Wednesday April 12th
Opening Night -
Opening Night -
And finally now we hold hands and jump at the end of the pier.
And if the water is cold we hold each other tightly while our teeth chatter and we make our way back as best and as soon as we can.
And if it's warm we splash and giggle and tickle and laugh out loud until our fingers and toes are prune sticks.
Perhaps there's no other way to be truly together.
And no other way to move forward together, but to risk it and jump.
After all, it's only cold water.
- Michael Short
"The Blind Dutch Master"
And if the water is cold we hold each other tightly while our teeth chatter and we make our way back as best and as soon as we can.
And if it's warm we splash and giggle and tickle and laugh out loud until our fingers and toes are prune sticks.
Perhaps there's no other way to be truly together.
And no other way to move forward together, but to risk it and jump.
After all, it's only cold water.
- Michael Short
"The Blind Dutch Master"
If you know theatre history, you may have heard of Antonin Artaud who created "Theatre of Cruelty." These plays were known for their assailing of senses. Audiences could expect to feel completely immersed and many left feeling utterly disoriented. While our play is very, very far from that, no doubt there is fear at play and elements of complete immersion. While the actors in this play are the ones really taking this journey, hopefully you can put yourself in our shoes and feel what we are experiencing. Theatre can barrage the senses, if you let it. Enjoy!
- Steele Whitney
"The Astronomer"
- Steele Whitney
"The Astronomer"
The word that has stuck with me through tech is 'spell.' A spell infers there's magic involved. There are good spells and there are bad spells. I think my character is under various spells to varying degrees. Sometimes the temptation of being under a spell whether good or bad is very enticing. My wish for this run is to bring the audience under these spells and experience the magic of this show with me.
- Lena Vani
"The Astronomer's Wife"
- Lena Vani
"The Astronomer's Wife"
"Like the remembered tone of a mute lyre."
- Michael Seebold
Playwright/Director
- Michael Seebold
Playwright/Director
Saturday April 8th -
Tonight, we have another rehearsal after a gap of several days of rest and recalibration. While it is jarring to go from working all the time on something to taking a break, it is necessary for the actor’s soul, mind, and body. When living in these imaginary circumstances every day, the body gets used to them. Taking a moment of repose allows us to really sit with the weight of how abnormal this show is. Nothing about it is regular, otherwise we would not be performing it on a stage. So, coming back to the work tonight, I am feeling ready to live under the weight of such an extraordinary show.
If you are really lucky, sometimes you get to experience technical elements of a show before you are in the space. For most pieces of theater, this is not the case. You spend weeks rehearsing the words, finding the characters, and polishing the story. We have been fortunate enough to work with the soundscape, and I cannot tell you what a difference this has made. To all around ambiance to deepening understanding of the environment, this has been such a luxury. We have also gotten to utilize some costume pieces and props. This will save us serious time in our technical rehearsals, and it has allowed for choice making with actual things we will be using. The two biggest elements that will be coming so soon are the space itself and lighting. It is so exciting to add these factors into the mix. Once all the variables are in place, then all we have left are the audience and performance adrenaline. After working for so long, it is so exciting to know that the buildup is almost over, and the show is almost here. While the actors have important jobs, it is so important to note and appreciate our often unsung heroes behind the wonderful tech. Everyone plays a part.
- Steele Whitney
"The Astronomer"
Tonight, we have another rehearsal after a gap of several days of rest and recalibration. While it is jarring to go from working all the time on something to taking a break, it is necessary for the actor’s soul, mind, and body. When living in these imaginary circumstances every day, the body gets used to them. Taking a moment of repose allows us to really sit with the weight of how abnormal this show is. Nothing about it is regular, otherwise we would not be performing it on a stage. So, coming back to the work tonight, I am feeling ready to live under the weight of such an extraordinary show.
If you are really lucky, sometimes you get to experience technical elements of a show before you are in the space. For most pieces of theater, this is not the case. You spend weeks rehearsing the words, finding the characters, and polishing the story. We have been fortunate enough to work with the soundscape, and I cannot tell you what a difference this has made. To all around ambiance to deepening understanding of the environment, this has been such a luxury. We have also gotten to utilize some costume pieces and props. This will save us serious time in our technical rehearsals, and it has allowed for choice making with actual things we will be using. The two biggest elements that will be coming so soon are the space itself and lighting. It is so exciting to add these factors into the mix. Once all the variables are in place, then all we have left are the audience and performance adrenaline. After working for so long, it is so exciting to know that the buildup is almost over, and the show is almost here. While the actors have important jobs, it is so important to note and appreciate our often unsung heroes behind the wonderful tech. Everyone plays a part.
- Steele Whitney
"The Astronomer"
Friday April 7th -
"Surreal" is an overused and incorrectly used word in 2023.
A chef cooks a near perfect meal and receives a standing ovation for his success.
He was asked what he has to say.
"It was surreal," he says.
A person wins the 10 million-dollar lottery.
"It is surreal," she says.
It's unlikely. It's not the usual. But it's not surreal.
(And it's certainly not unreal.)
If a cucumber won the lottery, converted the winnings into Roman coins, bought a mint-condition 17th Century sailing vessel from an invisible time-traveler, sailed the ship to Mars where it presented its seeds to bird-like creatures who wore the seeds on their heads like hats after painting the seeds with liquid mercury that reflected amazing colors and light when the seeds burst open in the Martian radioactivity, that would be surreal.
A fantastic example, of course, but surreal and bizarre, nevertheless.
And actually, the surreal is possible. We call it occult or paranormal or mythology or religion or mysteries, but our experiences and history contain such described events.
Some proponents of modern quantum physics, for example, even say that if a person tried to walk through a wall 10 billion times it just might happen once, when all the stars and atoms aligned, so to speak. A scientific theory for the surreal.
Etched Glass Decanter, let us just say, dabbles in this fabulous world of the surreal.
I think many of the interesting and mysterious questions are here in the play.
Are some of the answers here too?
- Michael Short
"The Blind Dutch Master"
"Surreal" is an overused and incorrectly used word in 2023.
A chef cooks a near perfect meal and receives a standing ovation for his success.
He was asked what he has to say.
"It was surreal," he says.
A person wins the 10 million-dollar lottery.
"It is surreal," she says.
It's unlikely. It's not the usual. But it's not surreal.
(And it's certainly not unreal.)
If a cucumber won the lottery, converted the winnings into Roman coins, bought a mint-condition 17th Century sailing vessel from an invisible time-traveler, sailed the ship to Mars where it presented its seeds to bird-like creatures who wore the seeds on their heads like hats after painting the seeds with liquid mercury that reflected amazing colors and light when the seeds burst open in the Martian radioactivity, that would be surreal.
A fantastic example, of course, but surreal and bizarre, nevertheless.
And actually, the surreal is possible. We call it occult or paranormal or mythology or religion or mysteries, but our experiences and history contain such described events.
Some proponents of modern quantum physics, for example, even say that if a person tried to walk through a wall 10 billion times it just might happen once, when all the stars and atoms aligned, so to speak. A scientific theory for the surreal.
Etched Glass Decanter, let us just say, dabbles in this fabulous world of the surreal.
I think many of the interesting and mysterious questions are here in the play.
Are some of the answers here too?
- Michael Short
"The Blind Dutch Master"
Thursday April 6th -
As we approach opening night, the piece is really starting to take on a life of its own. The world and characters are set, but as a cast we continually find new moments of discovery within both. That’s what is so amazing about theater. Even with one week left before the show goes up, there is always more to craft, always more to find. It makes the process so exciting, so alive. There is a moment in the show, just after the Astronomer and his Wife are transported to a new realm, where they interact with a character from that world. At first they are suspicious of him, but leaving the interaction they seem to settle comfortably into this strange new world. There is a point during that conversation where the Astronomer looks into this character’s binoculars, while the Wife looks into his mirror. While watching the scene unfold I thought: perhaps the moment these two actually touch/look through/interact with objects from this world is when the trance takes hold of them. They’re no longer confused or afraid of their dizzying surroundings. They are simply present, accepting all the beauty, mystery, danger, grief, and joy as it is. I am excited to continue to find new moments like this in our last week of rehearsal before presenting this dangerously beautiful world to our audience.
- Ellen Keith
"Izhabel"
As we approach opening night, the piece is really starting to take on a life of its own. The world and characters are set, but as a cast we continually find new moments of discovery within both. That’s what is so amazing about theater. Even with one week left before the show goes up, there is always more to craft, always more to find. It makes the process so exciting, so alive. There is a moment in the show, just after the Astronomer and his Wife are transported to a new realm, where they interact with a character from that world. At first they are suspicious of him, but leaving the interaction they seem to settle comfortably into this strange new world. There is a point during that conversation where the Astronomer looks into this character’s binoculars, while the Wife looks into his mirror. While watching the scene unfold I thought: perhaps the moment these two actually touch/look through/interact with objects from this world is when the trance takes hold of them. They’re no longer confused or afraid of their dizzying surroundings. They are simply present, accepting all the beauty, mystery, danger, grief, and joy as it is. I am excited to continue to find new moments like this in our last week of rehearsal before presenting this dangerously beautiful world to our audience.
- Ellen Keith
"Izhabel"
Wednesday April 5th -
Throughout rehearsals there have been moments while running the show when I feel like a child. There are many moments where everything my character is surrounded by is new and colorful and textured and magical. Sometimes these things are scary, sometimes they are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. There is one moment where I am looking at a blade of grass and it feels like it is the first time I’ve ever seen something like that before. I’ve been trying to find a balance between child-like wonderment and maturely handling the situation I’m in. Questions I ask myself are: How much do I let these new experiences wash through me fully? How steadfast am I about maintaining my walls of defense? How malleable am I? How rigid?
When I was a child I used to build houses for fairies. They we elaborate and multi-level structures, often in the hollowed knots or split bases of tree trunks. I would collect tiny sticks, rocks, moss, and grass to build floors and furniture. I could spend an entire day meticulously perfecting the details for the future tenants. Sometimes, I would leave a letter for the fairies, and hide it somewhere either in the home or between the petals of a flower nearby. The letters were minuscule in size. I would use the smallest gauge graphite that I could find in a mechanical pencil so I could squeeze as many words with my meticulously shrunken handwriting onto the page. I would then seal the letters in tiny envelopes, not much larger than the size of a quarter. A couple of times a summer I would find a response. They would re-use the envelope I gave them but used their own special paper. Unfortunately, I do not remember what words I wrote to the fairies but luckily that means I’ll never be able to give away the secrets we had with each other.
- Lena Vani
"The Astronomer's Wife"
Throughout rehearsals there have been moments while running the show when I feel like a child. There are many moments where everything my character is surrounded by is new and colorful and textured and magical. Sometimes these things are scary, sometimes they are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. There is one moment where I am looking at a blade of grass and it feels like it is the first time I’ve ever seen something like that before. I’ve been trying to find a balance between child-like wonderment and maturely handling the situation I’m in. Questions I ask myself are: How much do I let these new experiences wash through me fully? How steadfast am I about maintaining my walls of defense? How malleable am I? How rigid?
When I was a child I used to build houses for fairies. They we elaborate and multi-level structures, often in the hollowed knots or split bases of tree trunks. I would collect tiny sticks, rocks, moss, and grass to build floors and furniture. I could spend an entire day meticulously perfecting the details for the future tenants. Sometimes, I would leave a letter for the fairies, and hide it somewhere either in the home or between the petals of a flower nearby. The letters were minuscule in size. I would use the smallest gauge graphite that I could find in a mechanical pencil so I could squeeze as many words with my meticulously shrunken handwriting onto the page. I would then seal the letters in tiny envelopes, not much larger than the size of a quarter. A couple of times a summer I would find a response. They would re-use the envelope I gave them but used their own special paper. Unfortunately, I do not remember what words I wrote to the fairies but luckily that means I’ll never be able to give away the secrets we had with each other.
- Lena Vani
"The Astronomer's Wife"
Tuesday April 4th -
Thoughts at will in a rehearsal room:
Repose. Renewal. Continuation. Defiance. Contentment.
- Michael Seebold
Playwright/Director
Thoughts at will in a rehearsal room:
Repose. Renewal. Continuation. Defiance. Contentment.
- Michael Seebold
Playwright/Director
Monday April 3rd -
I find that one of the most fascinating things about acting is that the more that you do something, the deeper you go. And with text as rich as this, you can make new discoveries forever. I imagine a tire making a path in a dirt road; the more the tire goes over the same spot, the more familiar it gets. Eventually the first impression in the dust has become a well-worn crater.
You read the script before the first rehearsal in your head, maybe trying out a couple of lines here and there. Then, you read it aloud for the first time with the rest of your cast. This is the first time you hear your voice in contrast or comparison with someone else’s. Are your understandings the same? Then, you stage the play and make choices with the language in the ballpark of where you think it might end up. “Oh, I might say this line like this.” Then, if you have a long enough rehearsal process, all of a sudden, you’re saying the lines every day and sometimes even more than once. This is where the real magic happens. Now you are hearing things in a new way, seeing things differently, and experiencing the language from a scene partner. Every day there is a new discovery: a word is said differently, a pause is taken at a new moment, or the words inspired something new.
At this point in the process, the words have taken on entirely new meaning. Michael wrote them with some reason in mind as to why the character says them and how they say them. We, as a cast, then took these words and developed our own meaning for them in conjunction with the character. Now, in a very short time, the audience will hear them, and they will invent their own meaning and understanding. What started out as words on paper is now a fully embodied and developed theatrical experience.
- Steele Whitney
"The Astronomer"
I find that one of the most fascinating things about acting is that the more that you do something, the deeper you go. And with text as rich as this, you can make new discoveries forever. I imagine a tire making a path in a dirt road; the more the tire goes over the same spot, the more familiar it gets. Eventually the first impression in the dust has become a well-worn crater.
You read the script before the first rehearsal in your head, maybe trying out a couple of lines here and there. Then, you read it aloud for the first time with the rest of your cast. This is the first time you hear your voice in contrast or comparison with someone else’s. Are your understandings the same? Then, you stage the play and make choices with the language in the ballpark of where you think it might end up. “Oh, I might say this line like this.” Then, if you have a long enough rehearsal process, all of a sudden, you’re saying the lines every day and sometimes even more than once. This is where the real magic happens. Now you are hearing things in a new way, seeing things differently, and experiencing the language from a scene partner. Every day there is a new discovery: a word is said differently, a pause is taken at a new moment, or the words inspired something new.
At this point in the process, the words have taken on entirely new meaning. Michael wrote them with some reason in mind as to why the character says them and how they say them. We, as a cast, then took these words and developed our own meaning for them in conjunction with the character. Now, in a very short time, the audience will hear them, and they will invent their own meaning and understanding. What started out as words on paper is now a fully embodied and developed theatrical experience.
- Steele Whitney
"The Astronomer"
Sunday April 2nd -
As a young man I said I would not return to the stage.
I stood at my entrances in those days like I was preparing to walk toward a firing squad waiting out there in the dark.
After my exits I would sit in a stupor, puzzled why I had survived, while the audiences’ reactions faded like some sort of strange and muffled thunder.
Acting was eventually satisfying, yes, after each performance slipped into the past, but being on stage years ago was too much anxiety for this fellow.
Then, recently, after a lifetime career in newspaper work, I acted upon something that I had held in the back of my mind all these years: when I became a senior citizen I would attempt to work as a character in film, sort of, if lucky, like Festus on Gunsmoke, or Gunther on Friends.
Five years ago, in one of my first submissions, I got such a role on House of Cards. “Don’t blink or you’ll miss it,” is an understatement. No lines. I smoked a cigar and shuffled poker cards and not much else. But it started a long string of such film roles.
In film there is no audience, only the crew on set, who for the most part have seen it all from characters like me. I can try this tone, do that expression, turn a phrase. If I cough or stumble, then it’s just “Take Two.” Not so in the theater, where each night contains only one attempt.
So why now back to the stage? Well for one thing I'm not the wide-eyed diffident actor I once was, and I simply became enthralled with the writing of Michael Seebold and this character of Blind Dutch Master in Etched Glass Decanter. I may not do the role justice, but I now know I can damn well go out and try, and enjoy it ... I think.
- Michael Short
"The Blind Dutch Master"
As a young man I said I would not return to the stage.
I stood at my entrances in those days like I was preparing to walk toward a firing squad waiting out there in the dark.
After my exits I would sit in a stupor, puzzled why I had survived, while the audiences’ reactions faded like some sort of strange and muffled thunder.
Acting was eventually satisfying, yes, after each performance slipped into the past, but being on stage years ago was too much anxiety for this fellow.
Then, recently, after a lifetime career in newspaper work, I acted upon something that I had held in the back of my mind all these years: when I became a senior citizen I would attempt to work as a character in film, sort of, if lucky, like Festus on Gunsmoke, or Gunther on Friends.
Five years ago, in one of my first submissions, I got such a role on House of Cards. “Don’t blink or you’ll miss it,” is an understatement. No lines. I smoked a cigar and shuffled poker cards and not much else. But it started a long string of such film roles.
In film there is no audience, only the crew on set, who for the most part have seen it all from characters like me. I can try this tone, do that expression, turn a phrase. If I cough or stumble, then it’s just “Take Two.” Not so in the theater, where each night contains only one attempt.
So why now back to the stage? Well for one thing I'm not the wide-eyed diffident actor I once was, and I simply became enthralled with the writing of Michael Seebold and this character of Blind Dutch Master in Etched Glass Decanter. I may not do the role justice, but I now know I can damn well go out and try, and enjoy it ... I think.
- Michael Short
"The Blind Dutch Master"
Saturday April 1st -
As we get closer to opening night, making the change from virtual rehearsals to being in the space together has been where the real character work began for me. Discovering how Izhabel moves, speaks, and interacts with the world around her has been fascinating. Is she an apparition? Is she a hallucination? Does that matter when stepping into her shoes? These questions have been exciting to dive into while I operate within this strange world as this elusive character. Continuing to craft Izhabel’s physicality is what excites me most about these last few weeks of rehearsing. Blending specific movement to this beautiful language feels as if I am not just a character in a play, but a part of a living poem. The challenge becomes how can we, as actors, ground ourselves in characters that feel real and rooted, while also using our bodies and this decadent script to elicit real emotional responses from our audience? This is what we are striving to do both as individual actors and a cohesive cast, and with each run of the show we are one step closer to perfecting our living, breathing poem.
- Ellen Keith
"Izhabel"
As we get closer to opening night, making the change from virtual rehearsals to being in the space together has been where the real character work began for me. Discovering how Izhabel moves, speaks, and interacts with the world around her has been fascinating. Is she an apparition? Is she a hallucination? Does that matter when stepping into her shoes? These questions have been exciting to dive into while I operate within this strange world as this elusive character. Continuing to craft Izhabel’s physicality is what excites me most about these last few weeks of rehearsing. Blending specific movement to this beautiful language feels as if I am not just a character in a play, but a part of a living poem. The challenge becomes how can we, as actors, ground ourselves in characters that feel real and rooted, while also using our bodies and this decadent script to elicit real emotional responses from our audience? This is what we are striving to do both as individual actors and a cohesive cast, and with each run of the show we are one step closer to perfecting our living, breathing poem.
- Ellen Keith
"Izhabel"
Friday March 31st -
I’ve found working on this character an incredible challenge for my imagination. That may sound slightly silly. You might ask, doesn’t every character require using your imagination? Yes, of course that’s true, but this one feels next level. The entire show takes place in a state of emergency, and the stakes only escalate. This is most apparent when my husband and I are transported to a landscape we do not know, every detail of which I’ve had to create in my mind. See what it’s like if you try it yourself: close your eyes and imagine you’ve just been sent to a different realm and you don’t know how it’s happened. How would you react? Then, try describing something you have never seen before.
Worldbuilding and visualizing as many details as possible takes a lot more time than you might think. The possibilities are endless and you have to be specific with your choices. For the entire second half of the play it feels like almost every line is a brand new experience. They paint a very specific visual picture. It’s beautiful and decadent and textured and full of layers. We have to find as many ways as possible to convey how fantastically dynamic everything we’re “seeing” is. Just saying the words is not nearly enough.
- Lena Vani
"The Astronomer's Wife"
I’ve found working on this character an incredible challenge for my imagination. That may sound slightly silly. You might ask, doesn’t every character require using your imagination? Yes, of course that’s true, but this one feels next level. The entire show takes place in a state of emergency, and the stakes only escalate. This is most apparent when my husband and I are transported to a landscape we do not know, every detail of which I’ve had to create in my mind. See what it’s like if you try it yourself: close your eyes and imagine you’ve just been sent to a different realm and you don’t know how it’s happened. How would you react? Then, try describing something you have never seen before.
Worldbuilding and visualizing as many details as possible takes a lot more time than you might think. The possibilities are endless and you have to be specific with your choices. For the entire second half of the play it feels like almost every line is a brand new experience. They paint a very specific visual picture. It’s beautiful and decadent and textured and full of layers. We have to find as many ways as possible to convey how fantastically dynamic everything we’re “seeing” is. Just saying the words is not nearly enough.
- Lena Vani
"The Astronomer's Wife"
Thursday March 30th -
Thoughts at will in a rehearsal room:
In this room, we watch for 'Idea,' rare, hesitant, unoccluded by the monoliths of plot and platitude.
Five planets cascading from the moon like teardrops or as by string a few nights back lent a fittingly rare & liquid picture. In the rehearsal room, one of the Cast mentions it is Lent.
So this watching for 'Idea', malleable, novel, resembles weather on a spring day cool enough for fall.
Thoughts at will:
this instant and not some other, stands in relation to every other; but then, of course, so does every other.
Searching for a mood & tone.
- Michael Seebold
Playwright/Director
Thoughts at will in a rehearsal room:
In this room, we watch for 'Idea,' rare, hesitant, unoccluded by the monoliths of plot and platitude.
Five planets cascading from the moon like teardrops or as by string a few nights back lent a fittingly rare & liquid picture. In the rehearsal room, one of the Cast mentions it is Lent.
So this watching for 'Idea', malleable, novel, resembles weather on a spring day cool enough for fall.
Thoughts at will:
this instant and not some other, stands in relation to every other; but then, of course, so does every other.
Searching for a mood & tone.
- Michael Seebold
Playwright/Director