Brian Eugenio Herrera

Lights up on a bare stage enveloped in a heart-shaped frame. Five trans girls over the age of 40 enter holding hands and flirting under bright light.

I hope you will forgive my using you. This trip we have no compass, but our ship, driven by Providence or stress of weather, needs some constellation to point us home.

The extravagance of these small fragments and minor aesthetic details are not wasteful, but beautiful. Think trans girl with diminutive ambition, sufficient amuse-bouche, endless caress, depressive, but comfortable, reparative when she leaks a little, and juvenile with a crush.

What might be revealed about casting's force as concatenated act of performance, of interpretation, and of power?