Artistic Statement
My favorite sound in the world is a gaggle of queer people cackling together in recognition. As the homosexual offspring of a Southern mother and North Jersey, Italian-American father, I’ve always approached emotionally fraught situations with an inappropriate amount of humor. By extension, I write plays about outsized queer people who are awkwardly attempting (and generally failing) to engage with serious subject matter using only dry wit and impeccably timed combative taunts. This usually translates into plays with both heavy themes and a surprisingly high joke density.
I derive an inordinate amount of joy from using tropes to poke fun at other tropes. Susan Sontag famously defined camp as “art that proposes itself seriously, but cannot be taken altogether seriously because it is ‘too much.’” The characters who populate my imaginary worlds, much like the ones who inhabit my real life, lovingly embrace their too-muchness and admonish you with a wink and wry smile to get on their level. Whether committing homicide with a polyester-spandex murder weapon, setting booby traps for nefarious lacrosse bros at a masculinity camp, or checking themselves into a nursing home for retired fictional Canadian girlfriends, they’re helping me discover my own version of camp.
As an artist, I aim to give women, non-binary, and queer actors better, more interesting, and less reductive roles and to foster and champion women, non-binary, and queer playwrights, directors, and production staff at every stage of the process. I believe that theatre is for everyone, regardless of race, socioeconomic status, country of origin, etc., and that this diversity of experience should not only be celebrated in narratives, but in casting and behind the scenes as well.
Finally, I strongly feel that artists should push back against the scarcity mindset and competitive nature of the business by supporting their fellow writers unselfishly, especially if those artists are members of historically marginalized groups—good theatre that attracts new audiences and highlights new perspectives is good for everyone.
I derive an inordinate amount of joy from using tropes to poke fun at other tropes. Susan Sontag famously defined camp as “art that proposes itself seriously, but cannot be taken altogether seriously because it is ‘too much.’” The characters who populate my imaginary worlds, much like the ones who inhabit my real life, lovingly embrace their too-muchness and admonish you with a wink and wry smile to get on their level. Whether committing homicide with a polyester-spandex murder weapon, setting booby traps for nefarious lacrosse bros at a masculinity camp, or checking themselves into a nursing home for retired fictional Canadian girlfriends, they’re helping me discover my own version of camp.
As an artist, I aim to give women, non-binary, and queer actors better, more interesting, and less reductive roles and to foster and champion women, non-binary, and queer playwrights, directors, and production staff at every stage of the process. I believe that theatre is for everyone, regardless of race, socioeconomic status, country of origin, etc., and that this diversity of experience should not only be celebrated in narratives, but in casting and behind the scenes as well.
Finally, I strongly feel that artists should push back against the scarcity mindset and competitive nature of the business by supporting their fellow writers unselfishly, especially if those artists are members of historically marginalized groups—good theatre that attracts new audiences and highlights new perspectives is good for everyone.
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John Bavoso
Artistic Statement
My favorite sound in the world is a gaggle of queer people cackling together in recognition. As the homosexual offspring of a Southern mother and North Jersey, Italian-American father, I’ve always approached emotionally fraught situations with an inappropriate amount of humor. By extension, I write plays about outsized queer people who are awkwardly attempting (and generally failing) to engage with serious subject matter using only dry wit and impeccably timed combative taunts. This usually translates into plays with both heavy themes and a surprisingly high joke density.
I derive an inordinate amount of joy from using tropes to poke fun at other tropes. Susan Sontag famously defined camp as “art that proposes itself seriously, but cannot be taken altogether seriously because it is ‘too much.’” The characters who populate my imaginary worlds, much like the ones who inhabit my real life, lovingly embrace their too-muchness and admonish you with a wink and wry smile to get on their level. Whether committing homicide with a polyester-spandex murder weapon, setting booby traps for nefarious lacrosse bros at a masculinity camp, or checking themselves into a nursing home for retired fictional Canadian girlfriends, they’re helping me discover my own version of camp.
As an artist, I aim to give women, non-binary, and queer actors better, more interesting, and less reductive roles and to foster and champion women, non-binary, and queer playwrights, directors, and production staff at every stage of the process. I believe that theatre is for everyone, regardless of race, socioeconomic status, country of origin, etc., and that this diversity of experience should not only be celebrated in narratives, but in casting and behind the scenes as well.
Finally, I strongly feel that artists should push back against the scarcity mindset and competitive nature of the business by supporting their fellow writers unselfishly, especially if those artists are members of historically marginalized groups—good theatre that attracts new audiences and highlights new perspectives is good for everyone.
I derive an inordinate amount of joy from using tropes to poke fun at other tropes. Susan Sontag famously defined camp as “art that proposes itself seriously, but cannot be taken altogether seriously because it is ‘too much.’” The characters who populate my imaginary worlds, much like the ones who inhabit my real life, lovingly embrace their too-muchness and admonish you with a wink and wry smile to get on their level. Whether committing homicide with a polyester-spandex murder weapon, setting booby traps for nefarious lacrosse bros at a masculinity camp, or checking themselves into a nursing home for retired fictional Canadian girlfriends, they’re helping me discover my own version of camp.
As an artist, I aim to give women, non-binary, and queer actors better, more interesting, and less reductive roles and to foster and champion women, non-binary, and queer playwrights, directors, and production staff at every stage of the process. I believe that theatre is for everyone, regardless of race, socioeconomic status, country of origin, etc., and that this diversity of experience should not only be celebrated in narratives, but in casting and behind the scenes as well.
Finally, I strongly feel that artists should push back against the scarcity mindset and competitive nature of the business by supporting their fellow writers unselfishly, especially if those artists are members of historically marginalized groups—good theatre that attracts new audiences and highlights new perspectives is good for everyone.