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Hailing from the intersection between three different suburbs of Houston, Texas, my life is a series of crossroads. The street I grew up on is the zip code border separating “Houston Proper” from Cypress, and Spring, technically Tomball does not start for a good couple miles up the highway that did not exist when my parents moved out to the suburbs for a quieter environment to raise kids, yet the schools that taught me are a dichotomy. Amongst the locals of the Greater North Houston area, Tomball is the home of backwoods conservative Southern hick farmers, however, I had the fortune to attend the newer, nicer, more sophisticated high school that nobody realizes exists, lest you attend another local school that competed against us in football. I am Jewish, I was raised Jewish, but only one of my parents actually is of the faith, and according to many, it was the wrong one- as if I had a choice in whom I was born to. The only family I know lives halfway across the world, in one of the most controversial countries on the planet. They speak three and a half languages, the half being English; the only one I know beyond the basic Hebrew I fought tooth and nail to learn for my Bar Mitzvah. My religion is deeply important to me, has shaped who I am both intentionally, and subconsciously, and is something I constantly seek out on my own. The great compromise of my upbringing was that, naturally, I would be exposed to Christianity by virtue of my geographic location at the bottom of the Bible Belt, though my mother has never been religious herself. Alternatively, my father, who naively went to seek out the American Dream in his youth, who left Israel and his family behind for the freedom that called his name from the states, would celebrate and observe as much Judaism as he felt like, and whatever me and my sisters decided to do was our own choice, unless of course we picked the wrong choice of abandoning faith altogether. I found myself neck deep in theatre after following my sister’s footsteps, which eventually led me here to the 40 acres as well. The quicksand has yet to loosen its grip on me, and now I find myself creating art in many multitudes. To put a label on it, I am a costume designer- or I will be one day… I have to pick a label; there is only so much a single person can squeeze into a lifetime, much less a day. But I am so much more than any one thing. I am all the different contradictions that make me human, and I am all the subtly different things that come together to shift one dimension into two, and then into three. To quote Bob Dylan, I contain multitudes.

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What do I look at that electrifies me, makes me want to get up and just create? Human life experiences that are visceral and raw and make me think. This isn’t what I do, but what I consume. The entire structure of this class, witnessing those around me pulling from the intrinsic details of their own personal identity, without fear or worry of judgment. This inspires me to create more, and eliminate my own insecurities while making. My mind jumps to another member of my cohort, making a comment in our devising workshop in which he embodied a “Venezuelan housewife”, to which I asked him to elaborate on that choice. He explained to me that he was Venezuelan, and jokingly felt that he would make a good housewife. This pride in his own background was very respectable to me. I am inspired to put more of myself into everything I do, which forces me to reflect on myself, and figure out what exactly makes me, me. This requires me to be thoughtful and introspective with my actions, and to ensure that everything I take ownership of is made with intention, that I feel deserving of attaching my name to. I want to shy away from the cliches of tortured, starving artists, that must suffer physically, emotionally, or inflict suffering on those around them to create the best work they can make. Inspiration should come from within, not be a result of exterior factors, which is why even as a child I struggled with picking who my “hero” was, because I want to be myself, and be known for being myself, without emulating others. Of course, like a snowball rolling down a hillside, we all pick up traits from those around us, but there should be a fidelity to this process. While some say imitation is the sincerest form of flattery, I believe there is nothing sincere about pretending to be someone or something you are not.

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APRIL NINETEENTH TWO THOUSAND AND TWENTY

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THE INTRICACIES OF LIFE AND UNDERSTANDING MY OWN THOUGHT

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THE INTRICACIES OF LIFE AND UNDERSTANDING MY OWN THOUGHT

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amidst what felt like such an uncertain and deeply terrifying time in global history, and in my life, I woke up in the middle of the night and could not return to rest until I had satisfied the needs of my subconscious by creating this piece, as if possessed in my motions of mixing paint, brush strokes dancing across the canvas, not controlled by my own arm, but some mysteries force that decided in that moment that my art would never again be restricted by some self imposed need for literal adaptation, or realistic representation. I would create the art that was in my mind, in my soul, fighting to find the path of least resistance out of me, and into the permanent.

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Culture is the manifestation of human collectiveness. Culture is a shared experience, and this light in my life focused itself into pretty much every project throughout all the workshops in this class. The cultural differences between me and my partners in design are what brought us together, drawing on the awe and wonder of how such uniquely different people could find themselves with their heads and hearts together in the same place, both physically in Austin, Texas, when our families hailed from all different corners of the world. Philosophically, we found differences, not only in the cultures of our heritage, but of our upbringings, and yet still, here we all were, united through the commonality of the theatre, and more ambiguously as Artists. I choose to capitalize Artist to identify myself, not because it is a proper noun, but as a sign of respect for those who came before me. While I maintain my familial culture, and carry it forward into the future, naturally, I choose to associate with the culture of the arts, and Artists I respect. Though the capitalization of a single word is a small gesture, I use it as an indicator of this influence. I chose these three specific categories because I believe they blend together almost seamlessly, which, in a collaborative process, should be the final result. Culture, and the way it finds itself into my work can be viewed as an acknowledgement of the influence both of my nature, and my nurture. How have my values and priorities been shaped by the people who raised me, the environment in which I was raised, and the people I choose to surround myself with. I believe self reflection in this regard is important, to essentially filter out the influences that I know longer associate with, critique my past self, and grow into a better person, thus progressing the work I create.

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Texas Hillel's Annual Israeli Block Party

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Texas Hillel's Annual Israeli Block Party

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despite having no ties to Israel, my friend Austin came with my to check out the IBP last month, because why not. I really enjoyed this experience because in helped me connect both with other Israeli-Americans here on campus, and provided me a level of comfort since I have not been able to visit my family in Israel since the start of the pandemic. Furthermore, I am wearing the t-shirt I got over spring break from seeing my favorite artist, Bob Dylan, also here at Bass Concert Hall, who, also is Jewish, like me (also, my Star of David necklace noticeable over my shirt collar).

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I value my families and the memories associated with them. I say families, plural, because I do not want to limit my reference to explicitly blood relatives, or feel a gap missing by virtue of distance between me and other members. Through these relationships there is a symbiosis of values, perspectives and understandings that I would not be able to experience in isolation. Through my biological family I channel my Jewish upbringing, and aspire to create as much Jewish art as possible. Through the found family of my friends, I evoked the relationships that lasted, and those that did not, while playwriting. I cherish memories of my upbringing, but that does not mean those memories are all good. I found catharsis in looking back on those not so good memories, and finding the good in those times that I could only appreciate with hindsight. I would not go back in time and un-experience the moments that have shaped me, and the lessons I have learned from them. Channeling these emotions into what I create is a further extension of sharing part of myself with those I care about, while also evaluating the things that have been shared with me. Leaving Austin for the summer filled me with the same sort of hollowness I felt when leaving home nine months ago. I have grown a new Longhorn family, and appreciate the wondrous exposure to different perspectives and experiences these people have endowed me with. These people have left an imprint on me, even the ones I just met or grew close with this semester, and though I do not want to speak for them in any instance where their own voices are more empowering, I am extremely interested in channeling the vulnerabilities both on my end and theirs into future works of mine.

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an inexhaustive collection of some of my favorite memories with some of my favorite people from the past year