Cracking

"Our company is cracking today," said Brad in AfterNotes. A profound observation, and correct. Cracking is when the scene -- or the company -- surrenders. Something breaks. Something rushes forth.

Cracking cannot be summoned or commanded. One can only create conditions in which it might occur.

The first work is to begin. The second work is to crack. The deeper work cannot begin until the company has cracked. Cracking spreads as swiftly and erratically as fissures in a glacier.

It can come from anywhere. From a man showing how his father seared steak. From three-men in a Slow-Motion Monument-Melt, entwined and purposeful, forgotten. From a woman putting on eye makeup, before an invisible mirror. Newtonian bodies, toddling against the wall. A woman folding an invisible towel and putting it in a closet so matter-of-factly that we can tell it's light blue.

The especially fine and crumbly cheese brought for our snack. The humous and apples. Arizona tea.

Under that, what pleased me was the cracking comment itself. Bart Sher taught me what cracking is. It is part of how I work. But it's not something I've consciously taught. To have an actor see it and name it, means the lineage has been transmitted correctly.

And THAT is a good feeling.