As I look forward to continued writing and performing, I’m brainstorming about interesting metaphors for transitioning. I previously worked with the constructed myth of Ares and Aphrodite, about a child who was assigned the wrong gender by the gods. Likewise, in my most recent piece, Trans Form, I used a physical box full of costumes and props as a metaphor for the emotional weight of pre-transition life, and of the complicated and confusing natrue of transitioning. I’d like to play with both of those metaphors more, but I’d love to find some other avenues to explore, too.
Things that spring to mind, or that I’ve used in the past:
Finally sat down tonight and put together another clip from Trans Form. Enjoy! (The video is after the jump and, in case you missed it, the first clip is here.)
I thought you all might enjoy a few clips from my recent solo performance, Trans Form. This is two pieces, from separate parts of the show, that deal with The Little Mermaid and the idea of Ariel passing.
A lot of the material from this video came from this post. I’m still working on getting the rest of the video in some semblance of order… Would people be interested in seeing the whole thing (I’d need to break it up) or is a ‘best of’ clip video acceptable?
I’ve been chatting with a number of people this week about my recent show – artists and not, trans and cis, family and friends and coworkers. (Video is forthcoming. I’m actually converting the video to an editable format as I’m writing this. Stupid Sony, stupid Mac.)
One of the things I’ve been thinking about is how art can focus inward versus focusing outward. That is, this past show was very much about my own experiences and feelings. It attempted to capture how I felt about particular experiences – coming out, not coming out, moments in the transition – at the time of the experience. I looked inward to try and portray how my journey has felt, and not as much what I think or feel about it now. I definitely touched on the present, but mainly to acknowledge that I don’t know how I feel about a lot of things; that I still have a lot of confusions and uncertainties.
But how can, and should, are focus outward? How does it get directed at other people?
I know that’s kind of all I’ve been blathering about the past week or so, but I really can’t believe it. The show went really well – I’d budgeted about 60 people coming over all three nights, and Sunday alone (closing night) we had 69 people. They were packed in, but we fit ‘em. (The box office manager told me, “We never see this big of an audience for an unknown solo performance. Maybe for well-established ensemble companies, but not for a one-woman show.” Which just goes to show how badass my friends and family are!)
All three shows were filmed, and I plan to have video up by the end of the year. (Fingers crossed.)
I sat down with Sarah Terez Rosenblum a few weeks ago for an interview that was just posted at the Windy City Times website, a Chicago-area LGBT newspaper.
Eloquent and animated, performer Rebecca Kling clearly enjoys discussing her work. “Trans Form combines spoken word and multimedia,” she says, sipping tea at Starbucks, “it’s the second show I’ve written outside of school.” Chatting about Trans Form’s inspiration, as well as theater as a vehicle for social change, Rebecca’s passion for theater grows increasingly evident; it’s creation surely integral to her sense of self.Windy City Times: What was the impetus for your new show?
Rebecca Kling: Trans Form came out of the work I did at the Charged Bodies Mentorship Program, which itself came out of a weeklong workshop at Links Hall where I sort of stumbled on the idea of transitioning as this mythic process of defying gods and defying fate and defying convention. When I was fortunate enough to get the Critical Fierceness Grant through Chances Dances in Chicago this past year to expand the piece, I realized I wanted to delve into the mundane or the personal or the everyday, keeping components of the piece I worked on last year, but also expanding upon it and trying to process where I’m coming from, where I’m going and what the hell I’m doing.
Last year, trans performance artist Rebecca Kling told us it was a struggle figuring out how to present herself on stage. You wouldn’t think so if you caught her assured cameo at this summer’s Homo Show in Wicker Park. With the help of a Chances Dances Critical Fierceness Grant, Trans Form, her first full solo show, happens Friday 11–Sunday 13 at Links Hall. Using video, dance and candid confession, Kling explores her life as a transgender woman in Chicago. With her raw honesty and graceful body movements, we can only say of Kling, what a difference a year makes.
(And no, I’m not posting this at 3AM after getting home from tech. I don’t know what you’re talking about.)
Rebecca Kling’s solo performance employs storytelling, video and theatrical movement to relate her experiences as a transgender woman… Trans Form peels back the trans label and its mystique to probe the complications of human identity…. With good nature and gentle humor the five-minute monologue [about changing her name] not only riffs on the frustrations of living in a bureaucratic system, but also gives one pause to consider the blurred line between private life and public identity. It plays out like a Kafka short story that ends in triumph. (Sharon Hoyer)
The first night of tech for Trans Form was last night, and I’m kind of a mess.
(For those of you who aren’t theatre people, tech refers to technical rehearsals, where lights/sound/etc are set. It comes before dress rehearsals and/or previews, the final rehearsals before a show opens.)
The show is going fine, although I’m planning to head out of work early tonight and finish up some sound and video work. And yet, I’m really scared about it opening on Friday. Not simply stressing out, but scared. And, after thinking about what parts of the show terrify me, I realized I’m not just dealing with stage fright (although there’s some of that) but with some deeper internalized transphobia.
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