MyHeritage: Celebrity Collage – Genealogy research – Genealogy tree

I will resume work on the blog, and with the Leten Reroll experiment, on Monday, June 8th from my new nook in Kansas City. 

Farewell, East Coast; farewell, New England.  You have treated me well, educated me, and only occasionaly yelled at me in liberal condensation.  It was fun.  Thanks.

Coleman: This is just a snapshot question: how do you feel about theatre today?

Peter: I think — I think it [theatre] has an incredible amount of potential. But I think most of it is safe and most of it is pretty boring. But I — that doesn’t mean that I don’t, you know, I see a lot of plays and I know you do we all do, but being a teacher, you know, going to my students work, and making sure as an artist that I expose myself to a play that everyone says is amazing and it got to go, you know — there is some moments of sublime things that I see happening, glimmers of hope, things that happened only for a moment. And it keeps me — it keeps me going back. I used to operate more (to be honest) sense of tear it all down and anger, you know, in the sense of: this is all bad and it all needs to be changed, every single thing I see. And certainly I do think, as I said, that a lot of theatres — there is this great quote: “most of art is boring.” And even though I feel that, I still see things that give me hope. So I think that theatre is something that right now, is in transition, and it has a lot to untapped potential, you know. I’m afraid that modern audiences are very intelligent (I mean, I’m not afraid, I’m afraid to say that that’s the truth, I’m not afraid of that truth), but the truth is that modern audiences are very smart, are very facile, and they can read stories, because of the digital age and because of media and because we’re constantly inundated with language and words on the radio, the Internet, e-mail, and stuff and imagery, it constantly, you know, constantly inundated with imagery — audiences are very savvy and very smart, you know. And I don’t know if theatre is actually looking into the intelligence of an audience. Audiences can watch stories forwards backwards diagonally and sideways. You know, they can juggle many different kinds of ideas at once, more themes, because we’re just exposed to them, our brains are just working this way now because of the way our world works. And I’m afraid that theatre sometimes, you know, isn’t turning on those minds, isn’t educating in these — maybe theatre feels like it has to, like — instead of actually saying the audience is extremely intelligent so we need to make our stuff smarter; the audience is incredibly facile so we need to make our stuff have a lot of variety and be very facile in its style and what happens on stage, performance and stuff, instead we think it needs — they better be 90 minutes and probably should have a happy ending, of some kind. So there is a dumbing down of theatre. And that goes back to selling tickets, because, you know, I don’t go to the theatre because it is something that is going to turn on my mind, it is something that I do like castor oil. I go because my wife wants me to go and, “Oh, God, I hope it’s a short one and it’s funny,” you know? It is something we have in a relationship with an obligatory way, a lot of people. I’m not talking about artists, now, you know. But I think maybe that’s because they have not seen, you know — like I think that people think that Shakespeare is boring — probably true, in most productions but that’s because you haven’t seen a good production. And maybe we have to do away with boring productions of Shakespeare for a while so that we can do something else, so that we can find out, so that we can make sure and make way for Shakespeare whose growing up, is 14 years old in Baltimore, who is not going to get an opportunity to ever see a play, let alone write one. You know, so, I don’t know.

I’m going to ask you again a question we sort of had before: when I say theatre tribe, what do you think?

Well, yeah. This is where: the e-mail, I say it again. When I said this I meant tongue-in-cheek, but I meant it also for real. Which is: theatre tribe: I’m a theatre tribe. I am a tribe. I’m in a tribe. I’m in many tribes. Your tribe is sort of like, to me, the people, the family, the collective group around which you create and you make your work and you have similar, you share values and principles. And it doesn’t necessarily have to be theatre company, it doesn’t necessarily have to be some ensemble-based/devised theatre that is very specific, you know. We haven’t worked together, but if said we did and we had a good working relationship and we find out that we really like a lot of the same things in this working relationship and then we do another play and we do a few more plays. And you are freelancing artists and I’m a freelancing artist: you’re in my tribe, you know, because when I think who do I want to work on this, who would be good, you know, I’m gonna call Coleman up and he’s good to be great in this part and I want to bring him in — you know, what I think people are trying to do most of the time is try to get as many people from there try, or their theatrical lifeboat, you know, into the place they are working on. That is why people love to hire their friends, you know. We all want to make work the way we all want to make work with who we want to make it with, you know. And I think that I have a very, you know loose idea of tribe. In the sense that it’s the people you want to make work with. You know, the people you keep wanting to — you keep finding yourself making work with because you keep choosing to make work with those people, even when the last show didn’t go so well, even when you didn’t make that much money, even when you’ve fought about how it should tour or you had a surplus of funds at the end and you disagreed completely about what should be done with it, and you wanted it to go back to the actors and they wanted to put it back in the kitty, you know, the bank. It doesn’t matter, the tribe transcends these negotiations, in some way.

You use the word tribe quite a few times when you were describing successful theatre.

Absolutely. I think it goes back to the idea that theatre was born out of a tribe. The tribe is the seed of what theatre is: a collective of people — I hate going back to Greece because we know that, we say that that is not the beginnings of theatre, but it is a great metaphor for what we are talking about. A group of dancers/singers/actors with flutes and drums and masks on a hillside telling a story to one other larger group of assembled people for the purpose of worship, for the purpose of entertainment, for the purpose of education, all of the above, is a tribe. You know, it is essentially a tribe. A group of Renaissance actors or medieval actors traveling from town to town on a horse-drawn cart doing medieval morality plays in this town square, in that town square, it is a tribe, you know.

I just want to point out something that you just said, rather at one point out the way in which you said it. You said that a tribe is a group of musicians/actors/dancers gathering for worship or whatever and then you said it also included another group of people watching than you said “that is a tribe.” I just want to point out that your tribe included both groups.

Yeah. Absolutely. I think that is why rehearsal was called rehearsal and a play is called a play. We are not a tribe, the circle is not completed until the other group (the larger group hopefully) will come in and watch. And what we’re doing is what we created in this tribe, we are sharing what we have created, we are basically opening the circle up and closing around all of those new people. So you feel like when a play is successful and you somehow feel like you’re part of those singer/actor/ dancer/musicians, you are in that world, you are that person on that stage, you know.

Peter Sampieri is a mid-career director and teacher based in the Boston area. His credits include many, many successful theatrical productions up and down the Eastern seaboard as well as work in Chicago and California. I am deeply appreciative of his time and graciousness. These interviews were conducted in April, 2009.

Peter: I just think that in order — I guess I believe that — I believe in discipline and work ethic as an artist. And I believe that it’s not something that is ethereal, I believe it is a craft. It is like being an athlete or building a house ordered something that the more you do and the more opportunities you get to do, the better you become at, you know. So it is more important to me to do, if I choose to do (that’s important too) if I want to do seven, direct seven plays a year or direct 45 plays a year at various different levels, you know, at universities and colleges, professionally with the company that I’m working with, you know, whatever. That’s more important than doing one play year, to me. Because I want to always be working, always be working, you know. I thrive on that, as a person, my personality thrives on that, you know?

And one would say, perhaps, most artists need that: to keep creating, to be an artist.

Yeah, absolutely. I mean, I think, yeah. One of the defining factors [of an artist] is an urgent need to create. So, I have that urgent need, and I feel that urgent need fulfilled in the living circumstances, right now, of my life for the last 10 years or so. I have been able to fulfill that urge regularly.

So what would a theatre do to support that?

To support me?

Sure. To support a successful artist. If we are defining that as a successful –

well, I think it kind of goes back to something we were talking about in our last session: which is just the idea that — and I’ll say again, no matter what level — and certainly there are companies that are defining this norm, and I’m proud of those companies that exist and I don’t know that I could name them all — the idea that artists really aren’t at the center of the hub, that they are really not really the reason — really they are the — nominally, in the brochures and mission statements theatres will say, that is why they exist. But when you look at the pay sheet, the payroll, that is actually not what you see. What is said is not actually what is being practiced, there is a conflict between the actions and the statements of the theatre, you know. And I think the first step is to put artists back into a central place. And that theatres exist not to pay artistic directors and board members — I guess most board members don’t get paid — but executive directors and administrative people, but they exist around actors, directors, writers, designers, technicians. That those people are at the core and there is a recognition in the way that they are treated, and in the way they are paid, in the way — in every aspect of theatre that those people aren’t the, you know, without those people there would be no theatre, you know. And I am sure that administrative people could argue that without a computer and the guy answering a telephone and taking subscriptions (assuming that we are using subscriptions) or someone who is working box office, there would be no tickets and there would be no people coming in. Maybe, you know. Maybe. I think what happens, perhaps, is that if we do away with those folks, which we may not be able to anymore in our modern society, but at least we can create equity. You know? It is just a shame that — the problem is, that actors and artists are always competing, you know. The unspoken thing is, that there is a guy standing right behind you with sandy blond hair and striking blue eyes who looks just like you, and can do what you’ll do, who will do it for half the money. Because his mom and dad, or because he is independently wealthy or whatever, you know, there is a guy standing right behind you who will do it for less. And so some ways that is the way in which we are, in a community of artists, are our own worst enemy: that we don’t work together. We don’t work together to demand a wage. I understand that that’s the principle of unions, but I think we would all agree that the unions that exist, you know, and I then one of them and I pay my dues and I believe in unions, have not necessarily followed through on their promise, they don’t really find living wages for their artists, you know. And certainly that is only the artists that are in the unions. What about everybody else? There are so many, you know. In order to become the union it is this catch 22 you have to get a union job, you know, so you can’t be in a union — you can’t get a union audition unless you’re in the union, but you can’t get in the union unless you have a union job. So, yeah, I think it has to do with bringing the artists back to the center of the wheel. Giving them fair pay. Building theatres around them, you know, as opposed to letting them fight for whatever scraps are thrown just for the opportunity to act. See, the idea is that, like, acting is its own reward because were artists, you know. Which it is because we talked about the urgent need, but it does not mean — these things are not mutually exclusive, just because being an artist is its own reward, it doesn’t mean that we should allow our artists to be grossly underpaid, or undertreated, or disrespected, with the structures of the organization. So, the organization as we know it may need to die, you know, and something new may need to be born in its place. And I think that that is already happening at a lot of small, independent companies that work on the basis of being a collective where power is more shared and is less of a hierarchical structure (that is not without its problems too). You know, design by committee can drive me insane, having worked for some of these companies that design by committee and everything is a collective, you know. Especially when you’re in a position as a director, it is much easier for your psychology to just answer to one person; to have to go to one person and say, “I need more money,” and go to one person to say “I want to move the seats around. Can you make — and I will or I want them do this, I want to do this play on the sidewalk, can you help me.” Versus: I have to go to 10 people in all 10 people have to agree that we’re gonna do the play on the sidewalk, you know? But maybe that friction is a good one. You know, maybe that shared weight is a good idea, I don’t know.

So I want to try to tackle the successful theatre question again. Because I think some of these ideas are –

yeah, I guess this is good because now we’re talking about it so, yeah, I mean, I think you can hear, you’re hearing me say and I’m hearing myself say (certainly not for the first time), that a successful theatre is one in which all members of the organization or collective or tribe or group are treated with equal respect. All members are treated with — as if they have intrinsic value, that they are given the opportunity to do what they do best: to create, or to administer it, or do what they do. And they see each other as completely crucial to the fabric of the organization. They don’t see — I think the problem is that we see each other as dispensable. Like the people in the offices may see– oh will just — the people — the cliché of the capitalist with the cigar and 10 phones on the desk is saying “Ah, we’ll just find another actor. Actors are desperate.” We’ll just get somebody else and they say that because it’s true, because they can. And maybe the actors and the designers and the directors say, “who is that horrible box office manager who has a personality of a drink of water? That stage manager is the worst I’ve ever worked with, fire her, get rid of her.” The idea that we’re drawing lines in the sand and we see each other as expendable, you know, as opposed to crucial; that we couldn’t be — we aren’t Coleman Crenshaw company without Peter. We can’t be this company without Coleman. He made — his presence makes us what we are, in fact, we only are the amalgamation of, you know — it’s not you, even though your face is on all of the brochures, you know. And it’s not me — it’s something that happens out in space between us when we get in a room, as actor and director, as producer and artistic director, as manager — you know, whatever, that makes this place, you know, what it is. And, I don’t know, so I think that that is one of the first, that would be to me one of the first things, that you know– and it’s funny because we are not even talking about aesthetics, I mean we are, we’re not even talking about art, were talking about working conditions and values, like holistic values, with which to build an organization, you know. Maybe we shouldn’t let theatres get any larger than 150 people. There is this great thing in the Tipping Point by Malcolm Gladwell where he talks about Gore-Tex, you know, or one of the— he is like as soon as they realized there was a certain number of employees at one plant at a time when they were growing really fast (these are the people that make the jackets and the, you know, weather-proof jackets and shit) and, basically, they realize that once they got to a certain number, that they could no longer work as kind of a family or a collective or a tribe. That this many people: 125 people, 150 people, 15 people, whatever the number is that you decide, makes us too big to really respect each other as individuals, you know. We start to become something else to each other.

This is just a snapshot question: how do you feel about theatre today?

Tune in next time for Peter’s fascinating answers and more questions!

Where are my boxers,
In boxes identical,
Packed hours ago?

Priorities

Nine boxes for books,
Two for clothes, one for kitchen.
I’ve too many clothes

Craig’s List?

Couch: Great for sleeping
But is too big for moving.
Loan it for one year?

Peter: Well it’s not that different. Funnily enough, it’s not that different. To do what we do, the life of — what drives people away from what we do is the fact that it’s not consistent. It’s completely inconsistent. The pay is inconsistent. The working conditions are inconsistent. The hours are inconsistent. From project to project to project there is not necessarily one way of doing it. Which, I think, turns people like us on. It is why we keep doing it. Maybe we have short attention spans, maybe we like that variety, maybe we like that challenge, maybe we get bored, you know, with some kind of 9-5 experience. But, you know, I think unless you are a fixture in some sort of company, yeah, and you can actually make a salary or a living off of that company, whether it is regional or small professional or whatever, you know. Then you can fall into a groove where you have a way of working. You know? You are an actor in this company Coleman, so we have money to pay you, we pay for your work and you get — you do this many shows and you can apply through your union for health insurance– we rehearse fortysomething hours a week. We generally rehearse from 10 AM in the morning to six o’clock at night with a lunch break. And every time you do a play with us that is your experience. That is a rare experience, you know. I think. For me, that has been a rare experience. Even though I have been a director at those types of companies, that’s more of a — and company to company it’s very different, the schedule is different, you know, even — the quality of work may be better, or the same, or different, but the schedule can be very different, you know?

What is a successful theatre to you?

That is a hard question. (Sorry.) It’s okay. Can you do find the word success?

Yes, I can. But I would rather hear what it means to you.

Yeah. Well, I realized I was going to start talking about something that doesn’t have anything to do with money. And then I thought, hmm, you may mean, or may, you know, some other people would define– many other theatre artists would define themselves as a company that, or a successful theatre as one that can pay its actors and its artists a fair wage, you know.

Yeah, but for you?

Can we pass? I would like to sort of come back — I’d like to talk more about something else and maybe find my way back into that question through the back door.

Okay. Well, let me follow up on something you said a little bit earlier about the difference between Boston and Providence in New York. Basically you said, essentially they are the same, it is catch as catch can. So, in that situation, why not move to New York?

Well, frankly, I think because there is the quality of life, the cost of living is so high. Here, here: That reminds me of an interesting thing I can tell you about the whole “to New York, not to New York” thing. I am sure that somebody else would say the opposite, I’m sure that I could get into a healthy debate, I would love to get into a healthy debate with someone, but — a common experience that I have is I will contact someone who I either went to graduate school with or have worked with seven or 10 years ago will contact me (e-mail or phone call, or I’ll call them just to say hi, to check in on them) and you get, I often get, because I tend to be a person who people like to talk to — I don’t mean that in an arrogant way, I just mean like to confide in, or like to call and work things out with, I’m a good listener, you know — they will call me and say, “hey Pete, how is it going, is everything good?” And I’ll say, “yeah, everything’s great. I’m teaching and directing these shows and it’s fun and I’m having a good time.”And I can tell there is something wrong with their voice, this is sort of the New York artist I’m talking about. And I say, “hey, what’s up? I can see that, or hear that you are depressed. Is everything all right?”And they say, “oh yeah.” And I say, “well, what are you doing right now? You know, you are an actor or a playwright so are you writing any plays? Send me your next, or your most recent play. Send me an e-mail about what you are working on.” “Oh, I’m not working on anything.” “What do you mean, you know? When is the last time you worked on something or when is the last time” – “Oh, about six months or eight months or 10 months ago.” And I say, “well what happened? Because you moved to New York to be a professional actor.” And they say “well,” frankly they say, “well I have to work so much, so many hours a week to pay my rent, I’m a waiter, and I work doubles shifts six days a week, and all the auditions are happening at a time when I can’t — I have to work or I won’t be up to make my rent, or pay my health insurance, or,” you know, whatever it is, “my subway pass.” So what I find is, in certain some metropolitan areas, where the cost of living is so high the story that I get is, from a lot of my colleagues and friends, they moved to New York to act, they moved to New York to direct, they moved to New York to write, and if they are self sustains — and that is an important distinction, yeah, because if mom and dad are paying their rent they don’t have this problem, yeah. If mom and dad bought them at loft in Gramercy Park they aren’t struggling in quite the same way. But, if they are self-sustaining they have difficulty. Because the demands of that city, the real estate in that city alone, never mind producing theatre, I’m just talking about renting an apartment, the demands of real estate in the cost of this city alone can be crippling to artists, you know. But it is still where all the artists want to be. And there’s a reason for that, it is one of the greatest cities in the world. You go there and the culture and what you could be exposed to in a day, in an afternoon, which — but I think that, unfortunately, because society, or the world, or money markets being what they are that, you know, they also have to subject themselves to the demands of that, you know? So survival becomes important, more important in some ways — survival as just a person takes precedence over survival as an artist. That is why I haven’t moved to the city. As I say, suddenly if I’m getting — if the theatre or a place, if I find myself getting more directing work, you know — and by the way I’m sure we can probably count on two hands, or maybe on our toes and hands, the amount of directors who are out there who are actually sustaining themselves by just directing plays. Probably, at regional theatres or off-Broadway and on Broadway’s in New York, who aren’t doing anything else, who aren’t teaching classes, who are receiving money from some, somewhere else, who aren’t independently wealthy, we can probably count on 10 fingers, maybe 20, you know, those people. So, it’s a rare thing, and I acknowledge that it is a tough thing. I have always liked my quality of life, you know. And I’ve always said, “well I’m grateful and would rather choose to work consistently even in an inconsistent way to always be working on something and not have to, you know, temp in an office because I need to bring home this many hundreds of thousands of dollars a week, you know?” Don’t get me wrong, I still have exorbitant student loans and things to cover, I still have something to cover. But I find a way to do that with teaching and directing and still manage to make a living and still manage to have a quality of life and keep working. Whereas some people I know, colleagues or friends, who moved to this city five or seven years ago, do one play a year ago, I’ve been able to do seven, you know, when I want to. And so for me that is why I’ve stayed in the Northeast, that’s why stayed in New England: 45 minutes to Boston, three hours by train to New York, you know, and been able to kind of do that, you know, circle dance.

So does that have something to do with — and I mentioned earlier a successful theatre — but it sounds to me like you are also here describing a successful artist.

Tune in next time for Peter’s fascinating answers and more questions!

I’m very excited for packing
My house into seven by nothing.
The couch upside-down,
But bed makes me frown.
This move will need Jedi-like stacking.

Don’t steal my stuff

With books on my shelf filling acres
And cutlery rivaling bakers’,
I’ve no need for big loxes,
I’ll fill up my boxes
With enough weight to herniate takers

Peter:  Well, there are three different experiences, so it is kind of hard to compare and could trash. One of them was an educational environment, and one of them was, you know, (Chicago) I was very much living and working at Northwestern University with students . With all the facilities of Northwestern University. You know, in New York, I am, and continue to work, in all kinds of environments from crappy, you know, rooms in a 12 story building. In one little room where we are presenting a workshop/staged reading to working off-Broadway at a reputable off-Broadway theatre, you know. In LA, I was also working at California State University. So I was living on a campus and sort of working with opera singers and using — sometimes I have the luxury in those cities of using and having facilities, sometimes I don’t.

Well, let’s focus on New York then. Because we are sort of already understanding the educational side. So let’s talk about the more professional side.

Catch as catch can. Yeah? I mean, the idea of you walk into a room and you go: “okay this is the room that the producer, the production manager, has rented or this is the room we all have thrown in $100 to rent. What a hellhole. How are we going to make this into a performance space. Or we’re not going to perform in this room, but it’s not even a good rehearsal space. How do we co-opt this space and make it, bend it to our will, you know?” And so I think that that is definitely an experience: The idea of figuring out how to make theatre anywhere in a nontraditional space.

Do you want to elaborate on your experience as a theatre artist in that space, instead of working in New York, the challenges, the good things, the bad things?

Do you want me to elaborate on –

Sure. In your role working in New York—

Yeah. Well it depends on what it was. You know, if it was a workshop, a staged reading, and we knew that in three hours. We’re going to have an audience and we knew that we only had three hours of rehearsal, then frankly, my job was to try to make the play, you know, staged the play in as an efficient, quickly, hopefully dynamic, but simple and clear way as possible so that the play could be heard. You know, I think different things are called of me as a director depending on the environment of the play, the performance itself is. If it is a workshop/staged reading of a new play than really — and that’s why I’m there, and that’s my interest of being there– and it is really more about presenting a new work in as clear a way so that the audience can hear and see it as possible. And then talk about it or be moved by its or more along to the next goal, you know. If it is a producer’s audition then I am trying to sort of get someone to be interested in the play, like a backers audition, like I’ve done, and maybe produce the play. That’s a very — and I only have two days to do it — that’s a very specific goal and has very specific criteria. If it is a new play, that is just being developed, you know, or were getting into a room and getting into a discussion. And that’s, there is no performance where people are coming in, then that’s another role, you know. In all I’m considered the dramaturg/Director/new play developer, but in terms of each one of them breaking down. I’m doing very different things in rehearsal. Sometimes I’m spending my time staging and acting coaching, and only doing those things. And sometimes I’m spending my time talking to the playwright about what’s, why this scene is in the play and exactly what it does for the action.

Let’s continue this interview next week. I have a few more questions for you, but we are out of time.

________________

I’m going to revisit a little bit the last thing we talked about [last week]. And a lot of these questions are very contextual so it is good to try and figure out where we were. The last thing we were talking about was what it was like to work in, sort of, one of the big three places for professional theatre: New York LA or Chicago. You had mentioned that each one of those places is very different. If you would, we decided to focus on New York because a lot of the other places you were in academic environment.

I was working in Chicago and LA it would be more difficult for me to speak directly to the professional experience because even though I was being paid as a professional, I was still in the structure of Northwestern University, or California State University. So I was a guest, so it is not quite the same as working at this theatre or that theatre and trying to cobble together at this theatre or this workshop. That was more like my New York experience.

Let’s revisit that. You mentioned this “cobbling together” of theatre experiences or creating theatre. Do you feel like that — tell me a little more about that. What was that experience like for you as a person, or as an artist?

How is it? It just sort of is. I’m sure that I prefer some other way, you know, of working, but I think at first — especially five years ago in my life when I had more free time and more energy and more wherewithal — it was about chasing down gigs, essentially: trying to kind of patchwork: so up a bunch of gigs together to try and make — to get some chops in the world of directing, more chops. And to work on your craft, but also to, frankly, to chase a paycheck and pay your bills and all of that stuff. You know, the New York based day, is the place to be for freelancing, you know. So even though there has been times I’ve lived with friends, kind of camped out, couch surfed, did this, did that, paid rent for six months or three months while I was doing this show. Mostly New York has been a place for me that I’ve gone to specifically to work. In other words, I have not yet done that thing that most of all of my contemporaries have done which is to move to New York City to, you know, (see my fingers wiggling) make it in New York. For me, I always felt like if I really needed to move to New York, the time came if the time arose for me to move to New York City because I was getting more work there than anywhere else, then I would move there. I am sure that is a double-edged sword because a lot of people would retort by saying that, you know, “well you’re never going to get the work until you move here,” you know. But, I’ve been fortunate enough and happy to do it this way, which is to get a gig through a playwright that I know, that I’ve made up connection with either in New York or outside of New York, through my agent, or through this person or that person. And come in for the three months of the gig, you know, as I say stay on somebody’s couch, do the gig, yeah, try to make it the best experience I can get out of it and then go back to Boston/Providence, or wherever I am living at the time. So that is sort of my New York experience. We talked a bit last week about — that’s very variegated, sometimes that means actually having a rehearsal space because the production agency, the production company, has money and they’re renting you out a space in Shepler Studios on 58th St. and you have the amenities of her rehearsals room. Sometimes it means catch as catch can add your working out of somebody’s living room or at least a garage or basement. And then you’re presenting a workshop production in some sort of loft in Brooklyn somewhere, you know. And I think that is sort of what I mean when I say cobbling together. It sort of means there is not a consistent, for me, there hasn’t been a consistent experience there, you know?

How does that compare to, say your experience in Providence or Boston?

Tune in next time for Peter’s fascinating answers and more questions!