Artistic Statement
I grew up in a small Louisiana town shaped by poverty, addiction, and mental illness. Most people who grow up in Louisiana and other places like it are no strangers to fear, darkness, and fighting to survive another day. These resilient Southern communities are often misrepresented and satirized by people who have never been there. Writing became not only my escape but also my purpose. My mission is to rebuild the Southern canon, adding new layers encompassing this region's full spectrum of human experience. It's about presenting more expansive stories, not just the dark and haunting but also the stories of joy, durability, and community.
I am a Southern Gothic playwright drawn to the innocence and hopefulness of characters navigating dangerous, sometimes nightmarish worlds. My plays often live on the edge of magical realism, where children talk to trees, the stars remember your name, and despite the violence, we see the tenderness of a resilient community who have made friends with the dark while still reaching for the light. My characters are fighters. They are not naive. Even when the world around them hardens, they keep their bellies soft. Their empathy is their power.
My theatrical work thrives in that liminal space between horror and humor, beauty and the grotesque. I believe in the theatricality of emotion: that when feelings get too big, too ugly, or too sacred, they demand to be put on stage. With its heightened sense of place, violence, and beauty, the Southern Gothic genre gives me a fertile ground to do that. I gravitate toward plays where something supernatural lurks beneath the surface, not for spectacle's sake, but because metaphor is often the best way to speak truth. And through it all, comedy is a constant; it allows us to hold our pain without being consumed by it.
Much of my work centers on young characters or those with a youthful lens on the world because I am not interested in writing jaded characters who accept their fate. Hope is a form of resistance. I write about people who refuse to settle, who find joy in the face of fear, and who build community even when the world tries to isolate them.
I am a Southern Gothic playwright drawn to the innocence and hopefulness of characters navigating dangerous, sometimes nightmarish worlds. My plays often live on the edge of magical realism, where children talk to trees, the stars remember your name, and despite the violence, we see the tenderness of a resilient community who have made friends with the dark while still reaching for the light. My characters are fighters. They are not naive. Even when the world around them hardens, they keep their bellies soft. Their empathy is their power.
My theatrical work thrives in that liminal space between horror and humor, beauty and the grotesque. I believe in the theatricality of emotion: that when feelings get too big, too ugly, or too sacred, they demand to be put on stage. With its heightened sense of place, violence, and beauty, the Southern Gothic genre gives me a fertile ground to do that. I gravitate toward plays where something supernatural lurks beneath the surface, not for spectacle's sake, but because metaphor is often the best way to speak truth. And through it all, comedy is a constant; it allows us to hold our pain without being consumed by it.
Much of my work centers on young characters or those with a youthful lens on the world because I am not interested in writing jaded characters who accept their fate. Hope is a form of resistance. I write about people who refuse to settle, who find joy in the face of fear, and who build community even when the world tries to isolate them.
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Emma Schillage
Artistic Statement
I grew up in a small Louisiana town shaped by poverty, addiction, and mental illness. Most people who grow up in Louisiana and other places like it are no strangers to fear, darkness, and fighting to survive another day. These resilient Southern communities are often misrepresented and satirized by people who have never been there. Writing became not only my escape but also my purpose. My mission is to rebuild the Southern canon, adding new layers encompassing this region's full spectrum of human experience. It's about presenting more expansive stories, not just the dark and haunting but also the stories of joy, durability, and community.
I am a Southern Gothic playwright drawn to the innocence and hopefulness of characters navigating dangerous, sometimes nightmarish worlds. My plays often live on the edge of magical realism, where children talk to trees, the stars remember your name, and despite the violence, we see the tenderness of a resilient community who have made friends with the dark while still reaching for the light. My characters are fighters. They are not naive. Even when the world around them hardens, they keep their bellies soft. Their empathy is their power.
My theatrical work thrives in that liminal space between horror and humor, beauty and the grotesque. I believe in the theatricality of emotion: that when feelings get too big, too ugly, or too sacred, they demand to be put on stage. With its heightened sense of place, violence, and beauty, the Southern Gothic genre gives me a fertile ground to do that. I gravitate toward plays where something supernatural lurks beneath the surface, not for spectacle's sake, but because metaphor is often the best way to speak truth. And through it all, comedy is a constant; it allows us to hold our pain without being consumed by it.
Much of my work centers on young characters or those with a youthful lens on the world because I am not interested in writing jaded characters who accept their fate. Hope is a form of resistance. I write about people who refuse to settle, who find joy in the face of fear, and who build community even when the world tries to isolate them.
I am a Southern Gothic playwright drawn to the innocence and hopefulness of characters navigating dangerous, sometimes nightmarish worlds. My plays often live on the edge of magical realism, where children talk to trees, the stars remember your name, and despite the violence, we see the tenderness of a resilient community who have made friends with the dark while still reaching for the light. My characters are fighters. They are not naive. Even when the world around them hardens, they keep their bellies soft. Their empathy is their power.
My theatrical work thrives in that liminal space between horror and humor, beauty and the grotesque. I believe in the theatricality of emotion: that when feelings get too big, too ugly, or too sacred, they demand to be put on stage. With its heightened sense of place, violence, and beauty, the Southern Gothic genre gives me a fertile ground to do that. I gravitate toward plays where something supernatural lurks beneath the surface, not for spectacle's sake, but because metaphor is often the best way to speak truth. And through it all, comedy is a constant; it allows us to hold our pain without being consumed by it.
Much of my work centers on young characters or those with a youthful lens on the world because I am not interested in writing jaded characters who accept their fate. Hope is a form of resistance. I write about people who refuse to settle, who find joy in the face of fear, and who build community even when the world tries to isolate them.