Sharyn Emery Back to Top Untitled Article References Copy of References Authors Keep Reading < Back Journal of American Drama & Theatre Volume Issue 30 2 Visit Journal Homepage Stages of Struggle and Celebration: A Production History of Black Theatre in Texas Sharyn Emery By Published on May 28, 2018 Download Article as PDF Stages of Struggle and Celebration: A Production History of Black Theatre in Texas . Sandra M. Mayo and Elvin Holt. Austin: University of Texas Press, 2016; Pp. 341. The history of black theatre in the United States tends to be analyzed as a product of the coasts, from New York City during the Harlem Renaissance to San Francisco during the Black Arts Movement. In the twenty-first century, we continue to look to Broadway and off-Broadway as significant sites for study, yet the development of black theatre runs throughout the US. Stages of Struggle and Celebration: A Production History of Black Theatre in Texas by Sandra M. Mayo and Elvin Holt turns the spotlight on the state of Texas and its remarkable history of community theatre, from small amateur groups to professional theatre companies. The book provides a historical overview of black-run companies in five cities: San Antonio, Austin, Dallas, Fort Worth, and Houston, complete with a chronological list of productions for each company in each year of its existence. Most of these theatres have all-black administrators and produce mainly—though not exclusively—plays by black playwrights from throughout the African diaspora. Mayo and Holt emphasize that the book is “a people’s story” (xii) that honors and builds upon the work and scholarship of others, including James Hatch, Erroll Hill, Samuel Hay, and Leslie Sanders, even as it provides new insights. Holt and Mayo begin by noting a gap in scholarship in both general black theatre historiography and the study of the black experience in Texas. Before turning to parallels between the growth of black theatre in Texas and in the country at large, the authors carefully explain black theatre aesthetics and influences. Black theatre in Texas presents a significant challenge to the narrative of Texas’s own cultural identity, which is dominated by violent stories featuring white male heroes, often to the exclusion of minoritized people. Thus, Mayo and Holt create space for a new narrative, one that places black artists at the center of the cultural development of Texas. In Stages of Struggle and Celebration , the existence of these highly professional and successful black companies proves the significance of their work. The text also uncovers the close, fruitful relationships between black theatres and the black church, and between black theatres and historically black colleges and universities (HBCUs) in Texas. Part I of the book establishes the theoretical framework of black theatre, providing a helpful overview of the debates as to what “black theatre” actually is. Beginning with W. E. B. Du Bois’s “criteria for Negro theatre,” Mayo and Holt trace the debate through the scholarship of Paul Carter Harrison and Mikell Pinkney, and the aesthetic theories of August Wilson. The afterword pulls together theory and praxis, evaluating the book’s research and history through the lens of the five questions: who, what, where, when, and why. These sections are beneficial for any reader unfamiliar with the history of black theatre, dating back to the Jim Crow era and moving toward the present day. Part II contains one chapter about each of five major cities in Texas using specific companies to represent the history of black theatre in each area. In the preface, the authors acknowledge that the availability of archival materials and other research sites vary widely by city and individual company. This means that in each chapter, some of the write-ups are much shorter than others, due to the disorganized nature of most of the companies’ archives. Yet the authors make the most of what they have, including detailed performance histories, racial/ethnic demographic information of each city, and, in some cases, frank analysis of problems that affected companies and their ability to stay productive. Examined side by side, these companies share many striking similarities. Plays such as Lorraine Hansberry’s A Raisin in the Sun and Endesha Ida Mae Holland’s From the Mississippi Delta are performed regularly. The section concludes with a list of plays by African-American Texans. Chapter one focuses on San Antonio and offers the most interesting history of the entire book due to the longevity and variety of institutions in this city. Theatre began here earlier than in most other cities, at the turn of the twentieth century. Today, several companies, including the nearly 100-year-old Carver Community Cultural Center and the Hornsby Entertainment Theatre Company produce full seasons of theatre, sometimes in collaboration with local churches or other arts foundations. Chapter two explores black theatre in Austin, the only city in the book that does not currently have an active black theatre. The most recent company, Progressive Arts Collective, saw its founder pass away in 2005, and then it closed in 2012. Holt and Mayo use this example to unpack some inherent difficulties in sustaining a black regional theatre without regular funding and public support. When a theatre company runs almost entirely on volunteer power, it remains on the precarious edge between survival and failure. Dallas emerges as the city with the most theatrical companies as well as the largest population of African Americans. Chapter three covers two currently active companies in depth, the African American Repertory Theatre (AART) and the Black Academy of Arts and Letters (TBAAL), which is most famous for its collaborations with Tyler Perry. Perry began working with TBAAL in the late 1990s and developed several of his characters and scripts there that would later appear in his feature films. Chapters four and five cover Fort Worth and Houston, respectively. Fort Worth contains just two companies, allowing the authors to discuss thoroughly the Jubilee Theatre, which continues to produce work. In Houston, the authors uncover the Thespian Society for “Cullud Genman,” likely a minstrel troupe from the 1860s, but focus mainly on two currently operating companies, the Ensemble Theatre and the Encore Theatre. Stages of Struggle and Celebration is not a critique of persons involved in running the companies, or an evaluation of the companies’ productions, although the authors do analyze why certain companies failed to maintain funding and include some media reviews where available. Instead, this text is a chronological, mainly favorable rundown of the important work done by black theatre companies in Texas. This is a book for students and scholars to use as a starting point for further research. References Footnotes About The Author(s) Sharyn Emery Indiana University Southeast Journal of American Drama & Theatre JADT publishes thoughtful and innovative work by leading scholars on theatre, drama, and performance in the Americas – past and present. Provocative articles provide valuable insight and information on the heritage of American theatre, as well as its continuing contribution to world literature and the performing arts. Founded in 1989 and previously edited by Professors Vera Mowry Roberts, Jane Bowers, and David Savran, this widely acclaimed peer reviewed journal is now edited by Dr. Benjamin Gillespie and Dr. Bess Rowen. Journal of American Drama and Theatre is a publication of the Martin E. Segal Theatre Center. Visit Journal Homepage Table of Contents - Current Issue Stages of Struggle and Celebration: A Production History of Black Theatre in Texas Immersions in Cultural Difference: Tourism, War, Performance Stage for Action: U.S. Social Activist Theatre in the 1940s Samuel Beckett’s Theatre in America: The Legacy of Alan Schneider as Beckett’s American Director The Contemporary American Monologue: Performance and Politics Black Performance on the Outskirts of the Left Introduction: Mediations of Authorship in American Postdramatic Mediaturgies Kaldor and Dorsen's "desktop performances" and the (Live) Coauthorship Paradox Ecologies of Media, Ecologies of Mind: Embodying Authorship Through Mediaturgy Dropping the Needle on the Record: Intermedial Contingency and Spalding Gray's Early Talk Performances #HEWILLNOTDIVIDEUS: Weaponizing Performance of Identity from the Digital to the Physical Previous Next Attribution: This entry is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 4.0 International license.

Watch WHO IS EUGENIO BARBA by Magdalene Remoundou at the Segal Film Festival on Theatre and Performance 2024. Actors, directors, theatre theorists demonstrate the man that reconfigured the Art of Theatre. An account on the world renowned director and theatre theorist Eugenio Barba’s unique approach to the theatrical art. In July, 2019, Εugenio Barba was conferred a honorary doctorate at the Department of Theatre Studies of the University of Peloponnese. A three day conference to the prominent theatre practitioner was held concurrently at the European Cultural Centre of Delphi. At the same time, Teatret ODIN’s troupe staged legendary performances. Moreover, Teatret ODIN’s actors, but also Εugenio Barba himself, carried out some of the acclaimed workshops of ODIN Teatret. The Martin E. Segal Theater Center presents WHO IS EUGENIO BARBA At the Segal Theatre Film and Performance Festival 2024 A film by Magdalene Remoundou Theater This film will be available to watch online on the festival website May 16th onwards for 3 weeks, as well as screened in-person on May 18th. About The Film Country Greece Language Greek, English Running Time 62 minutes Year of Release 2020 Actors, directors, theatre theorists demonstrate the man that reconfigured the Art of Theatre. An account on the world renowned director and theatre theorist Eugenio Barba’s unique approach to the theatrical art. In July, 2019, Εugenio Barba was conferred a honorary doctorate at the Department of Theatre Studies of the University of Peloponnese. A three day conference to the prominent theatre practitioner was held concurrently at the European Cultural Centre of Delphi. At the same time, Teatret ODIN’s troupe staged legendary performances. Moreover, Teatret ODIN’s actors, but also Εugenio Barba himself, carried out some of the acclaimed workshops of ODIN Teatret. Selection and participation in the following International Film Festivals: Film Arte Festival -March 2021 London Greek Film Festival- June 2021 Toronto International Women Film Festival -June 2021 Cannes International Cinema Festival -July 2021 Thessaloniki International Documentary Festival - June 2021 West Side Mountains Doc Festival - October 2021 Athens International Monthly Art Film Festival - November 2021 Berlin lndie Film Festival - December 2021 London International Monthly Film Festival - January 2022 Tokyo Lift- Off Film Festival - April 2022 Athens International Monthly Art Film Festival January 2023 International Epidaurus Film Festival - November 2022 Awards and nominations (if any): Film Arte Festival- March 2021 -Semifinalist London Greek Film Festival - June 2021- Finalist London International Monthly Film Festival January 2022 -Finalist West Side Mountains Doc Festival - October 2021-Honorable Mention Athens International Monthly Art Film Festival November 2021- Honorable Mention Berlin lndie Film Festival - December 2021- Best Director Documentary Award International Epidaurus Film Festival - November 2022-Honorable Mention About The Artist(s) Magdalini Remoundou is TV Director, Director, Script writer, and Production Manager for over thirty years in various Audiovisual Productions: TV shows, TV series (sitcom, comedies, soap opera), live shows, theatrical plays, broadcast news, documentaries. Also she has been Production Manager in theatrical and music productions in open and close venues, since 1990-todate. Magdalini Remoundou is certified tutor for adults in Film and Media studies, she is Dean of Faculty of Culture & Communication Studies in Metropolitan College in Athens since 2012, Programme Leader of the BA Media Production/ Film Directing since 2002. Also, she was official examiner of Greek Ministry of Education regarding the Diploma Examinations for the Film and TV Directing and Audiovisual Production Management. Get in touch with the artist(s) harris@rgbstudios.gr and follow them on social media https://www.instagram.com/magdalini.remoundou/, https://rgbstudios.gr/?lang=el Find out all that’s happening at Segal Center Film Festival on Theatre and Performance (FTP) 2024 by following us on Facebook , Twitter , Instagram and YouTube See the full festival schedule here. "Nightshades" - Veronica Viper Ellen Callaghan Dancing Pina FLorian Heinzen-Ziob Genocide and Movements Andreia Beatriz, Hamilton Borges dos Santos, Luis Carlos de Alencar Living Objects in Black Jacqueline Wade ORESTEIA Carolin Mader Schlingensief – A Voice that Shook the Silence Bettina Böhler The Hamlet Syndrome Elwira Niewiera & Piotr Rosolowski Wo/我 Jiemin Yang "talk to us" Kirsten Burger Die Kinder der Toten Nature Theater of Oklahoma:Kelly Copper and Pavol Liska Hans-Thies Lehmann – Postdramatic Theater Christoph Rüter MUSE Pete O'Hare/Warehouse Films QUEENDOM Agniia Galdanova Snow White Dr.GoraParasit The Making of Pinocchio Cade & MacAskill Women of Theatre, New York Juney Smith BLOSSOMING - Des amandiers aux amandiers Karine Silla Perez & Stéphane Milon ELFRIEDE JELINEK - LANGUAGE UNLEASHED Claudia Müller I AM NOT OK Gabrielle Lansner Making of The Money Opera Amitesh Grover Red Day Besim Ugzmajli The Books of Jacob Krzysztof Garbaczewski The Roll Call:The Roots to Strange Fruit Jonathan McCrory / National Black Theatre/ All Arts/ Creative Doula next...II (Mali/Island) Janne Gregor Chinoiserie Redux Ping Chong Festival of the Body on the Road H! Newcomer “H” Sokerissa! Interstate Big Dance Theater / Bang on a Can Maria Klassenberg Magda Hueckel, Tomasz Śliwiński Revolution 21/ Rewolucja 21 Martyna Peszko and Teatr 21 The End Is Not What I Thought It Would Be Andrea Kleine The Utopians Michael Kliën and En Dynamei Conference of the Absent Rimini Protokoll (Haug / Kaegi / Wetzel) / Film By Expander Film (Lilli Kuschel and Stefan Korsinsky) GIANNI Budapesti Skizo, Theater Tri-Bühne Juggle & Hide (Seven Whatchamacallits in Search of a Director) Wichaya Artamat/ For What Theatre My virtual body and my double Simon Senn / Bruno Deville SWING AND SWAY Fernanda Pessoa and Chica Barbosa The Great Grand Greatness Awards Jo Hedegaard WHO IS EUGENIO BARBA Magdalene Remoundou

Encounter | Cyn | M.A. Dennis | Manners and Respect | | Thomas Fucaloro |'s work Mixed Use in Staten Island, at this year's edition of the Prelude in the Parks festival by The Segal Centre, presented in collaboration with Roc-A-Natural Cultural Foundation, Staten Island. Prelude in the Parks 2024 Festival Mixed Use | Cyn | M.A. Dennis | Manners and Respect | | Thomas Fucaloro | Poetry, Music Saturday, June 8, 2024 @ 3pm Tappen Park, Staten Island Tappen Park is located at the intersection of Canal, Water, and Bay streets Roc-A-Natural Cultural Foundation, Staten Island Presented by Mov!ng Culture Projects and The Segal Center in collaboration with Presented by Mov!ng Culture Projects and The Segal Center View Location Details RSVP To Event Staten Island Artists explore their relationship to Tappen Park (named after WWI veteran James Tappen) among the oldest public parks on Staten Island, and a former village center that predates the borough’s annexation by the City of New York, and the effects of climate change on their beloved island. | Cyn | M.A. Dennis | Manners and Respect | | Thomas Fucaloro | Various artists based in and around the Statten Island borough will come together for this event. These include: Hailing from the concrete jungle of Staten Island, New York, Manners and Respect is a rap-reggae fusion duo that's been bringing the vibes since the early days of the millennium. Formed by brothers Imanuel I-AM-I Stennett and Jahfree Jah Jah Beats Stennett, their sound is a melting pot of their experiences growing up on the East Coast, heavily influenced by the golden age of hip-hop and the infectious rhythms of reggae blasting from local Caribbean shops. Thomas Fucaloro is the winner of numerous grants from the Staten Island Council of the Arts, the NYC Department of Cultural Affairs, NYC Office for the Prevention of Hate Crimes and NYC Commission of Human Rights to name a few He has been on six national slam teams, holds an MFA in creative writing from the New School and is a co-founding editor of Great Weather for Media and NYSAI press. He is also an adjunct professor at Wagner College and BMCC where he teaches various poetry and literature courses, and the co-founder of Poetry in the Park, WORDPLAY, Creating Space, Poetry in Motion and Creativity Meets Geek. Thomas has released 2 full lengths: It Starts From the Belly and Blooms and Inheriting Craziness is a Soft Halo of Light by Three Rooms Press. He also has 4 chapbooks: Mistakes Disguised as Stars (Tired Hearts Press), Depression Cupcakes (Yes, Poetry), There is Always Tomorrow (Mad Gleam Press) and The Only Gardening I Do is When I Give Up by Finishing Line Press. Cynthia Rodriguez is a multi-talented artist who expresses herself through words and paint, often using both hands ambidextrously in her creations. Driven by a desire to inspire others, she seeks to encourage individuals to share their stories and embrace their authenticity, living life fully in their truth. You can see what Cyn is currently up to by visiting her Instagram @Cyn.is.Cyn and clicking on the link tree in her bio. M.A. Dennis contains multitudes. He is a National Black Writers Conference Emerging Poet, lover of free refreshments, and a survivor of homelessness. Johns Hopkins University Press Blog describes him as “a hilarious but also heartbreaking performance poet.” M.A.’s work has been published in many anthologies and a few public bathroom stalls. Dennis lives in Shaolin Island, NY with his four pet rocks (Chris, Fraggle, Gibraltar & Plymouth). IG: m_a_dennis575 Matt Figgz is an educator who loves reading, anime, and cold leftovers. He is also the co-founder of "Poetry in the Park" (@official_poetryinthepark), a free outdoor open mic series that started in response to the weight of Covid. Matt Figgz has a poetry collection, "Adolescence", that is available on Amazon. Visit Artist Website Location Tappen Park is located at the intersection of Canal, Water, and Bay streets Roc-A-Natural Cultural Foundation, Staten Island Roc-A-Natural Cultural Foundation Inc (RANCF) is dedicated to educating, empowering and inspiring the community in the areas of health, the arts, and culture. About five years ago Founder and President, Dorcas Meyers, had a vision to connect the neighboring 5 boroughs through "edu-taining" events; exposing the diverse culture of Staten Island's Northshore and sharing the talents of creatives that make up the uniqueness of New York’s residents. Ms. Meyers is a native Staten Islander, a businesswoman and cultural advocate. Under her leadership Roc-A-Natural Cultural Foundation has partnered with a number of nonprofits, entrepreneurs, creatives, and public and private agencies to bring great talent and epic events to the Northshore, branding it as a tourist destination. Launching in 2018, here are some of the cultural programs RANCF has sponsored and hosted that have drawn crowds of over 700 to 1,000 people from various boroughs to the Northshore. 2018, 2019, 2020, 2023: the JCC Beacon Program at I.S. 49 in collaboration with Alkebulan Consciousness Rising and Jason Price Celebrating Unsung Community Leaders Making A Difference, A Black History Month Black History Through Time and Sound Kwanzaa Celebration 2018, 2020, 2021, 2022: “Taking It To The Streets: Free Friday Night Films” Series in collaboration with Secta 5 Productions, First Central Baptist, Maker Park Radio, National Lighthouse Museum, Empire Outlets, National Jazz Museum in Harlem Taking It To The Streets: F-A-M-I-L-Y Day at Tappen Park, October 14, 2023 2020, 2021, 2022, 2023, 2024: Juneteenth Celebrations, Re-enactment & Parade in collaboration with First Central Baptist Church, Jubilee Collectives, Friends Who Think Pink, Shaolin Ryders, Universal Temple of the Arts, National Lighthouse Museum and Jeannine Otis 2022, 2023: Kwanzaa Celebration in collaboration with Alkebulan Consciousness Rising, Central Family Life Center, Janet G. Robinson aka "The Kwanzaa Lady" 2022: Black Lighthouse Keepers and Life Saving Service members in collaboration with the National Lighthouse Museum and Staten Island Black Heritage 2024: The Freedom Ball in collaboration with Friends Who Think Pink Breast Cancer Awareness Organization, Shaolin Ryders and Jason Price 2024: TappenTeers at Work Park Clean-up & Horticulture with Partnerships for Parks 2024: Art In The Parks in collaboration with NYC Green Fund, May 11, 2024 Visit Partner Website

Richard Hayes Back to Top Untitled Article References Copy of References Authors Keep Reading < Back Journal of American Drama & Theatre Volume Issue 33 2 Visit Journal Homepage The Theatre of Eugene O’Neill: American Modernism on the World Stage. Kurt Eisen. Methuen Drama Critical Companions Series. London: Methuen Drama, 2017; Pp 242 + xiv. Richard Hayes By Published on April 9, 2021 Download Article as PDF The Theatre of Eugene O’Neill: American Modernism on the World Stage . Kurt Eisen. Methuen Drama Critical Companions Series. London: Methuen Drama, 2017; Pp 242 + xiv. Kurt Eisen’s excellent The Theatre of Eugene O’Neill: American Modernism on the World Stage appears as part of the Methuen Drama Critical Companions series, a series that “covers playwrights, theatre makers, movements and periods of international theatre and performance” and gives “attention to both text and performance” in critical surveys of the work of individual authors. Other contributions to the series include books on Beckett and Tennessee Williams and on the American stage musical and twentieth-century verse drama in England. Eisen here gives a succinct but rich account of O’Neill’s plays, captures well the breadth and range of O’Neill’s achievement, outlines key thematic concerns, and opens up interesting questions for both established scholars and those new to O’Neill’s vast, endlessly intriguing body of work. Essays by William Davies King, Alexander Pettit, Katie Johnson and Sheila Hickey Garvey offer additional and complementary critical perspectives. A comprehensive bibliography identifies all the major critical works and also points towards useful further reading. In other words, the book is a fine addition to the large volume of material in print on O’Neill as well as a suitable beginning point for students and scholars. From the beginning, Eugene O’Neill took himself and the American theatre seriously: one is struck, in placing O’Neill in the company of other Modernists, by how little mischief there is in O’Neill and how lacking the work is in frivolity. Every play appears to have been mined from the earth through earnest labor and is presented with the utmost sincerity, and it is this purposeful determination to shape a modern American theatre from the ground up, play by play, that defines his contribution. Even O’Neill’s apprentice works, many of them terrible, show serious intent. These early failures (such as Thirst , Fog , A Wife for a Life , ‘Ile ) were attempts to “sort out themes and situations that interested him dramatically” (25), says Eisen in an exemplary examination of O’Neill’s work to 1920 and, to some extent, these themes and situations interested him throughout his career. Revisiting the early plays having read Eisen, one is struck by how much of the master-works ( The Iceman Cometh , Long Day’s Journey into Night , A Moon for the Misbegotten ) are contained within these trial pieces. Eisen convincingly frames a consideration of these lifelong themes and situations around a distinction between “modernity” and “modernism”, the latter “both an expression and critique” of the former. O’Neill’s restless experimentation was part of his search for “a unifying principle in the absence of a guiding theology or traditional values adequate to prevailing conditions of American modernity.” In the end, O’Neill “affirmed the American theatre as a heterotopian counter-site where one can more powerfully imagine other lives and the otherness of one’s own life” (69), defining through his will alone the modern American stage as something more than the “hateful theatre of my father,” as he famously described the nineteenth-century American stage. We follow this “modernity-modernism” thread through a series of linked, themed essays, an approach that allows the reader to draw from disparate and separate phases in O’Neill’s work very profitably. The themes—they may be summarised as: America, gender, race, family—are helpful in identifying all sorts of possibilities for more detailed conversation and research. In the chapter called “New Women, Male Destinies: the ‘Woman Plays’”, Eisen gives careful consideration to, amongst others, Anna Christie , Strange Interlude , and A Moon for the Misbegotten and notes some of O’Neill’s limitations as an artist. O’Neill’s final works seems to concede “his inability to fully represent women on stage”: over his career, O’Neill “creates a powerful if distorting lens into the lives of women in modern America, rooted equally in O’Neill’s personal emotional mythology and the gender typology of an American theatre tradition he could never completely experiment beyond” (92). In “‘Souls under Skins’: Masks, Race, and the Divided American Self,” Eisen offers very interesting reflections on O’Neill’s use of masks in the context of race. Eisen’s insightful comments on A Touch of the Poet and Irishness are of particular interest to this reader and prompt a reconsideration of O’Neill as an Irish playwright. Eisen is persuasive in “Transience and Tradition: O’Neill’s Modern Families” in his remarks on Beyond the Horizon (a critical play for O’Neill) and rightly argues for the Tyrones in Long Day’s Journey as O’Neill’s “consummate representation of an American family as both fully exposed and forever concealed, tragic in their confrontation with and retreat from American modernity” (140). The complementary essays are terrific. King considers the construction of the notion of “O’Neill” and an “O’Neill play” as a kind of spontaneous “personal branding.” Pettit in his look at O’Neill as a literary—as much as a dramatic—artist concludes that “O’Neill found a text-bound, literary model of drama that allowed him to exercise the sort of control whose elusiveness all playwrights must to some degree lament” (172). Johnson’s essay on The Emperor Jones teases out some aspects of the early productions and complements Eisen’s own treatment of the play in suggesting that Paul Robeson in his performance “embodied the modernist tensions inscribed onto black men” (182). Garvey offers an interesting consideration of Tony Kushner’s productive and lifelong “dialogue” with “the greatest of all America’s playwrights” (197). Omissions are minor. Eisen says nothing about Hollywood as both expression and vehicle of American modernism and of O’Neill’s relationship with the movies. He is good on Ireland and the Irish in his relatively brief but solid consideration of A Touch of the Poet mentioned above, as well as in relation to other plays, but says very little about the influence of the Abbey players on O’Neill – O’Neill’s experience of the Abbey on tour in 1911 has been acknowledged as instrumental in shaping his aesthetic. More too could have been said about Kenneth McGowan and the “triumvirate.” But this is to quibble. There is much to recommend this book. Tragically it is to be Kurt Eisen’s last; he died prematurely (aged just 61) in 2019. A former President of the Eugene O’Neill Society, he made an important contribution to O’Neill studies and to the study of modern American theatre and this book adds to and strengthens that legacy. It is a terrific introduction to O’Neill, will be accessible to undergraduate students coming to O’Neill fresh and still raises new questions for those more familiar with this great playwright’s work. References Footnotes About The Author(s) RICHARD HAYES Waterford Institute of Technology, Ireland Editorial Board: Guest Editors: Nicole Hodges Persley and Heather S. Nathans Guest Editorial Team for this issue: Mark Cosdon, Stephanie Engel, La Donna Forsgren, Javier Hurtado, Mia Levenson, Khalid Long, Derek Miller, Monica White Ndounou, Scot Reese Co-Editors: Naomi J. Stubbs and James F. Wilson Advisory Editor: David Savran Founding Editors: Vera Mowry Roberts and Walter Meserve Editorial Staff: Co-Managing Editor: Casey Berner Co-Managing Editor: Hui Peng Advisory Board: Michael Y. Bennett Kevin Byrne Tracey Elaine Chessum Bill Demastes Stuart Hecht Jorge Huerta Amy E. Hughes David Krasner Esther Kim Lee Kim Marra Ariel Nereson Beth Osborne Jordan Schildcrout Robert Vorlicky Maurya Wickstrom Stacy Wolf Journal of American Drama & Theatre JADT publishes thoughtful and innovative work by leading scholars on theatre, drama, and performance in the Americas – past and present. Provocative articles provide valuable insight and information on the heritage of American theatre, as well as its continuing contribution to world literature and the performing arts. Founded in 1989 and previously edited by Professors Vera Mowry Roberts, Jane Bowers, and David Savran, this widely acclaimed peer reviewed journal is now edited by Dr. Benjamin Gillespie and Dr. Bess Rowen. Journal of American Drama and Theatre is a publication of the Martin E. Segal Theatre Center. Visit Journal Homepage Table of Contents - Current Issue Introduction to "Milestones in Black Theatre" Prologue to the Issue and a Thank-you to Errol Hill Earle Hyman and Frederick O’Neal: Ideals for the Embodiment of Artistic Truth Newly Discovered Biographical Sources on Ira Aldridge Subversive Inclusion: Ernie McClintock’s 127th Street Repertory Ensemble 1991: Original Broadway Production of Langston Hughes and Zora Neale Hurston's Antimusical Mule Bone Is Presented A Documentary Milestone: Revisiting Black Theatre: The Making of a Movement A Return to 1987: Glenda Dickerson’s Black Feminist Intervention Dancing on the Slash: Choreographing a Life as a Black Feminist Artist/Scholar Playing the Dozens: Towards a Black Feminist Dramaturgy in the Work of Zora Neale Hurston Guadalís Del Carmen: Strategies for Hemispheric Liberation “Ògún Yè Mo Yè!” Pathways for institutionalizing Black Theater pedagogy and production at historically white universities Interviews and Afterviews on “Milestones in Black Theatre” Talking About a Revolutionary Praxis: A Conversation with Black Women Artist-Scholars in the Wake of COVID-19 and Black Lives Matter Tarell Alvin McCraney: Theater, Performance, and Collaboration. Sharrell D. Luckett, David Román, and Isaiah Matthew Wooden, eds. Evanston, IL: Northwestern University Press, 2020; Pp. 252. Casting A Movement: The Welcome Table Initiative. Claire Syler and Daniel Banks, eds. New York: Routledge, 2019; Pp. 266. The Theatre of August Wilson. Alan Nadel. Metuen Drama Critical Companions Series. London; New York: Methuen Drama, Bloomsbury Collections, 2018; Pp. 224. Shakespeare in a Divided America: What His Plays Tell Us About Our Past and Future. James Shapiro. New York: Penguin Press, 2020. Pp. 221. The Theatre of Eugene O’Neill: American Modernism on the World Stage. Kurt Eisen. Methuen Drama Critical Companions Series. London: Methuen Drama, 2017; Pp 242 + xiv. Errol Hill Award Winners 1997-2020 Previous Next Attribution: This entry is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 4.0 International license.

Shauna Vey Back to Top Untitled Article References Copy of References Authors Keep Reading < Back Journal of American Drama & Theatre Volume Issue 32 1 Visit Journal Homepage Staging Family: Domestic Deceptions of Mid-Nineteenth Century American Actresses Shauna Vey By Published on November 6, 2019 Download Article as PDF Staging Family: Domestic Deceptions of Mid-Nineteenth Century American Actresses. Nan Mullenneaux. Lincoln: University of Nebraska Press, 2018; Pp. 400. In Staging Family: Domestic Deceptions of Mid-Nineteenth Century American Actresses, Nan Mullenneaux looks at significant figures of American theatre in a new way. From actresses active on the US stage in the mid-nineteenth century, she has selected those whose words remain in published memoirs, press interviews, or private correspondence. A comparison of their extant writings to the known facts of their lives reveals numerous deceptions, both large and small, by the actress-authors. What were they trying to hide? Mullenneaux organizes her interdisciplinary study around themes that emerge in the writings including motherhood, beginning a career, theatre work, family, moral refinement, marriage, mobility, and patriotism. Although each women’s experience is idiosyncratic, their tales coalesce into a fascinating picture of one cohort’s experience of, and reaction to, being a working woman of the American stage between 1830 and 1870. Virtually every aspect of these actresses’ lives put them at odds with nineteenth-century ideals, as the book argues. They worked, conducting business and exercising agency, while an “ideal” woman was dependent and docile. They continually traveled when it was generally accepted that a woman’s proper sphere was the home, and they sought acclaim when motherhood was considered a woman’s highest calling. In other words, their careers and life choices “threatened … the prescriptive gender roles” of the day (292). What Mullenneaux exposes in these proto-feminists is an unwillingness to claim their heterodox identities. Instead, in writings that adopt a do-as-I-say-not-as-I-do approach, the actress-authors strove to disguise themselves as non-ambitious, patriotic homebodies. According to their self-reports, as Mullenneaux notes, none of these actresses entered the theatre ambitious for fame. Of course not. Only an urgent calling to rescue destitute fathers (or other kin) forced these dutiful women from the warmth of the hearth to the glow of the footlights. As we read multiple versions of this tale — from Fanny Kemble, Anna Cora Mowatt, Charlotte Cushman, Olive Logan, Mrs. Charles Calvert, Clara Morris, Kitty Blanchard, and others — the constructed nature of the actress persona becomes self-evident. Mullenneaux contrasts this assemblage of female testimony with that of contemporaneous male actors who readily claimed talent and ambition as their motivation. Mullenneaux seals her argument by introducing contradictory facts from the biographies of her female subjects. A particularly compelling instance is the collision between Laura Keene’s personal life and the nine-year legal battle she waged over intellectual property rights to Our American Cousin . Mullenneaux argues that Keene ultimately withdrew the suit for fear that testimony would “unmask her domestic deception” (290). Never having divorced her first husband, Keene had presented their children as orphaned nieces while covertly cohabitating with her business manager. Mullenneaux’s insightful analysis of the barely-averted scandal illuminates a larger history. While the pre-copyright entertainment industry was being modernized by the long-running single-play format, legal restrictions still prevented a woman, even a savvy business manager, from testifying in court. In addition to presenting themselves as ideal mothers and wives, this nineteenth-century cohort needed to appear all-American. Hence, they masked their origins and international travels with an aggressive patriotism that fit the age of nation-building and celebrated refined whiteness. Olive Logan supported the “looming genocide against the Native Americans” (158); Fanny Kemble described the black population of New York as “beyond description, grotesques” (156); and in Egypt, Rose Eytinge contrasted the subjugation of women in that “heathen territory” with the American woman “born and reared in freedom,” blithely glossing over millions of enslaved women in the US (156-7). Mullenneaux allows that “conformity to white supremacist views” may have been sincere, but might also have enacted a strategy for social acceptance (156-8). The book briefly discusses the African Grove actresses and some touring singers, highlighting that few non-white women had opportunities for acting careers in this era; Mullenneaux notes that no members of her cohort evidenced concern over this racial exclusion. By the mid-nineteenth century, actresses were often using photography for publicity and Mullenneaux’s astute analysis of their poses and costuming (and the commonalities among them) enhances the book. Another useful asset is an appendix with short biographies of sixty-five actresses mentioned in the text. The author’s choices of actresses give her work both focus and limitations. The women discussed do not represent a cross-section in any scientific sense, but rather the availability of documentation. Thus, the more verbose ladies-in-print, notably Clara Morris, Rose Eytinge and Olive Logan, dominate the conversation. We cannot guess how representative they were, but Mullenneaux is resourceful in seeking evidence and expands her cohort when she can. Furthermore, while she notes the difference between a memoir published at career’s launch and one written after decades in the public eye, she doesn’t adequately factor their differences into her analysis. The plays written by these actresses are also missed opportunities for additional insights. A closer focus on the women’s’ chronological relation to one another would be useful, and the book index should include entries for patriotism, photography, slavery, and each actress discussed. However, the book’s critical strategy is also its major strength. By examining the actresses’ own verbal and visual choices, Mullenneaux restores to them a degree of the agency they sought to obscure. Their biographies attest to their talent and courage; the accumulated evidence of their deceptions convincingly reveals the absolute and unforgiving nature of the gender-based strictures under which they labored. Each woman seems to have independently reached the same conclusion: violating the code would end career and livelihood. How they maneuvered is appropriate reading for an age when working women still face a constellation of questions about when, where, and if to compromise in order to persevere. Staging Family’s dense, panoramic depiction of the era is a treat for theatre historians and nineteenth-century scholars. The focal actresses are situated within the web of familial and professional interconnections that constituted the period’s theatre industry. Over the course of this book, we repeatedly cross paths with individuals as they might have crossed paths with each other. Ultimately, Mullenneaux paints a latitudinal picture, thoroughly contextualized and packed with detail. References Footnotes About The Author(s) Shauna Vey New York City College of Technology City University of New York Journal of American Drama & Theatre JADT publishes thoughtful and innovative work by leading scholars on theatre, drama, and performance in the Americas – past and present. Provocative articles provide valuable insight and information on the heritage of American theatre, as well as its continuing contribution to world literature and the performing arts. Founded in 1989 and previously edited by Professors Vera Mowry Roberts, Jane Bowers, and David Savran, this widely acclaimed peer reviewed journal is now edited by Dr. Benjamin Gillespie and Dr. Bess Rowen. Journal of American Drama and Theatre is a publication of the Martin E. Segal Theatre Center. Visit Journal Homepage Table of Contents - Current Issue Worldmaking: Race, Performance, and the Work of Creativity Black Movements: Performance and Cultural Politics Law and Sexuality in Tennessee Williams’s America Stolen Time: Black Fad Performance and the Calypso Craze Staging Family: Domestic Deceptions of Mid-Nineteenth Century American Actresses Excavating American Theatrical History: Branden Jacobs-Jenkins’s Neighbors, Appropriate, and An Octoroon Mabou Mines Tries Again: Past, Present, and the Purgatory of Performance Space Rehearsing Bereavement with Laughter: Grief, Humor, and Estrangement Affect in Sarah Ruhl’s Plays of Mourning Previous Next Attribution: This entry is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 4.0 International license.

Dahye Lee Back to Top Untitled Article References Copy of References Authors Keep Reading < Back Journal of American Drama & Theatre Volume Issue 35 1 Visit Journal Homepage Dancing the World Smaller: Staging Globalism in Mid-Century America. Rebekah J. Kowal. New York: Oxford University Press, 2020; Pp. 295. Dahye Lee By Published on November 17, 2022 Download Article as PDF Dancing the World Smaller: Staging Globalism in Mid-Century America . Rebekah J. Kowal. New York: Oxford University Press, 2020; Pp. 295. Rebekah J. Kowal’s Dancing the World Smaller: Staging Globalism in Mid-Century America emerged out of photos of “ethnic dance” that she stumbled upon in the New York Public Library for the Performing Arts Dance Collection. By researching archives of this “lost chapter of American dance history” (19), Kowal investigates what it meant to put globalism into practice through “dancing the world smaller” in mid-century America. Kowal zooms in on the dance scene of New York City—the most heterogeneous city in America that emerged as the global cultural capital—as central to what she calls postwar America’s “globalist projects.” Throughout, she examines complications that existed in the staging of international dance as an important means of imagining both the United States as a new global superpower and a world with the US at the center. She compellingly reveals how mid-century universalist approaches to diversity and cross-cultural embodiment were characterized by “dueling impulses” towards “openness, multiculturalism, and multilateralism” on one hand, and “nationalism, containment, homogeneity, … and racist American cultural heritages,” on the other (8). Notably, she recognizes the contributions of dance artists whose work was produced in New York City, framing those underrepresented in dance history scholarship as indispensable to the formation of American modern dance as well as American globalism. Kowal presents rich archival research, analyzed through a close reading of materials ranging from programs, calendars, and contracts to interviews, letters, and autobiographical essays. Her writing weaves these materials together, bringing readers in. Equally impressive is her dexterity with explaining the political and historical contexts of mid-Century America that are all intermeshed. Consequently, the volume speaks to multiple fields of studies, from interculturalism and postcolonial studies to Cold War history and immigration studies, as it pursues dance history. Each of the book’s four chapters revolves around the work of an individual artist or a set of performances. While each chapter functions as a case study, they also interconnect, culminating in her discussion of the International Dance Festival in 1948 for New York City’s Golden Jubilee. (The fiftieth anniversary celebrated the unification of the city’s five boroughs to form the Greater City of New York). Chapter one, “Staging Integration,” focuses on Around the World with Dance and Song , a dance program at the American Museum of Natural History from 1943 to 1952. The series presented dance performances from forty-four countries, unparalleled for “its diverse offerings and expansive definition of international dance” (37). As Kowal shows, the series reflected mid-century globalist thinking and efforts to “put the city on the international map as a global center for international dance production and performance.” Set against the backdrop of the US entry into World War II and increased expectations that museums be “useful to society,” the program was ended because it was deemed not “serious and scholarly” enough (34). Guiding her readers through the innovative project’s arc, Kowal demonstrates that even though its efficacy in staging globalism can best be seen “as a substitution for or simulacrum of experience” or “armchair travel,” the program still made two important achievements: it contributed to a redefinition of ethnic dance in the mid-twentieth century and it “prompt[ed] Americans to look outward” (71). Chapter two, “Staging Ethnologic Dance,” centers on the work of La Meri, one of the most accomplished concert dancers of her time, named “the highest authority on ethnological dances” (74). The co-founder with Ruth St. Denis of the School of Natya, later renamed the Ethnologic Dance Center, La Meri was an “ambassador of dance,” widely considered an “intercultural mediator” (117). Kowal takes Homi Bhabha’s theory of mimicry to analyze La Meri’s eclectic dance practices that illuminate ambivalence at work (74). One important focus of the chapter is the dancer’s fraught relationship with St. Denis, with whom she was often compared. Kowal explores the complicated case of La Meri, who was at the intersection of enjoying cultural privileges as a white dance artist, given the benefit of doubt in terms of her work’s authenticity on one hand, and cast outside the mainstream as an ethnic dance artist, whose work was dismissed as “recreative” rather than “creative” on the other (102). Chapter three, “Staging Diaspora,” aligns Arthur A. Schomburg’s advocacy of vindicationist politics in early Black history and Michel de Certeau’s ideas about “the necessity for disenfranchised peoples to be their own historians.” Here, Kowal focuses on African dance festivals directed by Asadata Dafora, a Sierra Leonean-born dancer who became “the first African to put an African show [in] the American Theatre and concert halls” (123). Dafora worked under the auspices of the African Academy of Arts and Research in the 1930s and ‘40s, a significant era of African American concert dance, which afforded increased opportunities to artists of the African diaspora (124). Framing mixed critical receptions of Dafora’s work and its authenticity by writers including Zora Neale Hurston and John Martin, Kowal demonstrates how Dafora registered as a “transnational subject” whose ambassadorial work “[spoke] for Africa,” building bridges between African and American cultures (144). Both chapters two and three research liminal subjects—La Meri and Dafora—who moved both within and outside of the mainstream, invariably engaged in debates over cultural authority and authenticity. The fourth and last chapter, “Staging Diversity/Staging Containment,” circles back to the case study of the 1948 International Dance Festival. Kowal examines critical discourses surrounding three different companies that performed for the festival: the Paris Opera Ballet, Ram Gopal and his Hindu Ballet, and Charles Weidman. As Kowal reveals, the festival’s grand plan aimed to celebrate multicultural aspects of the city by showcasing a sampler of global dances. However, “much to [the organizer’s] chagrin,” only three out of the fourteen invited countries—one among them being America—responded to invitations (168). Juxtaposing Weidman’s success against the two “others”—Paris Opera Ballet’s director Serge Lifar, who was labeled as a “Queerographer,” and Ram Gopal, who played the role of a “foreign exotic,” Kowal asserts that the festival “crystalized ideals and contradictions of mid-century globalism” (199). In other words, the festival, promoting diversity and opposing differences simultaneously, exemplified the difficulties and complexities of staging globalism in America in the early Cold War years. Thematically, Kowal’s book revolves around dance’s intercultural potential—its ability to bring people together and bridge cultural differences. While demonstrating the contradictory political gestures at work in mid-century American globalism through her compelling case studies, this monograph encourages readers to understand how “dancing the world smaller” might become possible. Dancing the World Smaller is a valuable addition to global studies as well as dance studies, seeking to understand globalism from the perspectives of dance and performance as a practice, a performance, and as lived experience. References Footnotes About The Author(s) DAHYE LEE City University of New York Journal of American Drama & Theatre JADT publishes thoughtful and innovative work by leading scholars on theatre, drama, and performance in the Americas – past and present. Provocative articles provide valuable insight and information on the heritage of American theatre, as well as its continuing contribution to world literature and the performing arts. Founded in 1989 and previously edited by Professors Vera Mowry Roberts, Jane Bowers, and David Savran, this widely acclaimed peer reviewed journal is now edited by Dr. Benjamin Gillespie and Dr. Bess Rowen. Journal of American Drama and Theatre is a publication of the Martin E. Segal Theatre Center. Visit Journal Homepage Table of Contents - Current Issue “An Art for Which There Is as Yet No Name.” Mobile Color, Artistic Composites, Temporal Objects The Anti-Victorianism of Victorian Revivals Tricks, Capers, and Highway Robbery: Philadelphia Self-Enactment upon the Early Jacksonian Stage “The Spirit of the Thing is All”: The Federal Theatre’s Staging of Medieval Drama in the Los Angeles Religious Community The Queer Nuyorican: Racialized Sexualities and Aesthetics in Loisaida, by Karen Jaime. New York City, NY: New York University Press, 2021; 275pp. $28.00 paper. Rise Up! Broadway and American Society from Angels in America to Hamilton. Chris Jones. London: Methuen Drama, 2019. Pp. 215. Dancing the World Smaller: Staging Globalism in Mid-Century America. Rebekah J. Kowal. New York: Oxford University Press, 2020; Pp. 295. Ishtyle: Accenting Gay Indian Nightlife. Kareem Khubchandani. Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press, 2020. The Great White Way: Race and the Broadway Musical; Reframing the Musical: Race, Culture and Identity Previous Next Attribution: This entry is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 4.0 International license.

Heather S. Nathans, Javier Hurtado, Benny Sato Ambush, Henry Bial, Kristoffer Diaz, Kim Marra, Harvey Young Back to Top Untitled Article References Copy of References Authors Keep Reading < Back Journal of American Drama & Theatre Volume Issue 38 1 Visit Journal Homepage What’s at Stake? Sustaining DEIJ in U.S. Theatre Heather S. Nathans, Javier Hurtado, Benny Sato Ambush, Henry Bial, Kristoffer Diaz, Kim Marra, Harvey Young By Published on January 26, 2026 Download Article as PDF A Roundtable with the College of Fellows of the American Theatre Participants: Benny Sato Ambush, Henry Bial, Kristoffer Diaz, Kim Marra, and Harvey Young Curated by: Heather S. Nathans (Tufts University) and Javier Hurtado (Saint Mary’s College) Three times a year, the College of Fellows of the American Theatre hosts a Roundtable on current issues facing artists and educators. When The Fellows Gazette announced its theme of “What’s at Stake” for the spring 2025 issue on diversity, equity, inclusion, and justice in U.S. theatre, could we have imagined that the stakes would be this high? Could we have imagined that the individual words—diversity, equity, inclusion, and justice—would become so weaponized that organizations and educational institutions would scrub them from their websites as though they were obscenities scrawled by vandals, rather than words that have graced some of the nation's most historic speeches and treasured monuments? And we must acknowledge that even since our Roundtable discussion seven months ago, the landscape for DEIJ work in many colleges and universities has contracted in ways that will impact teachers and students for years to come. Additionally, many dance and theatre artists across the U.S. have lost funding for work that seems too “woke” to an administration intent on silencing dissent and rewriting history. In such a moment what does it mean to try to return to the core values of DEIJ represented in each of those individual words? As part of the commemoration of its sixtieth year, the College of Fellows Roundtable explored how the organization understands what diversity, equity, inclusion, and justice mean to a community of artists and scholars who have dedicated their careers to telling the stories of marginalized communities. In this Roundtable conversation, we share the reflections of theatre artists and scholars on the past, present, and future of diversity, equity, inclusion, and justice in U.S. theatre. Theatre people have always understood that survival requires collaboration. It also demands building a “Welcome Table” that uplifts all voices and identities. A note on the structure of the essay : For each Roundtable, we conduct a series of interviews with artists and scholars, inviting each to respond to the same five questions. We then blend their voices into a larger conversation. Can you describe the impact that you’ve seen DEIJ activism have on U.S. theatre over the past 10-20 years (this might include major milestones or important trends you've seen, or it might include communities represented, voices uplifted, etc.)? Henry Bial , Professor at the University of Kansas, observes, “What we are seeing is a radical expansion of the kind of stories and identities that are getting produced.” As Bial argues, Black theatre, Latinx, LGBTQ+ theatre, Women’s Theatre, Asian American theatre, Indigenous theatre, didn’t suddenly manifest in the 2000s, but “mainstream” theatres often seemed reluctant to produce art that, “expressed the whole range of human experience.” Bial notes that this was once particularly true in university theatre, where institutions might allocate a “slot” for a so-called DEIJ show, without imagining that every show in a season could engage with the university’s values around diversity, equity, inclusion, and justice. Bial marks the important shift from seeing the exploration of DEIJ topics as “optional” to them becoming part of the core mission of educational institutions. Bial adds, “I think a really healthy thing that's happened in the last ten or twenty years has been moving the conversation past the kind of counting game of ‘This is how many actors of a certain demographic we've put on the stage,’ or ‘This is how many playwrights of a certain demographic have been represented,’ and we're moving towards a kind of qualitative understanding of the stories that we're telling.” He points to the importance of student activism in this shift, as new generations of performers reject narratives and types of representation that don’t do the kinds of cultural labor they want to see. Picking up on Bial’s theme of representation, award-winning director, Benny Sato Ambush , reflected on his first trip to the annual gathering of LORT theatres in Jackson Hole, Wyoming. “It was the early 1980s and there was one person of color there, me, and one woman.” Ambush’s comment raises the question of what it means to be “the only” in a space that might be majority white or majority male-identifying. Ambush describes, “I first started seeing a difference in representation especially racially and culturally during the 1980s when Equity was sponsoring regional, nontraditional casting symposiums,” as a result of a prior four-year study about representation in the American theatre. He recalled one symposium in San Franciso which explored what he then called the “hot topic” of “multicultural and non-traditional casting in different categories of approaches,” noting that this was “before the term ‘antiracist’ came into common use.” As Benny commented, “The terms we used back then were multiculturalism and pluralism… and those were supposed to create a ‘big table’ to which everyone was invited.” And while the terms have continued to develop, Ambush saw those regional symposiums and a flurry of articles in American Theatre and other publications (some that he wrote) begin, “to make a little difference.” Ambush’s acknowledgement that the difference seemed “little” offers a telling reminder of the immense gaps in representation that have persisted throughout the trajectory of U.S. theatre. “We’ve been having this same conversation for twenty-five years,” observes award-winning playwright, librettist, screenwriter, and educator, Kristoffer Diaz , as he reflected on the conversations among arts organizations and educators about creating more compositionally diverse teams and broader representation in U.S. repertoires. For Diaz, it seems a simple idea that, “The more different kinds of voices you have, the better the work is going to be.” However, he acknowledges that this is where the “simple” aspect of the work ends. He reminds his students that representation onstage, in the repertoire, and in the academy has shifted over the past three decades. Yet, he also notes, “I'm working primarily in the Broadway world these days [and] I’m consistently shocked by how few of specific groups are represented, how few Latino artists are working in on Broadway. When was the last time that a Latino playwright had a play produced, or more than one in a season?” Diaz calls out the current season as unusual for featuring two stories that center Latinx voices and cautions those who see it as clear evidence of “progress.” As he argues, “There is so much that is undone or unfinished...There's room, there's room, there's stories to be heard,” beyond those one or two plays. Diaz does see the results of the work that so many artists and scholars have put into the field over the trajectory of his career, “I think that things have gotten better…as a writer feeling comfortable and confident that I can write the things that I want to write, and that I [will] have actors regardless of the character that I want to put on stage. I'm going to be able to find the actors to play those roles. I'm going to find directors who can understand or at least have the vocabulary to do [the work]. I feel great about that…[and] I feel really good about the opportunity that these shows will have…to find an audience.” The paradox of when the work might be “finished” still lingers, as he says, “At the same time I still feel that very real sense of the work not being done.” Like Diaz, Professor Emeritus Kim Marra looked back at generational change in the trajectory of diversity, equity, inclusion, and justice, sharing her perspective as a path-breaking scholar in LGBTQ+ performance history. From Marra’s perspective, “The visibility of trans advocacy and trans rights has been a major force in the last ten or twenty years.” She pointed to a number of rising scholars whose work explores “the queer unfinished” and what it means to “queer archives.” 1 Marra spotlighted not only the scholars who have been expanding on some of the conversations she helped to launch through her own work, but the earlier generations of scholars who helped to mold her early in her career. As she acknowledged, many of those community members might not have been able to openly express their identities forty or fifty years ago, but they made opportunities to encourage and support their students’ and mentees’ work. That encouragement helped to legitimize pursuing LGBTQ+ theatre as a research topic. Marra also shared the tremendous impact of two major Black theatre scholars who taught her during her undergraduate and graduate education, Errol Hill (Dartmouth) and Esther Merle Jackson (University of Wisconsin-Madison). Beyond the skills and knowledge they shared with her, for Marra, both of these individuals became role models, “for the battles [they] fought.” Their teachings came full circle in the year before her retirement, which witnessed the murder of George Floyd and the tremendous expansion of the Black Lives Matter movement. As she says, “I spent that summer trying to take my understanding of DEI and how my courses were honoring that mission to another level, because clearly whatever we had been doing was not sufficient. I'm grateful that I had that opportunity, that provocation to do that before I left.” Looking to the future, Marra says she hopes to continue mentoring new scholars—particularly in the areas of disability studies, eco studies, and animal studies (where much of her recent research has focused). As she observes, “The interconnectedness of species has become more and more pressing to understand, and performance can provide ways of doing that because of all of the unique potentials of performance and performance studies. My intersectional frame has expanded to include, along with race ethnicity, class gender, sexuality, gender identity, also to include species. Historically, as we know, animals have been used to denigrate people. Certain people have been seen as less human, more animalistic. So, I feel an urgency as a theater historian who has studied American theater in particular, to see how that works through those histories.” Harvey Young , Dean of the College of Fine Arts and Vice President for the Arts, ad interim , Boston University, described the transformations he witnessed as a scholar and administrator over the past decade. Young pointed to #BLM , “We See You White American Theatre,” “Stop Asian Hate,” #MeToo , and the other activist movements that have challenged American artists and spectators to “stand up and say, ‘Let’s listen to these stories. Let’s take a moment to hear a person share their experience.’” Young points to the work commissioned in the wake of so many tragedies as communities have grappled with the aftermath of multiple traumas or ongoing marginalization. He argues, “You can see the proliferation and growth of those previously unheard voices. These new plays, specifically post 2020, have helped Broadway evolve. The shifting demographics of voices featured in regional theaters are noticeable and related to the movements occurring over the past decade.” Young adds, “I often write about African American theater. My Cambridge Companion to African American Theater book, which came out in its first edition in 2012,” a moment Young describes as “the before times of Black Lives Matter at a national level.” He adds, “When the book was first published, there were not that many contemporary Black playwrights who had won the Pulitzer Prize and whose works were frequently appearing on Broadway and regional stages.” Like Diaz, Young sees positive change in whose stories are being told now and whose work is being recognized. However, also like Diaz, he acknowledges the significant distance yet to be traveled for the professional theatre to create equity in representation. How have the DEIJ initiatives you just talked about seeing shaped your career as an artist or scholar, or both? Bial describes the call to activist work that has shaped his career since the 1990s, watching people like Jill Dolan and Dwight Conquergood. As Bial says, they argued that “The work that we do in the theater and in theater education has to be engaged and active. Theater can't be just an aesthetic artistic thing that happens in a vacuum, or about the kind of conservation of the great cultural achievements of the past, but it has to be that the work we do is about shaping the world for the better, going forward about doing kind of cultural labor.” Bial has been drawn to that kind of craft throughout his career, but says that the diversity, equity, inclusion, and justice movement of the last decade, “has helped sharpen and focus,” his efforts. He adds, “It's helped me realize that this abstract call for theater to make people more empathetic or make people believe more in in the goodness of humanity… is not helping the people who need help.” For Bial, theatre adorned with platitudes does nothing to “really move the needle” on “the social conditions that we want to try to influence both within our institutions and beyond.” Marra’s current research on animal performance has challenged her to think about the ways that classifications around animal labor have translated into the Social Darwinist mentality that continues to plague U.S. culture. For her, studying animals also offers a window into the origins of some contemporary conversations about ableism and the ongoing question of, “What can a body do?” Marra underscored that her research into ableism and its links to animal performance lies outside the standard subjects familiar to scholars of U.S. theatre. For Marra, a commitment to inclusion and equity are key in identifying and pursuing overlooked subjects. And it returned her to the theme that several of the Roundtable participants echoed—the ways in which subjects acquire legitimacy through the work of artists and scholars documenting and validating their experiences. Diaz described some of the opportunities that had shaped his trajectory as an artist and educator. He notes, that “None of this was DEI at the time… but I come into this business through a lot of culturally specific programs.” For example, he pointed to the Hispanic Playwrights Project at the South Coast Repertory Theatre (1986-2004) as one of his first big professional moments ( Hispanic Playwrights Project History | South Coast Repertory ). He recalls, “At that time (2003) I had just gotten out of graduate school, and I was selected to develop my play, Welcome to Arroyo’s at South Coast. They brought out four playwrights… It was me Karen Zacarias, Carlos Murillo and Quiara Alegria Huides, which was just craziness. Amazing [to work with] Quiara right before she exploded on the scene. So that was a great game-changing opportunity for me.” For Diaz, the moment meant more than a platform for his work. It meant a chance to work in a community of other artists developing new work in Latinx theatre. He praises Zacarias, who, “took me under her wing in a very conscious way…and grounded me and hipped me to the game.” Through the SCR program Diaz connected with people who would become lifelong colleagues, including Michael John Garcés and Jaime Castañeda. Diaz was open about his anxieties of entering spaces being framed in certain ways, “I was hesitant of Latino spaces, because I don't speak Spanish. I'm very, very, very Americanized. I consider my cultural heritage to be New York City as much as I consider it to be anything else. So, I always have a little bit of that concern in those kinds of spaces. And what was really fantastic about the Hispanic Playwrights Project was, it made me understand that this community was supportive of everyone , from all different kinds of backgrounds.” For Diaz, the community at SCR focused on telling stories, rather than judging artists, and “I got over that fear and self- loathing that I have for never having learned Spanish.” In looking back over the network of relationships that have supported his work, Diaz muses, “I don’t know that it necessarily falls under the big picture sort of formalized DEI work, but it's been so fundamental to my success,” and to understanding, “how this business and how this community works.” Diaz added that his experiences have helped him to realize that it is in fact important to name the work as part of a commitment to diversity, equity, inclusion, and justice: “If you’re in the work, you have to name the work.” Looking back at the way DEIJ work has shaped his career, like Diaz, Ambush noted, “Back then, we didn’t call it DEI, but that’s essentially what it was.” Ambush described his efforts in the 1980s and 1990s to create more inclusive theatre spaces but pointed to the challenges he and other like-minded artists of color faced in the process, even among what he describes as “ethnically specific theatres.” It was a constant fight for legitimacy and recognition. When Eurocentric companies did do work related to Black experiences, he argues that they often resorted to the same small collection of “safe” well-known works, such as A Raisin in the Sun , To Kill a Mockingbird , Driving Miss Daisy, and works by Athol Fugard. Reflecting back on the DEI productions of the 1980s, Ambush said, “I'm going to talk about Black folks for a moment, but I also mean by, extension, all people of color: There are palatable, comfortable explorations of plays that have Black people in them that are for white people, and there are plays with Black people in them that speak to Black people.” And Ambush points to the crucial absences of productions from the repertoires of Asian American, Latinx, and Indigenous voices. Like Ambush, Young pays attention to representation in the mainstream media and recognizable stages for artists of the global majority. He described the brief, post-2020 surge in the presence of Black playwrights on Broadway, even though, as he notes, many of those shows closed early because of audiences’ COVID-related reluctance to come back into performance spaces. Young also notes the ratio of Pulitzer Prizes for drama vs. Tony Awards over the past decade, arguing, “There’s a notable difference. The community of scholars and critics have been more likely to recognize the works of BIPOC artists than the theatre industry itself.” As a scholar of theatre, awards offer an important index for Young in tracking the kinds of voices and stories that institutions want to lift up (since 2016, the majority of the Pulitzer Prizes for Drama have been awarded to artists of color: https://www.pulitzer.org/prize-winners-by-category/218 ). Have you encountered resistance to DEIJ work? How did you navigate it? What does this resistance to DEIJ cultivate for the field? Ambush reflected on his brief tenure with TheatreVirginia in Richmond, VA (LORT C). He says, “It was a short tenure only 18 months… I was teaching at California State University, Monterey Bay at the time, and living in California when I got the job. Richmond is the former capital of the Confederacy and that theater was about forty-seven years old then. I was still working in California when the newspapers announced that I was the new hire. They put my picture in the paper and before I showed up in town to begin my work, people started canceling their subscriptions, and when I physically arrived in town, there was hate mail waiting for me.” Ambush remembers, “I had a lot of people fearful that I would turn it into a ‘Black theater’ before I had even done anything.” He describes how he navigated the challenge, “I held a number of Town Hall meetings where I was trying to get to know my new community and vice versa, and to allay their fears.” He adds, “There was a lot of tension in the room during those meetings (two of them)…When I mentioned that among the few plays written by people of color that TheatreVirginia had ever done was A Raisin in the Sun , I had one white community member say, ‘Well, so what difference does that make?’” After that comment Ambush says, “I finally had one brave young woman say, “I'll tell you how my grandmother, who's not here, feels about it. She said she's afraid that because [Ambush] is here, that she will no longer be welcome as a white person.” Ambush responded, “So I told that woman, ‘Thank you for saying that, now we can get to work. Now I see where you're stuck. It's out in the open. Now I can address it’.” Coming into that environment, Ambush also remembers that he “inherited a season,” but that because of the controversy over his appointment, artists started to “bail” on the company. He made two changes to the season: canceling one play and substituting Lynn Nottage’s Crumbs from the Table of Joy for Rebecca Gilman’s Spinning Into Butter . The Virginia Chronicle described it as a “good choice” for Ambush’s debut with the company, noting that the “stunned audience was abuzz in the lobby” after Act One. The paper also pointed to Ambush as, “The first African-American to hold the post [of Producing Artistic Director] in the theatre’s 47-year history.” ( Richmond Free Press 28 February 2002 — Virginia Chronicle: Digital Newspaper Archive ). For Ambush, shifting representation onstage and among the audience at TheatreVirginia was a crucial part of his mission: “60% of the population of Richmond was Black, and they never felt invited at that theatre. So, I said, I'm changing that perception. I had people accuse me of an agenda. Almost any person of color that has taken any of these artistic leadership positions in historically white theaters faces this white fear projected on the difference-maker.” Despite his efforts, “The board shut the theater down 17 months after I took over and closed it. They hired me to make a difference. That was the whole point of me being there. I guess it wasn't the difference that they wanted.” Ambush also described another, more insidious resistance that he and other Black colleagues experience on a regular basis, “I'm a director, and I have freelanced off and on all my career. I often only hear from theatres for the Black History month show, and only for Black shows. The other eleven months of the year…crickets.” Ambush calls this the “ghettoizing” of Black artists and hails Jack O’Brien for bringing him to the Old Globe in San Diego multiple times to direct works that were not “Black shows.” Similarly, he pointed to Gloucester Stage in Massachusetts, where he had the opportunity to direct Peter Shaffer’s Lettice and Lovage and Brian Friel’s Dancing at Lughnasa . Yet, Ambush argues that his choices to direct shows outside the repertoire of Black authors sometimes drew criticism from both within and beyond the Black community. Some Black audiences, “questioned the degree of my Blackness,” while “white people [said] that I was confused and didn't know my own mind.” He recognizes that, “meanwhile my white artistic director counterparts down the road can do whatever they want and be celebrated for the breadth and depth of their vision.” As Ambush contends, “There always seems to be a double standard for historically disenfranchised artists and that includes women, anybody who's not of the dominant male, Christian, heterosexual, cisgendered population. You're less than, lower than, the collateral damage to white supremacy. White men are entitled to be in charge because they are seen to be divinely endowed with gifts superior to anybody else’s.” He adds, “That’s what we're seeing right now. What's happening in our country now is driven by that same impulse, we’re just using different terms.” Young’s observations echo Ambush’s as he described the challenge in perceptions around hiring artists from the global majority. He describes hearing friends, who are white artists, say that they “cannot” be hired for particular roles because there’s “great pressure to hire a person of color.” Young expressed concern with this phrasing, “Because the narrative of inclusion gets reframed as something being ‘taken away’ without acknowledging the biases that previously denied qualified artists of color opportunities.” For Young, this represents a misperception of what it means to bring diversity, equity, inclusion, and justice to U.S. society. It also points to a critical failure of imagination: the inability to recognize that absence of certain voices harms the greater community. As an educator, Young recognizes that there are a lot of talented artists of all backgrounds and that theatre companies should be “proactive in their outreach.” Theatre companies should not only wait until a member of a traditionally marginalized community “walks in the door.” Those individuals who claim that there “just aren’t any” artists of the global majority (for example), are “being willfully blind to the circumstances that created a condition of exclusion.” It is equally important for companies to be vocal in their desire to hire the best artists regardless of their backgrounds. Bial dissected the differences between big-picture resistance to DEIJ work (at the national or state level) vs. what individuals might experience in their home institutions, “I think that that big picture resistance is, in a sense much easier to deal with because the lines are clearly drawn and perhaps they're very nakedly partisan…The trickier ones, right are the resistance that presents itself as ‘reasonable’ or ‘necessary’.” For example, Bial cites pressure to develop theatrical repertoires with easy name recognition. In the process, “You are making assumptions about who your audience is, or who your audience is going to be.” He notes that kind of bias surfaces in season planning when people may contend that a certain play didn’t draw a large audience in the past, using that as a rationale for not doing another play by an artist of color, a woman, a member of the LGBTQ+ community, etc. And he talks about the need to be the person in the room to remind decision-makers that those kinds of generalizations don’t get applied to cis-gendered white male artists in the same way. “One flop of a play by a white man never scares a theatre company away from doing all plays by white men.” Bial also discussed the impact of prestige bias in hiring for U.S. theatre at both the professional and educational level, and the harm caused by the assumption that a candidate with a specific set of institutional credentials is automatically more qualified than another with possibly less well-known credentials. Bial adds, “I feel like I've been able to advocate in these very small rooms,” where he has had the opportunity to point out implicit or unconscious biases, “And to [people’s] credit, the resistance usually evaporates once you can take it out and put it on the table and name it. These aren't people who are cynically using these objections to advance a racist or transphobic agenda. These are people who simply haven't had the tools or the experience to see those blind spots.” Bial described pursuing training that has helped him navigate his own biases and develop the tools to call others into the work. Marra described first-hand experiences of bias and resistance in her scholarship on LGBTQ+ artists, “Well, certainly, when Bob Schanke and I started out with the idea for Passing Performances in the early 1990s we met a great deal of resistance.” In Marra’s case, colleagues with a vision for a more just and inclusive field helped to support her work, “The heroic LeAnn Fields was the editor we were working with at Michigan, and she not only supported our project, but she strategically navigated the system to help move it forward.” As Marra describes, “She set up a series called Triangulations in order to bring on Jill Dolan and David Román as editors, and have that layer of advocacy for the project” ( Triangulations: Lesbian/Gay/Queer Theater/Drama/Performance (Series) . Dolan and Román helped with the pushback from the Board about “outing” American artists of the distant past. As Marra emphasizes, “We weren’t in people’s bedrooms… so we were trying to track networks of affiliation. Who people worked with, what the lifestyles were of these folks in terms of where they lived, who they lived with for any length of time, what they did for each other.” Marra points to what has now become a standard practice in contemporary theatre research, but which encountered resistance almost thirty years ago, “You begin to see patterns that allow you to argue that that certain desires were informing these connections and informing the aesthetics of the shows they sought to do.” Marra sees the resistance to the project as a reluctance to acknowledge the full diversity and intersectionality of U.S. theatre history and credits the imagination and determination of senior colleagues who advocated for that more honest history. A blurb from Oscar Brockett on the back jacket of Passing Performances when it was published in 1998 powerfully endorsed these pioneering efforts. Diaz suggests that DEIJ activism in theatre often meets with resistance when people fear that they’re “going to be told that their approach is wrong, or problematic, or hurtful.” He has seen that defensive mode emerge and understands that it can create obstacles in doing the work. He described his own experience of realizing that he lacked awareness in critical areas and acknowledging that he would never be able to know, see, or understand the experience of every marginalized community member. However, for him, this offered a prompt to focus on the critical questions that shape conversations around identity and help to build a shared vocabulary about the importance of diversity, equity, inclusion, and justice as action items, rather than nouns. Can you name some individuals or institutions whose DEIJ work has served as a successful model for your career? Interestingly, Ambush focused on the organizations, “not necessarily looking for attention, but just doing the work in their communities and embracing them.” He hailed the theatre companies that imagined diversity, equity, inclusion, and justice as, “part of their mission, not as an attachment or an add-on when funding became available all of a sudden. This has been an issue in some of the theaters I've worked at.” Ambush expressed appreciation for the groups that lean into hyper-localized work. He clarified that while they may be flying under a national radar, they’re not “hiding” their mission. Instead of “boasting and bragging, they do … Those are my kind of people.” Ambush pointed to the Los Angeles Inner City Cultural Center ( image ), which he says, “from its inception was always about all of Los Angeles.” He also pointed to La MaMa and the work of Ellen Stewart for the pioneering work in welcoming so many voices into the community ( www.innercityculturalcenter.org/our-history.html and https://www.lamama.org/ ). He offered Mixed Blood and the San Francisco Mime Troupe as additional examples. Ambush also spoke movingly about the struggles to find a role model for the kind of work he wanted to do early in his career, “I went to my mentor, George Bass, in despair saying, I'm dreaming about these things (artistically lead a LORT theatre), but I don't see anybody out there that looks like me as a role model. Bass said, ‘You have to become a role model for other people and dare to be great,’ which is what I've been trying to do ever since. I might have felt better and more encouraged if I had seen other examples at least at the LORT level; there have always been artistic directors of color and of different races, cultures, genders and sexualities in other categories of theaters that were not LORT they've always been there. But at the LORT level, I didn’t see them.” As part of his mission to be a model for others, Ambush has contributed articles on non-traditional casting and has long been an activist in that arena. As he comments, “We didn't say DEI back then in the seventies or eighties, or even in the sixties. We had a Black Arts movement, and other human rights movements. All those movements were happening in the sixties and early seventies when I came of age—ERA, free speech, the American Indian movement, Black Power, anti-Viet Nam war protests, women’s liberation. It was a very active, vital, and violent time.” In describing his models for success, Young focused on individuals who have impressed him. For example, he pointed to Crystal Williams, the President of the prestigious Rhode Island School of Design ( https://www.risd.edu/about/leadership/about-crystal-williams ). As he commented, “She might be the most articulate person I've encountered who can talk persuasively about the work of equity and inclusion in manner that does not posit diversity as a bad word and thinks justice is part of a larger narrative of solutions to exclusion.” Young also saluted the Black theatre companies in Boston, Chicago, New York, DC, Philadelphia, and elsewhere that have labored to create and expand community of all backgrounds, even as he noted that many now face challenges to their survival due to funding cuts, lack of stable leadership, or post-COVID challenges. In looking at local arts organizations near his own institutional home of Boston University, he pointed to the award-winning Front Porch Arts Collective of Boston, which identifies as, “A black theatre company committed to advancing racial equity in Boston through theatre” ( https://www.frontporcharts.org/ ) In thinking about models for diversity, equity, inclusion, and justice throughout his career, Bial cited his training at NYU’s Performance Studies program in the 1990s because of the ways it encouraged scholars to explore performance cultures in Africa and Asia, cultivating what he described as a kind of “utopian interculturalism.” He appreciated the ways that a curriculum that didn’t focus on traditional works and knowledge created space for new kinds of knowing. And while Bial notes that the original work launched by Richard Schechner has been nuanced by the scholarship of the past thirty years, as Bial says, the original vision was “inspirational.” He also points to, “The important work on queer theater and performance art with Peggy Phelan and Fred Moten on the ways in which certain types of power structures are built into the university, and how we navigate those.” Bial adds, “I feel like really fortunate to have had different models . . . they were considered dangerously radical in 1995.” As Bial contends, he found it liberating to see, “the way they made space in the curriculum for all of these other voices that had previously been excluded in the conversation through the simple expedient of saying, ‘You know what? Who cares if we read Shaw? Who cares about the weight of the stones in the theater of Dionysus? We’re going to [explore] all this other stuff. And if we neglect Arthur Miller, well, it’ll be OK.” Bial also sees his non-traditional path into Theatre Studies as part of his penchant for thinking outside the box in curriculum development, “I've often found it very liberating that I don't actually have any degrees in theater. I have one in folklore and mythology, and two in performance studies, and therefore I am not tied down to any particular idea of what has to be in a theatre curriculum.” Bial credits his students with teaching him about how to put the values of DEIJ work into practice. He says, “My tenure track job was at University of New Mexico, which is a Title V Hispanic Serving Institution.” There he taught a compositionally-diverse community of Hispanic, Anglo, and Indigenous students. “Teaching in that environment made me much more aware of these issues of representation and made me much more up to speed on the kind of writers and performers who had that experience.” As Bial acknowledges, he also struggled with the challenge of not representing the majority identity positions of his students (nor did anyone else in his department at the time). But, he says, “I bonded with a lot of these students simply by virtue of being the one closest to them in age, and so that that was really very helpful.” He describes similar experiences at his current institution, KU, where, as he suggests, it’s easier to deal with DEIJ questions in some sense, “because as a public institution we explicitly have the mandate to serve everyone.” At the end of the day, Bial also argues that schools should, “not be premised on exclusivity, on how many people we turn down . . . That’s another way of freeing us up from some of those past biases or removing obstacles to doing the work you want to do.” And as theatre programs across the country labor to increase enrollments, creating inclusive environments will prove crucial to that process. Marra focused on the need to create and support opportunities for diversity, equity, inclusion, and justice at the local level—both on college campuses and in the communities that house them. She also spoke emotionally of the ways that senior colleagues can and should protect junior scholars whose careers might be more vulnerable based on their identities or their research. Marra’s “pay it forward” model of mentorship invites people to commit to their DEIJ service at the individual and daily level. She spoke from the perspective of putting together the 100-year anniversary history of her department, since, as she observed wryly, “I was here for a third of that time.” She pointed to the importance of creating an inclusive environment in the most literal sense—ensuring that students and junior colleagues see representation in the classrooms and halls they navigate on a daily basis. She described transforming the department at Iowa, which had, prior to 2021, been replete with headshots of past faculty and alums, and which, “was like a sea of white male dominance,” without any history of the department to give context. The department elected to create a digital gallery that will now have more space to support the stories of BIPOC and LGBTQ+ faculty and alums, as well as continuing to document the history of the program’s past, such as its longstanding connections with HBCUs that brought students to the Iowa MFA program ( https://theatre.uiowa.edu/alumni ). Perhaps not surprisingly, as a lifelong theatre historian, Marra understands the importance of drawing out the nuances of our histories. Diaz emphasized the need to model multiple kinds of storytelling and to cultivate a diversity of perspectives— particularly in academic settings. He observed, “In academia we do not see people across the political spectrum. That's just a fact. We just don't see it. I don't see a lot of people from certain parts of the country. We need to do a better job. The world needs to do a better job of understanding the diversity of the United States. The United States is so many things... So, I do think there's value in the interrogation about what we mean when we ask for diversity.” However, as Diaz argues, those questions need to be posed in good faith . And like Ambush and Bial, he raised the question of who is allowed to write, direct, or tell certain stories. For example, he described wanting to “just write the story about the family that gets together on the holidays and rehashes old shit. Not [to] talk about our immigration status. That may or may not be the thing that we have to talk about. But the primary thing I want to talk about is what the relationships are if the relationships are colored by those other things. That's great. But I don’t want to be pinned into that corner.” With that in mind, he admits, that he does get “nervous sometimes around the DEI work,” if it seems to be putting limits on the kinds of stories he can tell. As a role model for work in diversity, equity, and inclusion, he pointed to an experience with Minnesota’s Mixed Blood Theatre Company ( https://mixedblood.com/ ). They invited him to be part of a 2016 project called DJ Latinidad Big Latin Dance Party . A number of writers came to craft short plays and produce them over the course of a night. ( Image, DJ Latinidad ) Diaz recalls, “I didn’t know what to write. I had a 2-year-old son at that point, and I said to him, ‘Let's make something together.’ He gave me a bunch of random baby names for characters, and it was just nonsense and baby language, like the chaos of being a little kid. And I took that, and I wrote a short play about it, and it was called Lemon Jackson , and it had no ‘cultural’ anything in it. And we put it in the show. Artist-in-Residence, Mark Valdez was the person [coordinating the show] and Jack Reuler (Artistic Director) was still there at the time, and both of them said, ‘This is great, this is this is what we want’.” ( https://www.markevaldez.com/ and https://mixedblood.com/about/history/ ). But as Diaz remembers, “Some of the audience members were the people who asked, ‘Why is this in this show? You're not talking about language. You're not talking about immigration. You're not talking about Abuelita . You're not talking about food. You're not hitting any of those markers.’” Diaz appreciated the way that the theatre’s directors and the actors stood up for him, declaring, “It's a Latino story, because it was written by a Latino man and his half Latino son. And we get to tell those stories, too.” Diaz’s experience reminded him of the need to make sure that definitions of what constitutes “diversity” don’t become so narrowly focused that they ultimately exclude voices and stories. How do you envision the future of your DEIJ work in the US, and what can you do to help artists and scholars sustain equity and inclusion in the US cultural landscape? How do people in positions of power/influence sustain this work? Marra returned to her theme of genealogies, and the need to make the generational work of campaigning for diversity, equity, inclusion, and justice visible to younger artists and scholars. That visibility and sense of legacy can counter a sense of despair and isolation. It can also create a sense of momentum and agency. Speaking from her perspective as a historian focusing on LGBTQ+ narratives, Marra reminded scholars and artists to always query the archive for what it reveals and what it conceals. She described the ways in which narratives have often been “straightened,” another process that generates a sense of isolation in queer communities. As artists and scholars, we have opportunities to resist that impulse. As Marra says, “There are stories I want to share that moved me and moved the field and if we don't share them, how will this be known?” Bial commented candidly, “As a straight white guy, I have a ton of unearned privilege. What am I going to do with it?” In answer to his own question, he makes himself vulnerable to critique by building inclusive programming in his curriculum and by representing a compositionally diverse array of voices and experiences. With his characteristic humor, he notes, “That doesn’t make me Rosa Parks,” adding, “I've definitely made some mistakes, and that's where you trust the students to tell you if you've created a culture where they feel comfortable.” He also reminded educators that claiming a certain area was outside their comfort zone or expertise was a feeble excuse for not doing the work, “No one would ever come into a class and say, ‘I haven't really bothered to read any of the literature about this Shakespeare guy, but I got hold of this play last week, and I wanted to mix up the syllabus’.” And as unthinkable as that example sounds, he observes, “I have occasionally seen people do that with a ‘diversity’ play” as a way to sidestep their own insecurities about making “mistakes” in grappling with complicated material. Bial challenges himself with the reminder that, “Any of my discomfort is so trivial relative to living as a queer person or person of color under this sort of end-stage capitalism that we're in, that I should just shut up and do the thing.” Diaz questioned the concept of “merit” being substituted for diversity, equity, inclusion, and justice—as though the terms were somehow incompatible or functioned in opposition to each other. “Meritocracy sounds great in the arts.” But he pushes back against the concept that there can be an “objective” standard for art because that supposed impartiality elides the very structures and systems that have kept some stories relegated to the margins. As Diaz argues, “One of the things that I value when I read a new play is, have I seen this play before? Have I heard this voice before? Because what I'm interested in in new plays especially is someone giving me a perspective on the world that changes the way that I think about it. So, there is something fundamentally meritorious in that .” Diaz’s goals for the future included prompts for theatre companies to imagine seasons with more than one voice or one perspective on an identity. He points to the danger of having one season slot for Latinx artists, one slot for Indigenous artists, one slot for Black artists, etc., saying, “It's putting us in a position where we feel like we are in competition with each other.” Moving forward, Diaz hopes to see seasons that might feature multiple authors from a particular group in the global majority as a way to expand the range of stories told and voices represented. He imagined a space where artistic directors would have the confidence to program an entire season of (for example) Latinx artists. For Diaz, engaging with multiple voices from specific communities represents a kind of “intellectual and artistic honesty,” rather than imagining that one artist speaks for an entire community. He also challenges companies that don’t want to represent artists from the global majority or traditionally marginalized communities to be honest about it. This circles back to his theme of merit. Rather than pretending that a certain play isn’t as good as one by a canonical (white) author, “I think it is about being like honest about what it is that you do and what you believe. I wouldn't be shocked if over the next few years, we see some theater companies start to remove that language [DEIJ] and feel like they're freeing themselves from that.” He notes that “there is a very viable business plan that is not centered around diversity” in certain communities. Diaz adds, “If you want to do that, I encourage you to be brave and be upfront about what it is that you actually do. So that for the people for whom equity in representation is an issue, we know either, ‘Okay, we're not welcome here. I'm not going to bother submitting my plays to you’.” While that may offer an uncomfortable truth, for Diaz, honesty at least counters the fallacy of a meritocracy in the arts. In imagining how to sustain diversity, equity, inclusion, and justice in U.S. theatre, Ambush declared, “Try not to be afraid. Try not to be cowed. Try not to self-censor. Try not to obey in advance. Try not to alter already.” Ambush reminds us, “Resistance is needed. Double down. Don't buy into fear. Stake your claim in the work you do and on your terms. Take back the definitions that were there to begin with. I'm at the age now where I’m not going to stop. I fought my whole life for legitimacy. The same kind of legitimacy that my white counterparts have had their whole lives. To have people now say, ‘Oh, we're bringing back the colorless society’—colorblindness never works. Don't tell me you don't see a black face. I've heard all my life, ‘Oh, Benny, when I see you, I don't see a Black person.’ Bullshit. Yes, you do.” Ambush demanded, “We have to go the other way, have to lean into it and proclaim proudly who we are in our difference, in our specificity, and insist upon an equal place at the table, a different paradigm that is horizontal, not vertical. It's a scary time right now. Personally, I'm not changing me. That may mean there'd be some projects I turn down. I've done that before. I can't live a lie, and I'm not hiding. I'm not going into anybody's closet. That's a decision that many organizations and individuals have to face now.” Ambush understands what a terrifying and uncertain moment people may be in right now, “How are you going to respond to this? I say, get courage by looking at what people who came before us did. They stood up and they fought. It's a shame that we still have to fight. But it's the same issues. The idea of America is a work in progress, and we may lose it. We're in the process of losing it right now. Can we survive it? And can we come back from it? I don't know. But right now, what's happening is how democracies die... and the dream of true equality without sacrificing difference or apologizing for difference is threatened.” Young echoed Ambush’s theme, “History should not be edited in such a way that the contributions of whole groups of people disappear. Structures and institutions should not be operated in a manner that denies the possibilities of a person's identity. How do you continue to advocate for a person being themselves especially in a climate in which just the fact of their own being is contested and threatened?” Young pointed to the “long history” of moments when societies move towards inclusion, “and then the rock rolls back down the hill.” And while he admits it can be heart-wrenching when you realize that “The pushing, the work, the labor needs to continue.” But, he added with hope, “In those moments you acknowledge that the progress you made is because there were some people who were there before carrying some of the burden.” Underscoring the generations of labor that have gone into the struggle for diversity, equity, inclusion, and justice, he said, “Those people are tired now. Some will continue to push on. Some are no longer with us. And some just need a break.” And when the people who have been in the fight need to take a breath, others need to be ready to step forward. Young admits, “that’s the hard part.” As an educator, Young can’t let go of the fight for access to education and of the right for people to express their identities freely and without fear. And while he has seen academic discourse shift over time as terms such as “gender” and “diversity” continue to evolve, he warns against the wholesale erasure of words from our teaching vocabularies. “Words that are meant to be inclusive get redefined to be exclusive.” Or words that the society has valued suddenly acquire pejorative meanings or become weaponized like “woke” or “diversity” or “justice.” As Young observes, “That’s something that raises an eyebrow . . . But this is why the work we do matters.” And at the end of the day, for Young, artists and educators can use whatever words they need, “to carry on the work, because ultimately that work is not divisive. That work is just meant to bring more people to the table.” Conclusion The Roundtable participants spoke with passion, candor, and commitment. They see the struggle that lies ahead. As veterans of many earlier struggles, they shared their faith that artists and scholars can continue to do the transformative work of diversity, equity, inclusion, and justice if we remember that we never have to be alone in the work, and that we can call on each other for support and courage along the way. References Footnotes [1] For more on "the queer unfinished," see Ryan Adelsheim, “Unfinished: Queer & Trans Identity Development on the American Stage,” PhD diss., Yale University, 2025. About The Author(s) BENNY SATO AMBUSH is a theatre director, educator, and Artistic Director of Venice Theatre in Florida. A member of the Stage Directors and Choreographers Society, he has directed professionally at leading regional theatres including the Old Globe, American Conservatory Theater, Oregon Shakespeare Festival, South Coast Repertory, and Alabama Shakespeare Festival. Ambush has held major leadership and faculty positions at Emerson College, TheatreVirginia, Oakland Ensemble Theatre, Brown University, and NYU’s Graduate Acting Program. His extensive national service includes work with the National Endowment for the Arts, Theatre Communications Group, and the Kennedy Center. He holds an MFA in Directing from the University of California, San Diego, and a BA from Brown University. HENRY BIAL is Professor and Chair in the Department of Theatre and Dance at the University of Kansas. He is a past President of the Association for Theatre in Higher Education (ATHE) and a Fellow of the Mid-America Theatre Conference. He is the author of Acting Jewish: Negotiating Ethnicity on the American Stage and Screen and Playing God: The Bible on the Broadway Stage , and the editor or co-editor of Brecht Sourcebook, Theater Historiography: Critical Interventions, The Great North American Stage Directors, Vol. 4: Abbott, Carroll, Prince, and The Performance Studies Reader , now in its fourth edition. KRISTOFFER DIAZ is a playwright, librettist, screenwriter, and educator whose work spans theatre, television, and musical adaptation. His play The Elaborate Entrance of Chad Deity was a finalist for the Pulitzer Prize in Drama, and his adaptation of Disney’s Hercules premiered at the Public Theater in 2019 as part of the Public Works program. His plays have been produced and developed at major institutions including The Public Theater, Goodman Theatre, and Oregon Shakespeare Festival. Diaz has written for Netflix’s GLOW and developed pilots for HBO and FX. He teaches playwriting at New York University. JAVIER HURTADO is a playwright, director, and performance historian. He has served on editorial teams for the Journal of American Drama and Theatre and Drama’s Special Issue: Milestones in Black Theatre , the College of Fellows of the American Theatre’s Gazette, and the University of Iowa Press’ Studies in Theater, History, and Culture book series. Javier earned an MFA in Writing for Performance from the University of California, Riverside, a Ph.D. in Theatre and Performance Studies from Tufts University and is currently a faculty member in Saint Mary's College of California’s Department of Performing Arts. KIM MARRA is Professor Emeritus of Theatre Arts and American Studies at the University of Iowa. Her books include Strange Duets: Impresarios and Actresses in the American Theatre, 1865-1914 (2006; Callaway Prize winner) and the co-edited volumes Passing Performances: Queer Readings of Leading Players in American Theater History (1998), its sequel Staging Desire (2002), The Gay and Lesbian Theatrical Legacy (2005), and Showing Off, Showing Up: Studies of Hype, Heightened Performance, and Cultural Power (2017). Her interspecies scholarship comprises essays, performances, exhibits, and documentary film. Since 2017, she has co-directed the Animal Studies Summer Institute at University of Illinois Urbana-Champaign. HEATHER S. NATHANS is a professor in the Department of Theatre, Dance, and Performance Studies and the Nathan and Alice Gantcher Professor in Judaic Studies. Her publications include: Early American Theatre from the Revolution to Thomas Jefferson (2003); Slavery and Sentiment on the American Stage, 1787-1861 (2009); and Hideous Characters and Beautiful Pagans: Performing Jewish Identity on the Antebellum American Stage (2017). Nathans has received the Barnard Hewitt Award (ASTR), the John W. Frick Award (ATDS), and the Betty Jean Jones Award (ATDS). In 2023 she was named as a member of the College of Fellows of the American Theatre. Nathans serves as the Editor of the award-winning Studies in Theatre History and Culture series with the University of Iowa Press. HARVEY YOUNG is Dean of the College of Fine Arts and Interim Vice President for the Arts at Boston University, where he is Professor of English, Theatre Arts, and African American and Black Diaspora Studies. An author and editor of ten books, his most recent is Theatre and Human Flourishing (Oxford University Press, 2023). A nationally recognized scholar and arts leader, Young has appeared across major media outlets including CNN, NPR, and the New York Times . Former president of the Association for Theatre in Higher Education, he serves on numerous arts boards and policy committees. Young holds a PhD from Cornell University and is a Fellow of the American Theatre. Journal of American Drama & Theatre JADT publishes thoughtful and innovative work by leading scholars on theatre, drama, and performance in the Americas – past and present. Provocative articles provide valuable insight and information on the heritage of American theatre, as well as its continuing contribution to world literature and the performing arts. Founded in 1989 and previously edited by Professors Vera Mowry Roberts, Jane Bowers, and David Savran, this widely acclaimed peer reviewed journal is now edited by Dr. Benjamin Gillespie and Dr. Bess Rowen. Journal of American Drama and Theatre is a publication of the Martin E. Segal Theatre Center. Visit Journal Homepage Table of Contents - Current Issue Introduction Fat Suits and Fat Futures: Ob*sity Drag in The Whale “The Star of the Aggregation”: Maggie Calloway’s Performances of Aggregation and Pleasure in Colonial Manila and British Malaya What’s at Stake? Sustaining DEIJ in U.S. Theatre "The Gift That Keeps on Giving": An Interview with Carmelita Tropicana Saying The F Word: A Conversation with Jordan Tannahill Staging Intimacy and Paradox through a Queer Lens: A Conversation with Jen Silverman Decentered Playwriting: Alternative Techniques for the Stage. Edited by Carolyn M. Dunn, Eric Micha Holmes, and Les Hunter. New York: Routledge, 2024; Pp. 212. Race and the Forms of Knowledge: Technique, Identity, and Place in Artistic Research. Ben Spatz. Evanston: Northwestern University Press, 2024; Pp. 314. Bloody Tyrants & Little Pickles: Stage Roles of Anglo-American Girls in the Nineteenth Century. Marlis Schweitzer. Iowa City: University of Iowa Press, 2020; Pp. 276. Redface: Race, Performance, and Indigeneity. Bethany Hughes. New York: New York University Press, 2024; Pp. 272. The Brothers Size Dead Outlaw 2025 Oregon Shakespeare Festival ZAZ Introduction: New England Theatre in Review 2.0 Greater Boston’s Independent Theatres, 2024-25 Politics Take Center Stage in the Berkshires, 2024-25 Long Wharf Theatre, 2024-25 Previous Next Attribution: This entry is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 4.0 International license.

Back to Top Article References Authors Keep Reading < Back Arab Stages 14 Spring 2023 Volume Visit Journal Homepage Crossing Borders: A Theatre Practitioner’s Odyssey, An Interview with Hassan El Geretly By Iman Ezzeldin Published: November 26, 2023 Download Article as PDF The author with Hassan El Geretly. Photo courtesy of Alaa Yehia. Crossing Borders: A Theatre Practitioner’s Odyssey, An Interview with Hassan El Geretly By Iman Ezzeldin Hassan El Geretly is a theatre director who has also worked in cinema. He studied theatre and French literature at the University of Bristol (U.K.). He then got a higher diploma in audio-visual staging (cinema, video and radio) at the Sorbonne University in Paris. He has worked in the fields of theatre and cinema since the 1970's in France, then in Egypt. He worked as an actor, assistant director, and then as director in the Centre Dramatique National du Limousin in France. He founded the touring theatre company Les Tréteaux de la Terre et du Vent that toured in France between 1975 and 1980. In 1987, El Geretly founded El Warsha theatre company in Egypt. In 1988, he was appointed director of the first experimental theatre in Cairo. He resigned in 1992 to devote himself entirely to independent theatre. EL Warsha, the first independent company in Egypt, creates contemporary theatre works, and tours them locally and internationally. With a career spanning over 40 years as a director, dramaturge, and actor, Hassan El Geretly has been a pioneer in the realm of independent theater, reviving old traditions while embracing modern techniques. His artistic journey has left an indelible mark on the theatrical landscape, challenging conventions and inspiring countless artists along the way (1). Iman Ezzeldin: Good morning, Hassan. Could we start with your work at the Centre Dramatique National De Limousin? Hasan El Geretly: Of course. After graduating from the University of Bristol, I had the opportunity to work at the Centre Dramatique National De Limousin. It's an independent company based in Limoges, the capital of the Limousin region, that is recognized and subsidized by the state to operate outside of Paris. The company's main goal is to decentralize the cultural scene in France and shift it away from being solely centered in Paris. I worked there from 1972 to 1980, which was truly a transformative experience. Limousin, also known as "Le Désert Français," is sparsely populated due to migration and industrialization. Working in different governorates in the region was like an apprenticeship for me. I gained valuable experience and insights into French theatre and culture. During my time there, I worked as an actor, assistant director, and administrative staff member. Eventually, I became second-in-command and established my touring company Les Tréteaux de la Terre et du Vent, in 1975. This experience at the Centre Dramatique De Limousin shaped my perspective on decentralization and exploring different regions and cultures. It influenced my perspective on eventually returning to Egypt and seeking to move out of the centralized Cairo theatre scene to explore other provinces. IE: I've heard so much about your experiences in France and how they influenced your work in Egypt. I'd love to hear more about the "veillées" nights? Geretly: The "veillées" nights were inspired by the traditional concept of staying up late. In Limousin, these nights held a special significance as people would engage in various evening activities, such as singing, storytelling, and even working on tasks like mending socks. We aimed to recreate these nights through theatre, incorporating stories, songs and plays adapted from other regions that had a strong regional movement. For example, we adapted a play called Villages á Vendre or "Villages for Sale" from the nearby city of Marseille. The play focused on the invasion of rural areas by tourists from different countries who occupied the houses left abandoned by local peasants. We incorporated Limousin singers who performed songs in the regional language, between the various scenes, narrating the story of the countryside invasion by tourists. It was a way to bring the spirit of the "veillées" nights and the cultural heritage of Limousin to life through theatre. During my time in Limousin, I had the opportunity to explore the connection between theatre and education to some extent. There were certain activities where we would go into schools and transform theatre from something confined to pages on a desk into a dynamic and interactive experience for the students. Before our visits, the kids had a limited understanding of theatre based solely on what they studied through works by renowned playwrights. However, our engagements were sporadic, occurring perhaps only once a year, which led to a gradual fade in the memory of our interactions. In contrast, when we established our own theatre and education activities in El Minya, Egypt, we consciously tried to create continuity and regular engagement with the same children. We would visit the same places and meet the same children regularly outside of the school context through associations. This meant seeing the kids once a week during the school year and for two days during the summer holidays. The results of these sustained interactions were dramatically different from our experiences in France. The deeper connections we formed with the children and the regular engagement allowed us to have a more significant and lasting impact on their lives through theatre and education. IE: It's incredible how regular and sustained engagement with the same children can make such a difference in their experience of theatre and education. Now, I'd love to hear more about your work in marginalized or economically disadvantaged areas and with special needs children. Can you elaborate on how these experiences differed from the more traditional theatre curriculum in schools? Geretly: Working in marginalized or economically disadvantaged areas and with children with special needs was a particularly fascinating experience for me. These classes often faced neglect from educational authorities and unique challenges related to their social and economic situations. These experiences differed from the more traditional theatre curriculum in schools, as they required a different approach and focus. What made these experiences particularly rewarding was the opportunity to work with children who might not have had access to or benefited from the traditional theatre curriculum. These were children who needed additional support and resources to thrive. We aimed to provide that support by engaging directly with them and fostering self-expression. IE: Your work in marginalized communities and with children with special needs highlights theatre's transformative power. Now, let's focus on your decision to return to Egypt. Can you tell me more about the incident behind your motivation to return home and how it influenced your decision? Geretly: The incident that triggered my motivation to return to Egypt occurred while I was walking behind the opera in Paris. I caught the aroma of Oriental pastries from an Armenian bakery, and in that moment, a strong sense of homesickness washed over me. It was a powerful reminder of my connection to my home country. Reflecting on all I had experienced and accomplished while abroad, I realized I needed to return home. Initially, I left Egypt to pursue my education, theatre training, and apprenticeship. I was disheartened by the oppressive nature of the police state during the 1960s and sought new opportunities and perspectives. However, deep down, I always knew that I would eventually return. The political and social climate in Egypt, including the failure of the regime and the 1967 defeat, significantly shaped my perspective. I felt a calling to contribute my skills and knowledge to my home country. Once I became a master of my trade, I viewed myself as a "plumber of art" who clears the pathway for actors to express themselves authentically. My focus shifted from talent to discovering the hidden actor, particularly through my exploration of clowning. Returning to Egypt, I felt like an autonomous artisan prepared to collaborate with my actors and team. During my home visits, I had already established connections and plans with individuals in Egypt. They played a significant role in shaping my decision to return. IE: It's incredible how specific moments and experiences can trigger a profound sense of belonging and motivate us to make important life decisions. Now, I'd like to touch on the influence of foreign theatre and film on your creative process. Can you tell me more about the impact of watching thousands of plays and films during your time in the U.K. and France on your imagination, passion, and creative work? Geretly: Watching thousands of plays and films during my 15 years in the U.K. and France profoundly impacted my creative process. It became a wellspring for my imagination, passion, emotions, and feelings—all crucial elements in the creative journey. Experiencing such a wide array of theatrical and cinematic works allowed me to broaden my artistic horizons and draw inspiration from different styles, genres, and cultures. It deepened my understanding of storytelling techniques, character development, and the power of visual and auditory elements in evoking emotions and creating impactful narratives. Each play and film I absorbed added a layer of richness to my creative arsenal. IE: I'd like to touch on your experiences working with renowned filmmakers like Youssef Chahine and Yousry Nasrallah. Can you tell me more about your collaborations with them and the impact they had on your career? Geretly: With Youssef Chahine, I had the opportunity to work as an assistant in the art department for his film Wadāʻan Būnābarṭ [Adieu Bonaparte, released 1985] My role involved coordinating the set, costumes, and props, with a primary focus on props. I also had the privilege of assisting in coordinating the French designers for the costumes. It was a valuable learning experience to collaborate on such a grand production. Also, with Chahine, I initially participated in co-writing the scenario for the film Al-Yawm al-sādis [The Sixth Day, released 1986]; however, I soon realized that my ideas and suggestions didn't align enough with Chahine's unique vision. While some elements from my work were incorporated, they didn't have an essential impact. So, I shifted my role and offered my assistance in helping him bring his vision to life. Chahine's distinct imagination and how he colors his world is his own, and I recognized that no one else could fully share that with him. As a result, I served as a scenario assistant and assisted in directing the actors. I also had the chance to work with Yousry Nasrallah, who was producing his first fiction film, “ Sariqāt Ṣayfiyyah" [Summer Thefts, released 1988], under the banner of Misr International Films. I suggested to Nasrallah that real people from everyday life should be considered for the main characters in the film, individuals who weren't necessarily from the realms of cinema or theatre but had unique qualities that could bring depth to the roles. This approach brought authenticity and richness to the film and allowed me to explore the intersection between documentary and dramatic storytelling. IE: I'd like to explore further the visual aspects of El Warsha's work. Your plays often have a fluid and cinematic quality, incorporating precise images and capturing moments of stillness and subtle movement. Can you tell me more about how you approach the visual elements in your productions and how they contribute to the overall theatrical experience? Geretly: In El Warsha, we strongly emphasize the visual elements of our productions. The sets we design are carefully crafted, paying attention to composition, lighting, and spatial dynamics. We create a sense of rhythm within the space by utilizing the empty spaces and the actors' bodies. The way we approach scenarios and train actors has a connection with cinema, even if not always consciously. I've always had a deep appreciation for the art of cinema, which began during my childhood when I used to go to local cinemas to watch films. This upbringing fostered my interest in imagery, composition, and capturing precise shots or moments. These influences are reflected in our work at El Warsha, where our plays are often described as a sequence of vivid pictures, incorporating moments of stillness and subtle forward movement. This cinematic quality allows us to create a unique visual experience for the audience, engaging them with the story and evoking emotions through carefully crafted images. IE: Let's discuss the origins of El Warsha and how it came to be. Can you tell me more about the journey that led to the establishment of El Warsha as a theatre company? Geretly: We started our journey in 1987 by reviving Nawbat ṣaḥyān [Geretly first staged Nawbat ṣaḥyān or Waking Up by Dario Fo and Franca Rame in 1983 with students from the Faculty of Arts at Cairo University] and Menha El Batrawy's wordless play Yamūt al-Mu'allim [The Teacher Dies, an adaptation of a French translation of Peter Hanke’s Das Mündel will Vormund sein ]. Starting our career as a theatre company with a wordless play was quite unconventional in the Egyptian and Arab context, as the theatre scene thrived on words, dialogue, and the explicit expression of ideas. It was a radical choice, although we didn't consciously make that decision. We continued to explore the power of words in plays by playwrights like Harold Pinter, Dario Fo, and Franca Rame, where violence, ambiguity, and conflicts were conveyed through explicit dialogue and subtext, body language, and moments of silence. Our plays became exercises in finding meaning in the spaces between and behind the words. We also had a deep commitment to expanding the theatrical vocabulary beyond words. We explored the use of scenography, which encompasses costumes, lighting, and other visual elements that contribute to the language of theatre. Our aim was to create a rich, multi-disciplinary theatrical experience encompassing the actors' presence and physicality, the interaction with selenography, stage space, rhythm, and the spoken words, all working together like a symphony. Our adaptations of various writers, from Peter Handke to Harold Pinter, allowed us to explore different ideas, linguistic experiments, and diverse artistic influences. We were gradually developing our theatrical vocabulary that went beyond words, drawing from a wide range of artistic expressions and weaving them into our productions. The incorporation of social and political commentary, without resorting to slogans, further enriched the fabric of our plays. Kafka's writings profoundly impacted my exploration of the dangers of military logic. His work delves into the dark corners of power structures and the absurdities that can arise from them. The play I created based on Kafka's vision allowed us to comment on our reality without directly referencing specific political figures or events. Kafka's characteristic mix of irony and nightmarish visions provided a powerful framework for exploring these themes. Metaphors played a crucial role in this exploration. Metaphor is at the heart of art as it allows us to express ideas indirectly and delve deeper into their implications. By utilizing metaphor in the play, we were able to create a layered and nuanced reflection on the paranoid, megalomaniac military logic that has engulfed us since 1952. It allowed us to comment on the profound realities of our society in an indirect yet impactful way. IE: Now, let's shift our focus to Alfred Jarry's work and its exploration of power dynamics. Geretly: Certainly. Alfred Jarry's work is a fascinating commentary on power dynamics within society. Ubu Roi uses Shakespearean characters like Hamlet and Macbeth to illustrate these dynamics in a satirical and provocative manner. The play originated from Jarry's experiences as a student and his observations of the power structures within the school he attended, delves into the conflict between imagination, humor, and control. In our creation, Dāyirn dāir , [All round, 1989], we drew inspiration from Jarry's Ubu cycle of plays, which were part of the absurd theatre movement that emerged in Europe at the end of the 19th century. Drawing from Gamal El Ghitani’s novel, El Zeiny Brakat , [which is set in Mamluk Egypt] we created our own Mamluk version that incorporated elements of Jarry's vision. The themes somewhat inspired the events in our play in the Ubu cycle. The exploration of power dynamics and the use of absurdity and satire became central to our creation. Through this play, we aimed to comment on the power structures within our society, using Jarry's work as a springboard for our unique artistic expression. IE: Remarkable. Let's shift our focus to the overall theatrical experience that El Warsha provides. Can you tell me more about the importance of sensory elements like space, sound, light, and movement in your work? Geretly: In El Warsha, we place great importance on creating a multi-dimensional and impactful theatrical experience. We understand that theatre is about the spoken word and engaging all the audience's senses. The sensory elements play a crucial role in this. For example, the use of space is paramount. We often work in smaller spaces to maintain an intimate connection between the actors and the audience. This proximity creates a sense of immersion and allows the audience to truly experience the performance. Sound and music also play a significant role in creating the desired atmosphere. Whether it's the soundscape integrated into the play or live music performed on stage, it adds depth and emotional resonance to the experience. Lighting is another crucial element. We carefully design the lighting to create the desired mood and focus attention, enhancing the overall visual impact. Movement is integral to the theatrical experience as well. We pay great attention to the physicality of the actors, their gestures, and the way they interact with the space. These elements contribute to the rhythm and flow of the play, adding layers of meaning and impacting the audience on a visceral level. IE: How did El Warsha transition from performing established texts to producing its original work? Geretly: It surprised me that we had neglected the rich theatrical and dramatic sources in our own culture. Instead, we treated them as mere local color, adding a touch of flavor to our works but not fully exploring their material, spirit, and the inherent architecture of our indigenous performance arts. There was a tendency to remain within the Western model and use our culture as a decorative local element. For example, we would take a story from the Arabian Nights and turn it into a play that remained within the Western imagination without fully engaging with our cultural heritage. But then we started examining this neglected heritage, looking beyond the surface and delving into the material, spirit, and worldview these works represent. It was a process of utilizing our cultural sources and reshaping the hegemonic Western theater model, which had been dominant for centuries. It opened up many sources to explore, starting with our rich heritage. IE: Can you elaborate on how your encounter with the shadow players and the spirit of comedy and fear influenced your productions, particularly about the Ubu project? Geretly: The encounter with the shadow players in 1985 sparked a newfound interest in elements drawn from popular Egyptian traditional performance arts. Witnessing the performance by the last group of shadow players, who had reunited after many years, left a lasting impression on me. During the staging of Dāir maydūr [All Round, 1989] and Dāyirn dāir [All Round, 1990], adaptations of the Ubu cycle, these elements began to influence our work. We incorporated the essence of the art of shadow play into our techniques and performances. All the actors were trained in shadow play with puppets, and we even brought the masters to work with us. One of the masters, Hassan Al Farran, taught the children in our outreach work, sharing their artistic secrets and passing on their knowledge. The spirit of comedy and fear, elements inherent in shadow play, started to find their way into our productions. For example, in Dāir maydūr we incorporated shadow play on stage in shadow form, along with performances by belly dancer Hanan Youssef, who portrayed the wife of Mamluk Dayer and the mistress of Ibrahim Ibn El Sokar. We designed puppets specifically for the shadow players to perform with, using shadow forms as well. The practice of shadow play, which had nearly vanished, became an integral part of our production. Exploring popular Egyptian traditional performance arts allowed us to infuse new elements of comedy, fear, and creativity into our work. We learned from the masters and shared their techniques with our actors, further enriching our artistic expression. IE: Now, let's discuss your training in popular performance arts, specifically storytelling. How did storytelling serve as the core of your training, and what other art forms did you immerse yourselves in for inspiration? Geretly: Storytelling was central to our training, forming the core of exploring popular performance arts. We recognized the power and significance of storytelling as a means of communication and artistic expression. Through immersive training, we delved into the art of storytelling, embracing its techniques, narratives, and connection with the audience. In addition to storytelling, we immersed ourselves in various other art forms as a foundation for inspiration in our subsequent plays. For example, we incorporated elements of the al araguz tradition, a form of puppetry, into our productions. Scenes were designed to evoke the spirit of comics, adding a touch of humor and liveliness to our performances. Our exposure to these art forms allowed us to tap into the creativity and expressive potential they offered. By integrating storytelling, puppetry, and other traditional performance arts, we created a dynamic and multi-dimensional theatrical experience that captivated audiences and enriched our productions. IE: I'm intrigued by your exploration of the mulid or saint's feast as a setting for a play. Can you tell us more about the inspiration behind this concept and how you incorporated it into your production "Ghazīr al-layl" [The Tide of Nights 1993] Geretly: Certainly! The mulids have fascinated me for years. It's a rapidly disappearing phenomenon, much like many aspects of everyday life in Egypt. I saw it as the perfect setting and time for a play because it possesses a timeless quality, with a vibrant atmosphere and various popular arts being practiced. To bring this concept to life, I drew inspiration from the story of Hassan and Nai'ma, a popular ballad set in the countryside in 1926. This love story between a talented singer named Hassan and a young village woman named Nai'ma provided the narrative framework for the play. We wanted to explore her love for him and her family's disapproval. The mulid allowed us to move back and forth in time, as the essence of the celebration remains unchanged throughout the years. It allowed us to immerse the audience in the timeless ambiance of the mulid and incorporate various elements of popular arts practiced during the festivities. In addition to the love story, we intertwined other strands into the production. We incorporated elements of Pharaonic history, drawing on the possibility that the mulid originated from local Pharaonic manifestations of celestial power. We also included the Armenian story of 1926, incorporating an Armenian character played by Vania Exerjian, who sells tobacco at the moulid and interacts with the Egyptian characters. Furthermore, we envisioned a Greek bar where local landowners would gather to drink and buy alcohol. We created a poetic continuum with a unique structure by intertwining these different elements. The play was structured poetically, combining diverse stories, characters, and cultural influences. Through interviews and interactions with various personas, including a singer who felt jealous yet mourned Hassan's death, we aimed to create a rich and evocative theatrical experience. IE: Could you elaborate on the significance of the mulid and how it relates to the themes and emotions explored in the play? Geretly: The mulid holds deep significance both historically and culturally in Egypt. It is an annual religious ceremony in every quarter and town across the country. While its roots can be traced back to medieval times in Fatimid Egypt, I believe it has even deeper roots, possibly originating from local Pharaonic manifestations of celestial power. The mulid provided an ideal backdrop for our play because it carries a timeless quality. The atmosphere and practices associated with the mulid remained relatively unchanged throughout the years. It is a canvas for various popular arts, creating a vibrant and lively ambiance. In our play, the mulid was a setting where different characters and narratives converged. It allowed us to delve into the themes of love, family disapproval, and the struggle for justice. The mulid's inclusive and celebratory nature provided a symbolic backdrop to explore the complexities of human emotions and societal dynamics. Moreover, the mulid's connection to local traditions and cultural heritage added depth to the storytelling. By intertwining historical events, such as the 1919 revolution, within the context of the mulid, we aimed to evoke a sense of collective memory and reflect on the spirit of the times. In essence, the mulid became more than just a setting for the play. It became a metaphorical space that encapsulated the spirit of Egypt, its traditions, and the ongoing journey of societal transformation. IE: Now I'm curious about the production's scenography and the unique role of the storyteller. Can you elaborate on how you brought these elements to life? Geretly: The scenography of the production was designed to enhance the narrative and immersive experience for the audience. We incorporated a bed that served multiple purposes within the play's scenography, acting as a stage, shrine, and bed. This antiquated bed became a focal point, symbolizing different aspects of the story. It transformed into various objects and settings, allowing for seamless transitions and a dynamic visual representation of the narrative. In addition to the scenography, we introduced a unique role to the production—the storyteller. Sayed Ragab played this role and appeared on the bed, serving as the narrator and guide through the story. His presence added a layer of storytelling that connected the different elements and characters in the play. Ragab's role as the storyteller provided continuity and a sense of unity throughout the production. His interactions with the other characters and his narrations served as a bridge between the past and present, creating a cohesive and engaging theatrical experience for the audience. Overall, the scenography and the inclusion of the storyteller were integral elements in bringing the narrative to life and immersing the audience in the poetic continuum we aimed to create. IE: Let's dive into incorporating taḥṭīb , the stick dueling art, into the play. Can you elaborate on why you chose taḥṭīb [stick fight/ dance] to represent Hassan's murder and its significance in the play. Geretly: Taḥṭīb holds deep cultural and historical significance in Egypt, originating from ancient times and serving as a training exercise for the Egyptian army. Using taḥṭīb, we wanted to connect with our cultural heritage and showcase a recognized and respected art form. We saw it as a representation of the broken cycle of violence, as there is no expectation of revenge in this case. It allowed us to explore a different narrative where the focus shifted from vengeance to the tragic consequences of the characters' actions. The use of taḥṭīb also carries a symbolic meaning within the play. It represents a connection to ancient Egyptian culture, drawing on the war paintings and engravings that depict the Egyptian army practicing taḥṭīb as a training exercise. This connection to the past, combined with the fusion of traditional and contemporary elements in the play, adds depth and complexity to the storytelling. Tradition, to us, is about more than just idolizing the past. It's about actively preserving and continuing the flame of cultural practices and artistic traditions. In our engagement with popular culture, we strive to honor Egypt's rich heritage while bringing it into contemporary contexts. Rather than simply reviving or imitating popular traditions, we aim to breathe new life into them by integrating them into our plays and performances. By passing on these traditions through our work, we ensure their relevance in the present and future, allowing them to evolve and remain dynamic. IE: Can you tell us about the establishment of the Centre for Taḥṭīb Art and its importance in preserving this unique art form? Geretly: El Warsha and I established the center in honor of Medhat Fawzi, a young dancer and stick fighter from Malawi who sadly passed away in a car crash a few years ago. It is the only independent center for popular arts in Egypt, located in Malawi, Egypt. The center is in an old, abandoned cinema built in the 1930s. IE: Can you tell us about the training programs and groups at the center? Geretly: We have scores of young men, and sometimes young girls, who train twice a week at the center. Our company consists of men of different ages, and we now even have up to 8 generations of men in our company. In addition, we have a group of children who also receive training. Initially, finding trainers willing to teach others was challenging, so we had to train our own trainers. Only a few professional stick fighters or dancers were part of government institutions, like the Mass Culture Institution or the Palaces of Culture. They were reluctant to pass on their knowledge, so we took it upon ourselves to preserve and disseminate this art form. Stick fighting and stick dancing are martial arts and sports that are performed during popular ceremonies such as saints' birthdays and weddings. The art is always accompanied by music, although the duel itself is not performed to a specific rhythm. There is a distinct aesthetic sense as the stick fighters engage in duels. It's important to note that this art form is not about defeating your adversary but rather about contemplation and aesthetics. From the duel, the dance emerged, and Egyptian folkloric companies now incorporate stick dancing into their group choreography. El Warsha had acquired the reputation of a company that specialized in folklore. And of course, this is not really true. We worked during this period of the aforementioned performances in bringing this source into our work that has been neglected in the short history of Egyptian theatre, except in an artificial way, as I already pointed out. But because it was a very successful introduction, El Warsha was quickly identified with this stage of its history because it was such a powerful move that led on the one hand to an acknowledgment and recognition of this popular culture, and on the other hand to some virulent attacks on the Warsha claiming that we were creating shows for tourists, or creating shows to export to the West which was very interested in traditional cultures. And, of course, our moves didn't originate in this kind of motivation at all though we got invitations from time to time to the west. But our product was very unlike all the other products that were exported from Egypt. When it comes to our traditional art forms being exported to other countries, especially in the West, there is often a tendency to present them as folkloric versions rather than authentic representations of our culture. This happens because people in our own countries may not have a thorough understanding of these art forms. As a result, there is sometimes ignorance regarding the existence and significance of these arts in our own reality. This can lead to rejecting these art forms as belonging to a past that we should move away from to embrace modernity. This attack on our traditional arts has increased over time, but there have been companies that create plays inspired by our work to meet the desires of audiences who wish to explore our multiple identities, including the aspects we may have overlooked in the twentieth century with the rise of modernity. IE: Can you discuss your work on the Bani Hilal epic? Geretly: Bani Hilal is a medieval epic that surpasses even the scale of the Iliad and Odyssey combined. However, it has never been written down in its entirety. Instead, it exists in various versions told by different storytellers. Each storyteller adds their own variations and personal touches, creating diverse interpretations of the epic. When we wanted to bring the epic to life on stage, we divided the lines among different characters based on the versions of the great bards, such as Sayed El Dawwi. We kept the lines intact, without changing a single word, using the exact recorded version from Sayed El Dawwi. IE: It's fascinating to see how the epic was adapted for the stage. Could you share an example of how you turned the collective lines of different poets into a play during your experiment in Holland? Geretly: In our experiment in Holland, we took the collective lines from different poets and initially divided them between a chorus, responsible for singing the narratives, and the actors, who sang the lines of the characters. By doing this, the epic seamlessly transformed into a play without much effort. Our first play, Ghazal al-A'mār [Spinning Lives, 1997], was derived from a version of Sayed Al Dawwi's recordings. We edited the recordings into a play, introducing one quatrain to create a flashback since the original epic did not have flashbacks. This allowed us to adapt the epic to the theatrical medium. IE: Could you tell us about your ongoing work on the epic in recent years? Geretly: In recent years, we have resumed our work on the epic. We focused on the last book of the epic. Our goal has been to train a new generation of El Warsha performers in speaking, narrating, and singing the epic using traditional tunes. We have also been working on the dramaturgy of a new play based on the theme of the last book, which explores the disunity and internal conflicts among the Arabs after their triumph over Tunis. We delve into the economic motives behind their actions, as they left Yemen due to drought and invaded Tunis for its fertile land. This period of the epic reveals how the four Arab tribes and their 360 thousand soldiers fought among themselves for power and wealth, gradually losing their original purpose. We have been working closely with various storytellers, singers, and actors to understand the different versions of the epic and learn from their expertise. IE: Could you share your experience working with Sayed Al Dawwi and his impact on your artistic journey? Geretly: Working with Sayed Al Dawwi was a truly amazing experience. He was not just a teacher or a facilitator, but a master. We spent years immersed in his recordings, transcribing thousands of quatrains that became our primary source material. Sayed Al Dawwi considered himself responsible for preserving and propagating the epic throughout his life. His relationship to the epic was phenomenal. He carried it on him like a religious book. He considered himself responsible for this book and for propagating the epic throughout his life. He would sing nothing else. There were would be other singers in his music group that would sing the lighter songs for the audience to relax in between the dramatic episodes while he would take a break. His relationship to time, to the epic, to politics, to God, gave us lessons. He did not teach anything in a direct manner. We learnt off his tapes. IE: Let's move to talk about operettas in Egyptian theatre. You mentioned that they have played a significant role in exploring the history of Egyptian theatre. Could you tell us more about that? Geretly: Certainly! operettas have played a significant role in exploring Egyptian theatre's short but impactful history in its Western sense. We have brought back several masterpieces from the 19th century onwards, including Tawfik El Hakim's 1931 play Rusāṣah fī al-qalb , [A Bullet in the Heart, 2003] and two operettas from the 20th century. The most recent one you saw was Yawm al-qiyāmah [Doomsday, 2017] which we adapted as Qiyāmah qayma , [Domesday Has Come]. We also revived a 1924 operetta called Ayyām al-ʿizz [Days of Splendor, 2007]. IE: It's interesting how operettas have been revived in Egyptian theatre. Could you explain why Egyptians have a strong attachment to singing and how that has influenced our culture's popularity of musical plays and operettas? Geretly: Egyptians have a strong attachment to singing, and Egyptian cinema has evolved from silent films to singing films and eventually to talkies, much like Western cinema. Singing has always been a fundamental element of Egyptian cinema, so it's only natural that operettas and musical plays are popular forms of theatre in our culture. As a company, we train our actors extensively, focusing on voice, singing, and dance. This comprehensive training allows our actors to handle various styles of performance. IE: It seems that your company not only focuses on traditional operettas but also explores different forms of musical performances. Could you elaborate on this? Geretly: Yes, we are continuously exploring different forms of musical performances. Our productions are often musical, so they don't necessarily have to be operettas to include music and singing. Our adaptations of foreign plays and our original works often feature music, and the plays written in El Warsha typically include songs as well. We aim to create a diverse range of productions that incorporate music and singing. IE: I'd like to touch on your development of the "Nights of El Warsha" form. Can you explain how this form has evolved over the years and what it offers to both the performers and the audience? Geretly: In 1992, we started a form called " Layālī al-warṣḥah " [Nights of El Warsha] which allows us to experiment with different sources of writing and provides an opportunity for new members of the company to develop their performing abilities, especially as singers. It is a review or a musical play that contains stories, sketches, and sometimes short plays, but always includes songs. This evolving form changes its content while maintaining its structure. It has become a platform for our discoveries and experiments in writing, as well as a training ground for our performances. "Nights of El Warsha" has gained its own recognition and is always in demand. On average, we perform a "Night of El Warsha" once a month. Recently, we performed a production called Ṭuyūr al-Fayyūm [The Birds of Fayoum, 2014] as part of the Avignon Festival. It had a political theme, similar to a French cabaret. However, I should clarify that the Arabic term cabareh has a different connotation, referring to a lively nightclub. This form has been our most successful medium for exploring our creative ideas and experimenting with writing, and it continues to thrive as a unique style, always offering something new and enjoyable to the audience. IE: Your theater group explores the intersection of art and politics. Can you elaborate on how this connection is reflected in your performances and the role it plays in your work? Geretly: The connection between art and politics is a central aspect of our work. In our performances, we often integrate political texts and themes to create a dialogue with the audience. For example, we projected texts by Victor Hugo and La Fontaine during our shows, which had strong political undertones. We also introduced a powerful text by Alia Mossallam, reflecting on freedom and the significance of political activism. These collective works explore the notion of political engagement without directly addressing the political issues of the day. By choosing to create art that is politically engaged, we participate in a national dialogue that encourages Egyptians to openly discuss the realities of their country. IE: Your play, Ṭuyūr al-Fayyūm , incorporates themes of freedom and is a reflection on the political activism of imprisoned individuals. Can you explain how these themes are explored in the play and the impact they have on the audience? Geretly: In Ṭuyūr al-Fayyūm we drew inspiration from Alia Mossallam's reflection on freedom during a birthday outing with her daughter. This reflection and La Fontaine's "The Wolf and the Dog" story about freedom became integral to the play. The play serves as a reminder of the imprisoned political activists and the importance of freedom. By weaving these themes into the performance, we profoundly impact the audience. Through the projection of texts and the exploration of diverse cultural expressions, we encourage our audience to reflect on the idea of freedom and its significance in their lives. IE: The play Zawāyā [Perspectives, 2012] tackles the revolution of 2011 from different perspectives. Can you tell us more about the characters portrayed and how their varying viewpoints contribute to a more nuanced understanding of the revolution? Geretly: In Zawāyā , we present the story of the 2011 revolution from different angles through various characters. These characters include a mother who lost her child, a human rights woman, a henchman whose attitude towards the revolution evolves, and an Ultras who experienced the loss of fellow members during a football match in Port Said. Each character represents their own interests and points of view, providing a multifaceted interpretation of the revolution. By presenting these different perspectives, we challenge the simplistic narratives often presented by the media and offer a more nuanced understanding of the complex reality of the revolution. IE: Your exploration of themes also included the subject of Troy and the "Ḥikmat al-munkasirīn" [Wisdom of the Defeated]. Can you tell us more about your work on this subject and the challenges you faced in creating a contemporary interpretation? Geretly: "Hikmat Al Munkasirin" is a concept introduced by Mahmoud Darwish, which explores the wisdom that can emerge from the experiences of the defeated. In our play "Mahmoud Darwish, A Poet of Troy," we incorporated this theme to shed light on the complexities and nuances of defeat and its inherent wisdom. However, we faced challenges with the formation of the team, which led us to pause and shift our direction. Nonetheless, the theme of "Hikmat Al Munkasirin" remains a subject of interest and can be further explored in our future work. IE: Your approach to funding for your theater productions has been unique. Can you elaborate on how you sought funding and the role cultural institutions played in supporting your work? Geretly: We approached funding naturally by establishing connections with cultural institutions based on the nature of the plays we wanted to bring to Egypt. For example, the Goethe Institute supported our first play under the name of El Warsha, as well as other productions such as our adaption of Kafka's "The Penal Colony" [1989 and 2012]. Similarly, the British Council covered some of the costs for our productions during their 50th anniversary in Egypt. We didn't seek plays to fit these institutions; rather, we looked for institutions that were interested in the type of plays we wanted to bring, fostering a mutual understanding and partnership. IE: Your theater group faced criticism for receiving foreign funding. How did you navigate these criticisms and maintain your artistic integrity? Geretly: The criticisms we faced for receiving foreign funding revolved around accusations of aligning with imperialism and supporting certain political agendas. However, it was important to emphasize that the funding we received came from institutions managed by progressive intellectuals and individuals who had been active in movements such as the 1968 protests. We engaged in rich dialogues with them, and the funding provided essential support for our work. Over time, the criticisms subsided as it became clear that independent funding opportunities within Egypt were limited. Many institutions and artists who criticized us for foreign funding ended up receiving similar support themselves. It was important to maintain our artistic integrity and focus on the work we wanted to create, regardless of the criticisms faced. IE: You mentioned conflicting dynamics within the institutional structures and bureaucracy that hindered the creative process. Can you share your experiences in navigating these challenges and your decision to focus on independent initiatives? Geretly: I had experiences working within institutional structures, such as being the director of Al Hanager, the first theater for young experimental contemporary arts. However, I eventually resigned from that position due to the realization that the conditions required aligning with the state's propaganda machine. I wanted to be part of a movement rather than an isolated independent artist. Unfortunately, in Egypt, accessing state funding without being part of the established system or a theater that acts as a mouthpiece for the authorities is incredibly challenging. I remained committed to the idea that the theater should belong to the young independent initiatives in the country rather than an individual or company. Despite being told that I had the freedom to do as I pleased, I recognized the bureaucratic obstacles within the system and chose to focus on maintaining true independence with El Warsha. My father's experiences as a Minister of Finance in 1954 and the challenges he faced due to the price of being in power profoundly impacted me. Similarly, my own experiences within institutional structures, such as my position at Al Hanager, made me realize the difficulties involved in executing my decisions and the extent of external interventions. These factors reinforced my desire for true independence and freedom to negotiate my place within the system. Consequently, I resigned from that position and focused on El Warsha, making it clear that Al Hanager would be a theater for the new independent initiatives in Egypt rather than a personal entity. IE: How have you navigated the challenges of securing funding and the transition to alternative financial systems? Geretly: Securing funding has been a dynamic process for us. In recent years, we have faced funding limitations due to the economic impact of the COVID-19 pandemic and a decrease in cultural support. We have shifted our approach by focusing on generating income through our trainings and maintaining social responsibility. For example, for every two trainees, we offer scholarships to two others or provide free training to a percentage of participants. We have also become proactive in marketing and branding our performances through social media and public relations. Additionally, we are exploring partnerships with the private sector and relying more on local resources to finance our productions. It has been a challenging transition, but we remain determined to maintain true independence and financial stability. IE: I'm curious to know how El Warsha, the first independent theater company in Egypt, came to be. Can you share the story behind its creation? Geretly: El Warsha was unintentionally created in 1987 while we were working on The Pupil Wishes to be a Master by Peter Handke and the revival of Dario Fo and Franca Rame’s Nawbat ṣaḥyān . We thought, why not continue? We named it El Warsha. Although we had discussed working together for years while I was in France, there was no preconceived idea. IE: As the first independent group, how did you establish yourselves and inspire others to join this movement? Geretly: We initially called ourselves the Free Groups, but as more groups emerged, we began referring to ourselves as independent. We held small festivals occasionally to celebrate the emergence of this movement. One significant event was when we invited all the groups to gather at the Greek Club and performed “The Wolf and the Dog,” a parable about freedom by La Fontaine. This gathering became a trend, and every amateur group started dubbing themselves independent. Individuals from various groups paradoxically met in the cafeteria of Hanager, the theater I built and then left. The phenomenon grew and developed, although it became confusing as some individuals belonged to multiple groups. IE: It's fascinating to hear how this movement gained momentum. Did the government support the independent theater scene during this time? Geretly: Throughout our 36 years of existence, the government contributed only to our travel expenses and provided pocket money to represent Egypt abroad. We were seen as a prestigious product of Egypt's artistic creativity. Despite this minimal support, we survived, and our continued existence encouraged others to enter the independent theater landscape. However, it's important to note that the government didn't provide substantial support, despite ongoing discussions within various institutions such as the Sunduk tanmia thaqafiiya [The Cultural Development Fund]. IE: I can imagine the challenges you faced without significant support from the government. How has the independent theater movement evolved since then, and what are some of the current challenges you face? Geretly: Looking back, the image isn't as glorious as it initially seemed. While some companies have managed to survive through traveling, funding, and outreach work, I wouldn't say there is a flourishing independent theater movement. The challenges we face are abundant. The ultimate issue is being completely marginalized and lacking dialogue with the authorities and the state. There is no space to work and be truly independent. Funding is scarce, and censorship fluctuates depending on the state's leniency towards expression. Additionally, the patriarchal nature of our society instills a longing for adoption by the state, which seems paradoxical. IE: Looking ahead, what are your aspirations as a theater professional? Do you have any upcoming projects or collaborations that you are excited about? Geretly: As a theater professional, I live without hope but with a strong desire that keeps me motivated. As I navigate the present, I carry the past within me, envisioning myself as a crescent holding the remaining piece of the moon, symbolizing my journey into the future. While hope may be absent, my desire propels me forward. In terms of projects, I have several in progress. One of them is the second version of the epic of Bani Hilal, titled The Orphans . This project brings together three generations: myself (the oldest generation), then the writer, Shadi Atif, and finally Ali Abdel Latif (the youngest), the actor who portrays Abu Zaid in the scene of his death. It reflects on our lives and the sense of despondency we feel post-2011, acknowledging the defeat of the uprising while recognizing the rich contributions and ideas that emerged during that time. We have already showcased a demo of parts of the play and are currently seeking additional funding to complete the project. Additionally, we have been exploring the roaring twenties and thirties following the 1919 revolution, which marked a significant period of unleashed freedom in Egypt. We are excited about this thematic exploration. We recently presented a night of El Warsha called "Ba'd El 'sha" [After the Evening Falls], which combines stories, songs, and sketches from this project. Beyond that, I am involved in various projects, such as developing podcasts based on Egyptian proverbs focused on sustainability, collaborating with a cultural center in Qena, Upper Egypt and supporting cultural activities in Malawi, Egypt. These projects motivate and engage me, fueling my passion for new ideas and societal development through art. As we conclude this captivating interview, we are left in awe of this remarkable theater figure's profound wisdom and artistic vision. With over four decades of experience, his contributions to the theater industry have been extraordinary. Through his commitment to reviving old theater traditions, while embracing modern techniques, he has bridged the gap between past and present, breathing new life into the theatrical realm. His impact as a director, dramaturge, and actor will continue influencing and inspiring future generations. We sincerely thank this theater luminary for their time, insights, and unwavering dedication to the craft. Article Bibliography, References & Endnotes These interviews were conducted in English via zoom between 22 and 25 September 2023. The four and half hours of interviews have been edited for length and clarity. References About The Author(s) Dr. Ezzeldin is Assistant Professor at the Department of Drama and Theatre Criticism of Ain Shams University in Cairo, Egypt (founder of the department in 2006). She is the founder and coordinator of the "Film Criticism Diploma". She is also the former director of the "National Library of Egypt, Bab-Al-Khalq". A classicist by training and an active player on the wider cultural scene. She is a member of the IFTR and a jury member for many literary, cultural, theatre, and film awards. Additionally, she was a member of the Theater Committee of the Supreme Council of Culture, Ministry of Culture, Egypt, for many years. A visiting professor at Charles University in Prague, Czech Republic, and the Kuwait High Institute for Theatre Studies in Kuwait. Furthermore, she acts as a consultant for the "El Nahda Scientific and Cultural Organization (Cairo Jesuit)". She has to her name many publications in Arabic, English and Italian. Arab Stages Arab Stages is devoted to broadening international awareness and understanding of the theatre and performance cultures of the Arab-Islamic world and of its diaspora. The journal appears twice yearly in digital form by the Martin E. Segal Theatre Center of New York and is a joint project of that Center and of the Arabic Theatre Working Group of the International Federation for Theatre Research. Visit Journal Homepage Table of Contents Review: Mother Courage adapted and directed by Alison Shan Price Review of Theaters of Citizenship: Aesthetics and Politics of Avant-Garde Performance in Egypt written by Sonali Pahwa Review: Decolonizing Sarah: A Hurricane Play written and directed by Samer Al-Saber “Indigenous Avant-Gardes”: The Shiraz Arts Festival and Ritual Performance Theory in 1970s Iran Review: Baba written by Denmo Ibrahim, directed by Hamid Dehghani Review of MUKHRIJĀT AL-MASRAḤ AL-MIṢRĪ (1990-2010): DIRĀSA SĪMIYŪṬĪQĪYAH [Female Egyptian Directors (1990-2010): A Semiotic Study], written by Hadia Abd El-Fattah Review of Syrian Refugees, Applied Theater, Workshop Facilitation, and Stories: While They Were Waiting written by Fadi Skeiker Review: Layalina written by Martin Yousif Zebari, directed by Sivan Battat Up There by Wael Kadour, Introduction Review: Playwright Showcase, New Arab American Theater Works Two Giants of Egyptian Theatre: Conversations with Mohamed Abul-ʿEla El-Salamouny and Lenin El-Ramly Crossing Borders: A Theatre Practitioner’s Odyssey, An Interview with Hassan El Geretly On Writing Egypt from the Diaspora: An Interview with Adam Ashraf Elsayigh Performance Review: A FAMILY THAT HAS BEEN BLOCKED Performance Review: BETHLEHEM SITE-SPECIFIC THEATER FESTIVAL Performance Review: HOOTA. By Amer Hlehel Performance Review: LITTLE SYRIA Book Review: ACTING EGYPTIAN Book Review: MANSOUR, MONA. THE VAGRANT TRILOGY Previous Next Attribution: Entries under this journal are licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 4.0 International license.

Jonathan Chambers Back to Top Untitled Article References Copy of References Authors Keep Reading < Back Journal of American Drama & Theatre Volume Issue 27 2 Visit Journal Homepage Introduction (JADT 27.2, 2015) Jonathan Chambers By Published on April 23, 2015 Download Article as PDF In its almost 30-year history, the American Theatre and Drama Society (ATDS) has championed the study of theatre and drama in the United States, in all its wide-ranging traditions, numerous histories, and myriad forms. The organization has, along the way, sought to interrogate the constantly shifting notion of what constitutes “America,” both as a place and an idea. Running parallel to the efforts of ATDS has been the Journal of American Drama and Theatre ( JADT ), itself nearing its 30 year anniversary. As does ATDS, JADT offers a forum for scholars interested in the American theatre, writ large, to exchange ideas, to push the field forward, and to explore and challenge received notions of “America,” “drama,” and “theatre.” Given their corresponding missions, it should come as no surprise that the names comprising the list of authors who have published in JADT is very similar to those found on the membership roll of ATDS, and that the organization and journal have shared in numerous fruitful partnerships. This annual special issue of JADT , guest edited by a member of ATDS, is just one of those many collaborations that have long-defined that symbiotic relationship. The call inviting submissions for this particular special issue encouraged authors to use as a point of departure Joseph Campbell’s expansive conception of myth, considering specifically the history and continued presence of myth in theatre, drama, and performance in the Americas. Authors were asked to explore how myth—functioning mystically, cosmologically, sociologically, pedagogically, or in some way other way – shaped American theatrical expression, drama, and performance; and, in turn, how theatrical expression, drama, and performance shaped our conceptions of our universe and ourselves. In composing the call, I sought to draw in pieces that would address the idea of “myth” broadly construed. Thus, while I would have gladly welcomed considerations of ancient Greek or Roman myth within the context of historical or contemporary America (a subject I personally find fascinating), I was more keenly interested in exploring the ways in which myth was and is built into “America,” and how theatre, drama, and performance have participated/continue to participate in that process. The four pieces in this issue engage in that type of thoroughgoing investigation in intriguing ways. In the first, “The Best Actor for the Role, or the Mythos of Casting in American Popular Performance,” Brian Eugenio Herrera reviews multiple conversations about casting, finds a pattern within them, and terms that pattern the “Mythos of Casting.” In turning a spotlight on this aspect of theatrical production that has typically escaped careful examination, Herrera offers a number of thought-provoking observations regarding not only the mythical qualities that drive the casting process in most professional and academic contexts, but also the entire theatre making enterprise. In the two pieces that follow – “Visibly White: Realism and Race in Appropriate and Straight White Men ” by Kee-Yoon Nahm, and “Capable Hands: The Myth of American Independence in D. W. Gregory’s The Good Daughter ” by Bradley Stephenson – the focus shifts to myths at play in contemporary, American theatre pieces. In the former, Nahm challenges conventional notions of what constitutes realism. Offering rich analyses of two new pieces by emerging playwrights in the field of experimental or avant-garde theatre – Branden Jacobs-Jenkins’s Appropriate and Young Jean Lee’s Straight White Men – Nahm persuasively argues that, despite claims to the contrary and as is evidenced by these pieces, realism has the potential to generate political power and, in so doing, disrupt the traditionally perceived link between realism and whiteness. In the latter essay, Stephenson argues that Gregory’s play disrupts and contests contemporary and historical ways of viewing disabled people as “less than,” “fragile,” or “incapable.” The Good Daughter , thus, represents disabled characters differently than persistent cultural depictions. In the final piece, “Rooting Out Historical Mythologies; or, William Dunlap’s A Trip to Niagara and its Sophisticated Nineteenth Century Audience,” Samuel T. Shanks grants Dunlap – a frequently ignored American dramatist who deserves more attention given the quality and quantity of his work – his much-needed due. But beyond this specific focus on Dunlap, Shanks challenges the community of American theatre scholars to think more deeply and critically about the historiographic biases, assumptions, and mythologies the frequently structure and shape its investigations of the theatrical past. Taken together, then, the four pieces collected here powerfully demonstrate the continued force that myths have on American theatre and on our critical considerations of it. This issue is the product of many hours of labor on the part of a number of people. First and foremost, I had the good fortune of working with an extraordinarily sharp and responsible editorial board, drawn from the membership of ATDS. Consisting of Amy Brady (Kean University), James Cherry (Wabash College), James Fisher, (University of North Carolina, Greensboro), Fonzie Geary (Lyon College), Megan Sanborn Jones (Brigham Young University), Jennifer Kokai (Weber State University), Ilka Saal (University of Erfurt), and Lisa Jackson-Schebetta (University of Pittsburgh), the board helped shape the call, offered thoughtful and thorough responses to submissions, and gladly lent a hand to the process whenever called upon. Thanks as well to Cheryl Black, President of ATDS, and Dorothy Chansky, Vice President, for their support of this special issue from the start, as well as their willingness to share their expertise. ATDS has the very good fortune of working with an outstanding team in the offices of JADT , including co-editors Naomi J. Stubbs and James F. Wilson, and managing editor Phoebe Rumsey. And extra loud “shout out” goes to Phoebe for her generosity and cheerful spirit while shepherding this issue from start to finish, making sure that all involved stayed on track. My final word of thanks goes to the four authors whose works are presented in this issue. I hope in reading their pieces you are challenged, as I have been, to think more deeply about the myths that structure our social, political, aesthetic, disciplinary, and personal lives. References Footnotes About The Author(s) JONATHAN CHAMBERS Guest Editor Bowling Green State University Journal of American Drama & Theatre JADT publishes thoughtful and innovative work by leading scholars on theatre, drama, and performance in the Americas – past and present. Provocative articles provide valuable insight and information on the heritage of American theatre, as well as its continuing contribution to world literature and the performing arts. Founded in 1989 and previously edited by Professors Vera Mowry Roberts, Jane Bowers, and David Savran, this widely acclaimed peer reviewed journal is now edited by Dr. Benjamin Gillespie and Dr. Bess Rowen. Journal of American Drama and Theatre is a publication of the Martin E. Segal Theatre Center. Visit Journal Homepage Table of Contents - Current Issue Introduction (JADT 27.2, 2015) The Best Actor for the Role, or the Mythos of Casting in American Popular Performance Visibly White: Realism and Race in Appropriate and Straight White Men Capable Hands: The Myth of American Independence in D.W. Gregory's The Good Daughter Rooting Out Historical Mythologies; William Dunlap’s A Trip to Niagara and its Sophisticated Nineteenth Century Audience. Previous Next Attribution: This entry is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 4.0 International license.

Karen Bowdre Back to Top Untitled Article References Copy of References Authors Keep Reading < Back Journal of American Drama & Theatre Volume Issue 26 3 Visit Journal Homepage Ida Wells-Barnett and Chicago’s Pekin Theatre Karen Bowdre By Published on November 16, 2014 Download Article as PDF Karen Bowdre/ Ida Wells-Barnett (1862-1931) is well known as an anti-lynching advocate and activist, but she is less well known for her involvement with the theatre. In this essay, I argue that she played an instrumental role in creating new attitudes concerning the theatre and artistic expression. She engaged in persuasion campaigns in the early twentieth century that stretched the moral boundaries African American communities placed on entertainment. In order to affect this cultural shift she sought to bring the dramatic arts to Chicago through the Pekin Theater shortly after its re-opening in March 1906. The Pekin Theater was the city’s, and one of the nation’s, first theatres owned, managed, and operated by African Americans.[1] In her artistic crusade she battled not only the biases held by middle and upper-class African Americans toward the theatre but also the religious and moral panic patronizing the theatre often brought about in these communities. Her intervention took place over fifteen years prior to Art Theatre Movement, or Little Theatre Movement, and Alain Locke’s “Steps Toward the Negro Theatre,” published in 1922. It also came a decade before W. E. B. Du Bois’s defined Black Theatre as theatrical works “about us [African Americans], by us, for us, near us.”[2] Though Wells-Barnett can be linked to uplift ideology, she disrupted uplift tenets by being a female leader with a lower class background.[3] While Wells-Barnett gained class status from her job as a journalist as well as international recognition as a reformer, her gender and her original class status (her parents were slaves and later working people), as well as her attitudes about Black leadership, complicated her “elite” position. Nevertheless, she used her voice to create new spaces for Black cultural expression. Using the chapter from Wells-Barnett’s autobiography, Crusade for Justice: The Autobiography of Ida B. Wells, entitled, “A Negro Theater,” this essay delineates how Wells-Barnett challenged, through her words and deeds, the low opinions various African American communities held regarding the theatre. Wells-Barnett was one of the most influential African American women in the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries.[4] She was a teacher, journalist, editor, newspaper owner, anti-lynching advocate, and an activist for the social and political equality of Black Americans. Her anti-lynching crusades in the United Kingdom heightened the awareness of the crime throughout the United States and abroad, while her articles inspired African Americans to challenge racial oppression. Though born enslaved in 1862, her emancipation came when she was three years old. The premature death of her parents and youngest brother due to yellow fever in 1878 led to Wells-Barnett’s decision to leave college and become a teacher to support her family.[5] One of the first events that reflects Wells-Barnett’s refusal to willing submit to racial oppression occurred during her time as a teacher. While sitting in the ladies’ car on a train from Memphis to Woodstock, Tennessee, in 1884, the conductor demanded she move to the other car..[6] She refused on the basis that she had bought a first class ticket. When the conductor realized she would not move, he tried forcefully to remove her, and Wells-Barnett responded by biting him. The conductor then obtained assistance from a baggage man to remove her, and she got off the train refusing to remain on it in the smoking car. She then hired a lawyer and sued the railroad company. Initially, she succeeded in her suit, but, when the railroad company appealed the decision, the state Supreme Court reversed the decision. Wells-Barnett’s disappointment in the reversal was not only because of the betrayal of her initial lawyer and his retaliation against her, (for he did not appear concerned about winning the appeal and Wells-Barnett removed him from the case, and the debt generated by the court cases), but also because she hoped this ruling would extend to all African Americans.[7] In spite of this set back, she published an account of this lawsuit in the Living Way, a weekly religious newspaper.[8] This incident was demonstrative of how Wells-Barnett resisted the status quo in several areas of her life. She did not tolerate discrimination and consistently challenged the Jim Crow laws that dehumanized Black people. She documented injustice, and through her writings she hoped to go beyond delineating racial oppression in order to encourage African Americans to mobilize and demand equality. Wells-Barnett’s strong sense of self, and her belief that all African Americans should have full rights as citizens, contrasted sharply with the white sentiment towards Blacks in the South. Her writings also reflected her passion for Black Americans to experience the benefits of citizenship.[9] Another event that reflects Wells-Barnett’s morality and willingness to stand for her beliefs was between 1900 and 1901 when the pastor of the Bethel A.M.E. (African Methodist Episcopal), Reverend Abraham Lincoln Murray was accused of making inappropriate advances towards a married female member whose spouse was on the church board. After receiving promises from the one of denomination’s leaders, Bishop Abraham Grant, that Murray would be removed from his position, the Bishop acceded to the opinion of the congregation and allowed Murray to return to the pulpit. She was shocked that “such immoral conduct” was being condoned and let the Bishop know that in spite of her long attendance at the church, (married there and establish Chicago’s first black kindergarten at the church), she and her family would be leaving the church.[10] Shortly after becoming a member of her new church, Grace Presbyterian, Wells-Barnett was asked to lead the men’s Bible study. In this group, she and the young men, ranging in age from eighteen to thirty years old, examined the Scriptures and discussed ways to apply the Word to their lives. From her writings it is very clear that the Bible inspired her to take action against injustice in all of its forms. Hence, it was not surprising that her Bible study would follow in her footsteps. Disturbed by the riots in Springfield, Illinois that led to three Black men being lynched in 1908, some members from the Bible study and Wells-Barnett formed the Negro Fellowship League in order to address racial violence and discrimination.[11] These episodes make clear that Wells-Barnett’s personal convictions and her faith emboldened her to stand for what was right even if these actions did not line up with Black male leaders. Her knowledge of the Bible and her desire for justice would not allow her to follow pastors, particularly when she knew they were not living to the standard put forth in God’s word or advising members on issues where their knowledge was often limited such as the dramatic arts. The start of her anti-lynching activity occurred when a close friend and two of his associates were lynched in March 1892, the year in which the number of recorded lynchings reached an all-time high. Prior to their deaths, Wells-Barnett, like many African Americans, believed that mob violence by whites directed against both Black men and women was due to the presumed rape of white women. Since Wells-Barnett knew her friend and his partners did not commit this crime, she was motivated to question not only the death of these men but also the majority of lynchings. Through her research, she found that the only “crime” her friend and his colleagues had committed was being a business competitor to the white grocer in town. The death of her friend started a chain of events that shaped and altered her life significantly. At this time she co-owned and edited Memphis’s Black newspaper, the Free Speech and Headlight, and she wrote an editorial that refuted the charge that these men died because they were rapists. Wells-Barnett emphasized that the men owned a business that put them in competition with a white grocery store and this was the central reason for the false rape charges. She also intimated that in addition to lynchings being triggered for economic reasons, not rape, they were also the result of the discovery of consensual sexual relations between African American men and European American women. After her editorial was published, an angry white mob destroyed the newspaper office while other associates of Wells-Barnett were attacked. Thankfully, they all survived. Wells-Barnett was in New York City when the Free Speech’s office was assailed and did not return to Memphis because of the threats on her life. A month after the destructive events in May 1892, she wrote an article for the New York Age that was later published as the pamphlet Southern Horrors, her first examination of lynchings using data and interviewers from primarily white sources.[12] Her desire for African Americans to experience the rights and benefits of citizenship was not limited to the political and economic arenas. She saw the potential for creativity in the performing arts that compelled her to contest the negative attitudes some African American communities held toward the theatre. For her, the possibilities the Pekin allowed Black performers, producers, writers, musicians, and audiences were worth the battle and effort to change the viewpoint many Black communities had toward the dramatic arts. Wells-Barnett worked to create artistic spaces of independence for African Americans. As the country became more segregated and opportunities for Blacks grew more limited, she supported various outlets that encouraged Black improvement or uplift. One of these activities was the dramatic arts. Wells-Barnett was a long time “theatre bug,” and as a young woman she studied the “part of Lady Macbeth’s ‘sleepwalking scene’ for a public reading.”[13] In a chapter from her autobiography, she discussed her efforts to encourage other Blacks to attend quality African American entertainment in the Chicago area in 1906. In the early twentieth century, the stage was still considered morally dubious.[14] Her retelling of the events that culminated in the success of the Pekin Theater, indicates that she felt the dramatic arts were a part of the full range of activities, political, economic, and social, that Black people should be able to experience without bias and prejudice. After meeting Bob Cole in Buffalo, New York, where she was delivering an address, she noted, “Mr. Cole remarked that Chicago had an institution of which we ought to be proud. He spoke of Mott’s Amusement Hall in connection with this saloon, and he said the decorum of the place was what had attracted his attention, and the acts put on there he thought quite creditable.”[15] Wells-Barnett stated she had “never been to Mr. Mott’s Amusement Hall and this was the first complimentary criticism I had ever heard about it.”[16] Hearing this positive review of the amusement hall from the renowned Mr. Cole made an impression on Wells-Barnett. As part of the Cole and Johnson vaudeville team, Cole significantly influenced early Black musical theatre. The shows his company performed moved away from minstrel stereotypes and brought in talented artists who did not rely on blackface caricatures. With this endorsement, it was not surprising that when Wells-Barnett was invited to the opening of Robert Motts’s Pekin Theater. She happily obliged. Her invitation stated that Motts “had abandoned the saloon.”[17] The removal of the drinking establishment and its conversion into a theatrical space along with Cole’s recommendation were positive actions that Wells-Barnett desired to encourage. The more steps Motts took towards making the theatre a reputable place, the more Wells-Barnett believed she could commit to supporting it. Moreover, removing the alcoholic establishment from the property created an opportunity for women to attend the theatre, as good Christian women, especially since those from middle-class Black families would not patronize a business serving liquor. Wells-Barnett was excited about the new opportunities this recent establishment could provide for African Americans. She wrote, “I at once went to his place and saw Mr. Motts for the first time to my knowledge and told him that I had come to congratulate him on the change of business - that the reports I had from his place had given me many a heartache and that we, Wells-Barnett and her husband, would be very glad to cooperate with him in his new venture.”[18] Shortly after receiving the invitation, she visited Motts. Though this was her first meeting with him, in her usual forthright manner, she did not hesitate to tell him how his previous business practices aggrieved her. Her boldness in this and other endeavors demonstrated why she often proved a formidable opponent or ardent promoter. Fortunately for Motts, Wells-Barnett and her spouse assisted Motts in this unique endeavor. Motts’s business associates had not been as supportive of his new theatre venture as he had hoped. As Wells-Barnett commented, “Realizing his disappointment, I told him that if he would give me use of the place in which to have a benefit for the [Frederick] Douglass Center, I was sure I could bring to him the support he ought to have, and at the same time make some money for the center.”[19] Wells-Barnett was aware that in order for campaigns for justice or businesses to succeed, they needed support, financially and otherwise. She was also conscious that her efforts would meet with some resistance. For some in Chicago’s African American communities, Motts’s theatre would always be linked to drinking, gambling, and other unsavory activities.[20] Nevertheless, Wells-Barnett was willing to go against popular opinion to do what she felt was right. Despite Mott’s past actions, Wells-Barnett felt the theatre was a worthwhile undertaking because it would be a space for the development of African American dramatic and musical talents. However, these activities would need financial support. With her past experiences as an activist for equality and justice for Blacks, Wells-Barnett was more than capable of raising funds and obtaining new patrons for the theatre. The money gleaned from the benefit would be used by the Fredrick Douglass Center, an organization founded in 1904 by Celia Parker Woolley, a white Unitarian minister and pastor from the north side of Chicago, to assist in its operations. The Douglass Center was created to foster communication between African Americans and European Americans “to promote better race relations, remove discriminatory practices, and encourage equal opportunity.”[21] While Wells-Barnett was aware that having the second annual benefit for the Douglass Center at the Pekin Theater would raise eyebrows, she moved forward with the fund raising event confident that after seeing the theatre and enjoying the various performers at the benefit, many in Chicago’s African American communities would start to regularly visit the theatre.[22] Using her connections, Wells-Barnett called together female associates to plan the benefit. “When some of them objected, I said that now Mr. Motts was engaged in a venture of a constructive nature, I thought it our duty to forget the past and help him; that if he was willing to invest his money in something uplifting for the race we all ought to help.[23] Wells-Barnett did have a challenge in convincing her colleagues that Motts had changed. According to Wells-Barnett biographer, Mildred Thompson, Robert T. Motts was a “reputed gambling lord.”[24] In spite of his reputation, she willingly invested her time and gathered support for this enterprise. The fact that he was developing a creative, theatrical space for African Americans was exciting to her. Since one of her lifetime goals was to see the improvement of Black people from all walks of life and because Motts’s theatre would provide opportunities for African Americans performers, writers, directors, stage managers, and musicians to advance and excel in their crafts, this plan resonated deeply with her. When one of the women complained that the project was merely free publicity for Motts, Wells-Barnett stated that “I, for one, was quite willing to give him the benefit of all the advertising we could do.”[25] Her prior experiences made her very aware that enterprises often succeeded or failed based on publicity. She knew that the theatre could succeed but that the “right” publicity would be essential for this success as some potential patrons may have to be persuaded to understand the benefits. This statement also marked Wells-Barnett’s active participation in the project. Once she gained Motts’s approval of her plan, she set about to execute a successful fund-raiser. Wells-Barnett’s passion for this plan was evident as she outlined Motts’s project: “I described the beautiful little gem of a theater which he had created; told of the stock company of colored actors he had gathered together; of the Negro orchestra composed entirely of our own musicians, and how all employees from the young man in the box office were members of our race, and how proud I was to see a payroll upward of a hundred persons employed by him.[26] Her description of the theatre as a “beautiful little gem” was further evidence of her attachment to the project.[27] Whatever history had been tied to the theatre she was willing to be one of the authors of its new history. The success of this new theatre would not only aid Motts but also enrich the lives of those who enjoyed dramatic entertainment as well as the lives of the employees. African American men and women in the theatrical arts would have a venue where they could hone their skills. And, based on the success of the enterprise, the acting troupe would be able to broaden and expand because they would have a permanent residence. Additionally, Black musicians would also have the chance to increase their technical and artistic proficiency. Aside from these advantages the theatre would provide, Wells-Barnett added one more. As she remarked, “I felt that the race owed Mr. Motts a debt of gratitude for giving us a theater in which we could sit anywhere we chose without any restrictions.”[28] Being able to choose where one sat was no small thing for Black people in the early twentieth century. Jim Crow laws had stripped away the rights of African Americans and segregated them at this time, making every day a day of indignity for them. Hence, Motts providing a theatre went beyond employment opportunities and a space for artistic performance and enjoyment; it also meant freedom from unjust treatment when engaging in leisure activities. Having spaces in which African American women (and men) could exist without fear of racial oppression was critical for the development of an identity outside of societal expectations. These spaces were usually all-Black and the stage became a place where people felt there was an opportunity for self-expression. While Black entertainers could not be entirely free when they performed before European American audiences, there were fewer inhibitions when they performed for African American audiences. Actresses could portray dramatic and romantic figures – parts they were not encouraged to take on in front of majority crowds.[29] In addition to the increased freedom performers had in Black theatres, patrons had expanded freedom as well. African American audiences were not relegated to the balcony or “nigger heaven” as they would be in segregated white venues. They could choose their seats and how they would enjoy their entertainment. Gaining these options through this space is clearly one of the reasons the creation of an African American theatre was so important to Wells-Barnett. She was able to see the wonderful potential, creatively and otherwise, that this establishment could bring to Black people. Wells-Barnett’s organizational skills were well suited for theatre fund-raising. After selecting 100 women to be patronesses, the group established ticket prices. “The price of the tickets was raised from twenty-five, thirty-five, and fifty cents to $1.50 to $2.00 for box seats. Being a novel idea, it became very popular.”[30] Like any good economic strategist, Wells-Barnett knew what she could ask of her contributors. She was clearly targeting African American women of middle class or higher standing because the cost would not have been practical for other communities. The endeavor became very popular, and she attributed part of the success of the project to the creativity of her committee. Another reason for the benefit’s future success was because of the interest it generated in local churches. In addition to lobbying for spaces where African Americans could develop their artistic talents, Wells-Barnett tackled reservations Blacks may have held against the theatre on religious grounds. In her campaign to alter attitudes, she directly addressed concerns about the Pekin and its former reputation by providing the facts she knew about the establishment from her interactions with owner Robert Motts. These were the same tactics and techniques she deployed in her anti-lynching work where she was able to confront the lie of rape and other character attacks on lynching victims through her interviews with those involved in the lynching and her research on what actually triggered these murders. While some may have been intimidated to challenge church leaders, Wells-Barnett took on Chicago clergy’s myopic view of the dramatic arts through her literal battle with religious leaders because she orchestrated a benefit for the Douglass Center at the Pekin Theater. The benefit fundraising efforts proceeded smoothly until one of the local pastors heard about the event. According to Wells-Barnett, “Rev. A. J. Carey, Sr., then pastor of Bethel A.M.E. Church, preached a sermon which he prefaced by saying that members of his church had received invitations to be patronesses at the benefit at the Pekin Theater and had asked his advice. He then launched out into a denunciation of the movement, the theater, and the owner.”[31] As pastor of one of the major African American denominations, Reverend Carey was very influential in Chicago. Hence, his sermon rebuking those associated with the fundraiser may have intimidated other women. Wells-Barnett, however, was not one to shy away from a challenge. She was cognizant of the negative associations many held regarding the theatre, but she also knew that talented men, like Bob Cole, were creating art that celebrated the Black experience. She would not allow the short-sightedness of Reverend Carey and other clergy to inhibit opportunities for African American development. Moreover, Wells-Barnett was not deterred by Carey’s remarks because he had supported the previous Bethel A.M.E. pastor Abraham Lincoln Murray, who had been accused of sexual harassment. She had left Bethel A.M.E because of Murray’s actions and the fact that the church’s leadership did not remove him from his post.[32] The Pekin Theater would be a respite for Black women and men from racial oppression, provide a space for performers to further develop their artistic abilities, and for theatre-goers to experience open-seating. Undeterred by Reverend Carey, Wells-Barnett viewed the incident as positive publicity. She sarcastically observed that “Mr. Carey was serving splendidly as a press agent for the benefit. He wrote a synopsis of this sermon which he sent to every Negro newspaper on the South Side.”[33] Carey’s efforts to publicize his sermon throughout Chicago could have influenced many African Americans not approached by Wells-Barnett’s committee. Her attitude toward Carey reflected that of a woman experienced with verbal intimidation. Clearly, Reverend Carey had forgotten this woman knew how to overcome threats, verbal and otherwise, as she did in the years when she campaigned against lynching. Moreover, she did not view his attack on the benefit as being directed against her but against the theatre (and possibly it’s morally questionable owner Motts). She was also aware that Carey’s intention to derail the event would very likely not come to fruition; she had confidence that Black people would see the Pekin Theater as a chance for cultural entertainment. And she knew how to thwart Carey’s attempt to circulate his sermon through city newspapers. As a former journalist and editor, Wells-Barnett retained her connections with newspapers even after she had retired from that profession. One of those editors gave her a copy of Carey’s text. She learned that another editor from the Chicago Conservator had planned to publish the sermon.[34] At this point, Wells-Barnett’s husband, Ferdinand, assisted his wife by hiring a lawyer, Edward Wright. “Mr. Wright thereupon prepared a notice which was served upon the owner of the Conservator, the editor, and the Western Newspaper Union which printed it. The notice declared that if the article [Carey’s sermon] denouncing the benefit appeared all three would be sued for damages in the name of the center.”[35] This series of events demonstrated not only Wells-Barnett’s conceptualization of herself outside of societal expectations (Black or White), but also her skills as a strategist. Her knowledge of press operations assisted her in circumventing Carey's attack. The employment of a lawyer was clearly demonstrative of Wells-Barnett's past approaches to challenges, but ironically, her maneuvers appear to have confused her male opponents, who did not anticipate a woman acting in such a manner. Needless to say, the article was not published, but the fracas did not end there. Reverend Carey was a resilient foe and the following Sunday he "gave us another hour's denunciation from his pulpit. He read the notice which had been served on the editor, signed by Ida B. Wells-Barnett and Robert T. Motts, [and he described them as a] would-be race leader and the keeper of a low gambling dive.”[36] Carey went on to deliver another sermon at another church, Olivet Baptist, and continued his disparaging remarks. While his comments regarding Motts were not surprising, his phrase describing Wells-Barnett revealed his contempt at being challenged by a woman. Carey's attempt to disregard her multiple contributions to African American communities displayed his desperation. He was clearly not accustomed to people, especially women, disagreeing with him, and Wells-Barnett's disregard and determination to follow her own well developed morality provoked his ire. Furthermore, his attempted dismissal of Wells-Barnett was demonstrative of the sexism other Black male leaders like Carter Woodson and W. E. B. Du Bois showed as well.[37] As a devout Christian and Bible teacher, Wells-Barnett knew that one should respect pastors and clergy. Nevertheless, her knowledge of the Bible, as well as her sense of self, would not allow her to blindly follow the direction of misguided leaders. She not only resisted white hegemonic notions of Black femininity, but Black male sexism as well. She occupied a unique position because though she was an influential African American female leader in Chicago in her later life, she did not conform to elitist notions of class. If she had conformed to Black ideas regarding the theatre at the turn of the century, she would have sided with Carey and the other clergy. Moreover, she learned from Motts first-hand how his theatre would operate and the kinds of material to be showcased. If Motts’s plans had been morally objectionable, she never would have held her fund-raising event at the Pekin Theater. Although the support of local clergy would have made the campaign for the theatre less controversial, Wells-Barnett did not allow the opinions of uninformed church leaders to persuade her. Carey continued his campaign against the theatre and brought his concerns to an alliance of ministers. These clergy formed a committee and attempted to stop the benefit by appealing to Mrs. Wooley, a Unitarian pastor and founder of the Douglass Center, to stop the center’s involvement and promotion of the theatre.[38] As part of their request, the group of clergy “promised to set aside a Sunday and take a collection for the benefit of the center if it really was in need of money.”[39] The willingness of the clergy to redirect their own church offerings to the center exposed how serious they were in wanting to prevent the benefit from occurring at the theatre. The pastors had apparently forgotten that one of the three families Mrs. Wooley contacted when she decided to establish the center was the Barnetts. The Ministerial Alliance had also not foreseen the strength of the connections that Wells-Barnett had developed in Chicago. Not only was she notable for her national and international social activism and her work in Chicago (she established a kindergarten for Black children at Bethel A.M.E. Church and a women’s club was named after her), her husband was an attorney and prominent politician. “Mrs. Wooley heard them through, reminded herself of their opposition to the establishment of the center itself, and that at no time during its existence had the ministers ever visited her in body before, simply told them she had asked Mrs. Barnett to give some one big thing, out of which money might be made for the needs of the center and that she did not feel justified in interfering with the plans I had made.”[40] The pastors had not anticipated that their previous opposition to the center would have future ramifications. Mrs. Wooley created the center because she wanted a place where African Americans and whites could meet, discuss issues, and improve relations between the races. Since these men had resisted the center, Mrs. Wooley now was leery of their offer of assistance, even if it was from their own offerings. Wooley’s support may have had more to do with not wanting to cross Wells-Barnett on this particular issue as the women did not always see eye-to-eye.[41] Wooley also “declined to accept their offer of a collection, reminding them that their churches all were in debt and she thought they would need their offering for themselves.”[42]This statement, from Wells-Barnett’s autobiography, concurred with her distrust of those who abused their pastoral authority – these clergy had not determined the facts, attempted to incite their congregations against the theatre, condemned its owner, and were willing to use their offerings as a bribe for an establishment, the Frederick Douglass Center, which they found reprehensible two years ago. Since none of these men was her pastor, and they proved to be questionable regarding the Pekin Theater, Wells-Barnett felt justified in disregarding the request of the clergy. Wells-Barnett encountered two other setbacks prior to the benefit. The first came from the editor of the Daily News. Wells-Barnett had wanted the paper to print her announcement of the event. Charles Fay, the editor, declined to do so based on the past reputation of the theatre. Though this was disappointing, she was able to use other newspapers to publicize the event. The second impediment was the cancellation by one of the groups performing for the benefit. Anna Morgan ran a successful studio and “had promised to have that year’s graduating class give us a play.”[43] Unfortunately, Morgan did not notify Wells-Barnett of her change of plans until after “tickets and some literature had been printed.”[44] Though Morgan did offer to repay Wells-Barnett for the expenditures incurred, Morgan felt she had to cancel this engagement “because she had learned of the Pekin’s notorious reputation; that the young ladies in her school of acting had come from the best families of the city and that she could not afford to take them into such a place.”[45] Morgan had been able to train women from reputable families and was concerned for the reputation of her students. One could argue that she had legitimate apprehension in light of Motts’s and his establishment’s character. What complicated and nullified her concern was the fact that Wells-Barnett and her colleagues were sponsoring the event. Wells-Barnett would not have attached herself to an occasion that would impugn the reputation of African American women. Most of her activism involved making it clear to the general public that Black women were hard working and virtuous. Morgan’s withdrawal may have been encouraged as a final effort on the part of the Ministerial Alliance. Clearly disappointed by Morgan’s actions, Wells-Barnett’s response exemplified her frustration with those who allowed themselves to be controlled by public opinion. “My reply to Miss Morgan was not very diplomatic, I grant, but I said to her that her young ladies could not have a very secure hold on their reputations if giving one night’s performance would cause them to lose them.”[46] Though Wells-Barnett was active in dispelling myths about the moral degeneracy of African American women, she also knew there were times when one had to honor prior commitments. One performance at the Pekin Theater for the Frederick Douglass Center should not mar the reputation of Morgan’s students. For Wells-Barnett, addressing injustice and inequality often demanded functioning outside of societal norms. If she had adhered to the mores of educated, middle-class African Americans, she never would have started her campaign against lynching. Fortunately, Wells-Barnett believed that the issue of lynching (and other injustices) urgently needed to be exposed and stopped. Since she knew she was a woman of high moral standards, Wells-Barnett did not allow sexist ideologies to prevent her from being in the public sphere. “In spite of all the opposition,” Wells-Barnett writes, “the benefit was a huge success. The society leaders vied with each other in their box parties and the house was filled with the most representative members of our race. It gave them a chance to see what perhaps they would have been years in realizing, what a very auspicious effort was being made right here in our town by a man who sincerely wanted to do better things.”[47] The event’s success was not only demonstrated by the amount of money raised, $500 which was the average cost of a car in 1906, but also viewed as an achievement by the local papers who praised the event as well.[48] It also was a triumph because Wells-Barnett was confident the event had planted a positive vision about the theatre in the minds of others. Through the benefit, many Blacks witnessed that the theatre was not disreputable. The Pekin provided a space where African American performers, writers, and musicians could operate and develop their respective skills without having to cater to European American audiences. The Chicago American noted in 1906 that it was, “the only theater in the country, probably the only regular playhouse in the world, owned, managed, and conducted by colored people, presenting with a stock company of colored artists, original musical comedies, farces and plays written and composed by colored men in this city.”[49] In March 1906, the first play presented in the remodeled theatre (a fire had destroyed the interior of the theatre) was the three-act musical comedy The Man from ‘Bam, written by Flournoy Miller and Aubrey Lyles, who went onto to write the Broadway hit and Black musical comedy Shuffle Along in 1921, “book by Collin Davis, lyrics by Arthur Gillespie, and music by Joe Jordan.”[50] In its initial months, the theatre exhibited new and mostly original productions, usually musical comedies or farces, every two to three weeks. Other shows performed at the Pekin were “The Mayor of Dixie, Two African Princes, My Friend From Georgia, In Zululand, Captain Rufus, Count of No Account, One Round of Pleasure, and Doctor Dope.”[51] The Pekin’s stage manager was Charles Sager, its producing director was J. Ed. Green, the resident director of music was Joe Jordan, and its composers Will Vodery and Lawrence Freeman.[52] Some of the acting talent developed at the Pekin “included Lawrence Chenault, J. Francis Mores, Charles Gilpin, the prima donnas Lottie Grady and Rosa Lee Tyler, Pearl Brown and, later, Abbie Mitchell.”[53] Green was an actor, playwright, and manager as well as the producing director. In addition to Gilpin, who gained national prominence in Eugene O’Neill’s play, The Emperor Jones, Green and actor Harrison Stewart were two of the brightest stars of the theatre according to theatre scholars Errol Hill and James Hatch. Hence as Wells-Barnett noted, “It has been a very great pleasure to remember that many of the leading actors and actresses in the race got their first training in Bob Motts’s stock company. The same is true of the musicians.”[54] Shortly after the benefit, prominent Black organizations in Chicago used the Pekin for events and one of the pastors who vowed never to step foot in the theatre made a speech there for a political meeting. With the theatre’s increased popularity, Motts tried to build upon its reputation. He sent “two recent productions [Captain Rufus and The Husband] to New York during the summer for a short two-week stay at Hurtig and Seaman’s Music Hall in Harlem” in 1907.[55] Though Motts seemed to have wanted to attract investors to his theatrical endeavors, his scheme made New Yorkers desire their own all Black playhouse with performers and musicians. Wells-Barnett’s efforts to alter attitudes about the theatre in Chicago occurred simultaneously to critics of the stage gaining importance in national newspapers. Black newspapers informed Black communities about political, economic, and social events, and many papers also shared their views on how these events affected African Americans. These organs also covered African American entertainers and were not shy about criticizing performances they felt perpetuated racist ideas about Blacks. Sylvester Russell was the first African American theatre critic to receive recognition nationally. He was a former singer and wrote for the Indianapolis Freeman from approximately 1900 to 1910 and later for the Chicago Defender.[56] Scholar Henry T. Sampson notes that Russell’s “graphic and detailed show reviews and other theatrical commentary” reflect the ways Black entertainment was viewed by a “contemporary observer.”[57] Though some performers disliked his criticism, it gained favor when entertainers and audiences realized his desire was to improve the quality of African American performance.[58] As Russell grew in stature, other Black newspapers hired writers to examine the dramatic arts. Another prominent writer is Lester Walton, who wrote for The New York Age as their drama (and later film) critic. Like Russell, Walton was involved in the theatre as a song writer, playwright, manager, and producer both prior to and after his assignment with The Age. Walton was a founding member of the Frogs, Inc., a theatrical club in New York City with other African American entertainers such as Bert Williams and George Walker.[59] Walton and Russell brought seriousness and respectability in their examination and review of Black entertainment and their writings along with Wells-Barnett’s bringing new audiences to the Pekin theatre change how African Americans thought about the performing arts. As perceptions about the theatre changed, the Pekin inspired other African Americans nationally to create local legitimate professional Black theatres. Wells-Barnett observed that “other parts of the country encouraged by our success also established theaters of their own among our people and many of them were called Pekin Theaters.”[60] According to Bernard Peterson, there were at least seven other Pekin Theaters in existence in the early twentieth century and the Indianapolis Freeman noted in an article dated 10 May 1910 that there were 53 Black theatres “owned and managed by Negroes.”[61] Though she had faced opposition, Wells-Barnett belief in the importance of this project created a vision that went beyond Chicago. Theatres for African Americans throughout the nation spoke of self-reliance and entrepreneurship along with the formation of Black theatrical companies, managers, and musician staffs. Though not all of the theatres were owned and operated by African Americans, these were spaces where Blacks did not have to endure discrimination and had the opportunity to develop artistically. With the benefit of hindsight (she wrote her autobiography in the 1920s or 1930s), Wells-Barnett could celebrate the success of the Pekin Theater. Not only was it a theatre with an African Americans stock company, it was the first and for many years the only playhouse where plays were created and produced by Black talent.[62] Wells-Barnett swayed public opinion in African American communities at a time when Black women were invisible and not considered human beings by the larger public. It was also a time when ideologies in Black communities, particularly middle-class groups, restricted women’s work. While some African Americans would have been troubled by the career of a married woman, the public life of Wells-Barnett demonstrated how women could conduct themselves in public. Interestingly, she found the stage a place where a greater opportunity for African American self-expression existed. Despite the moral concerns regarding entertainment and the racist images and imaginings about Black women throughout American culture, she worked to dispel myths regarding the theatre; she would not allow public perception of proper female behavior to prevent her from challenging negative attitudes about the theatre. Her belief in herself empowered her to constantly consider the possibilities and not the barriers. Moreover, Wells-Barnett desired to inspire others and ensure that African American achievement in the dramatic arts and beyond would not stop with her death. Karen Bowdre is currently an independent scholar, who has published on African American media and romantic comedies in Black Camera: An International Film Journal, Falling in Love Again: The Contemporary Romantic Comedy, and Cinema Journal. Her research interests include race and representation, gender, early African American theatre history, adaptation, romantic comedies, telefantasy, and telenovelas. Her book Shades of Love: African Americans and the Hollywood Romantic Comedy is forthcoming from University of Illinois Press. She is also the co-editor of From Madea to Media Mogul: Critical Perspectives on Tyler Perry which is forthcoming with University of Mississippi Press. [1] According to Professor Edward Robinson, the Pekin first opened as the “Temple of Music” on 18 June 1905 and was rebuilt in 1906. See Edward A. Robinson, “The Pekin: The Genesis of American Black Theater,” Black American Literature Forum 16, no. 4, Black Theatre Issue (Winter 1982): 136-138. The only mention of Wells-Barnett’s work with theatre I have found was in Errol Hill and James Hatch’s comprehensive work on Black theatre: Errol Hill and James Hatch, A History of African American Theatre (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2003), 191. [2] Hill and Hatch, History, 216-217. Errol Hill ascribes Du Bois’ description of Black theatre to an article believed written by the latter in The Crisis, XXII:3 (July 1926), 134 titled “‘Krigwa Players’ Little Theatre Movement.” See Hill, “Black Black Theatre in Form and Style,” The Black Scholar 10, no. 10, Black Theatre (July/August 1979): 29-31. Another example of a Black female intellectual and her contributions to theatre being overlooked can be found in Monica Smith Ndounou’s exceptional essay on Anna Julia Cooper. Ndounou, “Drama for ‘Neglected People’: Recovering Anna Julia Cooper’s Dramatic Theory and Criticism from the Shadow of W. E. B. Du Bois and Alain Locke” Journal of Dramatic Theory and Criticism (Fall 2012): 25-50. [3] Uplift ideology is described by Kevin Gaines as a “self-help ideology” employed by the Black elite to separate themselves as being better than other African Americans because of their education and class status. Gaines views these elites as being ministers, intellectuals, journalists, and reformers and throughout his text references Wells-Barnett as an elite. Kevin K. Gaines, Uplifting the Race: Black Leadership, Politics, and Culture in the Twentieth Century (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 1996), 13, 44-45, 79-80. Though Gaines does acknowledge her elite position was often dismissed by sexist Black men, she does not fit neatly in this category, as her views about class alter over time. For example, when Wells-Barnett had two suits pending in the Tennessee Supreme Court regarding her removal from the ladies car of a train, she resented the fact that affluent Blacks used their money to “bypass the indignities of discrimination rather than [defend] their race.” Mia Bay, To Tell the Truth Freely: The Life of Ida B. Wells (New York: Hill and Wang, 2009), 57. [4] Historians Mia Bay and Paula Giddings document how during Wells-Barnett’s lifetime her accomplishments were not acknowledged by other African American leaders and in Black history; both attribute this to sexism operating within Black communities. Bay, To Tell, 3-13. Paula J. Giddings, Ida: A Sword Among Lions: Ida B. Wells and the Campaign Against Lynching (New York: Amistad, 2008), 1-7. [5] Since Wells-Barnett was a significant figure prior to her marriage to Ferdinand Barnett in June 1895, many biographers only use her maiden name when discussing her prior to her marriage. In this chapter, my main focus is her work for the Pekin Theatre (when she was married) but in order to give background information, I also reference her achievements prior to her marriage. In order to avoid confusion, I use her married name throughout my text. [6] This incident shows the changing nature of Jim Crow laws. Wells-Barnett had ridden this same route on the ladies car in the past without problems or altercations. [7]. Bay delineates the lawyer controversy in her biography of Wells-Barnett. The initial lawyer on the case, Thomas Cassells, was an important African American lawyer and politician. Because of his disinterest, she fired him and hired James M. Greer, a European American. Cassells became one of Wells-Barnett’s lifelong enemies. Bay, To Tell, 45-58. [8] Mildred I. Thompson, Ida B. Wells-Barnett: An Exploratory Study of an American Black Woman, 1893-1930 (New York: Carlson Publishing, 1990), 11-14. [9] Bay notes the importance of Reconstruction to Wells-Barnett and how it and her parents shaped her ideas concerning equality and rights. Bay, To Tell, 15-17. [10] Alfreda M. Duster (ed), The Crusade for Justice: The Autobiography of Ida B. Wells (Chicago: The University of Chicago Press, 1970), 298, Giddings, Ida: A Sword, 439 and Bay, To Tell, 281. [11] Giddings, Ida: A Sword, 472 and Bay, To Tell, 282. [12] Wells-Barnett’s best known pamphlets are Southern Horrors (1892), A Red Record (1895) and Mob Rule in New Orleans (1900). Giddings, Ida: A Sword, 1-3. [13] Daphne A. Brooks, Bodies in Dissent: Spectacular Performances of Race and Freedom, 1850-1910 (Durham: Duke University Press, 2006), 281-2, Giddings, Ida: A Sword, 12. [14] Robert Allen unpacks several transgressive moments on theatrical stages such as burlesque that include women impersonating men and creating a spectacle that unnerved middle class audiences and critics. Allen, Horrible Prettiness: Burlesque and American Culture (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 1991). [15] Duster, The Crusade, 289. Bob Cole was another notable African American vaudeville entertainer. In addition to being a talented performer and part of the Cole and Johnson team, he was also a stage manager and playwright for his own stock company. For more information on Cole and Johnson see Seniors’, Beyond Lift Every Voice and Sing: The Culture and Uplift, Identity, and Politics in Black Musical Theater (Columbus: The Ohio State University Press, 2009), 178. [16] Duster, The Crusade, 289-290. [17] Ibid, 290. [18] Ibid. [19] Ibid. [20] Giddings reports that once members of various African American groups realized the benefit for the Douglass Center would be held at the New Pekin controversy surrounded the event. Giddings, Ida: A Sword, 458. [21] Giddings, Ida: A Sword, 447. [22] Giddings, Ida: A Sword, 453-461. [23] Duster, The Crusade, 290. [24] Thompson, Ida B. Wells-Barnett, 112. [25] Duster, The Crusade, 290. [26] Ida Wells-Barnett describing the Pekin Theatre and owner Robert Motts. Duster, The Crusade 290. [27] Ibid. [28] Ibid. [29] Aida Overton Walker, a choreographer, actress, and singer, discussed the limitations forced on African American performers: You haven’t the faintest conception of the difficulties which must be overcome, of the prejudices which must be left slumbering, of the things we must avoid whenever we write or sing a piece of music, put on a play or sketch, walk out in the street or land in a new town. No white can understand these things. Every little thing we do must be thought out and arranged by Negroes, because they alone can know how easy it is for a colored show to offend a white audience. Let me give you an example. In all the ten years that I have appeared in and helped produce a great many plays of a musical nature, there has never been even the remotest suspicion of a love story in any of them. During those ten years I do not think there have ever been a single white company which has produced any kind of musical play in which a love story was not the central motive. Now, why is this? It’s not accident or because we don’t want to put on plays as beautiful and artistic in every way as do white actors, but because there is a popular prejudice against love scenes enacted by Negroes. This is just one of the ten thousand things we must think of every time we make a step. The public does not appreciate our limitations, or, rather, the limitations which other persons have made for us. Chicago Herald, dated 10 January (year missing) clipping, Robinson Locke Collection, The New York Public Library for the Performing Arts at Lincoln Center. [30] Duster, The Crusade, 291. [31] Ibid. [32] Giddings, Ida: A Sword, 439. [33] Duster, The Crusade, 291. [34] In 1878, Ferdinand Barnett founded the Chicago Conservator, one of the first African American newspapers in the Chicago area (see Thompson, Ida B. Wells-Barnett, 48). Later, Wells-Barnett would join the staff of the paper and become an editor. This incident occurred after both had sold their interest in the paper. [35] Duster, The Crusade, 291. [36] Ibid, 291-292. [37] Wells-Barnett was upset Carter Woodson had not mentioned her anti-lynching work in his history of significant African Americans. See Linda O. McMurry's To Keep the Waters Troubled: The Life of Ida B. Wells (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2000), 336. And Patricia A. Schechter in her essay, The Anti-Lynching Pamphlets of Ida B. Wells, 1892-1920, http://dig.lib.niu.edu/gildedage/idabwells/pamphlets.html (accessed 8 Oct. 2014), observes that "(a)t her death in 1931, for example, W.E.B. Du Bois wrote in National Association for the Advancement of Colored People's (NAACP) journal, The Crisis, that her work had been "easily forgotten" and "taken to greater success "by others." [38] Thompson, Ida B. Wells-Barnett, 94. [39] Duster, The Crusade, 292. [40] Ibid. [41] Though Wooley desired interracial interactions between African Americans and European Americans, she had a definite bias against poorer Blacks. She felt that “the ‘hordes’ of southern blacks, most of them ‘ignorant and dissolute,’ who ‘lowered the standard of the colored population in our midst’” Giddings, Ida: A Sword, 456. Wells-Barnett’s knowledge of how lynching victims were criminalized enabled her to have a view that people can “change for the better.” Ibid, 457. [42] Duster, The Crusade, 292. [43] Ibid, 293. [44] Ibid. [45] Ibid. [46] Ibid. [47] Ibid. [48] Giddings, Ida: A Sword, 458. Information regarding 1906 from website http://local.aaca.org/junior/mileposts/1906.htm. Accessed 8 Oct. 2014. [49] Hill and Hatch, History, 192. [50] Hill and Hatch, History, 192-193. [51] Ibid, 193. [52] While the other positions were listed by Hill and Hatch, the composers were listed by Bernard L. Peterson, Profiles of African American Stage Performers and Theatre People, 1816-1960 (Westport, Greenwood, 2000), xi. [53] Ibid. [54] Duster, The Crusade, 293. [55] Hill and Hatch, History, 194. Captain Rufus was written by J. Ed. Green and Alfred Anderson and the music came from H. Lawrence Freeman and Joseph Jordan; the play was set in the military and a musical comedy. The Husband was written by Miller and Lyles. [56] Peterson, Profiles, 220. Sylvester Russell wrote for The Chicago Defender’s “Musical and Dramatic” Column along with other writers. See Anna Everett’s Returning the Gaze: A Genealogy of Black Film Criticism, 1909-1949 (Durham: Duke UP, 2001), 18-35, for examples of Russell’s film criticism as well as Russell’s, 36-41. [57] Henry T. Sampson, The Ghost Walks: A Chronological History of Blacks in Show Business, 1865-1910, (Metuchen, NJ: The Scarecrow Press, Inc., 1988) 282 [58] Ibid, 293 [59]Peterson, Profiles, 252-253. Lester Walton was The New York Age’s theatre critic and editor of the column “Music and the Stage.” [60] Duster, The Crusade, 294 [61] Hill and Hatch, History, 199 [62]Ibid, 205-206. Ida Wells-Barnett and Chicago’s Pekin Theatre by Karen Bowdre ISNN 2376-4236 The Journal of American Drama and Theatre Volume 26, Number 3 (Fall 2014) ©2014 by Martin E. Segal Theatre Center Editorial Board: Co-Editors: Naomi J. Stubbs and James F. Wilson Advisory Editor: David Savran Founding Editors: Vera Mowry Roberts and Walter Meserve Editorial Staff: Managing Editor: Phoebe Rumsey Editorial Assistant: Fabian Escalona Advisory Board: Bill Demastes Amy E. Hughes Jorge Huerta Esther Kim Lee Kim Marra Beth Osborne Robert Vorlicky Maurya Wickstrom Stacy Wolf Esther Kim Lee Table of Contents: Ida Wells-Barnett and Chicago’s Pekin Theatre by Karen Bowdre History is Distance: Metaphor, Meaning, and Performance in Serenade/The Proposition by Ariel Nereson Tony Kushner’s Angels in America: Histories, Futures, and Queer Lives by Vanessa Campagna “Persian Like The Cat”: Crossing Borders with "The Axis of Evil Comedy Tour" by Tamara L. Smith www.jadtjournal.org jadt@gc.cuny.edu Martin E. Segal Theatre Center: Frank Hentschker, Executive Director Marvin Carlson, Director of Publications Rebecca Sheahan, Managing Director ©2014 by Martin E. Segal Theatre Center The Graduate Center CUNY Graduate Center 365 Fifth Avenue New York NY 10016 References Footnotes About The Author(s) Journal of American Drama & Theatre JADT publishes thoughtful and innovative work by leading scholars on theatre, drama, and performance in the Americas – past and present. Provocative articles provide valuable insight and information on the heritage of American theatre, as well as its continuing contribution to world literature and the performing arts. Founded in 1989 and previously edited by Professors Vera Mowry Roberts, Jane Bowers, and David Savran, this widely acclaimed peer reviewed journal is now edited by Dr. Benjamin Gillespie and Dr. Bess Rowen. Journal of American Drama and Theatre is a publication of the Martin E. Segal Theatre Center. Visit Journal Homepage Table of Contents - Current Issue Ida Wells-Barnett and Chicago’s Pekin Theatre History is Distance: Metaphor, Meaning, and Performance in Serenade/The Proposition Tony Kushner’s Angels in America: Histories, Futures, and Queer Lives “Persian Like The Cat”: Crossing Borders with The Axis of Evil Comedy Tour Previous Next Attribution: This entry is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 4.0 International license.

David Pellegrini Back to Top Untitled Article References Copy of References Authors Keep Reading < Back Journal of American Drama & Theatre Volume Issue 34 1 Visit Journal Homepage The Risk Theatre Model of Tragedy: Gambling, Drama, and the Unexpected. Edwin Wong. Victoria, Canada: Friesen Press, 2019; Pp. 363. David Pellegrini By Published on December 9, 2021 Download Article as PDF In 2019, the Langham Court Theatre in Victoria, British Columbia, Canada inaugurated the Risk Theatre Modern Tragedy Competition, awarding top prize ($8,000 Canadian) to In Bloom by Brooklyn-based playwright Gabriel Jason Dean. Selected from 182 new play submissions from 11 countries, In Bloom focuses on a “well-intentioned, but ultimately reckless documentary filmmaker in Afghanistan” whose actions led to the death of an Afghan boy—a tragedy he lies about in his award-winning memoir. This 21st century competition for tragic playwriting began as a partnership with classicist Edwin Wong, who lays out a blueprint for playwrights (and the competition’s rules) in The Risk Theatre Model of Tragedy: Gambling, Drama, and the Unexpected. Wong exalts three golden eras—ancient Greece; the English Renaissance; and German Romanticism—noting that after Eugene O’Neill, whom he cites as the last “true” tragedian in the Aeschylean tradition, tragic art largely vanished. That tradition is premised on a fairly simple formula, albeit with myriad variations: each dramatic action is also a gambling act involving varying degrees of unforeseen or unexpected risks. Wong’s goal with this book, like the contest, is to revivify this tragic principle for our contemporary age in which “low-probability, high consequence events lie in wait” (xxv). Although tragedy may have trafficked in uncertainty since its inception, Wong emphasizes the moral exigencies of examining the upside and downside values of risk and unintended consequences in an era in which there is an over-reliance on technology, nuclear energy, and the variabilities of global economic exchange. Wong’s overall argument in The Risk Theatre Model of Tragedy is erudite, elucidated with extensive passages from canonical and lesser-known works and a wide range of theoretical citations. He is partial to the troika, apropos of ancient trilogies, and efficient in outlining the tripartite structure by which characters confront temptation, make wagers, and cast dice. In the first three chapters, Wong elaborates on the gambling metaphor and constructs a lexicon of qualifying terms. His first major categorization is premised on “tempo”; specifically whether the three gambling acts are presented gradually over the course of a play; backloaded, in which time lapses between wager and die-cast to build suspense; or frontloaded, in which the wager occurs early with the bulk of action depicting the ensuing chaos. Nestled within these categories is the frequency of the wager, e.g., standalone, if it occurs once as in Marlowe’s Dr. Faustus; parallel-motion, in which several characters confront multiple risk events as demonstrated by O’Neill’s Strange Interlude; or perpetual-motion, whereby one wager generates subsequent wagers as in the Oresteia. Together, these first three chapters become a kind of periaktoi, the ancient, multi-surfaced scene-changing device conjectured by Vitruvius, underpinning Wong’s structural analysis. This first section grounds the third, “A Poetics of Tragedy: How to Write Risk Theatre,” providing playwrights with a comprehensive, formal analysis of the genre and a toolbox of dramaturgical strategies from which to choose. These “commonplaces” include the following features: a range of heroic types all driven by “white-hot” passions and best represented by elites since they have the most to lose; the interference of unreliable confidantes and meddlers; and dangerous, unstable environs, including, if necessary, the supernatural. As a writer, Wong’s associative style is entertaining, tempering what might appear to be an overly schematic approach. Moreover, when employing a wide range of ideas from social theory to the physical sciences to elucidate his foundational metaphor, Wong manages some impressive hypothetical risk-taking of his own. This audacity emerges most clearly in the book’s second and fourth sections in which Wong expounds on the philosophy of tragedy and galvanizes his case about risk theatre’s relevancy to modernity, respectively. For example, Wong poses an original paradigm (“the myth of the price you pay”) in which he traces how tragedy developed as a counter-force to the commodification of life via labor, when the psychic and existential dimensions of humanity such as camaraderie, desire, and honor became objects for philosophical contemplation. Tragedy, therefore, emerged when it became necessary to demonstrate that “what is worth possessing cannot be monetized” (107). Relatedly, Wong’s paradigm of “counter-monetization,” refers to the human costs of the wager depicted in tragedy—its irrevocability, gravity, and frequent culmination in death and destruction. The final, equally compelling strand of his argument surveys the time-bound parameters of tragic theories from the French Academy through Hegel and Nietzsche to arrive at our own “risk age,” in which “the scale of technology to do good or to do evil has increased, and continues to increase, by powers of ten” (262). There is much to admire in Wong’s argument, and it is remarkable how much the language of so many tragedies explicitly allude to gambling, economic costs, and risk-related values, both monetary and existential. Still, there are numerous counter-arguments advanced in the seemingly inexhaustible body of tragic theory that are noticeably absent or side-stepped in this study. For example, Wong’s opinion that the best tragic heroes come from a nobler breed legitimates the aristocratic bias rebuffed by practitioner/theorists from Lessing to Miller. Also, since he devalues the artificiality of the deus ex machina, Sophocles fares far better than Euripides, even though scholars have long argued that the latter’s subversion of tragic structure served to critique Attic social hypocrisies and cosmological fallacies. Further, feminist scholars will certainly reject the phallocentrism and linearity of what is, at base, a reformulation of Aristotelian and neoclassical models; it is noteworthy that Wong does not discuss any plays written by women. Relatedly, although Wong’s aim to rejuvenate tragic theatre is valiant, some consideration of film and, especially, any number of episodic television programs that veer towards tragedy would perfectly illustrate his parallel- and perpetual-motion categories since the cliff-hanger is predicated on temptation, wagers, and risks—and sometimes all three at once. Still, the fact that there were over three-hundred entries in the Langham Court Theatre competition in its first two years and that the top prizewinners, including most of the nine runners-up, are American suggests that risk theatre may well be a fitting response to an era in which the United States confronts improbable, (perhaps) unforeseeable, and oftentimes catastrophic events. References Footnotes About The Author(s) David Pellegrini Eastern Connecticut State University Journal of American Drama & Theatre JADT publishes thoughtful and innovative work by leading scholars on theatre, drama, and performance in the Americas – past and present. Provocative articles provide valuable insight and information on the heritage of American theatre, as well as its continuing contribution to world literature and the performing arts. Founded in 1989 and previously edited by Professors Vera Mowry Roberts, Jane Bowers, and David Savran, this widely acclaimed peer reviewed journal is now edited by Dr. Benjamin Gillespie and Dr. Bess Rowen. Journal of American Drama and Theatre is a publication of the Martin E. Segal Theatre Center. Visit Journal Homepage Table of Contents - Current Issue Performance and the Disney Theme Park Experience: The Tourist as Actor. Jennifer A. Kokai and Tom Robson, eds. Cham, Switzerland: Palgrave Macmillan, 2019; Pp. 292. The Risk Theatre Model of Tragedy: Gambling, Drama, and the Unexpected. Edwin Wong. Victoria, Canada: Friesen Press, 2019; Pp. 363. Susan Glaspell’s Poetics and Politics of Rebellion. Emeline Jouve. Iowa City, University of Iowa Press, 2017; Pp. 258. Radical Vision: A Biography of Lorraine Hansberry. Soyica Diggs Colbert. New Haven: Yale, 2021; Pp. 273. The Mysterious Murder of Mrs. Shakespeare: Transgressive Performance in Nineteenth-Century New York “What Will Be Changed?”: Maxwell Anderson and the Literary Legacy of Sacco and Vanzetti Theatre of Isolation “A Certain Man Had Two [Kids]”: Tragic Parables, “The Prodigal Son,” and Edward Albee's The Goat “Who Lives, Who Dies, Who Tells [Her] Story”: An Intersectional Analysis of the Women of Hamilton Previous Next Attribution: This entry is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 4.0 International license.

Watch Robert Wilson In Situ by Pauline de Grunne at the Segal Film Festival on Theatre and Performance 2026. A few days before the opening of the Watermill Center, Robert Wilson is in a race against the clock. This documentary captures Wilson in the process of taking possession of a vacant building on Long Island — a former Western Union research facility on the edge of the Shinnecock Reservation — and transforming it into an art center that will become one of the most significant residency spaces for experimental performance in the world. The film moves between Wilson's relationship to this specific physical endeavor and a broader reflection on his artistic history: he looks back at the Byrd Hoffman School of Byrds, the artistic community where his theatrical work began in the 1960s, and reflects on what it means to return to that spirit of collective creation and experimentation in a dedicated institutional form. Friends, collaborators, and artists Wilson has worked with over his career offer their perspectives on the man and his project — building a picture of Wilson not just as a theater director but as an educator, a gatherer of people, and a builder of community. As director Pauline de Grunne described it: "A few days before the opening of Watermill Center, Robert Wilson is in a race against the clock. After a decades-long international stage career, he looks back at the special laboratory that was the Byrd Hoffman School of Byrds, the artistic community where he got his start, and decides to return to his roots." — International Festival of Films on Art The Martin E. Segal Theater Center presents Robert Wilson In Situ Pauline de Grunne At the Segal Theatre Film and Performance Festival 2026 Screening Information This film will be screened on June 3 at 7:00 PM, at Anthology Film Archives RSVP Please note that these screenings are ticketed and require prior registration at the Anthology Film Archives website. Country Belgium / United States Language English Running Time 90 minutes Year of Release 2017 About The Film A few days before the opening of the Watermill Center, Robert Wilson is in a race against the clock. This documentary captures Wilson in the process of taking possession of a vacant building on Long Island — a former Western Union research facility on the edge of the Shinnecock Reservation — and transforming it into an art center that will become one of the most significant residency spaces for experimental performance in the world. The film moves between Wilson's relationship to this specific physical endeavor and a broader reflection on his artistic history: he looks back at the Byrd Hoffman School of Byrds, the artistic community where his theatrical work began in the 1960s, and reflects on what it means to return to that spirit of collective creation and experimentation in a dedicated institutional form. Friends, collaborators, and artists Wilson has worked with over his career offer their perspectives on the man and his project — building a picture of Wilson not just as a theater director but as an educator, a gatherer of people, and a builder of community. As director Pauline de Grunne described it: "A few days before the opening of Watermill Center, Robert Wilson is in a race against the clock. After a decades-long international stage career, he looks back at the special laboratory that was the Byrd Hoffman School of Byrds, the artistic community where he got his start, and decides to return to his roots." — International Festival of Films on Art Director: Pauline de Grunne Featuring: Robert Wilson About The Artist(s) Pauline de Grunne is a Belgian documentary filmmaker specializing in films about art and artists. Her work has screened at the International Festival of Films on Art (FIFA) and other international documentary festivals. Robert Wilson In Situ follows the theater director in the period around the opening of the Watermill Center on Long Island, weaving together personal testimony from Wilson's collaborators with footage of the Center's creation. Get in touch with the artist(s) and follow them on social media Find out all that’s happening at Segal Center Film Festival on Theatre and Performance (FTP) 2026 by following us on Facebook , Twitter , Instagram and YouTube See the full festival schedule here

Watch Skywalk Above Prague by Václav Flegl, Jakub Voves at the Segal Film Festival on Theatre and Performance 2025. An exciting documentary about an audacious, 400-metre tightrope walk across the River Vltava in Prague by the world famous tightrope artist Tatiana-Mosio Bongonga. The story of a search for inner strength and the art of balancing between Heaven and Earth. The opening show of the 2019 Letní Letná festival. Between Heaven and Earth high above Prague’s bridges, a French acrobat is walking. She is passing from one side of the Vltava to the other over a 350-meter tightrope. Her gait reflects absolute concentration and courage but also her faith and the attention of spectators standing on the ground with their heads tilted back in silent awe. This documentary allows the audience to watch this feat from the perspective of Tatiana standing on a rope 35 meters above the river.. The Martin E. Segal Theater Center presents Skywalk Above Prague At the Segal Theatre Film and Performance Festival 2025 A film by Václav Flegl, Jakub Voves Screening Information This film will be screened in-person at The Segal Centre on Friday May 16th at 8:10pm and also be available to watch online on the festival website till June 8th 2025. RSVP Please note there is limited seating available for in-person screenings at The Segal Centre, which are offered on a first-come first-serve basis. You may RSVP above to get a reminder about the Segal Film Festival in your inbox. Country Czech Republic Language Czech, French, English with subtitles in English Running Time 51 minutes Year of Release 2020 About The Film An exciting documentary about an audacious, 400-metre tightrope walk across the River Vltava in Prague by the world famous tightrope artist Tatiana-Mosio Bongonga. The story of a search for inner strength and the art of balancing between Heaven and Earth. The opening show of the 2019 Letní Letná festival. Between Heaven and Earth high above Prague’s bridges, a French acrobat is walking. She is passing from one side of the Vltava to the other over a 350-meter tightrope. Her gait reflects absolute concentration and courage but also her faith and the attention of spectators standing on the ground with their heads tilted back in silent awe. This documentary allows the audience to watch this feat from the perspective of Tatiana standing on a rope 35 meters above the river. About The Artist(s) Tatiana started tightrope walking when she was eight. She trained at Académie Fratellini and Center National des Arts du Cirque in Châlons-en-Champagne both of which are prestigious contemporary-circus institutions. Her teachers included Rudy Omankowski from a traditional circus family with Czech roots. Today, Tatiana mostly cooperates with choreographer Anna Rodriguez. She participated in major events, such as the Pan-African Festival of Algiers or the World Circus Festival where she won a gold medal. Get in touch with the artist(s) ivana.pekna@letniletna.cz and follow them on social media https://provazochodkynenadprahou.cz/en/homepage/, https://www.facebook.com/search/top?q=provazochodkyn%C4%9B%20nad%20prahou%20%2F%20skywalk%20above%20prague Find out all that’s happening at Segal Center Film Festival on Theatre and Performance (FTP) 2025 by following us on Facebook , Twitter , Instagram and YouTube See the full festival schedule here His Head was a Sledgehammer Richard Foreman in Retrospect Moi-même Mojo Lorwin/Lee Breuer Benjamim de Oliveira's Open Paths Catappum! Collective Peak Hour in the House Blue Ka Wing Transindigenous Assembly Joulia Strauss Bila Burba Duiren Wagua JJ Pauline L. Boulba, Aminata Labor, Lucie Brux Acting Sophie Fiennes; Cheek by Jowl; Lone Star; Amoeba Film PACI JULIETTE ROUDET Radical Move ANIELA GABRYEL Funambulism, Hanging by a Thread Jean-Baptiste Mathieu This is Ballroom Juru and Vitã Reas Lola Arias The Jacket Mathijs Poppe Pidikwe Caroline Monnet Resilience Juan David Padilla Vega The Brink of Dreams Nada Riyadh, Ayman El Amir Jesus and The Sea Ricarda Alvarenga Grand Theft Hamlet Sam Crane & Pinny Grylls Theater of War Oleh Halaidych Skywalk Above Prague Václav Flegl, Jakub Voves Somber Tides Chantal Caron / Fleuve Espace Danse

Donatella Galella, Dorinne Kondo, Esther Kim Lee, Josephine Lee, Sean Metzger, and Karen Shimakawa Back to Top Untitled Article References Copy of References Authors Keep Reading < Back Journal of American Drama & Theatre Volume Issue 34 2 Visit Journal Homepage Behind the Scenes of Asian American Theatre and Performance Studies Donatella Galella, Dorinne Kondo, Esther Kim Lee, Josephine Lee, Sean Metzger, and Karen Shimakawa By Published on May 21, 2022 Download Article as PDF For this historic issue on “Asian American Dramaturgies,” guest editor Donatella Galella brought together Dorinne Kondo, Esther Kim Lee, Josephine Lee, Sean Metzger, and Karen Shimakawa to reflect on currents of Asian American Theatre and Performance Studies. They discussed how they created and entered this field, even as they critically questioned a foundations-based framework that reifies some lines of study and inevitably leaves out others, as they themselves made up a select group available for this meeting. They tracked scholarly trends and concluded by sharing their hopes for Asian American theatre and performance on stage and in academia. A joyful gathering with multi-vocal storytelling, this conversation was held over Zoom on November 12, 2021. We hope that this roundtable will stimulate more conversations, more artist-scholars, and more histories of Asian American Theatre and Performance Studies. Donatella Galella : I’m so happy to see you today and to have this really important conversation on foundations of Asian American Theatre and Performance Studies. I see this as something that’s for us but also makes a major intervention in the larger field of Theatre and Performance Studies. I’m going to start with some questions that I circulated to you beforehand, and basically the trajectory is that I would like to invite you to reflect on the origins of this field, where you think it is now, and where you think it’s going. I’d love if we could start off hearing from everyone on how did you come into your research in Asian American Theatre and Performance Studies, and how would you articulate the foundations of this scholarly field? Esther Kim Lee : I was doing my PhD work at Ohio State University. I started there in 1995 and graduated in 2000. I was an ABD, and I had already chosen the dissertation topic, which was going to be on Korean mask drama. It was all proposed and all that stuff. Then I remember walking around the library, looking at some books to read. I was TA-ing a course on ethnic theatre, and I noticed that there was really nothing on Asian American theatre. There were whole rows of books about African American theatre, maybe a couple on Chicano theatre, but really nothing on Asian American theatre. I had to go to the literature section to find Jo’s book, or anthropology just to find Dorinne’s book. But in the theatre section, there was nothing there. So, I actually got angry, and I thought: this is not right. I decided to change my dissertation topic, and I took a tape recorder—and it was an actual tape recorder back then—and I said, I’ll talk to a handful of playwrights and actors and find out what’s going on. I thought it would be an easy dissertation to write, but I ended up interviewing dozens, and by the time I was done, seventy people. That’s how it grew into a bigger project. In that process, I remember emailing Jo as a graduate student, “You don’t know me, but…” that kind of email. I had to introduce myself. That was the first time we actually connected, and ever since then, Jo has been my mentor. So, just really piggybacking on the works by Dorinne, Jo, and Karen. I think Sean and I are somewhat contemporary. I still have boxes of the tapes, documenting the interviews, and my dissertation became my first book ( A History of Asian American Theatre ), so that’s how I got started. I guess it’s fitting that I’m speaking first because I’m kind of in the middle in many ways and benefited from my predecessors, and I work really well with Sean and continue to collaborate. Josephine Lee : I’ve always been interested in theatre. I grew up in the New York area, and I used to, as a kid, check out volumes of plays from the library and just read them. I wasn’t involved in theatre as a performer. I did take some acting classes, but I was always, like, terrified on stage. But I did actually do a bunch of playwriting classes when I was in college. One of my teachers was A. R. Gurney, Jr. He was a playwright, and I was at MIT at the time doing physics, but I took some classes with him, and he was the one who said—I think it was my third year there—“Hey, there’s this guy who’s in college, and he has a play going on at the Public Theater, and it’s called FOB , and his name is David Henry Hwang, and you should get a hold of it or maybe even go down there and volunteer to work on it.” At the time, I couldn’t do that, I mean, it was just not feasible. But I did get a hold of the script and looked at it, and I thought this was kind of cool, you know. I had always been aware of the Asian American movement. I have a few older cousins who are maybe about a decade older than I am who were very much involved in that and did historical scholarship. They were really active, and they always looked at me and said, “You’re part of the Me generation. You’re never going to reach the heights of social justice that we have.” So, I’ve been aware of Asian American politics from a pretty young age. But I didn’t really take on the Asian American theatre thing in earnest until later. I was in graduate school at a time when there really wasn’t anything available. I never took an Asian American lit class. I mean, I read a lot on my own, but no one talked about it. I basically did my thesis on Victorian and contemporary plays, Wilde and Shaw, and I did some work on Tom Stoppard. Then when I moved to LA for my first job, I was part of the LA Theatre Center’s Women’s Project, and I got connected with some folks. I got to meet with Wakako Yamauchi. I got to meet people from East West Players, which was super fun. Then around that time was when M. Butterfly won the Tony Award, and I was like whoa, you know? How come no one’s writing about these plays, right? So, I think the germ of an idea got started. But of course, at the time, I was still very much, I guess, in the kind of canonical, traditional world, writing about Pinter and Beckett, none of which got published. Then I went to teach at Smith College, and I got involved in an Asian American Studies collaborative with Mitziko Sawada at Hampshire College and others in the Five Colleges (Smith, Hampshire, Mt. Holyoke, Amherst, and UMass-Amherst). At the time, they didn’t have their Five College Asian American Studies Program going, but I was part of that group that was teaching classes. I taught a class on Asian American theatre because Roberta Uno was just so inspiring, and we had the beginnings of the archival collection at UMass there, and there was New WORLD Theater. It was just a great time for me in terms of shifting what I wanted my scholarly trajectory to be, you know, something that I wasn’t educated in, so it took me some time to learn the ropes. When I took the job at Minnesota, I decided I was done with the modern British stuff. I was going to take a different route, and my first book was Performing Asian America . At that time, I just was so excited to have Dorinne and Karen as compatriots. We were never in the same locations, but we sort of knew each other because of all the work that was going on. It was so rewarding to do it at a time when I wasn’t the only one, right? Because I do feel like that changed the nature of what I was able to do, and with my own work, I could go in a direction that was sort of different. I didn’t have to cover everything. I knew when I published Performing Asian America , it was at a time when there was going to be a new wave of stuff that wasn’t going to make it into that book. But that was fine with me because I thought, wow, there’s just so much out there that people ought to do, and trying to be comprehensive isn’t where it’s at for me right now. So, that was fun. I think that I’ve, since then, changed several times, and some of it is location-specific. Dorinne Kondo : First of all, in terms of Asian American anything, I was like the last generation at Stanford, where I was an undergraduate, who was part of the protest generation: strikes, tear gas, helicopters on campus, “Free the Branner 15,” students from our freshman dorm who were beat up and arrested. We also, at my graduation, walked out on Daniel Patrick Moynihan, our commencement speaker, because of his report on “The Negro Family.” There were teach-ins about that, sponsored by the Anthropology department and St. Clair Drake, the renowned urban anthropologist (and co-author, with Horace R. Cayton, Jr., of the classic Black Metropolis: A Study of Negro Life in a Northern City ). There’s that part. But I’m an outlier, I feel, because I was trained as an anthropologist and as a Japan specialist. So, my first foray into performance, not theatre as such, was when I was a member of the Gender Seminar at the Institute for Advanced Study in Princeton where Judith Butler wrote Gender Trouble . So, I saw that in formation—very exciting—and all the controversy that it then caused. I mean, now it seems like a classic work, but believe me, there were plenty of arguments, and I got used to conflict as potentially generative. That (Butler, Foucault, and poststructuralist theories of the subject) profoundly influenced my first book , which was based on field work in a Japanese factory, where I was a so-called part-time worker, investigating the performance of gendered work identities on the shop floor and the performativity of artisanal identities and the aesthetics of work. I was trying to take labor, which is often seen only in narrowly political economic terms—I mean, that’s obviously important—but you know, what do people think they’re doing? What are the cultural meanings of work? What about aesthetics, which were in fact very important. I feel like in my latest book ( Worldmaking: Race, Performance, and the Work of Creativity ), I’m doing the opposite. It’s like the realm of the aesthetic sublime, how can we bring it back to earth and look at it as cultural work, as making, as an industry within a very particular historical and political economic context? So, being with Butler was incredibly important. That was also the year that, similarly to Jo, I saw David Henry Hwang’s M. Butterfly on Broadway, and I had never ever in my life seen anything like that. I talk about that in About Face , but it was life-changing. I mean I used to go back to the Asian American Theater Company in San Francisco just to see plays. That too had been a revelation, just to see people who looked like me, like in the same room doing theatre, was amazing, just to feel three-dimensional again after being [in Boston]. Frankly, Boston was horrible in terms of racism and overt racism. Anyway, David’s play was extraordinary, and I felt like I had to write about it as though my life depended on it. I know it sounds melodramatic, but that’s the way it felt. So, that started my exploration of theatre as an academic topic. Then it also was a fieldwork strategy. I took the very first David Henry Hwang Playwrights Institute classes. That was amazing—so amazing, I couldn’t sleep. I never felt about anything the way I felt about that. So, I thought, well, I have to do something here, you know what I mean? When do you ever feel that in life? I can’t not do it. I feel like it chose me. I pivoted. So, I was writing the book on transnational Japanese fashion, and then the Asian American theatre piece came in, and then I spent a number of years trying to learn the playwriting craft. In terms of academic scholarship, I’m trying to integrate the creative and critical. So, that’s what’s happening in my latest book, Worldmaking . Karen Shimakawa : It’s interesting that the three of us, the three kind of senior generation, none of us started as Asian American scholars, right? Because there really wasn’t a field there when we started it. It’s interesting that we all came from these really different places. I had come from law school, going to English grad school thinking I was going to be a specialist in Flannery O’Connor. Then for some reason—I can’t remember why—I pivoted to becoming a medievalist, and then finally I thought settled on becoming a Shakespearean. So, I was always kind of moving towards theatre and performance and kind of theatricality in some way. In retrospect, I think I could say that even my interest in Flannery O’Connor was something about theatricality. I just remember, it’s kind of like Esther—although I didn’t have quite the foresight—I remember going into the library and looking in the Shakespeare section, which was just aisles and aisles of things and thinking, I don’t really think we need another Shakespeare book. I think it’s been done. So, then I kind of was in this crisis, like what is there? I was pretty far into my graduate education at that point, and I met with some of my advisors, and they’re like, what else do you know and like? And actually, I had gone to Asian American theatre since I was a kid because, like Jo, I had siblings who were older and more politically literate in this stuff. That was the church field trip that you always take, right? So, I didn’t have quite the kind of sublime experience that Dorinne had. I envy that in some ways because I’m like, well of course I’m seeing myself on the stage. That’s our stories. But it had never occurred to me because there wasn’t really an academic field there, that that was at all connected to my sort of vocational training. That just felt personal and maybe nascently political. It felt very extracurricular at the time. Then I took David Román’s class on American theatre, and we read Dorinne’s piece on M. Butterfly . That was a real turning point for me, I think, like, to imagine that there could be this kind of rigorous, academic, legible-to-other-professors kind of work on the plays that I had grown up watching. That was a real revelation. When I think about it now, and I narrate it retroactively, I think I was always moving towards this because I was always kind of interested, you know—even in, like, medieval literature—the thing that I was sort of drawn to was liveness, the way bodies on stage sort of can perform and imagine what is, what could be, sort of imaginative possibilities, utopian or dystopian, and also kind of what the body that’s talking has to do with that. I do think that that was always kind of the thing that I was chasing. So, it was just a real joy when I read Dorinne’s piece to realize, like, yeah, there’s a way to actually express that, and it’s a legit thing to actually study, and that it’s important and that it matters to people more than just, you know, me. I think that’s really where I started. Sean Metzger : I have the pleasure of coming after the other four speakers both now and also in the past. I think I’m the only one of us who came from practice into the field. I was in high school when M. Butterfly toured, and I remember there being an ad in the San Francisco Chronicle . At that time, it registered as Asian American but also as queer, as an Asian queer play. So, that combination kind of stuck with me for a long time. When I went to university, at some point I decided I was going to be in a college of music. I was doing musical theatre, and I wanted to enter into a more practical setting. I did an internship at the Denver Center Theatre Company, and it just happened they placed me on August Wilson’s Piano Lesson . So, I was doing everything backstage. And that moment—I think this was 1992—coincided with my having emancipated myself from my parents. I was out of money, and the cast actually helped me pay for my schooling until I could pay them back. So, I thought, oh, this is theatre, like this kind of intra-ethnic solidarity. This is amazing! I learned otherwise as I moved forward. I was an undergraduate, [and] I wanted to take Lesbian and Gay Studies classes at the time, but you couldn’t do that at CU Boulder unless you were taking graduate courses because the university didn’t allow it. So, I had to take graduate courses, and I found myself quickly overwhelmed with everything I had to learn. Like, I didn’t know the word “subjectivity.” Boulder had a lot of early modernists, and the first course I took was Gay and Lesbian Literature to 1800, and it was taught by Bruce Smith, who’s now at USC, and who’s a Shakespearean. He was encouraging me to work on Shakespeare, and I also remember looking down the halls and being like, oh my god I have nothing else to say. Joel Fink, who was a professor and director at CU, said, “You should write about M. Butterfly because there’s not a lot of work on it yet.” He wasn’t a scholar, so he didn’t know by that time, 1994, Dorinne’s, Karen’s , and James’s work had been out already. But there was not a lot of material, so I started that project. Then I built my thesis on gay and lesbian Asian American drama, half as an activist piece and half as what I would consider scholarly work, but I had to train myself. I brought in an adjunct to be my Asian Americanist because there was no tenure-track Asian American lit or theatre person. That was Marilyn Alquizola. Then I went to graduate school. I decided I wanted to work in Asian American and Sexuality Studies, so USC was one of the options. They gave me the most money, so I went there. They said, “Oh, we’re hiring David Román,” at that time. So, I went to work with David, and then they said, “Oh, we’re hiring Dorinne,” and I thought, oh, this is perfect. Then as time evolved, Karen came to give a job talk and then went to (UC) Davis. David Román said, “I think you should go to Davis.” So, I did, and that changed lots of things in very good ways and not so good ways, as you can imagine without saying any names. That’s really how I started in the field. Also, because I had been quite impoverished as an undergraduate student, I went to whatever grad program that would let me do the work I wanted to do, and I just figured I’d do whatever requirements; it was basically whoever paid me the most. So, that was my philosophy. I went to Comp Lit first, for that reason, and quickly learned I was to have mastery of these languages, which I still have yet to master. Switching to a Theatre and Performance Studies program sort of made me feel like, oh, I don’t have to have the kind of linguistic expertise that Comp Lit would have required. I wouldn’t have to be in grad school for another ten years. Then my career kind of went all over the place. I was in social services for a while. I came back to grad school, and I happened to get a job at Duke as an Asian American lit and culture specialist. So, once I got that job, it was really, like, okay this is what you’re doing from then on. But I have benefited from all the great writing of all the people here. I would also say, I think for Esther and me, we both had the advantage of a group of people—quite a large group of people—who just happened to be in grad school at the same time: SanSan Kwan, Dan Bacalzo, Lucy Burns, Sel Hwahng, Yutian Wong, Priya Srinivasan, Eng-Beng Lim, Cathy Irwin, Theo Gonzalves, and the two of us. That sort of made me feel like we had a community, and it also made me able to sustain my work over a long time, even though we were located all over the country. DG : Thanks so much for this. I feel like we’re collectively writing this meta history of the field right now, and I really appreciate the names that you’re offering. I also love hearing these personal stories, these origin stories for you as superheroes, but they also gesture toward the structural, toward the material conditions that made this field possible. You’re gesturing toward not only scholarship but also Asian American theatre production. So, I’d invite us to think more about the origins of the field, but I also want to turn to the next question of how have the academic field and the field of production of Asian American theatre and performance changed since the 1980s? DK : I agree with the collective storytelling, and I think that that’s really important. But in some ways, I feel like we’re facing a paradox because of course we want to narrate these stories, but in terms of Asian American Studies as insurgent knowledge, I’ve always been suspicious of origin stories and foundations. Aren’t we about challenging the notion of foundations? Maybe gathering these multiple perspectives and stories (is one way of mounting a challenge); on the other hand, people deserve their props. I realize that one of the functions of something like this is to narrate a history that’s legible in a certain way and establishes that we’re legitimate, we’re rigorous, et cetera et cetera. So, I think it’s paradoxical, and there’s a kind of fundamental ambivalence in the move. I would say, apparently, the field hasn’t changed enough, since this is the first issue dedicated to Asian American issues, right? It reminds me of the interventions at the Claremonts, you know, as part of the mobilization around The Mikado and trying to get Asian American Studies established where Black Studies and Chicano Studies already existed. I think that Asian Americans were seen as the “little people, humble, and silent,” (from Madama Butterfly ) so we had to make some noise and do some organizing. About Face —it’s an early work that does this—but you know look at Sean’s work, for example, I mean all of the work of people in this room, the move toward the transnational and diasporic, I think is like a huge shift. There’s no more Asian American Studies, really. It’s all Asian diaspora work now and rightfully so. I totally understand that. In terms of the profession, I think it’s more professionalized. There’s certainly more theatres, which is great, and more populations represented in the arts. We need more intersectional work, but that’s also growing. There’s still a ton of work to do on all these fronts. There are also more theatre critics of color: Diep Tran, Jose Solís, amongst others. JL : I will just say that Esther and I actually have this six degrees of separation. So, when I was in my first year of college, I took a creative writing course with Tom Postlewait who was a great creative writing teacher, but I didn’t really realize his field was actually theatre history. Then years later, I realized that Esther worked with him, so just shout out to Tom. The world works in really funny ways in terms of who we’re in contact with. The work has just deepened and gotten more interesting and more varied in its approach. I totally get the diasporic, the re-theorizing of what is Asian American. All these things that I think have impacted maybe Asian American Literary and Cultural Studies more generally has also impacted the Theatre Studies field. People have been really great about bringing those in, but there’s a certain kind of depth to it now too. I’m thinking about some of the historical work that Esther brought in, creating this archive, documentation. How do you not just talk about what the theatre means but how it is actually made? I do feel like, you know, books like Esther’s, Yuko Kurahashi’s book on East West Players , what that does is it provides a record for people to dig into. Sean, your book ( Chinese Looks: Fashion, Performance, Race ) was so expansive in terms of that history. In the period before, there wasn’t “Asian American,” like that wasn’t a term that anyone used. There were people of Asian descent and representations of Asia in the Americas, and those really connect to us still. So, I do feel like what’s been wonderful is the way in which Asian American Theatre, Drama, and Performance Studies are now rooted in these larger questions. There’s been solid work everywhere you turn, even as new populations are coming in and new understandings of what this Asian American identity and experience is. It’s so much a fractured category, right? It doesn’t hold up. It’s a category that deconstructs itself. So, every time you teach students Asian American Studies, you have to go back to, “This is a social construct. This is a racial formation.” This is exactly how it was made, that we are all calling ourselves Asian American. So, I think there’s no center. But that kind of frees us up quite a bit to sort of decide on what our points of unity or solidarity or coexistence will be. I think in my own work, I’ve started doing two things: I’ve started looking more into productions that are not commercial, because one of the things I was brought into was this star power of David Henry Hwang. Then I moved to the middle of the country, which has a very active theatre scene. We’ve got more theatre seats per capita than anywhere in the nation. There are so many small theatres here and people doing non-profit theatre work, and that’s not really recognized or written about, and some of it never gets recorded. So, that sort of regional focus has shifted maybe because of where I live. But I’ve also turned to what are some of the connections with older productions, and I’ve done a lot more work than I cared to on yellowface basically. Esther knows as well, right? You get stuck down the rabbit hole when you start looking at yellowface production as opposed to Asian American production. But one thing I regret, as much as I’ve benefited from doing that historical work, I think I do agree with Dorinne, that it’s really telling that I got a lot of recognition for doing a book on The Mikado ( The Japan of Pure Invention ), the kind of recognition that I never got for doing work on Asian American theatre. So, people were like, oh this is so interesting that you’re doing this work, and you want to say, hey, actually there are a lot of playwrights I’ve written about that have nothing to do with yellowface. But once you start writing about yellowface, it sort of perpetuates. Why is that interesting as opposed to all these playwrights who don’t do television, who do a much better job of representing Asia? SM : One of my early scene coaches was Lane Nishikawa, so I think that experience made me understand—oh, it was at the time when the Asian American Theater Company had fractured and was kind of on its last legs, so we had several actors from San Francisco who were Asian American women with me in this training thing—some of the history that Esther talks about in her book but through a different kind of lens: a gossip episteme, if you will. So, that made me realize whatever I thought this was, doing an Asian American theatre thing, is highly contested, because even in the theatre company itself, there were all kinds of narratives of what was happening at the theatre company that were sort of interrupting its progress, let’s say. So, I think all the companies, they all have those kinds of stories embedded within them, and now some of them are more archived. But there are other stories in those companies that have not been told and some that Esther chose not to discuss, like Kumu Kahua, or you know some of the other companies around the country. I think one of the things that’s happened since that time is the founding of the Consortium of Asian American Theatres and Artists (CAATA) in 2003, and I think that has provided a national platform for people to have discussions about how artists themselves think about the formation of the field and their place within it. I think we all have realized that their version of that story is not our (a scholarly) version of that story necessarily. But I think it’s productive, and one of the things that we can see is when they add in special sessions, it’s often about the tensions they see in the field that they haven’t identified before. I remember they had a Pacific Islander special session, and they had a MENA, Middle Eastern North Africa, special session; I think that suggests something about where the practitioners feel like the field is going in terms of Asian American theatre. At the same time, at UCLA, I have two colleagues, Lap Chi Chu and Myung Hee Cho, who are both Asian American artists in lighting design and scenic design, respectively, and they did a lot of work on Asian American productions in addition to regional theatre and other kinds of things, and I think they would also narrate this story differently. So, I think I agree that there’s a lot of competing narratives, and many of those narratives have yet to come to the fore or be acknowledged. I do think that the field as a whole is pivoting around certain issues right now, like Critical Refugee Studies, which is making big advances in Asian American Studies. So, I suspect that Theatre will then follow suit. I think Jo’s work in particular has done a lot to bring attention to Southeast Asian refugee communities, and that’s of course partly location and probably the kind of theatre that you were talking about. It’s not professionalized in the same way. As for some of my own work, I do want to say that the historical part that I did was sort of at Karen’s impetus because I was interested in racial fetishism, and she’s like, you have to fetishize something . You can’t just satisfy some amorphous idea. So, that led me to tracing objects and how they get racialized, costumes in particular, because of the work I did with Dorinne. So, I thought, those are, you know, physical items we could look at and think through more. It’s really the combination of Karen’s and Dorinne’s work that helped me think through how to do an early historiographic approach because I’m not a good archivist, as many of you know. I find it very difficult to sit in a room and get the gloves and everything. I find that very trying. So, I do think that the field has moved a long way. There are some trends that are happening. I mean, when I did (the Theatre Journal special issue) “ Minor Asias ,” it was partly because the editor said, “Well if you do an Asian American issue, who’s going to contribute?” So, I contacted many people, like do you have anything right now? Because there’s not enough of us in the field. I figured if I can’t get materials from people I know, which is the bulk of the field, then we’re going to have trouble putting together an issue. Actually “Minor Asias” was a pivot on my part to try to broaden the rubric partly to get more submissions. So, it’s great, Donatella, that you’ve gotten so many (for “Asian American Dramaturgies”). That’s really good to hear. EKL : That was great. What can I add to this already rich conversation? Because my training is in Theatre—I think I might be the only one who actually did graduate training in theatre history—I could just probably comment that when my book came out in 2006, it was my tenure book. It was based on my dissertation. It’s very incomplete. I was very nervous about getting it out. Like Sean said, a lot of it is gossip based, and a lot of the gossip I couldn’t add because they made me turn off the tape recorder and told me not to add things. There are so many things I could have added. When I go to the CAATA conference, people come up and say, oh you got that wrong. They still gossip about it. I really thought that by now there would be more theatre history books on Asian American theatre. So, in many ways, I feel like there hasn’t been that much progress. I expected the book to be challenged and revised, that there would be a more enriched conversation. Maybe I could just ask back to Donatella: it’s your generation’s job to add to the work that’s done before, so is that going to happen? Who is going to do that work? Personally, in my own research, like Jo, I’ve been really interested in going back historically. My first book starts in the 1960s, and I now want to figure out what happened before. That led me to my current book on yellowface ( Made-Up Asians: Yellowface During the Exclusion Era ), and my next one, I think, could be even further back. I find that going back to this kind of origin story—if yellowface was an origin story for, say, Asian American actors as they say, “We did acting because we wanted to protest”—is to revise yellowface history. It’s one origin story of Asian American theatre. But I’m looking for other origin stories in Asian American theatre. Historiographically, I feel like I’m always in conversation with Tom Postlewait, my advisor that Jo mentioned, because I did take American theatre history with him, but my book is really a revision of the history, like looking at American theatre history through the lens of Asian American Studies. So, I think I’m going to continue to do that. But looking at the whole field, I thought we would have more younger scholars, junior scholars who would be doing both theoretical and historical archival work. DG : Esther, I agree with your assessment, and I also hear what Dorinne was saying about the critique of foundations. So, first I’m thinking that I might come up with a better word for titling this, but I specifically tried to have foundations with an s , just like how I really appreciate how Esther’s first book is a history and not the history of Asian American theatre. I think in general there aren’t that many critical histories of theatre institutions. My first book is an attempt to do this but of a traditionally white institution. In their definition of Americanness at Arena Stage, that is often not inclusive of Asian Americans, but that is reflective of how Asian Americanness is in that boundary of inclusion and exclusion. So, for my own work, I felt thrust into Asian American Theatre Studies mostly because of seeing all these gaps and also just dealing with anti-Asian microaggressions in graduate school and seeing so much yellowface on professional New York City stages. So, that’s what drove me to then start researching why and how contemporary yellowface persists in musicals in the twenty-first century. I’m attentive to Jo’s point though, because I invited her for a workshop of my research, and she pointed out that I need to make sure I’m not re-centering whiteness and white nonsense, and that Asian American theatre shouldn’t just be an epilogue to that book. So, Jo, you’ve really reshaped the structure of my book so that there’s always this Asian American counter-example to yellowface in every chapter, and there will be a full chapter at the end about the musical I’m obsessed with right now, which is Soft Power . So, I really appreciate that you said that. KS : I agree with what’s been said. I just have a few things to add. One is that I think the origins of Asian American theatre are interestingly complicated. In terms of the academic field of Asian American Studies or Asian American Theatre Studies, I would almost single-handedly credit that to Jo. I think you did those reading groups early on, you had a really prescient kind of sense that there’s an academic field, like making a there there for an academic field, and people who could go on the market as that. I mean, we were all just kind of doing our own thing and doing it for ourselves, like, how do I get me my job? But you actually were thinking of a field, and I think it would not exist if it wasn’t for you. JL : I have to say this: in response to a taunt by a colleague of mine who works in Asian American Literature who made a crack at me, and I said something about Asian American Theatre and Performance Studies, and she said, “What? All three of you?” I mean, she made this crack early on, so maybe it was that there were only like three. It was pretty horrible. I would argue there were other people like James Moy , and then there were historians who were doing work, like John Tchen’s New York before Chinatown . There are all these really great connections, and people come from, as Dorinne pointed out, different interdisciplines. It’s not just Theatre Studies. KS : Angela Pao , for sure. JL : Absolutely, Angela, and other people who were just not being seen. It was partly coincidence but partly because, at the time, we were working to establish a program in Asian American Studies at the University of Minnesota, which we finally did in 2004. So, that was part of my larger thing, that we were trying to become institutionalized. I became much more aware of the need for that as a form of support, acknowledgement, and recognition, that if we actually had a field, then people wouldn’t have to keep reinventing what they do for other people or feel as though there wasn’t a place for them. I honestly think some of it’s that remark Donatella said, oh you came and said this about my work. It’s probably on the order of what Sean said about Karen saying that I need to do that. You’re making an observation and then you realize, oh my goodness, someone’s taking me seriously. They’re actually thinking that I have the answer to this. I think I’ve always been a crowd sourcing person, right? That if we do this together, it is so much more fun. Who wants to be the only person working on this? I really think that that for me was a huge motivator, to get people together, because I really felt like I was limited in terms of my perspective. I mean, if you’re going to work on theatre, which is so, so many characters, you need everybody there. I do feel like, too—the point that was made earlier about listening to people who are practitioners—I do remember a note, one thing that really changed the way I write and one of the reasons why I stopped writing work that was more, in some ways, theoretically informed for academic audiences is actually because Roger Tang did a little thing on my first book, and he said something like, oh this is not bedtime reading. I was taken aback. Like, well, this wasn’t written for you. Then I thought, well, why is that? Why is it that I felt that I had to write for a specific group of theatre scholars or literary scholars and prove myself? I think that kind of freed me up to do things like the anthology we put together ( Asian American Plays for a New Generation ), plays with Mu Performing Arts at the time. It was just really great to be at a stage, since I did have tenure, where I could let go of working so hard to establish ourselves as leaders in our field, at the university, because the academy, as anyone probably knows, will just suck you dry. I mean, it’ll just sort of take the will to write anything out of you if you have to conform to that model. I don’t know how it is at all your institutions, but it is hard. KS : Jo, you’re being very modest. You say, like, who wants to be the only one in the field? I think that really runs counter to a lot of the logic of higher education, that the whole game should be to have your turf and be the only one and defend it against other people. So, I think the character of the field of Asian American Theatre as an academic field really bears your imprint. But you know, when we started, the idea that there would be job postings for an Asian American theatre specialist—I mean, that just wasn’t a thing, right? And it is now. So, I think that’s a real contribution that you’ve made to not just the profession but to, like, thinking. In terms of the field, the artistic output, how Asian American theatre and performance has changed parallels generations of scholars. Immigration has changed, and how we think about the circulation of people has changed. I think so many of us who were starting out were really formed by a particular kind of generation of Asian American, you know Sansei, or fourth or fifth generation Chinese Americans, who were doing that kind of thing that was self-marked as Asian American theatre. That’s very specific to a post-’65 kind of immigration thing, right? The character of Asian America has changed so much from the ’80s on and has changed the kinds of work that’s being done in the theatre and the kind of sensibilities. It’s sort of the idea that there’s both out-migration and in-migration, like that kind of global character of things and the circulatory kind of sensibility. I think maybe it’s my training in law, but I peg all of that to migration. I think just the kinds of people who are on the stage or at the table have been really dramatically changed. So, that’s exciting to see. DG : I have a major set of questions to help us wrap up and look ahead: Whose research and artistry have excited you most, and where do you see or hope to see the field going? SM : I still think that there have been different trends in theatre practice that have not really gotten their due in terms of Asian American attention. One of the most exciting theatre makers for me is Ping Chong, actually. I know Karen has written on (Ping Chong and Company in National Abjection: The Asian American Body Onstage ) and others have written on that company as well . Ping Chong and Company is in a way tracking how communities are shifting over time. I find that work very generative, as opposed to the sort of the more commercial Broadway stuff, which has to appeal to such a wide audience (and it’s a very white audience). I think even though we’ve seen shifts on Broadway, I don’t expect massive change to happen at that commercial level or scale. KS : Sean, I’m so glad you mentioned Ping. When I was trying to come up with a list, I was thinking of people like Ping Chong and his company but also people like Ralph Peña and Ma-Yi, and Mia Katigbak. Actually, I would put Jorge Ortoll in this pile, too, even though he’s not Asian American. But I really think that those are people who are doing this very unglamorous work of actually getting other people’s voices onto the stage and making the road, even while they’re doing their own artistic work, but they’re doing a ton of work that is unglamorous, that is about making this sustainable for many more people. And that especially right now just feels like it’s both urgent and kind of a long game, which I really appreciate. So, there’s all kinds of artists that I’m into, but those guys doing the backstage work are the ones I really appreciate right now. JL : I’ll have to add my voice to all the people worshipping Ping Chong. He came and did a thing with our students two years ago, a collaboration with Talvin Wilks, one of the Collidescope projects, and I have to say, it was one of the best things I’ve seen by students, ever. I mean, it was just so moving and so wonderful. I have to have a soft spot for some of the artists who come out of our Twin Cities community. There’s a number of younger artists who have been working here for some time, and we’re putting together a collection for students. I mentioned May Lee-Yang’s play to Sean, and he was writing about that , and I really just loved her work. We also recently did a production at Penumbra Theatre of Prince Gomolvilas’s The Brothers Paranormal , which I really, really enjoyed. It was a wonderful way to think about how different communities, Asian American and Black, might intersect on the stage. And Lloyd Suh! EKL : Those are great names. I’m really excited by Qui Nguyen’s plays, just so fresh and fun to teach. Also, Julia Cho. I saw Aubergine at Playwrights Horizons, and I thought it was one of the most moving Asian American plays I’ve seen. It was well cast, well designed, and to see that Off-Broadway—such a polished professional production—it was one of those plays I cried at from the beginning to the end. It was just really moving. DK : I guess I’m wondering about people we’ve not heard of, so I’m sure that there are all kinds of people. Jo, you referenced some folks in Minneapolis and so on. So, that’s who I’d be interested in hearing about and hearing from. I hope that we’ll do more of that in the future. In terms of workers, it’s not just Asian Americans, so I’m just wondering—having worked with Anna Deavere Smith, for example—like other stuff that inspires me would be Antoinette Nwandu and Jackie Siblies Drury. In terms of the scholarship—no one’s talked about what we want to see—but I myself am really interested in integrating the creative and the critical in different ways, so I started this research cluster called Creativity, Theory, Politics in American Studies trying to look at the work of scholar-artists. I’m interested in people who are trying to do that. Sean, thank you for sponsoring a book forum on Worldmaking (in the February 2022 issue of Cultural Dynamics currently available through https://journals.sagepub.com/toc/CDY/current ) that had two of the people whose work I’m interested in: Josh Chambers-Letson ( After the Party: A Manifesto for Queer of Color Life ), whom I’m sure everybody knows, with genre-bending, the intersectionality, queer of color critique, and how moving it is because I weep every time I read it actually. And then Aimee Cox ( Shapeshifters: Black Girls and the Choreography of Citizenship ), who’s a former dancer for Ailey who integrates movement and scholarship in her work and in her lectures. For our cluster, she gave a “lecture” that incorporated academic analysis, a showing of short films, and a movement workshop. So, I want more integration of the creative and the critical. DG : Thanks for that. Is there anyone else that you want to lift up? KS : Aya Ogaya’s work is amazing. And Dorinne as a playwright-scholar! SM : I would just want to say that, once when Esther gave a talk, and someone asked her, “What do you want to see? What are you going to do next?” she said, “I’ll just do a history that goes earlier.” But I take that seriously. It seems to me in terms of the pre-1945 stuff, there’s a ton of material there that we have not addressed in great detail that I think will open up a field and will change the way that we narrativize Asian American Studies. I think in the actual work produced, there are a lot of turns that happen that we just don’t account for. There’s a lot of transnational things happening with early Asian migrants, and in that vein, people like Andrew Leong at Berkeley, who’s an English scholar working on poetry but is also thinking through Sadakichi Hartmann, have been very inspiring for my current line of work in that regard. But I think there’s a lot of people doing early nineteenth century stuff that has a lot of potential to reshape some of the field. DK : In that sense, it’s too bad Jim [Moy] couldn’t be here. One thing I hope for the future is just to combat, you know, white American theatre on so many levels. I’ve just run into so much aggressive, soul-crushing white fragility this year in all kinds of ways, including being trolled. (The trolling was in response to an interview I did with the LA Times , following the murders of the women in Atlanta.) JL : That’s terrible, Dorinne. What happened? DK : I’ve been silenced! I was in a playwriting group. “No, you can’t talk about representation because I’m not racist. I had two black friends when I was a child.” Seriously it’s parodic, it’s so bad. Do you know how white you sound? So, it’s been that kind of year. JL : If you write that person into a play, I’ll read it. DK : I have! I’ve got to get it out somehow. DG : This has been such a fun conversation. I’m excited to be able to share it with other people, and I’m really excited that the next ATHE (Association for Theatre in Higher Education) conference is themed around Dorinne’s Worldmaking , which I hope will be another point of intervention. Thanks so much for your generosity with your time today and sharing all of these reflections. References Footnotes About The Author(s) Donatella Galella is an Associate Professor at the University of California, Riverside. She researches how systemic racism shapes contemporary American theatre from the ways white institutions capitalize on blackness to the persistence of yellowface in musicals. Her essays have been published in journals including Theatre Journal , Theatre Survey , and the Journal of Dramatic Theory and Criticism and books including Reframing the Musical: Race, Culture, and Identity and Casting a Movement: The Welcome Table Initiative . Her book America in the Round: Capital, Race, and Nation at Washington DC’s Arena Stage (University of Iowa Press) was an Honorable Mention for the 2020 Barnard Hewitt Award from the American Society for Theatre Research and a Finalist for the 2020 Outstanding Book Award from the Association for Theatre in Higher Education. Dorinne Kondo is an anthropologist, Performance Studies scholar, playwright, dramaturg, podcaster, Professor of American Studies and Anthropology, and former Director of Asian American Studies at the University of Southern California. Her award-winning books include Crafting Selves: Power, Gender, and Discourses of Identity in a Japanese Workplace and About Face: Performing Race in Fashion and Theater. Her most recent book Worldmaking: Race, Performance and the Work of Creativity bends genre, integrating her play Seamless . She was a dramaturg for three world premieres of theatre artist Anna Deavere Smith’s plays and co-founded the research cluster “Creativity, Theory, Politics,” spotlighting the work of scholar-artists. Esther Kim Lee is Professor in the Department of Theater Studies and the International Comparative Studies and the Director of Asian American & Diaspora Studies at Duke University. She is the author of A History of Asian American Theatre (Cambridge University Press, 2006), which received the 2007 Award for Outstanding Book given by Association for Theatre in Higher Education, The Theatre of David Henry Hwang (Bloomsbury Methuen Drama, 2015), and Made-Up Asians: Yellowface During the Exclusion Era (University of Michigan Press, 2022). She is the editor of Seven Contemporary Plays from the Korean Diaspora in the Americas (Duke University Press, 2012) and a four-volume collection, Modern and Contemporary World Drama: Critical and Primary Sources (Bloomsbury, 2022), which challenges the prevailing Eurocentric reading of modern drama. Josephine Lee is currently the Associate Dean of Arts and Humanities and Professor of English and Asian American Studies in the College of Liberal Arts, University of Minnesota, Twin Cities. She is the editor in chief of The Oxford Encyclopedia of Asian American Literature and Culture, and her other books include Oriental, Black, and White: The Formation of Racial Habits in American Theater (University of North Carolina Press), The Japan of Pure Invention: Gilbert and Sullivan’s The Mikado (University of Minnesota Press), and Performing Asian America: Race and Ethnicity on the Contemporary Stage (Temple University Press). She has also co-edited Asian American Plays for a New Generation (with R.A. Shiomi and Don Eitel), Re/collecting Early Asian America: Essays in Cultural History (with Imogene Lim and Yuko Matsukawa) and Asian American Literature in Transition, 1850-1930 (with Julia H. Lee) . Sean Metzger is a Professor in the UCLA School of Theater, Film, and Television and the former president of Performance Studies international. He has published Chinese Looks: Fashion, Performance Race (2014) and The Chinese Atlantic: Seascapes and the Theatricality of Globalization (2020) both with Indiana University Press. The current editor of Theatre Journal , he has also coedited several collections of essays and a volume of plays. Karen Shimakawa is Associate Professor of Performance Studies and Co-Associate Dean of Faculty and Academic Affairs in NYU Tisch School of the Arts, and Affiliated Faculty in NYU School of Law. Her research and teaching focus on critical race theory and performance. She is the author of National Abjection: The Asian American Body Onstage (2002). Journal of American Drama & Theatre JADT publishes thoughtful and innovative work by leading scholars on theatre, drama, and performance in the Americas – past and present. Provocative articles provide valuable insight and information on the heritage of American theatre, as well as its continuing contribution to world literature and the performing arts. Founded in 1989 and previously edited by Professors Vera Mowry Roberts, Jane Bowers, and David Savran, this widely acclaimed peer reviewed journal is now edited by Dr. Benjamin Gillespie and Dr. Bess Rowen. Journal of American Drama and Theatre is a publication of the Martin E. Segal Theatre Center. Visit Journal Homepage Table of Contents - Current Issue Embodied Reckonings: “Comfort Women,” Performance and Transpacific Redress The Interdisciplinary Theatre of Ping Chong: Exploring Curiosity and Otherness Love Dances: Loss and Mourning in Intercultural Collaboration Introduction to Asian American Dramaturgies Behind the Scenes of Asian American Theatre and Performance Studies On Young Jean Lee in Young Jean Lee's We're Gonna Die by Christine Mok Representation from Cambodia to America: Musical Dramaturgies in Lauren Yee’s Cambodian Rock Band The Dramaturgical Sensibility of Lauren Yee’s The Great Leap and Cambodian Rock Band Holding up a Lens to the Consortium of Asian American Theaters and Artists: A Photo Essay Theatre in Hawaiʻi: An “Illumination of the Fault Lines” of Asian American Theatre Randall Duk Kim: A Sojourn in the Embodiment of Words Reappropriation, Reparative Creativity, and Feeling Yellow in Generic Ensemble Company’s The Mikado: Reclaimed Dance Planets Dramaturgy of Deprivation (없다): An Invitation to Re-Imagine Ways We Depict Asian American and Adopted Narratives of Trauma Clubhouse: Stories of Empowered Uncanny Anomalies Off-Yellow Time vs Off-White Space: Activist Asian American Dramaturgy in Higher Education Asian American Dramaturgies in the Classroom: A Reflection Previous Next Attribution: This entry is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 4.0 International license.

grace shinhae jun Back to Top Untitled Article References Copy of References Authors Keep Reading < Back Journal of American Drama & Theatre Volume Issue 34 2 Visit Journal Homepage Love Dances: Loss and Mourning in Intercultural Collaboration grace shinhae jun By Published on May 20, 2022 Download Article as PDF Love Dances: Loss and Mourning in Intercultural Collaboration. SanSan Kwan. New York: Oxford University Press, 2021; Pp. 136. SanSan Kwan’s Love Dances: Loss and Mourning in Intercultural Collaboration contributes a timely analysis of Asian American performance to the fields of Theatre, Dance, and Performance Studies, fields in which the voices of Asian American scholars are needed. Love Dances studies in great depth a series of duet collaborations that center intercultural connection, grief, loss, and impossibility. Kwan’s personal experiences of love and loss, her own duet performances, and her reflections on her late husband serve as entry points to her observant and philosophical examinations of intercultural collaborations. Kwan situates her work among scholarship that questions the ethics and politics of intercultural performances. How do intercultural collaborations, she asks, heal the harmful effects of Orientalism and colonialism; lead to vulnerability and love in the presence of radical differences; and generate powerful connections in the face of losses in translations, refusals, and grief? While dance scholarship has identified the ways Asian aesthetics have been historically appropriated in Euro-American concert dance, Kwan also outlines the history of interculturalism in theatre that emerged from appropriation and exploitation. Kwan turns to theories of “new interculturalism” that better “tease out the complexities across multiculturalism, postcolonialism, ethnic and racial difference, intraculturalism, and interculturalism” (9). She looks to the duets not for what they represent but for what happens in the process of intercultural exchange and centering the emphasis on relationality. She looks at the dance collaborations as a means to discuss the themes of love, loss, vulnerability, refusal, third spaces, and pedagogy, finding that they provide something embodied and intimate that other expressive mediums cannot. The book features Kwan’s detailed descriptions and thoughtful reflections on a progressive series of intriguing intercultural duet performances. In Chapter 1, “Talking,” Kwan analyzes the performance Pichet Klunchun and Myself between classical Thai choreographer Pichet Klunchun and French choreographer Jérôme Bel. She argues that the performance, despite being an intercultural collaboration, reinforces and reproduces Orientalist logics. She is wary of its mostly verbal exchange, with occasional dance demonstrations, as it retains power dynamics and reveals where intercultural collaboration potentially fails. Reading Klunchun as the East and therefore the keeper of tradition and Bel as the West and therefore representative of individual innovation, Kwan shows the inequities that can arise in an intercultural exchange. However, Kwan notes that this failure also provides a pedagogical opportunity to delve into histories of racialized oppression and colonialism. In the second chapter, “Mourning,” Kwan analyzes two different duet collaborations: Flash and Simulacrum. In Flash, African American hip hop choreographer Rennie Harris and Japanese American butoh-based interdisciplinary dancer Michael Sakamoto both practice movement forms stemming from histories of racial and social violence and trauma, yet their intercultural textual and movement collaboration provides strategies for healing trauma and creating cross-cultural empathy. Harris resists intimacy initially in the creative process, but Sakamoto’s hospitality and generosity and Harris’s reciprocity transformed the rehearsal space into a space of truth devoted to surviving anti-Black racism and post-incarceration Japanese American life. In Simulacrum, Kwan explores the potential for empathy. In her analysis, she delineates the ways that care and vulnerability emerge in the process of cross-cultural collaboration between Argentinian contemporary and kabuki dancer Daniel Proietto and Japanese Flamenco dancer Kojima Shoji. Both the Flash and Simulacrum duets are predicated on themes of mourning, rendering loss as absence that can also be generative. “Commiseration,” for Kwan, “is a practice of mutual empathy” (62). Through empathy, the artists show that we can have a meaningful connection to another’s cultural-corporeal history, even if we cannot fully inhabit it. In the final chapter “Loving,” Kwan turns to Vietnamese French choreographer Emmanuelle Huynh who duets with Japanese butoh artist Kasai Akira in Spiel and with Japanese butoh-informed dancer Otake Eiko in Talking Duet. Restating her interest in Leo Cabranes-Grant’s concept of intercultural encounter as an “engine of emergence” and not solely a point of contact and meeting, Kwan looks to these duets as forms of pedagogy. These textual and movement performances create third spaces to encounter alterity and otherness and reveal the incommensurabilities and impossibilities of intercultural encounters. Spiel and Talking Duet expand on the prior chapters’ text and movement analysis by centering improvisational performance. Improvisation, she argues, demands interlocutors to be receptive, responsive, “submissive but also sovereign” in ways that deepen the intercultural collaboration (104). Improvisation becomes the method of vulnerability, openness, and willingness to change. Kwan concludes this highly original and compelling study by questioning what unites collaborators even when their intercultural encounters fall short. For Kwan, the collaborative process across and between cultures bears potentiality, the practice of empathy, and the act of loving. She grounds the significance of these intercultural encounters as models of how to love, and co-create, even in the face of misunderstandings and loss. Love is a guiding principle and a necessary condition for ethical intercultural exchange, and for Kwan love does not exist without loss. Ultimately love offers opportunities to begin again and again. Love Dances contributes significant insight to Dance, Theatre, and Performance Studies from the poignant perspective of a performer and a scholar. Accessible and nuanced, Love Dances is a necessary text for practitioners looking to collaborate ethically across cultural, racial, social, and gendered spaces. References Footnotes About The Author(s) Journal of American Drama & Theatre JADT publishes thoughtful and innovative work by leading scholars on theatre, drama, and performance in the Americas – past and present. Provocative articles provide valuable insight and information on the heritage of American theatre, as well as its continuing contribution to world literature and the performing arts. Founded in 1989 and previously edited by Professors Vera Mowry Roberts, Jane Bowers, and David Savran, this widely acclaimed peer reviewed journal is now edited by Dr. Benjamin Gillespie and Dr. Bess Rowen. Journal of American Drama and Theatre is a publication of the Martin E. Segal Theatre Center. Visit Journal Homepage Table of Contents - Current Issue Embodied Reckonings: “Comfort Women,” Performance and Transpacific Redress The Interdisciplinary Theatre of Ping Chong: Exploring Curiosity and Otherness Love Dances: Loss and Mourning in Intercultural Collaboration Introduction to Asian American Dramaturgies Behind the Scenes of Asian American Theatre and Performance Studies On Young Jean Lee in Young Jean Lee's We're Gonna Die by Christine Mok Representation from Cambodia to America: Musical Dramaturgies in Lauren Yee’s Cambodian Rock Band The Dramaturgical Sensibility of Lauren Yee’s The Great Leap and Cambodian Rock Band Holding up a Lens to the Consortium of Asian American Theaters and Artists: A Photo Essay Theatre in Hawaiʻi: An “Illumination of the Fault Lines” of Asian American Theatre Randall Duk Kim: A Sojourn in the Embodiment of Words Reappropriation, Reparative Creativity, and Feeling Yellow in Generic Ensemble Company’s The Mikado: Reclaimed Dance Planets Dramaturgy of Deprivation (없다): An Invitation to Re-Imagine Ways We Depict Asian American and Adopted Narratives of Trauma Clubhouse: Stories of Empowered Uncanny Anomalies Off-Yellow Time vs Off-White Space: Activist Asian American Dramaturgy in Higher Education Asian American Dramaturgies in the Classroom: A Reflection Previous Next Attribution: This entry is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 4.0 International license.

Stacy Wolf Back to Top Untitled Article References Copy of References Authors Keep Reading < Back Journal of American Drama & Theatre Volume Issue 28 1 Visit Journal Homepage Musical Theatre Studies Stacy Wolf By Published on March 22, 2016 Download Article as PDF Musical Theatre Studies, whose presence as a viable academic field is not much more than a decade old, is spreading out in all directions of chronology, geography, approach, and methods. Scholars trained in theatre studies, dance studies, and musicology and ethnomusicology are becoming more comfortable with each other’s intellectual tendencies and conventions, sharing our analytical languages and epistemological assumptions. A quick, ad-hoc survey of some colleagues turned up an inspiring and formidable range of recent and current projects. Some books expand the field in valuable ways. These include, for example, Elizabeth Wollman’s Hard Times: The Adult Musical in 1970s New York City , which takes seriously sexually explicit shows and their conversation with the city, with feminism, with gay culture, and with mainstream musicals. Carol Oja’s Bernstein Meets Broadway: Collaborative Art in a Time of War looks at the work of Leonard Bernstein from a new angle, focusing on his collaborations with artists of color, including actors, conductors, and dancers. Liza Gennaro’s Making Broadway Dance , a much-needed study of Broadway choreographers, is also in process. I’m working on Beyond Broadway: Four Seasons of Amateur Musical Theatre in the U.S. , which argues that nonprofessional artists at high schools, summer camps, and community theatres sustain and are the lifeblood of the form. Other scholars re-locate what’s been called the most American of entertainment genres in a global context. Both David Savran and Laura MacDonald, for example, are working on international projects: David’s explores the branding of Broadway and its significance across the globe, and Laura studies Korea and China-based productions of Broadway musicals. Some current projects put musical theatre in conversation with other fields, such as urban geography and architecture—Dominic Symonds’ performance cartography of Broadway’s music—and Jessica Sternfeld’s work in disability studies. In Raymond Knapp’s recently completed book on Haydn, German Idealism, and American popular music, he discusses the important role of musical theatre and its sensibilities to the development of American popular music. In an effort to bolster the undergraduate curriculum, which for generations consisted of knowledgeable professors—typically longtime fans of musicals and collectors of trivia who listed facts and dates and told stories (many of them fascinating and crucial to understanding how musicals are made but with no critical framework)—several textbooks have been published recently. James Leve’s American Musical Theater and Larry Stempel’s Showtime: A History of the Broadway Musical Theater offer historical context and critical tools to help students learn the repertoire and develop analytical skills. Several other anthologies geared towards undergraduates and graduate students are in process: The Disney Musical: Stage, Screen and Beyond , edited by George Rodosthenous, and Childhood and the Child in Musical Theatre , edited by James Leve and Donelle Ruwe. Elizabeth Wollman is editing The Methuen Critical Companion to the American Stage Musical , which shifts away from the typical production-based study to a culture- and industry-based overview of the American commercial theater. She and Jessica Sternfeld are editing the large Routledge Handbook , which examines musicals of the last fifty years from many angles and will be the first collection to focus on recent repertoire. In addition, Dominic Symonds notes that musical theatre studies’ methods and critical ideas, such as “musicality, collaboration and interdisciplinarity” are increasingly being taken up in other disciplines. This moment in scholarship and pedagogy is, I think, marked by two other issues, which ironically (or not?) seem to pull in opposite directions of access and popularity. The first is the ubiquitous challenge of accessing visual archives to be able to teach musical theatre. Some students are lucky enough to see a New York or regional production of a show, and others can take advantage of local community theatres or high schools, which are both fantastic and underused resources for teaching college students about musicals. But some instructors are limited to what they can find on YouTube, whether clips produced by Playbill or BroadwayWorld, or, more commonly, illegally taped and posted to the web. It’s impossible to teach students the complexity of the genre of musical theatre without a dynamic visual and aural archive. If we want students to understand not only the text-based elements of musicals (script and score) but also casting, staging, and design (to name only a few), we need access to productions for them to see, even in video’s imperfect form. Sondheim’s professionally taped and commercially distributed musicals, including John Doyle’s production of Company , Hal Prince’s Sweeney Todd , and James Lapine’s Sunday in the Park with George , for example, are invaluable teaching tools. Legal restrictions on taping hamper our ability to teach a sophisticated and nuanced analysis of performance. Second, the fans of Broadway musicals have gone mainstream, at once resonant of the 1940s and 50s when musical theatre was a part of popular culture, and with a new, intensely social media orientation. In 1996, Rent broke open a new place for young, politically-progressive musical theatre fans. Now, Hamilton has connected with a diverse audience unlike anything we’ve seen in decades. The fanatical (and I mean that as the highest compliment) passion of “Rentheads” in the mid-to-late 1990s has been bettered by the Hamilton frenzy, which I witnessed firsthand when I attended and gave a talk at the first BroadwayCon in January. Many of the fans I met at that gathering of mostly women, mostly under 30 grew up on Disney musicals and the film versions of Sweeney Todd , Chicago , Les Miz , Phantom , and Into the Woods . Though they (and all of my students) can sing the entire cast album of Hamilton , they also know and love Broadway musicals more generally, and they express their fandom of Fun Home , Fiddler on the Roof , and The King and I on Instagram, Twitter, and Snapchat. Social media enables the consolidation of widespread fan communities, whose engagement with a musical might be by way of the cast album, artists’ tweets, YouTube clips, or the musical itself. But these new modes of communication and connection don’t alter the fact that the object of affection and desire is the live performance event of a Broadway musical. References Footnotes About The Author(s) Stacy Wolf is Professor of Theater and Director of the Princeton Arts Fellows at the Lewis Center for the Arts at Princeton University. She is the author of Changed for Good: A Feminist History of the Broadway Musical and A Problem Like Maria: Gender and Sexuality in the American Musical . She is currently working on a book about amateur musical theatre in the US. Journal of American Drama & Theatre JADT publishes thoughtful and innovative work by leading scholars on theatre, drama, and performance in the Americas – past and present. Provocative articles provide valuable insight and information on the heritage of American theatre, as well as its continuing contribution to world literature and the performing arts. Founded in 1989 and previously edited by Professors Vera Mowry Roberts, Jane Bowers, and David Savran, this widely acclaimed peer reviewed journal is now edited by Dr. Benjamin Gillespie and Dr. Bess Rowen. Journal of American Drama and Theatre is a publication of the Martin E. Segal Theatre Center. Visit Journal Homepage Table of Contents - Current Issue Editorial Comment New Directions in Dramatic and Theatrical Theory: The Emerging Discipline of Performance Philosophy Changes, Constants, Constraints: African American Theatre History Scholarship Reflections: Fifty Years of Chicano/Latino Theatre Strangers Onstage: Asia, America, Theatre, and Performance Transgressive Engagements: The Here and Now of Queer Theatre Scholarship Thinking about Temporality and Theatre Musical Theatre Studies “Re-righting” Finland’s Winter War: Robert E. Sherwood’s There Shall Be No Night[s] Star Struck!: The Phenomenological Affect of Celebrity on Broadway Performing Anti-slavery American Tragedian Murder Most Queer The Captive Stage Previous Next Attribution: This entry is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 4.0 International license.

By Valeria Orani, Frank Hentschker | A collection of contemporary Italian plays, presented in English. < Back More Information & Order Details To order this publication, visit the TCG Bookstore or Amazon.com. You can also get in touch with us at mestc@gc.cuny.edu New Plays from Italy Volume 4 Valeria Orani, Frank Hentschker Download PDF Italian and American Playwrights Project is curated by Valeria Orani with Martin E. Segal’s Director, Frank Hentschker. The project brought together some of the brightest, most innovative, and most engaging Italian contemporary playwrights, developing their pieces through translation into English. Italian Playwrights Project restarted an artistic dialogue between Italy and the US, adding continuity to an on-off relationship between the two countries for the last decades. This book has been translated thanks to a grant from the Italian Ministry of Foreign Affairs and International Cooperation. MIMOSA CAMPIRONI - FAMILY GAME (TRANSLATED BY PATRICIA GABORIK) After an earthquake, a man finds his loved ones’ bodies under his home’s rubble. Shocked, he starts to travel without a destination until he finds himself getting drunk at a highway gas station. Someone identifies him as a man who had disappeared several years before. The identity swap causes a series of unforeseeable events which, on the one hand, redeem the man’s spirits through a new love and, on the other, uncover the trauma of a terrible family tragedy. MARIANO DAMMACCO - A GOOD EDUCATION (TRANSLATED BY ADRIANA ROSSETTO) A Good Education tells the story of a woman, an aunt, who, because of the unexpected death of her sister, “inherits” her nephew, who she has to take care of for the first time in her solitary life. The reader finds himself following the adventures of this woman who has to face the hardship of someone having to create a bond, a relationship with a young boy, the last heir of her family. The aunt has to host him in her life, home, and mind. She has to educate him, plan his future, and participate in a young man's upbringing. But will she be suitable for the job? GABRIELE DI LUCA - METROPOLITAN MIRACLES (TRANSLATED BY THOMAS H. SIMPSON) While outside, the sewer, filled with garbage and toxic trash, is flooding the city, causing people to panic and forcing them to remain in their homes; in an old body shop turned kitchen specializing in takeout for people with allergies, are eight characters: Plinio, former star chef now broke; his wife Clara, former dishwasher and social climber; Igor, Clara’s son and Plinio’s step-son, who is affected by a form of emotional disorder; Patty, Plinio’s mother, a declared feminist; Cesare, an aspiring suicide attacker; Mosquito, an aspiring ex-con actor who is forced to do community service; Mohamed, a university professor from Lebanon turned underpaid, overworked rider; and Hope, a mysterious and bizarre dishwasher from Ethiopia who hides a big secret and morally controversial objectives. TATJANA MOTTA - WHITE NIGHT (TRANSLATED BY THOMAS H. SIMPSON ) A woman and a man visit a city for a brief vacation. Their plans are disrupted when they meet the guest, the owner of an apartment they rented online, a stranger who leads them from the city center to its outskirts. EDITED BY FRANK HENTSCHKERWITH VALERIA ORANI Explore Other Books To play, press and hold the enter key. To stop, release the enter key. See All Books

European Stages serves as an inclusive English-language journal, providing a detailed perspective on the unfolding narrative of contemporary European theatre since 1969. Back to Top Article References Authors Keep Reading < Back European Stages 19, Fall, 2024 Volume Visit Journal Homepage Avignon 78, 2024. Imagining Possible Worlds and Celebrating Multiple Languages and Cultures Published: November 25, 2024 Download Article as PDF By Philippa Wehle Image Credits: Article The Seventy-Eighth Avignon Festival, June 29th to July 21st, 2024, provided audiences with a glorious opportunity to revel in the diversity and blending of artistic languages from Spanish-speaking countries along with a variety of responses - political, social and verbal - to this terrifying moment we all live in. Not just Spanish – this year’s focus language - but many other languages were heard throughout the festival, languages that were translated and projected on walls and screens in the festival venues. “Words” are everywhere as Festival director, Tiago Rodrigues, reminds us. “Words,” along with sounds, gestures, and images to help us live in this world. From Mohamed El Katib’s fascinating La Vie secrète des vieux (The Secret Life of Old People) to Angélica Liddel’s disturbing Dämon, El funeral de Bergman (Dämon, Bergman ’ s funeral), with its chorus of infirm people in wheelchairs, images of aging and references to the end of life seemed present in a number of this year’s official offerings, at least so it seemed to me. Perhaps I was especially tuned into them given my own stage of life, and the mobility issues with which I deal on a daily basis. Dämon . Photo © Christophe Raynaud de Lage For example, my attempt to attend Katib’s piece was unexpectedly grueling. The Chartreuse in Villeneuve lez Avignon, across the Rhone River from Avignon, is not an easy venue to get to but I wanted to see Mohamed’s latest work. (I had translated and written about his fascinating piece Stadium , about the soccer fans of Lens, France and I was determined to catch his latest documentary theatre work no matter what.) On arrival, I discovered that there were many stairs to climb in order to enter the theatre. This was not going to be possible for me. Finally, someone showed up and claimed he would get me to the theatre. “No problem,” he seemed to say and he took me and my rollator on a lengthy trip to discover some way to enter the theatre. After about 45 minutes of circling the many cloisters and empty halls of the Chartreuse, leading nowhere, another man appeared who said there was no choice but to climb some stairs to get into the theatre! He had to practically pick me up to manage those stairs, but I made it and I was delighted to attend Mohamed’s new play. I tell this story because of what it took an elderly person to finally see this show about old people who welcome end of life’s challenges with humor and gusto. It was inspiring and it was worth it. To create La Vie secrète , Mohamed interviewed a hundred elderly residents in a French nursing home and asked them to openly share their thoughts about and experiences of love, specifically physical, erotic love at their stage of life. He chose seven of these residents to perform on stage. His show takes place in a community room in a nursing home with its parquet floors and parquet-covered blocks of wood. Mohamed is on stage throughout the show, adding comments, helping when needed, and orchestrating as is his want in other documentary theatre pieces. The seven performers - “Senior Citizens” from ages 75 to 102, along with their lovely care giver, Yasmine - 35-years-old - were all perfect. As the play begins, an announcement is made that captures the irreverent sense of humor of the piece: “Given their age, these people might die on the stage. Stay calm. It is better to die on stage than at the Nursing Home.” La Vie secrète des vieux. Photo © Christophe Raynaud de Lage Jacqueline, in her wheelchair - 91 years old and a former Radio/TV anchor - is the first to engage our interest with her feisty delivery and her honesty about the reality of a life without love, physical or otherwise. “I feel like making love every day,” she confesses, covering her mouth as if embarrassed to admit this. She misses the thrill of kissing someone you love on the lips, and the kind of relationship where you truly exist for someone else. The others follow suit. Micheline, Martine, Chille, Jean-Pierre, Annie, et al, openly share their feelings. One confides that she has the same desires as when she was 20. Another charmingly admits that she has had a love/physical relationship with another woman, after having been married to a man, but she insists she is not a lesbian, but “On the other hand …” Along with their stories are sweet moments of sharing and closeness. At one point the stage becomes a ballroom, its walls lit with colored lights and the traditional disco ball hanging from the ceiling, inviting the residents to join in the dance. We watch couples enjoying dancing together and holding each other closely. Photos are taken, as well, not selfies but a group photo of smiling residents. Unfortunately, Georges who was supposed to be part of this group, died during rehearsals at age 101. His urn is touchingly present and tributes are paid to him by the remaining members of La Vie. Spanish artist Angélica Lidell whose controversial, unconventional and scandalous work has been shown to acclaim numerous times at the Avignon Festival, was invited this year to create a new piece in the venerable Cour d’honneur of the papal palace. Dämon, El funeral de Bergman ( Dämon, Bergman’s Funeral ), an imaginary dialogue between herself and Ingmar Bergman and a scathing commentary on the indignities of aging, opened this year’s festival. For Dämon, the entire stage floor is blood-red and the only set pieces are a urinal, a bidet, and a toilet leaning up against the south wall of the Honor Court. Wearing a gauzy, see-through gown, Angélica makes her appearance stage right and strides across the stage to deliver an extraordinary rant against French theater critics seated in the audience who have dared to write negative reviews of her work. An incredible verbal assault, her “humiliations” as she calls them are stinging, to say the least. Calling them out by name and quoting from their reviews, she is alone on stage but for a false pope figure who seems a bit lost as he wanders about. She is joined eventually by a bevy of other performers among them a chorus of twelve old people, singers in wheelchairs or standing behind them in a line. “Today my mirror is the elderly,” Angélica proclaims. “And the image they reflect back to me is terrifying.” The pace picks us as several handsome young men dressed in evening black as if to attend a fancy party, grab the empty wheelchairs and run a frantic race across the stage, pushing the empty chairs as if they have to pick up more elderly before it is too late. They are joined by Angélica, who finds herself on a stretcher, against her will, it seems, but unable to stop them from pushing her across the stage. Equally absorbing but in an entirely different vein, Hécube, pas Hécube ( Hecuba, not Hecuba ) in French with English surtitles, written and directed by Avignon Festival director Tiago Rodrigues, and faultlessly performed by a splendid cast of actors from the Comédie-Française, offered audiences an extraordinary evening at the Boulbon Quarry [Later, this production was performed at a very different but equally spectacular setting, the ancient theatre of Epidauros in Greece. A report on that production appears elsewhere in this issue, as well as a report on a production at the Pilsen Festival]. Hecuba, Not Hecuba. Photo © Christophe Raynaud de Lage For this modern adaptation of Euripides’ tragedy, the set is mostly bare. Forefront, a long table with chairs, another to the rear and a monumental statue of a Dog (or perhaps a She-Wolf) on the left. As the play begins, actors enter carrying their scripts and sit around the table to rehearse for an upcoming performance of Hecuba. They only have two weeks before it opens, but they are in a good mood. They laugh at their mistakes and tease each other. Suddenly the mood changes. The actress playing Hecuba gets up from her chair, puts on her coat and starts to leave the rehearsal. No longer Hecuba, Queen of Troy, whose son was killed by Polymestor, she becomes Nádia, a contemporary mother whose twelve-year old son Otis has run away from the state-run facility for autistic children where he and others have been sorely mistreated. She has only recently learned that these children have been bruised, undernourished and uncared for and the day of the rehearsal is the same day she is due to appear in court to demand justice for her son. As she leaves, the other actors pick up their scripts and move to the table in the rear to continue rehearsing. Soon, however, they begin to join Nádia, playing different roles in her contemporary drama. Her lawyer, Wadia, for example, who helps her prepare to confront the judge, is one of the actresses we met in the rehearsal. Another becomes the Judge and so on, as the time frame between past and present becomes increasingly blurred. There are many thrilling moments in Hecuba, pas Hecuba , but perhaps the most extraordinary features Nádia (Hecuba), seated on the ground on a flowing dark piece of silk, smoke pouring out of the statue, stares into space as she holds the giant paw of the Dog which has broken off from the statue. In this moment, her pain is so unbearable that she is ready to howl like a dog. She is both a contemporary mother mourning the loss of her son and Hecuba grieving the tragic loss of her child. It is a searing image of tragedy, contemporary and ancient. Seven Lessons. Photo © Christophe Raynaud de Lage Sea of silence, by Tamara Cubas from Uruguay introduced audiences to seven women from “the four corners of the world,” seven different regions where the languages spoken are exotic to our ears - Edo, Arabic, Mapuche, Malay, Didxazá, Borum, and many more. They have come together to present a haunting ritual dedicated to the migration of women throughout history. Wearing gossamer, beige-colored tunics, they perform their stories on a stage covered with crystals of salt. As the performance begins, they are sisters huddled together on the ground. The piercing screams and cries they emit as they slowly rise up and stand before us are almost unbearable. Through movement, song, ritual and words they create a series of tableaux. Strange voices and dark shadows accompany them as they march slowly forward, advancing and retreating through the salt. One sings as she moves backwards, wailing at times, in despair, perhaps, that she has not been able to leave her country or her family, for surprisingly these women are not exiles, but potential migrants. At times they stop their relentless march and seated on the ground they share a moment of respite before renewing their extraordinary journey. Wayqeycuna . Photo © Christophe Raynaud de Lage Wayqeycuna , by Tiziano Cruz, from northern Argentina, master of “scenic narratives,” invites us into his special world of performative protest and makes us feel welcome. “Wayqeycuna,” a word meaning “My brothers” in Tiziano’s native language Quechua, is the final part of a trilogy he has dedicated to his family and to all those who have known the injustices of poverty and political machinations. First his sister, who died of neglect in a hospital in Argentina at the age of 18, the second to his mother who also died, and now the final part to his father, Don Manuel Cruz whom he hasn’t seen in twenty-seven years and to his indigenous community in a remote village in the province of Jujuy. For me this was one of the most captivating pieces in the festival. In one of the festival’s smaller venues, on a small stage and for just a little over an hour, Tiziano holds our attention from the moment he rises up out of the dark wearing a pristine white outfit - white top and white trousers - and ringing a bell, to the final moments of rejoicing with him on the stage. His journey is fascinating and beautifully narrated with the help of superb video images projected against the back curtain. Finally, it is time to return home, he tells us, time to explore the notion of reconciliation. We follow Tiziano on an airplane, a train, a bus, walking and in a car as he reaches his village. The place “that holds the murmurs of my childhood.” Home is his indigenous community where he recalls the pain and injustices he has shared with his people. We walk with him and his father up the steep hills. We share the natural beauty of the area and feel the freshness of the air, as they stop to take in the view. A herd of sheep running down the steep mountain in the misty clouds, catches their attention. Father and son, wearing richly appointed serapes in royal blue and deep purple, are caught for a moment in a stunning video. They soon return to a colorful village parade, where the community is raising a glass, and enjoying each other’s company. As if to invite us to the party, Tiziano covers a large table with plates of freshly baked breads in the shapes of animals he and audience members had produced in a 3-hour workshop prior to the show. As Wayqueycuna drew to a close, Tiziano made sure that we all received one of the breads as a farewell gift from the community we had briefly become. The Days Outside. Photo © David Seldes Los dias afuera ( The Days Outside ), a documentary musical by Lola Arias from Argentina, introduces us to an amazing group of cisgender women and transgender people who have been freed from an Argentinian prison and now gather to tell us about their past behind bars and their current struggles to find ways to survive in the outside world. Composed of original songs and dance numbers, the play opens on a multi-purpose set built of scaffolding suggestive perhaps of prison walls that are now open. The actors’ energy is admirable, and their spirit gives us hope, but their freedom seems precarious. How are they surviving? What does the future hold for them? Nacho drives a taxi. His car in full view stage left speaks of possible prosperity. Noelia has become a sex worker, and she advocates for the rights of transpeople while Paula has found a job at an illegal textile factory and another in the group is a care giver. They open with a strong number. Wearing evening gowns, they sing of the terrible conditions they lived with in prison. Other Cumbia songs and catchy dance moves, especially voguing, complete their presentations, enhanced of course by strobe lighting, explosions of color and blasts of bright green, reds and blues, smoke, and a series of tableaux and video images projected on a screen above the set. At times, the stage is overflowing with multiple activities. Every space is used to create scenes of their current lives. Along with a swimming pool on the right, where three of them in bathing suits sip pina coladas; there is a concert performed by an improvised band on a table in the middle of the set, they reconstruct the challenges of life after prison and claim a future. Elizabeth Costello, Sept leçons et cinq contes moraux ( Elizabeth Costello, Seven Lectures and Five Moral Tales), based on the work of J. M. Coetzee, was created and directed by esteemed Polish director Krzysztof Warlikowski, who is a well-known figure in the history of the festival. His fascinating play was the final piece in this year’s Honor Court offerings. Elizabeth Costello is a fictional literary character created by Nobel Prize winner and novelist J.M. Coetzee who appears in a number of his writings. She is clearly his alter ego. Polish theater director Krzysztof Warlikowski finds her equally fascinating and has made her the central protagonist of his play. During her fictional life, she gave a number of lectures, attended conferences and was a featured guest at many universities and other important venues. To tell her life’s story and follow her travels, Warikowski has created a set composed of a back wall extending the entire length of the stage which serves as the screen against which magnificent video images are projected throughout the show. Far right is a large bathroom and directly across, stage left, a revolving glass-enclosed structure rather like an exhibit case in a museum. “Rugs” of various colors, patterns and sizes delineate the playing areas where thirteen superb actors embody the key moments in Elizabeth’s long journey. The four-hour play is composed of a series of lectures, conferences and other moments of Costello’s academic life, along with private moments and musings as she moves towards retirement and death. As the play begins, an actor playing Coetzee is answering questions about his character Elizabeth Costello, who is played by different performers as we follow her through her life. One moment, she is lecturing on the impossibility of realism in the modern era and at another discussing a Kafka short story about an ape who learns to behave like a human. Her lectures are static at times, and not always easy to follow but one can’t help but appreciate that the ape she has evoked in her talk about Kafka becomes an important figure in the play. Wearing an ape mask and dressed as a human, he follows Elizabeth around as if to prove her theory. One feels as though one gets to know and appreciate this fictitious woman as one might a colleague in our own lives. Yes, she can be officious at times and her theories are sometimes questionable but her humanity is real. She too has had her share of pain and disappointment. Her relationship with her son John is strong as is her friendship with her friend Paul who has lost a leg in an accident. Thanks to the remarkable video scenes, we follow her closely as if we were there ourselves, especially when she is on a cruise ship in the Antarctic where she has been invited to give talks to the passengers. Her ship is enclosed by icebergs that are collapsing around her and one can only surmise that the experience of lecturing to this company is perhaps a step down from earlier times. In the final scenes of Elizabeth’s life, we find her sitting in the glass cage with her family. She is nearing the end of her life, her grandchildren (adults wearing masks) are seated outside, and her companion, the ape, is there as well. Qui som? Photo © Christophe Raynaud de Lage Who could resist Qui som? (Who are we?), created and performed by artists from the worlds of circus, dance, clowning, music and even ceramics? Who are they? They are the fabulous Franco-Catalan Baro d’evel company and it is their first time at the festival. From start to finish, we are amazed and delighted by their work. Even before the “actual” show starts, we are treated to some whimsical stage business that hints at great things to come. The set is delineated by rows of ceramic clay vases. It seems clear that they are not just décor. They are critical to the show. Even though they are tended by a man who is making sure that they remain pristine, one of them breaks, and this is clearly an accident that must be dealt with. The man brings out clay and the wherewithal to make a new vase on the spot and of course we have to wait for it to dry before we can meet the rest of this wondrous company of twelve, along with their children and a dog. Their stage curtain, if one can call it that, is made of multiple strips of colored plastic that move like shimmering ribbons, forming a movable wall. It moves menacingly forward and back like a huge wave threatening at times to engulf the players, and even the audience. Qui som? is truly “a chaos of perpetual movement,” to quote one of the company members, a non-stop two and one half hours of near-misses, pratfalls and “messy” scenarios that could not be more delightful. One particularly memorable scene takes place on a stage increasingly covered with piles and piles of crushed empty plastic bottles through which the players have to make their way, slipping and sliding and falling again on their way. Mothers . Photo © Marta Gornika Clearly, Avignon 87 was noted for its variety of opportunities to discover new work and new ways of celebrating. Mothers, A Song for Wartime , by Marta Goroneckas from Poland, a Choral work, sung and performed by a choir of Ukrainian, Belarussian and Polish women in the venerable Cour d’honneur, for example, introduced audiences to a community of activist mothers who have known destruction and death, and who show us their strength and commitment. Forever, Immersion dans Café Müller de Pina Bausch , created by the festival’s new “artiste accomplice” Boris Charmatz (recently appointed director of the Tanztheater Wuppertal), offered multiple opportunities for festival goers to attend new choreographic readings of Pina’s mythical show from 1 pm to 8 pm. To come and go as they pleased. With such diverse and compelling pieces as I have described, and there were many more, it seems clear that Avignon 78, was a great success for all. References References About the author(s) Philippa Wehle is a professor emerita of French, drama studies, and literature at Purchase College. She writes widely on contemporary theatre and performance and has translated numerous contemporary French language plays by Marguerite Duras, Nathalie Sarraute, Philippe Minyana, José Pliya, and others. Her current activities include translating contemporary New York theatre productions into French for supertitles. Professor Wehle is a Chevalier in the French Order of Arts and Letters. European Stages European Stages, born from the merger of Western European Stages and Slavic and East European Performance in 2013, is a premier English-language resource offering a comprehensive view of contemporary theatre across the European continent. With roots dating back to 1969, the journal has chronicled the dynamic evolution of Western and Eastern European theatrical spheres. It features in-depth analyses, interviews with leading artists, and detailed reports on major European theatre festivals, capturing the essence of a transformative era marked by influential directors, actors, and innovative changes in theatre design and technology. European Stages is a publication of the Martin E. Segal Theatre Center. Visit Journal Homepage Table of Contents Between Dark Aesthetics and Repetition: Reflections on the Theatre of the Bulgarian Director Veselka Kuncheva and Her Two Newest Productions Hecuba Provokes Catharsis and Compassion in the Ancient Theatre of Epidaurus (W)here comes the sun? Avignon 78, 2024. Imagining Possible Worlds and Celebrating Multiple Languages and Cultures Report from Basel International Theatre Festival in Pilsen 2024 or The Human Beings and Their Place in Society SPIRITUAL, VISCERAL, VISUAL … SPIRITUAL, VISCERAL, VISUAL …SHAKESPEARE AS YOU LIKE IT. IN CRAIOVA, ROMANIA, FOR 30 YEARS NOW Fine art in confined spaces 2024 Report from London and Berlin Berlin’s “Ten Remarkable Productions” Take the Stage in the 61st Berliner Theatertreffen. A Problematic Classic: Lorca’s Bernarda Alba, at Home and Abroad Previous Next Attribution: This entry is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 4.0 International license.

Watch Monk in Pieces by Billy Shebar at the Segal Film Festival on Theatre and Performance 2026. Meredith Monk – composer, performer, and interdisciplinary artist – is one of the great artistic pioneers of our time, yet her profound cultural influence is largely unrecognized. With Monk’s music at its center, and featuring interviews with Björk and David Byrne, Monk in Pieces is a mosaic that mirrors the structure of Monk’s own work, and illuminates her wildly original vocabulary of sound and imagery. As a female artist in the male-dominated downtown arts scene of the 1960s and ‘70s, Monk had to fight for recognition and resources. Early reviews in The New York Times were vicious and sexist: “A disgrace to the name of dancing,” wrote one critic, and “so earnestly strange in a talented little-girl way,” wrote another. Yet as her celebrated contemporary, Philip Glass, says, “she, among all of us, was – and still is – the uniquely gifted one.” In the film’s final chapters, Monk faces mortality. We see her warily entrust her masterpiece, ATLAS, to director Yuval Sharon and singer Joanna Lynn-Jacobs for a new production at the Los Angeles Philharmonic. For 60 years, Monk has directed and performed in all of her music theater works; now she must learn to let go. What will happen to such singular work after she is gone? The Martin E. Segal Theater Center presents Monk in Pieces Billy Shebar At the Segal Theatre Film and Performance Festival 2026 Screening Information This film will be screened on May 28, at 6:10 PM, at The Segal Theatre Center RSVP Please note there is limited seating available for in-person screenings at The Segal Centre, which are offered on a first-come first-serve basis. Country USA, Germany, France Language English Running Time 95 minutes Year of Release 2025 About The Film Meredith Monk – composer, performer, and interdisciplinary artist – is one of the great artistic pioneers of our time, yet her profound cultural influence is largely unrecognized. With Monk’s music at its center, and featuring interviews with Björk and David Byrne, Monk in Pieces is a mosaic that mirrors the structure of Monk’s own work, and illuminates her wildly original vocabulary of sound and imagery. As a female artist in the male-dominated downtown arts scene of the 1960s and ‘70s, Monk had to fight for recognition and resources. Early reviews in The New York Times were vicious and sexist: “A disgrace to the name of dancing,” wrote one critic, and “so earnestly strange in a talented little-girl way,” wrote another. Yet as her celebrated contemporary, Philip Glass, says, “she, among all of us, was – and still is – the uniquely gifted one.” In the film’s final chapters, Monk faces mortality. We see her warily entrust her masterpiece, ATLAS, to director Yuval Sharon and singer Joanna Lynn-Jacobs for a new production at the Los Angeles Philharmonic. For 60 years, Monk has directed and performed in all of her music theater works; now she must learn to let go. What will happen to such singular work after she is gone? A Zeitgeist Films Release in Association with Kino Lorber About The Artist(s) Billy Shebar is an Emmy-nominated filmmaker known for High Noon on the Waterfront (2022), with John Turturro and Edward Norton, which premiered at the Telluride Film Festival and was broadcast on TCM and HBO; and Dark Matter (2007), starring Meryl Streep, which won the Alfred P. Sloan Prize at Sundance. He collaborated with animator Bill Plympton on The New York Times viral web series Trump Bites (2018-2020) and with animator Yoni Goodman on the three-part crime series Doctor’s Orders (2021). Get in touch with the artist(s) info@110thstreet.com and follow them on social media https://zeitgeistfilms.com/film/monk-in-pieces,https://monkinpieces.com/ Find out all that’s happening at Segal Center Film Festival on Theatre and Performance (FTP) 2026 by following us on Facebook , Twitter , Instagram and YouTube See the full festival schedule here

Kellen Hoxworth Back to Top Untitled Article References Copy of References Authors Keep Reading < Back Journal of American Drama & Theatre Volume Issue 38 2 Visit Journal Homepage An Expansive “Us”: W. E. B. Du Bois’s “Pan-Negro” Theatrical Vision Kellen Hoxworth By Published on May 26, 2026 Download Article as PDF In theatre and performance studies, W. E. B. Du Bois’s name has become synonymous with his manifesto for “a real Negro theatre” that is “1. About us ... 2. By us ... 3. For us ... 4. Near us .” 1 Interpreted within the context of the essay’s title, “Krigwa Players Little Negro Theatre: The Story of a Little Theatre Movement,” Du Bois’s vision for Black theatre has often been interpreted to be local, topical, and “little” in the form of community theatre. 2 For instance, David Krasner interprets an extensive array of Black American drama, theatre, pageantry, and performance through the lenses provided by Du Bois’s landmark 1903 The Souls of Black Folk. Within this framework, he interprets even Du Bois’s Afro-diasporic pageant The Star of Ethiopia as an example of an “emerging Black Nationalism” among Black Americans. 3 For Krasner, the theorization of “a peculiar sensation, this double consciousness” experienced by “Black folk”—“this always looking at one’s self through the eyes of others, of measuring one’s soul by the tape of a world that looks on in amused contempt and pity”—frames Du Bois’s political and aesthetic engagements with Black theatre firmly within the “two-ness” of Black American experience: “an American, a Negro; two souls, two thoughts, two unreconciled strivings; two warring ideals in one dark body.” 4 Similar framings of Du Bois’s contributions to Black theatre and performance as focusing primarily on the “peculiar experience” of Black American identity and subjectivity and its role in the formation of the Little Negro Theatre movement across particular, local Black American communities. 5 Yet, recent scholarship on Du Bois’s pageant The Star of Ethiopia emphasizes Du Bois’s Black internationalist political vision in his artistic contributions to the Black theatrical tradition. 6 There are therefore two warring ideals of Du Bois in contemporary scholarship on Black theatre and performance: Du Bois, the Black nationalist, and Du Bois, the pan-Africanist. These two interpretations of Du Bois, however, may be reconciled through closer attention to the continuities between his writings on Black American experience and pan-Africanist history and politics. Indeed, Du Bois’s theatrical projects and his lasting influence on Black theatre makers outlines a significantly more transnational imagining of the “us” at the heart of Black theatre—an expansive “us” that situates the Black American theatre firmly within a wider Black diasporic project and politics. Through his pageant The Star of Ethiopia and his intellectual mentorship of pan-Africanist playwrights Alice Childress and Lorraine Hansberry, Du Bois manifested an avowedly internationalist, “pan-Negro” theatrical vision that both anticipated and elaborated upon his artistic and political investments in the Little Negro Theatre movement. Du Bois’s investments in theatre and performance drew primarily from his view that the arts should be used for “propaganda”—that is, public pedagogy dedicated to “education and social uplift.” 7 His most direct involvement with performance arose through his interest in the American pageant movement and its mobilization of mass participation in support of public enactments of history. 8 Du Bois produced his signature historical pageant, The Star of Ethiopia , in four cities across the United States in a series of iterations that involved significant revisions and reimaginings of its characters and its symbolism. The earliest iteration dates to 1911, though there is no clear surviving evidence of this earliest draft. 9 The first publicly performed version was staged in New York City in 1913 as part of the Emancipation Exposition commemorating the fiftieth anniversary of Abraham Lincoln’s Emancipation Proclamation under the title, The People of the Peoples and Their Gifts to Men . 10 Then, in Washington, D.C., in 1915, Du Bois produced a version under the pageant’s final title, The Star of Ethiopia , in which he transformed the figure of the “Veiled Woman” into the role of “Ethiopia.” 11 Following the 1915 production, Du Bois continued revising the pageant, culminating in additional productions in Philadelphia in 1916 and in Los Angeles in 1925. 12 Though Du Bois continually rewrote his pageant, a consistent plot arc served as its narrative spine: The Star of Ethiopia dramatizes the history of Black peoples beginning in prehistorical Africa, through the rise of Pharaonic Egypt, the arrival of Islam to the African continent, the emergence of the slave trade and the consequent enslavement of Africans, the resistance of the enslaved throughout the Americas through revolts and rebellions, and the eventual emancipation of Black Americans during the Civil War. Beginning with the 1915 production, Du Bois added a set of concluding episodes that stage the post-emancipation discrimination of the Jim Crow era and Black resilience in the face of enduring oppression. 13 As the global sweep of his pageants demonstrate, Du Bois’s vision was not simply to dramatize the history of Black people in the United States but rather, as Du Bois himself wrote in his Autobiography , “The pageant was an attempt to put into dramatic form ... a history of the Negro race.” 14 Here, Du Bois crafted The Star of Ethiopia as a dramatic parallel to his contemporaneously published scholarly text The Negro (1915), which he intended to be “a complete history of the Negro peoples.” 15 Du Bois’s conception of the relationship between Black Americans and “the Negro people” writ large had long been defined by his internationalist and pan-Africanist politics. In his 1897 essay “The Conservation of Races,” he identified “the eight million people of Negro blood in the United States of America” as “the advance guard of the Negro people,” who were connected to “Negro people” throughout the world by “pan-Negroism.” 16 Thus, as Soyica Colbert notes, Du Bois crafted the dramaturgy of The Star of Ethiopia to “present[] an international landscape instead of recounting a local history.” 17 As Krasner further observes, “In The Star of Ethiopia , Du Bois sought a cultural representation of the black diaspora, a collective consciousness among black people centered upon a common history and ancestry.” 18 Prehistoric Africans, ancient Egyptians, Muslims, Christians, animists, African enslavers and enslaved Africans, in Africa and across the Americas — all, for Du Bois, shared a common “pan-Negro” history. Moreover, Du Bois viewed “pan-Negroism” as integral to his vision of “the development of Negro genius, of Negro literature and art, [and] of Negro spirit” which only would be made possible by “Negroes bound and welded together, Negroes inspired by one vast ideal, [who] can work out in its fullness the great message we have for humanity.” 19 Therefore, by charting a world-historical arc that spans from prehistoric Africa to the contemporary United States, Du Bois fashioned “an expansive historical narrative” that promulgated an expansive conception of the Black “us” at the center of his “real Negro theatre.” 20 It is no stretch to connect Du Bois’s pageant to his later theorization of a “Little Negro Theatre.” Indeed, in his autobiography, Du Bois placed The Star of Ethiopia directly alongside his discussion of the Krigwa Players: the pageant ‘The Star of Ethiopia’ ... was an attempt to put into dramatic form for the benefit of large masses of people, a history of the Negro race. It was first attempted in the New York celebration of Emancipation in 1913; it was repeated with magnificent and breath-taking success in Washington with 1,200 participants; it was given again in Philadelphia in 1916; and in Los Angeles in 1924. Finally I attempted a little theatre movement which went far enough to secure for our little group second prize in an international competition in New York. 21 As this passage demonstrates, Du Bois saw his pageant and the Little Negro Theatre movement as part of the same project of “trying to develop Negro art and literature,” and he placed them along the same continuum of theatrical practice. 22 This reflection echoed Du Bois’s earlier 1916 writing about The Star of Ethiopia in which he asserted that “pageantry among colored people is not only possible, but in many ways of unsurpassed beauty and can be made a means of uplift and education and the beginning of a folk drama.” 23 In other words, for Du Bois, the roots of a Little Negro Theatre and its “folk drama” lay in his experiments in pageantry “for the benefit of large masses of people.” As remarkably ambitious theatrical experiments, Du Bois’s several stagings of The Star of Ethiopia anticipated his later vision for a “real Negro theatre” that was “ About ... By .... For ... and Near ” Black people. First and foremost, Du Bois wrote his pageants for Black people as correctives to the omission of Black and African history from the emergent US pageant movement. 24 He also wrote his pageants for Black people so that they might become more involved in the theatrical life of their communities. As Du Bois reflected following the 1916 pageant in Philadelphia, “It seemed to me that it might be possible with such a demonstration to get people interested in the development of Negro drama to teach on the one hand the colored people themselves the meaning of their history and their rich emotional life through a new theatre.” 25 Moreover, by enlisting everyday Black people as performers, Du Bois’s pageants were exercises in drama by Black people that, in keeping with his vision for a Little Negro Theatre, “creat[ed] a community through the process of staging.” 26 His pageants also were performed near Black people , as he staged iterations across the country to bring his dramatization of Black history to different Black communities. His vision of bringing Black pageantry to Black people is perhaps most evident in the 1915 staging in Washington, D.C., at the American League Baseball Park down the road from Howard University, where it drew a predominantly Black audience. 27 Taken together with his dramatization of Black history—itself a theatrical work about Black people in an expansive sense—Du Bois’s The Star of Ethiopia anticipated and fulfilled the “four fundamental principles” that he would later outline for “a real Negro theatre.” 28 Importantly, Du Bois’s foundational contributions to a “Pan-Negro” theatrical vision did not end with The Star of Ethiopia nor with his manifesto for a “Little Negro Theatre.” His role as a friend, teacher, and mentor to two of the most significant Black playwrights of the twentieth century—Alice Childress and Lorraine Hansberry—ensured that his pan-Africanist dramaturgy and politics endured well after he ceased working in the theatre. Indeed, recent scholarship on Childress and Hansberry has noted Du Bois’s significant role in serving as a pedagogue and model for both playwrights insofar as he both instructed and inspired Childress and Hansberry and their “radical visions.” 29 However, scholarship on Du Bois’s theatrical work has not yet considered the implications of his mentorship as part of his broader contributions to Black theatre and performance. The earliest known acquaintance between Du Bois, Childress, and Hansberry almost certainly occurred in the early 1950s at 53 W. 125 th Street in Harlem, where the Council on African Affairs (CAA), led by Du Bois and Paul Robeson, shared office space with Robeson’s newspaper Freedom , for which Childress and Hansberry were both regular contributing writers. Du Bois used the CAA to organize Black Americans in support of pan-Africanist politics, while he continued publishing pan-Africanist scholarship such as The World and Africa (1946). 30 The influence of Du Bois’s pan-Africanism on Hansberry’s and Childress’s dramaturgy was remarkably direct. The program for Childress’s 1952 pan-Africanist dramatic revue Gold Through the Trees —which Mary Helen Washington identifies as “virtually a textbook of 1950s Harlem leftist politics” and their Black internationalist horizons—explicitly cited Du Bois’s The World and Africa . 31 Around the same time, Childress and Hansberry coauthored the script for “A Cultural Festival in Celebration of Negro History Month” for a celebration of the first anniversary of Freedom . The production starred Childress as the emcee alongside performances by Paul Robeson, Sidney Poitier, Beah Richards (Beulah Richardson), and Harry Belafonte. It opened with a “Nigerian Processional” replete with “African song” and characters identifying themselves as belonging to various African ethnic groups who recounted their journey through the crucible of slavery and their ongoing commitment to pan-Africanist liberation. 32 In many ways, Childress’s Gold Through the Trees and the “Cultural Festival” that she coauthored with Hansberry were continuations of the work initiated by Du Bois in The Star of Ethiopia . They were dramatizations of a “pan-Negro” political and theatrical vision that galvanized the development of Black art to engage and educate local Black communities. Moreover, Du Bois’s mentorship of Childress and Hansberry also took place in actual classrooms. Both Childress and Hansberry enrolled in Du Bois’s course on African history at the Jefferson School of Social Science in 1953. Childress wrote a final paper on the Gold Coast, while Hansberry’s final paper was titled “The Belgian Congo: A Preliminary Report on Its Land, Its History, and Its Peoples.” 33 Through this course, Du Bois created a small community of committed pan-Africanist students, a community that Du Bois further fostered by inviting students from the class to dinner at his home. 34 The relationships formed through Du Bois’s mentorship were lasting. Du Bois sought Childress’s perspective about a novel he was developing in 1955, and Childress cherished a cigarette holder Du Bois bequeathed to her. 35 Both Childress and Hansberry also maintained active relationships with Du Bois and his wife, Shirley Graham Du Bois. In April 1953, Childress escorted the Du Boises to a cultural reception in honor of Herbert Aptheker, and three years later, Graham Du Bois advocated for Childress’s Trouble in Mind to be produced by a Black theatre company in Los Angeles. 36 As for Hansberry, Graham Du Bois recalled that she was Du Bois’s “favorite pupil” and that he was “exceedingly fond and proud of her.” 37 For her part, Hansberry was a longtime avid reader of Du Bois’s writing (particularly his 1939 Black Folk Then and Now ), and through his tutelage she deepened her investments in pan-Africanist thought and politics. 38 In 1960, following the incredible Broadway success of Hansberry’s A Raisin in the Sun , Graham Du Bois sent Hansberry a series of letters in which she expressed “how proud” she was of Hansberry’s theatrical achievements and praised her “dignity and outspoken appearances on television.” 39 Attesting to the Du Boises’ great esteem for her, in February 1964, Hansberry was selected to read Shirley Graham Du Bois’s words at a memorial in honor of W. E. B. Du Bois, which Hansberry prefaced with her own reflections on her departed mentor: It is my privilege this evening to read to you the message to this meeting from Mrs. Shirley Graham Dubois [sic]. But I should first like to make a few remarks of my own. I do not remember when I first heard the name Dubois [sic]. For some Negroes it comes into consciousness so early, so persistently that it is like the spirituals or the blues or discussions of oppression; he was a fact of our culture. People spoke of him as they did the church or the nation. He was an institution in our lives, a bulwark of our culture. I believe that his personality and thought have colored generations of Negro intellectuals, far greater, I think than some of those intellectuals know. And, without a doubt, his ideas have influenced a multitude who do not even know his name. 40 Hansberry was one vector by which Du Bois’s influence extended well beyond his own work as a scholar, political organizer, and theatre maker. For her, “to honor Du Bois [...meant] sustaining his Pan-Africanist and socialist vision”—both within and beyond the theatre. 41 As such, Hansberry interwove Du Boisian politics of Black internationalism in A Raisin in the Sun through the figure of Joseph Asagai. 42 Additionally, Hansberry drew from Du Bois’s lessons in African history in crafting her posthumously staged play on African anticolonial movements, Les Blancs , which included direct references to the research paper she submitted to Du Bois on Belgian colonialism in the Congo. 43 Thus, like Childress’s Gold Through the Trees , Hansberry’s Les Blancs is a testament to the endurance of Du Bois’s theatrical vision. Their collective Black internationalist dramatic output attests to the endurance of Du Bois’s expansive, internationalist vision of Black politics. Taken together with Du Bois’s own pageantry, Childres’s and Hansberry’s pan-African dramas exemplify the ways by which Du Bois’s “pan-Negro” theatrical “ideas have influenced a multitude who do not even know his name.” Moreover, they trace how Du Bois’s pan-Africanist and Black internationalist politics have long served as a central pillar of Black American theatre. Indeed, Du Bois’s “pan-Negro” theatrical vision influenced Black artists well beyond Childress and Hansberry. His distinctive Black internationalist aesthetics and politics may be viewed as the bedrock upon which the Black Arts Movement took root—from Amiri Baraka’s vision for an anti-Eurocentric and avant-garde “Revolutionary Theatre” to Barabara Ann Teer’s ritual theatre. 44 It would be hard to imagine a contemporary Black theatre canon without the foundation laid by Du Bois’s Black internationalist political vision. In this sense, the “ritualizing repair” enacted by Aleshea Harris’s What to Send Up When It Goes Down — which notably is subtitled “A play. A pageant. A ritual. A homegoing celebration” — exemplifies Du Bois’s enduring yet hidden influence on contemporary Black theatre. 45 With its deft combinations of propaganda and community-building and its explicit citation of Du Bois’s pageantry, Harris’s play-pageant-ritual-celebration stages a “little” community drama undergirded by an expansive “pan-Negro,” Black internationalist theatrical vision that remains urgently relevant in confronting the social and political realities of the Global Majority. References 1 W. E. B. Du Bois, “Krigwa Players Little Negro Theatre: The Story of a Little Theatre Movement,” The Crisis 32, no. 3 (July 1926): 134-135, at 134. 2 On the Little Theatre movement, see Dorothy Chansky, Composing Ourselves: The Little Theatre Movement and the American Audience (Southern Illinois University Press, 2004). 3 David Krasner, Resistance, Parody, and Double Consciousness in African American Theatre, 1895-1910 (St. Martin’s Press, 1997); David Krasner, A Beautiful Pageant: African American Theatre, Drama, and Performance in the Harlem Renaissance, 1910-1927 (Palgrave Macmillan, 2002), 82. 4 W. E. B. Du Bois, The Souls of Black Folk (Chicago: A. C. McClurg, 1903), 3. 5 See, for instance, Ethel Pitts Walker, “Krigwa, a Theatre by, for, and about Black People,” Theatre Journal 40, no. 3 (1988): 347-356; Jonathan Shandell, “The Negro Little Theatre Movement,” in The Cambridge Companion to African American Theatre , second edition, ed. Harvey Young (Cambridge University Press, 2023), 103-118. 6 Soyica Diggs Colbert, The African American Theatrical Body: Reception, Performance, and the Stage (Cambridge University Press, 2011), 48-90. Julia A. Walker, Performance and Modernity: Enacting Change on the Globalizing Stage (Cambridge University Press, 2021), 123-135. 7 W. E. B. Du Bois, “Criteria of Negro Art,” The Crisis 32, no. 6 (October 1926): 290-297, at 296; W. E. B. Du Bois, “A Pageant [1915],” in Pamphlets and Leaflets by W. E. B. Du Bois , ed. Herbert Aptheker (Kraus-Thomson, 1986), 151-152, at 151. 8 Walker, Performance and Modernity , 124. 9 Du Bois dates his first draft to 1911, though no version from such an early date is available in his archives. See W. E. B. Du Bois, “The Star of Ethiopia,” The Crisis 11, no. 2 (December 1915): 91. Freda L. Scott argues that an undated version titled The Jewel of Ethiopia: A Masque in—Episodes is this earliest 1911 draft, though there is no clear evidence to substantiate this claim. See Freda L. Scott, “ The Star of Ethiopia : A Contribution Toward the Development of Black Drama and Theater in the Harlem Renaissance,” in The Harlem Renaissance: Revaluations , ed. Amritjit Singh, William S. Shiver, and Stanley Brodwin (Garland, 1989), 257-269, at 259. 10 W. E. B. Du Bois, “The National Emancipation Exposition,” The Crisis 7, no. 1 (November 1913): 339-341; W. E. B. Du Bois, “The Drama Among Black Folk,” The Crisis 12, no. 4 (August 1916): 169-173, at 171. Attesting to the importance of local site in Du Bois’s dramaturgy, this version concludes with “the All-Mother, formerly the Veiled Woman, no unveiled in her chariot with her dancing brood, and the bust of Lincoln at her side ” (Du Bois, “The National Emancipation Exposition,” 341; italics mine). Notably, Lincoln disappears from the 1915 version and subsequent iterations. 11 W. E. B. Du Bois, “The Star of Ethiopia,” The Crisis 11, no. 2 (December 1915): 90-94; “The Star of Ethiopia,” Washington Bee , October 9, 1915, 1; Andrew F. Hilyer, “The Great Pageant,” Washington Bee , October 23, 1915, 1; Scott 261-265. The 1915 Washington, D.C. production has become the most well-documented and studied iteration. See Krasner, A Beautiful Pageant , 81-94; Susan Gillman, Blood Talk: American Race Melodrama and the Culture of the Occult (University of Chicago Press, 2003), 148-199; Colbert, The African American Theatrical Body , 48-90. Julia A. Walker focuses on an early draft of the 1915 production; see Performance and Modernity , 123-135. 12 Du Bois, “The Drama Among Black Folk,” 169; W. E. B. Du Bois, “The Pageant of the Angels,” The Crisis 30, no. 5 (September 1925): 217-218. For an outline of the 1925 Los Angeles pageant, see W. E. B. Du Bois, “‘The Star of Ethiopia’: A Pageant of Negro History by W. E. Burghardt Du Bois,” in Pamphlets and Leaflets by W. E. B. Du Bois , 206-209. 13 “The Star of Ethiopia,” Washington Bee , October 9, 1915, 1; Du Bois, “‘The Star of Ethiopia’: A Pageant of Negro History by W. E. Burghardt Du Bois.” 14 W. E. B. Du Bois, The Autobiography of W E. B. Du Bois: A Soliloquy on Viewing My Life from the Last Decade of Its First Century (Oxford University Press, 2007), 172. 15 W. E. B. Du Bois, The Negro (Henry Holt, 1915), vi. 16 W. E. B. Du Bois, “The Conservation of Races,” in The Oxford W. E. B. Du Bois Reader , ed. Eric J. Sundquist (Oxford University Press, 1996), 38-47, at 42-43. 17 Soyica Diggs Colbert, The African American Theatrical Body: Reception, Performance, and the Stage (Cambridge University Press, 2011), 48-49. 18 Krasner 82. Walker offers a similar interpretation that “[w]hat thus begins as a specifically African American pageant becomes an expression of global Blackness more generally” (Walker, Performance and Modernity , 125-126). 19 Du Bois, “The Conservation of Races,” 42. 20 Colbert, African American Theatrical Body , 60. 21 Du Bois, Autobiography 172. 22 Du Bois, Autobiography , 172. 23 W. E. B. Du Bois, “The Drama Among Black Folk,” 173. 24 Walker, Performance and Modernity , 124-125. 25 W. E. B. Du Bois, “The Drama Among Black Folk,” 171. 26 Colbert, African American Theatrical Body , 65. 27 Colbert, African American Theatrical Body , 48. Howard University later purchased the land on which the stadium rested to build what is now Howard University Hospital; my thanks to Joshua Wilde for alerting me to this geography . 28 Du Bois, “Krigwa Players,” 134. 29 Imani Perry, Looking for Lorraine: The Radiant and Radical Life of Lorraine Hansberry (Beacon Press, 2018); Soyica Diggs Colbert, Radical Vision: A Biography of Lorraine Hansberry (Yale University Press, 2021); Mary Helen Washington, The Other Blacklist: The African American Literary and Cultural Left of the 1950s (Columbia University Press, 2014), 123-164. 30 W. E. B. Du Bois, The World and Africa, in The World and Africa | Color and Democracy , ed. Henry Louis Gates Jr. (Oxford University Press, 2007), 1–164. 31 Washington 128; Judith E. Smith, “Finding a New Home in Harlem: Alice Childress and the Committee for the Negro in the Arts,” American Studies Faculty Publication Series 14 (2017): 17n21, https://scholarworks.umb.edu/amst_faculty_pubs/14 . 32 Alice Childress and Lorraine Hansberry, “Negro History Festival, February 29, 1952”; Alice Childress Papers, Schomburg Center for Research in Black Culture, Box 45, File 25). This script lists both Hansberry and Childress as coauthors, although the festival program attributes authorship solely to Childress (cf. Freedom on the Anniversary of Its First Year of Publication Presents a Cultural Festival in Celebration of Negro History Month ; Alice Childress Papers, Box 8, File 8). 33 Alice Childress, “Report on the Gold Coast (n.d.)”; Alice Childress Papers, Box 46, File 4; Lorraine Hansberry, “W. E. B. Du Bois Seminar on Africa, April 20, 1953,” Lorraine Hansberry Papers, Schomburg Center for Research in Black Culture, Box 1, File 5. Whereas Hansberry’s essay includes a note on the header stating that it was written “For Dr. Du Bois, African History Seminar, Jefferson School, New York City, 1953,” no such indication of the provenance of Childress’s essay survives; nevertheless, it is highly probable that Childress’s Gold Coast essay was written for Du Bois’s course. 34 “Dr. and Mrs. W. E. B. Du Bois invite...” June 8, 1953; Alice Childress Papers, Box 8, File 8. 35 W. E. B. Du Bois, letter to Alice Childress, March 25, 1955; Alice Childress Papers, Box 9, File 16. Alice Childress, interview with Martin Duberman; Alice Childress Papers, Box 11, File 13. 36 W. E. B. Du Bois, letter to Alice Childress, April 20, 1953; Alice Childress Papers, Box 9, File 16; “‘A Milestone on the Road to Truth’: A Cultural Reception in Honor of Dr. Herbert Aptheker, Historian,” Thursday, April 23, [1953], Alice Childress Papers, Schomburg Center, Box 10, File 1; see also Rev. B. C. Robeson, letter to Alice Childress, April 14, 1953, Alice Childress Papers, Box 10, File 1. Mae Henderson [Negro Actors Associated], letter to Alice Childress, May 2, 1956, Alice Childress Papers, Box 10, File 1. 37 Gerald Horne, Race Woman: The Lives of Shirley Graham Du Bois (New York University Press, 2008), 18. 38 Judith E. Smith, Visions of Belonging: Family Stories, Popular Culture, and Postwar Democracy, 1940-1960 (Columbia University Press, 2004), 292, 295. 39 Shirley Graham Du Bois, letter to Lorraine Hansberry, April 15, 1960, Lorraine Hansberry Papers, Schomburg Center, Box 2, File 16. 40 Lorraine Hansberry, “Remarks by Lorraine Hansberry at Memorial Meeting for W. E. B. Du Bois, Carnegie Hall, New York City,” February 29, 1964; Lorraine Hansberry Papers, Schomburg Center, Box 56, File 21. 41 Perry 179. 42 Colbert, The African American Theatrical Body , 27-33. 43 Robert Nemiroff, “A Critical Background,” in Lorraine Hansberry, Les Blancs: The Collected Last Plays (Vintage, 1994), 27-35, at 28-29. 44 Amiri Baraka, “The Revolutionary Theatre,” in LeRoi Jones (Amiri Baraka), Home: Social Essays (Akashic Books, 2009 [1965]), 199-203; La Donna L. Forsgren, In Search of Our Warrior Mothers: Women Dramatists of the Black Arts Movement (Northwestern University Press, 2018), 17-36. 43 Isaiah Matthew Wooden, “At the Nexus of Catharsis and Black Healing: Ritualizing Repair in What to Send Up When It Goes Down ,” Theatre Annual 76 (2023): 30-43; Aleshea Harris, “ What to Send Up When It Goes Down: A play. A pageant. A ritual. A homegoing celebration ,” American Theatre 36, no. 4 (2019): 52-65, at 52. Footnotes About The Author(s) Kellen Hoxworth is an assistant professor and the Director of Graduate Studies in the Department of Theatre and Dance at the University at Buffalo – State University of New York, where he is also affiliated with the Department of Africana and American Studies, the Department of Global Gender and Sexuality Studies, and the Department of History. His book Transoceanic Blackface: Empire, Race, Performance received an Honorable Mention for the John W. Frick Book Award from the American Theatre & Drama Society. His research has been published in American Quarterly , the Journal of Dramatic Theory & Criticism , Modern Drama , TDR , Theatre Journal , Theatre Survey , and in several edited volumes, and he recently co-edited a special section of TDR on “Blackface Geographies.” He is also a recipient of the Errol Hill Award from the American Society for Theatre Research for outstanding scholarship in African American theater, drama, and performance studies. Journal of American Drama & Theatre JADT publishes thoughtful and innovative work by leading scholars on theatre, drama, and performance in the Americas – past and present. Provocative articles provide valuable insight and information on the heritage of American theatre, as well as its continuing contribution to world literature and the performing arts. Founded in 1989 and previously edited by Professors Vera Mowry Roberts, Jane Bowers, and David Savran, this widely acclaimed peer reviewed journal is now edited by Dr. Benjamin Gillespie and Dr. Bess Rowen. Journal of American Drama and Theatre is a publication of the Martin E. Segal Theatre Center. Visit Journal Homepage Table of Contents - Current Issue 100 Years of Du Bois: “Principles of a Real Negro Theatre” and “Criteria of Negro Art” “One Great and Fine Mode of Expression”: On W. E. B. Du Bois and the Exigencies of Black Drama and Theatre Reflections on Fundamental Principles An Expansive “Us”: W. E. B. Du Bois’s “Pan-Negro” Theatrical Vision W. E. B. Du Bois’s Krigwa Little Negro Theatre Movement in Harlem and Beyond It Was All a Dream: Shifting Du Boisian Notions in Richard Wesley’s The Talented Tenth Teaching August Wilson in an Age of Democratic Decline: Du Boisian Imperatives and Black Pedagogy Across Campus and Community Debbie with a D Talks Theatre with a T The Wild Duck Picnic at Hanging Rock Last Call: A Play with Cocktails The Dinosaurs The Routledge Anthology of Women’s Theatre Theory and Dramatic Criticism. Catherine Burroughs and J. Ellen Gainor, editors. New York: Routledge, 2024; Pp. 652. Black Patience: Performance, Civil Rights, and the Unfinished Project of Emancipation. Julius B. Fleming Jr. New York: New York University Press, 2022; Pp. 301. The Theatre of Paula Vogel: Practice, Pedagogy, and Influences. Lee Brewer Jones. New York: Methuen Drama, 2023; Pp. 194. 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Paul E. Fallon. Cambridge, Massachusetts Back to Top Untitled Article References Copy of References Authors Keep Reading < Back Journal of American Drama & Theatre Volume Issue 37 1 Visit Journal Homepage Greater Boston’s Independent Theatres. 2023-24 Season Paul E. Fallon. Cambridge, Massachusetts By Published on December 16, 2024 Download Article as PDF Jay Eddy in Boston Playwrights' Theatre Driving in Circles. Photo: Scornavacca Photography. The 2023-2024 Boston theatre season opened on a down note. After forty years, struggling through the pandemic and refocusing its mission to portray underrepresented voices, New Rep closed. Fortunately, theatre is regenerative, and newer companies are emerging. This compendium provides a snapshot of five of Boston’s independent theatre companies and highlights a representative production from their season. Moonbox Productions Cambridge, Massachusetts, 2023-24 Sweeney Todd Music and Lyrics by  Stephen Sondheim , Book by  Hugh Wheeler (13 Oct. -5 Nov.) Legally Blonde Music and Lyrics by Laurence O'Keefe and Nell Benjamin, Book by Heather Hach (8 Dec. -31 Dec. ) The Manic Monologues Zachary Burton and Elisa Hofmeister (16 Feb. -25 Feb.) Mermaid Hour David Valdes (26 Apr. -19 May) Boston New Works Festival 2024 (22 Jun.-24 Jun.) Moonbox Productions’ dual vision is to create exceptional theatre using local talent and connect audiences with extraordinary service organizations. Since 2011, Moonbox has staged over twenty productions, each highlighting a local non-profit. Their range is astounding, from mainstage musicals featuring large casts, live orchestras, elaborate sets, exquisite costumes, and exuberant choreography to black box intimacy where actors in street clothes on a bare stage reveal unadorned trials of the human condition. Mermaid Hour fused Moonbox’s range in a gorgeous production of an intimate drama. The arresting set featured bands of fabric swirling in a vortex of sea greens and blues toward the stage floor, where a curvilinear counter, a plinth, and a few stools anchored the unfolding family trials. Vi, a twelve-year-old trans girl, pushes every limit of her age and identity. But the play focuses on her working-class parents, struggling to do right by a child far beyond expectation. Director Bridget Kathleen O’Leary kept the family interactions tight—actors faced each other more than the audience—mirroring the circular set and reinforcing their private struggles. Speakeasy Stage Company Boston, Massachusetts, 2023-24 POTUS Selina Fillinger (15 Sep. -15 Oct.) The Band’s Visit Music and Lyrics by  David Yazbek , Book by  Itamar Moses (10 Nov.- 17 Dec. ), co-production with The Huntington A Case for the Existence of God Samuel D. Hunter (26 Jan. -18 Feb.) Cost of Living Martina Majok (8 Mar.-30 Mar.) A Strange Loop Michael R. Jackson (26 Apr. - 25 May) Speakeasy’s thirty-third season continued the company’s tradition of reinterpreting recent Broadway successes for a Boston audience. Their exquisite production of the 2022 New York Drama Critic Award-winning, A Case for the Existence of God , portrayed two earnest though flawed men struggling to navigate a world littered with obstacles. Can God exist within a mortgage broker’s cubicle in Twin Falls, Idaho? The two men never left their chairs in the harshly lit, tightly bound set. Quick blackouts indicated passing time and place. They moved closer as each man’s shrinking opportunity drew him to the unlikely other. Under Melinda Lopez’s understated direction, every element shrank until the set literally burst apart, and a case was made for the existence of God. Lyric Stage Boston, Massachusetts 2023-24 Assassins Music & Lyrics by Stephen Sondheim, Book by John Weidman (15 Sep.-15 Oct.) The Game’s Afoot Ken Ludwig (10 Nov. -17 Dec. ) Trouble in Mind Alice Childress (12 Jan.-4 Feb.) Thirst Ronán Noone (23 Feb.-17 Mar.) The Drowsy Chaperone Music & Lyrics by Lisa Lambert & Greg Morrison, Book by Bob Martin & Don McKellar (5 Apr.-12 May) Yellow Face , David Henry Hwang (31 May-23 Jun.) Artistic Director Courtney O’Connor celebrated Lyric Stage Boston’s 50th season with a full season of theatrical variety. In honor of the anniversary, the Lyric’s lobby was redecorated with custom wallpaper featuring scenes from notable productions. The Drowsy Chaperone highlighted what this little theatre company does best: make big stage musicals sparkle in an intimate setting. A curmudgeonly theater maven, in the present, spins his angst and his turntable through the prism of a 1920’s-era musical that comes to life in his grungy apartment. Paul Melendy, as Man-in-the-Chair, perfectly maneuvered the transitions from exuberant production numbers to narrative commentary. Each of the fifteen musical characters is a cliché, but the clichés clicked magnificently. The energy whirling around the 244-seat theater saturated the audience with everything we love about musical theatre. Delightful costumes, especially the four-tier swimming suit that unraveled heroine Janet during “Show Off.” Abundant tricks: tap dancing, roller skating, ridiculous incognitos. Impeccable comic timing: I guffawed until my belly ached. Central Square Theater Cambridge, Massachusetts 2023-24 Angels in America, Part 2: Perestroika Tony Kushner (7 Sep. -8 Oct.) The Rocky Horror Show Richard O’Brien (28 Oct.-3 Dec.) Machine Learning Francisco Mendoza (25 Jan.-25 Feb.) Beyond Words Laura Maria Censabella (14 Mar.-14 Apr.) next to normal Brian Yorkey (30 May-23 Jun.) Central Square Theater (CST), under the consistent leadership of Executive Director Catherine Carr Kelly and Artistic Director Lee Mikeska Gardner, continued its focus on exploring social justice, science, and gender politics through theatre by producing five plays with unique perspectives. Beyond Words is a new play, produced in conjunction with Catalyst Collaborative at MIT, that tracks Dr. Irene Pepperberg and her work with Alex, an African Grey parrot, whom she prompts to meaningful communication and problem-solving. Smooth transitions and clever theatrical devices kept the audience engaged in the predictable, happy plot. Shyster scientists fixated on studying apes turn into them. Hear-no-evil, see-no-evil, speak no-evil muses create a Greek chorus of nay-sayers slow to appreciate Dr. Pepperberg’s remarkable science. A tennis match where Irene served up her findings was particularly satisfying. Boston Playwrights’ Theatre Boston, Massachusetts 2023-24 Fringe Festival 2023-2024 Isabelle Sanatdar Stevens, Brandon Zang, Tina Esper, and Maggie Kearnan (22 Sep. -14 Oct. ) Mr. Parent Melinda Lopez and Maurice Emmanuel Parent (10 Oct. -22 Oct.) Kill The Magistrate Abbey Fenbert (4 Dec.) Driving in Circles Jay Eddy (21 Mar. -6 Apr.) Boston Theater Marathon (5 May) Hoops Eliana Pipes (21 May) Boston Playwrights’ Theatre (BPT) has traditionally produced new plays written by students in Boston University’s MFA in Playwriting Program. This season, Artistic Director Megan Sandberg-Zakian expanded BPT’s focus by representing a wider range of the BU community. She grouped several plays by existing students into the Fringe Festivaland then offered full productions of new work by alumn i and faculty. The result was more opportunities for more voices. Driving in Circles is a new play by BU alum Jay Eddy. Writer, singer, and actor Eddy told their personal story of abuse and healing with more vitality than pathos. The pace was frantic as stand-up comedy. Two backup musicians anchored the action at keyboard and drums, while Jay was everywhere: center stage, in the audience, and bouncing off the highway that curved up and away along the rear wall. This entry is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 4.0 International license. References Footnotes About The Author(s) Paul E. Fallon is an architect who spent over thirty years designing housing and healthcare facilities. A commitment to Haiti after the 2010 earthquake became the focus of his first book, Architecture by Moonlight . In 2015-2016, Paul bicycled through each of the 48 contiguous states and asked everyone he met the same question. How Will We Live Tomorrow? became his second book. Returning to Cambridge, MA, Paul continues to write blog essays, plays, and NETIR articles about Boston-area theatre companies. Journal of American Drama & Theatre JADT publishes thoughtful and innovative work by leading scholars on theatre, drama, and performance in the Americas – past and present. Provocative articles provide valuable insight and information on the heritage of American theatre, as well as its continuing contribution to world literature and the performing arts. Founded in 1989 and previously edited by Professors Vera Mowry Roberts, Jane Bowers, and David Savran, this widely acclaimed peer reviewed journal is now edited by Dr. Benjamin Gillespie and Dr. Bess Rowen. Journal of American Drama and Theatre is a publication of the Martin E. Segal Theatre Center. Visit Journal Homepage Table of Contents - Current Issue Editorial Introduction A Comedy of Sorts: Race, Gender, and Satire in Slave Play Performing Girlhood, Riffing on Lolita: Fornés and Vogel Respond to Nabokov “It’s Cumming yet for a’ that”: Bringing the Scottish Bard to Life in the 21st Century Historiographic Metatheatre and Narrative Closure in Pippin’s Alternate “Theo Ending” “Each One, Teach One”: Interview with Harvey Fierstein Artists as Theorists in Their Craft: Interview with James Ijames The Spectacular Theatre of Frank Joseph Galati: Reshaping American Theatre in Chicago, Illinois. Julie Jackson. London: Methuen Drama, Bloomsbury Publishing. 2022. 215pp. Playing Real: Mimesis, Media, and Mischief. Lindsay Brandon Hunter. Evanston, Illinois: Northwestern University Press, 2021; Pp. 192. Broadway Bodies: A Critical History of Conformity. Ryan Donovan. New York: Oxford University Press, 2023; Pp. 316. Precarious Forms. Performing Utopia in the Neoliberal Americas. Evanston. Candice Amich. Northwestern University Press: 2020; Pp. 232. Queering Drag: Redefining the Discourse of Gender Bending. Meredith Heller. Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 2020; Pp. 236. New England Theatre Journal: A fond farewell 1989-2023 New England Theatre in Review American Repertory Theater . Cambridge, Massachusetts, 2023–2024 Barrington Stage. Pittsfield, Massachusetts, 2023 The Sandra Feinstein-Gamm Theatre (The Gamm). Warwick, Rhode Island, 2023-24 Greater Boston’s Independent Theatres. 2023-24 Season Hartford Stage. Hartford, Connecticut, 2023-24 The Huntington. Boston, Massachusetts, 2023-24 Long Wharf Theatre. New Haven, Connecticut, 2023-24 Portland Stage Company. Portland, Maine, 2023-24 Shakespeare & Company. Lenox, Massachusetts, 2023 Trinity Repertory Theatre Company. Providence, Rhode Island, 2023-24 Vermont Stage. Burlington, Vermont, 2023-24 Yale Repertory Theatre. New Haven, Connecticut, 2023-24 Previous Next Attribution: This entry is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 4.0 International license.