From CKP’s Social Media Coordinator, Angela Santillo

For the last five months I have been stuck on a cruise ship that has finally come to dock at New York’s famed LaMaMa stage. Of course, when I say “cruise ship” I don’t mean a literal one (although I have been on those as well). The ship I am talking about is a new play, Port Out Starboard Home (aka POSH), written by Sheila Callaghan, produced by San Francisco’s foolsFURY Theater (a very physical, experimental ensemble). The dark comedy takes place on a ship as cruise goers struggling to find enlightenment find themselves in the middle of a horrific ritual.
POSH first opened this summer at ZSpace in San Francisco. So while I worked for CavanKerry in the morning, by noon I was out the door to spend the rest of my day in a rehearsal room learning lines, understanding the unique language of the play, practicing bruise inducing choreography, participating in intense physical training and getting to know my character “Gayle.” Now back in NYC, I work full-time then rush downtown in order to perform before our 7:30 audience.
LaMaMa’s First Floor Theater is a small 99 seat space and our bright white, swooping set looks as if it crashed through the back door. The walls are quintessential New York (exposed tired red brick) and our dressing room is tiny, full of swimsuit clad actors, make up and space heaters. Our limited backstage area is packed with costumes, pounds and pounds of cabbage (for our lunch buffet dance) and hunkering actors searching for water bottles during brief breaks in between scenes.

We began pick up rehearsals in the city right as Hurricane Sandy hit and the last three weeks have been one debacle after another. Our venue lost power in downtown Manhattan, I walked hours to rehearsal because of subway closures, the truck carrying our set was delayed, cast members got laryngitis…as one actor said, “This is as close to Noises Off as we will ever get.” But the show always does go on and this past Saturday we opened to a full house of friends, theater goers and critics.
And I am onstage at LaMaMa, an East Village icon since 1961, a world renowned theater that features experimental work from companies all around the world. Our show, like all other shows that have come through this venue, will be included in their living archive. Old directors have been calling me, singing messages of congratulations on my voicemail. CKP’s Teresa Carson sent me an exclamation heavy email after she saw my picture on page 20 of LaMaMa’s fall brochure. The reviews are out and tonight’s audience will include members of CKP’s staff-I can only imagine what they will think as I dance, tap and cry in my hot pink costume.
Like most artistic achievements, we only gain perspective once the moment has passed. I won’t be able to process this accomplishment till it’s over cause right now all I can think about is taking care of my knee, my voice and making sure I eat enough before the show. But I do get hit by these moments in performance when I realize I’m acting before a New York audience and the brick walls surrounding the stage suddenly become insanely epic. And all I can think is, “Hot damn, I’m at LaMaMa.”
Hot damn.
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