October 1st, 2007.
The Monday “off” between tech and previews.

I, Dara Weinberg, hearby make application for membership in the Society of Stage Directors and Choreographers, Inc., and agree to abide by all rules and regulations as provided in the By-Laws of the Society as well as to all the addition working rules adopted by the membership, and support the SSDC credo:

“It is the broad purpose of this Society to elevate the standards of the art of stage direction and choreography; to develop communication among the director and choreographer craftspersons; to establish means for the dissemination and exchange of ideas of directorial and choreographic interest to the profession; to aid in the development and training of directors and choreographers; to increase in the professional and public esteem these arts and to develop all conditions that will encourage them.”

I’ve never been so in fervent agreement with the goals of anything I’ve joined in my life.

An old memory: hanging out in a HW auditorium, years after graduating – going to a dress run of one of Ted’s shows, and seeing a printed copy of his notes, and this note among them, to some unfortunate:

“If you don’t take your watch off, I’m going to cut it off.”

I was never in one of Ted’s shows, and never saw his notes. I seem to remember them as typed on colored paper, in a small font, distributed to everyone (another strike on that side – I really have to systematize my work on this note business). But that made me laugh so hard. And it made me realize Ted was human. I suppose at the time, he would have still been “Mr. Walch.”

I want to make a documentary about his directing. Having said that, I have no resources with which to do it. But someone should. “Master Class with Ted Walch,” or something.

Aaron saves more of the notes he takes in their original form than Bill, who used to get rid of paper as quickly as possible, or else type them.

He also gave Camille some notes in person, waiting for her to write them down, which was a good way for them to process together.

With a larger cast it wouldn’t be practical, but it seemed so powerful in this context.

To see the note go from the director’s handwritten paper, to his words out loud, to Camille’s words out loud, to their discussion of it, to her handwritten paper – all the technology in the world, and we’re still seeing how a piece of information is transformed between two humans.

It made me understand how a “note” works, more – and why, if it isn’t worth all that, you don’t give it.

I’ve had several people mention to me now that I’ve assisted a lot of different artists, and that the shows I’ve worked on don’t always seem to match up with the kinds of plays I choose to direct myself. It’s true.

When I’m directing, I tend to gravitate towards, you know, choruses, rhyme, the macabre. But that doesn’t mean I don’t have a hell of a lot to learn from working on Moliere, Shakespeare, a one-woman show about Golda Meir, a new play, an adaptation – all that and more.

I think it’s my own graduate school, this year of assisting on productions that are unlike my own. In a way, I think I’ve sought out things I couldn’t have imagined directing myself.

It’s like the exercise of making yourself write a poem in a style you’d never use. The exercise is going to teach you things about both that style and your own, much more than you’d learn from just writing in the style with which you’re already comfortable.

(revision of post prompted by the law of shorter paragraphs on the internet)

The deadline for the SSDC Observerships is Sept. 10. This is from my application:

“My artistic development is rather like a teenager with growing pains. Fast, big, and awkward. I directed and choreographed three shows in 2006, the last one which was an original piece based on my own method of improvised choral physical theater, and I got away with it. I direct workshops on this method around the country. It almost feels too good to be real. I’ve achieved some big goals early, but at the cost of calm and confidence in my technique. I’m looking to find that through learning and observing.

I find myself cautiously proud of my results, my finished productions – and confident they will improve – but, like many young directors, not contented in my process. I need to learn by watching more older directors, who have the “process” part down, who know the tricks of the trade – how to incorporate text changes or tough notes. “