:: leighahorton.com ::
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In passing, the director at an audition last weekend said to me, “I saw your show the other night – it was fantastic!” I was bewildered – and frantically paged through my mental catalog of recent performances. Because I’m in the process of moving, I had specifically turned down shows so that I would be uninhibited during these few weeks. It never occurred to me that he could be mistaking me for someone else; I was convinced he saw me in something that I’ve since forgotten. I managed an audible, yet perplexed, “my show?”

Turns out he was referring to Everywhere Signs Fall, in which I appear for a brief monologue on video. Frankly, the top floor of mission control is so fried right now, I had forgotten I was “in” it. I’ll be seeing it Saturday night, perhaps that’ll make it on to me olde hard drive.

Anyway, I’m thrilled that the audition-director liked it, and I’ve read great reviews. I’m not surprised, though - it’s got some stage goliaths, directed by my favorite director-friend (who happens to share my name), and written by a playwright whose work I deeply admire. I’m also thrilled to announce that they’re offering two-for-one tickets to tonight’s performance – so, go see!:

Photo by Travis Anderson

A thrilling psychological rollercoaster ride
through mystery, tragedy and romance
in a steamy motel room in hot, seedy Phoenix, Arizona

Graydon Royce of the Star Tribune calls it “a fearless endeavor” and “taut and aggressively acted” full of “gripping performances” and “cracking dialogue.” “An ambitiously smart play!”

Quinton Skinner of City Pages agrees. Through it all is “a genuine beating heart, and a labyrinthine story that unties its knots by the end with a satisfying, deadly conclusion.”

Now playing through May 11
Thursday-Saturday at 7:30 p.m. / Sundays at 4:30 p.m.
Pay what you can Monday, April 28 at 7:30 p.m.

Tickets $18
$15 seniors and Fringe button holders
Under 30? Pay half your age any night!

For tickets, call
(651) 228-7008

Loading Dock Theatre
509 Sibley St., Saint Paul

Presented by Gremlin Theatre
Starring Paul Cram, Tracey Maloney* and John Middleton
Written by Alan Berks
Directed by Leah Cooper
Technical direction and design by Carl Schoenborn
Sound design by Mike Hallenbeck
Video by Kevin Obsatz
Costumes by Annie Cady
Props and construction by Carn Schoenborn and Pete Hansen
Fight Choreography by Mary Karcz
Stage Management by Rose Johnson
Sound board operated by Katie Burger
Cameo video appearances by Muriel Bonertz, Leigha Horton, Jon Mikkelson, Dana Munson, Rik Reppe, and Eric Sharp

*Tracey Maloney appears courtesy Actors’ Equity Association

I recently viewed a profoundly moving speech given at this year’s TED Conference in Monterey, CA – it was presented by neuroanatomist Jill Bolte Taylor on the fascination she experienced when able to study her own brain while she was having a stroke.

The speech has haunted me for weeks, not only because of my generally-hidden passion for science as related to quantum physics and the consequent implications on the human body and psyche; but because it finally provided a clear, scientific answer to what I experience while performing on stage – the interaction between actor and actor, and the interaction between actor and audience.

First, for context, an excerpt of Bolte Taylor’s speech detailing the primary functions of the human brain:

Our right hemisphere is all about this present moment. It’s all about right here right now. Our right hemisphere, it thinks in pictures and it learns kinesthetically through the movement of our bodies. Information in the form of energy streams in simultaneously through all of our sensory systems. And then it explodes into this enormous collage of what this present moment looks like. What this present moment smells like and tastes like, what it feels like and what it sounds like. I am an energy being connected to the energy all around me through the consciousness of my right hemisphere. We are energy beings connected to one another through the consciousness of our right hemispheres as one human family. And right here, right now, all we are brothers and sisters on this planet, here to make the world a better place. And in this moment we are perfect. We are whole. And we are beautiful.

My left hemisphere is a very different place. Our left hemisphere thinks linearly and methodically. Our left hemisphere is all about the past, and it’s all about the future. Our left hemisphere is designed to take that enormous collage of the present moment. And start picking details and more details and more details about those details. It then categorizes and organizes all that information. Associates it with everything in the past we’ve ever learned and projects into the future all of our possibilities. And our left hemisphere thinks in language. It’s that ongoing brain chatter that connects me and my internal world to my external world. It’s that little voice that says to me, “Hey, you gotta remember to pick up bananas on your way home, and eat ‘em in the morning.” It’s that calculating intelligence that reminds me when I have to do my laundry. But perhaps most important, it’s that little voice that says to me, “I am. I am.” And as soon as my left hemisphere says to me “I am,” I become separate. I become a single solid individual separate from the energy flow around me and separate from you.

With these brain functions finally delineated in a way I could understand, I’ve been far more cognizant of how I experience the world – my surroundings, my relationships, my interactions. All in all, I tend to embrace and honor my right brain-ness, yet have a constant undercurrent of streaming left-brain narrative and evaluation.

That said, I found myself rather shaken after having what seemed to be a wholly right-brain experience at an audition the week before last. I was in St. Croix Falls, Wisconsin, participating in what turned out to be a six-hour audition. It boiled down to about 4% actually auditioning on stage in front of a director, 28% working scenes with audition partners or reading the sides over on my own, 32% chit-chatting with other actors, and 64% tedium.

There was one actor in particular (and thus to the point of my story) with whom I was assigned to read. We worked our scene multiple times, and then got to talking in generalities. The more we talked, the more we realized we had similar experiences with some of the same people, and thus, a connection was formed. Energy was shared. I didn’t realize the benefit of this exchange until we were in the audition room and our scene took on a whole new level of familiarity and spark.

When we were paired again later in the day, without the opportunity to first read over the scenes together, I was not concerned - it was like being at home on stage because I somehow trusted this actor implicitly. And he gave a powerful performance, and with it the finest gift – I felt this rush of strength and wisdom and insouciance being directed at me, and in turn it gave me license to summon up the same in myself and return it to him. He gave me the right to shine unabashedly, without censure. At one point, I had even put down my script because my character was done speaking but still on stage – I used that time to make physical discoveries, and to just live in the space. I did all of this without internal narrative – it just…happened.

Now don’t get me wrong, it’s not like rays of sunlight burst out of my chest and destroyed the onlookers, a la Indiana Jones and the Raiders of the Lost Ark. Hell, it probably didn’t look like anything special to anyone beyond our little sphere of interaction. But it felt important.

And I got cast.

A year or two ago I discovered Fox Tax, a young, family-run business specializing in financial services for performing and visual artists and musicians. I made a mental note to call them once I took the plunge into freelance work and needed help with my assumably messy taxes. 2007 was the year of said plunge, and the 2007 messy tax reporting season is upon us. Call made.

Their office was pretty sweet – a re-purposed storefront in North East with hardwood floors, exposed ceilings, white walls, and a visual art gallery for their lobby. Their CPAs know their stuff and are informative to boot; one of the Foxes worked through my Federal and State taxes (including my renter’s return) in under an hour and taught me tidbits about reporting practices and deductions and reasoning along the way. And, while he was at it, recommended a book on creating theater with teens. You read that right.

The downside: I owe The Government money. For the first time. Ever. Hundreds. On the large side of hundreds. For an artist, “hundreds” is code for “a Big Deal.”

In all honesty, it’s not terrible once my renter’s return is factored in, but that won’t come until August – a long, long four months after the April 15 Big Deal due date. I’ll just chalk this up to dirty little life-lesson learned about freelance work and savings and withholdings and all of that. And with that lesson learned, I am now prepared to be a stealthy ninja unto next year’s taxes – I will go in, free my captive money, and silently return from whence I came.

I’m holding off actually filing my Federal Big Deal until the last minute – in the interim I keep randomly shouting a particular Beatles lyric, startling people and making me laugh every time.

TAX MAAAAN!

Just when you thought I was getting a little too quiet…

Centex Homes – “Breakup”
Recorded and Produced by Audio Ruckus
Market: Minneapolis
I play the ummm, erm, “snotty” daughter. Biiiiiig stretch, right mom? It was pretty easy to channel that character, as the attitude was clearly mine from roughly 1992 through 1999.

Kansas Lottery– “Keno Radio: Questions”
Recorded and Produced by a confounding digital relationship between Minneapolis’ Babble-On and Kansas City’s (yes, MO) Evolution Audio.
Market: Kansas
I am the ditz: “My boyfriend went to Topeka and played Keno…should I be concerned?”

LifeTime Fitness – “In My Lifetime”
(1 of 2 – my favorite of the two - it positively smolders)
Recorded and Produced by Audio Ruckus
Market: Minneapolis, Dallas
I am the dreamer: “In my lifetime, I will listen to my heart.”

LifeTime Fitness – “In My Lifetime”
(2 of 2 – more practical, straightforward)
Recorded and Produced by Audio Ruckus
Market: Minneapolis, Dallas
I am the doer: “In my lifetime, I will listen to my heart.”

Quiet? HA! See what I did just there? I unleashed a fury of sound because I CANNOT BE SILENCED. BWAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHA. Kidding. In all honesty I just wanted to share because voice-over work makes me feel all shiny. SHINY!

I hopped on an early flight Saturday morning to perform in Columbus, Ohio, and upon arrival was led to my venue by Barack Obama and a couple of police motorcades. Truth!

Turns out he was heading from the airport to Ohio State University at the same time I was heading from the airport to a venue just a neighborhood away. There were police cars and motorcycles, three tour buses, more police cars and motorcycles, and a Mustang carrying my gracious hosts and me. I didn’t find out until the next day that it was him, but I had a gut feeling that I was being led by hope, and it felt good.

That hope was a fitting tribute to the show I was there to perform - Mrs. Man of God is a very funny, very poignant show about the joys, fears, and complexities of being the “Minister’s Wife,” when the Minister is gay and the Minister’s Wife is a man, and when your faith requires you to be closeted. The literal backdrop of our show is but a small representation of The Shower of Stoles project – stoles of clergy who have been stripped of their credentials for loving whom they love. Over a thousand of these stoles exist – representations of clergy who have been denied their life’s passion, their calling, because of their identity. I’m not a religious person, but I strive daily to honor and defend social justice, so I find this particular show’s message moving and, sadly, relevant.

It was a joy to rejoin the Nashville cast for this show – (what stellar, stellar talent! – Dennis Curley, Beth Gilleland, Dane Stauffer, and Scott Ford), and a joy to see some familiar faces from our performance in Nashville – Columbus clergy that had joined together with the help of the Human Rights Campaign and several other organizations to bring Mrs. Man of God to town in advance of a vote; a vote in the Methodist church on whether or not to recognize GLBT clergy.

The only hitch in the entire weekend, aside, perhaps, from the insane stress of keeping two different shows in my head leading up to the flight, was that I glanced at our program a few minutes before going onstage only to discover that I was billed as “Hugh Horton.” I vaguely recollect screaming, “HUGH Horton?!,” and laughing hysterically before covering my mouth to hold it in. I’ve gotten some pretty incredible name misspellings and mispronunciations over the years, but this one is my favorite thus far.

All in all, the audience was enormous and fantastic, and there was an incredible sense of community in the room. Everyone had different, compelling, beautiful, and heartwrenching stories, and I was honored to be part of a show that invited these stories to be told. And on a completely shallow note – my voice was back up to snuff and I sang my heart out.

I’m so busy right now I’d probably lose my head if it weren’t screwed on; in fact, I’m almost certain I’ve stumbled upon some unattended nuts and bolts, which makes me rather uneasy.

The first performance of the Ministry of Cultural Warfare’s offering to the Twin Cities Chekhov Festival went swimmingly – we’ve got just two shows left, this Friday and the following Thursday. Fellow cast-member, Anthony Paul, and I took a little fieldtrip to the MPR studios yesterday to provide some ridiculously-accented shenanigans for their story.

This Saturday morning I’ll be flying to Columbus, OH, to perform Mrs. Man of God (the same show I did in Nashville this summer). That means attempting to keep Chekhov in my head while re-learning Mrs. Man of God and all the accompanying music. I predict nightmares involving embodiments of heavy Minnesotan and Russian accents dancing a furious tango, artfully stepping over my bruised corpse.

And I was cast in Frank Theater’s next show, Brecht’s Mr. Puntila and his Man Matti, which is supposed to start rehearsing this week, but I’m in the process of being replaced due to the schedule conflicts generously provided by the above-listed shows. I was thrilled to finally work with Wendy Knox, but it looks like it wasn’t in the starcards this time around. Alas.

And I’m house-sitting con perro, which means I don’t get to do any of this from the comfort of my own home. Nor with a good night’s sleep provided by my own bed. My own bed, where the bizarre noises can always be blamed on a neighbor with adjoining walls, rather than the inherent creepiness of settling single-family-homes.

Time to put on my game-face and SPARKLE! With JAZZ-HANDS! TA-DAAAA! File under “Faking it until One is Making It.”

This isn’t exactly the newest of news anymore, but it’s still pretty relevant. After roughly twelve years of variations on the same hair-theme, I’ve finally gone and got the hairs cut for real. Take a gander:

(click on the thumbnails to view larger images)

Cool thing #1: I didn’t cry at the salon, despite 6+inch locks falling to the floor.

Cool thing #2: I didn’t cry secretly when I got home.

Cool thing #3: I like it. I really like it.

Point of relevance #1: I probably won’t be able to get away with my existing black & white headshot anymore, so will need a new one. Good thing my favorite headshot photographer has a brand-new, killer studio.

Point of relevance #2: It changes how I’ll be considered by casting agents. I went from trying-too-hard-to-be-voluptuous to easygoing-fun-sexy. Pretty sure that’s an upgrade.