Full Circle

They say that history repeats itself. Furthermore, it seems that a theatrical personality is an inescapable thing.

Sir Ken Robinson, in his 2006 TED Lecture tells us that we educate people out of their creativity, "progressively from the waist up, and then we focus on their heads, and slightly to one side". Quoting Picasso, he says that "all children are born artists. The problem is to remain an artist as we grow up". I had been indoctrinated to respect the PhD and to view my acting talent as futile, hopeless, and, like so many historical philosophies have posited, that it was worthy of derision and disrespectable. I viewed 'art' as pathetic and risible. I moved emotionally towards what I deemed loftier academic pursuits. But in 2001 something happened that began the completion of a journey started decades earlier. The closure of a circle that I only now begin to see in its full light . . .

As a child, I lived with my three adoptive siblings and two adoptive parents in a beautiful little home in a suburb of Ottawa called Nepean. I only mention adoptive as a matter of historical fact for in my young mind they were, and still are, as much my family as to any other child or to any other adult looking back on their life. The house will always fondly be remembered as 21 Meadowbank Drive and in its unfinished basement, I and my childhood friends would find many adventures building forts in my father's wood stock piles (he is a highly skilled amateur carpenter), or, as it happens, staging little plays that we would compose and present to all of the parents in the neighbourhood who were willing to come and watch their children show-off. I couldn't have been more than eight-years-old and unfortunately, distant memory has lost any hope of retelling the subject or plot line of any of our brief 'artistic' pieces forever. Budding childhood starlets who are worthy of mention include Geordie King, Charles Foster, Dale Faye and, of course, Blair and Ross Mackenzie. Ross remains in my life today, Blair has passed on long ago, and the others I could not tell hide nor hair of in the passage of time. One memory that does remain is of one occasion when Geordie's or Blair's parents perhaps (I think Ross was in it) had joined my own for a 'production'. All of the adrenaline, embarrassment, excitement, and stage fright that goes along with my acting career today was as present then as it is now. It was exhilarating. During the show, however, my brother's punching bag, which was hung in the 'stage' area we had selected was swung a little too vigorously and caught one of my fingers between its momentum and the corner of our metal furnace. It tore my finger nail clear off, which is a pain I am sadly yet to forget, and the screaming and wailing that ensued brought that particular little presentation to a definitive end. Later, our dramatic pursuits would evolve into the staging of haunted houses for which we charged admission. My mother made us donate all the proceeds to charity though, save a little that we kept to buy much deserved ice cream for the 'cast'. Another noteworthy list of names emerges including Blair and Ross Mackenzie, Todd Kowalik, Darren Mundt, Derek Saunders, Brad something-or-other, Mark Senyshin, and others, I'm sure . . . most of whom are also lost in time now. Although I maintained an artistic penchant for literature in Junior High School and High School, in both writing and a discovered love for Shakespeare, any hope of acting had been shaken from me as a foolish pipe-dream by the naysayers and relegated to a lowly artistic position in my heart. Business pursuits and higher education held a much stronger appeal, . . . or so I thought.
Once during a session with a psychotherapist named Don, an eccentric, older, gruff man with great wisdom but little foresight, he told me to be honest with myself and to inspect who I truly was. He rhetorically asked if I read The Wall Street Journal in my leisure, or even the business section of the local newspaper. Sadly the answer was no, and the revelation was both crushing and liberating. I barely made it out of my first degree in Economics but later I would pursue a degree in English Literature, and later still . . . Well, I am getting ahead of myself.
In 2001, I was looking to go and see some local Shakespearean theatre. I made several calls from the dj booth at the club for which I was (and am still) working. Ultimately I was directed to a little company called Theatre Inconnu which I called asking for ticket sale information. I ended up talking to the company owner, named Clayton Jevne, who was also the owner of the now defunct Victoria Shakespeare Festival. He laughed, saying that my December phone call was a bit too early for their exclusively summer performances. For some reason, though, he was prompted to engage me in conversation and after learning about my past, and incidentally hearing me do announcements for the club while we were on the phone, he somehow managed to convince me to come down and audition. I didn't take it very seriously but a strange mixture of whimsy and newly discovered passion prompted me to do so. And I got a part! It was minor, but my budding talent had become all too apparent to myself and the director, a woman named Wendy Merk. She openly solicited me to take a leading role in the following year's production of The Tempest for kids which I also helped her edit. My soul had been released, and so had my marriage, which crumbled under the pressure of infant children and my absence to rehearse and perform, amongst other reasons. My calling had been finally discovered, but only too late. After the dissolution of Jevne's Festival, I would become a founding member of the Victoria Shakespeare Society saving it from financial ruin on two fundraiser occasions by verbally auctioning off assets for an event that was otherwise far in the red. My performances for the VSS, as it gained in professional strength and renown, were always met with highly positive local fanfare culminating in my opus performance of Iachimo in Barb Poggemiller's vision of Cymbeline. Today I have even more local fanfare under my belt for nearly a decade's worth of stage performances and I am entering into a Master's Degree in theatre history. I was directed into that academic position by two theatre history profs who were openly astounded by my performance in their classes and an English prof who noted that my academic essays were more of a theatrical brand than analytical. It seems my association with acting and theatre has come full circle from its near loss in younger years and that 'history' has repeated itself as well as becoming part of my imminent future. I will act again. I will get my MA. My checklist is renewed. I am not done yet.

See you in hell,
Shakes.