taking stock OR indulge me for a moment

The northern Michigan clouds are gathering outside so I'm holed up in the library at Interlochen avoiding work by actually getting some work done (aside from this blog entry, of course). I'm going through the libretto of We, The Boys and figuring out which movements are either a) partially done, b) in the can or c) not touched at all. Surprisingly, I'm a little further along than I initially thought I was when I sat down to take stock. In fact, I think I'm almost half way done which, frankly, isn't that bad since I've only been writing during the summers. It's such a good play and it's been amazing to try and honor the intent.

I went back through some journal entries that I wrote during my writing sabbatical in Iowa last year and a metaphor which seems appropriate stuck out at me. Writing something as big as this is sort of like building a sculpture of a human body (stay with me, here). You start from the ground up and so, as you work, different body parts start to appear as you make them. For the sake of argument, say you start with the foot. You get this thing done really well (toes all in order, tendons, toenails, etc.) and then stand back to look at it. You're like, "Hey, that's a pretty good looking sculpture of a foot" and you're really proud of yourself. The only problem is that, immediately after you feel good about that awesome foot, you realize that it's only a tiny piece that's attached to a body which is huge in comparison. Not only do you have to make another foot to go along with this one but, at some point, you're going to have to make the rest of this thing just as good. Then you're like, "Oh my god, that foot took me forever. This is never going to end. What have I committed myself to? I'm a total failure." And the ensuing existential crisis threatens to topple your already shaky self-confidence and sense of self-worth.

Yikes, right?

So then I guess the only remedy is that you just keep slogging along blindly doing the best you can and hope it amounts to something. I've been at it for over a year now (with a "break" to write actual, money-making commissions and such) and I think I can say, without pride, that I'm feeling pretty good about where I sit with this thing. I think I've got a pair of feet, a brain, circulatory system and, depending on the particular movement, a pair of wings (which is something I did not expect when I set out to sculpt my Opera Body). I've got 9 more days to be here with these thousands of artists and I intend to use them well.

I was searching for some visual inspiration online and found this great picture of a man sitting at a park bench. He reminds me of Howard at the very beginning of the opera; sitting by himself having a conversation with the disembodied voice of Leonardo da Vinci. This aria is the first thing I completed and has a special place in my heart.














I'm currently listening to Jay Brannan's cover of "The Freshmen" by The Verve Pipe (who Wikipedia just informed me are actually from Michigan). It's unbelievably beautiful and, in bringing it way down from the original, is incredibly delicate. Rundon'twalk to iTunes to get his new album, In Living Covers.





















Also of note is my new favorite website, AwkwardFamilyPhotos.com Click on this beauty to get enough detail to see the look on Junior's face here. He loves the Giants.