In Polylogues, the audience is watching me, and specifically me trying to listen. You’re watching that effort.
the art that really connects to me is about the little tiny very specific pieces of life, always needing to retie your shoelace, the way your kid wipes his tears away with his palms, the way someone’s hair looked under a neon sign, the oddly beautiful mold encasing a dead bug at the bottom of a puddle on a mountain
I’ve found it terrifying at times, and surprised about how different it has felt for me. But it’s brought a deeper sort of pleasure, not least of which is that I am so proud of what we’re doing.
I like to provoke an internal movement in the audience, something where their inner life or fantasy is activated.
Yeah we’ve done microphones.
Life is triggering. I am triggered constantly. You either choose to run away from that reality, be victimized by it, or lean into it by accepting the truth of your own experience.
Nowadays I’m less interested in causing maybe a huge stir or making something achingly beautiful on the whole. Now it’s more like: take a sizable hunk out of the corner somewhere and maddeningly chew.
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.
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?
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.
What’s the relationship between joy and the various vibes and qualities of my identity? In my life, joy is so damn important; I’m rounding out year #2 living in NYC after moving from the Midwest and re-getting to know myself while finding and building community which couldn’t be possible without joy.
MADONNA col BAMBINO is written by Sarah Einspanier, composed by Deepali Gupta, directed and developed by Caitlin Sullivan. Structured like a speculative science fiction mass, the play is trippy, eerily precise, weirdly reverential, profoundly moving and deeply funny. It runs July 18th through July 21st at