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Eric Vosmeier

Eric has a BFA in Theatre from Northern Kentucky University.  Upon graduation, he realized that he would soon be without insurance, so he quickly took a job that provided it with Broadway in Cincinnati.  He soon transferred to Broadway Across America's head offices in Houston.  Yes, Texas.  Here he served as ticketing manager for Baltimore, Philadelphia, San Antonio and New Orleans.  After being beaten down long enough, he transferred to the non-profit world, where the beatings continued.  He took a position at the Hobby Center for the Performing Arts where he served as Box Office Manager, Booking Manager, and General Manager for the 500-seat Zilkha Hall.  Eric moved back to the Kentucky side of Cincinnati about six years ago to serve as the Theatre Director through the final renovations of the Carnegie Visual and Performing Arts Center.  Three years ago he moved to Know Theatre of Cincinnati as the Assoc. Artistic Director.  He's had four job titles since then, and is currently Managing Director.  He lives in Covington (a.k.a. The Cov, Under-the-Rhine).

Soapblog The Second. Discomfort.

Following a round of auditions and callbacks with potential resident actors for next season, I moved into the interview phase of that hiring process.  This part is not unlike interviewing for any other job, but the conversation does tend to wander into topics you'd not necessarily expect out of a traditional interview. 

Recently, I had a very interesting conversation (via email) with a potential actor for next season that struck me as more than just conversation.  In fact, it was an expression of a small part of my personal philosophy.  The conversation was about discomfort.  It started because the actor mentioned how he had recently discovered how important it was to always be a little "off-balance." 

After giving it some thought, I realized this was something I not only identified with but was sort of an m.o. of sorts for me.  I wrote back:

"Comfort is the status quo.  Comfort to me, too often, becomes coasting.  Being out of our comfort zone is one of the best ways to learn, to teach, and to create the best work.  This is not to say that I'm constantly striving for discomfort for myself or for the rest of the company.  But rather to identify those things which should find a nice comfort zone when it benefits the company, and likewise to identify those things that should never get caught in the rut of a comfort zone, when that benefits the company. 

I think about that conversation a great deal now. 

Granted, as a person, I'm bordering on broken (or at least severely cracked), but I like the feeling of discomfort.  I like not knowing what's next.  I like having to figure out how to make something work that seems impossible. 

Being uncomfortable and off-balance means I can't rely upon those habits I've always relied upon.  I can't pull from the same bag of tricks, rather I have to create new tools for ye ole' bag.  I have to have new thoughts, new reactions.  I have to be challenged.  I have to think differently. 

I have to hear opinions about things I am not willing to hear opinions about.  And I have to allow myself to be open to those ideas and to make changes based on them.  Those changes are sometimes significant. 

I have to evolve.  I have to get better. 

This is why I love my job.  This is why I hate my job.  This is why I love my job. 

When we create something new for the stage, we all move into an area of discomfort, of unease.  We don't know where the process of creating a character or a set or a poster design or an education program will take us.  We don't know if we'll actually know how to do what we have to do to create something.  And we don't know if we can do it with the limited resources we have.  But we love trying.  We appreciate failing.  And we love getting better.  

Play

On Final Friday last week, the staff of Know Theatre and the Cincinnati Fringe Festival decided to put together an impromptu Final Friday Fringe Festival Parade.  The idea of a Fringe Parade has been knocking around in my head since I took on responsibility for producing the Festival in 2008.  It was but a dream. 

Then, rather suddenly (within 90 minutes or so) we put together a parade featuring two groups of Fringe performers, 4 Segways and a moped, five Fringe Staffers in various costumes, a blogger and his mom, a CityBeat critic and a delightful band by the name of Lagniappe.

We marched down Vine Street, crossed over to Main Street, and back to Know Theatre on Jackson.  It took about 20 minutes.  It was, without question, the highlight of my week. 

Obviously, the fulfillment of a three-year long back-of-my-head plan on the spur of the moment had something to do with the elation of the mini-parade, but there was something more - for a short time we came together simply to Play. 

With the privileges of producing the Fringe, comes the reality of the work it requires.  We do this work joyfully (for the most part), but it's still a labor.  It's easy to get lost in the tasks and trials of producing a Festival of this type and size.  When that happens, one of the first things that can disappear is the fun.  The Play. 

Play is the entire reason the Fringe Festival exists.  We present Plays.  Artists produce Plays.  We invite the public to come and Play with us.  The staff gets to Play with Underground programming in the form of things like Channel Fringe Hard Hitting Action News, Fringe Prom, Fringe Olympics, and so on. 

Play is something that we don't do enough of.  (Of course as a person with absolutely zero life in my work/life balance, I'm probably not the person who should be addressing this, but hey, they asked me to blog.  Not you.  So there.)  Play is one of the very first things we do as humans.  We do it alone.  We do it with others.  We begin to create community out of moments of play.  And I believe that true communities are sustained through play.  Play requires both competition and collaboration.  It requires invention and strategy.  It connects us with individuals and groups we might not normally come in contact with.  It is both active and restful.  It forces us to share, and in return others share with us.  It lifts us up. 

Between devastating oil spills and unwinnable wars…
Between gay marriage and immigration policy…
Between being screwed by corporate banks and homelessness…
It's easy to forget about the value and necessity of Play. 

But we shouldn't.  It's essential.

Come play with us. 
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