An interview with Adrienne

Hey all,

FringeArts did a nice little interview with me a while back about my current thoughts on art, projects in the Swim Pony mix and my hopes for sustainability over the long term of a long term career.

If you’re interested in reading (and seeing me sitting backwards in that omnipresent chair) check it out by clicking this picture:



– A


So I’ve been reading the many articles that have been appearing on HowlRound recently about women directors

First this one

Then this one

And finally this one

All of these to some degree are about the language we use as female directors in our rehearsal rooms.  I’ve been thinking, brewing, about this for a few days now. Thinking about my own rehearsals as a female director. Of my responses to the article and responses to the responses, and then if humanly possible my response to the response’s response.  I’ve been formulating my own opinions about how I feel in response to these articles. And it occurs to me this afternoon that to explain my feelings about how to talk about language, I need to first talk not about words but about voice.

This semester I have a student named Maranda who has the most amazing voice.

Her sound is generally placed pretty low in her chest. It’s not raspy or throaty but it’s lower and further back than the typical standard of placement for most American speakers. I should probably mention she is Jamaican and sports a relatively thick Patois accent, too.

She is usually one of the first to arrive so on the days I teach at her school, I watch students walk into the black box for voice class and greet her sitting in the second row of the seating area.

“Hello, Ma-RAAAN-dah,” most of them say.

“Hello,” she says back and smiles. 

So far this semester I’ve led Maranda and her classmates in exercises on playing resonance in different parts of the body, in articulation exercises, and projection. I’ve tried to give them skills to open up access to all the sounds their voices are capable of.

One of the first realizations to come in my class is there is no such thing as a person’s “voice” in the singular sense. Around week 3 my students always begin to write about their voices in plural. They talk about how their sounds change over a range of different contexts and in relation to different people. The voice they use for a boss or teacher is quite different than the one they might employ for their friends, entirely different from the one they use with their parents, and different still than one for performance. These voices, they are begin to realize, are not the same. Consciously or not they are employing different sounds to try and achieve a different relationship with the listener.

And it is around this time that they read an article about vocal habits and explain what the author Patsy Rodenberg means when she says that habits are only a problem when they are no longer a choice. It is also around this time that I begin to hammer home a point that I will make through the rest of the course, a moral that underpins everything about the way I approach voice work: there is no such thing as a voice that is “better” than another voice. Ethically, morally, aesthetically, there are no “bad” voices.

There are simply voices that are useful in communicating and achieving what you want, and voices that aren’t.

Which means a high-pitched tiny “girly” voice can be fantastically useful in some contexts just as much as a low basso commanding one. A quiet sound just as powerful as a loud one depending on what you’re using it to do. It just depends on what you’re after.

Most of the students, to some degree, read the article and understand that the point I’m after is that your voice, your tendencies, your style is just as “good,” as long as it’s serving you to get what you want and as long as it is your choice. So when they start making sounds that at first feel funny in their bodies and mouths I say that I don’t care if they talk that way, but I do care that they have the option. When I make them stand in front of each other and speak I ask them constantly what they are trying to make the audience think and feel. The class and I collectively listen to each person and think and talk about ways we can use the voice to get us to the goal the speaker is aiming for.

Each vocal quality is a different choice that will provoke a different effect. That effect is their choice to make. I’m simply trying to give them tools to have as many ways to do that as possible.

This is what I think about when I think about the conversation regarding language and female directors. Each kind of language is a choice. Each one will elicit a different response. Each one is useful in some ways and not in others. It just depends on the tactic the particular directing is using to get to the end goal.

Can assertive language be effective? Sometimes. It can also be aggressive and off-putting.

Can accommodating language be perceived as weak? Sometimes. It can also be welcoming of a variety of perspectives and lead to an open and collaborative environment.

There are processes where I mostly ask questions. There are others where I mostly tell everyone what to do. And I don’t think the answer is picking an answer as to which is “right.” Because inevitably that “right” won’t be right for some people and some works of art. What troubles me in the task of trying to define the best type of female directing language is that it actually removes the choices that we so desperately seek to empower these female artists with. Better, I’d say, to ask whether the kind of language you use is getting you what you want. Better, perhaps, to ask if the language you use is one that you feel you own and have agency over. Better, I’d propose, to ask if your language is a habit over which you have choice.

Most recently, my voice class has been focused on an assignment where students bring in pieces of text that they have to present in front of each other. The text cannot be their own writing and this means that each of them must think about how to shift their voices to best communicate the language they have chosen to share with their audience. Last week, when Maranda went up she looked just a tiny bit nervous.

“Can I ask something first?”


“The character in my book… Do you care if I talk like a white girl?”

Everyone giggles for a second.

“You can present the text however you want to.”

And Maranda’s voice, with its resonant and lilting Jamaican accent that has charmed the class for weeks, transforms into a nasal flat Midwesterner. Close your eyes and you literally wouldn’t believe it was the same person.

Our mouths collectively hit the floor.

The next class I watch again as the students enter.

“Hello, Ma-RAAAN-dah,” they say as always. And she laughs as I tell her it’s obvious they are jealous of her sound.

And she smiles because she I can see she knows it is true. And I’d guess it’s not only because of the beautiful voice that comes naturally but also because she has the power to shape the way they hear her. She could sound a different way if she wanted to. She can be those other kinds of voices when she chooses. She can go to all the places my exercises ask her to. But when she finishes, she doesn’t stay in those other sounds.

She goes back to the accent.

Because she has the choice.

– A

Interview (again): This time in a laundromat

Hey there.


We’re doing this again? An interview with yourself?

Yep. I’m stuck for the next 45 minutes and need something to do. So here we are.

So what’s going on?

Well, I’m sitting in a laundromat washing spandex.

Umm… Dare I ask?

It’s for auditions tomorrow. I’ll be directing The Tempest for Shakespeare in Clark Park with Catharine Slusar as Prospero and Catherine Palfinier as Caliban. It’s the first time in a while I’ve directed for any entity other than my own. I’m excited and a little nervous.

So what’s with the spandex?

Well, during Lady M I had a lot of ideas about the witches materializing out of the set. A human body pushed into stretchy fabric creates an interesting shape – something clearly human but smoothed out. Like a neutral mask for the whole body.

In the first iteration of the show we didn’t really get to implement a lot of the experiments we explored in rehearsals. When thinking about Tempest I was interested in stage elements that felt genuinely magical. I really liked the idea that Ariel, the spirit imprisoned by Prospero, could appear and disappear magically by using this material in the set design.

Sounds fun.

Yeah. I’m pretty psyched actually about getting to come back to a previous idea I didn’t get to take to its fullest vision.

So, I have to ask. You wrote before about being really freaked about the audition culling process. How’d it go?

I know I had a lot of apprehension. I still don’t know how I feel about the cold call submission thing, but I have to say, there were some pretty amazing people that showed up for the first round. I’m psyched to see the folks that are coming to this next one.

So maybe auditions aren’t so bad?

Maybe. I always wish there was more time. And it reminds me how much scheduling sucks. But on the whole, yeah, it’s been awesome to see all the talented folks that I had no idea lived in this city. It’s a little humbling in a way.

How do you mean?

It’s easy as one starts to transition out of newbie status (oh the eternal emerging artist) to feel like you know everything that’s out there. It’s nice to remember that the landscape of the arts community is always growing and changing. That once I was part of that new groundswell and less than a decade later there’s a whole new “generation” of artists to discover.

So I get why you’re using the spandex. Why are you washing it?

Swim Pony bought all this spandex for SURVIVE! We turned a dirty basement into this:

green hub

(Thanks JJ Tiziou for the photo

Those light up walls? A million miles of spandex. Since then it’s been sitting in my basement. It’s not nice to make people roll around in smelly fabric.

And there’s no one else to wash it?

It’s a glamorous life I lead.

So what are you looking for from the people that come in?

Hmmm. I don’t know exactly how to answer that. It’s the funny thing about collaborators, if you knew exactly what you wanted you’d just go out and get it, right? But sometimes you just meet someone and you know that they have some quality that inspires or challenges you in a way that you need.

So when I think about what I’m looking for, I want to create some space for people to be as much of themselves as possible. To bring in whatever of themselves they are most excited to show. The rest will be the chemistry of how I do what I do with how they do the same.

Anything else?

Nope. The fabric is done and I need to go take it out of the dryer.