Monday, July 30, 2012

Playwright Maggie Cino Decompresses Burning Man at the NY International Fringe Festival

Phoebe Silva and Michael Criscuolo
"Years of New York living and Burning Man parties had brought me there."
-Maggie Cino
Playwright

How did you get involved in theater?

When I was seven years old my mother told me she was signing me up for a “theater workshop.”  I was the girliest of girly-girls, and I was horrified.  I didn’t want to get all sweaty, nailing boards together in some nasty workshop!  But it turned out she understood me pretty well, because there was no wood and no nails and once that “workshop” was done I never looked back.

What's your play about (and the title)?


A group of friends get together after a Burning Man Decompression party to take ecstasy.  It doesn’t work . . . or does it?  Piled in this apartment in the middle of the night, they start looking for ways to entertain themselves.  Justin, the ringleader, decides they should all combine their worldly possessions and have a lottery for who keeps it all.  As they argue and debate the rules of the game, hairline cracks in their friendships become deep fractures.  A year later, things are irrevocably different.

Victoria Anne Miller, David Goldberg, Adam Lebowitz-Lockard

Everyone in this play is looking for a thrill.  They use drugs, sex, gambling and destructive friendships to distract themselves from their own unhappiness.  But it’s also a story about class.  As Americans, we’re not as equal as we seem.  We live in a culture in which everyone identifies as “middle class.”  That could mean that you never had quite enough food to eat or that you had private schools and ski vacations.

Our sex lives are now public knowledge, splashed all over the internet.  But money is the last frontier of secrecy.  What do a lot of kids with no boundaries do when they decide to play with the last off-limits area in our modern lives?  This was a question I was interested in exploring.

That said, this play is a comedy and intended as entertainment.  There are issues and questions on the table, but the final goal is to tell a good story about interesting characters and have the audience walk out with the last line ringing in their head. 

What was the inspiration for it?
Hannah Vaughn, Michael Criscuolo
When I was twenty years old, I dropped out of college, worked for months, and then got on a plane for anywhere else.  There was just despair all around me that didn’t have a name.  My mother pushed a book into my hands as I was leaving.  It was Isak Dinesen’s “Letters from Africa.”

On the plane, I read this book about a woman far from home struggling with her own blackness but also exhilarated by beauty.  It felt like she had written the letters to me.  Then I read the letter where she said:  “I only wish that someone had been through what I am going through and had written it down, so at least I would know that I wasn’t alone.” Then I knew for sure I would have a life in the arts.

David J. Goldberg and Elizabeth Nagle

I read all of her books after that, and eventually landed on “Carnival”.  It’s is the only story she ever wrote set in the time that she lived in, rather than fifty or a hundred years in the past.  It was about eight friends having a dinner party after a costume ball.  There was something in that story that was like the key to my next step.  She had originally written it to be a puppet drama.  I instantly wanted to make a play out of it, but I didn’t know how.  Life went on, other things happened, and then it was well over a decade later.

I returned to the idea because my friend Parker Leventar who runs a group called Play Party Park Slope asked me to write something brand new for the group.  I wondered if there was anything in the old idea of working with this story.  It was immediately resonant.  Years of New York living and Burning Man parties had brought me there. I also was old enough to realize that her story was meant as a cautionary tale rather than a road map!  But often you don’t realize the warnings until they’re too late.
Goldberg, Silva, Nagle, Vaughn, Criscuolo, Lebowitz-Lockard, Peterson, Miller
What's your writing schedule like?

I like to block out several days in a row to just get lost in the story I’m writing.  Then I can clean and tweak a little each day, but I really need the stretch to do anything important to the structure of what I’m writing.

How do you keep sane?

My journal and yoga.  I sound like someone with a nose ring, right?  Yeah, I totally have a nose ring.  And I also have a really great boyfriend in Michael Gardner.  He’s a pillar and I love him.

What is inspiring you right now?

The show’s director, Patrice Miller, who is rooting out every detail of the relationships in this story and making the stage a playground .  Our skilled and fearless cast:  Rafael Benoit, Michael Criscuolo, David J. Goldberg, Adam Lebowitz-Lockard, Victoria Anne Miller, Elizabeth Nagle, Derrick Peterson, Phoebe Silva and Hannah Vaughn.  They didn’t even know each other before the show, and you’d think they’d gone to Burning Man together for years.

Our AD, Corinne Woods, our SM Nikki Castle, and our design team, Jessica Emerson, Candace Lawrence, Amanda Woodward and Chris Chappell.  With this much support, who wouldn’t feel inspired?
Maggie Cino

Sweet or salty?

Both at once!  Grab everything life has to offer!

Decompression is directed by Patrice Miller and will be presented by the New York International Fringe Festival. More information at www.obviousvolcano.com. Performances will take place at the Kraine Theater, 85 E 4th St.  Tickets are $15 in advance and $18 at the door.
FRI 8/10 @ 5pm
SUN 8/12 @ 9pm
FRI 8/17 @ 3pm
TUE 8/21 @ 9:15pm
SAT 8/25 @ 1pm

Sunday, July 29, 2012

Actress and Guest Blogger Anna Van Valin asks "Have you hugged a playwright today?"


 "Find your playwrights." 
-Anna Van Valin, Actress
It is incredibly powerful for an actor to crack open a classic play and jump into the legacy of words that great actors before them have spoken. But there’s nothing quite like the artistic high of being the first actor to ever speak the words of a new play, in a room with the first audience to ever hear it, and witnessing the playwright watch her play (which she’s usually been flagellating herself over for years) inhale and exhale for the very first time.

The relationship between playwrights and actors is a mutually beneficial codependency.  We need each other, by nature, but if an actor can find a playwright that writes her voice, there’s no better relationship to invest in. I have playwrights that I have worked with over and over again, and hopefully will for a long time. The trust that an actor-playwright bond creates lets both of them feel safe to take bigger risks, go deeper with the work, and show each other off in the best way.

With Scott Rad Brown in Rob Askins "What the Wall Does"
With an actor-playwright combo, your different functions mean that there’s no twinge of competition (or at least comparison) that often exists in even the best actor-actor partnerships. You can commit your best work and know that each one of your success is only benefitting you both.

Collaborating with playwrights will also teach you a thing or two about keeping your ego in check - and plenty about heartbreak.  Many an actor has shown up to rehearsal and been handed new pages, only to find their favorite speech cut or their character’s arc totally diverted. Fighting for your character is valid, but so is knowing when to relent for the sake of the play.  Have a private funeral for that awesome speech about your character’s prom night virginity-losing epiphany that was cut, and let it go.

With playwright Cecelia Copeland, Producer Saviana Stanescu and cast of Courting
Earlier in the year I was hammering away at a line in a new play that just wasn’t working. In a classic actor-ego spasm I was convinced that if I was a REAL actor, I could make any line work.  I kept insisting, “I can do it, don’t change it. I can do it.” The playwright finally said, “Anna, it’s not you, it’s the shitty line.” I conceded, with the appropriate amount of self-loathing, and he replaced it with a much stronger line that became the emotional center of the play.

Anna with Kate McClellan in Tina Benko's "Throat"

 In the end, we all just want to work. Despite the fact that Broadway is choked with revivals of revivals and derivative musicals, for actors, new work is where the work is. Readings turn into workshops which turn into productions. New plays usually have hot emerging directors working on them, with whom you can also develop long-lasting partnerships.  They get the community excited to come out and see you – your off-off-off Broadway production of your own translation of an obscure Strindberg play might be awesome, but no one’s going to see it but your Mom.

With Kieran Campion, Kel Haney, Wrenn Schmidt, Tim McGeever in Micheline Auger's How the Donkey Got Punched.

So find your playwrights. The ones bearing witness to what you are going through, the ones who write your voice, the ones who are telling stories that are aligned with your passion and values. Advocate for them. Rise together. Just make sure you give them their highlighters and binders back at the end of the day.
 
Anna Van Valin is an award-winning actor and filmmaker living in New York. She recently wrote, produced and starred in the film festival hit "Take it Off." She has worked with Primary Stages, Theater for a New Audience, Atlantic Theater Co., and Trinity Rep Company, among many others, and her writing has appeared on Indiewire's "Women and Hollywood."

Tuesday, July 17, 2012

Actors Laura Ramadei and Robbie Collier Sublett on Drugs, Babies and American River

Pre-interview:

Robbie Collier Sublett:  I didn't realize like how much...
Laura Ramadei: Can we just stick the mic somewhere?
Robbie: Why don't we snort it?

M: How is it to inhabit the world of American River?

L: It makes Robbie want to do drugs.

R: It does make me - I don't know why - but I go home every night and I like, just want to-

L: (laughing) get fucked up.

R: I haven't really done any recreational drugs, so I was lamenting the fact that I haven't done more because I feel like I've needed them for this play. Like, what would somebody who's actually done drugs do right now, becuase I hadn't done 'em so maybe I should do some real quick.

L:  I did some.

R: Yeah.

L: The week- the week before we opened.

Laura Ramadei
M: Was that helpful?

L: It was really helpful. It's always helpful to do drugs. Especially meth and heroin.

M: Maybe we should clarify that that's not what you did though.

L: No, I did not do meth and heroin. I have not done those drugs.

R: I was saying that to Stephen Brackett (the director) at the beginning, the drugs are like a fifth character. My girlfriend, Jenny, who came to see the play, said Conner's two loves are Liz and drugs, and Meth in particular, so the thing that's sad is that they both keep disappointing him. They both have that effect on him.

That's one of those interesting things too, because it's not only about being an addict, like what it's like when the drugs are in your system, because that's something you have to think about as an actor, but when you're in recovery, it's not like me or you being, 'oh, I can stop when I want to stop. I don't need to have another drink, I don't need to whatever'. In the addict, that mechanism doesn't exist for them, or it's been totally eroded, and not been around and functional for a long long time.

Robbie Collier Sublett
So that's one of the things I've been trying to layer back in, so as soon as it's introduced into the room or the conversation, his antenna pops up and he tries really hard, and he convinces himself that he's not into it, and doesn't need it, but then as soon as it pops up, it's too much. It's been another fun thing to play with.

L: I was talking to Kelsey last night about this, this factoid about Meth, that we'll assume is accurate, that it's the only drug that the first time you take it, it rewires your nerves. I don't know if I'm even saying it correctly, but it's splinters them off into various directions so to follow an impulse takes that much more connection than it normally would.

We've talked about focus and possibility and ideas and boredom slipping away when you're high, and that because these are kids that are sorta trapped, and don't believe in their futures, and they don't believe in their own potential, that meth puts them in a head space that they wouldn't experience otherwise.

For Liz, it's about, I mean it's obviously deluded, but it's about the possibility of what she could actually achieve and what could happen; what the world could be if she makes it so. Because then it's not a question of- as an actor - how do I play when I'm high and what tics and what physical attributes or what sort of actorly bullshit can I do to pull this off. It's about what this drug provides for someone, for their heart and their feelings. and what they want for their own life, which is much more interesting to play.

R: You've written these great, sort of like little fractured scenelets, when everybody is really starting to roll and buzz, and they jump so quickly from this thing to the next thing, and the impulse follow-through deteriorates upon using the drug makes a lot of sense, because what you've also scripted is people who have a lot of focus and a lot of drive, and active will to do something, but that something keeps changing, like this fly that keeps buzzing around them, that as soon as they get it, it turns into something else.

Brendan Spieth, Laura Ramadei and Robbie Collier Sublett
 That's kind of the fun thing to go after as an actor is to locate the thing that we're doing right now. It may be something totally different from what we were saying we were going to do five seconds ago, and what we do five seconds from now is going to be totally different from that. You don't have to actually think about drug behavior, you just think about how these are people who like to feel they can actually get things done in their life because they can't.

L: And they want to feel like they can. And I think this is more universal outside of Meth, but a drug experience is that when the inhibitions go, so do barriers between people. Like the ability to reach across a room and connect with someone is much more powerful when you're high because the fear and the rules about how you should behave as a human sort of melt away, which has a really interesting dynamic in act two that's really fun and natural to play, but I think what is interesting too about Liz and Conner's relationship is how it's been deepened by their experience with the drugs. I think they've found a depth to their relationship that I think is not always accessible when they're not high.

R: They're the most honest with each other when they're high because they're able to speak most candidly. I mean, that's when he apologized to Liz for the way he was treating her.

L: He is also apologizing for things that happened as a result of drug use.

R: Right, he's candid about the baby - we should leave the baby behind - I mean that's the real fifth character in the play, even though it has no lines. I mean, when we added the sound of the baby, and brought that element to play, it totally transformed how you get into it, and Laura, you said this before in rehearsal, 'I don't get it, I don't get it...'

L: Yeah, I kept struggling to get out the door and I even thought the baby was an obstacle, that the baby was the reason that she can't get to the end of the play, because she's a mother. There's something genius about adding sound cues and putting the baby in the baby carrier.

There's a moment offstage when I can't get it to stop crying, and it's like a peripheral sound cue, but I go offstage and listen to it and the sound cue is structured in such a way that it stops crying and then starts again, so I have this great opportunity to be like 'ohhhh, I got it. Ah, fuck.' which is totally like what dealing with the baby is - you're always trying to get it to stop and chill...(she laughs) oh babies.... so when we added that sound cue and started working with a very live prop, it became real for me in the playing of it.

The baby is actually the thing that drives her out the door. It's actually her failure to engage with that thing, and her sort of self-loathing in not being able to, and she just knows that she's a bad mother. That became real once there was that baby sound. I was like, 'oh my god, it's not because she's a mother. It's that she's a bad one, and she knows it, and she hates herself for it, and she can't actually interact with this thing and she can't be charming to it.'

M: You've had a lot of different responses about Liz. How has that been?

L: It's been tough. I've had a lot of conversations about it after the show and I try not to get to into it with them because I don't want it to impact what I'm doing, but I think the first conversation that I had that stuck out was when you and I were talking about Lesser America producing the show, and you said something about playing Liz and what did that challenge look like to me, that she's not that likeable, and she's done some things, and I hadn't really thought about that. I just kind of got who she was without having to be inside of it. It made sense to me because the character was still at a distance, but then getting inside of it was sort of like making an ill-fitting suit be my skin.

There was a little bit of adjusting and struggles with myself to justify it - my fear was that people wouldn't buy it, or that they would just write off the character as malicious and horrible, and that was sort of the risk to me because I get her, and I like her, and I don't think her actions are good or right, but I've been close to things as despicable as anything she does and I get it, and I want people to, too.

A lot of people, especially women, are 'you're doing a great job because I hate her, because she's horrible and I hate her and that means you're doing it right' and I'm like, 'oh, ok uh thank you' but there are other people who - like I had a conversation with my friend Emma last night who was like ' yeah, she does some fucked up stuff, but the thing about the character is that she's actually so buoyant and endearing. She's always driving the train in a way that you totally understand why she can't make certain decisions in the play. She can't be bound to certain things, like she just operates on a level that doesn't cooperate with some life choices some people make' and so I appreciate that.

M: Do you think she's held at a different standard than Conner is? That the expectations are different?


L: I think the assumption that this play challenges is that the maternal instinct is all powerful. There a lot of beautiful stories in the real world and fiction, or on stage or film about women finding themselves when they have their child, or the baby evolving someone because they rise to the occasion of having someone else that they're responsible for, but I don't think that's real or true. I think that humans are a complicated, ugly, little species who can defy principle or instincts like that, and I do think there there's a judgement on Liz because she's a woman.


R: and also the interesting thing is that, as a person, she understands her limitations. She understands what she is and is not capable of, and at this moment in her life, she's not capable of being a mom. Here's the thing, you can argue that it's a really terrible thing that she does in the end, and I guess to some extent it is, but the flipside is if she sticks around against what is maybe her own flawed better judgment at that time and tries to raise that kid in the situation that she's in with the limitations that she has, that kid's life is going to be infinitesimally worse

L: Yeah

R: Because she doesn't want to be there and I think people don't - I mean culturally people are like 'how could you do that?!' I was just reading this New Yorker article about how America, in particular, is such a child-centric culture, so it doesn't surprise me that we are having these conversations, and that people are having these responses like that, but in other countries the kids are important but they don't run the show.

L: Or they exist inside the community in a different way than in the nuclear family structure.

M: The funny thing is that if this is a kid-centric culture or we think of ourselves that way, where are the social systems to support families and to support children?

R: Yeah

M: I mean out of all the industrialized countries, we have the least.

R: Yeah. I feel like you could argue her decision in the play, even though the option is to leave it with an equally ill-equipped parent in Conner, at least she knows and sees in him a person who is trying to better himself, who is trying to leave behind this part of himself that was not helping and was dysfunctional, and in some ways - I don't think he knows it at the time, but Johnny kind of illuminates that at the end of the play - in some ways, it could be a weird blessing for Conner because the thing that he wants to be his new love is his sobriety. I mean that's the-

L: new relationship he's trying to foster.

R: That's the new love he's trying to woo. He's trying to woo his sobriety, and in the closing moments of the play he's totally devastated, but here's this really real thing, this living, breathing, crying, pooping thing that really needs him, and I'm not sure he totally can do it, but I think he can. This is his path and whether that is shitty of her, or a blessing for him, or some kind of amalgam of all those things, he realizes that his sobriety and his love for her cannot coexist, and I think that's what he discovers over the course of the play. There's a lot of self-loathing there, but he's finally piecing together that those things can't co-exist in the same place, or in the same time.

American River, produced by Lesser America, directed by Stephen Brackett runs Thursday - Sunday July 22nd at Theater for the New City. For more information, or to get tix, put it here.

Photo Credit: Melissa Gomez

Sunday, July 15, 2012

Bekah Brunstetter on Miss Lilly Gets Boned - Part of the New Ohio Ice Factory Festival

 "It is so important when you first start writing to write from a place where you feel awesome, safe, and loved, so that you can really approach honesty and chaos in your work."
-Bekah Brunstetter
Playwright

 What was the inspiration for Miss Lilly Gets Boned?

'Bout 5 years ago, a  friend sent me an article from the New York Times Magazine about the recent violent actions of elephants. The elephants and their behavior felt so human to me. Also, I’d been thinking a lot about goodness, and how much of it is ingrained of us. I was raised in a Christian home, so I’m constantly thinking about. I shoved all of these things together into the play!

What was its development?

It’s had quite the journey. It’s had some great readings at the Aurora Theater in Berkeley, The Babel Theater Project, Flux,  the Lark Playwright’s week in New York, a production in Summer 2011 at the Finborough in London, and was recently translated into Russian in a workshop in Moscow.

What is your writing schedule like?

It definitely depends on if I’m writing a first draft, or re-writing. If it’s a first draft, I need to kind of let go of the rational side of brain, and go a little nuts. This usually happens at night, with wine. If it’s a rewrite, I need daylight and structure. Either way, I’m usually listening to a song or songs that feel like the play to me, over and over.

What kind of development process best serves the way you like to work?

I like to have a cold read of a  brand new script, and then I can instantly sense some (usually small ) small things that aren’t working. Then, in a perfect world, I have a week long-ish workshop where during the day, the actors do scene work, we hang out and talk, and I get to rewrite that afternoon / evening and have new pages the next day! When it comes to development, I really love to work with my buddies – people who know my voice, but still ask the tough questions.

Is where you're at today where you pictured yourself to be at, at this point in time, at some point in time or never?

WELL, at the ripe age of 21, I remember I told myself that I’d win the Pulitzer Prize for Drama by the time I was 30, which just happened. 30. Not the Pulitzer. But I’m so happy, at least for now, to call playwriting my actual job. That, in itself, is baffling, and I pinch myself everyday until I’m forced to go back to renting corporate apartments. I feel very lucky!

Did you always want to be a playwright? How did you come to being in the theater?

I’ve always written since I was very young – started doing theater in high school to get out of my shell, if you will – wrote my first play in college when I realized what a bad actor I was, and was instantly hooked.

Bacon on cookies?

Yes, please.

How do you balance working on various projects at once and life things?

Logistically, I call it singing in rounds with myself. While I’ll have 5-6 things up in the air at one point in time, I’m only working on one thing per day, or week – I’ll get through a draft of something, then move onto the next thing, while keeping the previous thing in the back of my mind. Emotionally,  No matter what I’m doing, I never feel like I’m doing enough, so I’ve just had to embrace the fact that I’m really hard on myself.

What is (or is there) a question no one ever asks you but you wish they did?

I think it’s possibly this question. This is a great question.

And the answer to that question?

Damnit!

What's coming up?

I’ve got productions coming up in 13/14 with the Roundabout and Naked Angels. Also, if you are West Coasty, check out Be a Good Little Widow at the Old Globe Spring ’13!

Any advice you'd give new playwrights, theater artists etc?

Keep writing, and stay confident to do so. Surround yourself with people who love what you write, and trick yourself, for the time being, into believing that you’re the only playwright in the world. It is so important when you first start writing to write from a place where you feel awesome, safe, and loved, so that you can really approach honesty and chaos in your work.

Anything you'd like to add?

I ate an entire bag of microwave popcorn while answering these questions.


Miss Lilly Gets Boned, written by Bekah Brunstetter is a NY Premiere produced by Studio 42 and directed by David F. Chapman. It runs from August 18th - 21st, part of the ongoing New Ohio's Ice Factory Festival.

Tuesday, July 10, 2012

This is the End of the World As We Know It (or is it?) John Clancy on The Apocalyptic Road Show coming to the Ice Factory


"...It’s like we’re quietly waiting for the end. No celebration from the evangelists. A ‘just you wait’ kind of dread..."
-John Clancy
Writer and Producer

What was the inspiration for the Apocalyptic Road Show?

It came out of a desire to work with Pete Clerke and Catherine Gillard of The Occasional Cabaret. Nancy (Walsh) and I had been to Edinburgh several times and they had seen our shows and got to know us. We saw a couple of their shows and got to know them and their work. In 2010, they applied to Creative Scotland for a workshop for the four of us and the musician, Tim Brinkhurst, (co-creator) to sit down and work.

What kinds of things were you thinking about?

At that point, we were just thinking about end of the world stuff. Thirty-five minutes of songs, scenes and monologues, and that went well so we reapplied for a full ride, full production and were accepted. They gave us a month in a rehearsal room plus a tour of Scotland. When we showed up in September, we had dates booked without a single word written.

So what are some of the themes of the Road Show?


The whole point of the cabaret is the right now, the gestalt of the world in this moment. We were all fascinated by the confluence of apocalyptic visions, the Mayans, the televangelist guy in L.A. who was predicting the end of the world,  Fukuyama book – a sense in our country, and over there as well, that the time of Western dominance is over. The world is fading. That things are ending.

 For me as a writer, I was thinking why are we almost comforted by this? It’s like we’re quietly waiting for the end. No celebration from the evangelists. A ‘just you wait’ kind of dread. It’s like a cultural cop-out. Nothing we can do, so just keep on keepin’ on, like it’s too late. Same thing from the left. Some scientists even say it’s too late. We should have stopped fifteen years ago. But, wait a minute. That’s not us. That’s not our species. It’s weird.

But saying all this, The Apocalyptic Road Show is a funny show. It’s comic. We share the same esthetic. Thought provoking but if it’s not fun then why do it?

How do you collaborate?

We were opening in Glasgow so we were like we better get a show going. I hate to be unprepared or be sloppy. What I insist on for myself, and try to insist on in my collaborators is let’s keep a long conversation going. Let’s keep talking. Just so we all know that we’re focusing on the same set of things, like in this case, we were focusing on apocalyptic visions, the Christian apocalypse, but then we let that go because we thought that was less interesting.

But if you get a bunch of artists in a room and you’re clear on the topic, that pressure eliminates a lot of waste of time and indulgence. Nobody ever said, ‘that doesn’t really work’. But if you’re always thinking people are spending money on this and people are coming to spend an hour or so to see it, it gives it a mode of practicality. We were actually living together and the rehearsal space was down the road. We’d work eight hours a day, come home and make dinner, Catherine and Nancy would run lines, Peter and I would talk in the next room about the show. It was all we did. It was gorgeous.

I always talk about the independent theater scene of the 90’s. We operated like a bunch of feral children. It’s always about necessity. You work all day at your day job, you book the theater five months in advance, and you know you have a show but you don’t have much resource-wise. In Scotland, we didn’t have much, but they paid well and we knew we’d be on the road so you put all your energy in the language and performances

What else you working on?

I’m putting out, with Martin Dentin a lab, or curriculum of new theater called Indie Theater 101. It’s a history of New York independent theater from 1997 to 2006 incomplete, ten plays, one from each year. I went back and read the intros to all the plays from back then (the 60’s) Maria Irene Fornes, Sam Shepard – they were writing for the space, audiences that were moving quickly, bored…and that hasn’t really changed. It makes a style of work that is fast. That doesn’t take itself that seriously but is able to make some strong points.

When is it coming out?

Sometime around the fall. The idea is that it would be online – a 12 week course and lab class - if it’s New York based, eight of the ten playwrights are in the New York area so the playwright can come by and you can directly talk to them. It’s an emmediate experience.

 
You can experience The Apocalyptic Road Show With Your Hosts Gdjet and Lulu, July 25th  through the 28th as part of the Obie Award-winning Ice Factory Festival at the New Ohio Theatre, 154 Christopher Street.