Artistic Statement
Why does a pain psychologist write plays? I am now back on the trail of new creative homes, playmates and families where I can bring together my affection and fascination for my fellow humans in both small rooms and large. Where cocktails of tears and laughter are served up to thirsty and dull hearts who leave those rooms as much in love with themselves as with their fellow theater lovers. I want to bring people plays that, when literally breathed in, allow people to know how I am moved when I sit with my pain patients.
When I was a kid, I wanted to know why people suffered and what led to the end of suffering. And not just the end of suffering, but the mystery of joy, elation and satisfaction. To understand these journeys, I went out on edges and came back, to tell the stories in the form of plays, so that others could feel inspired to find their own ecstasy, homes and families. One of the edges was to become a pain psychologist and the other one was to be an artist. My first play was about two fictional patients of Sigmund Freud whose alienation from society led their bodies to malfunction. This play led me to put my psychology studies on hold to write more plays about suffering and the end of suffering.
Eventually, I put plays on hold to return to training to be a psychologist. This has been a deep dive into holding space for the healing of some of life’s worst kinds of agony. Like being shot at work or being maimed by a machine. Or having a sick, painful body that never gets better. All of these suffering bodies have hearts that keep beating, sharing stories of before, now and what might be. It is an ineffable privilege to hear these stories, and they have softened my heart more than I ever thought possible.
I am coming back to theater at a time when plays are inviting people who used to be separate to come together. Theaters’ thresholds blink welcome signs to audiences more diverse than ever before in history. I am thrilled to be back. I write funny, sexy plays about dykes that lots of different kinds of people enjoy. My characters are a delicious combination of goofy and smart, bumbling through life trying to have a little fun, with an ultimate experience thrown in for good measure.
When I was a kid, I wanted to know why people suffered and what led to the end of suffering. And not just the end of suffering, but the mystery of joy, elation and satisfaction. To understand these journeys, I went out on edges and came back, to tell the stories in the form of plays, so that others could feel inspired to find their own ecstasy, homes and families. One of the edges was to become a pain psychologist and the other one was to be an artist. My first play was about two fictional patients of Sigmund Freud whose alienation from society led their bodies to malfunction. This play led me to put my psychology studies on hold to write more plays about suffering and the end of suffering.
Eventually, I put plays on hold to return to training to be a psychologist. This has been a deep dive into holding space for the healing of some of life’s worst kinds of agony. Like being shot at work or being maimed by a machine. Or having a sick, painful body that never gets better. All of these suffering bodies have hearts that keep beating, sharing stories of before, now and what might be. It is an ineffable privilege to hear these stories, and they have softened my heart more than I ever thought possible.
I am coming back to theater at a time when plays are inviting people who used to be separate to come together. Theaters’ thresholds blink welcome signs to audiences more diverse than ever before in history. I am thrilled to be back. I write funny, sexy plays about dykes that lots of different kinds of people enjoy. My characters are a delicious combination of goofy and smart, bumbling through life trying to have a little fun, with an ultimate experience thrown in for good measure.
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Bayla Travis
Artistic Statement
Why does a pain psychologist write plays? I am now back on the trail of new creative homes, playmates and families where I can bring together my affection and fascination for my fellow humans in both small rooms and large. Where cocktails of tears and laughter are served up to thirsty and dull hearts who leave those rooms as much in love with themselves as with their fellow theater lovers. I want to bring people plays that, when literally breathed in, allow people to know how I am moved when I sit with my pain patients.
When I was a kid, I wanted to know why people suffered and what led to the end of suffering. And not just the end of suffering, but the mystery of joy, elation and satisfaction. To understand these journeys, I went out on edges and came back, to tell the stories in the form of plays, so that others could feel inspired to find their own ecstasy, homes and families. One of the edges was to become a pain psychologist and the other one was to be an artist. My first play was about two fictional patients of Sigmund Freud whose alienation from society led their bodies to malfunction. This play led me to put my psychology studies on hold to write more plays about suffering and the end of suffering.
Eventually, I put plays on hold to return to training to be a psychologist. This has been a deep dive into holding space for the healing of some of life’s worst kinds of agony. Like being shot at work or being maimed by a machine. Or having a sick, painful body that never gets better. All of these suffering bodies have hearts that keep beating, sharing stories of before, now and what might be. It is an ineffable privilege to hear these stories, and they have softened my heart more than I ever thought possible.
I am coming back to theater at a time when plays are inviting people who used to be separate to come together. Theaters’ thresholds blink welcome signs to audiences more diverse than ever before in history. I am thrilled to be back. I write funny, sexy plays about dykes that lots of different kinds of people enjoy. My characters are a delicious combination of goofy and smart, bumbling through life trying to have a little fun, with an ultimate experience thrown in for good measure.
When I was a kid, I wanted to know why people suffered and what led to the end of suffering. And not just the end of suffering, but the mystery of joy, elation and satisfaction. To understand these journeys, I went out on edges and came back, to tell the stories in the form of plays, so that others could feel inspired to find their own ecstasy, homes and families. One of the edges was to become a pain psychologist and the other one was to be an artist. My first play was about two fictional patients of Sigmund Freud whose alienation from society led their bodies to malfunction. This play led me to put my psychology studies on hold to write more plays about suffering and the end of suffering.
Eventually, I put plays on hold to return to training to be a psychologist. This has been a deep dive into holding space for the healing of some of life’s worst kinds of agony. Like being shot at work or being maimed by a machine. Or having a sick, painful body that never gets better. All of these suffering bodies have hearts that keep beating, sharing stories of before, now and what might be. It is an ineffable privilege to hear these stories, and they have softened my heart more than I ever thought possible.
I am coming back to theater at a time when plays are inviting people who used to be separate to come together. Theaters’ thresholds blink welcome signs to audiences more diverse than ever before in history. I am thrilled to be back. I write funny, sexy plays about dykes that lots of different kinds of people enjoy. My characters are a delicious combination of goofy and smart, bumbling through life trying to have a little fun, with an ultimate experience thrown in for good measure.