Putting Down the Palette

A funny thing happened on the way to Chicago last weekend—my garage door remote wouldn't work. Wouldn't close the garage. It did eventually and off I went to pick up Lucidity and head for the windy city and the Region III AACTFest theatre competition.

I should have known that sticky garage door was a bad omen.

I'll spare everyone the suspense (and more than likely, if you know me or anyone in the cast, you already know how it all played out): we did not advance to the National Fest. I was going to write a post that went through the weekend in detail, mentioning the highlights of our adventures. But then it seemed really a bummer to go through all of that, build you up into a frenzy, and then pull the rug out when you find out we didn't win. It would be like if you watched Iron Will go through that entire "Iditarod" and then had to watch him lose the race, which, just to add salt to the wound, he really did... in real life his name was Fred and he lost. Yes, I know I'm besmirching the magic of a beloved Disney film, but it's not my fault that "Based on a true story" actually means "We made this up". For the record, I love the movie "Iron Will".

As for Schaumburg (the Chicago suburb where we performed), I had fun. I'll say it. Except for a few moments of not-fun (which culminated with a brain-numbing awards ceremony), the rest of the trip was a good time. There was a pool and a wicked hot-tub, which would have been overrun with the children of the corn had it not been for Smokey's efficient implementation of the hotel rules. There was Van Vogh vodka. And there were great friends (even if some of us were a tad snarky now and then) to share in the memories.

For me, it was truly a colliding of worlds as some of my family traveled to see us perform and some of my college roommates and their wives also trekked over from the suburbs. A good chunk of the people I love most in the world were there to see my last steps as the stick-up-the-arse art critic, Bouchard, and my final thundering moments as Gauguin. There were a few noticeable absences that night, but I know those people were thinking about me. I don't see them enough. My family or my college buddies. Or heck, my own roommates and local friends.

And, in that silver lining kinda way, I now have more time to do just that.

It's weird. Been doing this show in come capacity off and on for twenty months. Wasn't ready for it to end like this. We were all unpacking the truck when we got home Sunday night. We cracked jokes and laughed and I just reveled in the fact that I had just spent some amazing months of my life with this fantastic group of people. Of course I'll see many of them everyday. We'll move on to other shows. But this one... it spanned more than eight weeks. It wasn't just "a show". Not to us.





"Inventing Van Gogh" is a script you either love or you hate. I don't think the adjudicators liked the script or the concept or anything really. A couple of them seemed to compliment us and one went so far as to use words like "excellent", "perfect", and "beautiful", but in the end it didn't seem to matter and all of their nice words felt false in retrospect. For me, I equate these guys with impressionists. For as Gauguin says, "An impressionist is an artist who knows how to dazzle! But is incapable of insight." I think that sums it up quite nicely.

To me it doesn't matter what the judges thought. We love it. This script. This show. Everything about it. Always have, always will. On the first night of auditions, I had no idea going in that I'd miss it this much in the end. I'm going to miss talking like a prat. Gonna miss getting chills in the Bouchard/Halli/Miller moment when Hallie finds out her father died. I'll miss Bouchard. For all his slime, he was a blast to portray. And without a doubt, I will mourn for Gauguin. The thundering voice. The level to which I was pushed by my brilliant director (THANK YOU). The trust I found with this cast to better myself on stage.

Most of all, I will miss the verbal sparring matches between Gauguin and Van Gogh—between me and Keaton—for once we got the scene to where we wanted it, it was a rush. But you'll get that when you completely trust the person on stage with you; knowing that he's not holding back... and I don't mean force; I mean energy, talent, respect, passion, character. It's an inspiring scene and the most fun I've ever had on stage (and that's saying a lot because I've been lucky with the amount of fun I've gotten to have on stage over the years). Keaton my friend, I don't know if we'll ever find a scene to top that one, but if we do—it'll be a very good day.

So now what? Like I said... it's weird. Standing around that truck Sunday night, saying our goodbyes, it felt like the end of a tour or school or whatever ends after a long wonderful time with friends. And I don't think it's yet to completely sink in. It will. But for now, I'm just going remember that shows like this one, casts and crews like we had, and the friendships we formed, are the reasons I do theatre.

Thank you. To the cast and crew of "INVENTING VAN GOGH" and all those who have supported, and share in, our passion for this show.