Marena: Theatre has always been a huge part of my life. I was born in Park Slope, Brooklyn, where my parents were both involved in theatre. My parents met when my mother auditioned for a Broadway show, in which my father was a cast member and fight coordinator. My father actually did some work with David Brimmer, who now teaches stage combat at the Terry Knickerbocker Studio.

While growing up in New York, I performed in shows in elementary school and middle school. When my family moved to Hawaii, when I was 13 years old, I missed the sense of belonging to a community built around theatre, so I co-founded the Waimea Community Teen Theatre Troupe (WCTTT) with my dear friend Becca Barrett. Our first show was “Rent,” and our production raised $3,000 for the Hawaii AIDS Foundation. That success led to future shows, and the troupe has now evolved into the Kahilu Theatre Youth Troupe, which still exists today.

That same year, 2010, I started the Keiki Performing Arts Workshop, a two-week, summer, musical theatre, day camp for local elementary school students. It, too, continues to thrive, now as the Kahilu Performing Arts Workshop. Some of the original students have even become counselors.

Marena: I studied theatre at Muhlenberg College with a double concentration in directing and performance studies. While there, I became fascinated by the potential of theatre to improve social conditions. I became involved in something called the “Youth and Prejudice: Reducing Hatred” conference, which took place on campus twice a year – for local middle-schoolers in the fall and high schoolers in the spring, about 500 students each session.

Each conference involves the production of a TYA (Theatre for Young Audiences) play, a talkback with actors and the creative team, and then discussions held in breakout rooms across the campus with student facilitators. The discussions involve both the actors and the audience members and focus on how to be an “upstander, not a bystander.”  

I started by performing in the play, then directed productions, and later managed the entire conference. I became the first student to run the conference and was honored with the Jeanette Eichenwald Interfaith Award.

In the course of that, I discovered my passion for applied theatre and went on to earn a master’s degree in Applied Theatre: Drama in Educational, Social, and Community Contexts at Goldsmiths, University of London. There I worked with vulnerable young people, using theater to address social change and support mental health.

I then moved to Paris for two years, living as an au pair and doing freelance applied theatre work, before accepting a position with Teach for America as the inaugural drama teacher at a new school in San Antonio. From there I was recruited by Uncommon Schools, a charter school system in New York City, where I became director of performing arts while directing five shows a year.

Marena: I’m passionate about theatre education at all levels and am fascinated by its ability to cultivate authentic human connections and foster community. As soon as I talked with Terry Knickerbocker, I knew that I belonged at the Terry Knickerbocker Studio.

A core focus of Terry’s is the human experience that is part of acting. The Terry Knickerbocker Studio is training people to become the best actors they can be. Essential to that training is the creation of a community in which students can thrive – in which they can allow themselves to be vulnerable and feel supported by one another. That sense of community is an extension of applied theatre. Students find themselves often through the process.

Marena: After a two-hour conversation with Terry, he invited me to the Studio to meet with Chris Booth, Justin Cimino, and Kevin Kong. The sense of community is conveyed immediately upon entering the Studio. Even before you meet anyone, the Studio space exudes it. There’s a vibe, a feeling that’s powerful and hard to understand until you’re here.

It’s such a beautiful space and so carefully curated with its bright-orange color scheme, serene fountains, and small, yet intentional, design elements that contribute to feeling simultaneously at peace and inspired. It’s clear that a lot of love went into creating it. As you enter, you first see a gorgeous, wooden, community table that Terry had specially built for the Studio. It welcomes you and encourages students to sit and eat together. What’s most striking to me is that students often bring food for themselves and for others to join them at the table.

A lot of school settings are sterile, but the Terry Knickerbocker Studio is the opposite. It’s welcoming from the outset. That sense of community is then further conveyed by a pervasive culture of respect and appreciation for everyone. That culture extends to every classroom, every faculty and staff member, and every student.

That’s crucial, because the work of actor training is emotionally charged. It’s demanding; it explores the depths of our being; it requires vulnerability. Knowing that you are accepted and supported by a community of fellow actors significantly enhances the training experience and builds confidence in a way that is everlasting.

It’s one of the attributes that distinguishes the Terry Knickerbocker Studio. It’s a key reason why the Studio’s approach to actor training is so vibrant, compelling, inclusive, and impactful. 

At the Terry Knickerbocker Studio, beyond the tight-knit community you’re welcomed into, you receive honest, gimmick-free training that genuinely prepares you for a lifelong journey as a confident actor. As the Studio Manager, witnessing the impact on our students is incredibly fulfilling. Many initially join us with wavering confidence, questioning their path in this industry. Yet under the guidance of Terry Knickerbocker, Celestine Rae, and the rest of the inspiring faculty, a remarkable metamorphosis occurs. Students begin to radiate confidence, born not from pretense but from a profound grasp of the craft. Students here train like athletes, and the results are consistent. This authentic transformation is what sets apart the training experience at the Terry Knickerbocker Studio, and I am honored to play a role in fostering it. 

Shelley: One of my life lessons is: When in doubt, buy a plane ticket. I was in doubt in 1981. As an actress, I had received a rave review in The New York Times for my performance in “Dynamo” by Eugene O’Neill at the Impossible Ragtime Theater. But I had a new agent, whom I didn’t like, and my mother had recently died.

I went to Bali, because it is the island of the gods and they have no word for artist, as everyone is an artist. While I was there, I was referred by a friend to Idi Bagus Anom, a Balinese mask- maker. I was looking for something, but I didn’t know what. When I saw him at work in his studio, I was transfixed. I apprenticed with him in his studio for eight weeks. I made a mask, and he made me three, and they became my teachers. I stayed as long as my visa allowed.

Shelley: While apprenticing at Anom’s studio in Bali, I met Islene Pinder, who led the Balinese American Dance Theatre on Franklin Street in New York City. When I returned to New York, I looked up Islene, who gave me space in her loft where I could work. Islene had many masks, and I performed with her company with my masks.

At the same time, Julie Taymor was directing a production of “The Taming of the Shrew” for Theatre for a New Audience. She cast me in the production, and I subsequently began working for the company as a teaching artist, which was the start of my teaching career. When I performed soon thereafter at the Capital Repertory Theatre in Albany, I was invited to be a guest teaching artist at Skidmore College, and there, in my “Intro to Acting” class, I began using masks as a teaching tool. That led to invitations to be a mask teacher at numerous settings; I taught at Bard College for 10 years. It also enabled me to study with such legendary mask teachers as Pierre LeFevre at Juilliard and Jacques LeCoq in Paris. It ultimately led me to the Terry Knickerbocker Studio, where you are literally greeted at the door by a wall filled with masks that Terry has collected, many of which were made by Idi Bagus Anom in Bali.

Shelley: I was initially attracted by the artistry of Idi Bagus Anom and the stunning beauty of his masks, but what fascinates me about masks as a performer and a teacher is their transformative nature. In a literal sense, the mask covers up the face; but its transformative power is that it frees the individual to explore different aspects of oneself.

Counter-intuitively, by covering up, you expose. You gain permission to go wherever your imagination leads you. Full-faced masks, or neutral masks, cover the entire face including the mouth, so the only sound uttered is breathing, and breath in that regard is crucially important. Character masks leave the mouth open, so you have your voice back. In both cases, the world of the mask is a very particular place that the practitioner can visit by accepting an invitation to explore.

The invitation is to be whatever your imagination allows, freeing the mask-wearer to dig deeper. In my classes, we always journal, so the exploration is accompanied by written reflections that can be explored further with the entire class.

Shelley: I knew of Terry, because at one time we were both teaching at NYU. He was teaching in the Experimental Wing, and I was teaching at the New Studio on Broadway. We also had a mutual friend in Orlando Pabotoy, who is now Head of Physical Acting at Juilliard. When Terry decided to create the Terry Knickerbocker Studio, Orlando recommended me to him. We bonded immediately over masks. How could we not have, when he had his own masks created by Idi Bagus Anom in Bali? Terry and I also share a deep commitment to exploring imagination and digging deep. That is at the heart of the Meisner technique, which Terry teaches. It is also central to teaching the mask.

Shelley: Spectacularly. I taught a class the other day where the students blew my mind with their enthusiasm and innovation. That’s what’s so wonderful about the Terry Knickerbocker Studio. I’ve taught the mask for decades, and the students at the Terry Knickerbocker Studio still inspire me with their imagination, their willingness to explore, and their readiness to dig deep. At the Terry Knickerbocker Studio, the students are curious, interesting, delightful, and hard-working. I find that conservatory students are different from college or university students, because they are there solely to study acting. They are, therefore, focused on what they are doing and very serious about the work.

Shelley: I have worn masks at the Halloween parade, but typically I help operate giant puppets. I have marched in the parade for 40 years and have been on the Board of Directors for about five years. I first became involved, because I have an apartment on 10 th Street.

I just enjoy the spectacle of it. But those who do wear masks in the parade invariably share in their transformative freedom.

Shelley: No, the production has nothing to do with masks. I’ve directed a broad range of plays throughout my career. I have an MFA in Directing from Brooklyn College, and it’s a totally different aspect of my career from the teaching of the mask. The play that I’m now directing is “God of Carnage,” written by French playwright Yasmina Reza and translated into English by Christopher Hampton. In 2009, the original London production won the Laurence Olivier Award for Best New Comedy, and the subsequent Broadway production won the Tony Award for Best Play. It’s a fabulous work that deserves to be seen again, and I’m very pleased to be able to help make it available to audiences at this time.

Shelley: The mask informs everything I do, because I look for actors to go deep in their imagination, just as I do with students of the mask. It’s that capacity to go deep that is at the core of great acting.

Shelley: One of my life lessons is: When in doubt, buy a plane ticket. I was in doubt in 1981. As an actress, I had received a rave review in The New York Times for my performance in “Dynamo” by Eugene O’Neill at the Impossible Ragtime Theater. But I had a new agent, whom I didn’t like, and my mother had recently died.

I went to Bali, because it is the island of the gods and they have no word for artist, as everyone is an artist. While I was there, I was referred by a friend to Idi Bagus Anom, a Balinese mask- maker. I was looking for something, but I didn’t know what. When I saw him at work in his studio, I was transfixed. I apprenticed with him in his studio for eight weeks. I made a mask, and he made me three, and they became my teachers. I stayed as long as my visa allowed.

Shelley: While apprenticing at Anom’s studio in Bali, I met Islene Pinder, who led the Balinese American Dance Theatre on Franklin Street in New York City. When I returned to New York, I looked up Islene, who gave me space in her loft where I could work. Islene had many masks, and I performed with her company with my masks.

At the same time, Julie Taymor was directing a production of “The Taming of the Shrew” for Theatre for a New Audience. She cast me in the production, and I subsequently began working for the company as a teaching artist, which was the start of my teaching career. When I performed soon thereafter at the Capital Repertory Theatre in Albany, I was invited to be a guest teaching artist at Skidmore College, and there, in my “Intro to Acting” class, I began using masks as a teaching tool. That led to invitations to be a mask teacher at numerous settings; I taught at Bard College for 10 years. It also enabled me to study with such legendary mask teachers as Pierre LeFevre at Juilliard and Jacques LeCoq in Paris. It ultimately led me to the Terry Knickerbocker Studio, where you are literally greeted at the door by a wall filled with masks that Terry has collected, many of which were made by Idi Bagus Anom in Bali.

Shelley: I was initially attracted by the artistry of Idi Bagus Anom and the stunning beauty of his masks, but what fascinates me about masks as a performer and a teacher is their transformative nature. In a literal sense, the mask covers up the face; but its transformative power is that it frees the individual to explore different aspects of oneself.

Counter-intuitively, by covering up, you expose. You gain permission to go wherever your imagination leads you. Full-faced masks, or neutral masks, cover the entire face including the mouth, so the only sound uttered is breathing, and breath in that regard is crucially important. Character masks leave the mouth open, so you have your voice back. In both cases, the world of the mask is a very particular place that the practitioner can visit by accepting an invitation to explore.

The invitation is to be whatever your imagination allows, freeing the mask-wearer to dig deeper. In my classes, we always journal, so the exploration is accompanied by written reflections that can be explored further with the entire class.

Shelley: I knew of Terry, because at one time we were both teaching at NYU. He was teaching in the Experimental Wing, and I was teaching at the New Studio on Broadway. We also had a mutual friend in Orlando Pabotoy, who is now Head of Physical Acting at Juilliard. When Terry decided to create the Terry Knickerbocker Studio, Orlando recommended me to him. We bonded immediately over masks. How could we not have, when he had his own masks created by Idi Bagus Anom in Bali? Terry and I also share a deep commitment to exploring imagination and digging deep. That is at the heart of the Meisner technique, which Terry teaches. It is also central to teaching the mask.

Shelley: Spectacularly. I taught a class the other day where the students blew my mind with their enthusiasm and innovation. That’s what’s so wonderful about the Terry Knickerbocker Studio. I’ve taught the mask for decades, and the students at the Terry Knickerbocker Studio still inspire me with their imagination, their willingness to explore, and their readiness to dig deep. At the Terry Knickerbocker Studio, the students are curious, interesting, delightful, and hard-working. I find that conservatory students are different from college or university students, because they are there solely to study acting. They are, therefore, focused on what they are doing and very serious about the work.

Shelley: I have worn masks at the Halloween parade, but typically I help operate giant puppets. I have marched in the parade for 40 years and have been on the Board of Directors for about five years. I first became involved, because I have an apartment on 10 th Street.

I just enjoy the spectacle of it. But those who do wear masks in the parade invariably share in their transformative freedom.

Shelley: No, the production has nothing to do with masks. I’ve directed a broad range of plays throughout my career. I have an MFA in Directing from Brooklyn College, and it’s a totally different aspect of my career from the teaching of the mask. The play that I’m now directing is “God of Carnage,” written by French playwright Yasmina Reza and translated into English by Christopher Hampton. In 2009, the original London production won the Laurence Olivier Award for Best New Comedy, and the subsequent Broadway production won the Tony Award for Best Play. It’s a fabulous work that deserves to be seen again, and I’m very pleased to be able to help make it available to audiences at this time.

Shelley: The mask informs everything I do, because I look for actors to go deep in their imagination, just as I do with students of the mask. It’s that capacity to go deep that is at the core of great acting.