March 31, 2010

Great crooked moon in the northwest when I passed Beaver Lake in the dark of the morning.

Moved the flat rock bearing the bird bath, and found under it the white coils of peony shoots, creeping palely sideways, trying to find the light. They’re already taking on color and aiming upward. I felt as good discovering and freeing them as if I had opened the Bastille. After running this morning I packed dirt into the canyons left by the plumbers. The damage to the flowers in front may be less than I feared (if still more than I wanted) Red peony feathers are coming up even in the raw trench. Huge fronds of the crown imperial rising, not yet blooming. We are about a month behind from last year.

Received a check from NC Stage for The Beautiful Johanna. The approximate sum I lost, as producer, was $3400; I think it best not to follow too precise an accounting. I plan to give most of the proceeds back to the theater, so that digs a hole rather more than $4400 deep. Better weather might have doubled the intake. Might not have. Was it worth it? In most ways, yes. As the playwright, yes. As a friend to my lovely cast, crew, and musicians, yes. As a citizen of the Asheville art world, I’m not so sure. I didn’t realize what an opportunity for hysteria in the Mountain Xpress comments page it was going to provide the local arts wannabes. But those who got something from it got something, and that’s what theater is for.

Found two reviews and an interview in Metabolism. I’d forgotten I’d given the interview, and assumed the reviews were never written. But there they were. I couldn’t really tell if they were favorable or not, but I was honored by the serious and intelligent analysis both UNCA students gave the production. I was proud to have been part of their education as scholars. It was like being the track upon which two champion runners won their first race.

Rush to the studio to paint as much as I can, exploring the nuances of egg tempera. I don’t know why it never caught with me like this before. Like painting with beautiful mist, or liquid silk.

Discussion with Mark Ramont of Ford’s Theater about Earthly Power. He probably understands that everything is frustrating, nothing is satisfying, everything is an affront except “yes.”