My process with solo shows involves sharing bits of text with audiences when I don’t really know where it’s going, or how it’s going to end. I’m pivoting myself to the responses from the audience — I sniff out where I want to go, and how I want to shape the piece. Through creating solo shows, I discovered how much I love this direct, unfettered relationship with an audience.
We wanted an opportunity for more flexible seating so you could have different configurations — we wanted technical upgrades and general upgrades also. Later we recognized the need in the community to have a dance-friendly space. So that's a need that we've found and added. Like with any kind of process, I think we started with an idea and started to break that down. I think we're still in that process.
In my heart there is anger; sadness; grief for my more naïve self. Because after Dear Evan Hansen, I do not feel as if I’ve been found, as the film’s tagline so bravely promised I would be. I feel instead as if I’ve been left behind to atrophy in the Music Box Theatre some five hundred miles away, a nineteen-year-old ghost in an echoing auditorium.