By AMY WARD

For many members of the Drama Division's Group 35, the centennial tour of A Midsummer Night's Dream and Edward II to Los Angeles and Chicago meant seeing a new city for the first time. Some would realize they didn't pack enough sunscreen for the sunny L.A. skies. Some, like myself, who weren't familiar with the blistering wind for which Chicago is famous would come to find that adjusting the contents of a suitcase or two would have been a beneficial way to spend the days off in New York between shows.

A rehearsal of Edward II in the Walt Disney Concert Hall's Redcat theater in Los Angeles. (Photo by Steve Gunther)

Aside from the obvious differences between weather in the two cities, there were other things to get used to: new costume and make-up assistants, new theater supervisors, new audiences, new spaces. Having copiously already rehearsed and performed Midsummer in New York, we felt confident in telling the story again—this time, with the creative freedom that comes with experience. The show became something new because we no longer death-gripped it, as is easy to do when in the beginning stages of performing Shakespeare. Instead, the additional performances on the tour afforded us the opportunity to share A Midsummer Night's Dream as a work that included the actors, the audiences, the cities, the new theater spaces, and the new crew involved. If we learned anything in the three-week stretch of touring, it was how to adjust our minds, bodies, and souls to a new atmosphere.

Sean Davis, who played Puck, replaced an L.A. pre-show bit regarding Beverly Hills with jokes more suited to our Chicago audiences. Peter Harris, who wears cornrows in Edward II, witnessed the distinct differences between Los Angeles and Chicago hairdressers. And all of us realized we'd have to exercise our four years of vocal training even more so in the Museum of Contemporary Art's 280-seat theater than in Redcat's slightly smaller one. The most important thing was, we made it through these necessary adjustments with a new sense of confidence, a sharpened ability to adapt.

All in all, the tour experience was packed with surprises. Although the weather was close to perfect in California, it did rain one day when I was visiting West Hollywood. I was approached by a young boy who saw I was drenched and offered me his umbrella. Slightly confused but relieved, I accepted the polite offering and watched as he sped off in an S.U.V. with his father, who gave a jovial nod and wave goodbye. I was impressed by their generosity. The simple kindness I witnessed in that little boy's eyes that day reminded me that sacrifice is what it takes to adapt to a new environment.

Return to the Tour Index Page.

At each theater, the audience size and their response to our performances varied immensely. Still, I believe it was this uncertainty that kept the performances fresh and exciting for us. It reminded me of a sort of mantra you will hear if you visit the third floor of The Juilliard School. It goes something like, "You must rediscover what it is to know. You must 'not-know.' It is in the not-knowing that we are revitalized." In that respect, the centennial tour was a lesson in living moment-to-moment, a revitalization of Group 35's inspiration. With graduation just around the corner, what better way to end our journey here but with a question? We can enter a new realm now, confident in our abilities to mold and adapt, to play, to listen, to sacrifice, to learn. After all, I began this article not knowing what I would say, and in the process, I've become more inspired to keep asking questions. Who knows what the future holds for this group of dedicated actors as we make our way into the real world of actor-waiters and arts enthusiasts? I think I've actually learned to embrace it that way. Relieving oneself of the obligation to know, of the pressure to control one's own environment, and to instead greet change and newness with open arms, is an amazing gift to give to oneself.

Amy Ward is a fourth-year drama student.