However, you can now see the video from our San Francisco Friday night (June 10) performance here. The first seven minutes or so are just recording our set-up; the performance starts at about 7:30 so you may want to click to start there.

And if you’d like to hear us talk about the process a bit, you can listen in on our talkback from the same night. We start around 10:30, following the talkback for Outlook’s performance.

Many thanks to High Concept Labs in Chicago for hosting our workshop production a couple of weeks ago, and to FoolsFURY Theatre in San Francisco for hosting us at the FURY Factory Festival of Ensemble Theatre this past week. We’ve had a wonderful time.

- michelle

- michelle

Many thanks to Lindsay for capturing some footage of our basic bee movement vocabulary and posting it to youtube. Lindsay and I are creating movement, and Ben will be taking some of it on when we get to San Francisco, so this is a way we can start to share what we’re coming up with. In the video, I just go through some of the basics: some walks, flying options, and (at the very end) a “sting” gesture. I also go through modifications of several of them showing what might happen when the bees are sick, confused, or otherwise struggling in some way. (Note to Ben: Feel free to come up with other movements and post them so we can see!)

We also have a lot of other movement we’ve been developing, primarily for Claire – some of it based on the bee movements, and others based on cooking, writing, emailing, texting, gardening, tasting, etc. If we get a chance maybe we can post some of that – but only if we can find a less complicated way to do it. If anyone out there has suggestions of easy ways to get video from an iphone to youtube, we’d love to hear it!

**(You can also hear some of Josh’s fabulous music in this video as well.  Enjoy!)**

- michelle

I realize this doesn’t quite work with Claire greeting the audience at the top of the show, but wonder if perhaps it makes more sense for the other character to be the greeter, so that the audience is more connected to the hive, rather than Claire?

• I got one 6: “they communicate!”
• Two 2s: They try to communicate but do not understand each other
• and six 5s: they try to communicate but it doesn’t work out exactly how they want

A funny mix ensues. I set it the morning after a “sting” scene that I sent Michelle last night. Now I have to go make dinner!

A Simple Story about Learning to Communicate

(5) In the morning, Claire sits at her computer, pecking away at her latest blog entry. The bee circles her head three times and then lands on her nose. Claire looks at the small insect.

(5) “I’m still sore from where you stung me last night.”

The bee rears back with her stinger at the ready.

Claire flails her hand  for protection. “I not going to hurt you! I just don’t want to get stung again. It hurt.”

(2) “Buzz,” says the bee.

“Huh?” says Claire.

Neither of them understand. The previous night they were talking like members of the same species, but now they are separated as they were before–different creatures.

(5) “Last night you told me off,” says Claire, “and it stung. People usually don’t speak to me that directly. Really, people don’t speak to me much at all because I don’t really let them.”

“It’s so clear from my vantage point what’s eating you,” says the Bee. “If you had told us about your problems when they happened we could have been the ones to help and you wouldn’t have felt so abandoned.”

But neither of them understands the other.

(6) “This is frustrating,” says Claire.

“I know,” agrees the Bee.

They look at each other. At the same time they utter the same thought, “can you understand me now?”

“Yes” they say.

(5) “Can I show you something?” asked the Bee. She began to dance.

“I don’t get it,” said Claire. “What’s so special about you waggling your butt around?”

“What’s a butt?” asks the bee.

“Um. A thorax?”

The bee waggled some more, but this only made Claire more perplexed.

(2) The bee points Claire toward the direction of her former hive. From the computer in the apartment, the bearing is a hair’s breadth to the East of North by North East. Claire thinks the bee is pointing toward the refrigerator, so she gets out a strawberry. The bee shakes her wings, wishing that human language had fewer subtle tripping points.

(5) “I wouldn’t have guessed it,” says Claire, “but you stinging me shook me out of what could have been a bad fight. I always fight with my mom. Instead I fought with you, and now we’re talking about it.”

“Now that you know,” says the Bee, “I have some mega-big plans for you.”

But Claire doesn’t hear. She’s too busy humming to herself and eating the strawberry.

There are some obvious challenges, such as working with collaborators at a distance (lots of phone tag, some missed communication, minimal opportunities to read body language as we create together, not everyone knows each other…) and the fact that we’re creating something together, from nothing, as a group (Who makes final decisions? How do we find our way through all the layers to land on the movement, words, story, and ideas we can all agree on? Who leads rehearsals? Who writes? Who edits? How do we bring all the wonderful and complex voices that are at the table into one cohesive performance?). Not to mention the fact that we are taking this show on the road and won’t have the actual space, objects, or even all the people until about one week prior to performance.

Here are some other challenges that I’d like to acknowledge:

- Working with busy people. This means that at any one time, at least one of us probably isn’t available. It means we each have split focus – thinking about multiple projects, our day jobs, travel, and how we’re going to pay the bills. Sometimes it’s hard not to bring that into the room. It means that we play phone tag for weeks. It means that emails get overlooked. It means that we often show up to rehearsal exhausted, and are often leaving at 9 or 10 at night only to be headed to other commitments. It means that there are many temptations to cancel rehearsals, because one or more of us have overscheduled. It means that there is very little wiggle room on schedules in general. Sometimes we have to rehearse during the only 3 hours we can find that we all have free in a 3-4 day period. And if someone’s schedule changes, or a problem arises with the space, there isn’t much we can do to shift our rehearsal schedule to accommodate. So then we have to make choices about which schedule or project takes precedence. Or we have to spend a good portion of our small amount of time together scheduling, rescheduling, adjusting, discussing.

- Having no money. This means we are all working for free (which contributes to some of the above issues), and even in some cases paying to do the work. It means it’s hard for me to brainstorm design ideas without becoming overwhelmed with the back of my mind subtracting the costs from my personal savings account and wondering what will be left. It means that we are limited to free or cheap space – which we are lucky to have, but we are also at the mercy of the limitations of those spaces (flooring, lighting, presence or lack of piano, availability, cleanliness, accessibility…) It means that I watch the flights to California with my fingers crossed that somehow, some way, those prices will go down in the next few weeks. It means that there is a nagging question in the back of my mind that sometimes gets in the way of doing the work: Will this all be worth it?

- For me, personally: Working in a rehearsal room alone. This is something I swore up and down I would never do again. But here I am, doing it. On Thursday, I spent an hour and a half doing everything I could to avoid even entering the room, using various procrastination techniques (believe me, I have perfected these!), and then spent an hour or so getting all the junk out of my brain. I paced. I wrote and then crossed out. I stretched. I ran in circles. I collapsed on the floor with discouragement. I checked my phone for messages. I stared off into space. I got a drink of water. I doodled. I tried out some movement. I made a phone call. I did some sun salutations. I made excuses to myself. I cried. I ranted. I pouted. I cursed the rain outside. I sent a text. And then, eventually, the work started coming.

I know from past experience that this is par for the course. Rehearsing alone means scheduling time to go through resistance, irritability, a huge desire to leave, sometimes tears, sometimes boredom, creator’s block (somewhat like writer’s block), dabbling, doodling, taking multiple trips to the drinking fountain just to deal with discomfort, and inner voices saying things like, “This project sucks. Why are you doing it anyway?” and “You’re never going to be able to complete this.” And on and on. And what I have discovered is that if I let myself just take that journey (and know that I will have to schedule that time as the first hour or so of the rehearsal period), and STAY IN THE ROOM (or at least keep coming back in after trying to escape via the drinking fountain excuse), eventually something will come. Some movement. Some structure. Some words. Some connections. Painfully, but then also with relief and even sometimes with joy.

Slowly but surely, we’re going to have a piece. And I am incredibly grateful to my collaborators for going on this crazy journey with me, challenges and all. Onward.

- michelle

1. Why do we care about Claire? More importantly, why should the audience care about Claire? And how do we cultivate that?

2. We’ve talked a lot about the journey Claire goes on. What journey do we want to take the audience on?

The second question is inspired from talking to a friend of mine who is creating a solo show and he said he wants the audience to go from “here” (leaning forward) to “here” (a bit back) to “here” (more back with a perplexed look on their faces) to “here” (light dawning on their faces with a “maybe?” look) to “here” (leaning forward again). I loved his description/embodiment of it. What is the journey for our Bees audience?

- michelle