A Glimpse of How I Work (Sketch Book Excerpts)

A brief glimpse of what my process looks like. A few pages from my notebooks, these are focusing a bit more on my efforts to capture the human form.

Secondary Sketches- Trying to capture the human form in a matter of seconds.

When I have grown bored with sketching.

And occasionally, no sketch book is handy, so I play with the material at hand.

Small Soldiers

One of my hobbies is model building, and studying history, especially military history. I scratch built and kit bashed this micro-diorama a few years ago. It depicts a basic ship's gun on a tall ship, circa the War of 1812. Scratch building is always an interesting challenge, as it combines modeling, sculpture, and historical research to create a representational model. Kit bashing, on the other hand, it taking apart what is a commercially created model in order to use the parts to create something different. It takes patience, but I actually find it rather relaxing. It offers a respite from having to worry about being commercial, or even trying to be extremely deep.

When I create sculpture, I am constantly thinking about form, materials, how it all goes together, and how I want it to represent my concepts and ideas, and how they are communicated. When I model, it is essentially brain candy. I know historians will disagree with me, but history is history, and fact is fact. Maneuvers may be debated, motivations questioned, and decisions and their reasoning may be pondered over, but those are all human concerns. The nice thing about materials research, is that when a soldier's uniform is blue, that is just that. It is difficult to argue a point when the object you are studying is at hand. When I create models, I try to recreate a representation of the past, and the thinking is more about materials and the final aesthetics. What I am trying to represent is just that, I am making a recreation of an existing object. There is not necessarily a deeper meaning.

Until next time,

Andrew

My Actual Work

Continuing with the basic idea that this blog is also my portfolio, I figured that now would be a good a time as any to actually show some of my artwork. I actually enjoy creating smaller pieces, as I think it allows for a greater dissemination of art, after all, not many people have the space for a monumental sculpture. I also like the idea of the works themselves being contained, forcing the viewer to break through and examine the piece for what it actually means, as opposed to merely having a concept thrust upon them.

"The Danger of Innocence" 2010, Mixed Media Assemblage

"Paris is Burning" 2010, Mixed Media Assemblage

Until next time,

Andrew

A Defense of The Kilt

Recently, I have heard a comment regarding my wardrobe lately that has rather rankled me. It seems that my manliness has been called into question based off of my decision to wear a kilt, or as it was disparagingly referred to as a "man-skirt." I have therefore decided to pen a defense of a garment that needs no defense in my opinion, and clothed in the garment of discussion, I sat down to write on what I consider one of the manliest pieces of clothing in existence.

The reason this garment is considered a paragon of toughness is predominately due to the long history and the traditional purpose of the kilt. The original design of the kilt was that it was intended from the very beginning as a travelling garment. As Highlanders were a tribal people, the garment was designed to be worn on the move. Therefore, the Kilt served several purposes, as a garment, as a shelter, and as an identifying badge.

The garment aspect of the kilt should be rather self explanatory. It serves incredibly well as a lower body garment. From first hand experience, I have worn my kilt on both the hottest and coldest days of the year, and it was comfortable on both days, as it is cool in summer, and warm in winter.

The shelter aspect of the garment deals predominately with the construction of a full kilt. Originally, a kilt was little more than a belted piece of wool, approximately a yard and a half by four yards. The idea behind this was that as a tribal people, you would have to carry everything with you as you moved place to place. As a result of this, the more you would carry, the less territory you would be able to cover. The kilt helped to provide an answer to this, as after a long day marching or travelling, the individual could just remove his kilt, shake out the pleats, wrap himself in the garment and go to sleep. This saved him the need of carrying his own bedding, and as any backpacker (or someone who had to carry a suitcase from the East Village to the Upper West Side) can tell you, every pound counts when you have to journey long distances.

The badge aspect, however, might be one of the most important aspects of the kilt. In a tribal society, being able to identify your own people can literally make the difference between life and death. This is where the very material of the kilt came into play. The kilt is not made with any ordinary wool, but a specially pattered one called the Tartan. Each individual clan had their own pattern, and that would be the only pattern they would wear. The traveller of clansman with a well trained eye would therefore be able to tell instantly if another man was a friend or foe.

These are all manly aspects of the garment, but what truly adds to the masculinity is the people who designed it. The standard equipment of a Highlander says much about the warlike aspects of the people. In the heyday of the kilt (16Th-18Th centuries) a knife or dagger would be something no man would leave the house without. Indeed, most men still carry a pocket knife as part of their daily gear. What separates the Highlander from other men is the choice of knives. While most daggers from the time period were approximately 5 to 7 inches long, the typical Highlander would be carrying his dirk, with a length of 9 to 14 inches. Two inches in a blade during combat can make the difference between a wounded enemy and a dead one. In battle, the dead enemy is preferable as he cannot stab you back.

In addition to the dirk, the well dressed Highlander would also be carrying a sgian dubh, or "black knife," tucked into his right sock. This was a small knife, about 3 to 4 inches in length, but its placement allowed it to be easily reached at all times, including if things became rather heated at the dinner table. In addition to those weapons as part of their daily gear, it was known that some Highlanders would also strap one more additional blade to their thigh, underneath the kilt.

The British were so afraid of the Highlanders that following the end of the Jacobite Rebellion in 1746, the kilt was outlawed along with the bagpipes as weapons of war, alongside swords, shields, and muskets. The kilt is therefore the garment of choice for some of the toughest men in history.

Finally, I know from my own experience the feeling you have when you wear the kilt. When you are kilted, you have a connection to the past, and in most cases, your family history. And it gives you a sense of power, as in modern society, when men get manicures and trade tips on exfoliating, the kilt in a giant "FUCK YOU" thrown directly in the face of conformity. It serves as a badge once again, except this time in reverse, as a proclamation in your rights as an individual, declaring that you aren't going to go quietly with the rest of the herd. What could be more masculine than that?

Until next time,
Andrew

In search of Americana (Pt.1)

It's been an interesting few weeks. I recently went on a short road trip, for my own personal reasons, which I will not discuss here. It's rather interesting that the more I take these trips, the longer it seems to process what the journeys actually mean. In this case, I was disturbed to find out just how far commercialism is an essential part of the American dream.

Heading west, I went through the Eastern part of the Midwest, also known as the back roads of Ohio. The interesting thing about the back roads is the sense of navigation that occurs. It takes forever to actually get anywhere. Basically, you travel a good five or six hours at a steady clip, only to find my to your surprise and a little bit of your chagrin, you find you have travelled about 600 miles less than you were expecting. As a result, at the end of Day 1, I found myself in the Middle of Nowhere, Ohio.

Now, the thing about this, I was much surprised to find how...utterly commercial the Amish country has become. It surprised me greatly how much that upset me, and it took me a while to figure out why.

Commercialism is more or less destroying the regionalism of America. This is even more unfortunate considering how the "melting pot" culture which founded the country, is now becoming homogenized through the Interstate, and through rampant commercialism.

When you travel through the open country at 80 miles an hour, everything kind of looks the same. Regionalism is slowly dying, and there isn't much that can be done. We just need to savor what little flavor is left.

From Mansfield, Ohio, I next journeyed to Louisville, Kentucky. After having been shocked at the commercial Amish, I then decided to embrace the idea of the search for American symbols, and what could be more American that Mom, Apple Pie, and of course, Baseball.

Louisville is of course home of the Louisville Slugger, the baseball bat of the MLB. Standing outside, with the world's largest baseball bat, I then plotted a journey that would lead to the heart of several American Icons, including, aside from the Slugger, Jim Beam, Maker's Mark, Jack Daniels, and the Civil War. This sojourn would take me through a large chunk of the South.

Moving South through Kentucky, we hooked into the Bourbon Trail, which led right to front doors of the Jim Beam and Maker's Mark distilleries, manufacturers of fine Bourbons.

And I must say, the tours, while interesting, kind of pale in comparison to the highlights, the tastings. After trying several (read as too many) bourbons, I think my favorite has to be Maker's Mark 46, and extra smoky bourbon made by adding extra burned barrel staves to the aging barrels. I recommend it straight, on the rocks. Of course, that was only half the journey.

Until next time,
Andrew

Doc Huntley's Medicine Show

King of Diamonds: The Pitch

King of Clubs:The Escape

King of Spades: The Danger

King of Hearts: The Magic
Photography by Matt Blakeburn.

May You Find What You Seek.

So, having told that story, I can move forward to the latest to tell the real story. My friends and a few others close to me know that my life has been rather...turbulent lately. (When the nickname you receive from a group of strangers is Rouge Wave, perhaps turbulent is an understatement.) Anyway, the two journeys have been, in the grand (or foolish) romantic tradition, over a woman.

Originally, she was supposed to be leaving for Philadelphia, which was one of the main reasons that I signed on to do The Elephant Man, enabling me to visit. Well, that didn't happen, and in my infinite wisdom, (sarcastically so) I fell for her hard. She loves someone else though, and she wants to be friends. That was and to some extent is still really hard for me, and I wasn't sure if it was going to be even possible for me to handle. So, more or less on a whim, I headed to New York to do a job, and seek some perspective.

I found what I was looking for in the middle of a park, about 174th street. As I was sitting there, trying to figure things out, a little old woman, about half of my size sat down next to me. Wanting to be friendly, as I truly don't know many people in the city, I said hello, and we began talking.

She asked me why I was there, and I suppose she could sense my hesitation, as she told me in her heavily accented English.

"Don't worry. It's almost anonymous here, I just met you, you just met me, we can talk about anything, and then we both go our separate ways. Tell me what is bothering you, and I can tell you what I would do," she added with a twinkle in her eye. "I have a lot of life experience."

Not having a thing to lose, I told her exactly why, that I was looking to get a sense of perspective from being away from the woman I was in love with. I told her that she loved someone else, and I was being left out in the cold.

She listen to me thoughtfully, and after a long pause said "I see. Were you married to her?"

"No." I replied.

"Did you have children with her?"

"No..." I responded again, slightly puzzled.

"Lived with her?"

"I never had the chance" I rejoined, thoroughly confused.

She then floored me with her response. "Then move on. You are a young man, your wings aren't broken. If you were smaller I would put you over my knee right now. This is nothing, it is a bee sting. You have your whole life ahead of you. Yes, you love her. But move on."

After that, we sat in thoughtful silence, and shared an apple. She then shared her story, which was fascinating in it's own right. Growing up under Communism behind the Iron Curtain, traveling broke through Italy, and having her name changed at Ellis Island, the woman has seen most of the twentieth century. Then she added something which added a lot of perspective for me.

"I'm at the end of my journey now. When elephants go to die, they go to the elephant graveyard where all of the other elephants died, to die among the bones of their ancestors. I have to make that choice now. Do I want to go back to Croatia, and die there, where I grew up or do I want to stay here, and found a new graveyard for my ancestors?"

At this point, my phone, which had been mercifully silent the entire time, suddenly rang, startling us both. I was being summoned to deal with yet another problem on set. She saw the concern on my face as I took the call. I hung up, and before I could say anything, she affectionately dismissed me to go work:

"You are at the beginning of your journey. Be careful, and know that now I will be missing you. Good luck on the next part of the trip, and remember to move on."

With that, I thanked her, and left, with simultaneously a lot on my mind, and without a lot of weight, as I realized that I had somehow miraculously managed to find what I had sought, and that the perspective I was looking for came from the last place that I was looking. I guess when answers are needed, you just need to ask.

Until next time,

Andrew

In Medias Res

So, here it is. I currently find myself inside of a large metal box, hurtling through time and space towards an unknown future. That is a ridiculously overly poetic way of saying that I'm currently on a bus on the way home back to Pittsburgh after a somewhat less than successful journey from New York City.

Now, I know several people are inquiring at this point as to when I even left. The answer to that, and to why, is rather complicated, so I'm going to go in media res for a moment, and flash back to an earlier journey that wasn't discussed, travelling to Philadelphia while on The Elephant Man. The reasoning, or at least my thought process, between the two journeys is connected, hence the need to go back to the beginning.

After finishing up a rather successful set of previews for the show, we hurriedly packed up and left for Philadelphia. Arriving rather late, we all turned in at the hostel, and prepared to really get into the work the next day.

Dinner that night was absolutely delightful, as we had decided to pool resources and try to cook, as opposed to spending a significant amount of the budget attempting to dine out. Seeing what was around, we decided to go for Italian that night (I know, it's me cooking, therefore Italian cuisine is likely.) After writing a quick list of ingredients, we set out shopping only to discover that a frost had made eggplant rather scarce. Now, Eggplant Parmesan is rather difficult to make without eggplant, but there were some very good looking baby zucchini in the case. Desperation is the mother of invention, and we decided to go that direction instead.

The cooking process is incredibly simple, a quick saute of the split zucchini, a fast boil of the pasta, and a quick doctoring of the sauce (a little wine goes a long way), we had a delightful meal in very good company.

Following dinner, we were joined by another cast member, who brought along two friends, Ian and Tim. We relaxed the evening away, plenty of good wine and conversation, the two fueling each other, and finally called it a night in the wee hours of the morning.

The next day was rather rough, as the day before a show is liable to be. It was even more stressful, as performing in a museum puts even more restrictions. Tempers (especially my own) were beginning to flare a bit when mercifully, break came around and we found ourselves with several hours free.

After being in the same room with the same people for close to 72 hours, I decided to head off on my own and check out the Franklin Institute. Walking across the park to it, however, I was surprised to hear my voice being called. I turned around as was surprised to see Tim and Ian standing there. After inquiring if I had plans, of which I really didn't, we decided to go on a walk to seek out Tony DiNic's, in the Reading Terminal market.

Now, Reading Terminal is kind of a foodie Valhalla. It's almost impossible not to find something delicious, but we were on a mission to seek out the sandwich as it was seen on Man Vs. Food. And find it we did.

This delicious monstrosity of a sandwich contains almost a pound of pulled pork, but it is the way in which it is made makes it something else, possibly in the category of manna. It's by far one of the best sandwiches I've ever had. The meat is prepared by braising overnight in it's own juices, then it it pulled, placed back into the juice, and then braised again overnight. This produces some of the juiciest pork I've ever tasted. Now, this is an even more impressive feat, considering that pork is one of the easiest meats in the world to dry out.

The other ingredients of the sandwich also help complete the flavor profile to be something sublime. First, a layer of provolone adds a sharpness as well as structural integrity (something very important in sandwich engineering) when it melts, juice proofing the bun. The greens are truly what put the sandwich up over the top though. A topping of broccoli rabe adds spiciness and a garlic undertone, which make up the symphony of flavor that is that sandwich. In case you can't tell, my mouth is practically watering at just remembering and writing this description. If you are in Philadelphia, skip the cheesesteak and go for this instead.

After stuffing ourselves on pork, we decided to go touristy and check out the Liberty Bell, Independence Hall, and Elphreth's Alley, one of the oldest continuously inhabited blocks in the United States. We had a fascinating discussion on history, as Tim and Ian, both English natives, were curious why Americans celebrated something that was only a little over two hundred and fifty years old, I then explained that it was because in a country only about that old, we have to find our "founding myths" where we can. I also pointed out they had encapsulated the European idea of America in one fell swoop that day, giant sandwiches and the Liberty Bell, or in a metaphorical sense, conspicuous consumption and blind patriotism.

We then adjourned our little adventure to watch and perform in the play, and following another night of carousing, settled in our beds, ready to move on to the next journey.

Until next time,
Andrew

Life and Risk

It's not like I haven't wanted to write lately, on the contrary, I've been wanting to. It's just that my mind has been on the move so much in the past week, I haven't had the mental capacity to put pen to paper (or fingers to keyboard, as it were.) But now things have calmed slightly (ever so slightly) and as a result I am more than comfortable to spend this Friday night relaxing at home with a good movie (Muppet Treasure Island, I said I'm an adult, I never said I was all the time.)

A good place to begin would be last Saturday, after waking up early to make sure I made it to the audition in Shadyside, I headed out for the day. After a decent audition (I didn't get cast, by the way, but I honestly wasn't expecting it) I realized it was a beautiful day, and wandered down to Oakland. Following a quick stop at an antique book store (books being right alongside food and women among my weaknesses), I went to a delicious lunch. The review of the restaurant will be posted later. After lunch, I then headed to Schenley Plaza, and after a quick nap on the green, fell into a combination philosophical debate/ musical jam session with a group from Ohio State. A beautiful day always brings out the adventurous side in people. In the late afternoon, a brief but thoroughly enjoyable rehearsal was then followed by an absolutely delightful cast gathering. For a cast of 6 (7 with the director), 6 bottles of wine and a bottle of whiskey led to a really fun, yet sociable night overall.

The next day being Holi, the Hindu festival of colors, I was really excited to participate. It's something I've been wanting to do for a long time. For those of you who don't know what happens at Holi, among the music and dancing, there is much throwing of colored powder and spraying of colored water. It's simple, joyous fun. After being completely covered in dye by the end of the day, and eating my fill of delicious Indian food, I ended up finishing the day by hanging out with my friends from Slackline Pittsburgh, and Food Not Bombs.

It was fortunate that the weekend was so great, as this week was full of important decisions that needed to be made, both personal and profession. (Invariably, it always seem as if the two are intertwined.) I hate to be extremely vague, but in this case I need to be until I can see where things start to land.

Until next time,

Andrew

New York City, Round 2

My apologies for not writing from the "field" as it were, but I've only recently recovered from the day trip to New York. I ended up there for the day to audition, and as usual, the randomness of the day did not disappoint.

To start off with, a night bus is always an...interesting place to meet some new people. Usually, it's my preferred method of travel, but due to the lateness of the hour, I usually prefer to pop a sleeping pill or two, pass out, and wake up in my destination, fully rested. Unfortunately, or in this case, fortunately, the fates conspired a bit by having the bus packed to the gills, my own forgetfulness forgeting my medication, so I was wide awake.

I ended up next to Nicole, a 22 year old transgender female, up to NYC for a little vacation after ending her two and a half year old long distance relationship. It's funny how the lateness of the hour and close physical confines inspires a breaking down of borders between strangers. I also met Ashley this trip, an actor also heading up to audition for a show.

Open 24 Hours

After arriving early (ridiculously early, I think) we decided to grab breakfast together at the Tick Tock Dinner, a great little place on 34th and 8th. The big thing to remember about working, and eating as an actor is that each person has their own unique pre-audition rituals. Generally, most actors avoid dairy, and of course, since appearance is so important, we watch our weight. Aside from that, everyone is different. Since she is predominately a dancer, Ashley went with a basic fruit and eggs, while since I do mostly physical fight work and Shakespeare, I prefer to load up on protein. That's why I was thrilled when I saw the Protein Breakfast available, I had to get it. After ordering, an entire chicken breast, and a delicious egg white omelet with tomatoes, asparagus, and mushrooms. Fortunately, I was able to polish it off all the way (after splitting it three ways.) The vegetables were perfectly done, the asparagus with a fresh crisp taste, and the mushrooms, to die for. I found my new traditional NYC breakfast.

A lot of breakfast

With that lump in my stomach, I headed off to my audition. It went well, and I made the callbacks. Suddenly having several hours to myself in the middle of Manhattan, I decided to be an accidental tourist and actually go see the Empire State Building. It's a cool building (I'm a sucker for Art Deco architecture) but, it's a tourist destination, so I wasn't exactly enthralled.

Hopefully, the closest I'll come to being a tourist

Much more interesting to me was the pizza. New York is known all over as a pizza pilgrimage destination (although Chicago might have something to say about that) so I had to see what it was all about. I landed at NY Pizza Supreme, and I now know what people are talking about with pizza. It's probably the best I've ever had. Based off their recommendation, I went for something different, the Upside Down Pie. It's exactly what it says it is, the pizza built upside down, with the cheese on the bottom and the sauce on top. The advantage is that the cheese insulates the crust from the sauce, so it's crispy and chewy all at the same time.

The Upside-Down

It was so delicious, I had to go for one more slice. A true measurement of a pizza place is how they handle a Margherita. It's simplicity, with just mozzarella, basil, and tomato sauce, has been the downfall of more than one pizza joint. This is not the case, however, and NYPS proves that it's all about the ingredients. The perfectly crispy crust (try saying that three times fast) is complemented by the house-made mozzarella, (you can't get fresher than just made) and the basil was like a kick to the face with a basil foot, but in a really good way.

As fresh as it gets.

After the audition, a few of us (Steve and Ally) decided to celebrate and grab a beer at the Smiling Moose। Granted, I ended up with cider (which is manly in its own way) and some poutine (Ally's Canadian, so that's why we had to get an order.) As usual, and after the hilarity of Steve and myself trying to teach Ally to play pool (neither of us are very good to begin with, so a perfect example of the blind leading the blind.) We parted our separate ways, hopefully to meet again (if we get cast) and went back to our separate lives. That's one of the reasons I love to travel, even when you're in a strange city, you're never actually alone.

Until next time,

Andrew

Food for Thought?

Life has a habit of simultaneously throwing you a curve ball and giving you exactly what you need. Today was the perfect example of that.

As a native Pittsburgher, no matter what your ethnic background, you are familiar with pierogies (or pyrohi, pirogy, etc. it all depends on who you ask.) These Eastern European pockets of carb-happy goodness are one of the major facets of Pittsburgh cuisine. A pasta shell, wrapped around a mashed potato filling, then boiled, then topped with melted butter and caramelized onions, there is no way that they are healthy. But, that is neither here nor there, it's all about flavor and tradition.

Here's the first part of the admission: Background wise, I'm mostly English, Scottish and Irish. Most people would say that then gives me no right to discuss ethnic food of another culture That is why I went to the source, first generation Ukrainians who know their food the best.

And once again, I was surprised to find that the food takes a backseat to the company. I met some amazing people today, such as Katherine, a grandmother, who constantly referred to me as "Strong Young Man" Other notables there were Andrew, who left his family behind in the Ukraine, and Gene, a former member of the Secret Service, who protected President Nixon.

Of course, I would be remiss if I didn't mention Mary, a brassy grandmother who, when I was warned to stay away from her, responded with "Don't worry, he's a man, he likes the abuse"

Another thing I learned, is that I have nothing on a grandmother when it comes to cooking. I can try, with elaborate measurements and difficult techniques, but nothing is quite as surprising as after having cut out 120 or so pierogi shells, to turn around and have them ask where the next batch is. I was run ragged in a really good way by a bunch of sprightly grandmothers.

Of course, pierogies were not the only ethnic food I was exposed to today. I had my first experience with braunschwieger when it was offered to me. It is a very interestingly textured sausage, comprised of mostly pork liver and jowl meat. I appreciated the offer, but the texture and liver flavor together were just a little too much together.

The most surprising thing for me though, is what happened after the cooking. My friends know that I'm not a religious man by any stretch of the imagination. And if you read this, you know that I've been having some rough going. I stopped by the sanctuary today, because I've been feeling so lost, sat down, and started weeping, for a solid 20 minutes. I realized that I've been holding on to a lot of pain for a long while, and I was able to let it go. This is the best I've felt in a long time.

So, in the words of the philosopher Jagger: "You can't always get what you want, but if you try some times, you might find, you get what you need." Sometimes, the universe does take care of it's own.

By the way, for some amazing pierogies, visit http://www.stjohnspittsburgh.com/pirohi.htm and follow the directions to order. I guarantee they are some of the best pierogies in Pittsburgh.

Bonding with Strangers

Nothing pairs as well with good friends as good food. It's also funny how often the two are found together, and in the most unexpected places.

A sudden upsurge to spring-like temperatures (which unfortunately did not last) led me outside to congregate with a few friends from Slackline Pittsburgh over in Oakland. After hanging out (I could not stop the pun) for a few hours, we noticed a group dressed similarly to us setting up shop about 50 yards down the sidewalk. Being the curious group we are, we went to say hello, and were faced with a large amount of food.

The group turned out to be the Pittsburgh chapter of Food Not Bombs, a protest group. The vegetarian/ vegan group collects unmarketable produce from supermarkets and then distributes it out to the community. According to their website:

"Food not Bombs shares free vegan and vegetarian meals with the hungry in over 1,000 cities around the world to protest war, poverty, and the destruction of the environment. With over a billion people going hungry each day how can we spent another dollar on war?"

Personally, I'm not that political (I think politics just gets in the way of things.) so I have a tendency to just go with the flow and deal with people. The people with the Pittsburgh chapter seem very friendly and giving. As we were shivering from the cold, someone dished up bowls of home cooking to feed and warm us up a bit.

The food? It was very good, a spicy Spanish rice served on top of an assortment of green vegetables. The green peppers, lightly done, added a nice brightness and crispness to the dish. Of course, in a situation like this, the food takes second place to the people. It's about custom, and the finding of common ground. With the food in front of us, even though we all had different outlooks, and came from different situations, we all had something in common. The moral of the story? Well, I guess there isn't one, but there is a point, that nothing bonds people as much as food.

No Amish Country for Old Men

Here it is, February, and the first audition road trip of the year. Some where glamorous? Not exactly, but unique in it's own way. I'm here in the (relative) heart of Amish Country, Lancaster, Pennsylvania. To be truly specific, I'm in Lititz, a smaller town about 8 miles away from Lancaster. Why would I be here, you may ask. Simple, about 10 miles or so from here is the home of the Pennsylvania Renaissance Faire, one of the largest Faires in the U.S. I decided to audition this year.

There truly isn't that much to do here, I fully admit it. But what makes this area unique is the people. They are some of the nicest people you will ever meet, right there on the street. As much as I hate to say it, it's almost stereotypically small town. There is rarely a stranger, and you're an old friend within five minutes. Being raised in a city where the outsiders are never trusted, this is a new approach to life.

Not having much to do, and being hungry, as I usually am, I decided to try to investigate the local foods, and try for some regional specialties. In this situation, Lancaster County does not disappoint. The wide variety of food is fairly astounding, and generally pretty good. Some things truly stood out though.

First stop of the day turned out to be for desert, with a visit to the Wilbur Chocolate Factory. For those of you who don't know Wilbur, it's a smaller chocolate company in Downtown Lititz. What makes it notable is that it's been in operation for over 127 years. Due to the size, I think they offer a superior product than a larger company, such as Hershey's. Of special note are the Buds (Think something similar to a Hershey's Kiss, but not quite) which are delicious in the semisweet chocolate. (Granted it's chocolate, so of course it's delicious, but make sure to go for the semisweet, as it has a much more complex flavor profile than the cloying sweetness of the milk chocolate.)

Next up, craving something salty, as one is bound to do after something sweet, I headed to the Julius Sturgis Pretzel Bakery, the first commercial pretzel bakery in the U.S., according to their marketing materials. Also in downtown Lititz, the building is hard to miss with the large pretzel in front of it. I must say, they do make a good pretzel. But it's just that, a good pretzel, not a great one. Still, if you find yourself in the area, stop by, it's always fun to see how they are made.

Finally, after an exhausting audition, on the way back to the hotel, I happened to find a deli, S. Clyde Weaver, Smoked Meats and Cheeses, in the middle of Manheim. Curious to find out about what would be considered "traditional" Pennsylvania Dutch fare, I inquired about it to a rather knowledgeable fellow behind the counter, and he led me to three very disparate items that are unique to the Lancaster region.

The first of these items was Lebanon Bologna. As first glance, it's like no bologna I've ever seen before. Made of all beef, and with sugar, it is almost akin to salami, but even sweeter. I tried a sample, and it is delicious. Also in the case were rolls of the bologna, rolled with a vegetable cream cheese. The two together complement each other perfectly, and fortunately there are still a half dozen waiting for me in the refrigerator.

Next up, an item that 1) took me by surprise on a few counts, and 2) took some mental preparation to try. That item would be the tongue souse. Souse is a type of head cheese, which it turns out is not a cheese at all. It's actually a type of pressed meat (think homemade Spam) and the tongue part, well, you can figure it out for yourself. It's another all beef product. After a minute or five of looking at it, I decided, "What the hell, why not?" and gave it a try. Honestly, once you get past what it is that you're eating, and that mental block, it's actually really good. Full of spice, it has a full body, and the tongue is one of the most tender cuts of meat I've had. It's not something I'm going to dine on regularly, but for something different, it does not disappoint.

Finally, at the end of the day, desert once again, and the final item, shoofly pie. This is the culinary item most people think of when they hear Pennsylvania Dutch. The best way to think of this is as a marriage of a custard and a fruit pie. The notable exception is that in this case, it is a molasses based custard, with a thinner raisin based fruit layer. It is very good, but also extremely sweet, almost too much so. I could only handle a small piece personally. The crust to pie ratio however, is absolutely perfect. Now that is an item I will be dining on again, just in small doses, if only for my health.

I started this talking about travel, but then I ended up discussing the food. But doesn't this make a lot of sense? The best way to get to know a people is by experiencing the way they live. Food is something that unites all of us. The people of Lancaster are a welcoming, kind, down-to-earth group, and it's reflected in the food; simple, but filling, humble, but delicious and prepared with care. So, all in all, what I thought would be an inauspicious start has turned out to be a learning experience worth more than I ever thought it would be.
Until next time,
Andrew

The Pittsburgh Underground presents Tech Week Blues

As I write this, we just finished up day three of tech week on the latest show I'm working on. Fr those of you who aren't in the theatre industry, please allow me to explain. Tech week is the week before a play or musical opens, when all of the technical elements (set, costumes, sound, props, lights, etc.) are all supposed to come together to create a whole show. The operative word in that previous sentence is "supposed." Many theatre professionals also refer to this time period as "Hell Week," and with good reason. During this time, you can virtually be assured that whatever can go wrong, will.

As a result, much of my adventuring has been curtailed temporarily. So naturally, I've turned to find the underside of Pittsburgh, the underground, as it were. I ended up finding much more of the underground than I expected, on two different ends of the spectrum.

The first mini-adventure turned out to be a perfect example of seeing something unexpected. If you travel through the break room of a well known sandwich chain, you can find a staircase going down. This is intriguing, as the restaurant is on the ground floor. Four friends and I decided to investigate what was there. After going down the staircase, we found ourselves in an interesting maze of passages. Here are some of the interesting sights. Total exploration time: 2.5 Hours.

There were several blackboards throughout the building, and most of them had the phrase "Ouroboros Choked" on them.

A wall of what we think was a recording studio.

An abandoned escalator

An absolutely gorgeous vintage radio.

A few days later, I found myself underground in quite a different manner. One of the benefits, at least for me, of working with museums is that I have access to some absolutely fascinating things that very rarely ever see the light of day. In this case, I had a chance to check out this document:

That is a hundred year old hand written document of personal sketches from the American Civil War. In it, the soldiers wrote of their experiences during the War. I had a few hours to investigate this first-hand. A resource like this is literally one of a kind.

As it is now a little after 2 A.M., and I have work tomorrow, I do believe I will get some sleep. Good night all.

No Tourist

Hopefully, there will be a lot of people wondering about the name, and indeed, the purpose of the blog. So, here's the back story before I start on the adventure.

I'm just shy of my second year in theatre, At this point, I've completed four internships, and have been working as a professional for almost a year. In keeping with European tradition, I decided 2011 was going to be my year for adventure.

Since going off half cocked in the dead of winter is usually less than a good idea, January has been my planning month, and finding things a little closer to home. Among other things, exploring abandoned buildings, creating more stories, and doing a lot of writing.

February is when things are going to heat up. As it stands, I might be in Philadelphia, Chicago, New York, Lancaster, New Orleans, or touring the country. I might do a combination of all of the above. I don't know, and I find that exhilarating. It's going to be an adventure, on way or another.
Talk soon,
Andrew