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Me, more or less
A bio is a difficult thing, as it pretends to tell how a person is, from that person’s point of view. Remove the point of view, and you have a whole other story. If someone else were to tell the story, it might be more accurate…but less complete. I have often wondered if I know what I am like at all, if any of us do, and perhaps we need others, friends, family, audiences, to tell us who we are.
I was born a cranky, cynical, fatalistic soul, and lived through a childhood that seems, in retrospect, financially precarious but otherwise idyllic. At the time, though, I felt stifled, misunderstood, and impatient with the petty shortsightedness of the children- and adults!- around me. This made me a great deal less popular with everyone than I would have liked.
I meant the things I said, said exactly what I thought, and gave voice to those thoughts almost before they were fully formed. This gave those around me instant access to whatever was on my mind, which was generally unconventional, uncomfortable, uncomplimentary, or some weird combination.
I was romantic, literary, dynamic, solitary, dramatic and intense. Possibly I still am, but let me continue undistracted. I stumbled through elementary school and junior high walking the hairy edge between “kinda wacky” and “a total freak, don’t go near her.” Some of you may know what I mean. I loved theater, but didn’t (don’t?) audition well, so I always got to play the part of stage crew. Which I loved, actually. And ceased to see myself in a spotlit role. Until high school, when one of the members of the mime troupe was out sick on a day they were supposed to perform.
I hardly remember that day. My mother, substitute teaching science downstairs, signed a permission slip. The other troupe members coached me on makeup and lent me a black sweatshirt. I had a wonderful time being expressive without language. I had no time to acquire illusion techniques, no notion that I ought to. What I was doing, I suppose, (again, retrospect) was silent clowning. But I, and humanity at large, evidently, has trouble separating mime from silent clowning, so I accepted the moniker of mime without protest. I was asked, along with a regular member of the mime troupe, Kathy Hall, to perform at a large school event, the Miss Andover contest, part beauty contest, part popularity contest, part good student award. Red haired, freckle-faced Sue Grevinski won. She was escorted by James Best, a beautiful black boy who had won the Mr. Andover contest, which was purely a popular vote thing. Among others, she beat out her own sister Anne, in the same grade, ten months older, a bit prettier, somewhat more popular, but not so civic minded as Sue. I was not nominated as a Miss Andover contestant.
Kathy and I performed as part of the entertainment that occurred during the judging interval, before the award ceremony. Two years later, my sister had the honor to perform during the Miss Andover intermission, playing a flute duet with another student. She was also not nominated as a potential Miss Andover, though her best girlfriend Buffy won the title.
I digress. After the performance, which was very well received, Kathy and I were asked to work the opening of a playground at a local McDonalds. Our payment for the eight hour day was ten dollars apiece and a hamburger (plus fries and soda), and I count that as the start of my professional career.
Many days, I don’t feel as though I’ve made much progress.
I was still a cranky and cynical soul a couple of years later, when I auditioned to perform for the Maryland Renaissance Festival. It was a less structured thing then than it is now, the Festival, and had I been required to audition under its current standards, I’m not sure I would have made the cut. But in 1985 (or 86, I can’t remember) I did make the cut, and worked the silent clown/mime persona year after year until there are current cast members who have fond memories or treasured photographs of themselves as small children with Mimi.
Mimi started out as a Harpo-type character, a bit of a prankster, irreverent, apolitical, non-sexual. This did not get reinforced. Evidently, the physical package that represents me suggests cute and adorable. Mimi had no problem adapting to that. She’s nicer than I am, more flexible, and more than anything, wants to amuse, entertain, and make people’s day a little better.
I could give a shit.
I take that back. Over the years, Mimi has rubbed off on me enough that I do give a shit, and do want to improve everyone’s day. But back to Mimi. When we started working the cute and adorable angle, we discovered that people love to look at Mimi, and take pictures of her. So over the years, I have worked hard to make Mimi a beautiful visual. I have acquired a few skills along the way, but many more costume pieces, props and accessories to enhance the visual experience. I may be a performance artist, but Mimi, ah, Mimi is visual art.
And now we come to the bit where I tell who I am instead of who I was. The difficult bit, the one I can’t manage. So instead, I will say what I am doing, and let you all draw your own conclusions.
I started to get enough gigs and had a stable enough marriage that I could give up the dayjob thing, and be part time performer, part time theater teacher, part time writer/director, and full time mother. I do murder mystery theater, teach little kids to project and cheat and what an archetype is. I write poetry and plays, one of which won an award. My son performs with Mimi as “Max”, walks stilts with me, and wrote himself into my fireating show. I perform school days at the Pennsylvania Renaissance Festival. Sometimes I'm Betsy Ross or the Snow Queen, or an eight foot elf. I have begun to volunteer with a writers group, a playwright’s festival and a movement artists thing that some of you may know. I figure that someday all the puzzle pieces will fall together and I’ll know who I am. Until then, stand back, squint at the pieces, turn your head a little, and make of me what you will.
-Cybele
I was born a cranky, cynical, fatalistic soul, and lived through a childhood that seems, in retrospect, financially precarious but otherwise idyllic. At the time, though, I felt stifled, misunderstood, and impatient with the petty shortsightedness of the children- and adults!- around me. This made me a great deal less popular with everyone than I would have liked.
I meant the things I said, said exactly what I thought, and gave voice to those thoughts almost before they were fully formed. This gave those around me instant access to whatever was on my mind, which was generally unconventional, uncomfortable, uncomplimentary, or some weird combination.
I was romantic, literary, dynamic, solitary, dramatic and intense. Possibly I still am, but let me continue undistracted. I stumbled through elementary school and junior high walking the hairy edge between “kinda wacky” and “a total freak, don’t go near her.” Some of you may know what I mean. I loved theater, but didn’t (don’t?) audition well, so I always got to play the part of stage crew. Which I loved, actually. And ceased to see myself in a spotlit role. Until high school, when one of the members of the mime troupe was out sick on a day they were supposed to perform.
I hardly remember that day. My mother, substitute teaching science downstairs, signed a permission slip. The other troupe members coached me on makeup and lent me a black sweatshirt. I had a wonderful time being expressive without language. I had no time to acquire illusion techniques, no notion that I ought to. What I was doing, I suppose, (again, retrospect) was silent clowning. But I, and humanity at large, evidently, has trouble separating mime from silent clowning, so I accepted the moniker of mime without protest. I was asked, along with a regular member of the mime troupe, Kathy Hall, to perform at a large school event, the Miss Andover contest, part beauty contest, part popularity contest, part good student award. Red haired, freckle-faced Sue Grevinski won. She was escorted by James Best, a beautiful black boy who had won the Mr. Andover contest, which was purely a popular vote thing. Among others, she beat out her own sister Anne, in the same grade, ten months older, a bit prettier, somewhat more popular, but not so civic minded as Sue. I was not nominated as a Miss Andover contestant.
Kathy and I performed as part of the entertainment that occurred during the judging interval, before the award ceremony. Two years later, my sister had the honor to perform during the Miss Andover intermission, playing a flute duet with another student. She was also not nominated as a potential Miss Andover, though her best girlfriend Buffy won the title.
I digress. After the performance, which was very well received, Kathy and I were asked to work the opening of a playground at a local McDonalds. Our payment for the eight hour day was ten dollars apiece and a hamburger (plus fries and soda), and I count that as the start of my professional career.
Many days, I don’t feel as though I’ve made much progress.
I was still a cranky and cynical soul a couple of years later, when I auditioned to perform for the Maryland Renaissance Festival. It was a less structured thing then than it is now, the Festival, and had I been required to audition under its current standards, I’m not sure I would have made the cut. But in 1985 (or 86, I can’t remember) I did make the cut, and worked the silent clown/mime persona year after year until there are current cast members who have fond memories or treasured photographs of themselves as small children with Mimi.
Mimi started out as a Harpo-type character, a bit of a prankster, irreverent, apolitical, non-sexual. This did not get reinforced. Evidently, the physical package that represents me suggests cute and adorable. Mimi had no problem adapting to that. She’s nicer than I am, more flexible, and more than anything, wants to amuse, entertain, and make people’s day a little better.
I could give a shit.
I take that back. Over the years, Mimi has rubbed off on me enough that I do give a shit, and do want to improve everyone’s day. But back to Mimi. When we started working the cute and adorable angle, we discovered that people love to look at Mimi, and take pictures of her. So over the years, I have worked hard to make Mimi a beautiful visual. I have acquired a few skills along the way, but many more costume pieces, props and accessories to enhance the visual experience. I may be a performance artist, but Mimi, ah, Mimi is visual art.
And now we come to the bit where I tell who I am instead of who I was. The difficult bit, the one I can’t manage. So instead, I will say what I am doing, and let you all draw your own conclusions.
I started to get enough gigs and had a stable enough marriage that I could give up the dayjob thing, and be part time performer, part time theater teacher, part time writer/director, and full time mother. I do murder mystery theater, teach little kids to project and cheat and what an archetype is. I write poetry and plays, one of which won an award. My son performs with Mimi as “Max”, walks stilts with me, and wrote himself into my fireating show. I perform school days at the Pennsylvania Renaissance Festival. Sometimes I'm Betsy Ross or the Snow Queen, or an eight foot elf. I have begun to volunteer with a writers group, a playwright’s festival and a movement artists thing that some of you may know. I figure that someday all the puzzle pieces will fall together and I’ll know who I am. Until then, stand back, squint at the pieces, turn your head a little, and make of me what you will.
-Cybele