Cincinnati does NOT want you to mispronounce your Spanish.
Neither does my new feral friend, Benadryl the Cat. Benadryl lives next door to the artist housing, underneath a porch, and he seems to be considering my offers of adoption.
It’s 70 degrees in Ohio in February/ the planet is gonna explode. Grab a hard-hat and a margarita. In other news, day one at Cincy Playhouse!
When you get off the plane, the Welcome Committee is this guy: Here for 1) archeological pursuits, 2) however many nights out on the town can be achieved with the impeccable Kathleen Geldard, 3) the first three days of rehearsal for All The Roads Home. Then back to New York to start previews for The Moors. Until then, here’s a mural – Cincinnati has them to spare.
When your lighting designer brings her offspring to tech, and your scenic designer sets up a Baby And Murder Weapon installation / photoshoot.
Photos by Benita de Wit, our intrepid assistant director.
LA, why you always gotta be brewing a storm whenever I’m trying to leave you?
When leaving the theatre after late night tech notes, I encountered The Apocalypse. THERE ARE NO HUMANS ON THESE STREETS.
Speaking of That West Coast Life: