This year has been heartbreaking in so many ways, all around the world. In the part of the world that I orbit, the extended pause in an entire way of life has been particularly challenging to navigate. Well, I made a thing that has helped me hash out a few thoughts on the year. It also gave me something creative to do, ultimately bringing me collaboration and connection.
You can see HEARTS TO HALF: A REFLECTION ON CONNECTION, an illustrated short, here:
Hearts to Half started in moments of thought, anxiety, depression, wondering, helplessness, etc. A combination of feelings I know I’ve had in common with countless folks over this year. As I was doing some regular marker quick-sketching for virtual events, the first versions of this short were time-lapsed marker doodles. (Catch a glimpse of early, early test video near the bottom of this post.) But as the project evolved, I felt the need to tighten things up and broaden possibilities in editing, so I went to my usual ink/digital methods. The title became marquee lights I could flicker off and on (above). See an earlier title treatment (right). And, yes, Hearts to Half was at one time going to be made up of three or four short episodes before I landed on a stand-alone short format.
Here’s what I wrote as a description on its home page:
Connection. Finding common ground. Sharing stories that tell of where we've been and where we should go. Hearts seeking a common beat.
“House to half.” The house lights in a theater dim as a signal for us to take our seats at the beginning of a new adventure: A collaboration with those creating a world we all get to inhabit for a while. It’s very likely that we all will be a little different afterwards, having been able to walk in others’ shoes briefly, enriched by words, swept away by dance, replenished by song.
When marquee lights dimmed on Broadway and around the world in March 2020, no one could have foreseen that we would be without this connection for so long. Ghost lights have kept stages from going totally dark while we all have found ways to connect virtually with online events and livestreams and fund raisers. But after one year, there are flickers of hope as we see the lights at the end of the tunnel of the Covid-19 pandemic. We look forward to once again seeing marquee and stage lights blazing and house lights dimming.
More adventure is on the horizon, friends.
And here are some thoughts on how I developed Hearts to Half:
The first “scene” is a brief look back at a way we learn to connect with others. Stories. Told by loved ones around a dinner table, a childhood bed, a fireplace. I call these characters “the storytellers” and it may already be visually evident that their forms will evolve into something else soon. I added the other kids here as a representation of our siblings or cousins or friends. Any humans who make up our earliest fellow audience members. The glow of one’s heart is passed from one to another. Note: Our main character that we follow here is meant to be an “everyperson.”
As our main character gets older, the shared stories of youth and the need for this connection expands to include the stories in theaters. The storytellers are still part of the fabric of this connection. The flicker and glow of the past can be found onstage as we gather with others and share a common experience. The auditorium lights dim – “House to half”, calls the stage manager. – and we’re off.
[I should acknowledge that while I’m clearly using theater as the conduit here, I acknowledge any creative adventure wherein we gather for that “something” that’s exponentially bigger than us as individuals. And although this piece is focused distinctly around New York City, I celebrate the vitality of the arts and other creative endeavors in communities across the country and around the world. The arts in communities – and schools – are the lifeblood of that current of empathy that should be at the core of our society.]
There are studies that have found that in communal experiences like attending theatre or live music, hearts tend to beat in similar pulse patterns. However true this is, I use the idea symbolically as humans joining together in shared experiences. Common ground. Celebrating, engaging, expanding.
[Note: The “show” we’re seeing onstage is meant to represent an incredibly varied bunch of theatrical styles and subjects, from high drama to musical comedy. It’s chockablock and busy, but I wanted to include a LOT in one series of images. As I was drawing this section last summer, there was a big amplification of discussions on the necessary inclusion and representation of people of color in all aspects of theatre and the arts in general. This is a discussion that must continue, and while I didn’t set out to make the video about this, I acknowledge my need, and the general need, to keep setting places for all at our creative tables.]
We’ve all had the experience being swept away by the creations of artists, especially when it draws us in and makes us feel a part of it all, asking us to walk in others’ shoes for a while and hopefully come through differently than we were before. I wanted to capture this feeling by showing our main character sort of leaping out of their heart and embracing the experience.
And then it abruptly comes to an end. This global pandemic put a huge pause in the way we gather and share our humanity.
[Note: In the theatre, for practical and traditional reasons, theater staff places a “ghost light” on the stage when a theater is otherwise dark. Practically, it partially illuminates the area so anyone entering in the dark can avoid the dangers of falling into a pit or other obstacles. Traditionally, the lore of the theatre tells us that a ghost light is illuminated to acknowledge and honor either the artists and craftspeople of that theater who have passed AND/OR the characters in the stories that have been told. It’s a comforting thought that ghost lights on stages around the world have continued to glow, awaiting a return.]
On a final stroll through Times Square and the Theater District, our human passes marquee lights and billboards for shows (past, present, and future) and crowds, and as we go, lights dim and the crowd dwindles.
[Note: The last play I saw there was The Minutes at the Cort Theatre on Wednesday, March 11, 2020 at 7pm. I was on assignment for Broadway.com, and my friend Nikki joined me at this incredibly powerful theatrical experience. The buzz (backstage and in the press) was that an usher in the area had tested positive for the virus, and I had a hint of a hunch that things were going to be changing drastically very soon. On the way home, I grabbed a bite and a beer at a local brewery, and I shopped for some groceries. The next morning we all woke to word of the country shutting down. I have yet to visit the Theater District and Times Square here in NYC. I’ve stepped foot in Manhattan just three times since the beginning of the shutdown. I know that life is beginning to emerge, and I’ll get back there soon. And I’ll continue to dream along with countless others for more.]
Although this city never fully dimmed, I used the dimming of Times Square as a symbol of the heartbeat of the city stopping.
[A note about music: At some point, I was realizing that this thing that was emerging from my desk was going to need some music. Being delusional early on, I thought that my meager musical abilities might be sufficient (voice, ukulele, toy piano, slide whistle) but I quickly banished that thought. At one point, I chatted with a friend who is a genius on the ukulele to score it. I love the ukulele, but I eventually felt that this short might need a different tone. So I started thinking about talented people I know of, as well as reaching out to friends for recommendations. Our conversation led me to some research and a reconnection with Arri Lawton Simon who I worked with at Music Theatre Wichita some years back and have caught up with on occasion in years since. I looked up some of his work, his own and with writing partner Janine McGuire. (As McGuire and Simon, they have taken part in the BMI Lehman Engel Musical Theatre Workshop and have created some really great work. Check out their work and news here.) I reached out to Arri asking him to collaborate with me on Hearts to Half, and I’m so happy he has done so. We had originally discussed just a piano score. I also knew Arri played the clarinet and secretly hoped he might include it but didn’t bring it up. First of all, when he sent me his early musical sketches, I was so moved by his amazing work and how it really made my feelings take flight. Also, there was his clarinet (named “Gracie” as I came to find out) and it just made me so happy. It brought to mind Gershwin, Rhapsody in Blue. He mentioned to me that he was going for a Gershwin/Miles Davis vibe. Yes! I also catch hints of Sondheim too. Whatever the case, it’s Arri’s voice, orchestrated for two pianos and a Bb clarinet choir. It’s so lovely, and I’m very grateful for the results.]
And after a full literal and metaphorical black-out…
We see a flicker. A screen. Another screen. Connection finding a way. We’re all still finding our way to connect in new ways, but there have been SO many amazing virtual happenings over this past year, and I used screen captures of various events to represent the vast amount of offerings. SO much to be grateful for! And while so many have created so much, and we have found ways to connect – coming together to support one another, having “water cooler” moments to talk about, glimpses into aspects of folks that we otherwise wouldn’t have had – I think we can all acknowledge a fatigue from the vast amount and from the extended hours of sitting in front of screens.
[Note: Because part of the purpose of this segment is to symbolize both the connection (symbolized by the illustrated versions of the photos) but ALSO to acknowledge the lack of in-person connection and the occasional fatigue, I’ve edited this segment in waves of visuals, sometimes making it tricky to see everything clearly. So I’ve frozen stills of each wave to show detail. Just a representation of a small fragment of these efforts. WAVE 1 (counterclockwise from right): 1. Dr. John LaPook and his regular medical updates on Stars in the House, 2. Michael Urie in Buyer and Cellar on Broadway.com, 3. Rosie O’Donnell and Chita Rivera on the one-night reboot of the Rosie O’Donnell Show, 4. Seth Rudetsky and James Wesley and their amazing Stars in the House, 5. Meryl Streep, Audra McDonald, and Christine Baranski singing “Ladies Who Lunch” as part of Sondheim’s 90th birthday celebration on Broadway.com, 6. Brian Stokes Mitchell singing “The Impossible Dream” out his window to honor first responders and essential workers, 7. Bernadette Peters and other Broadway luminaries singing “Sunday” on the TKTS steps. I also included in image that was part of our efforts at Lights of Broadway Show Cards, not pictured in this particular graphic.]
[WAVE 2 (clockwise from bottom center right): 1. Rob McClure’s Conductor Cam, 2. Jim Caruso and Ruby Locknar of Pajama Cast Party, 3. Marie’s Crisis virtual piano bar, 4. Leslie Carrara Rudolph bringing joy by way of candy-crazed Lolly Lardpop, 5. Lin-Manuel Miranda and Lord Andrew Lloyd Webber’s happy rivalry, 6. Julie Halston and Virtual Halston, 7. National Theatre Live represented here by James Corden in One Man, Two Guvnors, 8. the [title of show] Show Virtual Vineyard Theatre Show Show Show (could never remember that title) featuring Mindy, 9. Billy Stritch and Billy’s Place. I also included a glimpse of the iconic Broadway Up Close Tours sign in Times Square, not pictured in this particular graphic.]
[WAVE 3 (counter clockwise from lower right): 1. Cast and orchestra members of Ain’t Too Proud virtually offering “I’m Losing You” highlighting the Black Lives Matter movement and the election, 2. Lillias White and Andre DeShields as honored and going head-to-head on Broadway Advocacy Coalition’s Broadway VS. benefiting the Cody Renard Richard’s Scholarship Program, 3. a Zoom call I’ve gratefully taken part in somewhat regularly over this year, 4. a regular panel discussion on BIPOC representation in theatre led by Michael James Scott on Broadway.com, 5. Michael McElroy and Broadway Inspirational Voices’ virtual concert, 6. Ann Harada, Austin Ku, Thom Sesma, and Kelvin Moon Loh performing “Someone in a Tree” on Sondheim’s 90th event on Broadway.com, 7. an episode of Stars in the House with Shele Williams and Robin De Jesus, 8. Jim Caruso’s Pajama Cast Party episode featuring Natalie Douglas, 9. Rob McClure’s Conductor Cam. As you may have realized, I’m focusing on a moment that I’ve felt has been vivid to me in the discussion of race in the theatre and my personal evolution and growth on the issue. The moment of Rob’s Conductor Cam when he passes the baton to Kalena Bovell. You can see that video – Rob’s Conductor Cam “Poco a poco, accelerando” – here.]
[WAVE 4 (counterclockwise from bottom lower right): 1. Kalena Bovell on Conductor Cam, 2. Save Birdland! virtual concert to save the club, 3. Bill Irwin of the Vineyard Theatre’s Busker Project, 4. NBC’s One Night Only: The Best of Broadway hosted by Tina Fey, 5. Jefferson Mays in A Christmas Carol, 6. the Christmas Day telethon raising funds to save the West Bank Café, 7. Ratatousical: The Ratatouille TikTok Musical, 8. Dancing for Democracy event to raise awareness of the importance of voting in the 2020 election.]
[As a final wave of this segment, I included a nod to whatever pop-ups and adventures that will come our way as the weather improves here in NYC. There are some wonderful things happening already and much more to come. And while the economy of the commercial theatre of NYC may still be a ways from coming back, connection will find a way.]
The waves of online connection give way to the screen signaling a return to live theatre.
[Note: A note on the color palette. I knew as I was creating this piece that the choice of red and blue may evoke political parties. This is not my intention at all. I chose these colors based on temperature (warmth and comfort of the reds and oranges, cool of the blues). There’s a comfort and familiarity to the “before time” and a cold disconnect of trying to connect virtually. But as we move into the final scenes, the colors intertwine, symbolizing the gathering of lessons learned and sensibilities attained into whatever the next chapter will bring.]
Here, you can get a clean look at all the show titles and lyrics that have made up my Times Square signage. These were of course chosen to combine at this moment to convey new messages for a new time…
“The world only spins forward.”
The people return. The lights flicker on and shine brightly.
House lights dim to half. Hearts beat.
“A blank canvas. So many possibilities.”
That’s a peek into my brain and heart as I made this thing. We’ve had time to sit with our thoughts a lot this year. I’m already an over-thinker and I’m not always confident that I’m adequate at communicating those thoughts, but I gave it a good try here. A lot of personal specificities in a sea vague generalities, but a lot of common ground with so many. I hope.
Here are some early video tests when Hearts to Half was early in its creation: