Look Harder.

Michael Kaiser, President of the Kennedy Center, has written a very provocative blog entitled, What Is Wrong With The Arts? on The Huffington Post. In it, he asserts that there aren't as many great artists in the "classical arts" as there were when he was a young man in the 50's and 60's.

It is really good.

Despite having a problem with the separation of "classical" and "popular" arts, and not really gelling with some of his examples of "great" artists, I think he's dead on. The arts are run by people who are overly cautious, myopic, and obsessed with the past. I'm also glad to see somebody of his status say out loud that a new generation of artists should be given a chance. Obviously, I agree.

Here's the thing. I think he doesn't go far enough. I'm glad that people have been discussing the dearth of opportunity for women artists and artists of color. It's an important conversation to have. In doing so, however, we've managed to ignore the 800 pound gorilla in the room.

Class.

I can feel the collective eyes of some of my Youngblood brethren rolling. I know, I know... I bring it up a lot, but only because it warrants discussion. And, yes, I know people don't want to discuss it. It makes people uncomfortable to discuss privilege, especially when they benefit from it.

I'm going to use playwriting as an example, because this is the world I know. In fact, let's look at Youngblood. How many members of Youngblood come from a family with a total income of, say, less than six figures? I'm guessing not many. But not all privilege is directly about money. How many people in Youngblood hold an MFA? How many people in Youngblood attended an Ivy League school for undergrad or grad school? A lot. How many writers in Youngblood grew up in rural America? The inner city? Not many, right?

Here's the thing: Youngblood is pretty fucking inclusive for the theater world, and I don't mean to call it out. Its fucking awesome. That's why I use it as an example: except for that whole under thirty thing, it's doing better than most theater organizations. Look at some of the other groups and you'll see a much, much narrower pool of talent. So what you get is a whole lot of plays about privilege written by people from privilege. How did this happen?

Gatekeepers.

These are the Artistic Directors and Literary Managers. These are the people who run writers' groups and fellowships and prizes etc. These people really, really hate talking about class because they usually came from privilege, but also because it makes their job easier if they can just give X opportunity to a recent MFA instead of schlepping to the fringe theaters.

The reason that Kaiser doesn't see any great artists is that he's looking at it from the top down. If he could see the situation from the bottom up it would be obvious to him. Admit it: we all see the writers that are winning these opportunities and it's always the same people from the same narrow pool of croney-ism and credential-ism. There are no great theater artists because the gatekeepers either aren't finding them, or worse (and I hope this isn't the case, I really do) aren't even looking for them.

The next great playwrights aren't necessarily in Yale's MFA program right now. Sure, they might be. But you know what else? They're just as likely to be self-producing a play at The Brick. Or at Dixon Place. Or not even in New York at all.

I know this is a bit of a rant, and I'm sorry. Let me clarify: this is not a rant against the Ivy league or MFAs. Nor is it a rant against people with money. It is also not meant as an opportunity for playwrights to discuss their own backgrounds in the comments section. That's not helpful. I know that this class problem runs across many industries, but I love the theater and I expect more from it than I do the banking industry. This is merely a shout out to the gatekeepers running institutions, awards, grants, writing groups etc.

Dear gatekeepers. If you think there are no great artists working today, then look in new directions. Discover new channels. LOOK. FUCKING. HARDER.

Rant over.

What's Premature and Brilliant on Broadway

Today, in the New York Times, Ben Brantley reviewed Spider-Man Turn Off the Dark because he wasn't sure if it would be eternally postponed. Though I am hoping Spiderman closes so no one else is injured or killed (on stage or in the audience), I thought it was unfair of him to give the review during previews. Perhaps he could have reviewed the preview as a preview and promised us another review when the show actually opened (if it ever does.) Though again, I would like Spiderman to close, I think the point of postponing its opening was to give it a chance to make it a better show for a better review. As a playwright, I would be a little upset if a critic decided to come to the previews of my play because he was feeling impatient and afraid he would never get a chance to see my show.

However, if a critic crashed previews for my broadway play because he could not wait to see it, that actually might be one of the better days of my life.

Enough about the perfunctory nature of Broadway and its critics.

Broadway has just done something really brilliant; the powers that be have finally trusted us to drink in the theatre.

In early December, I was given tickets to see American Idiot at The St. James Theatre on West 44th st. I was trying to keep an open mind about a rock musical and had heard pretty good things, but I wouldn't say I was really looking forward to seeing what I thought would be a fair version of Rent meets Jersey Boys - so I headed straight to the bar.

I knew I would be overcharged but since I had gotten the tickets free (thanks to the fantastic Theatre teacher, Scott Paynter at the Westerville Central High School in Westerville, OH), I thought, why not? Since I knew I wouldn't be able to take my beer into the theatre, I made sure I had enough time to chug a bottle of Bud Light before the curtain went up.

But that's when everything changed. I didn't see any bottles or even glasses at the bar. What I saw instead were...sippy cups! No, they weren't letting babies drink at the bar, the sippy cups were for us, the adult audience members! Everyone was getting their alcohol delivered to them in a sippy cup - to take into the theatre! And to keep!

In many of our Youngblood meetings, we discuss how the theatre going experience could be much improved by allowing audiences to eat and drink during the show - causing further merriment as we entertain. PLUG - YOUNGBLOOD BRUNCHES.

And Broadway has wised up. Thank you, St. James Theatre, for trusting us to imbibe during American Idiot (without spilling on ourselves or on your seats.) Thank you St. James Theatre, for letting us have a better time. Thank you St. James Theatre for the souvenir. Speaking of souvenirs, what a great way to get even more of our money! I was charged not only for my Bud Light - but also the cup - I believe it came out to about $14. Imagine if the cup said "American Idiot", you could charge us even more! And then when my friends came over and I served them a beverage in my American Idiot cup, I would be advertising for you for free.

So Broadway and Off-Broadway, learn from the St. James (and the theatres across the world like The Abbey in Dublin which allows you to bring your drink inside the theatre), we love to drink during the show and some of us will throw down a little more cash to do so.

Making theatre and concessions cheaper to foster the future audiences of American theatre is a whole nother blog.

Also Broadway (American Idiot, specifically), Director plus Lyricist does not equal Book Writer. And while both Michael Mayer and Billie Joe Armstrong are very talented individuals, this show could have been very strong with a stronger story. If you're looking for book writers in the future, Youngblood playwrights are ready, willing, and able.

Everybody Is A Critic

An older gentleman poked his head into the office before The Sluts of Sutton Drive to ask, "Would you mind turning the music down in there? It's terribly loud." We also had a few walkouts with each performance. As I predicted, the show was a little divisive. I kept telling myself that it's okay for people to dislike a comedy with strip teases, eye gauging, dismembered penises, and bombs going off. Mostly people were really into it, but it was also kind of hysterical when they weren't.

Overheard in the EST Lobby:

"There's a SECOND act? How can we be expected to sit through that?"

"It's derivative and immature, but at least the actors are okay."

"That playwright must've been on Kablammo."

"Awful, awful, awful."

What can I say? I wrote a play that was punk as fuck, and my whole cast and crew were incredibly bold and wonderful. I'm eternally grateful to them and I'm also grateful to my adventurous audiences who took in the show with such great spirit. Even the ones who hated it.

Here's a video of Jem and the Holograms covering Le Tigre. Enjoy.

An Evening of Short Plays and Music at Death by Audio

The year was 2003. America was about to engage in another war abroad, and still grappling with the paranoia of terrorism. It was a time when white people were still president, it was a time of fear, a time of uncertainty. And somewhere in upstate New York, in the alley between a strip mall and a McDonalds, an adolescent was vomiting from malt liquor at a rock show.

Club Culture. The crescent jewel of the Orange County, NY rock scene. Kids from all around the county would pile out of dad's jeep, or out of their friend's red volvo after smoking their first joint to come together to perform and listen to music, both good, and in hindsight, well, not so good. It was what most kids did on the weekends, climbing the abandoned movie theater next door or looking bad ass smoking a cigarette between bands. An older man, we''ll call him Bernie, he seemed like a Bernie, watched over the enterprise with a grizzled smile of satisfaction. Like a papa bear, watching over his under age cubs while they made out and got glitter and black eyeliner all over each other. Bernie, a creepy, papa bear ran this place where both 40 year-olds in black leather pants with spikes playing death metal and 13 year-olds playing Blink 182 covers could come together and have some fun.

It was around this time I had a band of my own where I was the singer, or well, screamer. We played raucous hardcore songs, whom some of our influences I'm less than proud to admit today. At the same time, I was taking acting classes, writing plays, and in the high school drama club. The same month my band formed I had my first leading role- Wilbur the Pig in Charlotte's Web. That adorable little piglet who befriends that spider was out on the weekends screaming out all his angsty teenage woes. There was a certain contradiction between my life in theater and my life in music that was bothersome. Something about those nights at Club Culture I wished were present when I was dressed as a pig on stage (Okay, maybe not that time specifically).

If you're reading this, chances are you don't think twice about seeing a play. But you probably have some close friends who maybe see 1-2 plays a year, if that. I recently found out a close friend of mine had never seen a play in his entire life (you just got called out, James Meehan). I bet those same friends go to concerts on a regular basis though, and would totally see a play if they knew where to go, what to see, and had the money to do it. It's a sad fact, which I have to assume the theatre world knows. That there is a huge untapped audience in this city that for whatever reason they aren't reaching.

Well why not just go to them?

The past few years the Brooklyn music scene has exploded with underground, do-it-yourself venues run out of lofts, old grocery stores, a fucking party supply store, whatever. While there are theatre artists who do plenty of similar work, for whatever reason it hasn't caught on at the national level so many of these venues and the artists who play at them have. These are often run by young people who are not making much from it, and promote an all ages, all inclusive feel that harkens back to those days growing up. It takes away the bullshit. I think we need to take away the bullshit.

I've put together a show at one of these spaces, Death by Audio in Williamsburg, that puts three short plays by Youngblood writers in front of four up and coming local bands. It's going to be an experiment for sure. We're stripping away some of the formalities of theatre, and asking something of both our theatre audience and our music audience. For all the concerns we've had about putting this together, at the end of the day we're all just people in a room getting together to have fun and forget about our lives for a few hours.

Of course, no art world is perfect. The Brooklyn music scene touts inclusiveness, yet can turn its back on artists after a bad blog review. There's also a culture associated with it that's made Williamsburg and hipsters the butt of more than a few jokes. And even considering the exclusiveness most Broadway and Off Broadway theatre has, there's something irreplaceable about being locked in a room to watch drama (even if it is with people only over the age of 55). It's time for both worlds to become more creative and more inclusive with who their audiences are what kind of work their doing, and this is a tiny step in that direction.

If you're free Thursday night, swing by Death by Audio for some plays, some bands, and some cheap booze all for 7 bucks. It'll be like how I imagine The Globe Theatre was back in the day when ol' Bill Shakespeare had all the drunks down in front standing and throwing beer bottles at the men in dresses. And unlike those days back at Club Culture, I don't think anyone will be vomiting.


An Evening of Short Plays and Music

FUCK A TURK
By Mira Gibson

SOMETHING LIKE LONELINESS
By Ryan Dowler

SONGS FOR THE BLACKOUT
By Chris Sullivan

with
HAPPY NEW YEAR
NORTH HIGHLANDS
SWEET BULBS
ESKALATORS

Death by Audio
49 S 2nd St Btwn Wythe and Kent
L to Bedford, JMZ to Marcy

Plays at 8:00 sharp, bands to follow.

Sunday, February 6 is SuperBrunch Sunday!

Yes.  The Youngblood Playwrights are tackling sports.  This is going to get ugly.

I Am Going To Make Fun Of You.

So, um... The Sluts of Sutton Drive opens tomorrow.

There was a moment in our tech rehearsal yesterday when I turned Graeme Gillis, Youngblood’s Co-Artistic Director (and actor in my play), and said, “Wow. I think this show might just come together after all.”

He agreed. “Yeah, I think people are mostly going to have a great time. Except for a couple of people who will really, really hate it.”

I laughed it off until later when I thought to myself, “Wait. Why would anybody hate The Sluts of Sutton Drive?” I mean, I could understand if somebody thought it was just plain stupid or poorly written or whatever, but the insinuation was that the play would offend somebody.

There was a reading of the play in Park Slope a few months ago and the email that went out had a warning on it. “Not for the faint of heart,” or something like that. I’ve heard actors in various readings and in this production too call it a “dangerous” play. My agent says most theaters won’t have the balls to produce it. Here’s the thing though… it’s just a comedy.

That’s all.

It’s never my intention to offend people. I love my audience. I want them to have a unique and thrilling experience. I may try to shock them a little, but it’s only to shock them into laughter. I write about things that hurt me or anger me- in this case it’s the subjugation of women, rigid gender roles, conformity, rape, income disparity, addiction- and then I make fun of them. For me, it’s a way to talk about them and take their power away. What can I say? I like cheekiness and I have a gallows humor as a result of my effed up background. Further, as a poor person without full civil rights, one of the only things I have at my disposal is my ability to make fun of shit. What... can't take a joke?

I could go a step further and spell out how offensive or shocking humor is an important part of a larger queer dialogue and an integral part of our community’s make-up, but that’s totes pretentious and not really necessary. True, but not necessary.

It’s especially annoying to me when other liberals get offended by plays. It’s always the same kind of liberal- a privileged, armchair, politically inactive one who complains about my dog and pony show without actually being offended by the things I’m satirizing. Liberals can be so annoying!

The Sluts of Sutton Drive isn’t a dangerous play. It isn’t a challenging play. Or, at least, it shouldn’t be. What’s really dangerous is a whole art form’s insistence that plays be this particular thing or that particular thing. (This and that = white, male, straight, wealthy etc.) What makes people think they're exempt from being offended anyway? Frankly, it’s dangerous that there aren’t a shit ton of plays that poke fun of things mainstream theater audiences hold dear- because, frankly, almost all of us deserve to be made fun of.

The Sluts of Sutton Drive opens tomorrow. I hope you don't hate it.

Hot Playwrights XI

Look at THIS!



...and how about THIS...




Melissa James Gibson....she wrote THIS.

now that I'm getting on in my years, it occurs to me...

Dear early-20-something birthday boy (or girl):

Now that I'm getting on in my years, it occurs to me.

You keep having your birthday party here:

But there are also places where you can get a drink here:




























Just a thought for next year.

-Mike

Stuff!

When I write plays, I make a concerted effort to minimize or completely eliminate set, props, and costumes. I just know that such things will only cause me pain. Like the time my ribs broke in a car accident on the way to Materials For The Arts to find props for a show last summer. I have learned the lesson. Props=me in the hospital.

IN QUIETNESS, however, has a props list that's crazier than a bag o' mice. And while I'm always up for some Wilderesque minimalism, I really think that this play needs all the stuff. Why? Why I'll tell ya why.

Objects aren't just objects. We humans have these remarkable brains that invest meaning in even the silliest thing. For example, look at this:

• Remember those?? Those pills you put in a glass of water and they expand to become dinosaur shaped sponges?? Those were so awesome. I remember getting them at the National Aquarium in Baltimore when I was a kid. My parents were amazing, amazing individuals and they had a family membership to the Aquarium and they took us there all the time, and it was amazing. We saw dolphin shows on a monthly basis. Dolphins! There were also beluga whales back then, though they don't have them anymore. There's probably a good reason that I don't know about, but I miss them. One time I was standing by the viewing window with my face pressed up against the glass and a beluga whale popped up right in front of me, grinning its cetaceous little grin, and I nearly peed myself. I'm positive that it was messing with me on purpose. Like almost every kid in the world, after visiting the Aquarium, I was filled with a burning desire to become a marine biologist. Like almost every adult in the world, after growing up, I am not a marine biologist.

See what I mean? Objects aren't just objects. They are little bookmarks in our lives. In life, encountering a specific object from your past, like dinosaur sponge pills, can make you suddenly confront a version of yourself who was certain that the future held nothing but bottle-nosed dolphins named Kiki.

Onstage, these objects can give a world context. IN QUIETNESS is filled with objects, costumes, and set pieces that act as a visual vocabulary. Windex, Murphy's Oil Soap, gingham aprons, pastel tablecloths, pitchers of sweet tea, finger sandwiches, and floral centerpieces are the everyday objects of the Homemaking House that immediately establish for the audience the priorities, values, and ideals of the characters within it. Cleanliness. Femininity. Beauty. Pleasantness. Etiquette. Hospitality. It doesn't need to be said. It's right there onstage, simultaneously louder and more subtle than a monologue.

It's still a massive pain to design, find, build, and manage all of those objects, though. So Renee, Maiko, Danielle, Lisa, Alice, and everyone else who has been hemming bed linens, moving boxes of heavy books, and making tiny sandwiches with the crusts cut off...thank you, thank you, thank you. And I'm sorry.

Opening Wednesday! Tickets here!

Jan 19, 20, 28, 29 at 7pm; Jan 24 at 8pm

IN QUIETNESS
by Anna Moench
directed by Birgitta Victorson

A former CEO follows her born-again husband to a Southern Baptist seminary and enrolls as a student in the Homemaking House, a place where marital bliss means never having to say thank you for cleaning the toilet.

Starring Katie Atcheson, Eric Feldman, Julie Fitzpatrick, William Jackson Harper, and Clare McNulty

Being the Belarus Free Theatre

Hey Youngbloggers. This is going to get a little lengthy, and I hope you'll stick through it with me, but just in case you've got a scroll-happy finger, let me tell you this bit now: In support of and solidarity with Belarus Free Theatre, the Public Theater in partnership with Amnesty International will be holding a public demonstration on Wednesday, January 19th, at the Permanent Mission of the Republic of Belarus to the United Nations, at 136th East 67th Street. The protest will be held from 12pm to 1pm. Text the word "PROTEST" to 27138 to receive information and updates on the exact meeting location. For more information: the Public's Facebook Event; the Amnesty International event page, and Amnesty International's statement regarding post-election protesters in Belarus.

Now we'll talk about why, and how, and what else.

So here's the truth. I didn't know much about Belarus until a couple of weeks ago when my roommate and I were discussing which Under the Radar shows we were most excited about. She rattled off her list, enthusiasm for her New Year's resolution ("Spend all my money on theater.") radiating. Then: "...and Belarus Free Theatre. If they make it here."

Wait hang on. If?

Belarus Free Theatre is a theatre company whose work puts them in danger. They write and perform plays that are often openly political, and they do so in a country whose government favors censorship and violence over open dialogues. As Laura Wade noted in The Guardian's Theatre Blog last month, Belarus Free Theatre is underground "...not because it's cool and edgy, but because Belarus is a dictatorship, and any opposition...can be swiftly and harshly silenced." They must perform in secret, and, according to The New York Times, the Belarusian government--and the KGB, still an active presence in the country--has threatened and intimidated the company and those associated with them.

On December 19th and 20th, protesters gathered in Minsk to protest the announced (and suspect) re-election of Aleksandr Lukashenko, who has been in power since 1994. The protest was violently broken up, and opposition candidates were arrested. Two members of Belarus Free Theatre were also arrested, while the rest went into hiding. The company escaped "in small groups, and not in an official fashion," arriving in New York on January 2nd. In this video, shot the day after her arrival in the United States, company co-founder Natalia Kolyada describes the dangers the troupe has faced--and what they still face--all for creating theater. Three days after their escape, The Belarus Free Theatre opened Being Harold Pinter at the Under the Radar festival.

My affection for Pinter and his smoking hot political activism have been well-documented here on the Youngblog. Being Harold Pinter combines pieces of that Nobel lecture with scenes from several Pinter plays and letters written by Belarusian political prisoners. Last Sunday--just one week after Belarus Free Theatre's arrival in the United States, just three weeks after they had been forced underground in their home country--I saw the company perform Pinter in a way I never thought I'd see Pinter performed. I thought I knew all sorts of things about The Homecoming--I've read or seen it dozens of times--but never before had the violence inside of it seemed so fresh and immediate. It wasn't just the story of a family violated, it was the story of minute-to-minute anger, fear, mistrust.

What Pinter does best is keep you in the present, at all times engaged in what's in the room at that moment. What the Belarus Free Theatre did was ratchet up the repercussions. Raise the stakes, but really. I was in the room with the play. I was in the room with the people performing the play. The play was real. Everything was happening, and the distance between me and them felt small, alarming, or nonexistent. The imagery was simply and strongly. The performances were passionate. By the time the play had moved on to Pinter's later, more overtly allegorical pieces, I felt engaged to a point of responsibility.

And that's so good. So rare, and so good. Remember up top when I told you a few weeks ago I didn't know much about Belarus? Well guess what. That's super-different, now. I've done my homework, and it's all thanks to a show I saw. Belarus Free Theatre makes art that seeks to inform within their country, but beyond it, as well. I know I'm preaching to the choir here when I say these things, but even the choir needs to hear it sometimes: theater can move people to action in a way that no other art form can. Theater can take place so near to you that you can have your hand stamped by it on the way in. So close that you can sit in the front row squinting at the faces of the actors in front of you, wondering about the provenance of their scratches and scrapes. So close that you can see the strength of it backed immediately by the fragility of it.

What can we do? As theater artists, patrons, just folks. Well, first, the good news is that what's gone on with Belarus Free Theatre has inspired action. In addition to Wednesday's protest, the Public Theater is holiding a benefit performance for the troupe, and accepting donations on their behalf. In her video statement, Natalia Kolyada puts bluntly the power that those of us in democratic states have. "Only when you speak, the governments could make changes to our country. Only when you speak to your governments, your governments could make a pressure on Belarusian government to release all people who are now in jail in Belarus. Just speak." So do that. Ever write to your Senators? It's super easy. Here's a-sortable-by-state contact list. For those of us in New York, you can contact Senator Gillibrand here, and you can contact Senator Schumer here. If you'd rather send it by post, here's how to do that. Read through the Amnesty International press release and ask your senators to lend their support to the Belarusian prisoners of conscience. 'Cause I know you theater folks, and I know there's one thing you do great, and that's talk. Now, let's make sure your talk gets heard.

Thanks, and thanks for listening.

Goodbye, Ellen Stewart.

Ellen Stewart, founder of La MaMa, passed away this morning. She was 91. The folks over at Flux posted this beautiful quote from Stewart:

Not knowing anything about theaters, I thought it was like playing house...I would have this little theater and they would write plays and all their friends would be in them and live happily ever after."

Let Youngblood continue in this tradition.



Goodbye, Ellen. Downtown is certainly duller without you.

Hot Playwrights X: Rajiv Joseph

Welcome to the tenth edition of Hot Playwrights, our important initiative that celebrates any and all playwrights who don't resemble Susan Boyle or Comic Bookstore Guy from The Simpsons. This is just one of the many ways we keep it klassy here on The Youngblog.

A female Youngblooder who shall remain nameless asked me to post Rajiv Joseph and after I saw the picture she attached I couldn't disagree. Behold:



Oh snap! Look how hot he is. See his smoldering good looks? I like to think Rajiv is the sensitive, intense type of dude who writes poetry for his conquests and makes them eggs in just his boxers. He also looks like he might be super serious, like he'd admonish you for watching Millionaire Matchmaker or reading the tabloids. But maybe not. This next picture seems to say, "I'm smart and sexy but I also have a sense of humor about myself." Ready? Here it is:


Swoon! Wikipedia says Rajiv is from Cleveland, but in my imagination he's English. Just because. Anyway, Rajiv was nominated for a Pulitzer last year. Well, the girls and gays of Youngblood are giving him our prize for Playwright We'd Most Like to See Shirtless. Well played, Rajiv.

P.S. If you do a Google image search for "shirtless Rajiv Joseph" you'll be disappointed. Internet, please fix this grievous oversight forthwith.

Get On The Map

The Arena Stage's New Play Institute has been working on a map that measures the life of new plays and artists. If you're making new plays, get yourself and/or your organization on the map already.

Check it out!

Up Next - UNFILTERED 2011

For more info, see our Now Playing page.

Rehearsals, Unfiltered, and You

I love going to rehearsals. Heck, I love any excuse to leave my apartment. But rehearsals might be my favorite excuse to leave my apartment.

Why is that?

Well, at least in the case of Sweet Forgotten Flavor (opening next Thursday) for a long time the play basically looked like this:




Look at how sad that is. Oh, God. It’s just awful.


Plays are meant to be played and require many a player. Not just the actors (sexy, courageous, wonderful actors), but any participant that helps spin the imagination…those who read the words “Dining Room” at the top of a scene and imagine what that might look like, or how one might get to the “Dining Room” from the “Sitting Room” and how long that might take. Somebody else might think what sorts of objects may be in the “Dining Room,” how long those objects have been there, how much they cost, and what they might mean to the people in this “Dining Room”….

…and then it’s not just some playwright, alone, making stuff up in an empty room. It’s a group of people creating stuff together. A group of people that may include you, should you come to any of the performances of Sweet Forgotten Flavor, In Quietness, or The Sluts of Sutton Drive, where your humor, energy, and even your silence will endow this “Dining Room” with hilarity or fear or compassion.

And then it’s not just a few sad souls pretending stuff in an empty theatre, it’s a group of people sharing a collective experience, where we all can be players and everyone has an excuse to leave their apartment.

Photo Credit: Haskell King and Diana Ruppe rehearse a scene from Sweet Forgotten Flavor, opening January 13th at EST.