Circuitry and Storytelling

Eric Gansworth’s Re-Creation Story
November 15, 8pm
Cast: Billy Merasty, Dylan Carusona, Joe Cross, Michelle St. John, Monique Mojica, Kim Rosen, Avia Bushyhead

By Tom Pearson

When an accomplished contemporary artist like Eric Gansworth, fluent in the languages of poetry, prose, and visual art, decides that his latest endeavor is a dramatic work, the results are rightfully pastiche, a post-modern amalgamation of his writing, painting, and performative aspects all woven into a complex tapestry. Or better yet, a circuit board of disparate, yet connecting impulses. Gansworth’s play, Re-Creation Story had its reading on November 15, 2008 at The Public Theater.

The subject matter immediately presents the playwright with a conundrum of sorts, how to render himself autobiographically as the title character of the work while recreating an actual event in his life where he endeavors to re-tell the Creation Story of Haudenosaunee. There’s a lot of “Re’s.” Then, there’s a consideration of cultural sensitivity and ownership which is most often addressed as an advance apology for all that the writer does not know, and with a heavy dose of the self-referential.

The company consisted of Billy Merasty reading the part of Eric Gansworth and supported by a cast of characters representing various ages and occupations as they relate to him, including: Dylan Carusona, Joe Cross, Michelle St. John, Monique Mojica, Kim Rosen, and Avia Bushyhead on stage directions. Additionally, slide projections behind the podium where Merasty speaks often support his postulations by incorporating Gansworth paintings. More frequently though, the slides layer an additional voice onto the narrative with written comments becoming a kind of two dimensional character that speaks sassily back to the character of Eric and the audience.

The fragmented narrative begins with an effort to tell the Creation Story of the Haudenosaunee and is quickly complicated by the enormity of the task and the self-realization on the author’s part that he is not a storyteller. A misstep, involving an inadvertent reply to an email list-serv, suddenly elicits a multitude of advice from the wider population and quickly shows us the complications of ownership and variation within the telling of this tale. Mojica’s elder adult female character advises, “Bring some tobacco with you and hope for the best.” An adult male, played by Cross, offers, “Apologize for every error you’re about to make. That’s the traditional way.”

But what starts as a story about the telling of a story suddenly becomes a story about family, community, loss, and a personal relationship between a mother and son. And while Gansworth’s voice is front and center, the textures of all the other voices buoy it along, and not just within the cast, but also through pop references and invocations of Joanne Shenandoah (singing the women’s shuffle song at the beginning of the reading), Laurie Anderson, and Tears for Fears.

Luckily, director Leigh Silverman is no stranger to autobiographical, meta-theatrical work. In fact, she revels in the challenge that they present. Her deft handling of the material is like that of a careful weaver, surveying the threads and beginning to pattern them in a way that brings about the larger effect. Or, again, maybe a technician soldering each piece within the circuitry, making sure the connections are ready to fire.

Re-Creation Story stands as an example of a work that deals with Native issues in the present tense, issues about preservation but also issues that center on readying tradition for the future, all filtered through the individual experience of the telling of the stories. Somehow, through the meeting of the author’s complex writing, the director’s careful touch, and a cast that brings a great deal of weight and experience to the reading, we feel the circuitry complete. We feel the energy and see the results, even if we don’t understand the mechanics involved or are unable to track just how we got there. That’s the magic of circuitry, and of theater at its most complex. And when the play finishes, no matter how circuitous the journey may have been, we do finally see the tapestry: simple, beautiful, interconnected, and complete.

* * *

The post-performance discussion following the reading of Re-Creation Story featured playwrights Eric Gansworth, Daniel David Moses, Edward Wemytewa, and director Leigh Silverman discussing issues in bringing oral tradition to the stage.

Re-creation Story Post-Show Discussion
Bringing Oral Tradition to the Stage
November 15, 2008
Moderator: Betsy Theobald Richards
Panel: Eric Gansworth, Daniel David Moses, Leigh Silverman, and Edward Wemytewa

Betsy Richards: (beginning was cut off) What are the differences in those things? How do you navigate that? How does the navigation of the oral history translate into the text? And what does it do to the oral history when it becomes text, for you?

Edward Wemytewa: There was a lot of friction early on for me when I was first starting, and I thought literally, it was going to get into the creation story. And I said, you know, that’s something that could really offend the Indigenous population, because that won’t be a sacred story. And so there was that friction early on, but as the story progressed, I realized that it became a very individual story. And so I guess the good thing about it was that there were people that were telling me, no, we can’t go there. And so the point is that if it was this approach that was going to ruin his life, ruin his connection to an old tradition, then in the way that the story evolved and came back to the creation story, now that I think back, gave respect to the old tradition: let the professionals, let the traditionalists, let the true leaders take command of it and be there. I don’t know if that makes sense.

Daniel David Moses: I have a long time ago realized that a lot of stuff that was written down was stuck on the page, and that the work that I was interested in, in poetry and theater, was meant for the ear. So even though I often find myself just obsessed with being writing poems that are very formal and getting the right words, and getting obsessed with punctuation, and all sorts of writer-y tools, they are still just tools. They’re a way of me trying to be as clear as I can about how I want the things to sound. And with the actors, I think it was in that book about punctuation, Eats, Shoots and Leaves, I read, commas became real because actors needed them. It’s just a tool. And as long as we don’t allow the deadening qualities that prose can often have when it becomes too abstract and forgets about language’s origin and the active human body, as long as we don’t forget that, I think it needs to be a problem; it’s useful. I think it allows us to create our memory.

Betsy: Yeah, there was a lovely line in there where you talk about oral tradition reminding us – our oral stories reminding us – that we’re only one generation away from… you’ll have to tell me exactly what the quote is, but –

Eric Gansworth: I’m not sure, either.

Betsy: One generation away from losing ourselves. With that, I just want to make sure that we have enough time to open this up to the audience and see if there are any questions from the audience, whether it’s about the playwright, or about the topic. Anybody?

Audience 1: I just wanted to say how much I really, really enjoyed it – just the translation and the following of the different versions of the creation story, especially your explanation of good mind and bad mind because I was trying to explain to people -- It’s not really evil -- horns and fork and that sort of thing -- it’s just unsettled. And I was wondering, do you have any affinity, more toward one of the twins or the other, would you say?

Eric: Probably. I guess I suppose I sympathize more with the bad mind. He is the one who keeps trying to do things right, or to achieve what he sees this other person doing, and at each turn, he comes up short. And I think as part of the story, it’s really important to me that he not be portrayed as an evil character, as one who is just one half of that continuum. And I guess wrestling with adversity is a real thing, and so I think one of the things that happens with our faith is that we have these stories in heart to understand who we are, and understand the situations we have. So if you have built into the way you think about the world that adversity must come – that it’s a really helpful place to live…

Audience 2: It was said at the start that it would be a work in progress. Where do you see it directed?

Eric: I have no idea. This was a very accelerated, intense week – three days. It seemed like several weeks. And I think we, by the time we got to this point, we lost about twenty pages, for which I’m sure you’re thankful. And so I don’t know. I think I learned a lot listening to the actors do these really rich things with it, things I can only imagine in my head. I can’t really sit around and try to be my niece’s voice very effectively, but to hear somebody else doing it that puts enough range to her really allows me to see that it’s on the right track. And there are other, of course, jokes that couldn’t have died, and I thought, well, maybe that wasn’t as funny as I thought it was. That’s very useful as well. I think it’ll be a little while; it’s going to have to sit in a drawer for a couple of months, maybe. I’m kind of sick of looking at it right now, but I’ll have a little bit better perspective, maybe, in the very cold room.

Audience 3: Was there a time when you thought of doing the animation in the production in any way, shape or form, rather than having the reader stand in a single spot? Is there any way you could make that presentation – actually make it a theatrical event?

Eric: I think I would like that eventually, and if I live with it long enough and don’t hate it. When you live with something a very long time – and I haven’t with this, I actually began writing it in February, so it was like nine months ago.

Betsy: It’s like birth.

Eric: So I guess, yeah, literally like water all over the floor. And this is labor. So I think that, yeah, I would like to. There are other stage directions that are in it. It’s got like, fog, and this kind of more like rock-concert theatricality in it that I want to see. It’d be really nice to see it at some point.

Audience 3: Put it to music?

Eric: Yeah, kind of like that. When I was describing it initially to people I was sending e-mails to about it – and never to a list-serve, always to individuals – I was calling it kind of Charlie Kaufman and Spike Jonze film, Adaptation meets the Queen videos from the 1970’s.

Audience 4: Was that your voice toward the end, singing?

Eric: Singing? Oh, man, I wish it was. No. That’s my friend Alex.

Mandy Hackett: Eric, I just want to congratulate you. I think even for the most seasoned playwrights, who have been writing plays for twenty years, it’s utterly terrifying to put their new work for the first time in front of an audience. And for you to be settling into The Public Theater almost for the first time, it’s really impressive, and just to have a little bit of solidarity behind you, because I know that can be a lot to take in and absorb and I think it was just incredibly moving. And I was very moved by what you were saying about the early moments of the play. There’s kind of a sense of captivation when you put a creation story on stage. I just was wondering, Eric, if you could talk a little bit about what that meant for you, and if you had some other feelings in the process. And also as a second question, having just spent some time in the process of creating theater and what we do every day, I’m wondering if there were things that surprised you, or things that you learned about doing art in this form, as opposed to visual arts or writing novels or essays and the forms that you’ve worked in the past?

Eric: That a really big question. Can I answer the second part first and then you remind me what the first part was? Okay. The thing I learned that was most significant about this was that I’m really not a very good collaborator, that I am in fact the control freak I said I was. So it’s very hard to trust somebody else, particularly the first read-through, I was like, man, can I get my plane back home early? It’s very different, and those of you who are familiar with the process, the first read-through of course, is very rough, and I thought, how can this possibly become anything else in three days time? And what I learned is that, of course. These people are professionals. They can do these miraculous things in three days time. And so I was really blown away by what they were able to do and in fact how they were able to collaborate with one another. And they were talking about things, and I’m like, “What are they even talking about? Where are they getting this?” And listening to them do these really strange things that I didn’t think had any connection, then I would see them in fact manifest exactly what was in my imagination. It was as if there had been these secret wires hidden around the back of my neck, kind of like The Matrix, and they were leading these ideas out and putting them into their brains, and I had no idea they were doing it. So I have tremendous, tremendous admiration for people who are able to do this spontaneous collaboration and work this way, because I’m just kind of like a grouchy loner, and so I sit in my room and write and paint, and put the ear buds in so nobody’s hassling me. But it was very exciting, and already I’m thinking, “Where can I go with this next? Or what’s maybe the next thing I’m going to write that’s going to be out there?” The first part of the question was?

Mandy: The first part was just kind of what Edward was talking about in terms of the play first started, you know, baby steps, the feelings of trepidation of seeing a creation story, a very sacred story, being told in this other kind of sacred space, if you will, for us, and what that means. If you had any feelings when you were starting to write the piece, about taking a creation story and trying to change it into a piece of art.

Eric: I think our creation story is maybe not quite that rigidly defined, that it’s not strictly in the ceremonial transmission. And so there are books, and painters have been working on it, obviously – visual artists have been working on it for many years – so I was okay with that particular aspect of it, but at the same time, I do know that there are people who are more traditionally inclined, who would be kind of scandalized by the fact that, to some degree, this has some irreverence in it before it gets serious. But while I was working on this, in fact, if you’ll recall the very early piece of music that’s in here, the woman singing, it’s Joanne Shenandoah, and she’s singing a woman’s shuffle song. And what I was looking for, to make sure I had the disc right that that came from, I went to Amazon, because essentially I use Amazon for books in print, it’s like Google for art in some funny way. But I’m always interested in some other lexicon of the Amazon.com review. The only people who write on Amazon.com are those who really love something, or those who want to talk shit about something. And I saw somebody write about her work in this very negative way. And it said, well, you know, this work is bad because our children are only learning these songs in this incorrect, contemporary way, and they don’t know that there’s a traditional way to learn them. And I guess what that person missed was that the children are learning these songs. And that certainly the children of my generation, we didn’t really learn those songs. I mean, I’ve been trying to learn the social songs for years, and I can’t seem to get it. And yet when listening to Joanne’s version, even as I was just playing it through to make it cue up with the slides right, suddenly I was remembering. So I think pushing a story like this forward into a contemporary place is all about the survival of a culture. There are multiple avenues to arrive at that endurance.

Betsy: Do we have one last question? Yes.

Audience 6: I felt that the visual art in the piece was like another character in the piece, and it had its own voice and it was just another way to access the story, and I was wondering if you could speak a little bit about your work as a visual artist: did you create these images for this, does it dovetail with other things you’re exploring in your work as a visual artist?

Eric: When I was much younger, in high school, I used to think that when I had used an idea once, that was it. You painted it and you put it to bed. And now I think I’ve painted the creation story something like ninety-five times in variation. And I’d say of the work that’s in here, among these paintings, maybe thirty percent of them pre-existed the play, but I often get myself into trouble by lying, I guess. As I was writing the play, I was writing these paintings into it that didn’t really exist, believing that nobody would ever take it, or that it’d at least be a couple of years – that I’d get my requisite thirty-five rejection slips before anybody ever took it anywhere. So I just made all these paintings up, thinking “Oh, that’d be a good one!” And then it got taken, and being the really compulsive person I am, I felt that they all needed to be done before this staged reading because I thought this may never have another opportunity. So the other whatever, like sixty percent of them, I started them in June, so I had this little checklist of which painting was next, and so if I wasn’t teaching or I wasn’t anywhere else, I was painting. And as soon as one was done, I’d take a photograph of it, get it off of the pad, get to the next one. Actually, I had like seven pads going at one time, of watercolor paper. So, I don’t want to paint for a while.

Betsy: I just want to thank you all for coming. I want to thank our panelists, I want to thank the artists tonight, I want to thank The Public Theater, and the audience.

ERIC GANSWORTH (Onondaga) is a professor of English and Lowery Writer-in-Residence at Canisius College in Buffalo, New York. His books include Mending Skins (PEN Oakland Award), and A Half-Life of Cardio-Pulmonary Function (National Book Critics Circle's "Good Reads" List). His work has appeared in The Kenyon Review, The Boston Review, Shenandoah, Cold Mountain Review, Poetry International, New York Quarterly, Yellow Medicine Review, American Indian Quarterly, Stone Canoe, UCLA American Indian Culture and Research Journal, Many Mountains Moving, and Studies in American Indian Literature, among other journals.

LEIGH SILVERMAN (Director) Broadway: Lisa Kron's Well. Off-Broadway credits include: Liz Flahive's From Up Here (world premiere, Manhattan Theatre Club; Drama Desk Nomination); David Henry Hwang's Yellow Face (world premiere, co-production Center Theatre Group/The Public Theater); Beebo Brinker Chronicles (world premiere, Hourglass Group and 37 Arts); Brooke Berman's Hunting and Gathering (world premiere, Primary Stages); Well (world premiere, The Public Theater, The Huntington Theater and ACT, San Francisco); Danny and the Deep Blue Sea (Second Stage Theatre); Tanya Barfield's Blue Door(Playwrights Horizons and Seattle Repertory Theater); The Five Lesbian Brothers' Oedipus At Palm Springs (world premiere, New York Theatre Workshop); Eve Ensler's The Treatment (world premiere, The Culture Project); Neena Beber's Jump/Cut (world premiere, Woolly Mammoth Theatre/Theater J and Women's Project); and Big Times (world premiere, W.E.T.). West End: Wit (Vaudeville Theatre). Other recent regional productions include: Tanya Barfield's Of Equal Measure (world premiere, Center Theatre Group); Bad Dates (Cleveland Playhouse) and How I Learned to Drive (Actors Theatre of Louisville). Upcoming projects include the new musical Coraline with music by Stephin Merritt and book by David Greenspan at MCC and Five Questions by Lisa Kron.

Originally published in The Native Theater Journal

Tom PearsonJanuary 26, 2009