FINDING COMMUNITY, BY MICHAEL MONTANUS

Similar to most theatre makers I know, I have a day job that separates what I love to do creatively with what supports me financially. As I’m sure many folks have felt before me and many will after me, I’ve found myself with a frustrating itch that I haven’t quite been able to pinpoint the origin of. A hollowness of some kind that, on good days, prowls the recesses of my conscious thought and, on bad days, consumes almost my entire waking focus and makes working that day job feel Sisyphean in nature. I want to recognize that I am very fortunate to have a day job that allows me to pursue my creative passions, as that is not the case for everyone, but some weeks are certainly tougher than others. In my efforts over the past year to regulate my own mental well-being, I’ve tried to pinpoint what exactly separates the creative fulfillment I get through my art, and the occasional disparagement I feel while at my day job. While many attributing factors can vary person to person, I think what’s affecting me personally has been a lack of community at my day job. 

More often than not, my work can feel isolating. The majority of my time is spent making deliveries and organizing our back warehouse alone. Whereas as an actor, my main priority is connecting with people, whether that be cast mates or the audience. Live theatre thrives on connection, and the deeper the level of trust and connection a cast shares, the more that influences the final result in a positive way. That’s one of the reasons I really appreciate the longer rehearsal processes Seat of the Pants implements. 

In a normal rehearsal schedule (typically 3-4 weeks if you’re lucky), actors are often so busy blocking and working to get our heads out of our scripts that I feel like the majority of my connection with a cast doesn’t manifest until the show opens and we have a chance to breathe. When I worked on Trouble in Mind a couple years ago, I felt like the 10 week rehearsal process not only gave me more rehearsal time with my head out of the script, I was able to use that extra time to create deeper connections with my fellow cast mates. One frigid night after rehearsal, the battery in my car died. Thankfully my castmate Madison Ledyard-King was willing to stay behind an extra hour until we successfully managed to jump my car. I will never forget that act of kindness; the level of community and ensemble trust I shared with the cast really made the moments we shared onstage that much richer. 

And in regard to Seat of the Pants, another area of community that has been helpful for me this past year has been joining the Seat of the Pants Ensemble. This is my first time being a part of a theatre company but the immediate amount of grace and support I received from the rest of the Ensemble only strengthened that feeling of community. As individual members we all have our own areas of responsibility but consistently other ensemble members have stepped up when I’ve felt overwhelmed or fallen short. I’m the volunteer coordinator and multiple times my fellow ensemble members have filled in gaps that I myself have not been able to, and I do my best to do the same for other Ensemble members’ areas of responsibilities. The only way this Ensemble runs efficiently is through the work we all put in to cultivating and nurturing our professional community.

It’s difficult to qualify, but the feelings of communal highs I am awarded through my own creative work as an actor and the professional relationships I’ve established within the ensemble make those low points at my day job that much more difficult to face. It makes that itch ever more apparent and for a long time I felt like the only way to face those moments of Sisyphean struggle was to dig deep into the separation of art and work. To embrace the seclusion I felt at work in order to preserve my artistic integrity for what I was actually emotionally invested in. But a little bit ago, my supervisor was ordering lunch for the office. I didn’t have any deliveries to make so I put in my order, and her face lit up, commenting about how infrequently I joined my colleagues for lunch. The irony of my own circumstances hit me over the head. The lack of community I was feeling existed only within my own attempts at preserving it outside of my day job. The people I work with are just as trusting and supportive as everyone I’ve met in theatre. The final goal is just different, and my idea of community has always been too narrow. With a gradual expanding of that definition, I anticipate the bad days at work to occasionally still be insurmountable, but the edges can be softened knowing that there is always a group of folks that has my back. Artistically, and otherwise.