My Own Petard
Dunkirk NY – The universe will play some pretty interesting tricks on you every once in a while, tricks that make you sit up, pay attention, and ponder. I learned this today by laying down my scooter on a back road out near my getaway cabin. I had deemed today my “mental health” day after having closed La Bohème, but it appears the cosmos had additional plans for my mental and psychic health.
I was primed for a scooter ride to day despite the cloudy conditions and upper-40s temperature. As long as it wasn’t raining, I thought, I’d be OK. My plan was breakfast in my favorite little roadside restaurant, then up to the cabin for some radio listening and reading, back to school for the one class I had, and then perhaps back to the cabin for a few hours and home shortly after dark (which now comes about 5:30 PM). I finished breakfast, and headed up to the cabin.
The Treehouse
The road the cabin is on is a dirt road, hard-packed when dry. As I tried to make the right-hand turn onto the road from the paved surface, I either hit the front brake a bit too hard, or I hit some loose gravel or dirt and had come too close to the shoulder in making the turn. Either way, the result was the back tire skidding out to my left, and me and the bike falling to the right. From the point of view of the actual fall, going to the right was good because I was falling away from the road, but it was bad because I got my right leg pinned under the muffler, which was a little hot. It all happened in a flash, and before I was even fully aware that something had happened, it was over. No reaction time was given me to avoid laying the bike down.
I managed to pull my leg out from under the bike quickly enough so as to avoid getting burned. A quick check seemed to indicate I hadn’t broken anything. I had on my full-face helment and armor-padded riding jacket, so no harm to the right shoulder. My jeans did not tear, but my right knee did get torn up a bit, and my right ankle is slightly banged up. I picked the bike up from the road, and the biggest damage was to the right front turn signal, which was hanging loose from the front fairing. I got the bike started again, hopped on, and took the short 1/4 mile ride to the cabin. There I proceeded to patch my knee up with bandages. All in all, a lucky-enough fall; dings and brusies, but nothing broken. Nothing but a little pride.
Now the reason this is all so cosmic is because of a conversation I had with a student in acting class. She’s a very bright young lady who takes in everything and has a very adventurous spirit, but her acting tends to be a bit surface because she does not risk going to more dangerous acting depths in her work. I’ve been trying to get her to see that the most powerful theatrical work has to have an element of danger in it, a whiff of death. She also likes riding motorcycles, so I asked her if, when she gets on a motorcycle, does she ever think about its inherent dangers and the possibility that she may die during that ride. She admitted she did not. I told her that every time I get on my scooter I first remind myself of the inherent danger I am placing myself in; completely exposed to the possibility of a lethal accident with nothing but an armoured jacket as protection. I told her that, in order to improve her acting, she needed that element of lethal danger emotionally and physically in her work. I left her to ponder the matter.
I saw her again Saturday night after seeing Fuddy Meers, and she told me that earlier that day, she was out riding on the back of her boyfriend’s motorcycle when they had their own accident. They were coming down a hill and the bike caught a small lip where a bridge met the road, and down the both of them went. She came away with a few scrapes on her hand because she mostly ended up on her boyfriend’s back as he skidded along the pavement. Neither of them were seriously hurt. But she did say she now understood a bit more what I meant after class.
I was pretty fascinated by the fact that just after we had that conversation she got into her accident, she told me about it, and now I’ve gotten into mine. I believe I’ve been hoisted on my own petard. It causes me to think and wonder again about this world in which we live and this art we practice. A small metaphor about acting all of a sudden becomes reality for both student and teacher. How close is that borderline between art and life, and how much life does one need to create art? How much death?
An old and dear friend of mine, Jim Trenberth, who is the Production Manager and Lighting Designer at Iowa State in Ames IA (and who occasionally comments on this blog), has this quote at the bottom of his email signature:
The way to capture a student’s attention is with a demonstration where there is a possibility the teacher will die. Jewel Walker
Perhaps the universe is telling me I have to dig a little deeper into the depths of my own teaching, and begin to find ways to bring that whiff of death into my teaching style. And maybe not be so glib. Thanks for the tip, Jim. -twl
