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?
This testing, naming, retreating, reframing; lifting to the light the grays and yellows and beiges and browns of inner worlds – is often the dance of the play.
Kafka’s: A Hunger Artist is, at its core, a show about a man whose only job–his life’s work–is to starve. However, I couldn’t help but see this starving man as a metaphor for so much more. It is simple and yet so profound. As an
I’m always starving. First of all, I’m kind of a lush: always spending my hard-earned artist salary on good wine and some dope new trendy neighborhood Ramen or whatever. But also as a contemporary theater maker, I’m famished. Famished for people to see my work,