Somewhat Reflections

I don’t think we realized. I didn’t, anyway. I was so busy memorizing lines and churning out essays and falling in love that I didn’t see it. Or maybe I was just too young to really understand.

Four years.

Four whole years of living in community and making art together.

With nothing but shoestring budgets and a gargantuan sense of self-importance (and heaps of privilege - we went to Queen’s for F’s sake - plus the help of teachers and mentors), we made so much theatre together 25 years ago. We also went to classes, and we partied, but most of the time we made theatre because it was important to us and that’s what we were there to do.

Some of it was amazing. Some of it was awful. And it mattered. The theatre we made was intense and beautiful and messy and serious and silly and it meant something and it mattered.

At the centre of all of this intense theatre-making were the same objectives: to learn, to grow, and to have fun. We weren’t trying to make money, or garner critical acclaim, or build up a professional arts practice, or sustain a vulnerable sector, or support a family, or whatever. We were trying to learn and grow and have fun. It was as simple as that.

What a gift those four years were. What a blessing.

I probably never said as much out loud but I think, in my gut, I thought on some level it would be like this forever. I’d found my people and we would workshop oneanother’s weird scripts and play awkward improv games and survive Q2Qing three-and-a-half-hour-long shows for all of our live-long days forever and ever. Amen.

But that’s not how things turned out. I mean, of course they didn’t.

It’s no secret that this reunion was born out of my “midlife renaissance project” (trademark pending), at least in part. It’s been a tough five years - not just for me but for everyone - and I’m on a quest to find light in the darkness and set the stage for a very meaningful and purposeful next chapter in the story of my life. Of our lives.

I asked almost everyone I spoke to this weekend the central question of the renaissance project: “How are you nurturing your creative spirit and exercising your artistry in mid-life?” and I heard a lot of amazing answers.

Some of you are working professionally in the arts which is super rad. This was me until about a year and a half ago when exhaustion and burnout finally forced me to take a break (and I know I’m not alone in this experience unfortunately). Some of you feel really creatively activated in your non-theatre jobs which is also super cool. The teachers among us are still living in this world in some ways which I find really inspiring, although I’m sure these folks are experiencing their share of exhaustion and burnout as well.

Many of you answered like I would have. You are asking these kinds of questions right now too. You are hungry for some more theatre in your life but of course you’re not going to quit your job and order new headshots or anything. You are looking to access some of those “old feelings” but in new ways. You are keen to learn and to grow in this phase of the journey like you did when you were younger. You’d also like to have some more fun, but unsure of how to make it all happen. Also, you’re tired and stretched in a million different directions right now.

Me too, friends, me too.

But, I’m nothing if not relentlessly determined (see “Somewhat Reunion”) so let’s keep the conversation going and see where it takes us.

I had a few lightbulb moments over the course of our time together this weekend that I wanted to share with you. One was watching an old friend rocking out in the band on Saturday night. Like, this person has a day job and a family and all the rest, but look at him really feeling that music and making the magic happen up there.

Another was chatting with an old pal who auditioned for an amateur production of Mamma Mia after years of not performing and ended up being cast as the lead. The way her eyes sparked when she talked about getting out on stage again gave me goosebumps.

A third was seeing a dear friend in real life whose very purposeful exploration of amateur theatre and creative conversation I follow online from afar with envy and awe. She seemed really grounded and happy.

Maybe there’s something out there like this for me? For us?

Theatre is tricky, though. I know you know this but it bears repeating that, unlike so many other art forms, you can’t do theatre alone. If I studied painting in school and I wanted to paint again, I would just pick up some supplies from the art store and set aside some space and time and make it happen. But, not with theatre. I need other people to make theatre. And not just any people. I need people who are going to take it quite seriously but also, like, not too seriously.

At the end of Sunday night’s program - post-Oil Thigh and pre-fireworks - another dear friend from days of ‘ol said something along the lines of:

“Now that we’re all connected again, we can stay connected; we can be connected.”

I think he was talking about leveraging the website and the Discord to be in touch and share about what we’re up to, which are great ideas, but I wonder if there’s something more?

The planning committee has a post-mortem scheduled in a week and what’s next is definitely on the agenda. Maybe we’ll have another reunion someday. Maybe not. Who knows, maybe next time we’ll even put on a show. Maybe not. Maybe you also have ideas about what, if anything, should be next. We want to hear all the ideas.

But, in the meantime, I just want to say that if you’re getting a book club style group together to read plays out loud and talk about them (over Zoom), I’m interested. If you’ve got a new script you’ve been working on and you need actors for a readthrough (over Zoom), I’m interested. If you want to get some fellow theatre kids together to talk group-therapy style about how to navigate this difficult life we’re living (over Zoom), I’m interested. Heck, I would probably even travel to be a part of something you’re working on in person if it made sense. All of this to say, I’m interested.

In closing:

Before heading to Kingston last week, I had dinner in Toronto with non-Queen’s non-drama friend. I learned that her kid is super into sports which is funny because she’s a musician and her husband is an architect/visual artist and they don’t know anything about sports. A few years back, they moved from one neighbourhood to another and discovered that there was no soccer team or club or anything in the area, much to the disappointment of their then 8-year-old.

So what did he do?

This 8-year-old kid put up posters all over the neighbourhood that read, “Who wants to play soccer with me?”, and over 50 people responded. For the last three years, he’s been playing two pick-up games a week with amateur soccer players of all ages and having an absolute ball.

He was 8.

I’m 44.

So…

“Who wants to make theatre with me?”

Kate Hodgert, Class of 2002, Somewhat Founder

P.S. Thank you all so much for a deeply meaningful and hilarious few days together “walking the halls” of our past lives. Official reunion wrap-up email coming soon.