BY LUCIA MAURO
 |
For Ilesa Duncan, theatre cannot be separated from its divine potential. The Chicago director recalls reading about three different approaches to theatre: to entertain; to educate; and the less tangible, spiritually based motivation connected to "transformative healing."
"Spirituality is the driving force for me," says Duncan, who has worked as an actor, director and producer since moving to Chicago in the mid-1980s. "It’s really about the spiritual lesson inside the art form. I believe everything I do is a communal healing process."
Originally from Indianapolis, Duncan is an artistic associate at Chicago Theatre Company (CTC) and has directed plays at Pegasus Players (Ev’ry Time I Feel the Spirit, Bronzeville), Live Bait (Love Child), Victory Gardens (Waiting to Be Invited with Irma Hall), Chernin Center for the Arts (Amistad Voices), Writers’ Theatre (Eastville), Chicago Dramatists and the Guild Complex. Regionally, Duncan also has directed for the Phoenix Theatre in Indianapolis (CTC’s production of Shakin’ the Mess Outta Misery), the Marcus Center in Milwaukee, and Contemporary American Theatre Company in Columbus, Ohio (A Raisin in the Sun).
She directed Luther Goins’ highly successful Love Child, a tragicomedy addressing teen pregnancy, for its premiere last year at Live Bait. The work was then re-mounted at Chicago Theatre Company, where it’s back by popular demand through July 14. Love Child will then be staged July 24-28 at Theater on the Lake. (See story page 5.)
At the time of the interview, Duncan was preparing for a showcase of Chicago actor-playwright Nambi E. Kelly’s new play, Red Rain, at the Lincoln Center’s Directing Lab. She is also in the beginning stages of collaborating with local playwright David Barr on a work looking at a soon-to-be-disclosed issue from a multicultural perspective.
The director says she prefers to team up with playwrights who are debuting original works–especially when the pieces take multidisciplinary shape. Red Rain, for instance, is a non-linear "choreopoem" that incorporates movement and music as it examines the cycles of birth, life, death and transformation.
"It really captured me," says Duncan of Red Rain, "especially the idea of how we are connected to the fluid and to the fluidity of life. It’s in a polyrhythmic style that’s very African."
Her attraction to Barr’s work is linked to the playwright’s interest in exploring what happens when diverse people gather around a heated issue, like in his latest drama Bronzeville, which addresses the shaky revitalization of the title historic African-American neighborhood.
As a director, Duncan encourages writers "to figure out what their voices are–finding that kernel and getting to the essence of what they have to say. Directing is collaboration."
She enjoys working with the playwright and cast in the early rehearsal stages. Then she needs time alone with the cast and also wants to give the writer a chance to breathe. "There may be some critiquing going on," says Duncan. "The playwright does not have to be getting critiqued the entire time. There’s no need to trample on someone’s life blood. Then we re-group later on and explore any changes or concerns."
Her overall approach is based on what each script calls for, and she always keeps the seed or essence of the story in mind.
"Directing is like an alchemical process," Duncan explains. "I start by reading and reading the script until it generates an idea. I see things so visually. My father and sister are visual artists, and visual art has informed how I envision a work on stage. My concept may come in the form of a dream. Then I go into the rehearsal process and throw it all away. I let the artists share their visions.
"It’s like we all put our ideas into a pot. I’m just the person at the cauldron stirring. Everyone puts in their own ingredients. I also try to stretch people beyond their comfort zones. That’s why I’m always stepping out of theatre. I don’t want to get too comfortable. Theatre is about mutating and transforming."
Duncan was introduced to acting as a child at her neighborhood "Y" in Indianapolis. "I just took to [theatre]," recalls Duncan. "I immediately connected and basically took over the class. I just started assigning parts and directing the other students when I was about 8-years-old."
While in high school, she wrote poetry, was involved in oral interpretation and was a member of the drama club and pom pons. Duncan later worked at Indianapolis’ Phoenix and Civic theatres.
"Indianapolis was certainly a breeding ground for the arts," she acknowledges. "But there were not a great number of opportunities to pursue a career in theatre. It was a springboard if you wanted to do more."
After taking theatre classes at Indiana University, Duncan became restless and considered moving to New York. But she decided to stop in Chicago instead and ended up staying. She received her degree in film and video (with substantial acting classes) from Columbia College Chicago.
She then co-founded Chameleon Productions, an all-women of color experimental theatre troupe that produced mostly original, poetry-based work. They performed in Edgewater in the space that later housed Onyx Theater and now is the home of City Lit. Productions included Do You See What I’m Saying?, The House on Mango Street, Blakk Love Storeez of a Darker Hue, and Blakk Love II. It was here that Duncan was encouraged by her colleagues to become both a director and a producer because of her "strong vision."
Although Chameleon no longer produces, she found the experience to be a rewarding and educational one.
"We were primarily a company of actors," says Duncan. "At some point, you have to decide if you’re an artist or an administrator. But, like the name, we kept transforming ourselves. Our initial focus was Afro-centric– exploring the voices of black women. Then we began to look at issues surrounding Asian and Latina women. Later on, we created works that were choreopoems."
Chameleon attests to Duncan’s love of all types of performance, which she attributes to "that whole polyrhythmic thing. Expression, for me, weaves many elements together."
Her first directing opportunity with CTC came in 1996 with Do Lord Remember Me. CTC resident playwright David Barr had seen Duncan’s work with Chameleon and recommended she get involved with CTC. She also became a strong woman’s voice in the then male-oriented CTC.
With Do Lord Remember Me, the director first resisted, saying, "Slave narratives –we’ve been there, done that. But then I realized that these stories have to be told. This is a way of honoring our ancestors. I’ve always been guided by the idea of the ancient progressive–honoring ancestral progression and making that history very present."
Duncan went on to direct Shakin’ the Mess Outta Misery and Love Talk, a relationship play in which she incorporated video projections to illustrate how we perceive each other through the stimuli of a digital culture.
Future directing projects came about through that inexplicable momentum of other theatre artists noticing her work and spreading the word. Duncan believes that the best education for a director is to be "a sponge" and see as many productions as possible in every imaginable genre. She regularly attends traditional theatre, as well as modern and African dance, hip-hop performances, music concerts and poetry slams. After all, she notes, "We’re all storytellers, and we can tell our stories in endless ways."
Duncan continues to spread the multitudinous manners of sharing stories through her involvement as program director for the Grand Boulevard Community Arts Initiative in Bronzeville, a youth organization geared toward students ages 8-18.
One part consists of an after-school program, which focuses on visual art and includes a traveling photo exhibit of historic Bronzeville. Duncan is making it more multidisciplinary, with the inclusion of dance, music, theatre, storytelling and poetry. The other part of the initiative is called "Open Book," which encourages a love of reading by translating fiction to staged dramas.
Duncan focuses on directing but, if the acting bug bites, she filters that urge into poetry readings. She also is writing a screenplay but notes, "I’m holding it close until I’m ready to share it." Overall, she is attracted to topics revolving around issues of perception and transformative journeys.
She commends the Chicago community for its rich and vibrant African-American theatre scene but also believes there’s room on a regional level for a larger black theatre.
"I also think it’s still extremely difficult to make a living in theatre," laments Duncan. "I remember attending a conference in New York, and a producer told us how we chose to go into theatre because of the craft and that should be our only goal. He didn’t think money should even be a consideration.
"Well, I don’t buy that. Why should we as theatre artists have to work 12 jobs? It should be an expectation where we can make a life in theatre–in this business of show. I always believed you should pay the artists something. That’s spiritual energy to me. As an artist, I want to be well off and happy. I’m not buyin’ into that starvin’ artist crap."
Duncan thinks that artists can make a substantial living as soon as contemporary society reorganizes its value systems. She goes back to the notion of the "ancient progressive."
"Art in ancient times was of equal value to medicine and other professions," she continues. "Theatre is spiritual medicine. What we can learn from early cultures is their holistic approach to individuals. We need to value the arts as much as we value basketball and other fields."
Throughout our conversation, Duncan exudes a spiritual calm. Yet her spirituality is not an ephemeral idea; it’s a concrete element of her being. Around 1997, she had a spiritual awakening and began to look closely at her African roots. She became very interested in an empowerment program called First Voice, which urged individuals to name themselves and claim that new name.
"You’re claiming your form of expression," Duncan says. "We are all on our particular journeys. Everyone must come from a place of strength; it’s about being perceived from a dominant culture from a point of strength.
"I was given my name–Ilesa (which is the Nigerian spelling) by a priest of African spirituality. The name is usually connected to an ancestral path; sometimes it’s based on the essence of a person’s lineage. This was a clear way to define and express what and where I was. It became clearer what my path was."
Her spiritual journey, however, is endless. And theatre remains her life-giving portal.
"The work must connect to the audience," insists Duncan. "Theatre links to all these ancient cultures. It’s part of the process of self-identifying and re-connecting the dots. That’s why I do theatre."