A message to our community during the Covid-19 pandemic
With the restrictions to limit the spread of the coronavirus set to remain in place for a long time, we have made the heart-breaking decision to suspend all our normal activities until further notice. This involves cancelling Studio Nights, which we had previously thought of postponing to September, and Nixon's Nixon, a political play that was meant to open on the night of the American presidential elections.
It is not known if or when theaters will be allowed to reopen. At any rate, maintaining safe distances will imply cutting the seating capacity of most venues by as much as 80%. This is not financially viable, and we feel that it does not sufficiently reward the enormous effort put in by our volunteers to produce a conventional play.
The ATC has enough reserves to wait out the storm, as does CAST, the umbrella association that manages the Warehouse. We will therefore be in the fortunate position of resuming our activities as soon as it is safe to do so.
We will have to figure out alternative ways of remaining active during this interval. One thing we will do is share the treasure trove of archives that we recovered for our 50th anniversary, and which we had already started posting on Facebook in the run-up to our big celebration last year. So please visit our Facebook page to stay connected.
We encourage our followers to support theater in their local communities. This is an unprecedented challenge for our art form, and strong public support will be needed if we want theaters to thrive when this crisis is over.
We hope it will not be too long before we can experience once again the pangs of excitement of an opening night, the levity of multiple callbacks, or the bittersweet emotions of a cast party. But in the meantime, we will stay safe, and we will stay at home.
With the restrictions to limit the spread of the coronavirus set to remain in place for a long time, we have made the heart-breaking decision to suspend all our normal activities until further notice. This involves cancelling Studio Nights, which we had previously thought of postponing to September, and Nixon's Nixon, a political play that was meant to open on the night of the American presidential elections.
It is not known if or when theaters will be allowed to reopen. At any rate, maintaining safe distances will imply cutting the seating capacity of most venues by as much as 80%. This is not financially viable, and we feel that it does not sufficiently reward the enormous effort put in by our volunteers to produce a conventional play.
The ATC has enough reserves to wait out the storm, as does CAST, the umbrella association that manages the Warehouse. We will therefore be in the fortunate position of resuming our activities as soon as it is safe to do so.
We will have to figure out alternative ways of remaining active during this interval. One thing we will do is share the treasure trove of archives that we recovered for our 50th anniversary, and which we had already started posting on Facebook in the run-up to our big celebration last year. So please visit our Facebook page to stay connected.
We encourage our followers to support theater in their local communities. This is an unprecedented challenge for our art form, and strong public support will be needed if we want theaters to thrive when this crisis is over.
We hope it will not be too long before we can experience once again the pangs of excitement of an opening night, the levity of multiple callbacks, or the bittersweet emotions of a cast party. But in the meantime, we will stay safe, and we will stay at home.
Jeremy Zeegers,
ATC President
ATC President
Pandemic Pentameter
by Robynn Colwell
A long time ago and so far away
We gathered for this year’s last ATC play
Three Days of Rain it was called, and it ran
for eight sold-out nights before the big pan--
But, wait, let’s just bask a bit in those weeks
when actors, production team, technical geeks
all devoted their joy, their minds, souls, and hearts,
to make something more than the sum of its parts
Some tread the boards, and some did the building,
others worked wonders with deft paintbrush wielding
Friendships held fast through each maelstrom of views
on set changes, blocking, and light and sound cues
Newsletters written, publicity sent,
the box office soon showed the tickets all went!
Audiences cried, and they cheered, and they raved
(take a look at this link where the photos are saved)
Turns out it was more than a fabulous show;
it was our last dance with the people we know
For eight cosy nights in a magic black box
we shook hands and hugged; we stayed late for talks
Some people bumped elbows, exchanging a grin,
and chatted while waiting for the show to begin
They laughed and they cried with the friends they were with
They got the same jokes, they held the same breath
Who knew that we’d all soon be zapped through a portal
into a dimension where it sucks to be mortal?
Who could have predicted this light-speed eviction
from Earth into this dystopian fiction?
And now we are all far-flung stars in the night,
each shining through darkness our one lonely light
Yes, we’re apart, to our great consternation,
from afar, though, we still make a bright constellation.
by Robynn Colwell
A long time ago and so far away
We gathered for this year’s last ATC play
Three Days of Rain it was called, and it ran
for eight sold-out nights before the big pan--
But, wait, let’s just bask a bit in those weeks
when actors, production team, technical geeks
all devoted their joy, their minds, souls, and hearts,
to make something more than the sum of its parts
Some tread the boards, and some did the building,
others worked wonders with deft paintbrush wielding
Friendships held fast through each maelstrom of views
on set changes, blocking, and light and sound cues
Newsletters written, publicity sent,
the box office soon showed the tickets all went!
Audiences cried, and they cheered, and they raved
(take a look at this link where the photos are saved)
Turns out it was more than a fabulous show;
it was our last dance with the people we know
For eight cosy nights in a magic black box
we shook hands and hugged; we stayed late for talks
Some people bumped elbows, exchanging a grin,
and chatted while waiting for the show to begin
They laughed and they cried with the friends they were with
They got the same jokes, they held the same breath
Who knew that we’d all soon be zapped through a portal
into a dimension where it sucks to be mortal?
Who could have predicted this light-speed eviction
from Earth into this dystopian fiction?
And now we are all far-flung stars in the night,
each shining through darkness our one lonely light
Yes, we’re apart, to our great consternation,
from afar, though, we still make a bright constellation.