October 28th and 30th

“Straight Up!”

This week’s gathering was a joyful reminder of what makes the ensemble special—collaboration, humor, and shared ownership of the process. The evening was devoted to one of the most important decisions of the season: how auditions would work.

After warm laughter during check-in, the ensemble discussed several options. Should auditions be before or after Thanksgiving? Should they keep the traditional SIP style of performing solo monologues? Every opinion was heard. One member pointed out that holding auditions before the holiday would avoid scheduling conflicts; another agreed that it would “leave more time for the read-through before the break.” A single voice spoke up for post-holiday auditions, but when it came to a vote, the decision was clear—pre-Thanksgiving auditions won overwhelmingly.

The conversation then turned to the format. The group quickly agreed to return to the traditional style—each person performing a monologue on stage—and began calling out suggestions. The list grew fast: Adriana 2.2, Luciana 3.2, Antipholus 3.2, Egeon 1.1, and Dromio 4.4. One participant read Adriana’s piece and admitted, “I didn’t like it—there were a lot of words I didn’t know.” Another followed and declared, “I loved it! Straight up!” which sent the group into laughter.

Another member gave a lively reading of Luciana’s speech that earned enthusiastic cheers from her peers. The discussion that followed was full of encouragement and curiosity. Together, the ensemble narrowed the options down to five audition pieces:

1. Adriana 2.2

2. Duke 1.1

3. Luciana 3.2

4. Antipholus 3.2 (paired with #3 for a optional scene)

5. Dromio 4.4

6. Or any other piece that “speaks to you”

The evening closed with everyone sharing which roles they hoped to explore. The room buzzed with anticipation—some dreaming of leads, others of comic side roles—and plenty of laughter along the way. By night’s end, the group had charted the path forward democratically and joyfully.

“We Don’t Consider This to Be a Gift!”

Two days later, the ensemble reached another major milestone: stepping into the proscenium for the first time this season. That shift—from sitting in the circle to standing on the stage—is always a thrilling one. It signals that the work is transforming from exploration to performance.

The evening began lightheartedly, with jokes and laughter. When the audition packets were handed out, someone quipped, “We don’t consider this to be a gift!” and the room erupted. After a brief conversation about the coming weeks—practicing audition pieces, exploring roles, and building confidence—the ensemble moved eagerly into the performance space.

The first scene opened with two participants playing Luciana and Antipholus, running their lines twice and finding more confidence each time. Another group followed with a fast-paced exchange between Dromio and the Courtesan, and soon the stage was alive with motion and laughter. When one actor froze mid-scene, a voice from the house called out, “Move around! Stop standing in one spot!”—drawing good-natured cheers and helping everyone loosen up.

Throughout the evening, performers experimented with rhythm, projection, and physicality. One ensemble member presented the Duke’s monologue, standing tall at the podium while peers offered encouraging notes—“slow down,” “take a breath,” “stand proud.” Another scene drew big laughs when an actor was told to “seduce the audience,” and a friend in the seats pretended to swoon, clapping and laughing along.

There wasn’t much discussion that night because no one wanted to stop performing. One scene after another flowed naturally; people were volunteering before the previous one had even ended. It was clear that the ensemble had leveled up. The nervous excitement of stepping onto the stage for the first time mixed with the joy of seeing each other shine.

As October closed, the Comedy of Errors ensemble stood quite literally on its feet—ready for auditions, brimming with courage, and united in their shared leap forward.

October 21st and 23rd

“With Shakespeare You Get Lost in the Sauce”

By late October, the ensemble was flying through the No Fear text. The experiment—voted on earlier in the month—had become a bonding experience. Even those who were initially skeptical began to see the benefits. “It gets you in the mindset of these characters—their emotions,” one participant said. “With Shakespeare you get lost in the sauce. With the No Fear, the proof is in the pudding.” Another added simply, “This makes sense.”

Act 3.2 brought flirtation and wit, with Antipholus wooing Luciana and Dromio cracking nonstop jokes. “It was the first time I took a role that big,” one participant said after reading. Every time a Dromio joke landed, the whole group shouted “Ay-oh!” until laughter filled the room.

In Act 4.1, Antipholus of Ephesus found himself in debt and under arrest, and the ensemble worked to untangle who owed whom. By the time they reached Act 4.2, Adriana’s jealousy had the room buzzing again. One performer sprinted into her entrance, breathlessly accusing her sister of betrayal. Her timing was impeccable, and the group snapped and laughed in appreciation. “That was really funny,” one participant said admiringly.

On October 23, the ensemble revisited Act 4.4 and the play’s climactic final scene. The language was modern, but the emotion still rang true. “That was fun!” one participant said after finishing. “Let’s do it again!” As the group finished the No Fear side, attention turned toward the production. Costume and setting ideas flew around the room: “Renaissance!” someone shouted. “Bougie pirates!” another suggested. “1920s flapper and gangster attire—because we’re in our own 20s!” someone added. The idea stuck, filling the group with excitement for what’s next.

Auditions were right around the corner, and anticipation was palpable. The ensemble had read, laughed, argued, and reflected their way through The Comedy of Errors. As one participant said earlier in the season, “I used to be like, ‘not me,’ and now I’m ready to read.” The story of mistaken identity had become something more—a story about finding voice, purpose, and joy together.

October 14th and 16th

“I’m a Happy Person Here”

Mid-October marked both a creative and emotional turning point. With the play now fully read, the ensemble began the unusual process of moving through the No Fear translation from start to finish—an experiment born from a group vote and driven by curiosity. At the same time, they revisited one of SIP’s longest-running traditions: the “Three Questions.”

Each season, every ensemble member answers the same three prompts: What brought me to SIP? What do I hope to get out of SIP? What is my gift to the group? Their answers revealed the depth and diversity of the ensemble. “I was angry at home and was very mean to people who didn’t deserve it,” one participant shared. “I can get out of the toxic life out there. I’m a happy person here. I can give back and be me.” Another said, “Get out of my head and find my voice.” A third added, “This is my home away from home. I love the stage. I think I was born an actor.”

Someone spoke about confidence: “When you’re insecure, you don’t see how others see you. People tell me I’m good. My momma made me sign up—she saw what I didn’t see.” Another described SIP as “the two times out of the week I forget I’m in prison.” By the end, one member summed up the energy perfectly: “The outside noise stops at the door.”

Afterward, the group returned to Act 3.1, one of the play’s most frantic moments, where Antipholus of Ephesus is locked out of his own home and argues with everyone in sight. The ensemble leaned into the confusion, building the scene so it escalated naturally—each character pushing harder when they don’t get what they want. The night ended with laughter echoing across the room.

October 7th & 9th

This week, the ensemble reached the grand finale of The Comedy of Errors—and with it, the full force of Shakespeare’s chaos. The play’s last two acts are a whirlwind of mistaken identities, arrests, accusations of madness, and one long-delayed family reunion. With the ensemble champing at the bit to get started on production, the group’s mix of laughter, insight, and sharp observation filled the room.

The reading of Act 4.4 opened with good humor despite the smaller turnout. “It’s a pretty confusing play—hence the name Comedy of Errors,” someone joked as the group settled in. Soon, they were deep in the action: the twin Antipholuses shouting accusations, the Dromios running in circles, and Adriana convinced her husband has lost his mind. When one reader reached the line “Thou dissembling harlot!” another laughed, “Oooh, he says some STUFF!” The line got snaps and applause.

The group then debated why the Abbess refuses to let Adriana enter the convent after her “possessed” husband takes refuge there. “You bring the sick and the mental to the Abbess. This is a holy place,” one participant said. Another immediately fired back, “You got hoes, not holy!” The room erupted in laughter. Others explained that abbeys in Shakespeare’s time were sanctuaries. “You bring the sick and the mental to the Abbess,” the reader repeated, and another agreed that abbeys were “safe places,” and beyond the scope of the law. Little do we know, the abbess is actually the twin’s mother and this is revealed later in the scene.

As the ensemble read the play’s closing act, the tangle of twins and misunderstandings began to unravel. “I think let’s start auditions!” someone shouted mid-scene, eager to move on to the next stage of work. A few participants were still catching up—“I missed twenty-five minutes and am completely lost!”—but the room stayed lighthearted. When another said, “I used to be like, ‘not me,’ and now I’m ready to read,” the group cheered.

By the week’s end, the ensemble voted to do something they’d never done before: a full read-through of the No Fear Shakespeare text. “We can still find our own meaning in the No Fear side,” one participant said. “It’ll give us the perspective we need to feel the mood.” Most of the facilitation team spoke against the idea saying that the No Fear side was not really designed to be spoken like lines, but were really meant for accuracy and it may not sound right; second, that No Fear side is created by editors and you as the reader have to agree with the editors on a passage’s meaning if you are performing that side of the text; additionally, that the point of SIP is to wrestle with the language of Shakespeare and not to be reading modern translations. The group voted almost unanimously to read the No Fear side. So the message was clear, we’d be reading the No Fear side in it’s entirety. We’ve never done this before, and most likely will not again; most of the other plays have us reading through most of November, because Comedy of Errors is so short we have some room to try something new!

October 2, 2025

“They Talking Cash-Money-Shit About a Big Bitch!”

As October opened, the ensemble was about midway through The Comedy of Errors—a play that’s as chaotic and short as it is confusing. This has posed some challenges that are fairly unique to this piece. There is not a lot to discuss in terms of important themes or even the richness of Shakespeare’s language. It’s pretty much all plot, and it’s presented in very terse and straightforward verse. The plot is very confusing though, and it has taken most of the discussion time to work out exactly what is happening. With the story deep in its web of mistaken identities, the group dove into the middle acts, navigating the growing chaos of two sets of twins, two sets of debts, and a city convinced everyone’s gone mad.

Early in the session, the group addressed some logistical frustrations, laughing before settling into the reading. The conversation turned thoughtful when one participant shared that she had recently lost a young person in her life. The ensemble offered support and began the night’s work with quiet focus and care.

The reading brought renewed laughter and energy. One participant announced that she wanted “redemption” after feeling nervous the last time she read, and another boldly declared, “I like playing Angelo—that’s my part!” When Antipholus began pursuing Luciana, someone leaned in with delight: “He wants her—I was like ooooh!” Another participant added, “I read it cover to cover—I didn’t want to spoil it!” Everyone laughed, but there was also admiration for how Shakespeare’s quick banter reveals attraction and misunderstanding in the same breath.

The mood shifted to pure comedy when the ensemble reached the scene in which Dromio mocks his wife’s appearance. One participant exclaimed, “They talking cash-money-shit about a big bitch,” and another added, “If I was that woman, my feelings would be hurt!” It is very funny, very tawdry, and pretty classic trope. It’s right up there with a Rodney Dangerfield routine or “Yo Mama” jokes; it’s not very sophisticated stuff, but funny that even Shakespeare– the king of high brow sophistication to those who are unfamiliar with him– has several lines of fat wife jokes. “This sounds like some prison transactions!” one participant said later, comparing Shakespeare’s barter scene to everyday exchanges on the inside.

By the end of the night, the ensemble was laughing through scenes, experimenting with accents, and starting to get the text on its feet. The evening closed with a game that left everyone laughing—the kind of joy that fills the room after good, honest work.