Caution - Heart of the Beast Near

From "Theatre of Wonder: 25 Years in the Heart of the Beast"

Front cover of "Theatre of Wonder: 25 Years in the Heart of the Beast" edited by Colleen J. Sheehy and published by the University of Minnesota Press, 1999. The image is a detail from a huge parade puppet designed by Beth Peterson for May Day 1995. Photograph by Gayla Ellis.

In 1996 I was asked to testify before the Minneapolis City Council on behalf of In the Heart of the Beast Puppet and Mask Theatre and its effort to secure funds for its building on Lake Street. It was one of the great honors of my life. Writing for this book that will celebrate In the Heart of the Beast's twenty-five years of performing comes with this profound sense of honor once again. Nothing I write will give any approximation of the wonder you feel when an In the Heart of the Beast troupe is let loose on a hillside, a street, a classroom, or a darkened theatre. But I am going to try because how often can anyone say I was invited to speak on behalf of something unequivocally good for the human soul"?

In order to grow into stronger people, we often borrow courage from one another, and In the Heart of the Beast has loaned our city more than its fair share. For twenty-five years this theatre has called our attention to social issues, environmental threats, and historical accounts gone wrong, consistently showing us the way to higher ground. Its members have taught us without lecturing, without didactic arguments, and without resorting to the easy dramatics of hopelessness. And after all these years, they have left us clamoring for more, even paying to be taught yet again. How have they done this?

They have done it through their astonishing sense of delight in the world and their ability to transform objects. They can make us see a hand as if for the first time, and then they can make that hand become a bird and that bird become an angel and that angel become so gigantic that her wings seem to spread out over your seat and sweep you into the show. They can even make skeletons dance in the dark of a theatre on one day and make the sun rise over a lake in a city park the next. Their courage and trust in the power of transformation are contagious. Watching them, we feel like we also can transform.

Over and over In the Heart of the Beast has made us realize that if it can do this with cardboard and fabric, we can do it with the everyday material of our lives. It helps us discover that hopes buried deeply in our hearts are, maybe-yes-they may be possible. We find ourselves saying, "Yes, yes, yes," when just yesterday we were saying, "It will cost too much." "What could I possibly do to help?" "No, not today." "YES," we nod as we walk out of the theatre.

In a world filled with opportunities to disconnect from our senses, these performances momentarily connect our eyes, our ears, our hearts, and our hands to our hopes. If people experience enough connections like these, they become everyday visionaries, making their lives creative and full of hope. Because In the Heart of the Beast is here, our city's population of everyday visionaries grows with each performance.

Last fall my nine-year-old daughter went with me to see Web Sight, a Heart of the Beast staging of three stories about young people who changed their small comers of the world through their work with food, violence awareness, and labor laws. My daughter came home from the theatre and immediately picked up the telephone. She organized her own food drive with her friends, collecting nearly four hundred cans in two weeks, all carried home in a small red wagon. They delivered this mound of food to the local food shelf and had their first tour of life "without." Next, my daughter wrote to President Clinton and, with shaky spelling, asked him to "do what you can" to strengthen child-labor laws around the world. (The food drive, she swears, will be an annual project. YES. The president's answer sounded a bit staged, and she questioned his resolve. She will write him again, she says. YES.)

All of this for the price of a theatre ticket! That is the kind of transformation In the Heart of the Beast has been giving us year after year. The theatre's commitment to a particular street in a particular neighborhood in a midwestern city in a farm region should not be mistaken as having less than national stature. I have seen this company transform audiences in New York City and in tiny Oregon towns. I have watched a trail of outstanding awards and reviews follow its performances, whether they be on wet grassy fields or in big city hotels with valet parking. But no matter where the theatre travels, it is never gone long, because it is a street theatre that belongs to a particular street. Our street.

In 1996 I ended my Minneapolis City Council testimony with the following:

I worked in In the Heart of the Beast's theatre on Lake Street for months on end as we built the play On the Day You Were Born. I can tell you that they are a lighthouse on a street in need of light, and they have no plans to move to the suburbs—they understand what large thing is at stake in their small spot on Lake Street. This is exactly where I'd like to see my tax dollars spent.

And do you know, our city agreed, once again, to help support this theatre. That is real transformation: human beings voting dollars and cents for heart and soul. It is enough to make you proud of who we can be. Yes. Transformed once again.

Note: Following the many presentations on behalf of in the Heart of the Beast, the Minneapolis City Council awarded the theatre its requested federal block grant funds and went on to renew funding for renovations and acquisition the following year.

Debra Frasier is an author, artist, and insightful philosopher. Her best-selling children's book On the Day You Were Born features her poetic words and paper-cut images. She worked with In the Heart of the Beast to transform that book into one of its main-stage productions in 1991. 

Original CAN/API publication: April 2000