Category: theatre

art, books, inspiration, New York City, theatre, travel

My Year of Hopefulness – Chasing Down Inspiration

Christa Avampato

“You can’t wait for inspiration. You have to go after it with a club.” ~ Jack London, author

Before 2009, I used to think of inspiration a something that just hits us. I kept a folder of inspirational pictures, stories, quotes, and clippings that I trolled through when I needed some uplifting thoughts and none seemed to find me. I believed in writer’s block and the mystical muse of creativity who decided if, when, and how to show up in our lives. No more. After a year of actively seeking out hope and writing about it every day, I believe in the Jack London method, my inspiration-chasing club always at the ready.

In New York City, we’re lucky that chasing down inspiration means just putting on a pair of shoes and walking outside our doors. Inspiration is everywhere. We have a host of amazing museums that I visit frequently (thanks to my employer’s fantastic perk that gets us into almost every museum in New York for free!) Central Park and Riverside Park are two blocks away from my apartment. Broadway, off-Broadway, and off-off Broadway are burgeoning with some of the most inventive work to come along in decades. Bookstores are on nearly every corner, and there is no shortage of fascinating lectures, readings, and continuing ed classes in every subject, at every level. And if all else fails, just take a walk around the block, any block. You’re sure to find some characters.

In other cities, some much smaller than New York, inspiration abound as well. In Orlando, Florida, I found the largest collection of Tiffany glass in the world. In Charlottesville, Virginia, I had some of the best meals of my life. In my own hometown of Highland, New York, the view from the Catskill Mountains still takes my breathe away. In Providence, Rhode Island, I saw one of the finest productions of Moon for the Misbegotten that I’ve ever seen.

Inspiration is everywhere – all we need to do is get out into the world and look. We can travel thousands of miles from home, or we can hang around in our own backyard. What matters is the pursuit: do we want to be inspired and are we willing to “sift the sands of the desert to see what we can find,” as Clarissa Pinkola Estes says so eloquently in Women Who Run with the Wolves? If the answer is yes, then there are adventures upon adventures just waiting for us to hope on board. And if you can get your hands on a big club, that may help, too.
The image above is not my own. It can be found here.
career, change, dreams, hope, theatre

My Year of Hopefulness – Climb Up A Ways

Christa Avampato

One of the first Broadway shows I worked on was Cabaret at Studio 54. I would sit in the back of the theatre night after night and watch that story unfold, every show more beautiful than the show before. One of my favorite lines is from Herr Schultz (played by Ron Rifkin) to Fräulein Schneider (played by Blair Brown). Herr Schultz is trying to convince Fräulein Schneider to enter into a relationship with him, despite the fact that he is Jewish and the world is looking a little bleak for people of his heritage. He tells her that the apples at the base of tree are easy to pick up, though the fruit at the top of tree, if she is willing to climb up a ways, is so much sweeter. I worked on that show almost 11 years ago, and still I think of that line and how applicable it is to our lives every day.

I feel comfortable admitting in this blog post that very soon I will be moving on to a new position in my career. I’ve had an honest conversation with my boss and explained my intentions. I hope she understands. At the end of the day, the future of her team that she’s laid out is just not what gets me going. I completely understand that she’s in charge of the team and has every right to change the direction of the bus. My obligation is to decide whether or not to whole-heartedly get on the bus. I’ve decided to actively look for a new bus, and there are some stupendous options on the horizon.

Some people think I’m a little crazy for making this move. I’ve done a lot of good work in my position; I’ve built solid relationships that would serve me so well and get me promoted quickly. If only I could put my head down, keep my mouth shut, and phone it in just the way that I’ve been scripted, I’d be just fine. I could coast right through to the end of this recession no matter how long it lasts.

Those who know me a bit better just smile and nod when I say I’m looking for new opportunities that get me up out of bed in the morning. They know I’m not built for coasting. Yes, coasting is much easier in that it requires no exertion on my part. The trouble is that for me coasting is just an unbearable existence. Putting the pedal to the metal and ‘trying to get up that great big hill of hope’ is more my style. Herr Schultz was right: The vistas up there are so much wider and more open and beautiful. Fräulein Schneider didn’t know what she was missing.

The photo above is not my own. It can be found here.

children, education, innovation, social entrepreneurship, theatre

My Year of Hopefulness – In the Beginning

Christa Avampato

“There will come a time when you believe everything is finished. That will be the beginning.” ~ Louis L’Amour


Today marked an end and then a beginning, in one single action. After almost a year of considering how I might help children in public schools in New York City, I mailed off two packages, one to Bronx Charter School for the Arts and one to M.S. 223. Inside the packages is a folder with a cover letter, my resume, and an 8-page concept paper that outlines an after-school program that I’d like to pilot beginning in January 2010. The after-school program uses theatre to teach innovation, product development, and entrepreneurship to 6th grade students.

The journey to the concept paper was a long and winding road:

Early Summer of 2008
Began to consider how I could build an on-line innovation kit for kids

August 2008
Changed jobs and got involved in an at-work volunteer program with Junior Achievement of New York. Wondered if I missed my calling and should become a public school teacher.

December 5, 2008
Volunteered for a day-long program at M.S. 223 in the Mott Haven neighborhood of the South Bronx. Felt scared, responsible, and at home, all at once. I taught economics for a day to 7th graders. I got more of an education than the students did that day. Have been thinking about those kids every day since.

May 17, 2009
Started building my first draft of the concept paper, initially named “Innovation Workbook”. It was terrible. I was afraid to show it to anyone because I’d thought they’d laugh at the idea. Put my fears aside and kept working.

June 3, 2009
Wrote the first draft of a mission statement, or what I termed “A Reason for Being”. It was awful, though I began to think that I might be on to something.

mid-June 2009
Began to talk to some friends about the concept. No one laughed; they got very excited about the idea and that got me more excited. They had great ideas. I used all of them to build a better concept. My friend, Liz, offered the idea to make this an after-school program rather than try to build it in to the traditional curriculum.

July 4th weekend, 2009
I started sending a rough draft of the concept paper to my friends who offered their ideas and were excited about the project. I knew the paper was terrible but the idea was getting better. My friends offered more help, more advice. The concept kept getting better.

July 23, 2009
Named the project Innovation Station while laying on my couch, unsuccessfully trying to take a nap. Decided to use short theatre scripts as a way to communicate the material.

Early August 2009
While reading the book, Eiffel’s Tower, decided to feature famous innovators throughout history as part of Innovation Station.

August 2009
Continued to revise the concept paper, did more research. Many friends suggested I dig into data to prove the need and value of my program. Was startled by the statistics I read about after-school programming and public school education in inner-cities. Kept shopping around my ideas and taking any and all suggestions. Wrote 8 full drafts in total.

September 15, 2009
Heard about Bronx Charter School for the Arts. Researched them and thought they may be a good fit for Innovation Station. Put them on the very short list with M.S. 223.

September 22, 2009, afternoon
Made a few last minute edits, and dropped the proposals in the mail to M.S. 223 and Bronx Charter School for the Arts in the hopes that one of them will be the pilot program location.

September 22, 2009, evening
Waiting. Hoping. Nervous Excited.

My friend, Jamie, went to the post office with me to put the packages in the mail. I adore him, even though he can be a little curmudgeonly at times. He is exceedingly generous with help, advice, and contacts, despite his rough around the edges personality. It comes from being so brilliant and highly educated. He is one of the friends I count on to keep me grounded. I try to add more whimsy into his life. “So what do you do now?” he asked. I hadn’t thought of what I’d do now; I guess I have been worried that I’d just edit myself to the point of being paralyzed. I never imagined myself sealing up the envelopes and dropping them in the mail. I guess I was worried that I’d never figure it out. “I wait,” I said to Jamie.

This morning, my old friends, Fear and Self-ridicule, were back with a vengeance. Maybe this was a stupid idea. Maybe it would never help anyone. Maybe no school would ever be interested. Who am I to think I can write curriculum? I began reading and editing again. And something truly miraculous happened. As I re-read the proposal, I got more excited. I began to think that maybe, maybe, maybe this was the beginning on the a life-changing road for me. Just as I was finishing the proposal, I thought “this might be the beginning of something really exciting. I just might be able to help some kid who’s facing the same circumstances I faced when I was that age.” And with that thought I sealed up the packages and headed for the post office.

Fearing that I’d have a last minute panic attack, I quickly put the packages under the slotted window for the postman to grab and stamp. There was no turning back once he tossed them into the bin. And away they went, into the abyss of mail, on a very simple mission to try to make a difference in one kid’s life. I ran for the door and never looked back. I had to get on with my beginning.
books, change, movie, play, theatre

My Year of Hopefulness – A Life in Three Acts

Christa Avampato

With such beautiful weather in New York today, I headed to the park to continue reading Street Gang: The Complete History of Sesame Street. At the start of chapter 16, Michael Davis opens with the line “sometimes life in like the movies, a story in 3 acts.” I’ve been thinking about that line, particularly with respect to my post from yesterday about being in a state of flux with a dash of confusion.

Davis reminded me that in act 2, there is always a series of challenges that the protagonist has to work through. I wonder now at the ripe old age of 33 if I’m at the tail end of the first act or have just entered the second act of my life. This slight act of separation, some might call it delusion, helped me think a little more clearly today. I’m able at this moment to step away from my life a bit, and just observe what’s happening in context of a broader set of possible outcomes.

It also helps to know that in every great story there are always twists and turns, that few if any read like fairy tales of sweetness and light. There are fairy tale moments, though they tend to not be the ones that are the most interesting or insightful. The trade-off for learning and insight is often a bit of struggle and discomfort. It involves rising when all we feel like doing is laying low. It asks us to be greater spirits than we believe we can be.

Surviving and thriving through act 2 requires us to take a deep breathe, several if necessary, put our heads down, and get to work, on ourselves and on the exterior circumstances that effect us so that we can sail into act 3, riding high, wiser and more certain of our direction. It helps if our co-stars, friends and family, can help us – a protagonist rarely appears in act 3 triumphant as an island. Guides and assistance often appear as the plot lines intertwine with growing complications, exactly when we need them.

A story takes a while to unravel, to reveal itself to the audience, and to the protagonist. There will be moments of confusion and tough choices to make. It’s all part of the drama and the comedy; it’s all part of life.

art, entrepreneurship, Examiner, theatre

NY Business Strategies Examiner.com: In the Heights

Christa Avampato

My latest post on Examiner.com – A look at the Broadway show, In the Heights, from a business perspective: http://www.examiner.com/x-2901-NY-Business-Strategies-Examiner~y2009m3d10-In-the-Heights–a-case-of-entrepreneurship-in-the-arts

art, New York City, theatre

My Year of Hopefulness – In the Heights

Christa Avampato

Way back when, I was a very poor new college grad, working for a Broadway management office, and living just off of 190th Street. Despite the long train ride, it was one of the very best experiences of my life to live in that neighborhood. I was the only non-Dominican on my block and I was enchanted by their culture. Maybe even a little jealous of them. At night in my current apartment, I sometimes think back to 190th Street (Wadsworth Terrace, actually) and remember the endless game of dominoes played on that street corner “at the top of the world”. Sometimes, I miss it.

Tonight I went to see In the Heights with my friend, Monika. Brilliant, funny, and poignant, it reminded me of all the things I love about live theatre. The music, acting, dancing, writing, and singing made it one of the very best all-around shows I’ve ever seen. It’s a beautiful tribute to an amazing neighborhood and Latin culture. It really is a love letter to New York City. It made me glad and grateful that New York City is my home.

And what I love most about the show is that it was one man’s dream to write a show about his neighborhood and his heritage. It doesn’t have any complicated plot lines, there’s nothing for the audience to “figure out”. It’s just a beautiful, simple story about life on a block in New York. You meet the colorful personalities, see some of their heartache, some of their joys, and all of their dreams. It’s as if for a minute I was back on that block, looking out from my apartment window and watching the comings and goings of average, everyday people. It made me think that maybe there is a story in all of us that is worth telling, and our only job is to tell is honestly, with heart. I’m grateful to Lin-Manuel Miranda for sharing his story with us.

books, friendship, movie, music, personality, relationships, theatre

Andre 3000

Christa Avampato

Have you heard of this guy Andre 3000? I haven’t. Outkast, yes. Andre 3000 – nope. Wouldn’t know him if I saw him. And I didn’t know his name in the midst of a group of people today at happy hour. For so long, I was used to being the youngest member of a group. That switch has flipped, clearly. I wish I could say that I’m not as hip as I used to be. Trouble is I was never hip. Ever.


The conversation then switched to movies. I had mentioned that I just saw Crash on DVD and loved it. For this I was slaughtered by nearly everyone in the group. They hated the movie – they thought it was narrow-minded and too precious. “No one talks like that or thinks like that.” “Could you make a more predictable movie?” Yikes. I was not in friendly waters.

So then we switched to books and someone said they were in the middle of A Thousand Splendid Suns, which I just finished. Finally – someone I can relate to! I said how much I enjoyed the book and also loved The Kite Runner (same author). Nope – I was the odd one out again. “That would never happen.” “What an unrealistic story.” “Too perfect an ending for my liking.” Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. And then they all left in a rush. I guess my taste in music, movies, and books cleared the room. 

Needlesstosay, I was happy to get away from those people and back to my cozy apartment among my books and music and movies that I love. (And incidentally, ones that many others love as well – Crash won 3 Oscars including one for best picture and both A Thousand Splendid Suns and The Kite Runner were best-sellers before they even went on sale to the public.) With that crowd, no wonder so many people didn’t come out for happy hour. They knew better given the company. Have any of these people read a newspaper, traveled outside of New York City, or even just learned to be polite? My guess is no. A resounding “no”. So while I felt bad about myself on the subway ride home, I was also reminded that we all have to howl if we want to find our pack. Clearly, that bunch is not my pack. I better spend my time elsewhere, and that is helpful information to have. 
career, fear, hope, theatre, work

My Year of Hopefulness – Stage Fright

Christa Avampato

Today, the theatre group joined, Temporary Shakespeare Company, had its first performance. We did a reading of Comedy of Errors for corporate employees at my company. All morning, I was reminded of how it felt to be on stage and why I didn’t pursue that avenue. I have horrible, horrible stage fright. Always. Without fail. 


Today, the stakes were even higher because I played a sorceress in front of people I work with, obviously in a very different capacity. Somehow, standing on that stage with all these other people taking the same risk made my stage fright dissipate. I didn’t shake, I didn’t feel sick to my stomach. We jumped off the cliff together. And the audience, our co-workers, caught us. 

And maybe that’s all it takes to make us let go of our fear, whether on stage or off: a group of people willing to let go of their fear, too.
art, creativity, theatre

My Year of Hopefulness – Shakespeare

Christa Avampato

Did you ever feel like somewhere along the line you lost a piece of yourself? A hobby, a part of your job, a relationship or friendship that you wish you hadn’t let just fade away? It happens in life, with all of our comings and goings, that things slip between our fingers into some abyss. The good thing about that abyss is that it’s not really that far away and we can easily fish out what we once loved and make it new again. 


Theatre is that candle for me that went out several years ago. I was in it, making it, and then my interest in it just faded away. I was disillusioned by certain practices and the politics and the commercialism of it all. I just cared about the art, and in that field getting the credit (and as much of it as possible) is crucial. Or so I thought….

I recently joined a brand new group at work called Temporary Shakespeare, a soon-to-be nonprofit, that offers free Shakespeare readings, and workshops to help corporate employees attain and maintain work / life balance. Our first show is Comedy of Errors and will be held January 14, 15, and 16. I’m excited about this new venture and what may come of it. At rehearsal today, I felt like I reclaimed a passion that I thought was so long gone, and it was actually just over my shoulder all along.   
Chicago, exercise, friendship, health, marathon, New York City, Real Simple, running, theatre, wellness

October 14, 2001

Christa Avampato

Several months ago, I submitted a story to Real Simple Magazine to answer the question, “Tell us about one of the most important days of your life in 1500 words or less.” I’m sure a lot of people wrote about their wedding day, or their kids bring born, a graduation. I wrote about the marathon I ran in in Chicago in 2001, a month after September 11th. I was on the eve of losing my job and was heart-broken that my city had been violated so terribly. I was angry, confused, and scared. For that month after the attack, I felt alone. The Chicago marathon changed some of those feelings for me, and as it turns out it was one of the most poignant moments of my life. Here’s the story:


“In the summer of 2001, I was in Toronto on the Broadway tour of The Full Monty. I was the first person hired full-time for the tour and we had grand plans. I had been working so much that I had neglected my workout schedule and decided a big goal would help me to recommit. In the Fall the tour would be traveling to Chicago, and the Chicago marathon would be in the middle of our run.

I was a cross-country runner in high school and always interested in running a marathon. Chicago was a perfect opportunity! I recruited my friend, Mark, the drummer on the show, to run with me. He wanted to get in better shape, too, and agreed to go the distance with me. I purchased a training book that laid out an ambitious but doable schedule for us and we were off.

Long runs, short runs, speed workouts, stretching, improved eating habits. Mark was with me every step of the way, everyday, with his cheery attitude and lovely British accent. There was no way I could have gotten through the experience without him. Training in Toronto was a magical time in my life because I felt like I was regaining my sense of self. It was easy to get lost in my work, and I needed to rediscover who I was and where my life was going. This training helped me do that.

Before Chicago, we had a brief hiatus and I returned to New York City for a few weeks. I did a few touristy things I had always wanted to do. On September 7th, I ventured to the World Trade Center and had a look around. I had never been to that neighborhood before. There wasn’t anything particularly remarkable about that afternoon. I remember that it was a long, beautiful walk along the Battery. I do remember looking out over the water and feeling lucky to be there. I looked forward to coming back to New York when the tour was over.

I left for Chicago on September 9th. Mark and I were getting into top physical shape, and were glad to be reunited to finish our training in Chicago. And then September 11th happened. My brother left me a message that morning, panicked that I was in New York. I figured he heard about some kind of crime in the city on the news. I dismissed his concern as nothing more than his overprotective nature and sense of exaggeration. I tried to call him back and his cell number was busy. Odd. I tried to call my mom. Busy. Was the entire AT&T network down?

I walked to work that morning, winding my way through the theatre district in Chicago. A beautiful day. I had never been to Chicago before and was entranced by it. This was going to be a great run for us. I stopped in at the Corner Bakery to get a coffee and a danish. Could life be any better? Then I got to work.

My boss was frantically searching on the internet, listening to NPR. The office phone was ringing off the hook.

“What’s going on?” I asked.

“Two planes flew into the World Trade Center.”

“By accident?” I asked.

“I don’t think so,” he replied.

And then everything was different.

My beautiful city, the very area I had been only days before, was in chaos. We worked all day, talking with our producers, easing the fears of our company members, and trying to calm our own fears. Finally, they closed the Loop in Chicago, and we were forced to leave the theatre.

I went to visit my friends and finally saw so many of the pictures that people had been watching all day. It was even more devastating than I had imagined. I went to bed that night thinking that our nation would never be the same, that all these years I had taken our safety for granted. I was right on both counts.

Within a month, our show announced its closing and we lost our jobs. The bottom fell out of the theatre industry. But before closing down, Mark and I ran the marathon. On Saturday, October 14th, we arrived at the starting line at 6am. We dropped off our valuables at check-in and got our numbers. We had trained hard in the final weeks – running was the only time of day I felt useful. Still, I was worried that we weren’t ready. Maybe we wouldn’t be able to finish. Maybe there was just no point to anything anymore.

We lined up, the gun went off, and slowly we wound our way through the neighborhoods of Chicago. The morning was sunny, the temperature perfect. A few miles in, I found that for the first time in a month, I noticed the sunshine, and felt warm. Mark and I stopped at every water and food station to keep our energy up.

What struck me the most about that race was the generosity of the crowd lining the entire route. I hadn’t expected that. They had orange slices and popcorn, cowbells and signs to cheer us on. That crowd made me believe in the goodness of the world, in our ability to reaffirm life. 

17 miles in, my knees began to ache terribly. “Come on, Love. We can do this,” Mark said. With that vote of confidence, he gave me a Tylenol. My knee pain was gone in minutes since my blood had been pumping strong for over two hours. Mentally, I was still feeling rattled. And then Mark did something that will make me love him forever. Mark asked me, “How did you start running?”

No one had ever asked me that before. Truth was, I started running to run away from my life. My dad was sick for most of my childhood and during my teen years, the situation in my home grew dire. I suffered from insomnia, and found that long-distance running would tire me out enough to sleep peacefully for a few hours. When I was racing, I knew my family was proud of me. I also thought if I could get good enough, I might be able to go to college on a partial scholarship. There was no money in my family to send me to college.

In my junior year of high school, I sustained a terrible injury that knocked me out for the season. I was devastated. I felt broken. I had a hard time walking for a number of months and began to run on my injured foot too soon, re-injuring it. A few months later, my father passed away after a long illness. While there was more peace in the house after his passing, it was an uncomfortable silence. That spring, I ran to forget, to hide. I didn’t care if I won any event. I just wanted to exhaust myself.

After that injury, I had the goal of someday running a marathon to pay tribute to my family for having lived through a difficult time. So this was it. This marathon was for my family. And if I could make it 26.2 miles, I’d believe that finally my body and my spirit were no longer broken.

Mark was quiet the whole time. I thought he might be bored with my droning. Turns out he was just a very good listener. “I’m sure that today your dad’s proud of you,” Mark said. And I believed him.

At the 26-mile mark, the finish line was in sight. There were banners flying high, and masses of people cheering. I felt like I was flying. At that point, Mark and I had to split because they timed men and women separately. We’d reunite at the end of the race. I smiled so wide crossing that finish line that I thought my face might crack. I lost all sense of exhaustion and burden. Mark and I made it – 26.2 miles in less than four and a half hours, step by step, together.

That day, I learned more about the world than any other day before or since. I developed a special fondness for Chicago – I felt that the crowd who came out that day breathed new life into me at a time when I felt very hollow and alone. That crowd helped me to refocus on the generosity and commitment of people to a community. Despite a dark set of circumstances facing all of us, we could rediscover happiness and enlightenment and move forward. I learned that true friendship carries us in the most trying times. I’m forever indebted to Mark for his positive attitude and belief in me. Almost 10 years after my dad’s passing, I lived up to the promise to honor my family. I raced toward sunshine, and found it. And I have been alight ever since. “

The photo above can be found at: http://riseupomenofgod.files.wordpress.com/2007/05/running-man.jpg