Portland Story Theater Wraps

Portland Story Theater is wrapping up its 2006-07 season. *sniff* It's going to be a long wait until the 2007-08 season commences. September? October? I so look forward to the shows. I'm especially enjoying Lawrence Howard's contributions, because although they aren't exactly a serial, there are recurring characters, so each story evokes memories of a previous story. I really enjoy the continuity; also, the slow revelation of history and connections. Lovely and compelling.

Michael Hall Delivers In Portland

Michael Hall was in town last weekend to debut his new seminar, Unleashed! The Ultimate Self-Actualization Workshop.

Chalk it up to journalistic prejudice, but I seldom trust anything with an exclamation point in the copy. Yes, I use it myself, because it works. But exclamation points always seem a little shrill to me. So does the word ultimate. That probably comes from my writing teacher telling me to get rid of those goddamn adverbs and adjectives and look for some decent nouns and verbs, instead. And my dislike of nominalizations (self-actualization) comes from both NLP and NVC. Nominalizations take a perfectly good verb and freeze it into a vague, static illusion of a noun. Ick.

Despite my disappointment with his workshop titles (Accessing Personal Genius didn't go down in my book of unforgettable titles, either), Hall is an engaging, warm, enthusiastic and well-organized presenter, and I have found his material extremely useful. Once you get in the door, the time flies by, and the processes are quite elegant -- simple, effective, flexible, creative, and applicable to a variety of different challenges. He calls his work Neurosemantics, developed from NLP. I wish I could get more people to attend his workshops, but it's hard to make a case for them when the titles are so off-putting. Sigh.

Jerry Harris's Oregon Tour

Last night, I saw comedy hypnotist Jerry Harris at a club in Salem. The opening act was a magician who goes by the name of Alexander; his promo materials said he'd won the Portland-area magician's close-up act award. I remember the first exposure I ever had to close-up magic, at The Magic Castle, and how dizzy I felt when an innocent-looking fellow spelled out my telephone number using a deck of cards. Wild.

Alexander did some nice work, as did Jerry Harris. Using props in a hyp show is something I've heard about, but never seen, and Harris had some well choreographed bits with fun hats. I'm now trying to think of how I can use a hat as a prop in my show... Finnegan's toy store downtown has a Viking hat I'd love to use in a skit.

Harris must have had 20 different audio programs for sale. I was impressed. If you've got a problem, he's got a hypnotic solution. I'd like to develop a program that will turn PC people into Macintosh fans.

Birth of an Addiction

I remember precisely when I became hooked on Portland Story Theater. During their 2004 production of Love, Death & Other Scary Stuff, I had a moment of being utterly astonished and transported - as though I'd just come face to face with impossible beauty, like a Georgia O'Keefe painting or one of those first-snow mornings in a forest that seems like stepping into Narnia.

And Then the Bed Broke, Portland Story Theater's current production at Brooklyn Bay, links these moments into a chain that invites the audience into a don't-miss evening of storytelling that's seamless, energetic, bright, and funny as hell.

Olga Sanchez is ultimately responsible for the theme and title of the program, and the ensemble opening tale frames the evening with real-world whimsy.

Sanchez's closing story examines online dating with similar realism and whimsy. Drama, enlightenment, humor, despair, how an elaborate fantasy of wedded bliss can bloom from a simple e-mail: It's all there. Tightly constructed, with the diction and rhythm of a poet, Sanchez is a jewel.

Alton Chung opened the Portland Storytellers Guild's 2005 season with stories about "lo lo" (stupid) that had me laughing so hard I was sucking on my asthma inhaler for the next three days. Last Valentine's Day, his stories evoked a sense of loneliness and longing. He never fails to surprise me with his range, and this show was no different.

Chung takes the audience on a cross-country plane trip that describes a 20-year friendship at a turning point. As Chung recalls meetings, decisions, and the families we choose, he dips into scenes from memory and re-members them fully in the present. Like Dumbledore's pensieve from the Harry Potter novels - a device which stores memories for later reflection - these are moments of magic. Transitions are generally a storyteller's bane, but Chung showcases them here with the deft mastery of an artist.

In another story, he adds to my vocabulary once again (I owe him thanks for "lo lo"), this time describing hysterical euphemisms for... no, I'd better not go there.

Lynne Duddy and Lawrence Howard have their solo pieces: Duddy adds her own perspective to an e-mail describing how to decode women's expressions, and Howard, in a blend of Bob Dylan meets Spike Jones, recounts a relationship's development and demise in the time it takes to run the Kentucky Derby.

Duddy and Lawrence really shine, however, in their tandem telling of a marriage shared for 25 years. Male and female, husband and wife, the two also elicit a stylistic point and counterpoint, simultaneously telling two stories, one in the voice of a traditional mythology of the beginnings of men and women; and the other in a contemporary voice, memories of synchronicity, overalls and mistletoe, of hippies and cultural roles, of identity, conflict, honor and devotion. Their delivery is so conversational, intimate and generous that you'd swear you were hearing the tale at their dining room table over coffee. They display the expert's mark of making a difficult craft seem effortless.

My only complaint about the show is its two-weekend run... blink and it's gone. Don't wait. Give yourself a gift and add this evening to memories you'll cherish.

Do you like having your photograph taken? I don't. I hate it. It's boring, tiring, and I never like the results. My eyes squint, my hair gets tired, I start to sweat. Bleah.

But I had to get a head shot.

I called a photographer I knew and trusted, but she was going to Minnesota for six weeks. So I called Tim Jewett.

Tim is a photojournalist who has worked for every major paper in Portland: The Oregonian, the Willamette Week, and the Tribune. He does commercial photography and product shots. His work rocks. I figured head shots were beneath him, I knew I couldn't afford him, but I thought he might be able to steer me in the right direction.

Lesson #1: Clothing consultants always tell you not to shrink from high-cost items because they look better and wear longer than cheap stuff. It's an investment. I learned the same thing goes for photography.

It turned out that I could afford his services, and in retrospect, he's underpriced, because he took so many terrific photos, it was hard for me to choose. In fact, I will be purchasing more from him.

More lessons I learned about sitting for a head shot:

Know how you're going to use the photos. Will they be on your Web site? In the newspaper? 8x10 glossies? Color or black and white? Also, what message do you want your audience to get from your photos? Are you exciting? Reliable? Daring? Tell your photographer. He can help you make decisions about what to wear and how to sit.

Take several outfits. This was Tim's advice, and I took it. Shirts, jackets, earrings, necklaces - it will give you a choice, and choices give you power and flexibility.

If you have dark hair, notice the background the photographer is using. Ask for a lighter background, or for a splash of light behind you to add a bit of contrast.

Bring examples of photos you like. These can be photos of yourself, or photos of others. (Think about those magazines lying around beauty salons. Examples give the photographer guidance.)

GET NONREFLECTIVE LENSES. Light is a photographer's best friend. Reflections can be his worst enemy. I shudder to think how many photos Tim had to trash because my glasses weren't made of nonreflective material.

Don't be afraid of the quiet smile. We're all familiar with the friendly, outgoing expression behind, "Say cheese!" But the quiet smile can express warmth, interest, mystery, and a thousand other emotions. Experiment with it.

Ask questions. If the photographer is using digital equipment, ask to see a few shots. No one likes to have their creativity curtailed, and no one wants their time wasted. If you like one pose, expression, or outfit more than another, say so. Counterintuitively, this actually gives you more choices, because you more shots containing the components you know you want. At the same time, don't be afraid to get a variety of shots. Sometimes, the pose that seemed silly or pedestrian during the shoot may stand out as a keeper later on.

Take a mirror and check your appearance every so often.

Pet-sitters and vacations: I got home from my Thanksgiving road trip to Los Angeles and Las Vegas to find my cats happy and healthy, thanks to the pet sitter who miraculously appeared when I most needed her.

About six weeks before the trip, I phoned Janice Rizzi, who'd been recommended to me once upon a time. She's no longer pet-sitting - she's now owner of Rad Cat, a raw pet food manufacturing company. (Coincidentally - if you believe in coincidence - I've been feeding Rad Cat to my kitties on the recommendation of my vet.) She gave me the number of her pet-sitter, who was already booked for the Thankgiving and Christmas holidays.

She referred me to Lara Uskovich, who came by and met Garbo and Cellophane, got a tour of the apartment, and watched the feeding ritual, and learned where all the good cat toys live.

I worried. This was the first extended trip I'd taken for years. Lara assured me I could call her and check in anytime. I didn't want to seem like a stage mother, and she had my number in case of emergency, so I didn't call... but I did worry.

I came home to happy kitties - happier than they are when I have to go away for an overnight trip! Lara also left me the most delightful daily diary of each visit: how much they ate, where they were sleeping when she arrived, how much petting, brushing and play time they got... it was adorable.

If you need a pet-sitter, give Lara a call at Buck's Adventure Dogs. (Yes, she does dogs, too.)

On Inclusion

At a parish meeting many years ago, the rector announced the results of a safety inspection. The beautiful cedar trees surrounding the church needed to be fire-treated because of their proximity. Spend tens of thousands of dollars for the treatment... or endless thousands in city fines... or cut them down. We had to decide -- and act -- within the time limit on the citation.

The vestry (board of directors) recommended removing the trees. The rector asked for any discussion. After a long silence, the rector said, "Well, since there are no objections, we'll have the trees removed."

When we left church that day, a fellow parishioner approached me, horrified. "I can't believe they'd just go ahead and make a decision like that!"

"What are you talking about?" I said. "They asked for discussion!"

"I wasn't going to raise my hand. Nobody else did. I think people were intimidated. It sounded as though the decision had already been made."

"It was a recommendation," I said. It wasn't final until no one objected."

"Well, I think it's awful," the parishioner huffed.

"It's not like they were going to cut off your head if you asked for more details or objected," I said. "Nobody put a gag in your mouth. If you're too afraid to speak out in a room full of your friends, you've got no right to complain."

I was younger then and spoke more harshly than I would now. The encounter lingers, though, even 20 years later. I'm sure the rector and vestry wanted to include everyone in the decision -- otherwise, why ask for input? Could they have used another approach? Most certainly. Could it have been one that made everyone feel included?

Is it possible to "make" someone feel included? Or is inclusion defined by each individual, in a specific context? As a nominalization, I suspect inclusion is one of those things that needs to be described in observation language (what a videocamera would pick up) before any group can come up with useful strategies to achieve it.