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 […]
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. […]
Lengua materna / Mother tongue
I do not imagine a theater, because I live theater, breathe it in and out; I dream it. But, if I had to imagine a theater, then I'd like to imagine that the languages that have been forgotten, which are still spoken in many parts of the world, would be part of this new playwriting.
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.
ingat (to take care)
that moment before something is about to happen where anything is still possible in between this is where you are stuck
Dear Joan
A theatre foyer. Night. It is empty. The doors are locked. But if there were a woman there...
Pneuma: Queer Telling
Dangling in mid-air like a thrust-out tongue, an oval-shaped rocky surface extends from the mouth of a cave to form a rough-hewn apron stage in the middle of a mountain.