Letter to i8

It's been awhile since I posted. There's a lot to say, but I never found the time to get it all down in writing. However, Cornerstone has a tradition of each class writing a letter to the next year's class. We read all of Institute 6 (i6)'s letters at the beginning of each class we had, and today on our last full day we had the task of writing our letters for i8. Hopefully this will give you an idea of some of what I've experienced here. The writing isn't amazing, but hey...I'm exhausted. So here it is:

Dear I8 Students,

In an attempt to procrastinate writing this letter, I just ate a couple of those Dove dark chocolate squares that come with the “inspirational messages” on the inside wrapper. Both of them said, “never stop learning.” Funnily enough, this is exactly what can sum up my experience and anything I can offer you.

I came to the institute looking for inspiration. I’ve just finished a whirlwind first year in my MFA dramaturgy program, struggling to find a way to balance my desire to engage in high quality artistic productions and in meaningful work. During the institute, I realized that I actually had to define what “meaningful work” means to me. I was feeling selfish and guilty for not doing more to help others, and not working on productions that dealt with social issues in an activist way. The activist-artist inside of me did not know what kind of balance was needed.

But in the spirit of never stopping learning, I gradually began to rediscover what brings me joy in theatre and redefine meaningful work for myself. Early on I realized that as much as I wanted to write all of my thoughts down, talk to family and friends, the processing time was going to have to come later. The days are long, but something I felt one day could change completely two days later. Don’t be hard on yourself like I was for a while if you don’t have time to journal or process. Whether you know it or not, you are processing, and each activity or class somehow pushes you into a new place or catalyzes thoughts. I know it’s going to be hard to leave Pacoima and the I7 family tomorrow, but I’m excited to fully reflect and process everything I learned about community based theatre and myself.

Okay, I promised myself I wouldn’t make this a general advicey letter and it has become one. Now that you have an idea of where I was coming from and my mindset here in Pacoima, let me provide a few examples.

I was really excited about my production assignment as one of the assistant directors. I was prepared for it to be a mainly observational role, but gradually I got to do more of what I love and work with the actors. We had to cast the role of the Vendor a little late in the process, and our director Juliette paired me up with her so she could catch up. Karen is only a few years younger than me at 21, and we have led very different lives, but share similar life philosophies and I liked her instantly. We were both always excited when we got to work together if Juliette was busy with something else. One day while helping Karen learn her lines I tried to explain a way for her to remember the order of them, saying, “It’s like you go from talking about the metaphor, back to reality, and then back to the metaphor.” I talked about this a little more, and finally Karen said, “What’s a metaphor?”

It was a very real reminder of the abstract notion I have always known about the inequality of education in this country. Karen is smart and talented. Her comment says nothing about her intelligence and everything about the environment she was raised in. The more I got to know Karen the more I wanted to help her with her dreams. I knew she had done work with another community-based theatre group, the Unusual Suspects, and that she wants to become an actress, has the talent, but the lacks the training. When I brought up options in the area, everything seemed to be met with something I couldn’t solve: classes in LA need a car to get to that she doesn’t have, they cost money, etc. But after more conversations I realized the even greater problem: Karen has incredibly low self-confidence despite her warm heart and amazing theatrical instincts.

It dawned on me that sometimes one form of being an activist-artist can be as small as touching someone’s life or providing genuine encouragement and faith. When Karen and I discussed her desire to be an actress and her difficulty accessing further training, I was touched by her response. She said, “Yeah, but I feel like I learn a lot from these types of experiences, and they help me.” Not only is she right, but she has the right attitude.

My new definition of activist-artist was reaffirmed during our opening night ritual. As different community cast members talked about their favorite lines or moments in the show and how they spoke to them, they often talked about how much they loved being with everyone, meeting people from different backgrounds within their own community, and how great it was to have so much diversity and so much warmth in this production community. I was glad to be wearing sunglasses since I teared up many times. We didn’t solve Pacoima’s gang problems by putting on a play there. But that isn’t what we were there to do. What we did was form new friendships and bonds that have touched both the community members’ lives and our own, and created a play we could be proud of together.

I hope your institute experience brings you whatever you need it to bring.

Love,
Sara Bookin-Weiner