photography by Shannon O'Neil

I jumped – high and far, and twirling.

Vincent’s Yellow opened in Chicago, IL last Thursday, on the 120th anniversary of Vincent van Gogh’s death.

I performed — my cast and I performed — this thing that has been so intimately tucked between my blood vessels, that has been continuously beating quietly alongside my heart for three years, whether or not anyone heard it. This project, this man who saved me from beyond the grave, who changed my life so significantly I turned my own life upside down for him, for whom I made personal and financial sacrifices… but who has always guided me truly, and rightly. (That is, right back to doing what I was meant to do, and thus myself.)

photography by Shannon O'Neil

Performing in this work is as natural as breathing… or perhaps climbing a mountain is a better metaphor (or I suppose a high dive was the original metaphor I chose). It is not easy, it is exhausting and utterly challenging; it is two hours filled with wonder and vitality. It is a constant, driven force, focused by fierce passion and precision. I have used (I believe) every talent I have to make this show what it is, and I have demanded no less than real Truth, real Beauty, and total commitment.

photography by Shannon O'Neil

The piece is also highly demanding of my actors. Yet my wonderful, amazing ensemble meets the challenges I set them with incredible grace and perseverance. They impress me constantly, bringing 19th century words to vibrating life, becoming paint through dance, and making sweet music and even sweeter love for those that have come to visit.

Opening weekend was a waterfall. I will be chewing over the past week for a long time to come. A critic came opening night and told me she was dazzled. I’ll leave the rest of what she told me for her to put in her review, but needless to say, I was very, very pleased. I have gotten a few responses to my show that were overflowing with gratitude.

I, for one, feel most grateful to have this opportunity, to truly show what I have to give, and to sing and dance and breathe and speak to Vincent for the rest of this month. Last year at this time, I was packing my bags for my YellowEurope trip, for Amsterdam, and for all the rest that would await me (all I could never have imagined). I would spend a month tracking you, Vincent. Now I get to spend a month loving you. Completely and utterly.

This is all I can truly grasp right now. Until soon, readers…

Don’t forget to buy your tickets if you can attend; I have a feeling once the review comes out tickets may begin disappearing quickly…

I will end with a quote of his to which I keep returning:

Thus about my work, thus about my person.
– Vincent van Gogh, August 18, 1885

I couldn’t agree more.

This past week I chose the instruments that will be thrown into our theatrical mix — a set of big, mystical-sounding chimes, a cajon (a wooden box-shaped drum) and a xylophone! I’m eagerly awaiting the latter two in the mail, and all this along with my guitar, the voices of my cast (not to mention our newest cast addition will be bringing in her viola!) will make our soundscape. It’s important to get the toys early so that you have plenty of time to play with them, you see… :)

Last week we also had a series of smaller rehearsals focusing on character work. This is particularly necessary since various members of the cast are playing ideas-made-human. They feel like flesh and blood, but their actions represent much larger movements of knowledge, myth, and history…  One thing this led to was my finally spending some time with Paul Gauguin.

Thanks to www.tate.org.uk

I know I have referred to Gauguin as an unreliable narrator, and while that’s true, that’s watering down my feelings towards him a good bit. I suppose every one needs a scape goat, and well… it’s possible he’s been mine.

The reasons that Gauguin drives me crazy are simple:

1) Vincent never physically harmed himself until he lived with Gauguin. Nor was he in an asylum before then. And while I’m aware that doesn’t prove he’s to blame, I do think things may have been quite different if some else had been in Gauguin’s place.

2) Gauguin’s accounts of his time with Vincent are inconsistent, full of myth and exaggeration, and essentially unreliable. This is also done with the desire of creating mystery, which bothers me as a researcher and someone dedicated to truth.

3) Gauguin and Vincent lived together for a measly nine weeks, and yet they are always hung side by side in museums, and basically are tied up in each other’s reputations forever.

4) Personal reasons: I don’t like his work, he’s pretty obviously self-involved, he slept around while he was married with five children (whom he left behind in Copenhagen, while he ran off to Tahiti), etc etc. I just don’t like him.

However, this past week an actor and I dug around in his childhood and early life, and I found numerous facts enlightening about him. One was that he was born in Paris, moved to Peru when he was three (his father died on the voyage), moved back to France at 7 years old. In Peru, he was raised in the house of upper-class, distant relatives. In Paris, he no longer had servants. He became a sailor at 17, and his mother died at 19. He continued sailing until he was 22.

There is dislocation and loss all over Gauguin’s biography. There is no doubt he had difficulty pinning down his own identity, and this is what led him to gain an interest in myth, in romanticizing his loss of self into mystery. It is also undoubtedly what led him towards egotism – after all he had little that was static and dependable in his life.

While I haven’t suddenly started admiring him, I do think I understand Gauguin a bit better now. Everyone comes from something and somewhere…

It’s time for me to climb into bed now, I got a busy week of fundraising, dancing, playing, singing and blocking ahead of me!

All my love, until next week…

Ever since I really saw this painting at the Met in New York City,

I wanted to somehow capture this:

I was pretty pleased with getting a photo of it, and my butterfly net of words managed to at least capture some of its vertigo with poetry, but then I desired to dance. And to sing. In fact, most of Vincent’s great paintings make me bounce my knees. And lean in too close.

I have already written some music for the show, and I have dreamed and dreamed about getting the above rhythm into my body. This week, my cast and I began this aspect of our task.

I sang the songs for them (and amazingly, I wasn’t nervous! which is great progress for me) and they are singing back, tapping an improvised drum back, and expanding with harmony. I’m teaching them some of the soundscapes I have, up until now, only plucked out on my guitar, and their voices fill up those dream-songs like hot air balloons. I’m going to try and share some more of that music with you soon.

We have also begun to try to contain Vincent’s paintings (or let them vibrate, or sing or fly away) in/through our bodies. Here are some of our first corporeal responses to those lovely paintings… Just a taste, I hope you’ll enjoy.

If you’re in Chicago, please consider coming to our first fundraiser party June 22nd, a week from tomorrow!

Tuesday, JUNE 22nd at The Spot (4437 N. Broadway Avenue) at 7pm
Play TRIVIA! Win Money! Drink!
$5 entry

Things are rolling right along, and there’s no stopping it now…