I will miss you, Andre. Bryan left me a voicemail while I was in the gym. When I got out of my training session I saw his VM and a text that warned me about 'bad news.' My heart sank. I knew. I showered, changed, and thought about how I knew. When was the last time I had talked to Andre, I tired to think of heartfelt memories. I dragged myself up the stairs. I knew I knew I knew. I called Bryan. He confirmed my fears and intuition. Andre Lancaster passed away this weekend.
Over ten years ago, an ART/NY program director asked me if I could start up a group for emerging black playwrights. Being creative, I called the group 'Emerging Black Playwrights." Andre was at the first meeting. So was Thomas Bradshaw. We organized the group to present our wares to the public. Andre helped with the management and I ran the meetings by the seat of my pants. He organized while writing and directing his own work. After our final workshop presentation to a room of artistic directors, Andre said this was a good idea and that he wanted to do it again. A year or two later he started up Freedom Train Productions, a Black LGBTQ theatre company in Brooklyn. I came on as the director of play development, a title I christened myself, with Andre's permission.
Over the next few years, we worked together to build a theatre company. I wrote grants with Andre, ran the workshops for playwrights with Andre, participated in panel discussion, begged for money, experienced many up's and downs. Finally, he said that there didn't seem to be a financial market for Freedom Train. We were flat broke and staring into the abyss. FTP had just lost out on another grant, this time a HUGE funding opp for Black LGBTQ playwrights. The money went to a much larger white theatre company that had no history of working with Black playwrights, but decided to use the money -a year's worth of funding for us- to hold an extravagant workshop in upstate NY. Andre said he needed to move on, get a better education, and then return to the theatre fight. He never did.
Time passed. We moved into different circles. I would see him once every year, and then once every 12-18 months, and then nothing the last few years. He sent me a msg on WHATSAPP several months ago. I was perplexed b/c he had my email, phone number, knew where I lived. The msg was a simple 'hello.' I responded back 'hello' and asked him about life and how things were going. I never heard back. Rest in Peace, Andre. You were and will always be a Black Prince.
Over ten years ago, an ART/NY program director asked me if I could start up a group for emerging black playwrights. Being creative, I called the group 'Emerging Black Playwrights." Andre was at the first meeting. So was Thomas Bradshaw. We organized the group to present our wares to the public. Andre helped with the management and I ran the meetings by the seat of my pants. He organized while writing and directing his own work. After our final workshop presentation to a room of artistic directors, Andre said this was a good idea and that he wanted to do it again. A year or two later he started up Freedom Train Productions, a Black LGBTQ theatre company in Brooklyn. I came on as the director of play development, a title I christened myself, with Andre's permission.
Over the next few years, we worked together to build a theatre company. I wrote grants with Andre, ran the workshops for playwrights with Andre, participated in panel discussion, begged for money, experienced many up's and downs. Finally, he said that there didn't seem to be a financial market for Freedom Train. We were flat broke and staring into the abyss. FTP had just lost out on another grant, this time a HUGE funding opp for Black LGBTQ playwrights. The money went to a much larger white theatre company that had no history of working with Black playwrights, but decided to use the money -a year's worth of funding for us- to hold an extravagant workshop in upstate NY. Andre said he needed to move on, get a better education, and then return to the theatre fight. He never did.
Time passed. We moved into different circles. I would see him once every year, and then once every 12-18 months, and then nothing the last few years. He sent me a msg on WHATSAPP several months ago. I was perplexed b/c he had my email, phone number, knew where I lived. The msg was a simple 'hello.' I responded back 'hello' and asked him about life and how things were going. I never heard back. Rest in Peace, Andre. You were and will always be a Black Prince.
1 comment:
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