Preface and Vogel

Prelude (To a Kiss?): 

I began my first blog entry rather pompously, stating my apparent disinterest in capitalization, along with a devotion to the aesthetic beauty of actor Joseph Gordon-Levit.  I must admit: I have grown.  No longer do I submit to laziness in my writing.  No longer do I remain solely committed to the attractiveness of the aforementioned actor.  This is due, in large part, to my crash course in directing (read: life) handed to me by the staff of Long Wharf, director Bart Sher, supervisor and friend Eric Ting and, most recently, our Artistic Director Gordon Edelstein.  My focus in the subsequent blog entries will be one of maturity, one focused on opening our rehearsal room to you and sharing my experiences in working with some of the most innovative directors in contemporary performance.  

Upcoming blog entries include a rumination of family and loss through the lens of our upcoming production of Arthur Miller’s THE PRICE, as well as a reflection on “inspiration” in New York City.  Until then…

The Kiss:

On a completely unrelated note, Gordon asked me to take notes on a convocation speech given by Paula Vogel at his daughter’s college.  The speech was quite moving and, at one point, she recounts a particularly altering visit to the Texas Book Depository.  As she was contemplating the possibility of a lone gunman from the window, the voice of John F. Kennedy came from an adjacent monitor.  He said:

 “A nation reveals itself not only by the men it produces but also by the men is honors, the men it remembers.  In America, our heroes have customarily run to men of large accomplishments.  But, today, this country honors a man whose contribution was not to our size but to our spirit, not to our political beliefs but to our insight, not to our self esteem but to our self-comprehension.  The men who create power make an indispensable contribution to the nation’s greatness.  But the men who question power make a contribution just as indispensable, especially when that questioning is disinterested.  For they determine whether or not we use power, or power uses us.  Our national strength matters but the spirit which informs and controls our strength matters just as much.  When power leads man towards arrogance, poetry reminds him of his limitations.  When power narrows the arrears of man’s concern, poetry reminds him of the richness and diversity of his existence.  When power corrupts, poetry cleanses.  I look forward to an America which will reward achievement in the arts as we award achievement in business and statecraft.  I look forward to an America which will not be afraid of grace and beauty.”

She closes:

“[Since this speech] there have been no subsequent Presidential addresses on the arts.  This is terrifying to me.”