Sad clowns, hobo clowns, birthday party clowns, crust-punk clowns, burning man hula hoopers dressed like clowns…juggalos! I don’t consider myself any of them.
Their movement allows them to take up all the space, filling the stage all the way to the frame.
What, for the theater, are our tablecloths, forks, spoons, plates and bowls that maybe aren’t actually serving us anymore? Is how we are making theater and performance the best way it could exist, or is there a better version?
We share our sweat, our humidity, our heat. We weather it, as Kelly does inside the box.
I grew up in a yellow house in West Seneca, NY, a suburb of Buffalo. My bedroom window was on the second floor in between the windows of my sisters, though I am the youngest, with a huge maple tree in front of it that made me feel like I lived in a treehouse.