Category Archives: Personal Bio

Introducing……

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One fish
Two fish
Red fish
Blue fish.

Redfish Bluefish Creative Cafe is the perfect venue for our site specific play that we will be developing in the next coming months – with a little help from our friends.  The cafe is in the heart of the Annex, only a few blocks away from Fringe Headquarters.  Redfish Bluefish is less than a year old and has already made its mark.  It serves delicious organic coffee and tea, munchies and has a wonderful atmosphere of an oasis for the local community.

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The cafe has been selected as a nominee in The Best Of Toronto.  Wouldn’t it be wonderful if they won?  We need your help.

Take a moment to link to http://140345.polldaddy.com/s/best-of-toronto?p=1 and vote for Redfish Bluefish in the catagory of new cafes.  

While you’re at, take a look at our new website: http://momzandmoremomz.wordpress.com/  It will tell you what is happening with our project and how you can get involved.  Right now we’re looking for volunteers to workshop with us in order to mine material for the script.  We’re looking for Moms of all kinds to play with us and help develop the text.  The workshops will be theatre based with lots of games, exercises and activities.

We’re looking at a series of six Tuesday evening workshops beginning January 7th at the cafe.  You can come to one evening or all six or whatever is convenient for you.  We’re asking people to bring wine and or snacks to share with the other Moms.

It will be a blast.

Doodling, Fuck and Other Four Letter Words

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Under certain and very specific conditions, of which my students were all fully advised and aware, swearing in scripts and scene work in my classes was condoned.

Blind censorship does not help anyone to think critically on their own.  Learning how to discern between what is gratuitous or simply added for shock value and what is critical to the character or the situation is a valuable learning skill for artists and audiences.There was one dirty four letter word one word however, that students were never, ever, ever, ever allowed to use in my studio:

SKIT

I became the  horrified drama queen if a student referred to their work as a skit.  I’d gasp. or moan, or sometimes, shriek.

“YOU SAID THE FOUR LETTER WORD!”

What’s so wrong with the word, they’d ask.

“Boy Scouts do skits!  Camp kids do skits!  MATH teachers do skits!. Drama students DO NOT DO or even say that four letter word that begins with an “s” and ends with a “t” – and it’s not “SHIT”!

It was as much fun as the times I’d send them outside the studio to spit, spin and swear for that other taboo word.  Honestly though, like most drama teachers, the hair still stands on the back of my neck when I hear the word “skit”.

After years, I finally came up with an explanation that made sense:

A SKIT IS TO THEATRE, WHAT DOODLING IS TO ART.

So, on this lazy Sunday morning, I stumbled across a great little website http://kerbyrosanes.com/ that made me think of doodles and skits and inspired today’s blog.

Perhaps one can find artistic merit in doodles and skits, after all.

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When I first arrived as Mowat, as Head of Drama in September 1989, I informed our principal (who we shall call Mr. A.) that our first production of the season would be One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest.  It had been a few years since the drama department had mounted a play at that school; he simply nodded his head, made a note of the November dates in his calendar and he gave the quick go-ahead.

Two days before opening night Mr. A. apparently in a panic called one of the senior cast members, Jeff Jones, to his office.  He seemed very anxious and asked him how rehearsal were going.  Jeff said they were going great.  After hemming and hawing, Mr. A. finally asked Jeff if the play was “like the movie” which he had finally rented the night before. Jeff assured him that the stage play was considerably different and many of the scenes in Nicholson film aren’t in the play.  Mr. A. seemed relieved.

There were many brilliant moments in the play and that cast – with Alex Pearson, Jeff Jones, Chris Scholey, Jeff Logue and many others – may have been one of the best companies I’ve ever worked with.  The one actor I cast as one of the “incurables” Ruckley was a hulk of guy – well over 6 feet tall and 200 pounds. His costume was nothing more than an adult diaper. For most of the play, Ruckley stood upstage with his arms outstretched as if crucified. But at critical moments he stepped out of his catatonia and boomed in a deep baritone voice: “F-F-F FUCK ‘EM ALL!”   It was one of my all time favorite stage moments. The effect was both hilarious and unsettling for the audience.

Opening night sold out and the 700 seat auditorium was filled with students, parents and community members.   We placed Mr. A. in the VIP section of the house and strategically I sat a few seats behind him.  The lights went down and the play begin.   When Ruckley spoke his first line there was a considerable shift in the energy of the audience.  Before the laughter erupted it seemed as if every single person in the audience took their eyes off the stage and turned their heads to see Mr. A’s reaction.  He slumped a couple of inches lower in his seat every time the f-bomb was dropped.  By the end of the show, he could barely be seen from behind. I can’t remember if he stood at the end (which got a full standing ovation every night) but I do know it wasn’t until much later, Mr. A. finally commented about the play and that night.

256_42964335388_3951_nWhen I wished Mr. A. a happy retirement years afterwards, he smiled and asked me if I knew how upset he was with Cuckoo’s Nest. He said that he went home that night and didn’t know what he would do with me, once the dozens of complaints and grievances would pour in.  But much to his surprise,  he didn’t get a single complaint. Not one.

Mr. A. looked me in the eye and said, “I still don’t understand why not.  Can you tell me why nobody complained?”

I do know Mr. A. but if you couldn’t figure it out, I  don’t think you’ll ever understand.

 

 

 

So Where Did November Go?

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Here I am at the end of November saying, “Huh?!? Where did all the time go?”

Last week I taught a workshop on  How to Write a 10 Minute Play.  As an experiment, every activity in the workshop lasted exactly ten minutes (and yes, I used my timer on my iPhone 5 to ensure exactly ten minutes).  The students did a 10 minute warm-up, I gave a 10 minute intro,the 24 of them pitched their play ideas 10 times to 10 directors (60 seconds each), followed by a 10 minute writing session of their opening scene, 10 minutes to rehearse, 10 minutes of performances, and finally 10 minutes of debriefing after each activity.  The point was to feel how short and how long 10 minutes can be.  As expected some of these 10 minute segments were far too short, and others were painfully long.

It’s been almost 10 months since I retired.  Since then I trekked through jungles and cloud forests, rappelled down waterfalls, and drank beer while sitting in hot springs in Costa Rica.  I dog-sat three chihuahuas in San Francisco, made friends with tattooed ex-cons at the Delancy Street Project, and did a Thelma and Louise road trip around the rest of the state of California.  Our textbook entitled Rattling the Stage, was published.  I attended four days of intense workshops at Directors Lab North.  I joined a company of transmedia story-tellers via The Mission Business and performed with them in an extended five month theatrical adventure including at the Toronto Fringe, Nuit Blanche and the Evergreen Brickworks.  I was a caretaker-turned-chief-of-a-militia in an end-of-the world-apocalyptic-pandemic-with-interactive-audience-and-online-followers scenario.  That was fun.   I wrote a play.  I met at a speed-dating match up with new playwrights in order to direct a show for the New Ideas Festival next March.  I got my website (www.janetkish.ca) set up.  I started this blog.  I designed and now have my very own business cards and I guess my own freelance business as an independent artist.  I am writing a curriculum support document for our book that will be finished by the next few week (hallelujah for that!)  I got my NEXUS card and drove to Buffalo just to have lunch.  I adjudicated a Canadian play festival and have agreed to adjudicate for Sears Drama Festival in early 2013.  I started teaching master class workshops. I joined Eclat-Arts to be a guest artist next July.   I began privately coaching young actors who plan to audition for post-secondary theatre schools.  I’ve reconnected with many former students who are all grown up, long lost friends and relatives who I hadn’t seen in years. I’m taking pottery classes and went to a firing range with real live zombie hunters to learn how to shoot guns. Huzzah! I’ve applied for multiple opportunities to participate in theatre festivals and labs across North America and have begun to receive my “Thank you, but no thank you letters.” I went to a wedding of the daughter of a good friend of I’ve known since she was a baby and watched proudly as her mother and her father walked her down the aisle.  Last week, I attended a memorial of another friend who died unexpectedly and far too young.

I’m alive. I’m living.  Time is precious.

 

 

ByoLogyc, ByoBabes and ByoNuts

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I’m still recovering from Nuit Blanche.  After pulling my first all-nighter in a very, very long time, my body has reminded me that I’m no longer twenty-five….. or thirty-five….. or forty-five…. You get the picture – the last two days I’ve been hobbling as if I was eighty-five.  I wish I had lasted for the full twelve hours of performance, but holy smokes batman, who would have thought that this old broad would be acting for ten hours straight to an audience of over 3,000. I love Nuit Blanche.  I love my EXE army. I love ZED.To

Acting the role of Renata has been a wonderful segue back into performing. I’m so accustomed to directing, it’s been a blast being on the other side of the stage.  All those years of working with actors has been groundwork for the type of actor I wish to be.  All those years of teaching has also helped me create the character of Renata as she interacts with audience members.  I think of a class of rambunctious teenagers and know exactly how to address the members of the VIP and EXE.

I am proud to say I now have an official comic strip based on Renata.

I also make an appearance in the subsequent comic based on Brad’s character.  In that one, Renate is standing in the doorway watching the Markham plant being blown up.  Methinks the plot thickens.

This amazing adventure will wrap up on November 2 and 3 at Toronto’s Evergreen Brickworks, where survivors of the pandemic will fight it out.  Audience members have a choice which team they want to join.  I hope you will sign up for Renate’s Power team because, damn it, I want to win.  I really want to win.  Tickets are now on sale at http://zed.to/tickets#ticketHeader. 

A Life, Deconstructed

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One year ago, I was running our final dress rehearsals for The Dreamcatchers; after which, all the scenery, costumes, makeup, gobos, gels, CD’s and toolboxes were to be packed into nineteen rather large suitcases.  The beautiful Jiibay sticks had to be cut in three pieces in order to fit, and the holster, gun, billy sticks, sixteen O.P.P. caps and the hangman’s noose were lovingly bubble-wrapped. After almost two years of intense planning, promoting, politicking, fund-raising, creating, and rehearsing, this was a true labour of love.  We were taking our devised and very Canadian theatre piece to Scotland, to the Edinburgh Festival Fringe – the mecca for all theatre practitioners.  My people.  My tribe.

I joked that this play would be my swan song.  I didn’t realize, to a certain degree, it actually was.

I was 57 years old and had been teaching secondary school Drama in Toronto since 1979.  During that time, I taught thousands and thousands of teenagers, some of whom would grow up to be doctors, lawyers, scientists, engineers, architects, bankers, professors, carpenters, plumbers, truck-drivers and every imaginable work position that is out there. More than a few, I’m proud to say, actually went on to become successful actors, writers, designers, directors and filmmakers.

I am one of the lucky ones. I love teaching.  I love theatre.  And, I loved sharing that love and respect for the arts with my students.  Actually, it’s more than that. Theatre is my passion and obsession. Not only was I teaching drama during school hours, I was spending my evenings and weekends directing and producing.  A sixty hour week was the norm, and a hundred hour week was not unheard closer to opening night.  The best hours were those on the Saturdays and Sundays, or the late cold Monday nights in December when we could get lost in the folds and wrinkles of figuring out how to make that scene work, how to find just the right energy for that character, or how accidentally, we’d discover footlights gelled purple can create just the right tones of magic and shadows of mystery. Summers and holidays were invested in writing new plays, another obsessive-compulsive love. For a teacher in Ontario, extra-curricular activities and time are given freely, there is no compensation whatsoever.  If you are involved in the theatre you understand why we spend so much time doing what we do; most people, however, believe, we’re certifiably nuts.

One would think a fire can only burn so intensely for so long before it extinguishes itself.

The longer I worked and the older I became, the more immersed I was.  Teaching though, started to change, or at least the board politics became more complex over the years.  Earlier in my career, I had become a department head in the east end of Toronto. I actually hate administrative work, and I wasn’t planning to climb the edu-ladder.  Nonetheless, I did want to have a voice in the direction and shape of the program.  I spent fifteen years developing a drama program that was recognized provincially for excellence of curriculum and outstanding productions. Eventually, I moved to a performing arts school where I was the Curriculum Leader of the Arts.  At this school, students are required to audition and it has an excellent reputation for attracting those who are academically and artistically “gifted”.  The parents are committed in providing their children with enriched opportunities.  The environment there is exciting, vibrant, alive and throbbing with creative energies. It also happens to be exhausting to work there, and filled with never-ending pressures and deadlines.

Time flies.  Just when I acclimatized to the culture and tempo of the new school, I went through almost four years of hell.  A series of personal crises occurred: the palliative care and death of a close family member; my diagnosis of a debilitating autoimmune disease; then, another diagnosis, far more frightening and serious than the first; and finally, a long and painful recovery from thoracic surgery.   I returned to work after three months sick leave to discover I was eligible to retire the following month – February 2009.  Instead, I jumped right back into the swamp.  I wrote a new play, ran morning rehearsals at seven, and evening ones that ran until ten at night.  Three weeks after my return, Before the After Party a show about mortality, performed at a competition where it was chosen as the Outstanding Production to be featured at the Regional Showcase. I did my best to catch up with administrative work piled up in my absence, and to re-establish the flow with my classes – who basically had been on a hiatus from the time I was gone.  I couldn’t yet climb a flight of stairs post surgery, but I returned to the sixty hour work week.  I was not going to leave the job I loved with my tail between my legs.  As a matter of fact, for the next two years, I truly believed I would keep doing what I loved so profoundly, until I dropped dead in the wings.

That brings us back to The Dreamcatchers.  Creating and watching it come to fruition on the Edinburgh stage, both consumed and satiated me. It was as if I had arrived at my destination. As an educator, I had done all that needed to be done, and given all I had to give.  I found it difficult to return to the same old, same old.  That spring I’d been asked to work on a new drama textbook with McGraw-HIll Ryerson and their iLit series.  Not only did they want me to be part of the team, but also to help promote the book after it was published, by providing workshops for teachers and students. The publishing world is completely alien to me, but I couldn’t turn down the chance to do something new, and to actually contribute to an educational project that is so innovative and visionary.  I agreed, even though this was significantly inflating my already too heavy workload.

I was over-worked. I was tired.

Fast-forward to Thanksgiving weekend 2011.  I woke up that Saturday morning upset, worrying and stressing about some administrative problem that seemed very significant at the time, but honestly it’s something I now consider to be trivial. As I kept turning the problem in my head, that morning, I had a flash of insight,  an epiphany, an aha moment, if you will……   and, I knew exactly what to do.  Could it be that simple?  What would happen to me?  How could I survive without?   I mused for the next two days about my options, but the more I thought about it, the more I realized, this was the right thing to do.

It was.

On Monday, October 10, 2011 I typed up by notice of retirement and resignation letter.  I handed it to the principal the next day.  After thirty-three and a half years, I would soon be retired from teaching and my life as I knew it.

February 1st, 2012 was the beginning of my new existence. I’ve had to deconstruct all the parts of my life since then, and now I’m beginning to put some of them back together again.  There have been moments of tears, and other moments of rue, but mostly there has been laughter, adventure, new friends and new experiences.   I’m learning about myself and all the things that really matter.  I’m creating a new life. I’m creating the new me.

Oh, the drama!