The Showcase

Hecho en Ecuador
July 16, 17, 18, & 19 2009
New York City

Get your tickets HERE!

It's finally here: the culmination of this entire Adventure which began back at that fateful audition in November last year. It screeched and cried without language through the new year, and learned to speak and walk by March and by April, showed signs of clear adulthood. Like a firefly, this longer-than usual theatre project is approaching evening, but not yet--for now the star is still hot as noon! Get a day pass and see us all explode, the supernova of our brief life!

If you don't want a day pass--which I highly recommend because all the shows are great and only 20 mins each!-- the times you can see our group's show are:

Thurs 7/16 (preview) 5-6 pm Richmond Shepard Theatre

Friday 7/17 530-630 pm @ Richmond Shepard Theatre

Sat 7/18 8-1030 pm @ Richmond Shepard Theatre

Sun 7/19 3-4 pm @ Teatro IATI and
5-7 pm @ Richmond Shepard Theatre

Join me in the birth and death--the transformation and transcendence of this extended journey's climax.


THE INSPIRATION:

Postcards From Nuevo New York

. . memory, that ephemeral mist in which recollections dissipate, change, and blend together; at the end of our days it turns out that we have lived only what we can evoke.
-Isabelle Allende

Dear Ecuador,

In a way, you've freed me as you slowly metamorphose into a cell in Memory's rear wing. And as much as I lament that you are no longer free in the present, I take pleasure in the life I can draw from you-- in new moments. Each experience slips into the past and onto a spice rack, which I use in new recipes as I continue to live and eat. I am grateful for the ability to let go of each one and discover them in newer ways yet unknown. I am grateful because though I grow stronger from letting things go, Memory allows us to secretly keep them... Ironically, to truly be free, I must be willing to forget--as our frail minds often do with age. I am not willing. Could I ever endure that kind of letting go--as a Buddhist surrenders desire? I think I have surrendered enough to Memory. And now, I surrender to New York . . . so that you might live a little longer: so that I can live now with all the ingredients to eat for a lifetime, Ecuadorian style when I choose . . .

Side note to the gods: when I die, please, bury me with pictures and chocolate!

xx Jennifer xx

Dear New York,

At a distance you prod me. You inspire me. I felt this always from Brooklyn Bridge or from the Promenade, but living in Astoria, I now realize I live in a magnificent place with a stunning panorama, from which I can absorb your across-the-water ecstasy: Astoria Park--and without the expense and traffic of Brooklyn Heights. Last week I trespassed across the Triborough Bridge (now RFK), a desolate, magnificent stretch of steel leading me along a Via Sacra to a North American Rome. I saw Twelfth Night in the park the next day; watching Shakespeare always "pricks the sides of my intent". . . Oh if only there were a bridge to my destiny that I could follow. Prick me, prod me; help me see through the clouds! Show me how to build a bridge . . .

xo J

PS The moon is full again tonight--first time since Mindo. The Sacagawean dollar rose-- by perceptible degrees as we rehearsed for the Ecuador Showcase on Kathleen's rooftop overlooking the ESB. . . truly, truly lucky to be alive and to share the moon --and life-- with ye.


Dear Jennifer,

I am undgergoing a radical perspective shift. I'm filled with a renewed sense of wonder since returning from Ecuador and resisting the idea of being caged in New York again. I'm allowing it to catch me now . . . no ants in my pants to leave. Fine. Take, me. I'll sit for a bit. Isn't that why I came here? Actually, I am free. I'm free to decide how to see it. I'm free to change my perspective. The bridges help me see that, and it is my mission to follow them all. They're fixed but full of exit energy . . . these iron trajectories inspire me. They inspire me as much as the trees do, and I've always been drawn to them. I am finally beginning to fulfill a long-standing promise to this place: "I am going to walk all over your streets and bridges. I am going to dance the hell out of you and find passion to live by . . . passion that will continue to inspire and teach and bring opportunities to me--the adventures that are all around and waiting to be made." To promise, you have to stand still, or you can't even take yourself seriously. I am one of the most uncommitted and indecisive people I know. But it feels good to make a choice--for a little bit. Anyway, it's not like I can't dance in one spot; I came back from hot South American winter into a hot North American summer; there is pleasure in the city too! I'm sideways and wearing an old pair of shoes like a new hat. Emerson would be proud. You should be too.

Love,

Yourself

... and Love Yourself!

Postcard to Bumble and Bumble

Bumble and Bumble
415 W 13th St
New York, NY 10014
USA

Dear Kristin, Lauren, and Talented Artists,

Did you think that after your creative work shaping, styling and nourishing my hair that I would thank you for your support for helping me get to Ecuador by doing THIS to my hair????? It's almost commedia. At least you'd be proud that I didn't wash my hair for days (if not weeks) while abroad. Well, even if you aren't inspired by this lovely trend, rest assured I am no longer sporting this look on the streets of NY. Thank you for helping me repair the damages incurred by the Equatorial sun and shampoo . . . I can't promise it won't happen again!

xo Jennifer

Postcard to My Followers around the World

El Mundo
London, Canada, Japan, Australia, Europe--from the Equator to the Meridian
Earth, Milky Way, Infinity

Dear Lovers and Fellows in Wanderlust,

Let's take a moment to say--nothing, but feel what we feel . . .

"Silence is the perfectest herald of joy. I were but little happy if I could say as much". I have learned: be open, obey passion, hear instinct, love your body, respect the Earth, connect with each other, be grateful each second. The same power of standing above the laguna in Quilotoa exists in a production of Titus Andronicus on the Globe stage in London, in a sudden kiss, in the brown ale of a Richmond pub on the Thames, in the jubilee dancing to Sam Cooke's soul. Inspiration comes in many forms--passion? inspiration? magnetism? Know it when you feel it. Take it, use it, love like it. Love is all that matters. It comes in many forms. Know it when you feel it. Take it, use it, follow it.

Namaste,

One with Poor Hands and Rich Eyes, and a Scarlet Heart

Postcard to My Followers in NY

"Home"
Astoria, Brooklyn, Manhattan
New York, New York
USA

Dear Ye, with the hum of the city under your skin,

This place gets under your skin too. I don't want to come back. No offense, but I have been writing, teaching, and acting without a second thought for anything else. I've been doing everything I love --something you enable but somehow don't allow me to do. . . I'm talking to you, NY. But to my compadres within your walls, I send you a snapshot of the buildings unlike ours. This "graffiti" is how the country campaigns for the candidates at large. A particular village supports a particular man, who has a number and then slogans are painted on the sides of their houses nestled in sloping mountain-sides. Occasionally a fedora and red cloak disappear into the green folds of earth. Panoramas are peopled and unpeopled. Who is voting, I wonder? I am hypnotized and my mouth is agape, slowly filling with the mud of fertile Andean fields.

With thanks and inspiration,

Jennifer

Postcard to My Followers in Hawai'i

"Home"
Honolulu, Pearl City, Hawai'i
USA

Dear Everyone,

Look! Slippas! I feel so at home! I ride in truckbeds like highschool days, but this time, I stand up and hold onto the roof as we speed under the sun and stars. Here travelers from Poland feel the Aloha of the island way and of our group of 5 women . . . No sashimi but lots of tilapia. Plenny rice but covered in beans. Not lilikoi, but fruitas de la passion. Same same. Surfers have the same passion. People have the same rhythm. Sun has the same heat. The cockaroaches are bigga and Sea Lions not dogs bark on the beach. It's so blue. It would take me 20 days to sail to you. People here dream of the North Shore. No rubbish. So clean.

Mahalos,

Kenipala

Postcard to Exhale Spa

Exhale Spa
150 central park south
NY, NY 10019
USA

Dear Laina, Richie, Fred, Elizabeth and so many more...

I've never been more present in all my life than I am now. Moving to the city in America that tends to be everywhere ahead of this moment, has brought me to an oasis of presence: Exhale and its mission to unite the mind and body, DAT and it's mission for dramatic adventure. I remember the very reason I came to New York when I think of you both, and presently, I am grateful. Thank you for supporting my own mission and passion. The spa is a gift in so many ways that I will do my utmost to make sure I tell as many city vagabonds as I can about the strength and values I've experienced first hand working for you. I'm sending you this to share yet another moment with you.

With a giant exhale (truly),

Jennifer