ordinary.
The Flu Season, Eno's first work, premiered in 2004. There is an amusing bit played in the institution's television room that lasts just a few seconds. We hear the voice of a news announcer who faulters and then has obviously lost her grip -- very much like the basic premise of his 2008 Tragedy: A Tragedy, presented just a few months ago at the Hyde Park Theatre.
Eno's outlook didn't change: life happens, we ponder it and try to pin it down with language, but meanings slip away into superficialities. His comedies are tragedies, but his tragedies are adrift, without heroes. Eno reflects to us a sense of the emptiness of living without intimacy or lasting values, and he invites us to decipher the ironies.
The Flu Season is no easy undertaking. Director Carl Gonzalez and the cast create Eno's world, and they do it well. They maintain the pace and the tension throughout, and they leave us with no easy answers -- exactly as the playwright instructed them to do.
Click to view the playbill for The Flu Season by Oh Dragon Theatre Company
Two Beards Theatre: Young Friends to Co-Producers
by Donna Marie Miller
www.austinfusionmagazine.com, October 16, 2013
A boyhood friendship that began more than a decade ago ignited a business partnership between the co-producers of Austin’s newest artistic troupe, Two Beards Theatre Company.
The founders, Andrew Robinson and Jacob Henry, teamed up to create Two Beards this fall and their first show, “Mr. Marmalade,” opened Oct. 4-5 at the hip East Austin Salvage Vanguard Theatre. The performances, which ran through Oct. 12, impressed the local community, according to comments left on the theatre company’s website. [Click for review by AustinLiveTheatre.com]
The 2006 play, written by Noah Haidle, combines humor with shock appeal – a 20-year-old actress played Lucy, the articulate four-year-old who dreams up an imaginary friend, an abusive businessman plagued by anger issues and addictions to pornography and cocaine.
With the production, Robinson says he and Henry vowed to “wow” their audiences. To do this, Henry narrowed his set design color choices to just two from the Crayola 100-crayon box selection — red and blue. Lighting designer Dylan Rocamora added profound hues to the stage’s ethereal scenes. This created a deeper and richer “out-of-this-world” experience for theatregoers.
“Since both Andrew and I were raised here, we knew that we wanted a show that was kind of edgy and weird,” Henry says. “It’s a great script and a great story that fits Austin.”
Robinson and Henry have worked together since attending Westview Middle School and John B. Connally High School in Northwest Austin. Henry, who is a year older than Robinson, was enrolled in seventh grade when Robinson started sixth grade at Westview.
Click to read more and view production photos be Embree Weaver at Austin Fusion magazine
There Is A Happiness That Morning Is by Mickle Maher, Capital Theatre at Hyde Park Theatre, October 24 - November 16, 2013
WE WERE NOTHING by Will Arbery, Poison Apple Initiative, December 11 - 21, 2013
Videos: FALL FOR DANCE, Dance Repertory Theatre, University of Texas, November 15 - 24, 2013
kidsActing presents "Frankenstein, " Center Stage Austin, December 8 - 15, 2013
Stars and Barmen by Reina Hardy, Vortex Repertory, October 26 - November 16, 2013
Winners of 2012-2013 B . Iden Payne Awards for Theatre Arts, Austin
Arts&Culture Texas Feature on Fixing King John by Kirk Lynn, Rude Mechs, November 7 - 24, 2013
Photos by Sydney Roberts for YERMA by Federico Garcia Lorca, Texas State University, San Marcos, November 19 - 24, 2013
(*) Rehearsal Video: Bloody Bloody Andrew Jackson at Woodlawn Theatre, November 8 - December 1, 2013
Austin Statesman feature on Fixing King John, Kirk Lynn's Adapation for the Rude Mechs, November 7 - 24, 2013
Page 6 of 89