Tuesday, March 14, 2006

Through a Mirror Dorkly


I know it seemed like these profiles were done now that the big show has started. On the contrary when I get these hot little pieces of brain candy I will send them out to you all as soon as I am able. Here is another country heard from and as always I enjoy every bit of this company member's world view.

If I have a female equivalent in this universe, I don't mean a soul mate or some sort of Platonic deal-y, I mean an equal based on the way she and I both view the world and how it should be interpreted, it would be Yasmin. She and I can be just as obscure as one another, some times we are so obscure we don't even get the joke we are making. She is a great movie companion and she is always a little ray of sun shine on a mostly over cast day, when the temps refuse to budge over 55˚. She has been in God of Vengeance, The Illusion, JB and Fair Ladies at a Game of Poem Cards. The one and only Yasmin Tuazon.

Peer pressure finally pays off. Let that be a lesson to all the youth out there trying to be independent thinkers.

1. Place of birth?

Alexandria, VA. Not the cute part. The condo and strip mall-choked part.
I was born a month prematurely, on mah jongg night. I figure that makes up for all my tardiness through the age of seven.

2. First experience in theater?

Second grade Christmas play: The First Silent Night.

I played Mother Mouse. My five kids were Ein, Zwei, Drei, Vier and Funf. Fortunately for the PTA, I stopped at five kids. Nevertheless, I was a single mother who couldn't feed or house those five kids. I think there was a hidden social/moral agenda in there somewhere. We were basically squatters in St. Nicholas' Church, Oberndorf, Germany. We were so hungry that my kids ate the leather bellows of the church organ, rendering it unplayable right before Christmas services. So choirmaster Joseph Mohr wrote a last-minute hymn to accommodate: Stille Nacht, more commonly known to the English-speaking Christmas-celebrating world as Silent Night.

Production note: On the morning of the play, Zwei's real-life mother realized he had no tail. (And we think we know our children.) So Zwei wore a tail made of my socks. It was my first exposure to the potential of sock theater, and I think it stuck with me.


3. Where you went to school?

St. Agnes School
University of Pennsylvania/Kings College London
National Theater Institute

4. What do you do?

Actor, Bikram yoga teacher, writer, reviser, editor, thief, procrastinator, nibbler, dropper, secret agent. This blog will self-destruct in 45 seconds.

5. What was your first experience with Rorschach?

Auditioning for Rhinoceros in the old Woolly space. It was very hot outside. I read with Josh Barrett, and while we were crawling on the floor, transforming into rhinoceri, he accidentally shouldered me in the nose. At least I think it was accidental. Neither of us were cast.

6. Company member you would most like to be if you were not yourself?

Tim Getman. There are so many reasons. Height, for one.

7. Some story about working on a Rorschach play that either made you laugh or touched you deeply?

During The Illusion, Grady brought in a homemade Little Wooden Boy for the set. On closing night, Scotty conducted a backstage Inside the Actors Studio interview of Little Wooden Boy. Both performances were frighteningly accurate and compelling.

8. Where do you think Rorschach will be in the next ten years?

Casa, Denmark, an abandoned brewery, Chicago, under the sink, Asia, appearing in a Spike Jonze video, 10th and Fairmont NW, in line at the grocery store, and running sneak performances of Sock Puppet Lear in the back room of H Street Playhouse when Theater Alliance isn't looking (or maybe they're just looking the other way, wink wink shhh).
Not necessarily in that order.

9. What is your favorite Rorschach show that you were not in?

Master and Margarita, Behold!, Accidental Death of an Anarchist. I enjoy well-choreographed chaos.

10. Scott McCormick harmless adolescent or world conquering super villain?

World conquering super villain, duh.

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