It was my sophomore year of undergrad when I went to my first play in Chicago. As a product of the South I was poorly versed in the stage, the spectacle, and even the audience. I wasn’t off to The Lyric Opera or Goodman, but took the 66 bus to a warehouse. A poster on the door read Porn and we had arrived.
Since this evening two years ago I have toured this city’s box offices, amassing playbill after playbill. From manuscripts to auditions I have continued wandering – with both successes and try-agains – into the community that is theater. I have Theater Y to thank for Porn, my first theatrical experience, and for The Binding and Happy Days that followed. And now I thank this company for my newest endeavor as I continue my wandering.
How do we get from the script to the stage? Theater is literature and art and human and sacrifice, but why? Over the next six weeks, I’ve received the privilege of sticking my nose into the community of Theater Y to witness – to behold – Penelope, O Penelope! as she is brought to the stage. I don’t claim equity or credits in any playbill that I’m aware of. But with questions and curiosity I’ll be a fly on the fourth wall.