How do you begin to self-evaluate a work that has been kept so close to you for months? A project that has unearthed emotions that have festered inside almost your entire life? It feels too dear, too close to evaluate. I am not in a place where I can see it from a new lens. It has become a part of my story.
So instead, I will list thoughts that tumbled through my mind throughout the process:
I strived from the very beginning to create a rehearsal environment that was open and loving for my performers/collaborators, Sua, Jiwon, and Yingyi, so they felt like they belonged. (They have been some of my favorite people to work with).
I wanted to have fun. (Sometimes it wasn’t. Sometimes I felt like I was drowning in my own emotional baggage, and sometimes that felt narcissistic. Sometimes I don’t know how to share my own voice, but I’m learning).
I expected most of my ideas to flow evenly and effortlessly. (Obviously that was not the case; I felt stuck at times, and trying to force myself to be unstuck only made it worse).
I had consistent revisionist dreams about my piece — how it would look on stage, how I should end it, what movements I should use. (I could not turn off the artistic thoughts, even in my sleep).
I wished to make my mother proud, for so much of my inspiration came from her. (She was proud, she was able to come to the performance and she loved it).
I hope for this to be only a beginning for 9 Tales of a Bitch. I hope my story resonates with others, with people who can connect to it in some way. And I hope I can keep telling my stories.
