Muses & Musings with Choreographer Warren Carlyle
In my role as Columns Editor for SDC Journal, I interviewed choreographer Warren Carlyle for the Muses & Musings column, which highlights directors and choreographers sharing their current sources of inspiration. This was published in the Fall 2025 issue of the magazine.
Who or what inspired your career in theatre?
I grew up in a village in England, and the village didn't actually have its own theatre. So a lot of my early inspiration came from MGM movie musicals. Anything that Fred Astaire did, anything that Gene Kelly did—that was really my first access to dance of any kind.
I studied in the local dance school, and I graduated from there into full-time ballet school, just outside of London. Classical ballet was the bedrock of my training. Then I danced. I worked on 10 West End shows before I came to America. I danced lots of different styles, in lots of different productions. I was a swing, a dance captain, an assistant choreographer, and a resident director. I found an interesting path and I think those early MGM movie musicals led me to what I'm doing now. Big, bright, joyous shows. That's my hope.
Where do you get your inspiration now? Is it books, music, visual art?
One of my earliest memories is listening to music and imagining things. I think I just always had that thing—I hear music, and I see people moving. Now I sit in my apartment and listen to music and imagine people dancing.
I spend a lot of time in my scripts and in my music. I always have a dance arranger. I always have a drummer. I do research, but I try not to be bound by it or biased by it. Especially with some of the period things. Pirates!, as an example of that, is set in 1890. And if I was bound by period, I'd really be in trouble, I think; I don't know quite how I'd make that dance in the way that I have.
As we speak, your production of Pirates! A Penzance Musical, a reimagining of Gilbert and Sullivan's The Pirates of Penzance, has just opened on Broadway. Tell us about the world you created for that show, and what inspired it.
Pirates! is very much a kind of decoupage world. I wanted the dance to feel like that. The clothes—beautifully designed by Linda Sherwin—feel like that; the scenery—by David Rockwell, lit by Don Holder—feels like that. I wanted the choreography to be in the same world as the scenery and the costumes.
One of the biggest opportunities with Pirates! was to make something that's traditionally a Gilbert and Sullivan operetta—something that's not a dance—to make it dance. To make it move, give it style, give it a language all its own, to make it for this particular generation. We've updated it already, because we've set it in New Orleans. That gave us license to change the music. Then as soon as we got jazz and Creole influences in the music, that started to influence the casting, and that started to influence the way people are moving.
There are very distinct character groups in Pirates! That was fun for me. There are the pirates, the daughters, the police, and these very well-defined principal roles: the modern Major-General, played by David Hyde Pierce, and the Pirate King, played by Ramin Karimloo. How's the Pirate King going to move? How is he expressing his physicality and his strength? Jinkx Monsoon plays Ruth, the nursemaid. How does Ruth move? How does she express herself?
I researched British Naval semaphore [flag signalling] for Pirates! I wanted to create a language for the modern Major-General, and I wanted it to be historically correct. The flags in Pirates! are actually correct: blue and white was correct for the land, and orange and red is correct for "at sea."
So for me, it was a massive opportunity to really create a world for each character and group, and then to push all those things together. Pirates! is this beautiful combo of a show with very distinct movement styles for each of these groups, and then for each of those principal characters.
The other thing I wanted to do is to have fun. I wanted to make a bright, joyous, intelligent, humorous piece of theatre. I didn't want it to be too thoughtful, choreographically. I wanted it to move. I wanted it to move beautifully—every time it stopped, I wanted it to look beautiful—but I wanted it to move.
Where do you find inspiration outside of your work as a choreographer?
A friend of mine, David Rockwell, who's a brilliant designer, has really encouraged me to paint. I really haven't painted in my life. I don't remember ever having painted in watercolor, certainly. I really like it. I feel like I paint pictures with people for a living. That's really what I do.
I hope I paint beautiful pictures with people and tell beautiful stories with people. And now I've started to try that with paint, just gently with a brush, and see how that works. It's really humbling and really challenging, but I like it. My brain likes it.
You paint lot of landscapes, so you're painting with people in your choreographic work but not yet in your visual art.
It's tricky. People are way too hard for me. Unless I'm struck by something at New York City Ballet. Quite often, those shapes really inspire me. I love going to ballet, and City Ballet has been such a big place of inspiration for me over my 25 years in New York. I continue to go to City Ballet every season, and I continue to be a huge fan of those dances, and of that organization too. That's a wonderful artistic venture, and something that I'm constantly inspired by.
I also love seeing other choreographers' work. I'm fascinated by it. I'm such a huge fan of this strange and wonderful group of people. I'm always curious about what makes someone tick. Why is that rhythm like that? Why are they traveling like that? Why did they choose that step? Why is that that color? Why does that go across the phrase, and why did they line it up the end of the phrase? The way people use music is fascinating to me, too. All of us are wildly different. I'm a massive fan of the theatre, massive fan of directors and choreographers.
Warren Carlyle is a Tony Award-winning director and choreographer. Broadway: Pirates! The Penzance Musical; Harmony; The Music Man; Yes We Can; Katie; Hello, Dolly!; She Loves Me; On the 20th Century; After Midnight; Hugh Jackman: Back on Broadway; Chaplin; A Christmas Story; The Mystery of Edwin Drood; Finian's Rainbow; and A Tale of Two Cities.
Innovations with Kristin Hanggi + Maxx Reed
In my role as Columns Editor for SDC Journal, I wroked with contributor Ellie Handel to edit this interview for the Innovations column, which highlights directors and choreographers working on the leading edge of production, process, and technology. This was published in the Fall 2025 issue of the magazine.
The new musical It's All Your Fault, Tyler Price! premiered at the Hudson Theatre in Los Angeles in November 2024. The show focuses on the family of a student with epilepsy, a brain disorder that causes recurring seizures. About three percent of people with epilepsy suffer from a condition known as photosensitive epilepsy, in which exposure to flashing lights, strobe effects, and other intense visual stimuli can trigger seizure, migraines, or dizziness. SDC Journal contributor Edie Handel spoke with director Kristin Hanggi and choreographer Maxx Reed about their journey to understand how some theatrical lighting design affects individuals with photosensitive epilepsy and how the creative team worked to make Tyler Price safe for all audience members to enjoy.
Kristin, how did It's All Your Fault, Tyler Price! come to be, and how did you get involved?
KRISTIN HANGGI | Back in 2007, a producer gave me a CD and said, "See if you think this could be a musical." It was an album written for children that Ben [Decter, It's All Your Fault, Tyler Price! composer, lyricist, and co-book writer] was one of the co-composers on. We met for dinner, and he told me the story of his family and how his daughter was diagnosed at 17 months old with catastrophic childhood epilepsy. Because Ben is a composer, he dealt with it by writing songs. He started playing me songs he wrote to try to find his way through. From 2007 to 2019, Ben and I just tried to figure out how to tell this story. We started working with the Epilepsy Foundation of America, the Epilepsy Foundation of America in Los Angeles, and the Children's Ranch.
During this time, as we started getting our resources in line, I participated in Broadway Dreams [a non-profit theatre performance program for young people that creates inclusive spaces where students of all backgrounds can explore their artistic potential]. One of the choreographers I worked with was Maxx Reed. I watched Maxx start doing this choreography with these young people and I just said, "Well, who's this genius? Where has he been my whole life? Whoa." We got into a taxicab, and he started to talk a bit about himself. I learned that his niece has epilepsy and that he started a foundation with her called EpiArts Alliance.
What is EpiArts Alliance, and how was it established?
MAXX REED | My niece, Anzii McNew, her goal is to be a Broadway performer. When she was diagnosed with epilepsy, she got knocked back a little bit. I started bringing her to Broadway Dreams with me as a student. I discovered a lot about how to be sensitive to her as a performer and what was needed to protect her from having seizures on stage. I was trying to communicate that to other teachers, choreographers, and directors that I work with in the Broadway Dreams ecosystem.
Anzii and her mother, Heather McNew, became the creators of EpiArts Alliance. [Founded in 2023, EpiArts Alliance supports performers with epilepsy and photosensitivity through education and awareness campaigns.]
KRISTIN | Maxx and EpiArts brought a very important component to Tyler Price because I had not been educated, up to that point, about how to create a theatrical environment that was sensitive to the needs of audience members with epilepsy.
I learned Maxx's niece gets triggered by certain lighting cues. When Maxx was performing in Beetlejuice, he would have to tell her when certain cues were coming. Then she knew that if she put a palm over an eyeball, she could watch it without it triggering a seizure. Here it come, Kristin—who directed Rock of Ages, which is all flashing lights all the time—and I didn't know that, I thought only strobe lights could trigger seizures. That's not true. It's not just flashing lights, it has to do with color spectrum as well. If someone has epilepsy, light sensitive epilepsy, it really is an interesting health matter for them.
Before Tyler Price premiered, Kristin and Ben Decter participated in a lighting safety research roundtable organized by EpiArts and inspired by some of the work Maxx was doing with Anzii for Broadway Dreams. The discussion was attended by photosensitive researchers Dr. Arnold Wilkins and Dr. Laura South, lighting designers Donald Holder and Barbara Samuels, and ConsultAbility founder Paul Benhosrt. How did this conversation affect your team's work on Tyler Price's design?
MAXX | We were lucky enough to get wonderful directors, lighting designers, and doctors—literally the man who wrote the book on photosensitive epilepsy—into one giant Zoom call. Now there's a strong relationship between doctors who really understand the science of epilepsy and lighting designers who understand the science of their craft.
We started coming up with protocols for photosensitive design. Strobes and flashes are often unavoidable in theatrical storytelling; however, there are ways to design so that the risk is minimized. For example, designers can point the strobes toward set pieces rather than towards the audience and can change the frequency and color contrast to minimize risk for photosensitive audiences.
Tyler Price was very much a case study. Because we had heard from researchers early on, we approached this production with empathetic design from the start.
KRISTIN | Jamie Roderick [Tyler Price's lighting designer] talked to EpiArts to get all that information and research. Jamie created the show to be light sensitive and it still had gorgeous lighting cues.
MAXX | Jamie's work was insane. It was gorgeous and it was safe for all audience members. Jamie and the team made sure to include detailed signs in the theatres of the exact flashing light cues and scenes. They went beyond the "Flashing Light Warning" sign that is standard practice in theatre. That's a core mission of EpiArts, to provide audiences access to understand the potential risk ahead of attending a show.
This process of empathetic design and implementing safer lighting practices with Tyler Price proved that it can be done, and you still have all of the storytelling pieces there. My niece came and watched the show three times. One of those times she sat in what could be potentially the most triggering seat in line with a particular light. To watch my sister sit next to my niece and never have to shield Anzii from any cues...they could both watch the show. It just shows that it's possible.
KRISTIN | We also had a sensory sensitive performance where we also looked at the other elements—sound, conversation with the audience—those kind of things. While photosensitivity is often focused specifically on light and visual triggers, we took a holistic approach that considered the full sensory landscape of the production. For that performance, we lowered the overall volume, softened sudden sound cues, and worked with the cast on respecting there were no jarring vocal spikes that might be jarring. We also communicated clearly with the audience about what to expect and made space for movement and vocalization during the performance. Our goal was to preserve the emotional integrity of the show while adjusting the delivery to be more accessible.
Has your work with EpiArts and Tyler Price shifted how you approach your craft?
KRISTIN | An undercurrent that developed in the show was being willing to talk about things that are challenging, even if we don't have language for them yet. The creative team learned how to do that together, asking each other, "What do I need in order to feel safe in this space? Can we make an inclusive space for each other?" When it was okay to ask for our needs to be met, we discovered that we could create a process that felt good to all of us, but we have to learn how to talk about our needs first, even if we don't know how to name them.
The process has become so important to me. I want to make sure that it's nurturing for myself and my collaborators, the team, to create something sustainable. It has to feel good in my body. That has profoundly shifted for me. The work is integrated with a deep internal listening.
MAXX | It has changed the way I choose projects. I decided to go and be a part of this show so that I could make something my niece would be proud of. It's made my filter for the things I want to do with my time much finer. I now know that it's possible to keep creating while making sure that the work aligns with things I would like to teach, experience, or grow in, and I get to be beside people that I can learn from, love, and respect.
It has changed the way I interact with people in the room. It has changed—from a technical standpoint—what I think is necessary in order to make something interesting. Some of the most effective things in this show were the simplest. I'm going to trust that more for the rest of my career.
Kristin Hanggi is best known for directing the smash hit Rock of Ages, for which she received a Tony nomination for Best Direction of a Musical. Other directing credits include the original productions of the pop opera Bare (Hudson Theatre); Accidentally Brave (Off-Broadway); Clueless (The New Group); and Romy and Michele's High School Reunion (Seattle 5th Avenue).
Maxx Reed is a multi-genre movement artist and educator, choreographer, director, and multi-medium filmmaker. With the art of movement, theatre, and filmmaking, Maxx aims to show compassion through choreography and creative collaboration—emphasizing his role as a dance educator and multi-platform storyteller.
What (and How) I Learned with Oz Scott
In my role as Columns Editor for SDC Journal, I wroked with director Oz Scott for the What I Learned column, which highlights directors and choreographers sharing lessons learned over the course of their careers. This was published in the Fall 2025 issue of the magazine.
I have carried on the tradition of my father in the entertainment business. He was a preacher—a good one. I joke about it but there is a lot of truth in it. Our jobs are very similar: to make you think, to make you laugh, and to help you to enjoy life. My father was very important to my development as an artist and person. As well as being a preacher, he was a teacher. He taught all the new students that came to Chapel Hill from 1946 to 1959—the imams, priests, rabbis, and ministers. He was an early pioneer in using television cameras for classes. There is a picture in the February 1953 issue of Ebony Magazine of him teaching with one of the big old, bulky cameras.
My style of directing is probably very similar to his. I tell stories when I'm working. For me, telling stories is a way of connecting the actors to who they are, what they should be feeling, and what's going on in the characters' world. Both my father and my mother were inspirations to me. My mother got her master's degree at Teacher's College at Columbia University back in the '50s. She took television/film classes. As a child I remember her talking about cutting film, camera angles, and how long a scene should be.
My mother also took me to see plays. She took me to the closing night of a play on Broadway when I was a kid. It was called A Hand Is on the Gate, a collection of poems and songs that Roscoe Lee Browne had put together to create a Broadway musical. In some ways, it helped contribute to the development of for colored girls, because for colored girls is basically a collection of great poems with a fabulous cast. A Hand Is on the Gate also had a spectacular cast: Cicely Tyson, Moses Gunn, James Earl Jones, Ellen Holly, Gloria Foster, Josephine Premisse, Leon Bibbs, and of course Roscoe. Watching those brilliant actors transform those poems, all of them became friends and inspirations to me. For years, when I'd walk by an old record store I'd look for a copy of Hand Is on the Gate to replace the copy that had worn out. I always thanked Roscoe for that early inspiration.
Another important period in my development as an artist was when I was 19. I was working for a company called Living Stage in Washington, DC, founded by Robert Alexander at Arena Stage. Living Stage was an improvisational theatre company where we went into prisons, halfway houses, daycares, community centers, and schools, performing for kids one day, inmates the next, then a rehab center the next day. I was the stage manager and utility actor when needed. I kept the production going, and gave notes when the director wasn't there. Giving notes for improvisational theatre is different than a play because you're not saying, "This line is wrong. Your blocking was off." My notes were, "I didn't feel it." "I don't know that you made that transition." "Where'd that come from?" "You weren't really in it." That experience very much contributed to who I am as a director today.
We did eight weeks of improvisational theatre rehearsals and then three on the road, six days a week, going from school to school, place to place, prison to prison. So much was inspiring coming out of those performances of Living Stage that we would say, "Every story can have more than one ending." We would get almost to the end and say to the audience, "Okay, how do you want to see this end?" Or, "What else would you like to see?" We'd do two or three different endings. It helped hone my storytelling tremendously because I'm always thinking about what are the other stories? How could it end?
Another significant part of my directing growth came when I took acting classes. I'm not an actor, but I would take acting classes because it made me see, understand, and remember the actor's tools. One time I had this wonderful actor who had one line. It was not a big line, but he couldn't do it. He kept stumbling over it. It's always said that one line is as difficult as 20. So, I went to the side, and I acted it out for him. When I did that, I realized it was a tongue twister. I said, "Oh, it just needs a tweak here. Just a word here, and it'll be great." So I say sometimes: take an acting class. Step outside of your comfort zone.
Oz Scott is an accomplished director of theatre, television, and film. He was integral to the development of Ntozake Shange's for colored girls who have considered suicide/when the rainbow is enuf and directed productions of the play at New Federal Theatre, The Public Theater, and on Broadway. Scott continues to direct regionally and internationally, most recently a production of Intimate Apparel at Arizona Theatre Company.
65 for the 65th
Goal: Celebrate the 65th anniversary of the Stage Directors and Choreographers Society by highlighting 65 directors and choreographers whose work inspired SDC Members and transformed the American theatre. Increase social media engagement and raise the profile of SDC and its Members.
Role: Strategic leadership, project management, graphic design, writing, and research.
Audience: SDC Membership directors and choreographers, industry leaders.
Tactics: Member nomination program including committee leadership, social media campaign on Instagram and Facebook featuring written profiles and Member stories, print publication and distribution to 2,000+ Members and industry leaders.
Impact: Increased Instagram impressions (total times content was viewed) by 346% while maintaining 4-5% engagement rate (industry average 1-3%), with 66% more total engagements (total times people actually took action), Media coverage in Playbill and Broadway World, increased Member engagement, inspiration, and solidarity.
65 for the 65th celebrated the 65th anniversary of the Stage Directors and Choreographers Society by highlighting 65 SDC Members—directors and choreographers who transformed the American theatre—in a year-long social media campaign and print publication.
65 for the 65th included a photo and brief bio of each of the selected artists along with a tribute from another SDC Member, as well as a special “Founder’s Circle” highlighting three SDC Members without whom the Union would not exist. The featured artists were among more than 500 directors and choreographers nominated by SDC’s Membership. The full list of nominees was rigorously considered by a cross-section of SDC Members, with seven rounds of voting before the final honorees were selected.
Social Media Campaign
See it on Instagram
Publication
Read the full publication
Agnes de Mille, page excerpted from 65 for the 65th.
Rachel Chavkin, page excerpted from 65 for the 65th.
Innovations by Kristjan Thor
In my role as Columns Editor for SDC Journal, I edited Kristjan Thor ‘s piece for the Innovations column, which highlights directors and choreographers _________. This was published in the Fall 2024 issue of the magazine.
The word “immersive” often confuses me. It’s hard to define. It’s very buzzy right now and although I hear it being bandied about, I often wonder how many of us have a clear definition of what immersive really means—especially as it relates to theatre, right now. I don’t say that to be mysterious or edgy; I say it because the fact that is it difficult to pin down is exactly the reason I am drawn to it.
My first experience directing something (intentionally) immersive was a modern “horror” adaptation of Maeterlinck’s The Blind in which I put audience members in the hull of a boat on the Hudson, in March, where ice flows scraped the outside of the boat. It was freezing, and we gave audience members parkas and blankets. The actors wore blinding contacts and memorized their blocking by feeling the rivets on the steel floor through their many layers of socks.
After the performance ended, we served the audience a meal consisting of only off-white risottos—all different in flavor but not in look. They were served in communal bowls. Thousands of clean spoons sat at the ready so audience members would take one bite and then retire their spoons, which meant everyone was eating together in a glorious primitive ritual. We drank cheap champagne, and everyone talked about the show—with the actors, with the designers, and most importantly, with each other.
Needless to say, after that experience I was hooked. Directing and producing The Blind (with my longtime creative partner, Josh Randall) became a totem for gauging what excites me, theatrically. The goal became to create affecting events in which the audience’s experience began the moment they pre-ordered the ticket.
At one point, we went so far as to use an automated call/text/email service, the kind that is used by pollsters and consumer reporting services, to send cryptic messages teasing the experience. Direct and bold audience engagement became my new mantra.
Over the last 20 years, I’ve directed plays, feature films, commercials, and events, as well as co-created Blackout, a long-running extreme-fear experience. Many of these gigs have been quite “classical” in their conception: from fourth wall sit-downs to activations at Comic Con. Many less so: from deeply intimate plays in a basement for micro audiences to filling a brownstone with conceptual art and tens of thousands of discarded toy dolls. There is, however, always a desire to give the work a feeling of being all-encompassing, regardless of the genre.
When I study up on the theatremakers of the past hundred years, I immediately see that immersive has long been with us, it just wasn’t articulated as such. One thing that has changed is what working “immersively” means in today’s media landscape. The live experience continues to become more rarefied and scarce as screens and augmented reality move to the front of our daily lives. I don’t bemoan this change; in fact, I see many creators capitalizing on it and doing wonderful things with this new technology.
I do, however, hope that it will make the personal and intimate ability that is inherent in immersive theatre stand out as necessary in the world. Simple and personal gestures will begin to mean so much more in a theatrical experience: sitting alone with an artist intimately whispering their story to me, drifting into the suspended belief that we are the only two people in the world at that moment; being surprised when an actor’s hand is laid gently on my shoulder, both comforted and challenged by its presence; standing in a room that collapses into perfect and total darkness, left only with my thoughts, both terrified and exhilarated.
These are examples of some of the microcosmic moments that have stood out to me as simple, elegant examples of what immersive events can afford our audience. It’s not rocket science, but working with actors and designers to make these experiences present and necessary is what allows the aforementioned moments to stand out.
One thing I’ve come to understand is that performing in an intimate immersive piece requires a whole different set of skills than being on stage. Often actors who have worked with me “experientially” say it can be hard to go back to the stage because the feedback from the audience is not immediate, as it often is in immersive events. Sometimes actors can quite literally feel the audience react. That type of interactivity can be intoxicating.
With AI set to supercharge the output of consumable media, I think these live, human-driven experiences I’ve been describing will become more and more valuable. It is precisely because these types of events are not scalable that they resonate with audiences. Immersive theatre may also be an ideal foil to our relationship to our “personal devices,” ironically, because it is just that: personal.
Kristjan Thor is a critically acclaimed director of film, theatre, and immersive experiences based in New York. Over the course of a 22-year career, he has directed and produced two feature films and many theatre, short film, and video projects that have been recognized internationally.
Theatrical Passports with Arnaldo Galban
In my role as Columns Editor for SDC Journal, I interviewed director Arnaldo Galban for the Theatrical Passports column, which highlights directors and choreographers ______. This was published in the Spring/Summer 2024 issue of the magazine.
In a conversation with SDC Journal, SDC Associate Member Arnaldo Galban spoke about his experience with theatre and directorial style in Cuba, where he was born and began his career as an actor and director, and in the US, where he recently completed a Stage Directors and Choreographers Foundation Observership with director Saheem Ali on his production of Buena Vista Social Club at Atlantic Theater Company. Buena Vista Social Club dramatizes the making of the beloved Cuban album of the same name, following the stories of a group of veteran musicians as they record the classic songs. The show was Galban’s first experience with professional theatre in the United States.
What is the theatre scene like in Cuba?
In Cuba, we have so many talented artists but all the cultural institutions, all the venues, belong to the government, which means they’re paying your salary and they’re producing your plays. They can attend performances before opening night, watch what you’re doing, and decide if you’re opening or not.
Independent theatre is illegal in Cuba, because that means you’re doing theatre with your money, so the government can’t censor it. You can’t do theatre outside the institutions, and you can’t sell tickets. The government won’t say, “Oh, we don’t allow independent arts in Cuba,” but they will make sure that you can’t make independent theatre.
I had friends doing that work. They were put in jail, or they were threatened. It’s a very difficult environment if you want to be a free thinker and create something. Which is crazy, because the Cuban Revolution has invested so much money in cultural things in Cuba. You can go to a cinema for a few cents, or you can buy a book and it’s less than a dollar. Everything that’s cultural in Cuba is so affordable. They’re giving culture to the people, and at the same time asking you not to use your brain, which is so confusing.
As a young artist, you’re very confused, but also it gives you that kind of rebel spirit that says, “Oh, you don’t want me to do that? Now I’m going to do that, and I don’t care if I’m not making money.” It’s beautiful; you do it because you really want to do it, because you love it.
What was your directing experience like there?
I was directing, I was designing, I was building the lights. I learned that from one of my favorite teachers and theatre directors in Cuba, Nelda Castillo. She made everything in the theatre with her hands. I learned that from her. I built lights with tomato cans. I built whole electricity systems. It was an adventure.
What was your concept of a director then?
In Cuba, we don’t have a place where you can study directing. You can study as a playwright, a designer, an actor, a critic, but not a director. Almost all the directors I worked with in Cuba learned to direct by trial and error while they were actors in a very important company called Teatro Buendía and the director there supervised their processes.
Those directors inherited skills from her, but they also inherited her style. In Cuba, the director has the last word on everything. They tell people what to do all the time. That happens everywhere in Cuba: in your house with your dad, in all different kinds of work environments. But in theatre, they use a very tyrannical style. That’s the way I grew up, seeing these directors call actors names or humiliate them in front of the rest of the company. I think we inherited that because of politics in Cuba. Our authority model is, “If you are not with me, you’re against me. You’re the enemy.”
I learned a lot from the directors I worked with there, and I will always be grateful for that. But I think in Cuba, no one realizes we’re following a model or a style that is against creativity. Especially with theatre; it’s such a communal art. And I think that’s what I saw here with Saheem Ali on Buena Vista Social Club. In America, you are in a creative process, and you are co-creating with all these people that are part of the creative team.
How was Saheem’s style of directing different from your previous experience watching directors work?
Well, first of all, Saheem is so kind. He learned my name. He said hi to everyone. He took time to acknowledge that we were present in the room. He even took time to unite the company and have everyone introduce themselves, and ask, “How did you arrive here?” and “What is your connection with the material?” I saw people hopping up and sharing deep and emotional stuff, because he was able to create this environment that made people feel safe to share.
That’s him, that’s who he is as a person. The people he feels comfortable working with are also people with this style. They are very human, and humble.
Saheem also considered other people’s ideas. If he was talking about something, and he had an idea, and then someone suddenly realized, “Oh, there is this way of doing this,” he was able to say, “Oh, yes, let’s try that.” My previous experience with other directors was that they respond to other people’s ideas with, “Oh, I didn’t have that idea. I know it’s amazing, but I won’t say that, because that means you are more creative than me, and I can’t put my work at risk.” Saheem was able to be open and say, “Let’s try that,” and the show got richer and richer.
Does that style inform how you think about making work now?
The way I will approach the next thing will be different thanks to the experience I had with Saheem. I would love to imitate his style of inclusive directing, listening to everyone, being humble, that kind of thing.
I feel lucky to meet people who are showing me there’s a different way to be a star and a different way of being a talented director, and that doesn’t mean you feel you are above everyone.
Arnaldo Galban is a director, actor, and acting coach based in New York City.
Theatrical Passports with Garry Hynes
In my role as Columns Editor for SDC Journal, I interviewed director Garry Hynes for the Theatrical Passports column, which highlights directors and choreographers ______. This was published in the Winter 2024 issue of the magazine.
Druid Theatre’s DruidO’Casey project included three Sean O’Casey plays—The Plough and the Stars, The Shadow of a Gunman, and Juno and the Paycock—in marathon performances in New York City and Michigan in fall 2023. The plays, commonly known as the Dublin Trilogy, were originally written separately and staged individually in the 1920s at Dublin’s Abbey Theatre. Garry Hynes, Druid Theatre’s Co-Founder and Artistic Director and the director of DruidO’Casey, chose to stage them chronologically, in order of the dramatic events depicted—which span 1915–1922 and encompass Ireland’s Easter Rising, War of Independence, and Civil War—rather than in the sequence that they were written. While audiences were able to see individual plays on separate nights, the project was conceived and designed as one marathon production, to be experienced as one play in three parts.
While O’Casey’s plays, now considered Irish classics, are often treated naturalistically, Druid’s production design leaned into the theatricality of both the marathon event and O’Casey’s language and sensibility. Hynes’s direction highlighted moments that felt heightened, performative, and sometimes surreal.
What did the decision to stage the plays in chronological order teach you about them?
I’ve done two O’Casey productions in my career before this, and one of the things that’s always worried me a bit about the plays is that unless one does a very modern production or a production totally removed from O’Casey’s ground plans or the period, then you’re forced back into this world of the Georgian tenement or the Georgian House. Knowledge of it has slipped away with time and as a result, the signaling has gone very wrong, because living in a distressed Georgian room would now be only the recourse of the wealthy. I think that because we were doing the three plays together, I felt able to take the decision to set them in a world that didn’t have to go for those set of references because we had a better chance of creating our own world.
A number of things became clear as we really got into rehearsals. Because the plays—to our knowledge, and as much as we could research—have never been seen together, one after the other, they tend to be swapped out one for the other, or certainly Juno and Plough do. And it became very clear as we worked on them how detailed O’Casey’s use of the historic detail of the time was, to distinguish each play. The detail of the historic events fed into the domestic events in a way that I just was in awe of: the craftsmanship of that. A suspicion that I had—that the plays were first, haunted plays, and second of all, plays that haunted each other—very much affected me in the making of it.
How did you and your design team approach the monumental task of designing three separate plays into one marathon production?
I knew that we were going to more or less follow O’Casey’s ground plan, and I knew we were going to use the profile of the costumes. So then it became really a question of what material to use, what was the nature of the room?
O’Casey is often called naturalistic, but more and more, I don’t find that word useful to describe his work. His work is so performative, so it started to make sense to consciously acknowledge its performativeness by using flats, stage weights, and those kinds of references.
The use of color in the costume pieces (by set and costume designer Francis O’Connor and co-costume designer Clíodhna Hallissey) was striking.
We knew that we weren’t going to go for documentary realism, and I talked a lot about the need to be able to completely embrace the performative aspects: the music hall, the broad comedy, the ability to go from tragedy one second—I mean, [the character of] Bessie Burgess [in Plough], also our Juno, has to die at the end of the play—but I didn’t want that to stop us from absolutely bringing the characters to vivid life. Some of that thinking influenced us to go for a color range that would not necessarily have been available at that time. Say something like Nora’s yellow dress [in Plough]. It’s stunning. She would not have worn something like that. But that’s part of the conscious sense of “this is going to be as theatrical as we think O’Casey was in creating these plays.”
O’Casey wrote such beautiful female characters, who you clearly also have such respect for.
When I think of it, all I can think of is O’Casey’s dedication, I think it’s in Plough, to his mother, where he says, “To the gay laugh of my mother at the gate of the grave.” which I think is rather beautiful and wonderful and sums it up... It’s a wonderful celebration.
I think some of his celebration of women comes from the fact that—I don’t know if he ever said it—but that he was so aware of the awfulness of individuals’ lives and that in some way the women, while they worked incredibly hard and were so poor and so on, they still had a central place in life as mothers of their children, as rearers of a family. Whereas the men, as victims of the capitalist economy, really had so little of anything to give them dignity or a sense of purpose. Somehow I tend to feel that O’Casey felt that too.
How do you think O’Casey’s legacy reverberates in modern Irish literature and theatre? Are there playwrights that you feel are working in O’Casey’s vein?
Let’s put it like this, I don’t think they are, unless they’ve been influenced by O’Casey. Writers who write about Dublin or write urban plays and/or use a Dublin accent can easily be referenced to O’Casey. But what O’Casey does—and working on the plays like this made feel this even more—his influences were extraordinary. He was very much influenced by the music hall. He was influenced by the Irish theatre that he saw, and then the use of music, the use of language—obviously J.M. Synge would’ve been an influence of some kind. Then there was his work at the Abbey Theatre and whatever sort of influence that was to work with those actors on a consistent basis. I just think what he came up with, which has become—people use the word “O’Casey-like” or whatever, which can seem very hackneyed—I think he was extraordinary, extraordinary as a writer.
Garry Hynes is the Co-Founder and Artistic Director of Druid Theatre in Ireland and was previously Artistic Director of the Abbey Theatre, Ireland’s national theatre. In 1998, she became the first woman to win the Tony Award for Best Direction of a Play, for Martin McDonagh’s The Beauty Queen of Leenane.
Diversify NYC’s Housing Stock
I edited this blog post by Yvette Chen, Program Manager for The Center for NYC Neighborhoods, in April 2023.
Goal: Raise awareness of alternative housing models in NYC.
Role: Editor. I collaborated with Yvette and the program management team to specify the focus of the blog and ensure the writing was accessible and focused on our audience and the piece was designed for Medium’s blog format, and I worked with Yvette to choose relevant images that kept the audience’s attention.
Audience: NYC policy-makers and homeowners looking for alternative solutions to the NYC housing crisis.
The Problem: Black Homeowners Are Leaving NYC
As costs of living, and owning a home, continue to rise, Black homeowners are struggling to stay in New York City. We see it over and over again in news coverage, and from Black homeowners who reach out to the Center for NYC Neighborhoods looking for guidance as they fight to keep their homes.
We see evidence of this frequently, in the stories of homeowners who call our Homeowner Hub. There is a homeowner from the Bronx, who lost her income and fell behind on her mortgage payments struggling to keep her home. Another homeowner in Queens wants to pass her home on to her loved ones in the future but doesn’t know how to do so. Then there’s a homeowner in Kings County, whose loss of income caused her to fall behind on her water bills and the home repairs she needs. The specific issues vary, but the underlying challenge is the same — New York City homeowners are struggling, and we need solutions.
Solution: Alternative Housing Models
Many existing approaches to the housing crisis do not address the growing trends in the decline of homeownership and the loss of permanent affordable housing in communities of color. One solution: alternative housing models that specifically aim to combat racial disparities in affordable homeownership, including community-controlled purchase policies, community land trusts (CLTs), and limited equity co-ops. These approaches preserve existing housing, create permanent affordability, and remove housing from the speculative market. These shared equity housing models also foster community, long-term affordability, and the opportunity to build generational wealth for communities that have been shut out for too long.
Solution: Community-Controlled Purchase Policies
Tenant and Community Controlled Opportunity to Purchase policies map, PolicyLink
Tenant and community opportunity to purchase policies are an emerging anti-displacement strategy that lock in affordability and offer an entry into homeownership opportunities to current residents. TOPA, or the Tenant Opportunity to Purchase Act, gives tenants in most residential buildings the first offer and first right of refusal if their landlord decides to sell the building. TOPA was first enacted in Washington, DC in 1980 and since 2002, has preserved over 3,500 homes in the city.
COPA, the Community Opportunity to Purchase Act, complements TOPA by requiring owners of buildings to notify qualified non-profit organizations before listing the property. These organizations have the right of first offer and refusal. TOPA and COPA are gaining traction in areas with highly speculative markets, such as New York City and the Bay Area, because they create a meaningful opportunity to slow down the speed of real estate transactions so that communities can consider their options, and counter neighborhood change and the high costs that can come with gentrification.
Solution: Community Land Trusts
Community Land Trust Directory, from the Center for New Economics
Community Land Trusts (CLTs) are another important piece of the puzzle in buttressing affordability and removing land from the speculative market. In the CLT model, land is owned in common by a CLT, a nonprofit chartered to hold the land in perpetuity. The CLT model is also less risky than the traditional housing market; a study found that during the Great Recession, 82% of seriously delinquent homeowners were able to avoid foreclosure with assistance from the CLT. The CLT movement, which originated from the Black Civil Rights movement, is now one option that, together with the other alternative housing models listed here, can help make homeownership sustainable for Black families.
Solution: Limited Equity Co-ops
Co-op City, NY Daily News
Co-ops are another example of a shared-equity model of homeownership. Co-op residents buy shares in a co-owned building, known as an “equity deposit.” These shares can be sold at either market rate or below market rate in limited-equity co-ops. Currently, co-ops comprise nearly 75% of Manhattan’s apartment stock.
What’s Next for NYC & Alternative Housing Models
NYC has a history of successful use of alternative models, and there’s a lot we can build on. Currently, there are 17 CLTs throughout New York City, including Interboro Community Land Trust, which is one of the Center’s most important partners. Interboro CLT is the only New York City based CLT to focus on permanently affordable homeownership, and their pipeline includes homeownership projects — limited-equity co-ops (LECs) and single-family homes — in Brooklyn, Queens, and The Bronx. Community land trusts like Interboro can benefit those who would otherwise not have the opportunity to become homeowners and help homes maintain their affordability in areas of the city that are rapidly gentrifying.
The Mitchell-Lama program, introduced in 1955, created affordable co-op housing for low- and middle-income households, While nearly 20,000 of the original co-ops have been converted to market rate since 1989, some examples, like Co-op City, still offer long-term affordability to residents.
In order to successfully and meaningfully address housing needs of NYC’s Black community , we need new funding and capacity building mechanisms to support bold structural change in the housing market. Pairing alternative housing models like the ones above with existing popular solutions, like inclusionary zoning, can help NYC produce solutions in homeownership. These alternative models — shared equity models of housing, paired with policies like TOPA/COPA — not only help create permanent affordable housing opportunities, but also further a collective vision that honors our city’s need for housing justice.
Yvette Chen is a program manager for the Center for New York City Neighborhoods.