It is an honor to receive the 2025 Zelda Fichandler Award, and I’ve been sitting with what that recognition really means to me.
Awards can sometimes feel like spotlights—brief flashes of visibility that don’t always capture the long arc of a life in the theater. What moves me about this one is that it feels less like a spotlight and more like a witness. A recognition not of a single production or moment, but of a way of working over time.
This is the quote I shared in the press release:
“This award affirms decades of deepening roots and focusing on the work rather than chasing visibility. Being recognized by my peers in Zelda Fichandler’s name honors the artistic worlds I’ve helped shape across regional theater—and fuels my commitment to many more decades of collaboration and collective genius.”
I’ve spent my career building work through relationships—across cities, across communities, across difference. I believe deeply in regional theater, in collaboration, and in the idea that the most powerful art is made when people show up for each other over time. Being recognized by my peers, especially in the name of someone who believed so fiercely in bold artists and brave institutions, means more to me than I can easily say.
This honor isn’t just about me. It belongs to the artists I’ve worked alongside, the rooms we’ve built together, and the collective risk-taking that makes theater feel alive and necessary. It reminds me why I do this work—and why I want to keep doing it.