Outdoor Performance Quotes

'Sister Act' was my first audition out of school. I was 21 and cast as the understudy. It was non-Equity, so I lived in L.A. on $300 a week. I did that for a month and then came to New York to do a couple of gigs, including 'Hair' in the park, before going to London with 'Sister Act,' where I played the lead.

Shakespeare in the Park is one of the greatest gifts in New York City. You just have to wait for the tickets - and it's worth the wait.

Lollapalooza, that was one of my worst shows. We just played at, like, 3 in the afternoon; it was like the hottest, most miserable thing. My shoes were melting. I just thought I was going to die. It was the most horrible experience. I lasted, what, four songs? In front of quite a lot of people. That was one of my least favorites.

We should return to the Greeks, play in the open air: the drama dies of stalls and boxes and evening dress, and people who come to digest their dinner.

Performing outside is always kind of strange. Usually, you can't hear something, whether it's your voice or instrument, but it's a fun challenge.

I stand on the corner, pretending I am a tree.

I love performing outside because it's as if the heavens are open and the elements become part of the stage show as well - you know, the wind and the rain and the thunder. It's almost as if there's a sense of invocation in performance.

He used to have a tent show, a little tent show, and I thought I was going to get a job working one year on the tent show, but he closed it down and I never got to go out there, but anyway, he had a sax and played drums.

Starting in my teens, I was always standing on the corner near our apartment singing harmony with friends. We'd also go to the park and sing under the bridge near the lake for the echo. When it was cold out, we'd stand in the little heated lobby in the project's administration building, where my mom paid the rent each month.

When I perform outside, the major problem that could arise is strong wind.I spend months preparing for the types of wind that occur in different locations.

My standing gig in college was playing the El Chico patio on Murfreesboro Road. I got $100, tips, and free quesadillas.

I was in a sketch group in L.A., and we were playing, like, backyards in Glendale and stuff. It was pretty ugly because we didn't have any money.

To save the theatre, the theatre must be destroyed, the actors and actresses must all die of the plague. They poison the air, they make art impossible. It is not drama that they play, but pieces for the theatre. We should return to the Greeks, play in the open air; the drama dies of stalls and boxes and evening dress, and people who come to digest their dinner.

Working outdoors in the Delacorte Theater is always challenging.

At Columbus Circle, a juggler wearing a trench cloak and top hat, who is usually at this location afternoons and who calls himself Stretch Man, performs in front of a small, uninterested crowd; though I smell prey, and he seems worthy of my wrath, I move on in search of a less dorky target. Though if he'd been a mime, odds are he'd already be dead.

What's the point of doing a brilliant Hedda Gabler in my back garden if no one will ever see it?

I gravitated toward stand-up because there's no overhead. I mean, literally, there's no overhead: Often, you're outdoors performing in front of groups of people.

I did an open air gig in Regent's Park and that's an incredible venue because the sun sort of sets while you're on stage and you can see the audience so brightly.

I know I can go outside and have better numbers than I put up in the slot.

It's real difficult to sing out in the elements at 2 in the morning in 35-degree weather while you're dancing in a sleeveless chiffon dress.

Sometimes I would bring some of my music to the school and perform on the playground, and they'd think, "There goes Patrick, trying to entertain everyone as usual."

I think there's something about a sylvan setting; you want grass and nature with outdoor Shakespeare.

Everything about singing, I learned from busking. Everything I learned about songwriting, I learned from busking. Busking, you learn people, you learn about reading people. You learn about reading the atmosphere of the street. If you stand still in any city long enough, you see everyone pass you by. It's almost like you get to know personality types, just by watching people walk past. You get a sense for things.

We were always a party band and we used to play outside a lot.

I'm very happy in my 18th century worker's cottage in Kent and playing my music for the dog-walkers paused outside.