OUT OF MY MIND: MERIAH SAGE

In rehearsal a few weeks ago, I stood on the edge of the room, warmed up my actors’ ideal center, and crossed the “Threshold”into the playing space with two of my fellow ensemble members. The air inside that invisible membrane was different. What I found that day was a swirl of joy, focused playfulness, and connectedness with my fellow actors. It’s moments like these that I live for in theatre. I’m out of my “mind” and fully present with all my cells, my senses, and my imagination. I fully trust that we are agreeing to believe and play in the same imagined world. It’s a rush.

This particular rehearsal, we were working on a scene where several of the officers are hunting birds and talking about their charge of convicts and creating “a civilization”. I found myself puffed, tall, and with shockingly little weight to my decisions. I was laughing frequently and “flying” about the room, with little gravity. My character expected (and had) a lot of power and agility. The other characters in the scene were my colleagues, my comrades, whom I respected but did not always agree with. The banter was delightful…gamelike. The air was light and lifted me. When we stepped back through the threshold and out of the world of the play, our chatter and the discoveries between us were electric.

We found a lot: on our feet and from within in the world. I would have made totally different choices if I was analyzing the script using my intellect only. My choices discovered on my feet were more dynamic, less predictable, and simply felt right.

We also explored a scene between my character, Duckling (a convict) and Harry Brewer (an officer). The scene takes place on a small rowboat, so the playing space is significantly smaller and has limited movement options. We crossed the threshold and entered the tiny space that we later determined was the atmosphere of “sticky”. We explored the atmosphere of “sticky” and then launched into our lines for part of the scene. The stickiness changed everything: the air was hard to breathe, the boat (and Harry) became a prison impossible to escape from, the ability to simply turn around was difficult. But also…I (Duckling) learned to use the stickiness. At some point I discovered Harry was also stuck. And then I realized I could use “stickiness” to my advantage. At the end of the scene, they are both still in “sticky” - stuck together. This simple discovery was profound for me. The relationship between Duckling and Harry is very complicated. Somehow, “Stuck together” seems, beautifully/heartbreakingly, at the core of it.

I did not “drive” home after that rehearsal- I flew. As much as I love research and “rabbit holes”, there is nothing like exploring on my feet in rehearsals. In OCG rehearsals, we explore through a full-bodied experience, with other artists, powered by collective imagination, and play. It ignites me as an artist. And it kindles the the type of plays I want to help create: dynamic ones that light the stage on fire with imagination, connection, and trust.