The Artist Kunie Sugiura 2003 x
Sunday, December 31, 2017
Saturday, December 30, 2017
Friday, December 29, 2017
Thursday, December 28, 2017
Tuesday, December 26, 2017
Playwright Portrait, Sheila Callaghan, Excerpt from Lascivious Something x
Playwright Portrait, Sheila Callaghan, Excerpt from Lascivious Something
Lascivious Something
Daphne:
You and he were living out of your small car at the San Francisco Bay. You had no more food. You had not washed yourselves in two weeks besides your feet in the water. You had sex four times a day and were on pot much of the time. You were lying with your stringy head in his lap with your eyes closed. You were talking about molecules moving in your fingers and your feet. You were talking about how your skin was not solid, how the vinyl seat was not solid. You said everything was vibrating in nature at all times, and you said it scared you so much, and you said the only time you felt still was when his voice was in your ears, low and serious. And then you felt a wet drop on your closed lids, and you opened them and he was crying into your eyes. And he said your are so beautiful Liza, you are so beautiful you could crack the sky open. And you said August you are like the universe, you are so big you fill me you fill my eyes and you fill me. He brought his head down to yours and unrolled his tongue into your mouth. And his fingers wound around your hair. And you grabbed his hip with your hand and you said the word NEED, and you wrapped your thick leg around his skinny leg, and said the word NEED, and then you sank your teeth into his hip and bit so hard you came back with part of him in your mouth. And then you made love. And you fell asleep. And when you woke up you had a red smear on your face where you fell sleep in his blood. But he was gone. (A beat) That was the last you saw of him.
Monday, December 25, 2017
Sunday, December 24, 2017
The Playwright A.R. Gurney, 2009 (1930-2017)
The Playwright A.R. Gurney, 2009 (1930-2017)
"Sit up straight and trust in the Lord"
A.R. Gurney,
Saturday, December 23, 2017
Friday, December 22, 2017
Playwright Portrait, Itamar Moses, Excerpt from Stories 2007 x
Playwright Portrait, Itamar Moses, Excerpt from Stories 2007
Stories
The reader:
The terrible thing about writing, the thing that, sometimes, he finds the most terrible is the way that that initial spark, that maybe orange glowing ember-tip of a new thing, that genesis, that it happens so easily, that the idea for something comes in a flash, which, while, okay, admittedly, is not a very original way to describe a moment of inspiration in the creative process, but it’s true, it’s almost literally true if you think of neurons and the way they make little electrical storms, but how an idea will come in a flash: A man and a woman. Sitting at a table. There is history. There are particulars. That comes, all of it, in a single moment. Or, okay, full disclosure, because that was never the idea, so, more accurately, to be really really truthful, the idea of a scene that doesn’t get to start, because it is hijacked by its own opening stage direction, by someone nameless, identified only as: “The Reader.” This idea comes in a flash, and it’s joyous, it seems right, and good, and like it will be, for as long as it takes to write, it will be the answer to all of my problems. He thinks. But how, and this, finally, is the terrible thing, how the process of actually writing it is nothing at all like that first flash. The rest is just the day to day work of building something. Often frustrating. Often boring. Often seeming to be almost entirely without the prospect of any discernible reward. And that the choices are therefore to write it and feel only deadened by the poor results especially in light of the brightness of the flash. Or not to write it. And to be haunted by it. A chance unruined because it went untried. An impossible choice unredeemed by the fact that even this, even this idea to write about the choice itself, making use of slightly more recently developed but no less contrived meta-formal meta-conventions, as a way of maybe, finally, saying something a little bit near the vicinity of what he wants to say, even this was part of the idea from the beginning. This was always the idea.
Thursday, December 21, 2017
Flower on the Forest Floor, Jasper National Park, 2004
Flower on the Forest Floor, Jasper, Canada 2004
Wednesday, December 20, 2017
Tuesday, December 19, 2017
Portrait of Playwright Bathsheba Doran, at the Flea Theater, 2010 x
Portrait of Playwright Bathsheba Doran, at the Flea Theater, 2010
Friday, December 15, 2017
Playwright and Composer Heather Christian at the Bushwick Starr, 2017
click to en large
Playwright and Composer Heather Christian with her Hailen Upright Piano
Playwright and Composer Heather Christian with her Hailen Upright Piano
The Bushwick Starr, 2017
Animal Wisdom
Sunday, December 10, 2017
Saturday, December 9, 2017
Portrait of Playwright Jordan Harrison, Main Stage, Playwrights Horizons, 2011 x
Friday, December 8, 2017
Portraits of God in the Wilderness x
God in the Olympics, Olympic National Park,
Sun on the Mountain, North Cascade National Park
Creek Sun in the Great Basin, Great Basin National Park
Thursday, December 7, 2017
Oh My God, St. Mary Pass, Glacier National Park, 1997
Oh My God, St. Mary Pass, Glacier National Park 1997
Wednesday, December 6, 2017
Tuesday, December 5, 2017
Playwright Portrait, Young Jean Lee, 2007, Excerpt from Groundwork of the Metaphysic of Morals x
Playwright Portrait, Young Jean Lee, 2007,
GROUNDWORK OF THE METAPHYSIC OF MORALS:
FAH LO SEE:
Everything is fairly clear and straightforward, like on a balcony in bare feet with the stone of the balcony against your face, shot in the back, fallen to the ground with an arrow sticking out of your head.
And I’m sorry to have been such a disappointment to you. I mean that sincerely. But I also feel kind of like, fuck you.
Monday, December 4, 2017
The Playwright Tina Howe 2008 x
The Playwright Tina Howe, 2008
copyright peterbellamy 2010
Why can't you set up your camera in my brain? Bore a hole in my skull and let 'er rip. (Lurid sound effect) There's no plainness here, but heaving oceans ringed with pearls and ancient cities rising in the mist… Grab your tripod, wonders are at hand… Holy men calling the faithful to prayer as women shed their clothing at the river's edge… Click! Jeweled elephants splash beside them, their reflections shiver and merge -- slender arms dissolving into rippling tusks -- loosened hair painting bashful flanks… Click! Now you see them, now you don't… A breast, a tail, a jeweled eye… Click! Macaws scream over head (sound effect), or is it the laughter of the women as they drift further from the shore, their shouts becoming hoarse and strange… (Sound effect) Aim your camera here, Mr. Hugo. (Tapping her temple) This is where beauty lies… Mysterious, inchoate and out of sight! Click!
Sunday, December 3, 2017
Portrait of Playwright Katori Hall, at Signature Theatre, 2011, x
Portrait of Playwright Katori Hall, at Signature Theatre, 2011
Friday, December 1, 2017
The Playwright Amy Herzog, New York Theatre Workshop, 2017
click image to enlarge
The Playwright Amy Herzog, New York Theatre Workshop, 2017
Mary Jane
By Amy Herzog
Director Anne Kaufman
Scenic Design Laura Jellinek
cast: Carrie Coon, LIZA COLÓN-ZAYAS, Danaya Esperanza, Susan Pourfar, Brenda Wehle
from Mary Jane:
MARY JANE: It’s still raining out there, huh?
TENKEI: Yes. They’re predicting more floods.
MARY JANE : I have a friend…I’m worried about her garden. (brief pause) Oh, no, that’s right. That’s right. She lives on a hill. (she’s briefly comforted by that) My memory…
TENKEI: Sure.
MARY JANE: I keep getting disoriented. They’ve moved Alex’s room a few times. This morning I came out of the bathroom and went to the wrong bed. But not a bed he had been in before. I took a wrong turn, then I went to the right spot in the wrong room. There was a teenager there. A nurse was rubbing him down with lotion. He was staring at the ceiling. I wasn’t sure what my mistake was for a moment. Was it the right bed but the wrong child? The right child, the wrong…time zone?