I am sitting in my living room as I write this. I am surrounded by my sleeping (thank goodness) puppies, Junior and Marsha. (Ok. I could not resist, I named female mascot-in-training, Marsha.) I stay put as long as possible. Otherwise I might wake the angel puppies who will transform into hyper puppies.
It is raining. Raining? Raining in June? Yes. Thank Goodness. Rejuvenating moisture. The fragrance of droplets and flora and life.
I remember when I lived on the marsh on Delaware Bay in a house on stilts. When a storm came in, the water would come up under us. Like today, homebound and homey, I would look out the huge windows at the rain. It was like being sprayed on a tethered boat during a rocking storm.
I am thinking about what keeps a marsh alive? What keeps our The Marsh alive?
If I think of each Marshian, each audience member, each performance’s gesture as a raindrop. If I imagine each ticket, each cookie, each program folded by a volunteer, each question answered by the staff, each new tweet, each Facebook post liked, every dollar donated, every idea attempted, every success, how grateful I am for the million “raindrops” that fall on and sustain our bubbling moist Marsh.
I am also grateful that we can schedule “these raindrops” and that unlike the California climate, The Marsh, a breeding ground for new performance is not in a creative drought. There are so many, many fantastic performances currently in the pipeline, on our stages and moving across the US and beyond-particularly now as we move into the height of Fringe Festival season.
So thank you. Thank you everyone! And please accept our thanks as the performances that grace our stages this week.
All my best,
Founder and Artistic Director