At Home with the Hamazons

A rainy day in the Klamath Valley. Tanya is packing for a trip to the Bay Area, six-and-one-half hours drive away. I am packing my instant household (just add space) into my portable storage shed for the two-hour ride into Ashland. A rainy day on Klamath Valley Road. I want to get out and take photographs of the mist pouring down the valley walls above the slow jade undulation of the river. The camera, the umbrella, the cars that want to pass me. I don't stop. I sing songs I love. I hear my voice clearly, reflected by the windshield. I sing rubatto, uninfluenced by the rhythm of a guitar. Fifty miles slide by.

A rainy day on Interstate Five. Dinosaur-sized metal boxes on wheels hurtling downhill, past the sign that says "exit for runaway trucks", spraying waves of rain onto my windshield. I rejoice upon the exit ramp.

I follow the directions on Sierra's email. Deborah Elliot's townhouse, where Sierra awaits her next rural cottage rental, pristine, warm with wooden furniture, folk art, health food, cute cats, flowering plants, funny stories. They research Shakespeare Festival tickets for me. Sierra and Deborah e-mail my July 3 page to the other Hamazons. Sierra has been watching my progress and thinking about a tour of her own. I was hoping that was the case. She has created three one-woman shows with workshops. I rejoice in advance. We have both long awaited the freedom and power we now feel to do our art on a large scale.


Sierra Faith and Deborah Elliot at home

We all watch TV. First, a movie called Restoration. Then West Wing. Then Sirens, another historical film. Intelligent TV. Important themes and thoughts. I continue to type on my laptop, very slowly, in between throes of hypnotic thrall to the screen. I consider the vast information needed to do theatrical improvisation. This is their research. Another style of bohemia. This is my research.


Deborah's flower garden, complete with Buddha