art, books

“there is a bruise on her thigh. the right.”

This is one of many things — pencil sketches, watercolors, oil paintings, a script for a short film — that I have made over the years that were inspired by Donald Barthelme‘s experimental short story, The Explanation. The “story” is written in a Q & A format, without any of the expected markers of time, place, or character. Just the dialogue between two “speakers,” designated as Q and A, The conversations range from discussions relating to a new, groundbreaking technology, to parody of academic discourse, to simple, declarative sentences that could come from an ESL class, to more personal matters. The title of the piece above comes from the latter: a recurring thread that suggests (among other things) a jealous husband interrogating a private detective about the activities of an unnamed woman:

Q: Do you see what she’s doing?
A: Removing her blouse.
Q: How does she look?
A: Self-absorbed.
[…]
Q: Well, what is she doing now?
A: Removing her jeans.
Q: What is she wearing underneath?
A: Pants. Panties.
Q: But she’s still wearing her blouse?
A: Yes.
Q: Has she removed her panties?
A: Yes.
Q: Still wearing the blouse?
A: Yes. She’s walking along a log.
Q: In her blouse. Is she reading a book?
A: No. She has sunglasses.
Q: She’s wearing sunglasses?
A: Holding them in her hand.
Q: How does she look?
A: Quite beautiful.

After jumping in quick succession between several other conversations, Barthelme returns to the one quoted above:

Q: What is she doing now?
A: There is a bruise on her thigh. The right.

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film, quotes

“I’ve watched you forever, Caden…”

“…but you’ve never really looked at anyone other than yourself. So watch me. Watch my heart break. Watch me jump. Watch me learn that after death there’s nothing. There’s no more watching. There’s no more following. No love. Say goodbye to Hazel for me. And say it to yourself, too. None of us has much time.”

Sammy Barnathan (played by Tom Noonan) in Synecdoche, New York

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art, books, theater

INSPECTOR LEE of the NOVA POLICE

I’m currently attempting to create a new theater piece inspired by the writings of William S. Burroughs — particularly, The Nova Trilogy (or Cut-Up Trilogy ), as writer/adapter, and (eventually, hopefully) director/ designer, as well. It’s early enough in the process, however, that I’m not certain I’ll find the necessary hook to transform this massive, seemingly un-adaptable work of prose into a performance text.

Because early visualization is a crucial element for me when developing a new production, I always end up with a an enormous library of images that relate to the piece in some (often inscrutable) way. Some of the images are scavenged from the web, some from books, and some I create myself. Thus, the image above: a collage depicting Inspector J. Lee, an agent of the Nova Police, sitting in his time/space vehicle, and considering the giant centipede that returned with him from a trip back to the long-gone Mayan Empire.

(Lee’s vehicle is actually just a Linotype machine, which I thought had an unfamiliar, unwieldy, contraption-like shape that would make a perfect mode of transport for the Nova Police.)

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theater

set design for a possible production

Years and years ago, I directed and designed a production of Samuel’s Major Problems, perhaps my favorite script by Richard Foreman, and I’ve been thinking of staging it again. My preparation always includes hours of work designing and re-designing the set (and often the sound and props as well!) for a period of a year or more.

From my recent notes on the play:

Late at night, a dimly lit room. In the distance, sounds of a party can be faintly  heard.

The decor is generally dark and somber: blacks, deep reds, maroons, grays, and browns. This is tempered, however, by gold accents, black and white checked lines, stripes of different colors, etc. A number of chandeliers are suspended above the stage, as are a number of incomplete words and phrases, some of which face the audience, while others hang backwards. Black and white dotted lines of string traverse the stage at different heights and angles.

Additionally, streamers and a few bunches of partially-deflated balloons hang down, along with other cheerfully incongruous decorations, as if someone decided to hold a birthday party inside of a funeral parlor.

The many shelves and cabinets that line the walls are filled with books, candles, skulls, papers, boxes and various strange objects.

There are several large Persian rugs, and a couple of overturned chairs on the floor, which is covered with loose papers and confetti. At each of the four corners of the central rug is a black and white striped pole, 7-feet tall, topped with a practical light bulb, securely fastened to the floor.

The walls are decorated with many framed paintings and photographs—antique portraits, mythical figures and human skulls. Mystical letters, symbols and esoteric diagrams can be made out in the shadowy corners of the stage. There are also a small number of gift-wrapped boxes, varying in size, scattered around the room. In the upstage center wall, there is a secret door, painted to look like the rest of the walls.

There is a very long wheeled table, covered by a tablecloth that hangs almost to the floor, upon which old books and papers are haphazardly stacked or strewn. A pair of wooden chairs are placed near the table. Upstage-right is a second, smaller room that adjoins the main playing area. The decor bears a resemblance to that of the main room, but features a number of easily noticed differences. There is a cloth-draped table against the upstage wall, and on the table rests a coffin with a caster on its foot-end. 

At the downstage edge of the playing area, a row of 4-foot tall posts rise from the floor, each topped with a small golden ball, and all connected with swags of black funeral crepe, which serves to separate the stage from the audience.

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