Artistic Statement

Artistic Statement

I tend to build plays around uncomfortable questions. The ones that twinge me awake at night, too uncomfortable and way too impolite to discuss in respectable company. Years ago I was convinced these nighttime visitors were unique to me- a very specific culmination of my brain’s thriving microbiome of neuroses. But the first time I watched strangers in Scotland respond to a play inspired by the quasi-hippy Northern California community where I was born, I promised myself to remember that the right combination of specificity and bravery will always make truth feel universal.

Now more than ever, people are starving for truth. They come to the theater for two-ish hours to sit in the dark next to strangers when they could be eating ice cream or making love, then emerge two hours closer to death. If we don’t give them a taste of something compelling, honest and brave- something that makes it a little clearer what it means to be a human in the world- they have every reason to grab torches and pitchforks and run us out of town.

There is so much healing just in hearing a thing named, seeing it materialized and probed from different and equally valid points of view. That’s what I’m trying to find in my writing- the clearest and most honest expression of a specific situation or emotion, from all sides. I try to develop interesting characters, then set them loose to navigate an impossible set of circumstances. From there, it’s just about having the stones to tell the most unflinching version of the truth in a surprising way.

Lately, my itchiest questions have focused around motherhood and lifelong partnership, and the true cost of both institutions for women. When I see a particularly radiant woman over 50 on the subway, I’ll always check her left hand for a wedding ring. I’d tell you what I’ve noticed, but depending on your personal situation, you might want to hit me.