If you come to my show, I'll show you my box

I'm now in Montreal, and of course I brought my box with me. I dragged it from Seattle to Philadelphia to New York to here. Sometimes I got asked if I needed assistance, but I told those helpful gentlemen that I only let very special people near my box. 

Horsing around on my box.
Photo by Charlie Ainslie.

At first my box was really stinky and I had to air it out on the back porch. It was also a bit tacky to the touch, but once I started working on it a couple of hours every day, it was just perfect--supported a ton of bouncing around while still looking fresh and clean.

I think my favorite thing about my box is how it blends into the background. At first you don't notice it. It doesn't make an impact until WHAM! All of a sudden you realize that my box has been there the entire time.

(Get your mind out of the gutter! I'm talking about my set.)

I have pet peeve about theater that is littered with set and props--I think it's a hindrance more than a help. Frustrated directors throw extraneous props at scenes that aren't working in a desperate attempt for something to be happening. Plus carrying a whole bunch of stuff on tour is illogical. So I designed my show to be performed in one costume with no props and a single black actor's block as the set. I let the audience use their imagination.

And audiences love to play. One of my favorite questions to ask people after they've seen the show is: What did the wedding dress look like? The protagonist of my show is dressed in a wedding gown for most of the show, but the costume I wear is a bright blue wrap dress. I've gotten such a wide variety of answers, from white strapless to cream silk to long-sleeved chiffon--and no one has ever said that they thought she was just wearing the blue dress. 

That blue dress is currently hanging my billet's living room magically having its wrinkles released by Montreal's humid, sweat-inducing climate. Good gravy, I haven't been this hot in years. I had heard that Montrealers spend their summers consistently sporting a sheen of sweat and I can report back that yes, that is a true statement. Thankfully there is beer. And today I learned that my venue, #4 Scene Voir, is next to the FRINGE beer tent. Like, literally next to it. WIN! How did I get so lucky? Seven shows, awesome venue, and best billet ever? No joke: there is a hamster at his place. A hamster named Vera. Yup, not only is Wonder Woman Ukrainian, but so is the hamster.

And no, I'm not letting that hamster anywhere near my box.