Aesthetically Speaking: Natalie Hurdle

This week’s interview is with Natalie Hurdle, co-founder of Strange Bedfellows Theatre here in Chicago, a new company just putting down roots in the city. I’m excited to see what productions come next. Thanks for sharing, Natalie!

What is your name and city of residence?
My name is Natalie Hurdle and I live in Chicago.

What medium do you work in?
I work in the theatre–I am a co-founder and ensemble member of Strange Bedfellows Theatre, and I also work at Piven Theatre Workshop.

How often do you work on your art–is it a full-time endeavor or something you work on in your spare time?
That’s an interesting question to answer as a young artist–as Strange Bedfellows continues to grow, I hope that one day it can be my one and only job. In the meantime, I work in arts management at Piven to pay my bills and learn how to run my own theatre company. Even when I’m not actively in rehearsals or meetings, I feel I’m learning and preparing and garnering new resources for my work.

Fire Island by Strange Bedfellows

Natlie Hurdle and Jen Westervelt in Strange Bedfellows' "Fire Island"

How does art fit into your life, in general? Is it something you think about and talk about every day, or every week, or only in certain situations, etc.?
Art drives my life. It’s a constant thread in my heart and mind. Almost everything I experience ends up informing my work in one way or another. Every day, artists make the decision to keep creating–a decision that can require considerable compromises and sacrifices when it comes to personal relationships, financial security, and all the other messes in life.

On the other hand, I think to be a great artist, you need to have a life outside of art, otherwise you have nothing new to bring to what you create. Your art is richer and fuller when you step outside of your art bubble and splash around in the world and bump into other people. And there are definitely nights when I have a beer with a friend to talk about anything BUT theatre. We all need time to rejuvenate–making art can be exhausting.

When you start on a piece, what kind of end result do you have in mind? Does it get performed or published, put in a permanent form or is it more temporary?
Theatre isn’t theatre if it isn’t shared with an audience–the performers and sets and sound and lights are only half of the equation. The reaction of each different audience changes the show so incredibly. I love how I can see a performance of the same play with the same actors in the same place ten different times and the makeup of the audience alchemically alters the show. One of the things I love about theatre is how very temporary it is. That performance for that audience will never be repeated again, no matter how long the production runs. And you can’t capture the experience.

What goals do you set in relation to your art, both short- and long-term? Is it something you hope to make money doing, or is it something you want to keep uncommercialized? Does the term “sell-out” hold meaning for you or do you see the art/commerce relationship as a necessary one?
I would love to be bringing more money in as an artist so I can put more time and money back into my art. Art is valuable; I see no reason to refuse payment for making it. I don’t believe that I have a super commercial bent as a theatre artist, but finding ways to reach and engage a new audience is something I think theatre artists in particular should be thinking about–and creatively.

Fire Island by Strange Bedfellows

Brooks Applegate and Derrick Marshall in Strange Bedfellows' "Fire Island"

What role does collaboration with others play in your art, if any?
Strange Bedfellows is a very collaborative company. I think the work we do together is stronger and more interesting because it is made by dissimilar people with unique strengths and ideas and a common goal. Strange Bedfellows indeed.

How conscious are you of your artistic influences? Who are your artistic influences?
Very conscious. I read a lot; I see a lot of theatre; and when I feel stuck and uninspired, I go back to the artists who remind me of my passion. Anne Bogart, Paula Vogel, Sarah Ruhl, Mary Louise Parker, not to mention my great teachers–Joan Herrington, Mark Liermann, Jim Daniels, Elizabeth Terrel, and the list goes on.

Since this is a travel blog, how does travel relate to or affect your art? (Themes in what you produce, road trips to perform your music, thoughts on what happens to your painting when you ship it across the country to a customer, etc.)
When I was sixteen, I had the unreal experience of performing at the International Fringe Festival in Edinburgh, Scotland, the largest theatre festival in the world. That sealed the deal for me as an artist. I wanted to make theatre and engage with theatre and connect with other theatre artists and lovers of theatre for the rest of my life. Learning from artists of other backgrounds and cultures and examining the changing contexts in which theatre is made fascinates me. I would love to travel more to do all of that. For now, Chicago is our home base, and I imagine it will be for a long time. Who knows, though?

And finally, a right-brain question: If your art was a map, what would it be a map of?
A map of empathy. A map of magic.

If you are looking for any other information on Strange Bedfellows Theatre, check out our website.

Photos by Daniel Halden Fitzpatrick.

Aesthetically Speaking: Jeannie Miernik

This week’s artist interview was conducted with Jeannie, a writer living in mid-Michigan. Jeannie and I met at Kalamazoo College and studied abroad together in Rome junior year. Jeannie and her husband are raising a gorgeous baby daughter in Lansing, and she’s also writing a novel. I’m definitely impressed with her devotion to the craft, and her blog is a great source of writing tips and ruminations. Thanks for sharing, Jeannie!

What is your name and city of residence?
I’m Jeannie Miernik from Lansing, Michigan.

What medium do you work in?
I am writing a fantasy novel based on European folklore. The working title is Briars and Black Hellebore. On one level, it’s a retelling of fairy tales like many writers have done before, but on another level it’s a story about storytelling itself, about oral and literary traditions and the transmission of culture. It’s about the power of words and narratives to shape our realities. As I work on this novel, I am exploring what I call “metamyth,” the stories behind stories.

How often do you work on your art–is it a full-time endeavor or something you work on in your spare time?
Right now, I am a total guerilla writer. I have a six-month-old baby and two jobs, so I steal minutes here and there to write, only up to a few hours a week. It depends on how long my daughter naps!

Jeannie's workspace

Jeannie's workspace

How does art fit into your life, in general? Is it something you think about and talk about every day, or every week, or only in certain situations, etc.?
Writing is solitary work, but I think about my plot, characters, and word choices every day—in the car, in the shower, during lulls at work, and even in dreams. Films, paintings, architecture, plays, nature, and all kinds of unlikely experiences give me ideas. Although I don’t have much time to sit down and write, I do read about European history and myth at every opportunity. I keep books and articles packed in my breast pump bag and my nightstand. I talk about concepts and interesting stories and history facts all the time with my family and friends. They will probably be bored with everything I’ve learned before I’ve finished my book!

When you start on a piece, what kind of end result do you have in mind? Does it get performed or published, put in a permanent form or is it more temporary?
I would like to see my book published one day. I hope to craft a novel of high enough quality and broad enough appeal to land a contract that could lead to an ongoing fiction writing career. I realize that such publishing deals are going the way of tenured professorships, but they still do exist, and that is my dream.

What goals do you set in relation to your art, both short- and long-term? Is it something you hope to make money doing, or is it something you want to keep uncommercialized? Does the term “sell-out” hold meaning for you or do you see the art/commerce relationship as a necessary one?
In the short term, while I’m caring for a baby, family is my top priority and takes most of my energy. So my goal for the next year or two is just to keep the writing momentum going, adding something to my manuscript every few days.

In the long term, I hope to reach many readers through publication of many novels. I hope to make enough money to support myself in continuing to write fiction—without having to maintain two “day jobs” in the meantime. It would be a great pleasure to reach a large readership who might enjoy my stories and interpret them in different ways.

Selling a work of art is not the same as selling out. I have always understood the term “selling out” to mean compromising a work’s integrity for a profit. But the difference between selling and selling out is complex and subjective. Not all changes or amendments to a work to prepare it for sale compromise its integrity. For example, an editor’s suggestions to fix errors within a manuscript to improve its quality for sale would likely improve the work from an artistic standpoint and not subvert its purpose. On the other hand, product placement within a novel that has nothing to do with the story would be a sell-out. But there is plenty of gray area between those obvious examples. I think it’s a distinction made in the gut of the artist in relation to each individual work.

The art/commerce relationship is not always necessary; many people express themselves creatively without selling their works. But the creation of any piece of art does take time and money, so if the artist cannot independently support her or his own work, it must be made possible through sales or grants or patronage, which are not entirely different arrangements. For me, selling my novel could give me the freedom to spend time writing more and better novels and improving my craft in a way that would be difficult or impossible if writing time were always forced into the periphery of my daily life.

What role does collaboration with others play in your art, if any?
The text of my novel itself I write completely on my own. But indirectly, many others have assisted me. My writing has benefited from a good critique partner who is encouraging, honest, and skilled at close reading and reviewing. Every time she says, “I don’t like this,” she points out a way to make the scene or chapter a hundred times better. Other help has been even more indirect, but no less important. My husband has been supportive in providing me some time and space to write, and I have learned a lot from networking online with authors and readers.

How conscious are you of your artistic influences? Who are your artistic influences?
I couldn’t possibly be conscious of all of them—in some way, I am influenced by every word I’ve ever heard or read—but I can name many that I intentionally draw upon.

A major influence of my current manuscript is Gregory Maguire, author of Wicked, Confessions of an Ugly Stepsister, and other creative retellings of fairy tales.

I try to read classic stories, old and new, in the hope that I can learn even a tiny bit from the literary masters. I like to read Shakespeare, the ultimate master of witty dialogue, and novelists like Vladimir Nabokov, Virginia Woolfe, Tolstoy, and Jane Austen.

I also admire J.K. Rowling for her world-building, her whimsical names and made-up words, and her fun and accessible storytelling.

My favorite modern storytellers, famous but still underrated, are American Indian authors Sherman Alexie and Louise Erdrich, who paint such vivid, inscrutable, and true faces of humanity. My own life experience is limited, and I feel that reading poignant stories of other people’s experiences, real or fictional, broadens my understanding of what it means to be human and helps me write better characters.

To keep my use of language fresh and interesting, I like to study prose and poetry in other languages as much as I can. Although I don’t read or understand Japanese, I enjoy the elegance of the haiku poetry form, and I like to read English translations of medieval Japanese love and Zen poetry. In Spanish, I have read some prose by Paolo Cuelho (translated from Portuguese) and Laura Esquivel and the poetry of Pablo Neruda. I love listening to Italian, French, and German opera and playing with different ways of translating the libretti into English to capture—or modify—meaning, tone, and lyrical rhythm in different ways. My husband and I practically worship the band Rammstein for Till Lindemann’s lyrics with their subversive and brilliant triple-entendres and wonderful turns of phrase. Some of the songs echo concepts and themes from medieval and ancient German folklore, which is perfect for my current project. Listening to Rammstein while writing has inspired a few of the scenes in my book.

With Briars and Black Hellebore in particular, I am drawing from extensive readings of Western European folklore, which is connected to the folk traditions and fairy tales of Eastern Europe and Southeast Asia and the Far East. As a child, I loved the Grimm brothers’ iterations of German fairy tales and also modern Disney movies based on fairy tales.

As an adult, I am having a great time tracing those storylines further and further back into pre-Christian epic poetry and cross-cultural traditions. I read Homer and Ovid in college, and just now I am delving into Beowulf and the Nibelungenlied, the great Germanic epic that splintered into many of the fairy tales recorded by the Grimm brothers. I am amazed at how downright entertaining and fascinating the Nibelungenlied is and how few Americans have even heard of it. I feel the same way about the story of Camaralzaman and Badoura in the Arabian Nights tales.

Old stories rooted in oral tradition have made me think deeply about the ways stories and cultural ideas evolve through time and across geo-political space, sometimes organically and sometimes intentionally by a single author. The stories within the Nibelungenlied and the Arabian Nights are influenced by true events and people, the stories of other cultures, bizarre misconceptions of other cultures, and editorial opinions and interpretations of the people who finally wrote them down. German fairy tales, often told by the lower classes and probably mostly by women, were edited, censored, and modified by the Grimm brothers in order to sell them in book form to a wealthy, male readership. (See “selling out,” above!) It is so exciting to plunge down the rabbit holes of revisionist history, cultural misappropriation, political and moral censorship, mistranslation, and divergent narratives following migrations and culture shifts.

I also have a fascination with sacred texts, Christian and otherwise. The “metamyth” of sacred texts is as interesting as the writings themselves. It is amazing how controversial and loaded the line between “myth” and “religion” is drawn in modern Western society, but the difference is impossible to define coherently or justify.


Since this is a travel blog, how does travel relate to or affect your art? (Themes in what you produce, road trips to perform your music, thoughts on what happens to your painting when you ship it across the country to a customer, etc.)

I love to create rich, purposeful settings for my stories. Traveling anywhere, to a nearby city or a distant country, to somewhere beautiful or ugly, for business or pleasure, stimulates my senses, layers and deepens my store of memories, and opens my mind and spirit to fresh insights and observations. Like a painter who builds up the “negative space” around the subject of a picture, I try to use setting to reflect and influence characters’ internal motivations, set moods, foreshadow, and become part of the action. As a novel reader, I like to be “taken away” on a journey outside myself, so I try to offer that experience in my own writing.


And finally, a right-brain question: If your art was a map, what would it be a map of?

It would be a map of Western culture. Ultimately, that is what I am exploring as I work on Briars and Black Hellebore.

If you’d like, share your website/Facebook page and any upcoming gigs/plans you’d like readers to know about.
http://magicnutshell.blogspot.com/

Aesthetically Speaking: Kelsay Myers

Hello, dearest fellow travelers! I’m very excited to introduce a new recurring feature here on Stowaway: The Aesthetically Speaking series of artist interviews. I know so many people who make art, whether as a main occupation or something they pursue whenever they can, and I wanted to hear more about their processes and philosophies. So I wrote up a list of questions and sent them out to friends far and wide, and each week I’ll post their answers here. I strongly encourage you to ask questions in the comments and check out their websites, shows, etc. Many thanks to all the artists who sent me such thoughtful responses. I appreciate your taking the time and sharing insight into what art means to you.

The inaugural interview is with Kelsay Myers, a friend of mine from Kalamazoo College. I remember Kelsay as an energetic force in our campus’s feminist organization, and when we did the feminist fashion show her keen artist’s eye was invaluable. Kelsay lives in San Francisco and, as you’ll see from her interview, is totally immersed in the arts scene there. Thanks for sharing, Kelsay!

What is your name and city of residence?
Kelsay Elizabeth Myers, San Francisco Bay Area

What medium do you work in?
Creative writing and found art installation

How often do you work on your art–is it a full-time endeavor or something you work on in your spare time?
Currently, I spend most of my time working on writing, art or arts-related projects. I am trying to live the artist’s, or writer’s life and go wherever the work takes me.

The Red Frame by Kelsay Myers

The Red Frame by Kelsay Myers


How does art fit into your life, in general? Is it something you think about and talk about every day, or every week, or only in certain situations, etc.?

I admit that I might be a bit of an art-a-holic. I am thinking about my writing, or future writing projects, or future art projects, or ideas for art projects, or what I should or could be doing with my writing constantly. I talk about it with my friends, colleagues and family. I tweet about it with some consistency. I do it with somewhat greater consistency than tweeting about it.

This might be a by-product of moving to California and falling into both a writers’ community (the MFA Writing community at Saint Mary’s College of California) and an artists’ community (Asian American Women Artists Association). Or, it could be because when I moved to the East Bay, I was ready to devote myself to my writing, and I tend to go full-throttle when I decide to do something.


When you start on a piece, what kind of end result do you have in mind? Does it get performed or published, put in a permanent form or is it more temporary?
It’s different each time. Each piece has a life of its own, but some things are the same. I always create for myself, but I also always want to share my work whether it’s through publication, a literary reading or a performance. It’s part of the Di Seuss model of creating—write because you have to, because you have no other choice and then send it out into the world to hopefully connect with others. Then move on.


What goals do you set in relation to your art, both short- and long-term? Is it something you hope to make money doing, or is it something you want to keep uncommercialized? Does the term “sell-out” hold meaning for you or do you see the art/commerce relationship as a necessary one?

“Sell-out” is something I’m concerned about. Not from the art/commerce side of things since the ability to make money doing art or writing is the ideal for me. I worry about becoming complacent, not challenging myself to move into new artistic territory, repeating myself or being convinced to make choices that I know would be a disservice to the integrity of the work. But I’d like to think that I would never allow that to happen. I guess time will tell.


What role does collaboration with others play in your art, if any?

Collaboration hasn’t come up for me very often, but I would love to collaborate. I think a piece can benefit from having more than one voice and more than one person’s mission influencing it. 


How conscious are you of your artistic influences? Who are your artistic influences?
Risa Nye said it best when she told me that my writing is very inspired and inspiring. While I cannot really speak to that last part, I do think my writing is very inspired and purposefully so. My goal is for someone else to find my writing half as inspiring as I find other writers’ to be. I haven’t written anything without directly quoting at least one of my artistic influences because I don’t see my work as being created in a vacuum, either in content or in structure. I want to honor the voices of the people who influence my work within my work, and this is something I will not compromise on.

I don’t think it’s merely the academic in me wanting to re-enforce my argument with the evidence of others either. Actress Fanny Ardant captured the idea brilliantly when she said: “As a girl, whenever I read a beautiful passage in a book I would run to my sister and read it to her. It is the feeling that you have to share the beautiful with someone else.” I find beauty everywhere: in a painting, in a book, on the silver screen, in my friends and colleagues, and I want to share that beauty with the whole world.

Aside from the women I have already mentioned in this interview (Di, Risa and Fanny), specific artistic influences are Carole Maso, Friedrich Nietzsche, Kimiko Hahn, Yoko Ono, John Irving, Walt Whitman, SØren Kierkegaard and Marilyn Abildskov.

Kelsay at the "A Place of Her Own" exhibition at SOMArts Cultural Center

Kelsay at the "A Place of Her Own" exhibition at SOMArts Cultural Center

Since this is a travel blog, how does travel relate to or affect your art? (Themes in what you produce, road trips to perform your music, thoughts on what happens to your painting when you ship it across the country to a customer, etc.)
Travel comes across in a lot of my work in some way or another. As a transracial and transnational adoptee, a certain amount of displacement exists in everything that I write. For example, the large red doors I constructed from found objects in my first art installation at SOMArts Cultural Center in San Francisco this past May were dubbed “very Asian” by some other artists in the show, which I found interesting since the lyrical essay that inspired my installation included a lot of imaginary scenes that take place in Busan, South Korea. It’s an essay where I imagine my birth parents and birth story in different ways, and I suppose the Asian side of me came out, too, in ways that it hasn’t been able to before.

Even if travel itself isn’t mentioned, place is important in all of my writing. I have lived in quite a few cities, and all of them have impacted me, which tends to come out in the writing, depending on which city I was living in during the time of the piece. Budapest, Hungary, where I lived for five months during my Study Abroad in college, is a place I associate with themes of freedom and escape. California and Korea are both places that have lived in my imagination for years as ideals and foils to my hometown of Lowell, Michigan. All of these are issues I write about or work out in my art.


And finally, a right-brain question: If your art was a map, what would it be a map of?

The United States of Asian America, as lived by one Korean American adoptee.


If you’d like, share your website/Facebook page and any upcoming gigs/plans you’d like readers to know about.

Photo 1 credit Markus Storzer. Photo 2 credit Nicole C. Roldan.