The Two Truly Best. Questions. Ever.
photo credit Judy Boyce
So, I just came back from finally getting out on the road again for three out of town shows in an out of the way corner of the state - complete with driving through rainstorms, beautiful diversity of accents, and good food (south Louisiana of course). The shows were in large halls or gymnasiums at public community centers, one a VFW hall, full of Parks and Recreation Dept. campers. Zero theater ambiance. Brilliant overhead lights. One space with two huge blow-up bounce house things blasting away throughout the show.
And the audiences were totally focused. Totally - like they were starving and didn’t realize puppet theater was exactly what they craved. And out of this, in post show meet-the-puppets and questions, I was asked the two best questions I have ever been asked.
# 1. Why do you make puppets?
I’ve been asked: How do you make puppets? (long story) What do you make puppets out of? (many materials) Where do you keep your puppets? (my studio in New Orleans) How many puppets have you made? (I don’t know - a lot) Who else is backstage with you? (no one) When did you start making puppets? (before you were born) But never why. I answered the 8 - 9 year old boy with something like, “Great question! I make puppets to be able to tell stories in a way that lets you see the same characters that I imagine.” But that wasn’t really a very good answer. The puppet is far more than a model of a character. In performance, it is the channel, the instrument of communication. During the living performance, the puppet is the point where my mind and heart embrace the minds and hearts of the willing believers. As I listen and feel the audience energy, I am acutely aware yet consciously oblivious to the current passing back and forth between us. Which brings me to the second question, asked by another 8 - 9 year old boy.
# 2. How do you make them alive up there?
This question asked AFTER I had brought several puppets out, shown them on and off my hands, so he was not asking how do you move them, because he had already seen that. And I had told them that I stand behind my black scrim curtain, holding my arms up in front of me. No, he wanted to know how they could be mere cloth puppets now, but have been actually alive during the show. I could only tell him that where they were alive was in his wonderful imagination - that I give them movement and voice, but he gives them life. And he asked, “So everyone does that?” as he gestured at the group. And I told him yes, every one of you does that. He nodded and seemed quite satisfied with that answer.