Hello friends,

I missed my post yesterday, I plum forgot, and today I’m going to try something a little bit new.  I’m seeing a lot of master storytellers down here, and my thought is I would like to share my thoughts on some of them with you, so below we’ve got some bits about two storytellers I’ve seen in the last two days.  But don’t you worry, if any of you were (and I doubt you were) I won’t be not telling about what’s happening with my tales or any of my own philosophies, this will just be another part of the blog, that way it won’t turn into just a ramblin’ about me, but we’ll keep it a little more interesting and might give you some thoughts about other storytellers to check out.  Enjoy.

Lethan

8/29/07 – Willie Claflin - National Storytelling Center

What stands out most about Claflin’s show is the seamless transition he makes from conversing with the audience into the story (hypnotizing the audience).  This was discussed afterwards, and we looked at: 1) setting the scene for the story, which Claflin performs in a conversational style, interacting with the audience, speaking directly to us; and then 2) he transitions into the story with a “Once upon a time” like phrase: such as “One night, when I was lying in bed…”.  This helps the audience to make the transition into the story.  He also recognizes this is not the only way to do this; he referenced Sid Lieberman method of taking a beat to step into the story.

Claflin also referenced that he tends to be a rather shy person, yet he finds his place at home on stage.  His informal presentation style is a result of this: he imagines the stage as a living room, kitchen, or porch where he is just gathering with some friends to share.  It seems this allows the audience to be drawn in quicker – it removes the fourth wall and allows us to be with him.  As mentioned above, this allows the transition into the story to be seamless and I, as an audience member, didn’t feel I was being forced to imagine, or even asked, my mind just took off.

There were two stage props used by Claflin in his performance: Maynard the Moose (a puppet) and a guitar.  I will discuss each of these individually.  Maynard’s cartoon-like persona gave Claflin the ability to interact with the audience in a way he would not be able to do.  Maynard loved the word “stupid” and was able to use it to such an extreme that it became comical.  Claflin also mentioned how, by Maynard’s use of the term, his own son didn’t feel compelled to use it.  I think this may come from the presentation of Maynard as such a fool that we laugh at, not with, and the children watching this don’t seek to hold Maynard as an ideal, when they mimic him it is in jest.  The cartoon-like character could also allow for some slapstick in a performance.

Typically a guitar is used to accompany songs, and from Claflin’s mention of his previous experience as a folk musician I assume that he can use it for this, but what I found interesting in this performance was how the guitar was not used in this manner.  He did take his starting note from it for the folk ballad he sung, but then the piece was unaccompanied.  The piece in which the guitar was most used, however, was his piece about “ugly music” and his beginning use of the guitar.  While the guitar was used to make music, its primary purpose was to be a prop: the thing his parents didn’t approve of and allowed his rebellious actions.  It became a part of the story and not an accompanying tool outside the story.

After Claflin’s performance, we had the opportunity to sit and talk with him for a bit.  During this discussion, we learned of his study of some deceased tellers styles: Marshall Dodge, Gamble Rogers, and J J Reneaux.  What I found fascinating here was his focus on, not only telling the tellers stories, but telling in their voice.  It was here that I most recognized his musical training through his focus on the rhythm and tone of each teller.  It also reemphasized what the voice of a teller brings to a performance.  We heard the grand difference between Claflin’s own voice, Marshall Dodge’s Maine slow speech, and Gamble Roger’s quick southern speech.

Claflin’s style allowed me to not even feel as if I was watching a performance.  I was just sitting with some friends and sharing some time: beautifully done and fulfilling for the soul.

8/30/07 – Ray Hicks – two videos (A Foolish Irishman Tale and Solider Jack)

We saw two videos of Ray Hicks today: he performed A Foolish Irishman (Arishman) Tale and Soldier Jack.  You could sense, even from the video, that this man was born and raised on storytelling.  He didn’t perform, he just let the stories come.  Now I will try to analyze some of what allowed him to work his craft.

Hicks’ mountain accent was thick through out both stories, and at times I had difficulty understanding the words, but what I found interesting was that this didn’t take away from the story at all.  Instead, the rhythm and sound of the language caught me and carried me with it.  It reminded me of something Willie Claflin said yesterday when talking about the benefit of reading words to children that they might not understand: “…it allows children to plunge into the sea of language.”  That’s how I felt with Hicks, I was carried away on a current and didn’t have any need to look back or even understand what was happening.

You could also tell his attachment to storytelling though his gestures and posture.  When he was in the story it seemed to take over his body: he wasn’t acting out the story, but letting the story make him act.  His face would light up, his hands would start flailing, or they wouldn’t, but it all looked natural.  No, it was natural.  He referenced the power of stories in the video we saw about him when he mentioned how telling stories revives him, however tired he may be, after he tells a story he feels alive.

One piece I noticed is that his stories, especially Soldier Jack, didn’t have a grand conclusion, no “button”.  Instead the piece just trickled away, back into reality again.  Coming from a theatrical background, I find this fascinating.  Hicks’ Foolish Irishman story did have a punch line, causing the audience to laugh, but there was nothing in Soldier Jack.  Through my theater and other performance arts, I’ve been trained that there needs to be an ending, some cue to let the audience know, “Alright, the show is done, it’s time to clap,” but Hicks’ Jack story didn’t have that at all.  The audience he was performing to, a group of children, didn’t even clap.  In discussion afterwards, I learned this is typical for more traditional tellers, and that makes sense; the story is not a performance, merely a tale that needs to come out.

I don’t know whether I like this.  In many ways, I find it beautiful: while the teller is completely a part of the story and his put him or herself in the story, it isn’t about the teller, and that is storytelling; but at the same time I’ve been schooled in performance arts for such a long time that I do view storytelling as a performance, and feel the performer should be recognized by the audience if they have done a good job (which Hicks certainly did).  I also wonder the unrecognized teller may be one thing that brings harm to storytelling in our culture; people do not recognize the importance of the art when they’re just hearing their grandfather ramble on again, no matter how much they may enjoy his rambles.  And I will admit: I do believe my ego plays a part in my thoughts; I love to hear that I have an effect on the audience when I perform.  And yes, I do perform.  Maybe that’s the difference, Hicks just lives the stories, and that is a beautiful thing.

Hello friends,

And so it began.  The long awaited day: the day that brought both trepidation and excitement to my thoughts; the day that officially began my reason for moving far to the south; the first day of classes!

And it was….!

Nice.

Nothing too crazy, just nice.

I had two classes presented by Dr. Sobol today, one exploring the individual styles of telling personal stories and the other focusing on the psychological benefit of stories for a person: both classes seem like they will challenge me appropriately and help to increase my awareness of the art of storytelling, but will not overload me to any unreasonable extreme.

The best news, however, is that I anticipate learning a host of new stories to share and new techniques to explore.  I don’t know what will happen to my technique through all this, but I’m excited to find out, and even more excited to share my learning with all of you.

Another interesting bit involves my work with Alice in Wonderland.  As you may know, I am beginning to work on creating a performance of the classic story (a story for all ages), and as part of this I am researching Lewis Carroll’s (Charles Dodgeson’s) life.  Of all I’ve learned so far, what I find most interesting is the complete lack of agreement about his life.  There are different stories about what “actually” happened from Dodgeson’s Diaries, later interviews with Dodgeson, interviews with Alice Lidell (the girl who stars in the stories), and the meteorological report (it is recorded as being a rainy day when the Alice stories were supposedly first told to the Lidell children who were sitting outside, or in a boat, depending upon which account you read/hear).  I had no idea there was so much academic controversy over the facts of this man’s life, and it is fascinating to learn the many different stories and learn the scholar’s arguments for believing the account they support.

What do I believe?  I do not know yet.  I have no intention of deciding upon a story about the author of the story until I have read much more and worked with the text enough to believe I finally have begun to understand the many nuances in the piece: at which point I will probably choose the story I find most artistically interesting – the story I feel best coincides with whatever “truth” I settle on in the piece; for that, I (currently) believe, is the goal of art, particularly storytelling, to find the truth of a piece, regardless of the facts.

Best,

Lethan

Classes began today, but I had none.  Instead, I ran several errands to better prepare myself for my start of classes on the morrow.  I did, however, have to opportunity to meet several other members of the storytelling community, including my fellow storytelling students.  There are eight of us, and with these eight we create a remarkably diverse group: wide age range, many reasons for being in the program (some to improve their teaching ability, others looking to organize events, and still others wanting to improve their performances), and at a multiplicity of stages in our lives (from soul searching, to beginning career, to changing career, to a little bit of all three).  This does, however, see like a supportive group which I believe will help me learn a lot, though Dr Sobol did emphasize that the journey will be self led: help will be given, but I will be the one traveling.  A little intimidating, but also exciting.  I am looking forward to what these adventures will bring (I hope).  Keep in touch to continue to learn about these travels.

Best,

Lethan

The line between stand-up comedy and storytelling has often confused me.  I have seen storytellers who have left me in stitches from laughter (Bill Lepp, Ed Stivender, and so on) and I have seen some comedians who tell a strong story (Bill Cosby, early Whoopi Goldberg).  This raises the question: are stand-up comedy and storytelling two of the same thing, just given different names?

Thanks to conversations with several established storytellers, and a lot of thought, the dividing line has become clearer as of late.  Stand-up comedians can be storytellers and storytellers can be comical, but what makes storytelling a separate art form is the fact that there must be a story in it (yes, it may seem obvious to some of you, but the simple idea eluded me for a long while).

My reason for presenting this point today is that I was studying the technique of my favorite comedian today: Robin Williams.  Robin’s improvisatory style, spontaneity, over energized performances, and toying with voices has enthralled me since my youth.  I believe it is for reasons such as these that, for quite some time, I found myself believing him to be a storyteller comedian.  Today, however, I questioned that belief and watched a collection of bits of his work (thank you youtube).  From these clips, I came to the conclusion that, while Robin creates a host of characters through his work, he is not a storyteller – his jokes rely on his quick wit and punch lines, not because of a drawn out through line.

Please note, this is not meant negatively.  I do not take storytelling to be a higher art than stand-up comedy: I am still a fan of Robin’s work and still consider him to be an influence in my work.  This entry is merely a recognition of the differences in the art forms and an observation about one of my favorite performers.

If any of you have any thoughts on this distinction, please feel free to send them my way.

Until next time,

Best,

Lethan

Hello friends,

Today has been a perfectly lackadaisical day.  My morning consisted of sleeping, which led to an afternoon with a slight bit of productivity – for those of you who don’t know, I’m beginning to work on memorizing Alice in Wonderland and will be working with my dear friend Quinn Collins, a musical composer, who will write an original score to accompany the performance (anticipating a completion date in 2010) – and I spent some time working on that.  I also read Brer Rabbit stories for a while, so let us say this day was used for research, and much needed rest to prepare for classes which begin on Monday.

I also considered heading out into the community this evening to meet some new friends and see a concert I was told about, but a look outside revealed that the rains choose to visit Tennessee tonight, and while the rains are greatly needed and much appreciated (there’s been a terrible drought), they put a damper on my plans for this evening, so it looks as if relaxation may be what is called for tonight.  And I will not complain.  May you all find a time to do nothing soon, sometimes that’s just what needs to happen.

Best,
Lethan

Hello friends,

Today has been a slightly calmer day of settling in at ETSU (East Tennessee State University).  One of the reasons it was slightly calmer is that a good bit of the day involved waiting in lines.  And waiting.  And wai- well, I’m sure you get the picture.  That’s not to say it was all negative.  Several knew friends became known during this time and (nearly) all of the annoying bureaucratic nonsense was completed, which means now that the move and the organization has been mostly completed, I can focus primarily on my study of storytelling.  As a celebration of this new focus, I played X-box and PlayStation video games with my house-mate, Raynor (hehe, don’t worry, I recognize the inconsistency in that statement).

But have no frets, I also did work on some storytelling research and read information about the ‘beat generation’ and some Allen Ginsberg.  This caused me to ponder, as well written works often do, and I found myself wondering is there a contemporary counterculture in America.  I recognize there are many subcultures in America (the retro ‘hippies’ of the jam music scene, inner city rap fans, the theater community,…), but it seems each of these subcultures conforms with societal standards to such a great extent that they cannot be termed ‘counterculture’.

This may be from Western Society opening its acceptability standards to such a great extent that what would have in the past been termed an unacceptable counterculture is now acceptable, or it may be because we as a group do not feel safe rebelling as a culture, or it may be because the media has dulled our ambition to such an extent to that the motivation cannot be found for any group of peoples to fight against the constraints imposed by society, or it may be for any one of a billion other reasons, or it may be that there is a or several counter cultures.  I don’t claim to know, these are just some thoughts.

What I have noticed, however, is that I have felt what seems to be a dissatisfaction with the order of things by many people, an undercurrent of searching for something, but what that something is we are not sure.  Unfortunately I can’t better articulate this idea.  I’ve had conversations with several friends about this, and they have agreed that there is… maybe a social unrest? of some sort beginning to look for a way to reveal itself in American society; not with every person, but everyday it seems more are becoming aware of it.

I don’t know if there is any validity to this idea or if its just me blowing hot air out of my youthful, revolution oriented skull, but I would be curious on all of your thoughts.  Please, if you could, give me any thoughts you might have on the idea of a true counterculture in America today and the possibility of a typically unacknowledged search for… something.

I hope all is well with you and all the best stories are finding you, and until we talk again,

Best,

Lethan

Hello friends,

A host of exciting and challenging events have been tumbling my way recently, so I thought I would take a minute and fill you in on them:

1)      Last weekend (August 17^th – 19^th) I spent some time with several other storytellers and we were all studying under the deservedly well-known storyteller Bill Harley.  There were five storytelling students, including myself, at this workshop and we were all treated to a challenging while equally supportive experience.  Bill worked with us as a group and individually, being sure to critically dissect our work while allowing our own creativity to flourish.  And what creativity it was: each of us told stories in a different style and the fact that I was exposed to such a variety of styles allowed my mind to begin exploring some new thoughts about how I might want to tell.  Most importantly, however, working with Bill has helped me to bring a weakness in my storytelling into focus.  I am a performer, and while that has helped me in my initiation into storytelling, this workshop has helped me to see how my theatrical presentations may create some limits in my ability to connect with the audience (all of you) on a deeper, personal level.  I’ve been toying with this in my mind at times over the past year, but my time at the workshop has better defined the difficulty while allowing me to start discovering ways to work with it, and so it has become my primary goal in the next half year of my studies in storytelling: to allow my stories to speak directly to the audience and not to lose myself in the narration.

But where will I work on this?  How can I find a way to keep myself to this goal?  Well that brings us to the next exciting piece of news, my new location:

2)      I am now at East Tennessee State University in Johnson City, TN about to officially begin work on my master’s degree in storytelling.  You might call me a Tennessite now, or you might not, but here I am.  I have just about finished my moving in/setting up process and, for the most part, have had a splendid time.  I’m living in an on-campus apartment with a my new housemate, Raynor.  I will admit to some fears about him before I met him: who was this southern boy I couldn’t seem to get in contact with?  Would he treat me nice, or was I just another Yank (a northern boy) to him?  But my fears were quickly calmed when I moved in Monday morning and he removed his groggy self from out of his bedroom to great me.  It was then that I began to discover what a kind and interesting man he is.  I was soon there after acquainted with his girlfriend Samantha (not Samantha Jean, though Raynor and I believe the ‘Jean’ would be a good addition to her name) and she was quick to inform me that she and Raynor were the coolest people.  Ever.  While I hesitate to pamper her ego to that extreme, as of yet I have found no reason to doubt her.  They are both open-minded, fun, interesting souls I feel lucky to have stumbled upon.  While I will not attempt to predict the future, I would not be surprised to find all of us remaining friends for years to come.

And that’s not the end of the excitement.  I’ve begun contacting the storytelling program in which I will be studying, and am pleased to announce that it continues to look appealing.  I’ve spoken with both Dr. Joseph Sobol and Dr. Delanna Reed, and already ideas have begun to bubble between us.  I’ve also met another storytelling student: Margaret, and have a feeling working with her will open a host of new ideas in my mind and new possibilities of where I might perform.

I will admit that there has been some difficulty with my assistanceship (how I can afford to attend this program), but with perseverance and friendly words, I believe I have almost worked through the difficulties, but only time will tell.  And I suppose I will tell as well, for now that I have internet access in my room, I intend to keep the blog on my site (www.travelingtales.net) much better updated (daily, or at least close to daily) about the most recent tales from my travels, so please check the site regularly and I look forward to keeping all of you informed about the world I am becoming more and more involved with.

That ramble is all for now.  I look forward to telling all of you about the adventures on the road toward stories, and if any of you feel like sharing an adventure, please feel free to email me (lethan@travelingtales.net).  For now, however, I must depart, maybe do some reading, or maybe just do some sleep.  But until next time, may all the best stories tumble your way and may you always walk with a smile upon your face.

Best,
Lethan Candlish

www.travelingtales.net

Today I’d like to write on fate for a moment.  Can a thing be fated to be?  What is the difference between fate and coincidence?  Is there any difference?

Many of you may know that I was a philosophy student in undergraduate college.  As a philosophy student I was, and in many ways still am, committed to the study of logic and how we might use that logic to derive conclusions about the reality of the world: X = Y if and only if X also = Q.  As part of these studies I intellectually convinced myself that fate is a myth, a creation by humanity to explain the many random occurrences, positive or negative, that come upon us and have a major effect on our existence.  To say, “There is nothing that could be done, it was fated to happen,” is nonsense.  By the denial of fate, all events are merely coincidences, thoughts of predetermined events that must occur in our reality because of some outside manipulation of events (be that by God, some universal bond, or any other superhuman power) is merely a fabrication created to bring order to the chaos in which we live.

Period.

Academically, I can agree to this.  Intellectually, I am satisfied by this.  Logically this makes sense.  Through reason I can conclude there is no reason to the natural world, no order to things.

And that is what I think – until fate intervenes.  A moment might occur: a meeting, an event, a revelation; when every instant shows itself to be nothing less then perfection.  Every word, breath, gesture, thought, leaves your mind – your soul – with an eloquence that exceeds any expectation you could hold for yourself on the best of days.  This is not you acting.  You are not controlling the jumble tumbling out of your soul and it cannot be a coincidence, there is too much prepared perfection.

It is at these moments that I cannot help but attempt to deny that my mind is intellectually superior to any belief.  I feel called to refute the impossibility of fate.  The coincidences are so tightly intertwined that the possibility – no – the probability of an ethereal force directing some play in which we all take part seems as if though it must be.  It would be nonsensical to deny what we had termed as nonsense.  We term it fate: the night could not have not happened; the phone was destined to ring, it had to be him; I was drawn to her.

But logic has the somber tendency of stretching its cold, calculated fingers around time, reminding us never to place hope in some glorified disturbance of reason.  It does not intend to be crushing, vicious, or cruel.  The only purpose is to remind us of the world in which we live, to keep us grounded, practical.  The flawlessness of fate will dwindle away, while the scabs and scars of reality reveal themselves.  The fallacious fantasy of reality, formed of our mind, fades away, revealing that the delicate dream that is all that remains.  Reality mocks us, taunting our hope for magic, our longing for some reason to explain wistful wonderings.

Yet somehow many of us hold onto fate.  No longer a likelihood, not even a real probability, but a mere…

A mere…

I cannot grant it a title.  I shall not force any subjective restrictions, created by our language, upon it.  And I will not let go of it.  This empty dream that can seem to have less then no logical reality remains in the recesses of my mind: fully recognized as nonsense, but not dismissed.  It is a fool’s fantasy with no hope of defying the reality in which I live, unless, or course, it does.

Or is that only a coincidence?

Hello friends,

This entry is a call for applause for Bruce Candlish, my father.  Last weekend he and I went backpacking: me for the first time, him for the first time in decades.  I could sense, and he admitted to some trepidation about the journey: would his much older body be able to handle the stress of the hike.  He allowed himself to try this trip because he knew it was something I deeply wanted, and he was correct.  So, on Friday, August 3^rd, we left.  Unfortunately we arrived too late to begin our journey that day, so we were sent to a nearby camp ground to rest for the evening (another story lies in that experience, which I may relate one day soon), and we began on Saturday afternoon.

It was a hard journey: we scaled cliffs; marched up hills, then down, then up again; protected our food from bears (not directly – no fighting bears – but through our preparation with a bear-bag); saw a strange creature climb a tree not fifty yards from us (maybe a badger, maybe a raccoon, may be a dinosaur – we don’t know); saw only five other people in 24 hours (and briefly); and more, all while carrying 30 – 40 pound bags on our backs.  My father felt the ware, probably more then me, which can be expected, but what I find exceptional, inspiring, and motivating is his determination to press on: to let the mind persevere over the body.

I learned much this weekend from traveling with my father.  I learned about the power of fear and how it might restrict our actions, and I learned about the power of will to overcome that fear.  Many of you may have seen my interpretation of my father’s story about his bicycle trip, An Unmarked Path.  Watching him this past weekend has allowed me to appreciate his determination in a new way.  I also saw how, as in the story Jack and the Robbers, with the right mindset, a creature (person) can do nearly anything they need/want to do, regardless of their age.

And that is why my father deserves a standing ovation: for his determination and for teaching me through his example.

Thank you dad!

At: Bloomsburg Public Library

Lethan will be sharing tales with his youthful friends at his home library.  Lethan will be sharing some classic tales that he will tell for the first time as well as some tales we’ve heard before.