Thankfully I have the first full weekend in January every year to participate in the Winter Wonderland Workshop, Chicago’s own gathering of like-minded souls who have a need to fulfill whatever is missing from our lives whenever we aren’t swinging steel. It’s full of athletes and artists and pop culture nerds. It’s physically grinding and turns our brains to mush. It’s full of toys we don’t get to play with at our day jobs.
It’s rewarding beyond measure.
This year, after the first three days learning the martial techniques of the Spanish Rapier, my back was throbbing and my legs were turned to mush hardened with rebar. I got an hour break in the evening to drive to the Lyric Opera to fit myself into an audition for Elektra, a German opera about the Greek myth. I went in thinking I was up for the role of one of two palace guards: “The Soldiers/Palace Guards are very aggressive, sadistic, and threatening. Candidates should be 25-45 years old, masculine, physically fit, beefy, or muscular. Training and proficiency in stage combat is required. Look at the film Caligula as a reference to the stylized concept.”
I mean come on. I’ve never been a better fit for a character description in my life. The audition room was filled with a dozen or so similar types, and it was the most physically demanding ten minutes I’ve ever spent trying to get a job. Lots of crawling around on all fours, supplicating to the director as he walked around the room in place of Clytemnestra. My body refused to move as well as I know it could have, but I was stiff and sore and my knees were firing warning shots.
We got as many minutes to rest in the cafeteria with the herd of hopefuls while a second group went in, and then the casting director called four of us back into the room to offer us roles. I was surprised, but not displeased, when the director told me he wanted me for the court jester: “The Court Jester is extremely physical. He spends most of the opera rolling and crawling around the stage on all fours. He is masochistic, and desperate to entertain and please Clytemnestra. Candidates should be 20- 35 years old. The costume is very revealing and made to fit a large man. Look at the film Caligula as a reference to the stylized concept.”
Right. So that makes sense. But holy fuck.
There are a lot of wins wrapped up in this victory. A living wage and the prestige of working at this opera house are two of them. Having earned once again the faith of this director with whom I’d worked on a previous show as well as when he was my instructor in grad school. For my first two years in stage combat he taught me 90% of everything I knew (the test adjudicator taught me the other ten).
But the biggest get with this gig is the health insurance. It only comes per the length of a given contract; two months’ work, two months covered by Aetna. With my recent heart scare, I could use all I can get. My last job at the Lyric had me covered through the end of February; this settles me until the end of April.
A quick trip back to the Crowne Plaza Hotel and it was time to start my duties working as an intern for WWW. I got a shirt that says STAFF and everything. Much of interning is working to make sure the students and instructors have a smooth day of teaching, but from time to time we get to participate as students as well.
Two major victories came on Day Two. Each day consists of four 90-minute workshops, and my first one on Friday focused upon unarmed combat when the audience is at close proximity surrounding the stage on all sides. I got to pair up with a woman I’d worked with before, always at this same workshop. One of the techniques was a choke, and it quickly turned into a weight sharing exercise as we struggled to the ground.
When we finished I realized there was something missing from our work – fear. I’m so accustomed to being mistrusted by people who think I don’t have the control to be gentle. This time I saw none of that mistrust, none of that fear. I didn’t overstep and I didn’t hurt her, and she never once recoiled to protect herself from me. I thanked her for giving me that quality of trust, and she told me I was welcome and was surprised that I could have that idea in the first place.
The last class of the day was a Rapier/Dagger combo for more advanced students. Some choreography was given for us to work on, and once we had it, more intermediate moves were added to complicate things. The instructor pulled me over to work with one student specifically, and when it came time for the room to switch partners, he wouldn’t let us switch. I was instructed to stay with her for the duration of the class.
The student was struggling. A full day of any workshop turns thoughts into sludge, and she was working hard to keep up every time a new move was mixed into the established choreography. I realized then what measure of faith the instructor was demonstrating in me to take care of her, to see her through what she needed to make it to the end of class. I later told him that I recognized that he put me with her because of my skills and patience, and thanked him for showing me that quality of respect.
Later I would learn from her the nature of her struggle. She was a trained combatant and it showed, but her years of experience were with a completely different set of rules than we were being taught at the workshop. She wasn’t just learning, she was working against her well-honed instincts. Like a seasoned truck driver having to switch to a sports car. The basic principles of “don’t hit anyone” are the same, but all the tools are in different places. She was very surprised when I told her how much skill I saw in her movement, and that I wouldn’t have known she was struggling if she hadn’t told me out loud.
Interspersed from Monday to Sunday were a hundred different moments of confusion transmuting to clarity, of overcoming pain and fatigue to make art out of swordplay. Bonds are formed, trust is developed, and confidence grows. I’m so very fulfilled to have this in my life.
Now it’s Monday again, and the workshop is put to bed for another year. I believe next year I’ll apply to be a teaching assistant, now more confident that I have the skills it takes to start giving lessons instead of only taking them. In the meanwhile I have a life to get back to. I have boxes to unpack, pictures to hang, a new relationship dynamic to wrap my brain around, and a whole world of career goals and adjustments to make.
The world keeps moving. I have to move with it, or get rolled over by it.
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