Summer Tour Reflection
It has taken me a while to write this reflection about my experience this past summer, as there was a lot to reflect on. The aim is to keep my thoughts focused on what really happened and how I will grow from this experience. I'll be honest, when I started writing I wasn't sure where this entry would go. You're reading my thought process about how I am taking in the results of the summer tour
In case you didn't know or don't know, here's a quick summary of what happened: My storytelling piece Who Am I, Again? a verbal collage of stories about Brain Injury has been sitting in my head for years - marinating in my skull as this project I want to turn into something I want to tour with, but circumstance and ignorance about producing a show stalled this project for decades. Finally, this past summer I made a decision, faced the project head-on, and despite knowing next to nothing about how this works, I took on the challenge of arranging a summer performance tour.
Outside Alvina Krause Theatre, Bloomsburg, PA - taken by Anna Isaeva
How did I finally get this inspiration? After performing the Who Am I, Again? as a charity benefit and remembrance event in 2024, producer and director Nathan Williams approached me about turning the story into a film. To be clear, not a film of the storytelling performance, but an original work that blends storytelling and filmmaking into a surreal video journey for the audience. I was interested, and since that meeting, we have been working on this project as availability allows over the past two years. I'll write another blog about what is happening in the near future, but for this thought process, know that this project has helped to breathe new life into my performance work, and it inspired to apply as an artist for a series of Theatrical Fringe Festivals in the United States. Having never done this before, I had no idea what to expect, but I was selected by lottery to do the MidWest Trifecta Fringe tour - I would share my work at three of the festivals in the United States MidWest Fringe Festival group. And the festivals I selected were BorderLight Fringe in Cleveland, KCFringe in Kansas City, and The Minnesota Fringe in Minneapolis. In addition to these festivals, I arranged sponsored performances in Bloomsburg and State College, Pennsylvania. That made 16 performances over 6 weeks.
I was thrilled. Nerves filled my soul, but I also felt confident. What's more, theatrical Fringe Festivals have long stood on a pedestal in my mind and I had applied a nearly mythical grandeur to the idea - I learned about the Fringe when I was a teenager, and since then I have imagined these festivals as orgys of theatrical experimental excellence - maybe there would be naked clowns, perhaps a hampster would dance the Can-Can, spontaneous exploding pumpkins emerging from the butt of an audience member was not impossible - but had never had the chance to see any of this because I had never been able to attend. And now I had the opportunity to not just attend, but perform at three such festivals. It was, quite literally, a dream come true.
As for the reality of what happened...
The performances were less extreme than I had imagined, but that's not to say they weren't incredible. The festivals were amazing. Dozens of performances - straight theatre, solo-shows, improvisation, musicals, magic, puppetry - and a performer's pass allowing me to attend as many as could fit in my schedule. Incredible. Never have I been surrounded by so much theatre. And it was a full range of quality, with some performances opening my mind to new concepts and ideas, while some, admittedly, were less engaging - but I appreciated every performance, and this exposed me to the variety and constraints that exist at this high level of contemporary theater. Furthermore, it was a joy to make new friends and build contacts for future projects. In short, I loved being a part of the festivals.
The festival area in Cleveland, OH at BorderLight Fringe - taken by Lethan Candlish
Unfortunately, the other side is that I didn't - and still don't - know how to promote myself as a performer. This resulted in many of my fringe festival audiences being near empty. I thought I was doing everything right, I hired a publicity firm, started learning Instagram, and had a nice flyer printed that I could share on the site, but nothing seemed to draw a crowd. That's not to say my performance wasn't received well. Every show had at least a small audience, and after each performance people shared how they were moved by the work. More than a few people (relatively speaking, considering my audience size) exclaimed that it was a favorite piece of the festival. The audience reviews were fantastic. I'll be straight and recognize that It is an honor to have connected with so many people on this subject, but the hard reality was that the seats were still empty, and that hurt. And if I can claim some humility, I really don't mind small audiences - there is an intimacy with such performances that is special and I'm kind of used to small shows, but not having people makes me tentative about future Fringe Festivals - I had a lot of bills tied to these festivals. I traveled from China, flew around the country, ate in every location, took Uber rides galore, and all of this added up to an expensive journey. I never expected to make the big bucks at these festivals, but was hoping to come close to breaking even. I didn't.
That said, the investment was worth it. Learning the truth - good and difficult. I feel no regrets, and it was worth the money, but the deep financial loss makes it hard to consider future Fringe events without sponsorship. The flavor of my summer Fringe tour was the wonderful sweetness of a well-done show, but mixed with some bitterness from being unsustainable.
And after the festivals, the tour ended with two shows in Pennsylvania, and these events reinvigorated my commitment to the work. The first of these was in my hometown of Bloomsburg. I found the prospect of this performance especially exciting because I would be at the Alvina Krause Theatre as a guest artist with the Bloomsburg Theatre Ensemble. This is the exact spot where my love of theatre began - at age 11, playing Peter Cratchit in A Christmas Carol as a community actor in the annual production. Nostalgia filled my mind as I got ready to share my original work, but there was also fear; after 14 shows to small audiences, I worried the same would happen in Bloomsburg, so I tried to keep my expectations low.
On stairs at Alvina Krause Theatre
Taken by Anna Isaeva
But the evening of the performance came, and I couldn't have asked for a better experience. The house was slightly more than half full (just over 150 people) and I felt like my work was being seen. What's more, the audience was a wonderful mix of friends from my youth and strangers who were inspired by the story. And the response was powerful - the message, the composition, the performance - were all praised, including praise from some community role models I had idolized in my youth. And while accolades could continue, the short of it was feeling a little overwhelmed by the appreciation and joy in the event, and it affirmed my commitment to working with the piece. It was a special night, and I look forward to working with everyone involved in this project in the future.
Then, just a few days later, we toured to State College where I shared the work with an entirely new audience - I knew a few people, but it was largely a crowd of strangers. A much smaller audience, in terms of butts in seats, but the space was compact enough that the piece felt appreciated. It was a perfect way to end the tour. Just a couple of days later, I was flying back to China.
What are my takeaways? The simple answer is that I had a great time - it opened my mind to a wealth of new experiences - and I want to do more national tours...but if I am ever to do it again, I need to find a way to make it financially feasible. The small audiences at the fringe festivals hurt - especially when contrasted with the fantastic responses. The fact that the audiences are small is something my ego can handle. I've become used to smaller audiences and not losing my energy as a performer, but the audience size is not the problem - my issue is that I cannot afford to travel the country without making enough to break even - I got bills. The final two performances helped offset these financial losses, as they were sponsored performances and the hosting groups provided generous assistance, but the tour still ended deep in the red. Despite these losses, I leave this experience with a strong commitment that this piece must be shared and I must continue to advocate the use of storytelling as a tool in rehabilitation after TBI. Survivors and family members, professional caregivers, friends, and strangers all appreciated the power in this performance, and many people recognized the themes in other sorts of personal trauma - feelings of isolation, abandonment, and rebirth as shared by this story are common to intensive healing. People want to share their stories and I feel called to support these stories.
The question before me: how can I support my family doing this work?
The first step, one I'm starting now, is building on the contacts I made on this tour. My intention is to return to the United States in July 2027 (I currently live in China), and I hope that when I return, I can have a sponsored performance and workshop tour already set - several people seemed to suggest this could be done, but turning that into a reality is a huge step. That said, assuming a tour can provide sufficient income, my plan would be to take the next few months to research and prepare a new piece related to recovery - I have some ideas flopping about in my head, but living in China (and not speaking the language) has limited my in-person research that would help to expand these ideas. I hope being directly involved with a larger community of survivors will break through this frustratingly dense writer's block and provide sources and inspiration for new material.
On Stage at Alvina Krause Theatre - taken by Anna Isaeva
That is the ideal - the perfect situation. While I think this possibility makes sense and I am beginning talks for the next steps - it is currently a fantasy. Still, I'm taking steps to support this plan, as I am currently creating a workshop format that explains how to use storytelling as a rehabilitative tool after injury. It will a step-by-step guide that offers a clear path for survivors less familiar with storytelling to begin their story-creation process. I will publish the first draft of the plan on this website before the end of the year.
I also don't want to give up on fringe festival performances; sharing this work was incredible and thrilling, but until I have more resources I won't be able to do a full summer of fringe. Instead, I will apply for a few festivals that will be easier to access, and if I am picked, select one festival (or maybe two) that will fit my schedule and ability to travel. This can cut down my financial gamble and make the Festival more of a "fun thing to do." I've realized that this is the way many fringe artists work - staying close to home, but living on the fringe of events. The dream is to travel the world as a storyteller, but I need some time to build up to that. Nothing against Fringe Festivals, but I need to learn a bit before I try again at any large scale. And now that I've learned to give my work better focus, I am ready to start learning and building.
Those are my thoughts as I process this past summer. Please, if you have any comments leave them on the page. I appreciate everyone who was a part of these events. And thank you for reading as I work through my reactions. Taking the time to write these thoughts has changed the flavor of the memory - the bitterness lingers, but I recognize it as a complementary flavor. My primary intention for this tour was to learn, and learning takes some sacrifice. I can accept that. Now it's time to turn those lessons into action.
