Yellow and Cello: Norfolk, VA

Got up and made some final follow-up efforts with DC area theatres, thus far to no avail. I also did some research into other options in the DC market. All of this is time consuming work and before I knew it I had to leave for my next audition. I went back through the Midtown Tunnel and found a parking spot…discovering once I went to pay the meter that someone had left me with a whopping 45 minutes of free parking!

Virginia Stage Company’s offices are housed in an unassuming building in downtown Norfolk, up a creaky flight of uneven stairs. No decoration adorns the beat up white walls of the hallway. In the claustrophobic waiting area, I was asked by numerous passersby if I had been taken care of, and I responded each time in the affirmative. After a short time, my auditor came out. Chris Hanna, Artistic Director, reminded me a little of a slightly gayer version of a psychology teacher I had in school mixed with a dash of Harold Prince. He asked me questions about my trip and about Homer (who was, of course, strapped to my back) and we engaged in friendly conversation as we walked through the plain white halls, down stairs and through a set of doors. Before I knew it we were standing in the theatre, which was lavishly and richly ornamented, in sharp to the rest of the building. The theatre took my breath away. The stage killed me.

They are currently running a play called INDOOR/OUTDOOR by Kenny Finkle. I have no idea what the play is about, but the set was intriguing and made me want to read it – the entire stage was covered in plush yellow carpet - garish primary Big Bird yellow. Upstage a cutout of a house and a large moon were resting, and from the flies hung various objects, all of which were also covered in the same plush yellow carpet. It was ghastly and hilarious and somehow thrilling.

Chris paused while telling me the tale of their difficulties with the ridiculous and sublime set: the expense involved in yellow carpeting, getting just the right shade and maintaining it throughout their run (which was in its final weeks). He then offered me a choice. He said if I preferred we could do the audition in the lobby, or we could do it on the stage but I would have to take off my shoes in order to preserve the ghastly gorgeous carpeting –

My shoes were off before he finished his sentence!

The stage felt so good, in spite of its coloring. Throughout this Audyssey, I’ve noticed that my auditions bump up to a new level and are just a few notches more fun when I’ve been fortunate enough to be onstage. A special strain of adrenaline kicks in. Surely, the auditor sees me up there and realizes, as I do each time, that I belong on a stage!

I had planned to do the Doris/Touchstone combo. I usually perform Doris’ monologue sitting down, and here there were no sitables, just that vast expanse of yellow. So, moved by the spirit of Judy Garland, I sat myself right down on the edge of that stage, legs crossed and dangling over the side, and launched into a full fledged Doris, luxuriating in the sound of Doris’ raspy voice as it bounced through the perfect acoustics of that space. Chris was thoroughly entertained and enthusiastic. I then jumped up and in my stocking feet used the entire stage for a big long cross during the very animated Touchstone snippet. Again, Chris seemed to really enjoy my work, called it wonderful, and asked me if there was anything else I wanted to show him, since I had come all this way.

What to do? I asked if there was anything specific he wanted to see and he didn’t say anything. So I decided to do my Chekhov piece. It went well and Chris seemed to really like that one, too.

I hopped down from the stage and Chris guided me back through the building to the street entrance once I was re-shod. He said that they were just winding down their season, but that once they decided on next season he would surely keep me in mind for anything he thought might suit me.

I returned to the car after a brief walk up the street to find that I had one minute left on the meter. Sweet!

I drove back to the motel to check email but still had no responses about DC. I ate leftover pizza and then played the cello for a good solid productive two hours.

Homer has been playing tricks on me – he seems temperamental. Part of the problem is that I have not spent enough time playing, and part of it is probably the shifting temperatures and the newly arid climate after years on the gulf coast, but some days he sounds great and some days he really doesn’t. He also doesn’t seem to be staying in tune consistently as he was when I was playing on him in November in Florida. I’m anxious to get him back to NYC and have him checked out by Peter Lewy, my incredible cello teacher, who will likely be able to help. This afternoon, Homer sounded full and warm and gorgeous no matter what I was playing. Then I took a break, wrote yesterday’s Salty entry and had dinner. When I returned to the cello later in the evening, an odd buzz had somehow developed on the D string. Mysterious.

Tomorrow Mr. Shattner goes to Washington!