L to R (top to bottom): Craig Irvin, Thomas Glass, Kelly Kaduce, Kearstin Piper Brown, Max Walls, Adrienne Ocfemia, Kevin Deas, Aubrey Allicock, Victor Ryan Robertson, Andrew Gilstrap, Malcolm Mackenzie, Kameron Lopreore, Eva Lukkonen, Gabrielle Bennett and more.
The Alliance Theatre and Atlanta Opera will join forces to bring audiences the East Coast premiere of The Shining, an acclaimed new opera based on Stephen King’s 1977 bestselling novel.
Performed at the Alliance Theatre at The Woodruff Arts Center, this co-presentation is the mainstage season opener for both companies.
The Shining, by composer Paul Moravec and librettist Mark Campbell, is about a family that falls under the evil influence of the sinister Overlook Hotel and its array of ghosts. Directed by Brian Staufenbiel, a specialist in multimedia, immersive and interdisciplinary productions, The Shining has been called “the scariest opera you may ever experience” (TwinCities.com).
With 11 performances and two casts sharing the main roles, The Shining features Craig Irvin and Thomas Glass in the role of Jack Torrance with Kelly Kaduce and Kearstin Piper Brown as Wendy Torrance, and Kevin Deas and Aubrey Allicock playing Dick Hallorann.
“Beyond the pop culture notoriety and the supernatural elements, The Shining, in the original novel and in our upcoming opera, reveals an all-too-common aspect of the human condition,” says Tomer Zvulun, Atlanta Opera’s Carl W. Knobloch General & Artistic Director. “A timeless dilemma, many people, all around us, face the demons of loneliness, frustration, and substance abuse. Stephen King thrills us with his masterful storytelling and we are excited to offer you this work by a brilliant creative team led by director Brian Staufenbiel.”
The opera will be performed in English with English supertitles. This production of The Shining was co-produced by Opera Parallèle, Hawai’i Opera Theatre, and Portland Opera.
Find more information about The Shining here.
Afsaneh Aayani is an Iranian/American multidisciplinary artist. She graduated with her MFA in Scenic design from UH in 2020 and her BFA from Art University Of Tehran in 2010. She has created work around the United States, Iran, China, Poland, Sri Lanka, and Germany. She has received multiple national/international awards for design, puppeteering, puppet-making, and directing. To learn more about her work you can visit www.afsanehaayani.com
Tell us about yourself and your journey to becoming a costume designer?
From the time I was five or six, I was already surrounded by fabric and patterns. Both my mom and my aunt were tailors, and my aunt even used to tell me I would grow up to be a fashion designer. Although my bachelors was in puppetry and my masters was in scenic design, I have always had a special place in my heart for costume design. Even as a puppeteer, I need to make the puppet costumes so it has been and continues to be an inseparable part of what I do as an artist.
How has it been to work on a story so close to your own lived experience? How has that informed your design process?
I’ve honestly really been enjoying the process. I was in Iran in 2008, so it’s not just doing online research or finding photos of random people, but also going back through pictures of myself, my family, and my friends. It’s been a really nostalgic experience that has also resulted in an authentic design for the show. In fact, one of the characters is styled similarly to my mom — you can see a bit of her in the final production on stage. Generally, all of the costumes you will see are reminiscent of the people I was surrounded by at that time in my life. To me these aren’t just fictional characters, these are people I know and have lived with.
What has been your creative process to design the costumes for this show? How did the personalities of the characters inform your costume designs for them?
One thing that I think will make this production special is the backstories we developed for each character. We had multiple meetings not just with the director but with the whole design team to come to a more profound understanding of who these people really were. This helped all of the designers to develop a common and deep understanding of each character. In the context of costume design, you’ll see this play out in all kinds of details—things like the length of the manto that each character wears, the type of headscarf they have, or the colors they wear. Each detail is intimately tied to the backstory of the character and the world we are trying to create.
You are traveling to Iran to source materials for your design of the show — why is it important for you to make this journey?
It is quite fortunate that this show coincides with the first time I’ve been able to visit my home in a long time. This is an incredible opportunity to bring the actual headwear that we would wear at school or the outfits that women would really wear. It is difficult, or in some cases impossible, to source the authentic material here in the US or to find it online. Since we are telling a story that is so personal and so real, I feel it is important to do this story justice, and to picture these people as they would have been in Iran in 2008. Also, it is important for the audience to understand that a woman’s outfit in Iran is a political statement. I would guess that for most of the audience when they wake up in the morning and choose their outfit, the political implication is probably not one of the major factors that helps them decide. For Iranian women, the clothes are a major part of the culture as well as personal identity so putting those clothes on stage as they were is special to me.
Is there one thing—a special detail or exciting nuance—that you are hoping audiences will notice in your design?
As the show progresses, the colors, patterns, and styles change with each of the characters as we unravel their story, their truth. I hope the audience notices or at least can feel this transformation for each of the characters and can enjoy the story within the story we are trying to tell.
Ashley Elliott sat down with Director Shadi Ghaheri about her Alliance Theatre directorial debut, English.
Shadi Ghaheri first encountered English as an audience member.
“It was the first time the show was being publicly produced,” she says of Atlantic Theater’s 2022 production. “I was just [an] audience member at that point … and I was with the story nonstop — there wasn’t a moment that they didn’t have me. And it was lovely to see this story that [understands] me. That’s the magic — the language feels like home.” She says watching it for the first time made her feel like her “heart and soul were being heard.”
Shadi was born and raised in Tehran, which is about forty minutes away from Karaj, where the play takes place. She spoke Farsi for the first twenty-three years of her life and got her bachelor’s degree in that language before diving into the English language and becoming intimately familiar with the TOEFL (Test of English as a Foreign Language), the test prominently featured in English.
She says that her parents often tell a story of when they briefly lived in America while her father was on sabbatical and they sent her to a playground nearby to play. After a while, they saw her conversing with American children and were confused. She didn’t know any English; how was she speaking with the children? They soon realized that she was just speaking gibberish — making up a language that the kids responded to.
Although Shadi learned English easily during her family’s time in America, she points out that it was still hard to learn English and continues to work with others when she works on her own bilingual art. “I collaborate with a lot of writers and dramaturgs because it just really doesn’t come easily to me to write [in English], which is obvious because we think in our own original language. You translate it in your head to another language, and you have to come down to your fingers and spell it out, and this process just kills the creation in a really bad way.”
She also learned English through watching international films and TV shows where the characters spoke the language, such as Friends. Even then, it was difficult to get a solid grasp of the English language since there are sounds not present in Farsi. (She describes language as being “in your body. We don’t have [the sound] “th,” so the placement of the tongue is just alien to us. … Things like this [are] so scientific and it’s just, like, you have to develop a palate in your mouth for it, and for people to do that later in life is just kind of impossible.”)
“So much is lost [in translation],” Shadi says. “All the time that we are talking in another language, we simultaneously are two different people, and some of our [meanings] will come with the language and so much will not. There’s a line in the play … Roya says to Elham, ‘You are very smart, Elham, but you’re very rude. In Farsi, you balance yourself out, but wherever you land, you’re going to have quite a hard time adjusting because in English you won’t have redeeming qualities.’”
Despite this, Shadi says that speaking English gives her a confidence and a freedom that she doesn’t find in Farsi. “When I came here, everyone found me funny and laughed at me. … That’s just what happens in translation. I don’t need to be the thing that is expected of me in Farsi, because [English] is new and nobody knows me in [English]. … I think the beauty and simplicity of this play, English, is that you find it funny that it’s so challenging for [the characters] to deal with learning a new language. And deeply, they’re frustrated, for different reasons. Elham is frustrated because she has always been the smart person — the person who is studying medicine in Iran. … And then you have Omid, who can easily access English but doesn’t feel comfortable or happy in it.”
Although this play has its funny moments, audiences may not define it as a comedy. There is a constant undercurrent of pain in this story of people striving to learn a new identity while simultaneously ridding themselves of the old one. It is raw and grips your heart in ways you don’t completely understand.
“I think that is the beauty of this play and, like, what a badass writer Sanaz [Toossi] is that her play does that, right?” Shadi says, glowing with pride for the playwright who has been her friend for years. “That someone who doesn’t know that world — you can read it and feel like you’re laughing but you can sense that there’s something underneath. And you wonder, ‘I don’t know where to put this feeling. I need to go home?’ I think there are moments [in this play] where your heart just gasps. And you’re like, ‘Why? Why am I feeling this way? It’s a simple story in a classroom!’ But it’s not. It’s about belonging. It’s about identity. And it’s about something deep in us that language is unable to name it.”
Although the story is about five specific Iranian people with a very specific need to learn English, it’s still relatable for audience members and actors alike. Shadi says that all the actors who auditioned for the play talked about how much it touched them, regardless of how long they had lived in America or whether they grew up speaking Farsi or not. “Every one of them who read the play connected somewhere deep in this struggle of ‘Who am I? Who am I with this language and who could I have been with the other language?’”
Shadi goes on to say that, while the story doesn’t unfold much about the politics of 2008 or the Green Movement that would happen a few months after the play takes place, it unintentionally foreshadows the revolutionary voice of women, men, and the LGBTQ community in the current Woman, Life, Freedom movement-revolution in Iran. She takes any opportunity to bring attention to the oppression, imprisoning, and killing of freedom fighters in Iran in the current time.
She says that she feels responsible to point out that Iran is still one of the top countries with the highest rate of immigration in young educated immigrants admissions, and that the number of Iranian students in the best Ivy League schools around the world is exemplary. “The high number of young immigrants from Iran is not accidental; there’s a reason for that which I ask all of us to pay attention to!”
“We are so privileged to have an amazing piece like English and the Alliance to invite us to come. And right now we have five Iranian-American actors; we have three Iranian designers; we have a dramaturg and a dialogue coach and a cultural consultant that are all Iranian women. … It’s like a vision came true, like an example of, if you share the space and tell stories — stories that are being hidden and buried, just choked down for generations — can be heard and, hopefully, through that, we can have a safer world for everyone, especially women and the queer community.”
Shadi wishes that anyone who experiences this play will see traces of why the Woman, Life, Freedom movement is a necessity today. Although the play isn’t about that, Shadi hopes that audiences will look at the story and realize that they are just looking at people just like them. “A group of humans,” she says, “with desires and dreams of something better.” Just like how Shadi initially encountered the play as an audience member, she wants the Alliance’s audiences to take away a similar feeling that she felt – that sense of magic and catharsis.
“My biggest hope is that the audience member who comes,” she continues, “can get lost and forget for a second that they are in a theater space. And they could feel something somewhere in their body that they have not allowed themselves to feel for a long time. … For a moment, you laugh so hard or, for a moment, burst into tears unexpectedly, not knowing where it’s coming from. And you find an understanding and sympathy with another human being that you just didn’t have access to before. That’s really my hope.”
English runs on the Hertz Stage from August 16 – September 17, 2023.
The Reiser Atlanta Artists Lab creates space and opportunity to uplift the voices of Atlanta’s artists. With the support of the Alliance Theatre, these artists are able to model their visions into reality. Encompassing a variety of theater disciplines, three projects are chosen to represent the communities that call Atlanta home.
Read more about the Reiser Atlanta Lab Round 9 projects and their lead artists below.
Note: These interviews have been edited for length and clarity. Be advised this article contains some instances of explicit language.
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Anterior Leverett |
Ipek Eginli |
Justen Ross |
Sweet Clay Lands: Jamie is an award-winning farmer planning to start a new season on his sugarcane farm in Louisiana. Unfortunately, he and other Black farmers confront unrelenting challenges as they are blocked from vital funding. It is up to Jamie to fight for his family’s land before the bank snatches it and puts it on the auction block.
Lead Artist: Anterior Leverett, Playwright
Other Reiser Lab Artists: Damian Lockhart and Jasmine Waters
Hold on to Your Names— An Artistic Exploration of Immigrant Women’s Stories: This multidisciplinary art project—featuring artists from Turkey, Iran, and Colombia—empowers immigrant women to embrace their names and share their stories of living in a foreign country, ultimately promoting greater understanding and appreciation of their unique challenges and cultural identities.
Lead Artist: Ipek Eginli, Sound Artist
Other Reiser Lab Artists: Sara Ghazi Asadollahi and Juana Farfán
Rome & Juice: This Shakespearian classic gets a flamboyant New York Ballroom-inspired spin. Rome Montague falls in love with Fem Queen performance extraordinaire Juice Capulet during the hottest ball season of the year. Can their true love be the bridge between an age-old vendetta? Or will the pressure of the world and their houses’ disapproval be their downfall?
Lead Artist: Justen Ross, Playwright/Composer/Actor
Other Reiser Lab Artists: N’yomi Stewart aka Omi Juicy Balenciaga and Jade Maia Lambert
What is your inspiration for creating this piece, and why should it be done now?
Anterior: A few years ago, right before the pandemic, I was listening to the 1619 project podcast, and there was an episode that was following a Black farm family and their experience with trying to maintain hold of their farmland. I emailed this family and saw how often this happened. In just the research, it was so fascinating how prevalent this issue has been for Black farmers and Black landowners—their land is being threatened, they’re not getting the same subsidies from the government or the same loan amounts in the USDA, and these black farmers are fighting back alongside politicians and Grassroots organizations. I’m somebody who’s great-grandparents owned a farm. I’ve been in the South my entire life. I know people with farmland, and I never realized how prevalent the threat was for Black farmers, so that’s been the huge inspiration behind the work.
Ipek: My inspiration for creating this piece stems from my personal experience of having both a common and unique name and the profound impact it has had on my identity and art. Growing up in both Turkey and the United States has shaped who I am, and my name, Ipek, meaning “silk” in Turkish, has always served as a powerful symbol of my journey. Sharing my name in social interactions evokes a range of reactions, from curiosity to frustration, and it has made me reflect on the significance of names in shaping our identities. I wanted to explore the stories of other women and their experiences with their common and unique names, as it is a topic that resonates deeply with me. It is essential to bring attention to this now, as it prompts us to question whether we are holding onto our names and identities or gradually letting them slip away.
Justen: After graduating, it becomes daunting doing auditions and self-tapes as an actor. You feel like you’re off the beaten path. It was difficult for casting directors to cast me or find a type for me. Then, I decided I’m going to write something I would want to see! In 2012, I was brought into ballroom culture by my other artist Naomi Stewart. I pitched this crazy idea to her: What if ballroom met Romeo and Juliet? She loved the rap I wrote for Romeo if he saw Juliet. When the Reiser Lab came around, I had been working on my one-man show at the time. Then, I remembered Ava DuVernay’s quote “If your dream only includes you, it’s too small.” I just leaned into getting Rome and Juice done. This is a love letter saying thank you, femme queen, for introducing me to a world that has given me a confidence and community that I wouldn’t have had otherwise.
Why are New Works important?
Anterior: New Works are important because new voices are important. Without new works, without new voices, we have the same stagnant theater. It’s always important to provide perspectives as the world is ever-changing. It’s so important to have those new stories and to create space. That’s what I hope to do in the future. That’s what I hope to do with my work—to create space and opportunity. Without new works, there is no opportunity in theater, and there is no way for a young Black girl in the South who wants to be a writer to break in without these things. It’s so important to have these opportunities and it’s so important to really invest in new works and new artists.
Ipek: While we may idolize renowned artists and their best works, we might be forgetting how they got to that point. It is crucial to recognize that art is a continual process. The plays, compositions, and paintings that we admire are only fragments of the larger creative journey. By engaging in the creation of new works, artists embrace the transformative power of exploration, pushing boundaries, and embracing personal and artistic growth. These endeavors also foster collaboration, providing opportunities for artists to inspire and be inspired by one another, ultimately fueling innovation and evolution within the artistic community.
Justen: New narratives are important because theatergoers start to see a perception of the world when they’re fed the same narrative, the same theme, and the same story structure. When we open it up for new narratives, new stories, new people, and new story structures, it helps people break out of these ideas of love, death, rejection, and amusement. People need to see newer ways of living. It’s almost like I’m being held accountable to flesh out what it is I want to say to the world, what worlds I want to build, and what’s at the heart of what I really want to say. I get to break the ceiling of artistry that I’m usually just a performer in. It is important to feel like I am giving space for the people that I love—the Black, queer people, trans people, non-binary people, and the girls. I want to give space for the people that don’t always get the spotlight.
What is your creative process like?
Anterior: Music is a huge creative influence for me. So anytime I’m thinking of an idea or story that I might want to flesh out, I make a playlist for it. That’s how I start—with the music of the environment. Then, I really start thinking about the people who create this world. I write up their stories, who they are, and what they mean to each other. It’s really understanding the environment because I like to make the setting as much as the character as the people. Then, I really flesh out who those characters are, front and back, what they mean to each other, and what they need. Then, I started writing the play. There are a lot of other things that happen before the play gets written, but I really want to understand these people, how they fit into this world, and what they mean to this world.
Ipek: As a sound artist, my creative process revolves around the art of listening. I approach listening with intention, attentively absorbing the sounds of the world around me—the intricate symphony of people, animals, machines, nature, and even noise. By immersing myself in this sonic tapestry, I seek to understand the structure and essence of these sounds, drawing inspiration from their unique qualities.
During my improvisation, I listen closely to the sounds I am creating and reacting to in the moment. This allows me to engage in a dynamic dialogue with the unfolding soundscape, embracing the spontaneity and freedom of the present moment. In addition to external sounds, I also listen to my own inner world, using it as a compass to guide my creative choices. By quieting the outside noise and turning inward, I tap into my deepest emotions, thoughts, and imaginations, allowing them to shape and inform my compositions and improvisations. Through this intentional and immersive listening process, I incorporate multiple acoustic instruments with traditional and extended techniques, as well as electronics.
Justen: I wear a lot of hats. I’m an actor, singer, dancer/voguer, teacher, playwright, rapper, and commentator. When I’m intentionally creating, it usually looks like going into hermit mode. I need everybody to step the fuck back for like 10 minutes or days. The fireflies of inspiration come and when it lights up, I need everyone to step away so I can catch it and expand upon it, live in it, and breathe in it. Sometimes it’ll come in movement, the form of a song, or as a character’s motivation. Soon it’s going to look like collaborating and bringing people in and asking questions. We’re utilizing my director’s process, Jade Lambert-Smith, and her acting method of LAMOA, Living Authentically Method of Artistry. She has steps for setting your intentions of what you want to accomplish today, declaring who it is you are and how you are going to get to that intention, making discoveries, connecting things, and asking questions. So if I am struggling with something, I’ll just go back to something that I wrote last week and try to connect to something new. Right now, through the Reiser program, I am learning more about what the process looks like as I juggle all of these things.
How has Atlanta nurtured your development as an artist?
Anterior: I went to Kennesaw State University and started as a biology major. I loved theater growing up in South Georgia, so I took a class, decided to double major, and then I decided to stick with theater. The environment and collection of professors that I had have been so important to me and to the development of my work. Margaret Baldwin, my mentor, is one of my favorite people. She’s been such a guiding figure in helping me develop and figure out who I am as an artist. I’ve also had the opportunity to work with Addae Moon at the Atlanta History Center, work as a co-app writer at Horizon, and work alongside Hush Harbor Lab. This past year, I’ve come out of my shell with the Synchronicity Stripped Bare Incubator. I’ve been loved on and given the support that I needed to develop a show. I’ve been able to take in so much information from artists who’ve been doing this for a while. It has been fantastic and keeping up those relationships and they have been really pivotal to my development here in Atlanta.
Ipek: Atlanta has been instrumental in my artistic development since 2009, becoming a wellspring of inspiration. The city’s natural beauty—with its majestic trees, lush vegetation, and diverse wildlife—grounds me and connects me to the wonders of the natural world. Atlanta’s rich diversity has profoundly influenced my journey, as I’ve had the privilege of meeting people from various backgrounds who call this city home. Their stories and experiences have enriched my artistry. The passion of Atlanta’s artists energizes me, reminding me that this is a place where art can truly thrive. With its vibrant arts scene and diverse opportunities, Atlanta nurtures artistic growth and provides a supportive community. I am grateful to call Atlanta my artistic home.
Justen: So abundantly. As a kid, I got most of my start with theater at the Southwest Arts Center. They had a summer camp called the Teen Artist Academy, and when younger I did the little kid’s camp. I also did the Freddy Henderick Youth Ensemble of Atlanta. I was never just acting: we were devising. It comes from directors saying, “Okay, you’re going to write this show” and that came with acting words, doing sung poems, rapping, singing, and dancing-some element of music. I can’t imagine being a part of something, creating something to give to people that doesn’t involve music. It’s just a super powerful tool and a song can change people in a way that words can’t. Growing up in Atlanta has shown me to use whatever tools we have to tell a story. When I went to Chicago for college, people were gagging at me because I wasn’t there to just act. I was there to build worlds, and it was a beautiful experience to see my peers receive that energy that I brought along.
How does your identity impact your work?
Anterior: My work is very Black and very Southern. It is all up and through the work. I think there was a time when I was an undergrad when I tried to shy away from my Southern Roots. I did not want to connect with them, but as I’ve gotten older, I have to admit I’m a country girl through and through. The South, in particular, is musical in its language, rhythm, and beat. It is so important to be able to write stories that can showcase how beautiful the South is and how beautiful Black history is in the culture within the South. The crux of a lot of my work is highlighting the people who make up these neighborhoods and small towns and keep the community going.
Ipek: My identity is deeply intertwined with my work, as it reflects the diverse experiences and influences that have shaped me. Looking back, I see the profound impact of two nations and languages that have influenced my past. Moreover, my journey has been enriched by the multitude of schools of thought I encountered, the teachers who guided me, and the collaborations I’ve had along the way. All these stepping stones have brought me to where I am today, and they continue to shape my artistic expression.
In my work, you can hear the echoes of various genres and diverse influences. These serve as the foundation upon which I build, allowing me to explore and push the boundaries of my creative expression. My identity acts as a filter, infusing my art with a unique perspective that is influenced by my cultural heritage, personal experiences, and the voices that have resonated with me throughout my journey.
Justen: Nowadays I’ve been thinking about my identity not only as who I am and how I racially or sexually identify, but also for what I stand for—my values. My values are deep in community, deep in ambition, deep in spirituality or faith in something, even if it is just you. Most of my work is about exposing people to the divinity of queerness and the divine experience that it is to be Black and queer Black, Black and trans, and the resiliency of it and the community in the fellowship found in it. That’s so intrinsic to who I am, so the theater that I do must do that. Storytelling is a vehicle, it really changes lives. If I’m not using my voice and using the things that I’ve been through, the struggles, and my wisdom to produce something better and make way for more people who have had the same struggles.
Who or what motivates you to make art?
Anterior: I make art for myself and the women in my life who would have wanted artistic careers, like my mother and my grandmother. When I have these conversations with them, they had plans for what they wanted for their lives, but got married and were told it’s not realistic. I see how much pride they have when they see what I’m doing or when I’m telling them about my work. I do it for folks who were told they’re not good enough. When I was growing up, we had a theater class for one year of high school and then it was taken away. I do it for people who don’t get the opportunity and don’t see themselves in these spaces. I do it for people who need to see Black life as just life, not just life with strife, oppression, or strictly burdened by White Supremacy. I want to highlight Black folks persevering and having a good time.
Ipek: Although I have an internal drive that will always lead me to the moments of creation, my biggest motivation is my 7-year-old daughter who embodies everything a true artist would have with ongoing curiosity, constant desire for play and discovery, and limitless energy. I feel like she is one of my teachers in life.
Justen: My community. I enjoy specifically Black people, but even more Black queer people. I love to watch Black people having an experience of amusement. I love to make people laugh. It’s the first thing I ever did artistically with stand-up in third grade. I love just watching Black people laugh, watching them cry, watching them have a discovery, have a breakthrough through art. I just love it. There’s just nothing like it and that feeling. It’s almost like a chef when they cook you something, and they are watching you eat and experience it. Oftentimes as an actor, you don’t get to see it because you’re present on stage, but hopefully afterward someone comes up after the play and says “This is what this did for me, this is what I received.”
What is one thing you hope people will take away from your work?
Anterior: I hope to lend voice to the plight of these farmers. I hope that this gets Black farmers interested in theater and understanding how theater, and art, could possibly be a way to help them as they continue fighting for what they need and their rights. I also hope that this will allow for other people to understand what is going on right now—and what has been going on for a hundred-some-odd years to these farmers—and figure out how we as citizens can help them protect their land and protect what is rightfully theirs.
Ipek: Through the stories and experiences of immigrant women in our project “Hold On To Your Names”, we aim to shed light on the unique challenges they face and the strength and resilience they embody. I hope that people will gain a deeper understanding of the complexities and richness of immigrant experiences, and develop a greater empathy and respect for those who navigate the complexities of cultural integration. By showcasing the significance of names as symbols of cultural heritage and personal identity, I hope to inspire a sense of pride and celebration in one’s own name and heritage. Furthermore, I hope that our project encourages individuals to reflect on their own biases and prejudices, fostering a more inclusive and compassionate society. By sharing the voices of immigrant women and amplifying their narratives, we strive to create a platform for dialogue, understanding, and appreciation.
Justen: Joy. Black people deserve rest. Trans people deserve rest. Brown people deserve rest. And amusement. In my mind, I view this as a service. They deserve to be served and taken care of in a world that doesn’t take care of people’s well-being. Whenever someone comes into a space that I have curated, they feel taken care of. They realize how important it is to prioritize the feelings of others and yourself. I also want them to be confident and do that shit. I want them to come in and see something that I and the community I have been a part of, have put together. I hope it awakens people to dream and imagine deeper, ‘Well, damn, if they can imagine this crazy piece of fucking theater, what can I imagine for myself? What can I dream for myself? I could have never imagined something like this but this came from somebody’s heart and this can come from mine.” Take risks! Do that shit!
In ten words or less, why art?
Anterior: Why not art?
Ipek: Because it is life.
Justen: We must create a world that is hell-bent on destroying.
The Reiser Atlanta Artists Lab is sponsored by Margaret and Bob Reiser.
The final presentations for the Round 9 projects in the Reiser Atlanta Artists Lab will be presented in the Selig Family Black Box Theatre in Spring 2024.