It has always fascinated me that true puppeteers have often been the strangest people that I have ever met, seemingly caught in two worlds. They don't seek attention the way that other performers do, and seem almost to prefer the worlds of their own creation. This blog, I hope, will discuss issues concerning puppetry and puppeteers; not primarily an update of the happenings in the puppetry world (although those, too, will be included, but are more than amply addressed in wonderful blogs like Puppeteers Unite!, Puppet Buzz, Puppet Vision Blog and Puppet Muse).
To begin, I think that it would be appropriate to tell you how I began my interest in puppetry: I'm not entirely sure. I am not one of those people who grew up around puppets, per se, or had a natural affinity for them. I tended to be a cautious child, and I cannot imagine that creating funny voices would have been something that I would have explored.
This is what I do know: I was encouraged by my mother to anthropomorphize everything. I had a favorite doll, Nini, and I can distinctly remember my mother telling me that it was vital that I take her on trips so that she wouldn't be sad that I had left her behind. I had an imaginary friend, Ferla (who I am sure on some level I understood to be imaginary), and Mom would send me birthday and Christmas presents from her. And there was this horrid story in an old children's book series, The How and Why Program, called "Poor Lizbeth Jane!" by Anne Gage, about a girl who gets a new toy each Christmas and forgets about her old ones. The discarded toys, of course, come to life when the humans are not around, and Lizbeth Jane (the rag doll) and her friend Toby (the cloth dog) decide to run away. Eventually, they are found in the snow, and the little girl remembers to love all of her toys, not just the new ones. (For those interested in the similarities to other tales, the copyright on that one is 1950.)
I can also remember attending puppet shows as a very young person, most often at the Glen Echo Park in Bethesda, Maryland. Now the home of one of the best puppet theatres in the country, when I was a child the park was a creepy ghost town with an historic, though dilapidated carousel, and an abandoned puppet workshop. The children's theatre was active, though, and we went often to see the featured puppets. Also, as a Greek child, I saw karagiozis shows, and, as a teenager, a good friend's parents were, at that time, professional puppeteers.
I studied theatre and vocal performance in college, and was peripherally exposed to puppets. And then the strangest thing happened...One day, a friend was sad, uninterested in really talking, I instinctively picked up a stuffed creature, created a character, and began puppeteering. That was it. And here we are.
I am now a professional puppeteer. I am also a woman. I live in a city where I am one of only a handful of puppeteers, and the surrounding area doesn't really increase that number by many. All of which conspire to make me somewhat isolated. So, here I am, sincerely....
To begin, I think that it would be appropriate to tell you how I began my interest in puppetry: I'm not entirely sure. I am not one of those people who grew up around puppets, per se, or had a natural affinity for them. I tended to be a cautious child, and I cannot imagine that creating funny voices would have been something that I would have explored.
This is what I do know: I was encouraged by my mother to anthropomorphize everything. I had a favorite doll, Nini, and I can distinctly remember my mother telling me that it was vital that I take her on trips so that she wouldn't be sad that I had left her behind. I had an imaginary friend, Ferla (who I am sure on some level I understood to be imaginary), and Mom would send me birthday and Christmas presents from her. And there was this horrid story in an old children's book series, The How and Why Program, called "Poor Lizbeth Jane!" by Anne Gage, about a girl who gets a new toy each Christmas and forgets about her old ones. The discarded toys, of course, come to life when the humans are not around, and Lizbeth Jane (the rag doll) and her friend Toby (the cloth dog) decide to run away. Eventually, they are found in the snow, and the little girl remembers to love all of her toys, not just the new ones. (For those interested in the similarities to other tales, the copyright on that one is 1950.)
I can also remember attending puppet shows as a very young person, most often at the Glen Echo Park in Bethesda, Maryland. Now the home of one of the best puppet theatres in the country, when I was a child the park was a creepy ghost town with an historic, though dilapidated carousel, and an abandoned puppet workshop. The children's theatre was active, though, and we went often to see the featured puppets. Also, as a Greek child, I saw karagiozis shows, and, as a teenager, a good friend's parents were, at that time, professional puppeteers.
I studied theatre and vocal performance in college, and was peripherally exposed to puppets. And then the strangest thing happened...One day, a friend was sad, uninterested in really talking, I instinctively picked up a stuffed creature, created a character, and began puppeteering. That was it. And here we are.
I am now a professional puppeteer. I am also a woman. I live in a city where I am one of only a handful of puppeteers, and the surrounding area doesn't really increase that number by many. All of which conspire to make me somewhat isolated. So, here I am, sincerely....
