Which came first, the mirror or the nature?

The genesis of The Boy in the Basement is a funny one: Katharine wrote it initially many years prior to meeting any of the cast of What Women Talk About, who subsequently became the first women to take on the roles of Xandra, Clarissa, Aurora and Anna.  After the first year and a half run of What Women Talk About it was suggested by our director that we put together a reading of Katharine's book during the hiatus before Naked in a Fishbowl at the Fringe, after she had referenced it and created a story line around it in our unscripted show.

The frightening thing was each of us fell neatly into the four respective archetypes in the show (well, except that the "virgin" in the show had just had her first child...) and I found myself comfortably ensconced, yet again, as the wise-cracking smart-ass. 

In both productions, I found odd parallels occurring between my life and my performance.  At least with WWTA, it was understandable that the show would mirror (fun-house style) our lives - as the piece was completely unscripted, much of our evolving story lines stemmed from our personal experiences. 

But every now and then, things would happen first on stage only to be repeated in my life shortly thereafter. Of course, I'm blanking completely at the moment on what those things were... but they were potent enough for me to believe things like I could actually manifest relationships by creating  story lines about them in the show... hint: it didn't work. But still, I, ever the cynic, was convinced at least for a little while it could work, banking on previous evidence.

What's fascinating me far more, though, is how much my life has aligned with Clarissa's in this current run, scripted many years ago.  Though she and I started at very different places, we seem to be converging at the same point: 

            Clarissa began her journey as a "sought-after" promiscuous vixen, after hundreds of conquests is seeking something more, and faces the pain of vulnerability in the process;

            I began my journey as a self-hating  late-bloomer, have gone through just a couple years of the casual-sex New York lifestyle (at some point I'll figure out how to actually feel casual about it) and... am seeking something more...and facing the pain of vulnerability in the process. 

The specifics of how she is inflicted with that pain is what is eerily identical for me, but I'm not about to give away the plot; buy me a drink after the show, we'll talk.

Now, on one hand: yeah, duh, you're not the first person to feel that way, Rosenberg.  Plenty of people hit a point of feeling empty after a number of random hook-ups (hi, boys).  But I think there's something bigger going on here with what theater is and what it does.

Of course, every actor (at least the good ones) brings a large part of themselves to every role they portray. But what the role brings out in them is equally important. It's not that it's so shocking that I'm going through a similar evolution as Clarissa, it's that all of our fears, emotions, striving, stem from the same places.  What we want in life - truly want, not what we attached-ly, grasping-ly think we want - are clarified and magnified when we get on stage and have to figure out what, in turn, the character wants: as much as art holds the mirror up to nature (as 'twere), nature quickly finds itself seeping out of art. 

I will say, it makes me a little nervous for what parallels the next production - whatever that may be - will draw out of me.  Just because it's a mirror, doesn't necessarily mean it's gonna be pretty...

--Lynne Rosenberg

Comments

[Q]

"Though she and I started at very different places, we seem to be converging at the same point..."

Well said. : )

[L]

Yeah. Thought of it all by myself.