Steppenwolf Theatre Company Blog – Chicago Theater, World-Class Ensemble

As both an architectural designer and a longtime Steppenwolf patron, I love to think about architecture through the lens of theater and vice versa. At their cores, both are about the same thing: storytelling.  Whereas theater tells a story in the traditional sense with characters and a narrative, architecture tells us stories about space.

I’ve delighted in my indulgence of the current “We live in public space. We live in private space…” season.  The plays in this series have probed the interactions between the public and the private self. But as an architect, I am equally as interested in what happens when the door between the two literally opens!

What is public? Public is communal, exposed, and inclusive. Public is you—for all to see.
What is private? Private is isolated, concealed, and intimate. Private is me—for no one to see.

The boundary between public and private is perhaps the most theatrical threshold conceivable. Ever since watching (and re-watching) Alfred Hitchcock’s Rear Window, I’ve thought about how architecture responds to spatial thresholds and urban adjacencies. Observations out my own rear window prompted me to investigate how we relate to our fellow neighbors and how the basic infrastructure of private property can inhibit a more public and social urban experience.

de[FENCING] is a proposal for a public intervention within the confines of private property. What if the fence, the most typical constraint of urban isolation, is catalyzed to provoke social interactions among otherwise apathetic neighbors? By literally inserting playful opportunities into a proverbial boundary, radical adjacencies and social opportunities are created; the boundary is de-delineated. A lexicon of leisure activities would program this new and distinctly urban middle ground. By repurposing the familiar vocabulary of backyard recreation into the fence itself, specific interventions will engage neighbors on both sides. The result is architectural theater.

While the characters in Detroit needed no physical invitation to interact in each other’s backyards, I suspect that typical urban dwellers need a little more push. I created a series of drawings and photomontages to prototype several de[FENCING] installations. The drawings explore storylines of exaggerated realities. Each story begins with a “What If” prompt.

WHAT IF the fence became the site of festive meals and summer barbeques as opposed to the partition that currently separates them? In the closed position, the Lazy Susan Picnic Table remains a functional bench. When the moment is right, neighbors on both sides of the fence can swing the hinged table surface open! The Lazy Susan tray is mobilized into position by simply placing it on its central axel. Neighbors can inscribe menu notes and food labels on its chalkboard surface. By rotating the Lazy Susan, food-sharing can literally straddle property lines and neighborhood boundaries.

WHAT IF the fence was aborted as a device of economic blockade and was adopted as a marketplace of exchange? Getting tired of that old sweater? The solution lives in your backyard—catalyzed by the fence! The Clothes Swap Mannequin operates as an exquisite corpse game that neighbors can play. Like the Surrealist method, neighbors can exchange garments for feet, legs, torso, or head—each facilitated by a separate mannequin device. Each mannequin rotates on a vertical axis over the property line, ensuring that neighbors on both sides of the fence can give and receive, advertise and browse.

See CARTOGRAM’s website for more public/private architectural instigations!

Your face is illuminated in a flash of light. You are a diva now, straight out of the psychedelic seventies. You strike a pose, your prodigious afro struggling to grip onto your psychedelic scalp. Your exceedingly retro sunglasses obscure your funky intentions. You’ve been through troubles, but you’re here, right now, living fully in the moment. This, my friends, is what it means to get into the world of the play. This is The Scene: Hot L Baltimore.

On Saturday, April 30, over one hundred high school students from all over Chicago crowded into Yondorf rehearsal hall after a Saturday night performance of The Hot L Baltimore. The event was hosted by us - the Steppenwolf Young Adult Council. For a manageable price of $15, high school students from every walk of life witnessed the gradual collapse of the Hotel Baltimore and the fierce resistance of the people inside.

After the show, glow stick-wielding members of the Young Adult Council expertly directed students down Halsted Street to Steppenwolf’s administrative building. Student guests were ushered into Yondorf, where they immediately gravitated toward the food, soul music, and a 70s-style photo booth.

The friends I brought debated nonstop. Which character had they liked most? What was the play really trying to say? What was the significance behind the nameless ghost? Their enthusiastic babbling did not stop as they filled their plates with fried chicken, pasta and salad. They were still eating and talking about the play when they realized, with a rush of excitement, that there was a 70s photo booth across the room, complete with afros, weaves and threads. For purely sanitary reasons, I’d prefer not to know the number of people who wore the afro that night.

The room, bursting with true enthusiasm, finally began to settle in. Slam poet Shannon Matesky laid down her words and rhythms for all to hear, expertly connecting the themes of the Hot L Baltimore to the gentrification of Chicago. Two members of the Young Adult Council, one of whom won this year’s Louder than a Bomb Indie competition, also performed their spoken word pieces. One poet after the other, the audience watched intently, devouring every word. The poets had the absolute undivided attention of over one hundred high school students. A friend shot me a knowing glance — we were in the midst of unmatched passion and skill.

The night moved forward into an artistic discussion about the play with the cast. Many students who had never to a Scene event were surprised at how accessible the actors were. Those with more experience waited eagerly with their questions. Two members of the Council engaged the actors and audience in a discussion about what it was like to work with director Tina Landau, what role music played in the production, and the significance of the unscripted ghost character. As students raised their hands to ask questions, it was time for me to do one of my jobs. As the “band point person,” I had to ensure that our live music for the night, the ever-funky Aniba Hotep and the Sol Collective, was well-fed, hydrated, and ready to rock and roll. I introduced myself to the band, making sure that they knew I was there in case they needed anyone for anything. Then I gave them their five-minute warning. It was time for the party to commence.

Some people hesitated at first to move to the center of the dance floor, worried that they might make a fool of themselves. However, no one could resist the soulful beats of Aniba Hotep and the Sol Collective, and in no time, a crowd of people had gathered in the center of Yondorf, dancing their hearts out. All were uninhibited, arms flailed joyously, and the Council knew the night was well on its way to success.

Alas, the evening eventually came to an end, and my friends could not stop raving. One friend remarked that he wished Aniba Hotep and the Sol Collective would play at our school’s prom. Others were simply moved by the play. All I really heard was a resounding, collective, “That was awesome.”

My penniless friends aren’t generally willing to pay for anything more than ten dollars. However, they are loyal patrons of our Scene events. They come to see quality theatre for a low price. They come to analyze theatre with people their own age, with whom they can relate. They come to celebrate the world of a play, to eat, dance and to have a great time. This event was our last of the year. For those Council members who are graduating seniors it was both solemn and celebratory night. The Scene: Hot L Baltimore allowed students from all different backgrounds and from all around the city to come together, envelop themselves in the world of a play and be enriched by each other.

This is Evan Silver, Young Adult Council member, tuning out.

Catherine plays the role of Nugget Gordon in Sideshow Theatre Company’s Heddatron, currently running in the Garage Theatre as part of Steppenwolf’s 2011 Garage Rep. 

As the youngest member and the only kid in the cast of Heddatron, I would love to be able to play with the robots in our cast in their Robotforest home. The sad thing is that my character, Nugget Gordon, is not even in the Robotforest scene. That’s OK though, because one of the best things about the show is the rest of the non-robot (human) cast. This is first time that I have been in a production with adults and I really enjoy working with them. Heddatron is a complicated show with the robots, a story that takes place in different time periods and locations, all onstage at once - and my character is doing a school report on Henrik Ibsen that tries to explain it all. I have learned a lot from everyone involved with the show. The director, Jonathan Green, and all of the cast and crew have really supported me during this process. They treat me like family and I couldn’t have done it without their help.

One of my favorite parts of the show is the dance that Nugget does which is put to the music of “Angel” by Shaggy. I got to choreograph the whole dance myself! It started as a simple jazz dance and then Jonathan thought we should change the style to hip-hop. He asked me if I knew any hip-hop moves and I showed him the coffee-grinder - where I crouch down and swing one straightened leg in a circle while jumping over it with the other leg. Jonathan loved it so much - he got down on his knees and said “Give me a hug!”  It felt really good to be part of the design of the play. I still change my dance a little from show to show, but the coffee-grinder will always be a part of it.

My second favorite part of the play is the transition where everyone in the cast dances and sings to “Total Eclipse of the Heart”. This scene took about 25% of our entire rehearsal time and we still run through it every night before the show. I really like how it turned out. It is the one of the most fun parts of the play and the audience always seems to enjoy it!

One of the questions that Jonathan has been asked in interviews is how he thought Heddatron playwright Elizabeth Meriwether had envisioned different parts of the play, and if he thought he had followed her vision. I have wondered about that too. We’ve all worked very hard and we always do our best each night for the audience. I really hope that Elizabeth Meriwether comes to see our show and what we’ve put into it - and I’d like to ask her; do you think we have a “well-made play?”

Geena Barry here!

Representative of the Young Adult Council, reporting on The Scene: Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf?

Saturday, January 24^th marked a triumphant adventure for me and my friends, all suburbanites who probably spend the majority of our Saturdays doing suburbanite things – mowing the lawn, hanging around the mall, and eating copious amounts of ice cream to compensate for our lack of city-cold. This Saturday was different - we bundled up and hopped the west line Metra to Chicago. Our mission was simple:  to attend Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf? And The Scene event directly following the performance, hosted by the Steppenwolf Young Adult Council. Aside from a necessary stop at California Pizza Kitchen, we did just that.The day began with the play, which goes without saying, WAS FANTASTIC. My groupies, some completely unfamiliar with Virginia Woolf, were astonished. Priceless expressions on their faces marked their intellectual awakenings as they became immersed into the twisted world of George and Martha. These expressions lingered through the intermissions, paired with comments on what Edward Albee is really trying to say about biology or how Mr. Letts so smoothly transitions from vulnerability to having absolute control over the room. These conversations, stopped only by the flashing of the lights, filled the lobby with intrigue and discovery.

This constant conversation continued all the way to the Steppenwolf administrative building, where we were greeted not only by the Young Adult Council, but also by food, glorious food. A swarm of over 70 students grabbed some spaghetti and salad and chatted about the show with their peers. Snug in our seats and on the ground of the crowded conference room, we were officially welcomed by members of the Young Adult Council who then introduced the show’s understudies.  Enlightening discussion ensued. Questions posed by both Young Adult Council members and visiting high school students ranged from acting to Albee to alcohol, and the understudies introduced insider concepts about the rehearsal process that I had not yet considered. This, my friends and I discovered, is the benefit of discussing the play with the artists who know it most intimately.

Stomachs and minds filled, it was time for some recreation. The cast members were thanked for their time and the games began (thankfully, not the merciless, booze-induced games present in the play.) We continued our exploration of the show through a few theatre games, one of which my posse and I had to skip out on due to an early train time – despite pleas from the youngest of our group to stay just a little longer. I had to play mother goose and shepherd the littluns back to the station by way of the number 8 bus.

The Scene: Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf was certainly a monumental night for us high school students, so money-less and swamped in our own productions that we often miss opportunities to see great theatre in Chicago. I now hear references to Virginia Woolf and the post-event in my daily life, and have been asked about 40 times when the next Scene event will be.

Come join us for The Scene: Sex With Strangers, which takes place this weekend!

Hi all!

My name is Josh Altman and I have the great pleasure of being the assistant director for Edward Albee’s WHO’S AFRAID OF VIRGINIA WOOLF? It has certainly been an exciting experience. We rehearsed one of the most celebrated, beloved American plays, helmed by Pam MacKinnon, a frequent interpreter of Mr. Albee’s work. Pam’s process is incredibly actor-driven. Throughout rehearsals, her excitement for the work and its inherent challenge was apparent, yet she remained cool and calm throughout.

On the first day of rehearsal, she referred to the play as a “mountain,” and we spent the following four weeks steadily ascending the summit. The play weaves in and out of arguments, tiffs, challenges and games and Pam helped the actors navigate this treacherous track. We moved from the surface ease of Act One’s “Fun & Games” to the tension and passion of Act Three’s “Exorcism.” Pam used words like “reset” and “truce” to describe the specifics of the characters’ ever-evolving relationships. She also reminded us that this is Albee’s most realistic play; it occurs in real time, roughly between 2:00am and 5:00am (even the intermissions occur in real time). Pam also helped us to understand the changing feel of the play as it weaves through quartets, trios, duets and a few solos. It’s a four-character play and the number of actors on stage defines the number of “parts” we see and hear. When we go from two people to four people on stage, there is a massive difference; more parts are playing together. And when we move into solos and duets, the individual parts are heard with even greater clarity.

Overall, it was a wonderful experience watching Pam work with these fantastic actors. They are all mindful and generous collaborators. We reveled in the challenge, the “mountain,” that is this play.