Leigha Horton :: Green room
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I hereby offer you your new daily internet addiction, Chasing Windmills. I’ll be joining this new season’s expanded shenanigans about mid-October…you’ll know when my character gets introduced because I’ll get added to the bulletin-board. In the interim, you can catch a 2.5-second teaser appearance in the six-minute Overture and soak up the joy that is the new cast in the new episodes – and since I’m at a bit of a loss as how to describe it at this point, I’ll give you Max Sparber’s take, slightly edited to make sense in this context, but mostly posted in its entirety because I’m lazy:

…a daily vlog detailing the fictional experiences of a real Puerto Rican couple living in Minneapolis. The show was created by Juan Antonio del Rosario and Cristina Cordova, who, at the end of the last season, fictionally ended their romance after a grueling fictional miscarriage. Most of the last season followed the couple bickering, goofing around, and pontificating in their downtown apartment…This season begins with a long “overture” that introduces the filmmakers’ intentions and new characters for the season… The remainder of the cast is mostly drawn from the local blogging scene, including local actress and theater producer Leigha Horton, Girl Friday’s Alexis McKinnis, Amber of An Amber-Colored Life, and Mpls.St.Paul Magazine associate editor Steve Marsh. So far I have very little idea about what this season is going to look like — I have only seen the scripts that I have already shot, as they are written week-to-week. But this suits me, as I will be discovering the storylines and my character’s developments as the season progresses, and I like that sense that there is something to be discovered.

What Max said. And one more thing to note – the video on their fancy homepage always seems to look all pixilated – you might want to just bookmark the archives and view the videos from there instead (it’s updated daily). Enjoy!

I just realized the Ivey Awards are happening right now. And I’m at home. Ooopies.

I had a blast at last year’s Iveys playing Waldorf and Statler up in the balcony with my MoCW compatriots… alas, it just wasn’t on my radar this year; it got overshadowed by Elevator Repair Service’s masterpiece, GATZ.

Ah well; next year. Until then, I’ll leave the Iveys with a topical quote from two of my favorite old men:

Statler: What's the name of that famous song Tony Bennett sings?
Waldorf: "I Left My Heart In San Francisco"
Statler:  Big deal! I left my teeth in Minneapolis!
Both:	Dooh ho ho ho ho!

Last night I attended part one (of two) of Elevator Repair Service’s GATZ – a wildly unconventional adaptation of F. Scott Fitzgerald’s The Great Gatsby, in which every single word of the novel is spoken. In order. The entire performance lasts about six-and-a-half hours, and while I had the opportunity to see the show as a marathon this Saturday or Sunday, I decided to take the easy route and see it in two parts over two evenings. Most of the time I don’t feel a day over 24, but the idea of sitting in a theater seat for seven hours in one fell swoop makes me want to play the age card. Or the unadventurous card. Doesn’t really matter which because either way it’s a card. Moving on.

I arrived at the theater last night in unfashionable (read: purposefully comfortable) clothing, looking forward to nothing more than settling down in my chair and allowing the language of the work to enfold me. There’s a sweet nostalgic comfort that accompanies being read to, and it seemed the perfect fit to the end of a rather difficult week and to the beginning of a long rainy night. The performance was wonderful…set in a fantastically dingy industrial back-office with office-workers living their office-lives yet assuming the characters of Nick, Gatsby, Daisy, Tom Buchanan, Jordan Baker, and Myrtle Wilson (amongst others, including a hilarious moment with the eyes of Dr. TJ Eckleburg) on a sometimes-bustling parallel plane, the most beautiful moments are those when the set is quiet and dim and we are left with just our narrator, Scott Shepherd. You’ll have to forgive my sentimental foolishness, but it was honestly like being hugged by something far greater than myself, and being told that everything was going to be okay.

I was engaged. I was entertained. I was critical. I was inspired. Ever since I was first introduced to Elevator Repair Service in 2004 when the Walker brought Room Tone in as part of the Out There series (a dark, eerie piece that married the text of Henry James’ Turn of the Screw with his brother’s, William James, psychology writings) I have been a fan. But now, with my resolve to finally make a ‘go’ of it as a full-time actor, I want very much to be an active participant. I want to create the kind of theater they’re creating. I want to challenge and entertain with them, doing what I do best. Working with ERS as an actor is now officially on my list of goals. Expect a call, John Collins.

Check-it: I’m on the Internet Movie Database. My filmography is teeny-tiny, but it’s a start. And a start ain’t half-bad.

In other news, I spent some time last weekend tweaking my commercial voiceover demo with a friend, the goals of which are to garner a richer, fuller tone and replace some of the weaker reads. The highly-contentious Morgan Stanley script stays. Yes, it’s a stodgy RP English accent and some of you hate it, some of you love it; but since everyone seems to feel strongly about it I figure it’s memorable and therefore it stays. You’ll know when the new demo is up because you’ll want to buy some ice cream. And that’s all I’m going to say about that. *ahem*

In the next week or two I’ll also be recording narrative and accent demos…I can’t wait to get those done, especially since I’ve been wanting to do the former for months now. The narrative demo will include part of one of the ice-fishing stories I recorded for the Walker Art Center’s Open Ended: The Art of Engagement exhibition, and another piece or two yet to be determined – probably pieces from Ken Burns’ Jazz series, and Nova’s The Elegant Universe. Fitting since I adore both jazz and quantum physics.

I’m also hoping to spend some quality time with my home-recording setup to get the recording levels set once and for all. I know this thing has the power to make some really nice recordings, I just haven’t been able to find the sweet spot yet. I’m working with a Digital Reference DR-CX1 mic with a Stedman Proscreen XL on a desk mount, patched into a M-Audio Mobilepre USB. The preamp runs directly into the computer, and I’m using Audacity (open-source software) to record. If any of you pros have any recommendations off-hand, I’m completely open to suggestions. For those of you who might suggest not using the brand name of the windscreen to help me avoid sounding like a novice; I’ll work on that.

After five years of managing grant applications on behalf of my day-job and the artists/artistic programs we present, I just submitted my very first grant application on behalf of myself and my own artistic aspirations. I even hand-delivered the package to the Minnesota State Arts Board office with an hour to spare before the deadline, despite efforts to scare me away from completing the delivery.

It’s like I’m a real artist now. Wild.

Last fall I read a conversation between two of my favorite playwrights, Suzan Lori-Parks and the recently deceased August Wilson, in American Theatre magazine. On taking risks, Wilson said, “You have to believe that you could dive off a cliff and that you’ll be okay, that you’ll sprout wings and fly, otherwise you’ll never dive off the cliff.”

Looks like this girl is about to do some cliff-diving. Some scary, scary cliff-diving.

This December, I begin rehearsals at The Children’s Theatre Company for Tale of a West Texas Marsupial Girl, and with the start of rehearsals brings the end of my five-year career at the Walker Art Center. It also brings the end of the comforts (steady income, health insurance) upon which I have come to depend. Okay, depend heavily. Starting in December, I will be making my living as an actor. Please excuse me while I repeat that, for my own sake: I will be making my living as an actor.

I find this concept equally thrilling and terrifying.

In early July when I turned 28, a dear friend sat me down and paced the room while lecturing me for a solid hour about how, in regard to performing, this is going to be The Year of Leigha. That means no more fucking around. No more cutting corners. No more procrastinating. No more waiting for things to fall in my lap. I have been inspired on the short-term in the past, but nothing like this. This friend knows me deeply, and he cared enough to point out and shoot down my bullshit excuses and my laziness. He helped me navigate my way out of complacency, out of inaction.

Two weeks after my birthday we went and saw the touring Broadway version of Wicked – and it only deepened my resolve. As fully expected, some of the performers could sing circles around me; but surprisingly, some of them couldn’t. For the first time, I realized that doing what they were doing on that stage wasn’t just a pipe dream. I’ve worked long and hard to develop the chops that I have (and I fully comprehend that I have plenty more work to do now and throughout my life); it’s high time I start giving those chops the respect they deserve. I will be making my living as an actor.

Move-over Dog, make way Boar, and mind the gap John Miller-Stephany; July 3, 2006 through July 3, 2007 is The Year of Leigha. It’s time.