Early in my childhood I was introduced to Theatre.
Naturally a child would take to such a pursuit—this formal game of dress-up.
It seems a fitting occupation for children, who are already predisposed to exercise of the imagination.
One might not guess, from its dusty stillness, the power of the stage.
Its silent dignity does not pronounce its force; it lets others do the talking.
Perhaps as a child I did not fully comprehend the magnitude of my summertime occupation—
Stepping out into the center, in a shaft of gold, seeing dust dancing in the air, in a room so quiet you could hear a pin drop—you realize the command you temporarily hold.
I held on to my art. It has been a canvas and a refuge.
The stage is the tool of those of us who, when told we could be anything, decided to be everything.
It is the frame of affairs that provoke thought, induce laughter, evoke wonder, and bring people to tears.
Through my art I have crawled into the skin of others and looked at things from many points of view.
I have dissected the minds of those I would, under normal circumstances, not even encounter.
It has brought me to consider a profuse variety of things that I had, hitherto, not even been aware of.
It has invited me to feel the struggles of others,
And by these means, given me a sympathy unlike that which I would have without these experiences.
It has given me the liberty to be anything, and yet the security to return to myself.
In the words of William Shakespeare, “One man in his time plays many parts”
And through this kaleidoscopic craft, I have discovered much of myself by discovering scraps of others.
In short, I am a storyteller.
I am an ambassador for the characters blown into the world of thought on the winds of the hopes and ambitions of their creators.
Through my art, I represent the ideas entrusted by authors to their audiences.
My task is to embody the concepts they desire to pass on.
I am a narrator of the human experience.