How I Became An Interim Artistic Director

How I Became An Interim Artistic Director

This post is the first of an ongoing series about my adventures and escapades as the Interim Artistic Director at the Hangar Theatre in Ithaca, New York.  

How did I become an interim artistic director?

Four hours before I boarded a plane to Istanbul, I received an email from Margaret B. Shackell, the president of the Hangar Theatre Board.  The artistic director was stepping down. I had been recommended. Was I interested in applying for the Interim Artistic Director position at the Hangar Theatre, in Ithaca, New York?

You bet your ass I was.

I thought about emailing Margaret back, but then decided against it – I would be in transit for a day, and I knew they wanted to act fast.  Besides, everybody knows that fortune favors the bold. So instead I googled her and discovered she was also an accounting professor at Cornell.  I found her office number online. When I called, it rolled to voicemail. Her cellphone number was on the outgoing message. I called her cell.  She picked up. I told her I really wanted this job, and I would write a letter before I got on the plane. (Thanks, Rafa, for packing for us both – I’d love to pretend this is because I had to write that letter, but we both know you’d have done it anyway because I hate packing so very very much)

The Hangar Theatre is a 350-seat thrust in Ithaca. The first summer I spent there was in 2001, as a Drama League Directing Fellow.  The second was two years later, when then-Artistic Director Kevin Moriarty invited me back to direct Julius Caesar with the Lab Company, which would later be re-mounted as a school tour.  Here are a list of people I met during those two summers with whom I’m still in touch, all this time later:

Dana Harrell

David Snider

Lindsey Gates

Kevin Moriarty

Lisa Bushlow

Bob Moss

Kali Quinn

Lyndsay Ruotolo

Tom Picasso

Josh Canfield

Courtney Bell

Noshir Dalal

Jennifer Joan Thompson

Amy Schluennes

Emily Fink

Ian Lowe

Jade Rothman

Rachel Fleit

Dan Knechtges

Wendy Dann 
Adam Zonder

That’s how many I can list off the top of my head, and the easiest way for me to show how influential those summers were to me.  The inimitable and magic nature of the Hangar didn’t stop for me with the people I met and the collaborations I formed. It had to do with what was expected of me as an artist.  

As a Hangar Drama League director, working in the Wedge (the experimental second stage) was the first time in my professional life that I was given the space to choose what I wanted to direct. It was a luxury to which I was so unused that it bewildered me at first: what kind of work did I want to make? What was important to me? What did I need to communicate to the world?

I did not direct this Wedge show but I found the picture online and I loved it so I'm using it because the internet didn't exist when I was in the Lab. Neither did electricity.

I directed four (4!) plays that summer: The Liddy Plays by Brooke Berman (world premiere), Orilla del Mundo by Hillary Bell (original musical), Peter Rabbit and Me (KIDDSTUFF) and The Pelican by Strindberg.  I think it’s safe to say that the Hangar is the only place where someone could have directed two world premieres, a children’s play, and one of Strindberg’s most nefarious drawing room plays all in the span of two months.

When I returned, two summers later, to work on Julius Caesar, I brought with me two designers whose work and friendship would have profound influences on me in the future: Oana Botez on costumes, and Mimi Lien on sets (MacArthur Genius Grant Recipient, 2015).  It was the first time I got to direct Shakespeare professionally. It was where I met and first cast Lab Company member Jennifer Joan Thompson, with whom I've worked at least ten times since, including my off-Broadway premiere. Jennifer is also a writer now, and I was honored when she asked me to direct her first piece, Booksmart at Studio Tisch.  Fellow Vassar alum Emily Robin Fink and Noshir, this awesome ninja I’d met in Rochester a few years earlier were in that production as well, as you will see when you check out the awesome lab video we’re making this year.

Downtown Ithaca.  I mean, come on.

I’ve had the privilege of directing at Syracuse Stage a few times over the last decade, during Tim Bond’s tenure (and whoever takes over – please remember me! I love it there!).  At least once during every rehearsal process, I’d drive down to Ithaca, poke my head into the Hangar, admire the renovation, and say hi to whoever was in the office downtown.  It’s that kind of place.  It stays with you. I’ve directed god-knows how many productions at this point in my life, professionally and at colleges, but the ones I did at the Hangar stay with me. I remember the people I met there.  It changes you.  It had a huge influence on me as a young artist, and continues to do so now that I’m no longer that young of an artist.

You bet your ass I wanted that job.

The 2016 season, which out-going Artistic Director Jen Waldman had already chosen, is glorious.

In Istanbul, I found out I would be granted an interview. Two days later, over Skype, from Bulgaria, said interview occurred by the Search Committee (comprised of Margaret, a few other board members and Managing Director Josh Friedman).    Luckily, I had been a finalist to be the Artistic Director of a LORT theater a few months before, so I could anticipate many of the questions that would be asked.  

Here are some of them:

1. What kind of artists do you like to work with?
2. What role do you think the Hangar should play in its community?
3. Describe your leadership style.
4. Which plays would you want to direct and how would you market the season?

1. What kind of artists do you like to work with?

An Upstarts Event.

I answered this question with the criteria I use to determine whether or not I’m going to ask someone to join my NYC-theater company, The Upstart Creatures.  Every other month, the Upstarts present a reading of a socio-politically relevant play and prepare a four-course meal to accompany the piece.  And the whole thing is free. We don’t get paid to rehearse, we don’t get paid to cook. And we pride ourselves on presenting top-caliber readings and delicious food. 

The criteria I use is: brilliant, hard-working, and kind.  Brilliant is a must. We work in a saturated market.  As the e-mails flooding the Hangar casting e-mail account remind me daily, the competition in our field is crushing.  That means that brilliance is the price of admission.  Next,  given the relatively challenging material our company is drawn to (one of our criteria for the plays we pick: if you can see it on Broadway, we don’t need to do it), the only way to present a reading of the caliber that will make us proud is by using hard-working actors who are willing to work on the material outside of the 4-hour rehearsal we schedule, the way any director worth their salt needs 10 hours of prep to knock a reading out of the ballpark.  Finally, when you’re in a kitchen with 75 people waiting to be fed and not a dish is ready, you better believe you want the people around you to be kind.  Just like, when you’re in the last hour of a ten-out-of-twelve and a prop breaks and a costume tears and a scene that we never quite got in the rehearsal room feels even worse on stage, if the people you’re working with aren’t kind, you will never find your way to a solution. Also, why not be kind? You’ll live longer.

2.                What role do you think the Hangar should play in its community?

I’ve always loved the idea of a regional theater being not just a place to go to see plays, but where the people of the community spend real time. That’s how I answered the second question.  To use my husband’s business talk, what’s the added value that an audience member gets with their ticket value?

3.                Describe your leadership style.

Like most interesting things, leadership style is difficult to describe, but I tried nonetheless.  As a director, my favorite response to a question has become, “I don’t know.”  In my 20s, this was incredibly difficult for me to say – as a young director, and a young artist, and a young person, I wanted to know. I felt like I needed to know.  And the worst kind of collaborators make you feel bad for not knowing.  But as I matured into my 30s, I found the joy in not knowing.  That a director can do all the prep, all the research, know the script intimately, and still allow themselves to be surprised in rehearsals. It took me 15 years to begin to make sense of what JoAnne Akalaitis had been screaming at me for three years at Juilliard.

4.                Which plays would you want to direct and how would you market the season?

Finally, there was the season itself.  I felt anxiety from the board about this – would I be interested in producing a season I hadn’t chosen?  Maybe, with a different season, the answer would’ve been different.  But (and this will be one of the many places I will thank Outgoing Artistic Director Jen Waldman), I loved this season. I was wild about this season.   Running the Upstarts, I had learned that I needed to be as excited about a play I was producing as I needed to be about a play I was directing. That’s not a low bar.  The Hangar 2016 season, however, made this easy for me.

12 Portions of Pasta, made by the Upstart Creatures.

I Loved, I Lost, I Made Spaghetti is a one-woman show about a woman making Italian food that she serves to the audience while discussing the rollercoaster ride of her love life and her romantic escapades.  I assured the board that I was the only director they’d interviewed who had made pasta, from scratch, for 75 people (for the Upstarts reading of You Are (If You Think You Are) by Pirandello, directed by Suzanne Agins).  Food + theater is my jam, so to speak.  

In The Heights is possibly the second-best musical ever written, (after Hamilton), also written by Lin-Manuel Miranda.  This is a musical about New York City (where I’ve lived for 20 years), about immigrants (I am an immigrant to this country, having moved from Israel when I was 6), and about the American Dream (hello, my life).  When I think about what’s happening in this country right now, a musical with this kind of diversity feels important, the way art needs to be important.

Constellations is a stunning two-hander about love and possibility that was part of MTC’s Sloan Project.  Two years ago, I received a Sloan Grant to write a play about the Ancient Roman scientist/philosopher Lucretius and his stunning epic treatise on physics and love and the world, De Rerum Natura. This is a smart play. This is a play that would need a really smart director. I knew who I wanted to direct this play immediately, and that made me very excited about producing it.

And Third, the last play written by Wendy Wasserstein.  Well, let’s just say that since Wendy passed away ten years ago (actually, nine years and eleven months, but who’s counting?), I feel like she’s been up there, looking down, helping me out when she can. This was one of those times.

Eddie Boroevich and Kathryn Grody in our original production of Third at Theater J.

I worked as Wendy’s typist for the last five years of her life. I was having dinner with Wendy when she met the wrestler who inspired this story. I directed the premiere of this play in Washington, D.C. when it was just a 60-minute two-hander. I sat in the walk-in closet with Wendy, late at night with Lucy sleeping in the main room, as she read to me the pages she had just scribbled that introduced the third character.  After a successful run in D.C., I developed the piece with Wendy into a full-length play.  I can say, with some confidence, that I know that play better than anyone else alive right now.

So, yeah, I could produce this season.

I talked about how I would market each play (I thought I’d flubbed this one horribly, but later Margaret told me I hadn’t, which was nice).  There were other questions – about time commitments, about the Lab Company (I’m going to devote another post in its entirety about the lab company because I’m so psyched about it), about Ithaca.  I flubbed  a few. I made some jokes, which luckily the wi-fi connection was strong enough to convey with some kind of authenticity over Skype. A few days later, back in the states, I was invited to chat with Adam Zonder, the production manager at the Hangar.

The one and only Adam Zonder

Adam has been at the Hangar for twenty years.  He is the institution’s living memory.  He can recite the budget and schedule for the summer with the kind of confidence and knowledge that I find somewhere between impressive and intimidating. As one board member joked with me later, “Just do what Adam says and you’ll be fine.”

Adam was the Production Manager both summers I had spent at the Hangar in the early ‘00s. Luckily, he didn’t hold the way I behaved then (I was young, alright!) against me. In his perfectly frank, undecorated way, he told me what was possible this summer and what wasn’t.  He told me what had worked in the past and what hadn’t.

It is easy, when you’ve never run a theater before, to be seduced by the trust and the power and the responsibility of the job. Adam was sobering without dampening my enthusiasm. He made the job real.

The one and only Josh Friedman

The next day I had an even longer meeting with the Managing Director, Josh Friedman.   Josh and I talked effortlessly – it has already turned out to be both a blessing and a curse, how easily (and much) he and I like to talk. But that meeting wasn’t an interview. It was a conversation, and it harkened back to a piece of advice my Vassar College directing mentor (and now good friend) Chris Grabowksi gave me when I was chubby and closeted and interviewing with Michael Kahn, JoAnne Akalaitis and Garland Wright for Juilliard: make it into a dialogue. You’re going to be spending a lot of time with these people. See how easy that time can be, while still conveying what you need to get across.  

And most of all (and I know it’s become so clichéd it’s almost not worth repeating) but be yourself. The weirder you are, the more important this is. There would be no point in me putting on a three-piece suit and presenting myself to the Board as an experienced administrator. If that’s who they wanted for this job, they wouldn’t have given me an interview. And if I managed to fool them and get the job by presenting myself that way, what a bore to have to be that.

Know who you are and sell that. I am a man-child. I am weird and funny and make jokes about my weight (I’m passing on carbs these days so that I don’t return from Mexico Jabba-sized) and my hair (I don’t wear it - it wears me). At the same time, I started and am still running a successful New York theater company, but our operating budget is in the mid-four digits. I have supported myself as a freelance director, sans trust fund, sans day job, sans inheritance, sans any of those things.  I know what makes a play good, and a good play. Twenty years in New York has given me access to an incredible network of artists. I will have lots to learn about how to run a theater. I will make mistakes. I will give it everything. I will be as a brilliant, hard-working and kind as I possibly can. If that’s who you want, give me the job.

Apparently, that’s who they wanted. I got the job the next day.

Original Sin, Mrs. Huxtable and Gay Marriage

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Awful Goodness

A Blog by Michael Barakiva

Post #1 - 17 December 2012

Three Amazing Things In My Life

I have a wonderful weird life full of awful goodness, living in New York City as a freelance theater director and writer.  Three amazing things inspired me to start blogging.  The first is that on May 24^th, 2011, Rafael Ascencio accepted my marriage proposal.  This is a picture of us that I like, because I think we both look amphibious. 

Me getting married is the result of a series of deeply unlikely personal and political events.  I'm not going to write about my relationship with Rafael, however – I’m pretty private in that regard, and he's very, and I'd be rather appalled by the idea of having strangers read about the fights we get into when one of us (me) insists that the other (him) not use the cutting board reserved for fruit to chop onions and garlic.

(Although honestly, I don’t see what’s so hard to understand about this –the oil from onions and garlic infuses wood, and although that can be lovely in a salad [many cookbooks encourage their readers to rub a garlic clove into a wood salad bowl], the last thing I want for my freshly cut strawberries is to have a savory undertone.  So why, after three years of begging through gritted teeth, does he still do this?)

I am, however, deeply interested in writing about the process of getting married, and gay married especially: figuring out what the ritual means unto itself, as well as what it means to be gay and getting married now, the process of re-creating its ceremonies, and also how to navigate oneself through the incredibly heinous industry that is the wedding machine.  Hopefully, the things I learn might help other gays and straights alike, because really we’re not that different.  Most of the time.  I think.

Original Sin

Second, I’ve undertaken a huge project: a first for me, in terms of scope.  Over the course of the next few months, a group of actors and I are going to adapt John Milton’s Paradise Lost for the stage.  I’m calling our project Original Sin.

This is the text I'm using.  I like it because the footnotes are at the bottom of the page, rather than at the end, the way they are with most scholarly editions.  If you buy it from this link, I make something like fifteen cents!

 

http://amzn.to/12wSQUg

Here's a list of the actors who’ve come so far.  They’re an amazing bunch, ranging from recent grads of Bard College (I directed Charles Ludlam's Stage Blood up there last year) to true New Yorkers who’ve been in the biz longer than – well, a helluva long time, and have the chops and scars to show for it:

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Franca Sofia Barchiesi

Michelle Beck

Paul Bernardo

Kersti Bryan

Lauren Coppola

Stephen Bel Davies

Mark Curtis Ferrando

Lindsey Gates

Erick Gonzalez

Jake Green

Morgan Green

Broughton Hansen

Kelly Hutchinson

Maggie Lacey
Linda Larson

Phil Mills

Rahaleh Nassri

David Scotchford

Roya Shanks

Eric Sutton

Madeline Wise

We’re meeting twice a month, and at a book/session, we’re planning on getting through the entire thing by April.  The impetus for this project was deeply instinctual: I felt a deep urge to work on something big, something without living rooms or couches or doors, something epic with a lot of actors.  And I wanted to create a project large enough that I could invite any of the many artists I know and love in the city.  

Before I meet with the Original Sin company, I trim the book down and assign lines to characters, then we get into a room, work through the text slowly asking amazing questions along the way like:

Can Angels die?   

What is evil?  

 If God is omnipotent, can he create something he can’t destroy?  

 What the hell does this passage mean?   

Does anyone have anything to eat?

 Then we read the whole thing straight through.  In early May, we’re planning on presenting a day-long concert read of our final text with two meal breaks, with food prepared by moi.

Preparing a table for Mrs. Huxtable

Which leads me to the third thing I want to write about: food.  I love food.  I love eating food.  And I love making food.  I don’t have many loving instincts, but I feel a deep, primal, uncontrollable urge to feed the people I care about.  Having grown up in my mom’s Armenian kitchen, cooking has been always been an integral part of the landscape of my life.  And having exquisite taste in food and living on a bohemian budget, I knew I needed to develop mad culinary skills to be able to eat the way I wanted.  It wasn’t until I started going out of town to direct plays, however, that I began cooking on my own frenzied earnest, finding it to be the perfect and least self-destructive way to wind down from a day’s rehearsal in a town full of temptations where I didn’t know anybody.

Last week, I had Matthew LeBaron and Lee Smith, two friends from my gay soccer team (The Ramblers), along with my friend Eric Sutton (a thank-you, since he’s doing the graphic design for the wedding stuff) and his boyfriend Eirikur (prounded Eric-er - he’s Icelandic, so stop snickering at his name and the coincidence of their dating).  It was one of my best dinner parties, I think.  The menu (I'm including some of the recipes at the end, because I haven't figured out yet how to do that fancy thing where you click on it and it takes you to the thing):

First Course – Amuse Bouche

Rafa’s Guac w/pomegranate seeds

Second Course - Appetizer

Quinoa w/curried lentils and onions and carrots

(I don’t really have a recipe for this – basically rinse and make the quinoa as the box tells you.  Then use any lentil recipe you like – just find one online.  The important thing with lentils, as well as any legumes, is not to put the salt in early.  This prevents the legume from cooking.  Put the salt in at the end.  And don't overcook them or they get mushy.  And use french lentils, for gods sake - they're barely more expensive and infinitely more delicious. )

Third Course – Salad/Vegetable

Shaved Brussels sprouts salad with chestnuts and currants soaked in reduced apple cider vinegar

Fourth Course - Entree

Bouillabaisse  (I used monk, halibut, flounder, mussels and clams, along with another fish I forget) served with hand-rubbed garlic crostini. 

I’m not going to post this recipe either because it came straight from Julia Child’s incomparable Mastering the Art of French Cooking.  Buy it from Amazon now and I make money!

 

http://amzn.to/VNpE5G 

Fifth Course - Dessert

Stilton Blue Cheesecake with rhubarb/port compote reduction. 

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Because I am selfish, I almost didn’t include the link to this recipe, which I pretty much followed exactly, except I put the compote on top of the cake and skipped the blow-torching/caramelizing part.  It’s so freakin’ delicious, so easy to make, and such a novelty piece that your guests will be talking about for weeks.  Mine still are, I’m sure.  But ultimately, my altruistic spirit won out and I’m sharing it with you.

http://www.epicurious.com/recipes/food/views/Stilton-Cheesecake-with-Rhubarb-Compote-103409 

 I know it sounds whack, but the combination of Stilton’s funkiness with the batter’s sweetness and creaminess and the rhubarb’s acidity and the port’s complexity creates an orchestra of deliciousness in your mouth. 

I forgot to take pictures, but I’ll try to remember next time.

And, as if that wasn’t cool enough, the next day, John Iacovelli (dear friend, collaborator and set designer extraordinaire) stopped by impromptu with Phylicia Rashad (John’s doing the set for her production of August Wilson's JOE TURNER’S COME AND GONE at the Taper in LA)

https://www.centertheatregroup.org/tickets/2013/Joe-Turners-Come-and-Gone/).   

 

 

Luckily, I had bouillabaisse and cheesecake leftover, and was happy to serve them.  If you’re of my generation, you’ll understand how thrilling it was to cook for Mrs. Huxtable.

 

Some people recommend trying to blog daily, but honestly, that idea makes me want to kill myself, so I’m going to aim for weekly and see what happens.  I imagine that the posts will reflect whatever I’m working on at the time (I have a book coming out with FSG at Macmillan next year, I’m working on another book, a post-apocalyptic sci-fi fantasy thing with Rosemary Andress and Suzanne Agins, I’m going to be doing some teaching at NTI next semester), so stay tuned to info on those as well as the recipes for the tofu scramble I made for myself this morning and the brown rice pasta/vodka sauce/kale thing I made for lunch.

 

Thanks for reading and see you soon!

Michael Barakiva

 

This Post's recipes:

 

 

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RAFA’S POMEGRANETE GUAC RECIPE

GUACAMOLE CON GRANADA

“POM GUAC”
Adapted from a traditional recipe by Chef Barbara Sibley

Ingredients

6 fully ripened Mexican Hass avocados, halved, pitted, peeled and diced
1 cup cherry tomatoes, halved
¾ cup finely chopped white onion
½ cup finely chopped cilantro
2 tablespoons fresh lemon juice  

2 fresh serrano chiles, seeded & minced (can also be slightly roasted for a fire-roast flavor) [MB1]

1 teaspoon salt
1/4 teaspoon ground black pepper [MB2] 

Seeds from one large pomegranate[MB3] 

In a medium bowl or mortar, combine avocados, serrano chiles, onion, salt and pepper using a large fork. Do not mash avocados completely, for a chunkier feel[MB4] . Add ¾ cup of the cherry tomatoes, cilantro (leaving a tablespoon aside for decoration), lime juice and half of the pomegranate arils and mix again. Toss the rest of the tomatoes and clilantro with the remaining pomegranate arils on top, finish with a few drops of lime and serve immediately with baked tortilla chips.

For a spicier guacamole, add some of the serrano chile seeds or 1 more serrano chile, seeded.

YIELD: about 6 cups

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 [MB1]Make sure to wear gloves while you’re working with spicy chiles.  I have accidentally touched my eyes or nose or other parts after working with them bare, and the searing sensation as the chile oil penetrates your orifice is anything but pleasant.

 [MB2]Fresh, for god’s sake.  If you don’t own a pepper mill you shouldn’t be cooking.

 [MB3]If you can buy seeds without having to de-seed the pom yourself, do it.  I love me a pomegranate, but who has the time to de-seed one of those mofos?

 [MB4]This is important.  

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Sliced Brussels Sprouts Salad with Chestnuts and Currants

3/4 cup apple cider
3/4 cup dried currants
1 1/2 to 2 pounds brussels sprouts, trimmed
4 tablespoons olive oil (approx)
7- to 8-ounces  whole peeled chestnuts, chopped into 1/2-inch pieces

Bring cider to boil in saucepan. Add currants[MB1]  and remove from heat.  Let them soak while you assemble the rest of the dish.  Using a food processor fitted with the slicing disk , slice brussels sprouts.  Of course if you don’t have one of these you can slice by hand, but I highly recommend using the good ol’ food processor to do it.

 

Heat 2 tablespoons oil in large deep heavy skillet over medium-high heat until glistening but not smoking. Add chestnuts and sauté 2 minutes. Using slotted spoon, transfer to bowl. Add remaining 2 tablespoons oil and brussels sprouts to skillet; sauté 3 minutes. Stir chestnuts back in and currant mixture; sauté until heated through, about 2 minutes. Season with salt and pepper to taste. Transfer to a wood bowl and let everyone serve themselves.

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 [MB1]These are used a lot in Armenian cooking.  They’re like raisins, but fancier.