This show should have been titled “If You Can You Prolly Should”.

Once again, I’m opening a show on Friday the 13th. Last time, 2 years ago, my show opened and closed the same day as the pandemic began. It was the first time I experienced zero post-show depression, there were bigger worries. The show was successful although few saw it. I thought, “Maybe shows aren’t necessary” and then Bill Haw asked “You wanna have a show?” and of course I said yes.

I find that having shows is sometimes the only thing that inspires me. I mean I always make work, but slowly between opportunities and more quickly as they draw near. For this show, “Last Resort”, I really wanted to scream about some current issues, but couldn’t manage to find my voice. Faced with the reality of life or death, making art seemed decadent.

A year and a half into the pandemic, I felt I could, again, steal the time from family and friends to produce a show. Making art is selfish. It takes hours, mostly solitary, playing games in your mind. It’s laborious and the memory of that labor vanishes upon completion. It’s my therapy.

This show is about longevity or lack thereof, about ideas that have stewed and epiphanies. It’s about artists being artists 24/7, always on duty, finding the studio to be the last resort.

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