It’s Showtime in England
Thoughts on solo-travel, friendship, and why I think stage fright comes from a place of empathy, from a Paddington station coffee shop.
In a Paddington station coffee shop. I have six giant items with me. A piano. A suitcase. A bag of yarn. A bag of props. A backpack of books, journals, pens and highlighters. A purse with all my electronics. And a grocery bag of everything that didn’t fit in anywhere else. I look like a colorful 3D collage that somehow finds a way to attach this massive pile around my body and walk forward. I wouldn’t say I “blend in”.
I’m spending this month in England performing and workshopping my new hour-long comedy show. I just did my first full preview of it and I don’t want to spoil the show but we did spend 45 minutes vacuuming up confetti afterward…
As I’ve been bouncing around with a show’s worth of costumes, props, and instruments, I’ve been thinking a lot about the rhythm of traveling alone and all that’s special about it.
Here are some (solo) travel tips, in case you’re looking:
It’s not just about how much you can hold, it’s about how much you can carry. (There is symbolism in this)
Don’t wear rings. Your fingers will likely fall off or your rings will bend if you wear them while lugging a heavy suitcase or carrying a heavy backpack. (My fingers are still intact, but barely.)
Keep your toothbrush someplace accessible. I don’t really have an addendum to this, it’s just, I find myself needing to brush my teeth fairly often to feel a sense of rebirth in a sweaty travel journey, and it’s a pain if it’s in your suitcase.
I’ve been traveling with a keyboard in a massive black case and get asked, “do you have a body in there?” Approximately 3-5 times per every journey with it. This isn’t a tip. Just an update of what to expect should you find yourself in this position, too.
Traveling is a constant check-in with yourself. I constantly have to ask myself what I need. Coffee? WiFi? Directions? To sit down? Water? It’s one of the most present activities in the world. It’s a quick and great way to get to know your needs, because you can’t get very far without being in tune with them. You have to sit with yourself for a long time, so, get ready for all the thoughts that find you when you are alone. It’s brutal. And beautiful. Or, brutiful, as I like to say. Embrace the self-check in.
Try not to complain about how tiring travelling was or about how heavy your bags are or how long your day was. I mean, you can, but… they’re boring complaints. Complaints when you’re traveling are good problems. It feels like you’re the only one who could possibly be this sweaty or gross or carrying six bags, or who has ever had this many delays or missed trains but, you’re not. And I’m not. That’s just the nature of going from one place to another with a lot of stuff. Find the fun in it, but don’t complain. Complaining about travel is boring to hear and boring to say. Talk about the interesting parts, the fun parts, the good people you’ll meet along the way. Because you definitely will.
You can never have enough underwear. Seriously.
Show Time, Friend Time, Healing Time!
I spent this past week staying with and gigging with two of my all time favorite people and comedians, Chelsea Birkby and Alex Farrow in Birmingham, Bristol, London, and Oxford. It was one of the best weeks of my life. Is there any better feeling than feeling like you can be yourself with someone? That’s how it feels like being with Chelsea and Alex. Like a big exhale.
I previewed my new hour-long show for the first time, and had so much fun. I’ll say more as I understand more, but for now I’ll leave it at: I gave a lot, I risked a lot, I tried a lot, and I loved every minute. And, here’s a really cool review!
Chelsea and I met last August. We both went to the Ecole Philippe Gaulier for a two week clown workshop. We were quick friends. When we were assigned costumes for our clowns, Chelsea was given the costume of a “baby”, and I was given the costume of a “fuckable brothel owner”. Chelsea pointed out to me then that she thinks perhaps he assigns costumes based on the parts of ourselves we reject. As the year has gone on, I feel that he assigns these costumes based on the parts of ourselves we might reject because we fear them.
I didn’t realize how afraid of my body and my sexuality I still was until I was asked to go on stage and lead with these parts. To have fun and find joy and pleasure in the parts of myself I didn’t think mattered much as long as I was witty. Maybe I thought my body was a backdrop to my words. But, I’m a physical person. I always have been. I love to dance. I love to pole dance. I love basketball. I love dancing big and finding words and characters through movement. I just hadn’t let all the pieces click yet. They’re still clicking. It’s not that I resented my body, I just didn’t know, or hadn’t accepted, how much joy it really, fully, held for me as a performer.
Putting on that costume was a big step in helping heal my relationship with my body. I had so much fun. I felt in complete control. Not at first - at first I felt completely out of control. But the more I wore it, the more fun I had. The more I discovered. The more I wanted to be on stage in that way. The more free I became.
I feel like clowning has helped heal so many parts of myself. I now say this joyfully: I love my body. I love what I get to do with it. I love the way I get to play with it on stage. I love the stories it tells. I love what I discover through moving it.
I love everything it can say without me ever saying a word.
I think stage fright comes from a place of empathy.
I hate when people ask “how do you get rid of stage fright” - as if it were something you have to rid yourself of before you can do anything good. Similarly to that feeling of “I can only make something once I have a clean space” or “I can only wear a bikini once I look however I think someone wearing a bikini should look”.
If anything, I’ve only gotten more stage fright as I’ve gotten older. The better you get at something, the more people expect, the more I expect of myself.
I’ve thought a lot about the fear that accompanies performance. I don’t think it’s such a bad thing. I think it’s important to be afraid. Fear tells us when to run, it warns us when something is wrong and that we need to be scared so we can do something about it. Fear is a confidante. Fear is an important guiding post, and fear is a natural side effect of performance.
I think the misconception is that fear in performance is fear of embarrassment.
I’m not afraid of being embarrassed on stage. In fact, a lot of what I do on stage would be embarrassing to a lot of people. If anything, I like embarrassing myself. I like finding the fun in that.
My stage-fear is a fear of wasting people's time. That they won’t love me. That they’ll have wanted to feel something or laugh and I’ll let them down. That I’ll let my doubt get in the way of my performance, and then I won’t give them the gift they paid for.
My fear is that the people watching will wish they were somewhere else. That they’ll wish they were anywhere else, because of me. I think fear on stage comes from a deep sense of empathy. I want to help whoever needs or wants feel something joyful and happy. Being a performer means I have the power to give them that, which means I also have the power to not give them that. If I mess up, I risk their joy. It’s important to care about their joy. It’s important to care about the audience. You have to care. Otherwise, you’re just someone on stage with people watching that you don’t care about and that’s sad. Attention is a gift. An audience giving you their attention because you promise you’ll make them feel something if they listen, is a gift.
Hold onto your fear. It is a good friend if you don’t invite it over all the time. It can’t be your only friend. But it should be one of them. Fear is only dangerous when it comes alone. But it’s beautiful when it comes because you care so much. Because you love what you’re about to share so much, and you hope who’s watching will leave feeling a spark of something beautiful.
Maybe you can be afraid, and excited, and joy-filled, all at once, and in fact, when something matters, I hope we all are.
All my love,
Lanessa
Listening List:
Space Cowboy - Kacey Musgraves (an all time favorite song. I’ve run, cried, driven, and danced to this song, and it just always seems to come back to me.)
Butterflies - Kacey Musgraves (This was the theme song for the month of April. Felt like a constant flurry of butterflies from everything beautiful.)
Blackberry Stone - Laura Marling (Chelsea recommended!)
That’s Where I Am - Maggie Rogers
Solar Power - Lorde
Class of 2013 - Mitski (Chelsea showed me Mitski’s tiny desk concert which I hadn’t seen and her performance was so intense. I loved this one, especially, but the whole arc is worth watching)
You Shadow - Sharon Van Etten (S.V.E. Introduced to me by Joseph Ivan Long!)
Heatwaves - Glass Animals
Still With You - Shade Garden (I’ve been crying to ballads from J.M. Long a.k.a. Shade Garden a.k.a. my brother Jeremy, since I was 13 years old, but this one truly gets me every time.)
Brutal - Olivia Rodrigo
Slut Pop - Kim Petras (Chelsea introduced! Listened to get pumped up in the car on our drive to Bristol.)
Because the Night - Patti Smith
Carolina in My Mind - James Taylor (listened with my friend Rosa’s flat in East London while she made pancakes at the end of my trip)
Lilacs - Waxahatchee (Introduced to me by my friend Sean Quetulio, when he visited me in Oregon last year.)
Chaise Longue - Wet Leg (Isle of Wight duo that my bandmate Emma introduced me to last fall when I visited her there to play the Isle of Wight Festival with our college formed band, Lavender Oil. Have loved them since.)
Photos In Order:
Brothel owner clown costume, featuring Philippe backdrop, August 2021
Chelsea and I, after getting children’s sized “best friend” necklaces on a walk, August 2021
A still from first show full-preview, Oxford, April 14, 2022
Angel Comedy, London, April 13, 2022
Brothel owner clown costume, featuring actual Philippe, August 2021
Last stop at Oxford Parkway station, leaving England after making and traveling with a new show, April 2022
