March 24th and 26th

“Use Your Brain Outside the Box.” — March 24

This session was a reminder that creativity doesn’t disappear when resources are limited — it sharpens.

After check-in, I shared an update with the ensemble: our request for costumes and the ability to film the production had been denied. There was an initial wave of disappointment — understandable, given how much care and pride this group brings to building the world of the play. But what stood out was how quickly that frustration transformed into problem-solving.

“We didn’t have costumes last year and we did amazing,” a participant reminded the group. That spirit carried us forward.

What followed was one of the most inventive design conversations we’ve had all season. The ensemble began reimagining the entire visual language of the show using what is already available to them. Newspaper became fabric. Sheets became robes. State blues became a base layer for character transformation.

“Use your brain outside the box,” an ensemble member encouraged — and the room rose to meet that challenge.

Each character started to take shape in new and unexpected ways: bold color choices, handmade accessories, layered textures, and inventive silhouettes. There was laughter, debate, and collaboration — especially as we worked through ideas for Antipholus and found ourselves navigating different comfort levels and perspectives. Even in moments of disagreement, the commitment to the collective vision remained clear.

By the end of the conversation, the energy had shifted completely. What began as a limitation became an opportunity — not just to design costumes, but to define the aesthetic of this production as something uniquely ours.

We closed the night by turning our attention to future seasons, reading through potential plays and beginning the exciting process of imagining what comes next. Even as we look ahead, the focus remains the same: building something together, with whatever tools we have, and making it meaningful.

We raised the ring and ended the night grounded in that shared purpose.

“We Can’t Go Wrong With These Choices.” — March 26

This session centered on possibility — what stories we want to tell next, and how we want to tell them.

After check-in, we dove into a conversation about the future of the program. Should we spend extended time developing a piece? Should we adapt a Shakespeare play or perform it as written? The ensemble weighed these questions thoughtfully, drawing from their own experiences to guide the discussion.

Fisher-Grant emphasized the value of working with Shakespeare’s original text — how its consistency can anchor the ensemble and keep everyone moving together. Others imagined new forms: adaptations, hip hop influences, and ways to make the work feel personal and immediate.

As we read through potential plays, the room filled with curiosity and debate. King Lear, The Winter’s Tale, and Romeo and Juliet quickly rose to the top, each offering something different: scale, magic, familiarity, challenge.

“I want to be Romeo,” one participant said, while another was drawn to the richness of roles in King Lear. Others were captivated by the blend of comedy and tragedy in The Winter’s Tale — a story of loss, forgiveness, and transformation.

The conversation moved beyond preference into strategy. What stories will resonate most? What will challenge us? What will allow new members to step in and grow? The ensemble considered not just what they wanted to perform, but why it mattered.

By the end of the night, the vote came down to two: King Lear and The Winter’s Tale. The final decision remains ahead on Tuesday, but the process itself — collaborative, thoughtful, and deeply engaged — is already shaping the future of the work.

We closed by sharing monologues, stepping briefly into these worlds and testing what it feels like to speak their language. It was playful, exploratory, and full of possibility.

We raised the ring, carrying forward not just a decision to be made, but a shared investment in whatever comes next.

March 17th and 19th

“Someone Backstage Should Knap the Slaps.” — March 17

This week, we shifted into a different kind of rehearsal — observation and analysis. Instead of working the scenes on our feet, we began watching a film adaptation of The Comedy of Errors, using it as a tool to spark ideas for our own production.

Even in a quieter session, the ensemble stayed engaged, watching closely and offering insights along the way. Small moments in the film opened up big possibilities. A simple sunglasses gag inspired conversation about how physical comedy can heighten character, while another participant suggested enhancing stage combat by reinforcing the sound of slaps from backstage. These ideas reflect how deeply the ensemble is thinking about theatricality — not just what happens, but how it lands with an audience.

We also began to notice patterns in character behavior. One observation stood out: Dromio constantly trying to exit scenes. That recurring choice sparked discussion about how we might build that same comedic urgency into our own staging.

Throughout the evening, there were thoughtful side conversations about performance choices — particularly around physical interaction and how different productions approach touch and staging. Even while watching, the ensemble remained in a creative mindset, filtering everything through the lens of our show.

We paused the film after the arrest scene, planning to finish it next session. As always, we closed in a circle, grounding the work in community before heading out.

“Use the Silence to Emphasize the Error.” — March 19

We returned to the film this session, finishing what we started and diving deeper into what we could take from it.

Before we pressed play, the group jumped into a lively conversation about next season’s show. The debate between comedy and tragedy continues, with strong opinions on both sides — a reminder of how invested this ensemble is not just in this production, but in the future of the work.

After check-in, we picked up the film and watched through to the end. What followed was one of the most detailed and dynamic discussions we’ve had about performance.

The ensemble analyzed everything: pacing, staging, character relationships, and visual composition. One participant noted how the production emphasized Antipholus’ relationship to money, while another reflected on the overall energy: “The whole time I felt energy. It was exciting. Even the silence was energized.”

That idea of energized stillness led to a powerful takeaway: “Use the silence to emphasize the error.” The group began thinking about how pauses — when used intentionally — can heighten confusion, tension, and comedy all at once.

There was also a strong focus on staging. The ensemble noticed moments where actors turned away from the audience and discussed how techniques like “cheating out” and playing in a three-quarters thrust could keep the storytelling clear. Questions about physicality emerged as well, especially around how to stage more dynamic moments safely and effectively.

The final scene sparked debate. Some loved the ending focus on the Dromios, while others questioned the length of the final pause. These differing perspectives opened up a larger conversation about rhythm — how long is too long, and when does a pause serve the story versus slow it down?

Throughout the discussion, one thing was clear: the ensemble is no longer just learning the play — they are actively directing it. They are questioning choices, offering alternatives, and imagining how to make this production their own.

We closed, as always, in the circle — carrying forward new ideas, sharper instincts, and a deeper understanding of the world we’re building together.

March 10th and 12th

“If a Part Is Difficult to Say, Cut It Out.” — March 10

This week’s rehearsal focused on refining the script and strengthening the ensemble’s approach to memorization and performance. After gathering and checking in, the group turned its attention to shaping the pacing of The Comedy of Errors by discussing potential cuts.

The conversation quickly became collaborative. While some sections seemed ripe for trimming, others sparked debate. One ensemble member strongly advocated for keeping the comedic exchanges between Antipholus and Dromio, arguing that those moments are essential to the rhythm of the play. Another participant suggested a compromise: keep the jokes and punchlines, but trim the extra lines around them to keep the pace moving.

As the ensemble continued discussing possible edits, one piece of advice stood out: “If a part is difficult to say, cut it out. Make sure the lines flow for you — you’re the one who has to say it.” The comment reflected the ensemble’s growing confidence in shaping the script so it feels natural and playable.

The conversation also turned toward performance strategies. The group explored memorization techniques, sharing the creative ways they make Shakespeare’s language their own. One ensemble member described how she uses movement to anchor her lines: “When I’m on stage I like to move. I do a movement to remember my lines. I use the stage to my advantage.” Another talked about singing lines to help remember them, joking that if you sing the text, the audience might not even notice a mistake.

The evening ended with the ensemble reflecting on the power of performance and community before closing in the circle. The work ahead is clear: continue tightening the script, deepen memorization, and prepare the show for its next run-through.

“If We Cut All the Comedy, All We Get Is Errors.” — March 12

Two days later, the ensemble gathered again to continue shaping the script and sharpening the language of the play.

We began with a quick warm-up game before returning to the script. The goal for the evening was to revisit potential cuts and clarify pronunciation throughout the text. As the group worked through edits, one participant offered a reminder that captured the spirit of the play: “If we cut all the comedy, all we get is errors.”

That observation sparked a lively discussion about balance. While trimming the script helps streamline the performance, the ensemble recognized that the humor is what makes The Comedy of Errors come alive. Fisher-Grant emphasized that making thoughtful cuts now will help preserve the most important and funniest moments when the show reaches its final shape.

The group also leaned into the physical and vocal energy of the play. As we worked through pronunciation and rhythm, participants experimented with delivery and pacing. The mantra of the evening quickly became one the group has heard often in rehearsal: “Bigger. Faster. Funnier.”

Along the way, moments of humor kept the room lively. When the group encountered the word mountebank in the text and discovered its meaning, one participant laughed and joked, “That’s what brought me here.” The laughter that followed was a reminder that even while working through Shakespeare’s complex language, joy and connection remain at the center of the process.

By the end of the session, the ensemble had worked through a large portion of the script, refining pronunciation and identifying places where the pacing could improve. With each rehearsal, the play grows sharper, clearer, and more dynamic — guided by the ensemble’s commitment to both the comedy and the craft.

March 3rd and 5th

“This Time You Got to Own Your Character.” — March 3

This week’s session was all about stepping into roles with confidence. After gathering and checking in, we moved quickly into auditions for the remaining parts in The Comedy of Errors. With most roles already filled, the focus was on giving participants the chance to explore characters and try bold choices in front of the ensemble.

One by one, participants stepped forward to audition. Some came in prepared and ready, while others battled nerves as they delivered their monologues. Still, each actor brought something unique to the room. One performance earned a roaring round of applause for the clear choices and energy behind it. Another participant joked “Good lord!” mid-monologue while navigating the complexity of Egeon’s speech, prompting laughter and supportive encouragement from the group.

Facilitator Liv Morris offered thoughtful feedback throughout, encouraging performers to stay grounded in their bodies and bring greater specificity to their choices. At one point, the group reflected on the length of a speech in the show, with a participant joking, “We need to cut that down. Even I got lost in that.” The conversation sparked a larger discussion about balancing Shakespeare’s storytelling with pacing that keeps an audience engaged.

Facilitators Sam Aupperlee, Liv Morris, and Sophia Esch also jumped into the audition round, offering readings alongside the ensemble to keep the momentum moving. The room was full of laughter when one participant delivered the Duke from behind the podium in a playful voice that completely transformed the moment.

After auditions, we checked in about how everyone felt. Some participants shared that nerves were their biggest challenge, especially when thinking about memorization. We reminded the group that while memorization is encouraged, the real goal is to deepen connection with the text and the character.

One ensemble member captured the spirit of the evening perfectly: “It was exciting the first time. This time you got to own your character.”

We closed the session with games — Gibberish Rap, Fairytale storytelling, and the Counting Game — before ending the night by raising the ring together.

“The Arrest Scene Is Big, Fast, and Funny.” — March 5

the ensemble gathered again to run through the show and start shaping the rhythm of the performance. The goal for the evening was simple: get the play on its feet and see where the story moves quickly and where it needs tightening.

We began the run right on schedule, with Sophia Esch stepping in to play the Duke. As the scenes unfolded, the ensemble’s growth was immediately visible. One participant’s work earned snaps of appreciation from another, highlighting the supportive culture that has formed within the group.

Throughout the run, the ensemble offered thoughtful observations. Some conversations centered on pacing — particularly the long storytelling speeches that set up the play’s backstory. While a few ensemble members wondered if certain sections might lose audience attention, the group ultimately recognized how important those moments are for grounding the narrative.

Meanwhile, the comedy of the play continued to shine. Several scenes crackled with energy, especially the arrest sequence. The ensemble leaned fully into the physical humor and fast pacing, creating a moment that felt electric. As we watched the scene unfold, it became clear that this section represents exactly what the show can be at its best: bold, playful, and full of life.

Actors also experimented with accents, reactions, and physical beats. Some scenes sparked conversations about blocking and timing, while others revealed just how funny Shakespeare’s chaos can be when performers commit to the absurdity.

By the end of the run, we had made it through most of the play and identified several places where small cuts could help streamline the performance. The ensemble agreed that tightening the script will help maintain momentum and keep the audience engaged.

Before closing the evening, the group voted on whether they wanted to watch a film version of the play together as part of their preparation. The decision was unanimous: they’re excited to rewatch another interpretation and compare it with the choices they’ve been developing.

With auditions complete and the show beginning to take shape, the ensemble is now focused on refining the rhythm of the play — sharpening the comedy, clarifying the storytelling, and continuing to build the joyful chaos that makes The Comedy of Errors so much fun to perform.

February 24th and 26th

“Can You Imagine Not Knowing Your Husband Had a Twin?” — February 24

This week’s session blended character work, costume experimentation, and plenty of laughter. We began with check-ins and practical updates before diving back into the text. Conversations about tie-dye mishaps turned into collaborative problem-solving, with participants offering creative solutions for keeping color vibrant and bold. The costume process continues to be a collective effort — imaginative, resourceful, and full of personality.

We moved into Act 2, Scene 2, where accents and character choices brought fresh energy to the room. A Southern drawl from Dromio sparked laughter, and when confusion about the scene arose, ensemble members jumped in to explain and clarify. As we discussed Adriana’s predicament, one participant captured the absurdity of Shakespeare’s mistaken identity perfectly: “Can you imagine not knowing your husband had a twin and getting him confused!” The room erupted — it was a reminder of how alive this centuries-old comedy still feels.

As we read through Acts 3 and 4, the ensemble dug deeper into emotional stakes. One participant paused before a speech and said, “This part’s going to make me emotional.” That vulnerability led to meaningful discussion about betrayal, disappointment, and the way Shakespeare’s language mirrors lived experience. Humor remained close by, though — witty asides and playful commentary kept the balance between comedy and heart.

By Act 4, Scene 3, bold interpretive choices took center stage. A participant announced, “I’m gonna make her ghetto,” leaning fully into a dynamic, contemporary take on the Courtesan. The choice sparked laughter and reminded us how interpretation can make classical text feel immediate and personal.

We closed the evening with dance games and music trivia, laughter echoing as we made plans for auditions, final costume decisions, and our first full timed run. Momentum is building — and the ensemble is owning the work more each week.

“The Wakanda Is Wakanda-ing.” — February 26

This session was all about finishing the read-through and sharpening character choices. After check-in, we completed Act 4 and moved into the final act of the play.

Accent work became a joyful focal point. When teased that her Dromio’s accent might not match the other twin, one participant laughed, “The Wakanda is Wakanda-ing.” The room lit up. Rather than seeing accent variation as a problem, the group explored how it could become part of the comedy — perhaps even acknowledged directly in the script. That playful creativity reflects the ensemble’s growing confidence in shaping the story.

In Act 5, Scene 1, we examined the resolution of the play. The group debated whether certain characters should have figured out the twin twist sooner. “They were gonna behead me!” one participant argued passionately, defending Egeon’s confusion. We also discussed whether consequences linger at the end — and whether family truly triumphs. The consensus leaned toward joy. As we reflected, I shared my belief in the power of a happy ending.

Newer members expressed interest in roles and began preparing for auditions. The excitement around stepping into bigger parts is palpable, even when nerves surface. When someone jokingly suggested performing her first forty lines for auditions, groans and laughter filled the room — a reminder that humor keeps us grounded even in moments of anticipation.

We wrapped with games — Buzz, Gibberish Rap, Do Your Dance — and closed in our usual circle. As we head toward auditions and full runs, February has shown us something clearly: this ensemble is not just rehearsing a comedy — they are actively shaping it, questioning it, and making it their own.