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VIVA+Matt McCluskey & Suzanne Schapira

2/18/2018

 
She thought she got it, too.  
Hands shaking with excitement, the spoon rattling against the teacup in her hands, Staci recounted every second of the oddest audition of her career to her roommate. Her skin flushed from the cocktail of adrenaline and August heat, but she couldn’t sit still or even stop to take a sip. There was too much to say.
Charlotte eyes widened.
“And you said yes?”
“I had to.  You know how many times I’ve gone in for roles I was made for, and all I left with was a half-hearted handshake?”
Staci’s eyes glimmered.  Yes, the director had seemed more than odd, if not downright creepy, and the low-budget film set, in a dingy warehouse pier, didn’t fill her mind with confidence that this project would be her stepping-stone to stardom.  Still, there was a stirring inside of her.  
She’d opened the grimy warehouse door, at once desperately hoping she had the right place and desperately hoping she didn’t, to find the familiar buzz of theatre activity already underway. The costumer makers huddled and murmured in one corner, squinting and shaking their heads over reams of avocado green and creamsicle orange fabrics. The set designer paced the stage, alternately placing the cheap metal chair upside-down on the little wooden bar table and then removing it again on an endless loop. Green, purple, blue and red lights flashed on and then off, marionettes of the tech crew.
“STOP PLEASING OTHERS, ANGELA!”
He was in front of her suddenly, screaming so violently the veins in his neck visibly quivered, his eyes bulging and throbbing with rage.
“You are only on this ride once. Are you going to waste it on rodents who don’t even care you exist? Do YOU even care you exist?”
“I’m… I’m…”
The spittle from the insult flecked her face. In her shock, it took her moments to realize he was delivering lines from the play, so disorienting was his attack.
She had a sudden awareness that all eyes in the tacky, makeshift studio had turned towards them.  Without time to discern anything more and with all her faculties having return to her, she leapt.
“You wouldn’t know the first thing about the cost of trying to make it in this place, Frank!  This wasn’t handed to me!  You...you were born into this!  Daddy made sure of it!”
She looked down, briefly, then a back up again, leveling an icy glare on the man.
“Perhaps...”  
She paused, for a moment, while her right hand reached inside the shiny black bag dangling at her waist.
“...this ride needs one less passenger.”


By Viva & Matt McCluskey​

dramatic reading (at the June event) by Suzanne Schapira

    66 OURS - Collaborative Writing Project

    Starting with Phase 1, writers had 66 days to base their writing on 1 anonymous person & 1 vignette, dutifully and judiciously assigned to each writer by Amelia.

    For Phase 2, Amelia then took said writings and paired them with artists who then have 66 days to translate the words into physical form, either with creations or performance.

    Then the works and secrets were revealed June 22nd through June 24th 
    at 
    Beulahland.

    Photos given to the writers

    Each writer was given a combination of 1 person + 1 vignette from the following:
    Picture
    Person 1
    Picture
    Person 2
    Picture
    Person 3
    Picture
    Vignette 1
    Picture
    Vignette 2
    Picture
    Vignette 3

    Categories

    All
    Adrenaline
    Animal
    Art
    Artist
    Bed
    Beulahland
    Blue
    Boat
    Body
    Bookie
    Boxes
    Break
    Broken
    Bugs
    Buzz
    Camper
    Chair
    Childhood
    Cigarettes
    Clothes
    Couch
    Curiosity
    Dancer
    Divorce
    Door
    Dust
    Everything Changes
    Factory
    Faded
    Family
    Games
    Gingham
    Gravity
    Grease
    Hair
    Hallway
    Hiking
    Illness
    Jesus
    Knives
    Lake
    Late
    Leather
    Letter
    Library
    License
    Limb
    Lipstick
    Longing
    Loss
    Love
    Memory
    Michigan
    Milk
    Mint
    Money
    Moving On
    Neck
    Neon
    Nostalgia
    Nothing Changes
    Office
    Office Supplies
    Oil Can
    Pain
    Peanuts
    Pillow
    Pinball
    Plaid
    Pleasure
    Post-its
    Rocking Horse
    Room
    Run Down
    Run-down
    School
    Scissors
    Secrets
    Shadow
    Shoulders
    Stadiums
    Stars
    Stone
    Storm
    Stumble
    Sunscreen
    Sunshine
    Survival
    Table
    The Bar
    Thunder
    Train
    Triumph
    Uprooted
    Vessel
    Vulnerable
    Window
    Wine
    Work

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landline: 607.776.8018
​email: amelia@hoursfestivals.com

4363 County Route 24
Cameron Mills, NY 14820