In line with this year’s conference theme, “Ignite creativity, collaboration and connection,” I decided to break down my highlights of this year’s One Theatre World in terms of this alliterative theme that perfectly encompasses both my OTW 2013 experience and TYA/USA as an organization.

CREATIVITY
I attended a session led by members of Trusty Sidekick theatre company, based in New York City who presented on their development process for Shadow Play, a theatre piece for audiences aged 2-5. Trusty Sidekick developed Shadow Play in collaboration with pre-K students through creative drama and process-drama inspired activities. This particularly excites me as a model for community engagement in new work development. During the session I was silently freaking out (in a good way) about how this project combines my love for working with this age group as a teaching artist and my recent experience as an actor/facilitator in theatre for the very young. Trusty Sidekick’s session truly ignited my creativity with a volume of new ideas cascading through my brain as I look forward to determining a thesis project.

COLLABORATION
In his closing keynote address, Finnegan Kruckemeyer hit home on a number of salient points. This incredible playwright and storyteller identified the essence of this conference with the simple sentence, “It’s nicer to work with nice people.” TYA contains a wealth of nice people. Nice people who are as creative, supportive and hard-working as they are kind. No matter what field you find yourself in, when you surround yourself with colleagues who are motivated by similar values, you do better work. The attention to learning and education that permeates our theatre-making in TYA came up in many of the discussions I had at OTW. Whether or not it is overtly named as a goal of an artistic process, this awareness of the educational value of the arts also drives us, the professional artists, to continue learning and refining our craft. We consciously seek out new ways to grow, and we support artistic growth in one another.

CONNECTION
The supportive bonds I found at OTW this year moved me to tears multiple times. Whether I was reuniting with former co-workers or simply taking in the energy and excitement that filled each space at PlayhouseSquare, significant connections were formed, deepened and sustained. At OTW 2011, I was floored when accomplished playwright, Laurie Brooks approached me and introduced herself when she could see that I was a new member of this community. This year, knowing more people in attendance created a different experience for me, but the connections were just as meaningful. OTW is not a race to collect the most business cards (or how many Minglebird connections you make- though that was a fun way to break the ice!). The artists who comprise the OTW community value making and sustaining connections because you never know where you’ll encounter future collaborators. We are invested in serving each other as resources as we continue to serve young audiences and families through the high quality arts experiences we create together.

I’m going to add a new word to the alliteration that I am taking away from this experience: CONFIDENCE. At my first OTW in 2011, I soaked it all in like a human sponge. Attending this year’s conference as a graduate student and OTW apprentice gave me the confidence boost to introduce myself to artists and TYA leaders whose work I admire and engage in conversation about their work, my work and the field at large. A huge thank you to the TYA/USA board and the OTW 2013 planning committee for facilitating a high-quality conference experience full of creativity, collaboration and connection.

In short, OTW rocks.

The OTW 2013 Apprentices with our fearless leader, David Kilpatrick!

This happened to me today in such a lovely way. I’ve written before about my participation in the Fall Festival of Shakespeare at Shakespeare & Company, a place I have since worked professionally and a place that will always be special to me. Today one of Shakespeare & Company’s long-time company members and master teachers came to UT Austin to facilitate a workshop about the work she does with a program designed for young people with special needs. In the morning, Lizzie led us through some exercises that we then helped facilitate with several community members in the afternoon. Encountering someone from my Shakespeare & Company world, a place that planted the seeds for my teaching artist practice during this intensive graduate school experience was such a thrill for my heart.

Creating safe spaces and building community in a classroom are two things I think about a lot in my teaching artist practice. It was so refreshing to think on these big ideas with new people, inspired by a new context. Though the focus of the workshop was on activities used to engage people with special needs, so much of what we did can be transferred to other classroom contexts, and that goes both ways. I think at the beginning of the day I expected to learn things that were completely new to me. By the end of the day I was thinking about the transferable nature of the strategies and conversations. So much of today’s explorations apply across my teaching artist work:

• LISTEN. LISTEN. LISTEN.
• Ask open questions that invite students to make decisions within creative exercises.
• Take one moment at a time.
• Freedom within a clearly defined structure.
• Use people-first language and seeing the person, not the label.
• As the facilitator, be prepared to let your pre-conceived ideas go. Your students might come up with a more inspired idea!
• Engagement looks different in each person. Someone choosing to sit out of an activity might actually be internalizing every piece of it.
• Get rid of the idea of “us and them.”

Difference exists, and it takes many shapes. As teaching artists and facilitators, it’s important that we see and work to understand the differences in the room. Difference can and inform our choices around content, strategies and artistic activities. But we can’t let difference paralyze us. An “us and them” mentality separates. In order to connect, we have to abandon that mindset. Every classroom contains an array of perspectives, lived experiences, values, ideas, passions, emotions, abilities, expectations and talents. In order to tap into all of this, facilitators have a responsibility to create a nonjudgmental, supportive space. And this is not specific to working with people with special needs. Creating safe spaces is critical when you’re working with people. Period.

To learn more about Lizzie’s work, check out the documentary, “People Like Me”

Is the moon a balloon?
It can be.
A balloon can be anything… anything you want it to be.

On January 8^th, my flight from Philadelphia landed in Austin a little after noon. By 2:00 I was in the Oscar Brockett Theatre on campus in rehearsal for The Balloon Project.

The Balloon Project is an ongoing international artistic exchange between UT Austin’s department of theatre and dance and Patch Theatre of Adelaide, Australia. In the week before spring semester classes started up, an ensemble of eleven theatre makers explored the possibilities of circles and lines with Dave Brown, artistic director of Patch. Patch Theatre creates visual theatre specifically for young audiences aged 4-8. Dave guided us through a condensed theatre making experience similar to the collaborative process Patch Theatre uses to create their pieces in Adelaide.

As we explored the seemingly endless possibilities of balloons and what we could make with circles and lines, we blurred the lines that usually distinguish one production role from another. As one of two stage managers (stage management friends out there I know you’re jealous!), I generated rehearsal reports, wrangled the balloons and swept the stage at the end of the day. I also participated in warm ups, explored the movement vocabulary of each kind of balloon, co-created the lobby installation and pre-show activities, documented our exploration in photos and videos, and my artistic contributions and suggestions were welcomed by everyone. That week, all of my artistic interests and skills came together.

At this intersection of all my previously distinct artistic lenses, I discovered a new artistic identity for myself: theatre maker. Soaking up the IPAY Showcase immediately before diving into The Balloon Project made for an even fuller artistic exploration. I left Philadelphia with a wealth of inspiration, having finally seen the kind of theatre I want to make, and the opportunity to act on that inspiration in this residency with Dave was such a gift.

“In exchange” for this brilliant week of exploring visual theatre making, the Drama and Theatre for Youth and Communities area invited Dave into the work we do in drama-based instruction through the Drama For Schools program, and facilitated workshops and dialogue on community engagement, early arts and arts integration. As a result of this artistic exchange, and this new intersection of theatre making and teaching artistry, some exciting preliminary thesis project ideas are bubbling up in my brain. Wherever these thoughts take me, I’m already sure The Balloon Project was a significant turning point in my artistic career.

You can read more about The Balloon Project ensemble’s experiences here.

Here are some shots of our week of play and exploration:

The time: January 4^th, 2013.
The place: The Avenue of the Arts in Philadelphia.
The event: The International Performing Arts for Youth (IPAY) Showcase.

I was one of this year’s eight Jim Rye Fellows, and I remember when Kim Peter Kovac interviewed me for this position, and asked me why I wanted to go to IPAY. I replied, “Because I’ve never been?” As a first time IPAY attendee, I had no idea what to expect. As a teaching artist, I couldn’t quite articulate how my work might intersect with a booking conference, but I followed my gut to Philadelphia, and I am so glad I did.

I quickly discovered that IPAY is so much more than a booking conference. The community I found at IPAY pleasantly surprised me, and the performances fueled the theatre-maker within me in ways I didn’t know I needed. Everyone I met eagerly engaged with students, and they were as curious about my work as I was about theirs. A highlight of the four days was having lunch with Andy Packer of Slingsby Theatre Company in Adelaide, Australia. As Andy talked about Slingsby’s artistic values, I discovered someone who spoke my artistic language. As we exchanged ideas about the purpose and value of art and the purpose and value of education, and the more delightfully connected art and education became.

Engaging in conversations like this one with artists I met at IPAY has changed how I think about my teaching artist practice and how it relates to the field of theatre for young audiences as a whole. On top of that, the performances I saw at IPAY woke up the theatre-maker in me, and rejuvenated a part of my artistry I didn’t even know was struggling. In various performances, I finally saw the kind of theatre I am inspired to make. As a result, I got on my flight back to Austin with bags full of artistic inspiration.

Reasons not to miss IPAY 2014:

• You will see performances you LOVE.
• You will see performances you hate.
• You will see performances that make you think.
• You will meet people that make you think.
• You will meet people who will deepen or change the way you see your art.

Philadelphia!

Interacting with The Megaphone Project, a sound and art installation from Melbourne, Australia (Hi David and Madeline!)

Patch Theatre’s Dave Brown accepting the Victor Award for Patch’s production, Me and My Shadow
(YAY Dave and Patch!)

The 2013 Rye Fellows!

1. Leap outside of your comfort zone. Teach 11^th graders, even if most of your teaching artist practice lives in a pre-k through 6^th grade context. Break out. If you’re the first to answer a question or offer a solution in a discussion, see what happens if you speak last. Change up the patterns in your life. Say “yes” to those around you, and see what happens.

2. Take ownership. Of every success, discovery, challenge, mistake and curiosity that you experience. Own it. These things make you, you. Own what you know, and own what you don’t know.

3. Wear that “mantle-of-the-expert.” Sometimes you have to fake it ‘til you make it. Often, the most important person to fool is yourself. Assume the expert knowledge and authority you need in order to trust yourself.

4. If you feel like you’re in a pressure-cooker, you’re in the right place. A wise colleague of mine said to me this semester, “These programs are disruptive by design.” These three-year intensive MFAs are the fastest way to the most growth as an artist. It’s supposed to be hard.

5. You’re not there to prove yourself, but you’re going to try anyway. Acknowledge the truth in both parts of this statement. Trust that you’re supposed to be here. Take comfort in the fact that the impulse to prove oneself makes you a human being. Acknowledge its reality, breathe, and release yourself from self-imposed pressure.

6. Feedback is love. You will be inundated with feedback, questions and things to think about for next time. Write it down, process, and realize that feedback does not mean you screwed up. It doesn’t mean you failed. It means you’re learning.

7. New things don’t mean that the old things go away. I’m borrowing this line from the theatre for the very young piece, Jamie Doesn’t Want to Take a Bath that I was in this semester, written by my friend and colleague, Bethany Corey. I reminded myself of this constantly this semester. Grad school runs on feedback. Everyone wants to help you improve your process, your products and everything in between. It comes from a good place. But in the inundation of feedback, don’t forget about what you already know. Similarly, in this new exciting grad school world, don’t forget about the friends and family who didn’t get to come with you. Call them. They like that.

8. Assume the best in people. You can choose how you listen and receive information from others. Whether you agree with someone or not, assume it’s coming from a good place.

9. Remember: it’s called practice. Take comfort in practice. Accept that there will always be room for improvement, more points to make in a paper, or a different way to structure a lesson. Instead of paralyzing and scaring you, let the fact that your artistry will always be a work in progress comfort and excite you.

10. None of this really ends. Classes wrap up, papers are submitted, email lightens up (if we’re lucky). This is only temporary. Breathe in the accomplishment, celebrate the present moment, then ask, “What’s next?”

On days like December 14^th, 2012, these doubts seep into my thinking. On days like December 14^th, a life in the arts pale in comparison to the choices other people have made for their life’s work. On days like December 14^th, I wonder if I’m doing enough. I wonder if art is enough.

Art can’t perform life-saving surgeries. Art doesn’t save people from burning buildings. Art doesn’t catch bad guys.

But then again…

Art creates safe spaces where people feel seen, heard and appreciated. Art teaches people about empathy and what it’s like to be in someone else’s shoes. Art teaches problem-solving strategies that use words instead of violence. Art builds confidence and connections. Art reminds us to play. Art brings joy. Art gives us the creative vocabulary to make meaning out of the meaningless, and to find light in the darkness. Art helps us remember.

On days like December 14^th, art is enough.

I like puzzles. Every piece has its place. There’s a way it all fits together. It’s about figuring out how the details come together to make something bigger. That big picture is always on the box. Except for this particular puzzle. I don’t have a box lid to refer to. I don’t know what it’s supposed to look like. But I keep putting the pieces together the best I know how.

Sometimes I think I’ve finished this puzzle. And usually as soon as I think that, I find 1,000 other homeless pieces that I didn’t know were there, waiting to put them in place. It stresses me out to have this constantly unfinished puzzle in my life. I want to finish this one, celebrate the accomplishment and take a shiny, new puzzle out of the box. That’s exciting. Seeing this same unfinished puzzle day after day is NOT always exciting. Some days I want to stop working on it. Some days I want to flip the table it’s on and watch the pieces go cascading across the floor in every direction. Some days I pretend this puzzle doesn’t exist. Puzzle? I’m sorry, what are you talking about? Some days I am convinced that this puzzle is mocking me. It just sits there, threatening to explode in my face right before I put that day’s piece into place. How rude.

It’s not rude all the time though. Lots of times it’s a rush. Finding out where each piece goes and marveling and how each one connects. Sometimes when a piece fits in, it makes the picture clearer than it has ever been. And then there are pieces with such obscure colors and lines that I wonder if maybe they might have ended up in the wrong box. But if I’m patient enough, those weird-looking pieces might someday fall into place in that way that makes me wonder how I lived without it.

Everyone has a different strategy for puzzling these pieces together. Some people like to start with the edge pieces and make the border first. Others like to focus on a very specific section and branch out from there. Some people love to do puzzles in groups. Others have to do them alone. No matter what, we’ve all got our puzzles to piece together. Hopefully we’ve got friends and family who can help us strategize through our struggle, but at the end of the day, we each have to own our unfinished puzzles and find the patience and faith that the pieces will come together in a way that helps us see the big picture a little more clearly, and find a little more appreciation for the process of puzzling through it.

Photo credit: Horia Varian via Flickr Creative Commons

No but seriously. Look:

Okay so on the surface, it does look like arts and crafts, and yes I did do this in my second week of graduate school. In Drama-Based Pedagogy and Practice, we each created a three-dimensional representation of our teaching artist philosophy.

Writing my teaching artist philosophy when I applied to grad school was no small feat for me. When I am asked to write or speak about something I am passionate about, one of two things happens: either I cannot stop writing or speaking because I get so fired up that I forget about everything else happening in the world. Or, my passion for said subject matter is so overwhelming that I am at a loss for words. It’s all or nothing for me. There is no in between. And when it comes to writing down what I believe, why I believe it and what it looks like in my classroom, it was a constant tension between word-vomiting everything through my typing fingers moving across my keyboard a thousand miles a minute, and feeling verbally paralyzed. Teaching is a huge part of my identity (according to Eric Booth 80% of what you teach is who you are) that it’s a challenge to find the “right” words.

Back to the arts and crafts.

First, we chose five essential phrases or words to extract from our written philosophies to help us focus and distill what we wanted to communicate. Then we had a crafting session and created three-dimensional representations of these five essential phrases. Arts and crafts are often therapeutic for me, but I got so much more out of this activity than I anticipated. By taking away the pressure to find the perfect words that I ran into a lot when I wrote my initial document, I was using a different language – a language of metaphors and symbols and visual expression. There was no wrong answer. For a recovering perfectionist like myself, THIS was quite a liberating moment.

After a few liberating, escapist moments, I had created something, and it was time to share. But instead of each artist sharing her 3-D sculpture, the rest of the class described what they saw in each person’s creation and relate it to teaching artistry. As I listened to my classmates draw conclusions that I had not deliberately intended to communicate through my sculpture, I evaluated each one as it was said: Do I believe that? Does that observation of different colors represent different populations I work with or different points of view or both? Does the imperfect shape represent my value of mistakes? The unique quality of each class? Or something else? Is that what I wanted the wrapping pipe cleaners to represent?

My 3-D sculpture sits on my bookshelf, and is a colorful, playful, imperfect reminder of what I value, what I have to offer and why I’m doing what I’m doing. As I think about the observations and conclusions my colleagues made about my 3-D craft, I’m also reminded that we’re all reading intentions and actions of others all the time. We see things differently, and isn’t that why we’re all artists in the first place?

Grad school is full of those moments. Those moments when you can’t believe how lucky you are to get to _______ (fill in the blank). This week was no exception. On Monday, I had the privilege and pleasure of going to not one, but TWO workshops/talks with Eric Booth, the founder and chief editor of Teaching Artist Journal, the man who has been credited as the father of teaching artistry. Yep, THAT Eric Booth.

I was searching my multiple pages of notes from the cumulative three and a half hours I got to listen to Eric spout brilliance and insight about teaching artistry (in a humble, engaging and kind manner, I might add), and it’s impossible to pick one thing to share with you all, so here are SEVERAL key thinking points from Eric for teaching artists:

• “Make Stuff You Care About” This is Eric’s definition of art. Making stuff you care about and having the courage to share it with others are what make you an artist. Plain and simple.
• The Law of 80%: Eric’s law (so-called to “make it sound important”) is that 80% of what you teach is who you are. Students are assessing your whole person: your clothes, your voice, your energy, how well you listen, how much fun you’re having. These are all clues for students, especially when they meet you for the first time, about what this experience is going to be like.
• Engagement before information: for artists and people who identify with the arts (which, according to Eric is a frighteningly small percentage of Americans- around 7% of us), information about an artistic experience IS engaging. But we have to remember that spouting a bunch of “fascinating” facts about Shakespeare will, more often than not, turn someone off to Shakespeare and theatre entirely. The most immediate way to engage someone in the arts is to help them make a personal connection to the experience. Artists make these connections so immediately that we often take them for granted. But how can teaching artists facilitate these discoveries about the intersection of one’s self, one’s world and the arts?

And the last point from Eric Booth that resonates with me the most is that teaching artistry is its own art form. It’s the fifth arts discipline. This belief is what drives me to keep ArtSmart going, it’s why I’m going to grad school, it’s the drive behind my research and practical interests in training teaching artists and the relationship between artistry and pedagogy.

Which of these pieces of Eric Booth brilliance resonates with you the most?

1. Doing something you’ve done before in a new environment is surprisingly challenging.

2. You will inevitably compare yourself to someone more experienced at least once. (Stop that. Your practice is about YOU and you only.)

3. You learn the difference between challenging and impossible.

4. It’s okay to just sit back and watch.

5. Showing up is half the battle.

6. There will be more than a few times that you will want to give up. BREATHE.