Worstward Ho
The father and his child plod somehow on past Croker’s Acres, down the fields and lanes.
Archives
Nobody Sees Hamlet
The audience files into the theater. Lights fade out, chatting subsides. Lights up. a figure enters from stage left. They […]
Crankie
The audience waits in dim light. They hear the sound of paper fluttering, sliding, and crinkling, before they see […]
Remembered Theatres
The remembered theatre used to be, and could be again, made of a simple composition. It begins with a worn […]
Cubist Theater
I want to explore Cubist theater with the dramatic voice. Speaking history of the north and west. Working […]
Goodbye… a note from a country that no longer exists
There is a garden in front of house. Is there a garden in front of house? Yes, there is. […]
the theatre that I do not wish to imagine but wish to have
The theatre that must exist is ugly and unsatisfying, much of the time. It is defined by failed efforts and a bizarre-bordering-on-pathological determination to return to the scene of the crime (in this scenario, artists are the criminals; art is the bullet; guess who the victims are?).
performance score built with undated performance notes
sharing rhythm creates a political question about who determines rhythm and when trio in unison, with the possibility of becoming either backup dancers or soloists open-ended and absurdist and nonsensical shame as part of gaze
feast
It is raw, it is real, it is happening with you in the room and can only be experienced in the “here and now.” It is open to a multiplicity of heres and nows depending on the realities, perceptions, localities... of those present.
Dear Joan
A theatre foyer. Night. It is empty. The doors are locked. But if there were a woman there...