"I'm Rehearsing!"

Collaboration, my dear.

Hey all—
I’ve been a tad busy lately. I’ve been directing a solo show written and performed by a wonderful actor and longtime friend.

Tony Abatemarco is a theatre and screen actor who’s been tearing up stages in LA and around the world since the late ’70s. He’s won numerous awards for his writing, performance, and directing, and this latest solo show is something special. It’s an origin story—an excavation of the familial and psychological forces, and the strange intimacy between television screens and young minds, that brought the actor within him to life. It’s also about how that creative spark has sustained him across decades and continues to light him up.

I first met Tony in the ’80s, in the vibrant, risky downtown LA theatre scene. He was a driving force behind many endeavors and lived in a loft that became a pressure cooker for artists and ideas. It was called Projects Club, and it welcomed creatives of every stripe. A lot of work—and a lot of life—passed through that space.

We reconnected during the pandemic, via Facebook, when I was having a flurry of ideas about how Zoom might be used as a performance platform—how it could connect actors, support their visions, and keep creative hearts engaged during a strange and isolating time. We stayed in touch.

In 2022, over a ten-month period, through hours of improvisation and some serious fancy footwork, Tony, Jan Munroe, and I created a theatre piece together, which I directed. After that, the three of us began meeting regularly to share our writing. Some of the material in Tony’s new show grew directly out of those sessions.

Originally, these pieces weren’t meant for the stage. Tony was searching for the right form for a memoir—about a creative life lived over the long haul, and how a heart-mind devoted to art changes over time. The idea of staging it was simply to get feedback: a one-time reading and benefit performance at the LGBT Center in Los Angeles.

But the response was so strong that Tony jumped at the chance to put it up again.

That’s where I came in. Tony barely had to ask if I’d direct this second iteration—my yes came out loud and fast. What followed was a month-long deep dive: meetings, editing, rehearsals, great soup, and a deepening friendship—all in service of a single performance.

Working one-on-one with material this personal is gratifying in a way that still astonishes me. The questions that arise. The masks that come down. The discovery of new themes and unexpected depths—inside the material and the artist. Then both of you being nudged, sometimes shoved, into uncomfortable territory. It’s a straight-up dopamine rush, and it reminds me why this kind of work matters so much to me.

I’ll share more photos and updates soon. After this Sunday, I’ll be back to the regular articles.
Many thanks for hanging in with me.