Old-Old-School Comfort Food with Lewis and Clark
Edible dramaturgy is our favorite kind of dramaturgy. This is kind of food Lewis and Clark would have eaten when times were good on the expedition of the Corps of Discovery – corn and beans with sunflower nuts. Eat on.
Corn and Beans with Sunflower Nuts
Ingredients:
¼ cup butter or margarine
1 cup canned black beans
2 cups canned and drained (or frozen and thawed) whole kernel corn
¾ cup water
1/8 teaspoon salt
1/8 teaspoon ground black pepper
1/8 teaspoon cayenne pepper
½ cup unsalted shelled sunflower nuts
- In a large saucepan, melt ¼ cup butter over medium heat.
- Drain and rinse 1 cup black beans
- Add beans and 2 cups corn to saucepan. Cook about 5 minutes.
- Stir in water, salt, black pepper, and red pepper. Bring to boil over medium heat.
- Reduce heat to low. Cook about 20 minutes.
- Stir in sunflower nuts and serve.
~From Cooking on the Lewis and Clark Expedition by Mary Gunderson,
Capstone Press, 2000
FULL-LENGTH PLAY: An interview about The Making of a Modern Folk Hero with Dramaturg Maura Krause and Playwright Martín Zimmerman
Did a vision of the pudgy Mexican hero of the people known as Superbarrio inspire you to write this play?
It wasn’t Superbarrio himself so much as the story of his creation that inspired the play. I read this story in the book Mexican Enough by Stephanie Elizondo Griest, which I’d received as a birthday present from my girlfriend/partner. Thereafter, I did some research about Superbarrio, but I didn’t want to delve too deep, because this isn’t a play about Superbarrio, and the world it inhabits is supposed to be the slightest bit heightened, absurd, fantastical. So the idea for the play came as a “what if”. What if the politician creating the superhero and the man portraying the superhero had different needs and agendas? This, as far as I understand it, has not been the case with Superbarrio, so I didn’t want to get too bogged down in the details of Superbarrio while writing the play. That said, much as I intended the play to be somewhat heightened and of another world, real events over the past several months have come to make the world of the play look more realistic than it seemed only a year ago. I’m referring to some of the spontaneous uprisings aided by technology in the Middle East. The world is strange that way. How reality can come to resemble a fantasy you’ve created just when you least expect it.
Is it even possible to explain the anatomy of a really great tweet?
It is totally possible and has been done in several publications. Most notably in a New Yorker blog post entitled “Hash” by Susan Orlean. It’s a wonderful post about the anatomy and evolution of the hashtag. So, in an oblique way, it’s also about the anatomy of a tweet. I highly recommend it. It talks about how the hashtag allows the author of a tweet to take on more than one voice. Voice A and Voice B. Text and subtext. It’s a consummately theatrical form if you think about it.
Who’s a better folk hero, Davy Crockett or Guy Fawkes?
Oooh. Great question. In so far as either of them is a folk hero, I’m going to have to go with Guido Fawkes. I never understood why so few people refer to Guido by his adopted name, which, in terms of its musicality, is far superior to the more British-sounding “Guy.” But that’s another question for another day. At the risk of sounding blasphemous to the state of Texas (which I loved living in for 3 years), I really don’t think Davey Crockett is a hero. While the men at the Alamo chose to stay and fight knowing they would die (which is either valiant or stupid depending on your point of view) they were ultimately fighting for slavery. Quite literally. The Republic of Texas was founded because Mexico had outlawed slavery in Texas and the U.S. citizens who had moved there wanted to continue holding slaves. So the men at the Alamo were fighting for the liberty to rob other people of theirs. Which is not to say Guido Fawkes was any better. He was ultimately an incompetent and a terrorist, but I think the phenomenon of Guido Fawkes is more deserving of the “folk hero” moniker because, with Fawkes, the whole doesn’t really equal the sum of its parts, does it? With Davey Crockett you can at least understand why someone might mistakenly think he’s a hero. Whereas I’m not exactly sure why anyone would revere Fawkes. And isn’t that the epitome of a “folk” hero? Someone who in their own right might be rather unspectacular, but whom time and distance lends a strange reverence?
FULL-LENGTH PLAY: A Lesson on Volcanic in Origin by LaRonika Thomas, Associate Producer & Dramaturg
“In a recent bulletin of the Superintendent of the Census for 1890 appear these significant words: ‘Up to and including 1880, the country had a frontier of settlement, but at present the unsettled area has been so broken into isolated bodies of settlement that there can hardly be said to be a frontier line. In the discussion of its extent, its westward movement, etc., it can not, therefore, any longer have a place in the census reports.’ This brief official statement marks the closing of a great historic movement. Up to our own day American history has been in a large degree the history of the colonization of the Great West. The existence of an area of free land, its continuous recession, and the advance of American settlement westward, explain American development.”
The Significance of the Frontier in American History, Frederick Jackson Turner, 1893
“When Coronado passed through the area in the 16th century, he described an acute sense of European disorientation as his men struggled to plot a course across a place ‘with no more landmarks than if we had been swallowed up by the sea.’”
“The American West as Classroom, Art and Metaphor,” Randy Kennedy. New York Times, May 3, 2011.
When Frederick Jackson Turner presented his paper at the American Historical Association, during the World’s Columbian Exposition in Chicago, he set out what came to be known as the Frontier Thesis, or Turner Thesis, positing that a driving force of the American character, what set us apart from Europeans, was the effect of the frontier. A defining characteristic of being American was the need to improvise when confronting the so-called wilderness, to make one’s own laws and rules when carving out a home in the uncharted landscape.
Turner was also concerned, and he was not the only one, about the future development of what may be called “American-ness,” now that the frontier was broken up due to extensive settlement and development of the West. If Americans are defined by the confrontation and development unknown lands, what happens to our national identity when there are no more of these lands? This seems to be an incredible question to ask just 90 years after Lewis & Clark’s historic expedition west. Turner’s essay intertwines the idea of being an American with the geography and geology of the land, and, despite his many critics and his obvious and grand oversight that the American West was already settled before any Caucasian arrived, it influences thinking about America to this day.
Lewis and Clark’s expedition, mandated by Thomas Jefferson, was approved by congress prior to the Louisiana Purchase. When the United States doubled its size thanks to this sale of land, the expedition’s importance increased, as it would now be mapping land belonging to this young country. Both born before the American Revolution, Meriwether Lewis was 30 and William Clark was 34 when they set out with 31 other members of the Corps of Discovery. They could not have predicted the ultimate physical or emotional route of their journey. They faced starvation, bears, cold, unfriendly tribes and more. And, while only one man perished during their three-year trek, it could be said that they were lost and in danger more than once. The expedition set in motion not only the first organized mapping and naming of the American West, but also a host of other events and consequences, including relationships with Native American tribes, and the discovery (by which is meant perhaps the description for white American ears) of many of the West’s incredible natural features. These natural features would eventually become many of our nation’s national parks. Yosemite, the world’s first national park, was an extraordinary experiment in democracy, perhaps one could say in “American-ness,” as it is an open space for anyone, regardless of economic status or origin, to explore. Today the 1,200 square mile park is visited by at least 3.7 million people from around the world each year.
“I grew up in Indiana and Michigan, but really feel like Chicago, where I lived for six years before moving to Baltimore, is home.” “I spent my childhood bouncing from place to place thanks to my dad’s career – I’ve lived all over, but feel most at home in Portland. I came to go to college and haven’t left yet.” “I only ever lived in Kansas City, and I only ever want to live in Kansas City.” “No matter where I go, I’m a Southern girl at heart.” “I escaped to the city as soon as I could.” “I left the city as soon as I could.”
All of these are statements overheard in DC over the past month.
Just like the actual Lewis and Clark and the Corps of Discovery, and Frederick Jackson Turner, and the characters of Greg Hischak’s Volcanic in Origin, we each attempt to name, and therefore to possess, what is unknown to us, and the idea of place is, one might argue, just as important to our identity as Americans as it ever was. We Americans are a genuine hodgepodge of people mostly originally from other places, and our idea of ourselves as individuals and as a country continues to change. We get lost in order to find ourselves and each other, we lie about where we are going and where we want to go, telling the truth only to a select few companions, and we reveal our true natures by our staying and our going. The frontier exists as much in our hearts and minds as on a map, here in this evolving American landscape.
FULL-LENGTH PLAY: A Chat about SPACEBAR: A Broadway Play by Kyle Sugarman between Director Jason Schlafstein and Dramaturg Bryan Joseph Lee

6:57 PM
Bryan: So hello, Jason Schlafstein - Director of SPACEBAR: A Broadway Play by Kyle Sugarman
Jason: Hey there Bryan Joseph Lee, Dramaturg of Spacebar
Bryan: Because Spacebar (the play within a play) takes place in the year 900x, we’ve decided to submit our program notes via the aid of technology (hey there gchat)
Jason: Boom.
Bryan: I’m gonna hit you with a few random questions that may or may not have to do with the play. Ready?
Jason: Absolutely.
Bryan: 3… 2…1…Spacebar is not about the big key on your keyboard. What is your favorite key on a keyboard?
Jason: The ‘contacts’ button on the front of my phone keyboard. I’m also partial to the letter “J”.
Bryan: Obvi. Spacebar is, in fact, about a bar in space. What is your favorite bar and would it be prosperous in the vacuum of space? (inquiring minds want to know)
Jason: Hm. My favorite bar is Sidebar in Silver Spring. I think their alcohol expertise would keep them successful no matter where they are.
Bryan: One of the reasons I’m so drawn to this play is because it tackles some universal themes (coming of age, your first love, the struggle for acceptance, etc)
Jason: Yeah, but it does it with great specificity rather than trying to generalize. Which I find, 9 times out of 10, makes any story more universal. We see ourselves in the details.
Bryan: Exactly. Kyle Sugarman, playwriter, has very specific dreams. He wants, more than anything, to see his name written in lights on Broadway
Jason: Yes, but he wants it for VERY specific reasons. Even if he doesn’t consciously see it this way, getting his name in lights is a means to a particular end. And I find it very interesting when characters start at odds, or somewhat conflicted, with their real intentions. That’s very human.
Bryan: It’s deep like that. Michael Mitnick is one smart cookie.
Jason: Yeah. There’s a real sense of craft. And not an overwhelming, “Look at me, I’m clever and good at this,” kind of craft.
Bryan: Right
Jason: Which is I guess, the definition of “depth” isn’t it?
Bryan: Next question: As a director, how do you normally find an inroad to your script? Is there a certain sense (visual, aural, spatial, etc) that you activate first?
Jason: I tend to first find my way in aurally, and conceptually - really honing in on what my read of the play brings to the surface. Also, discussions with the cast really helped influence the depth of this production. Our table work has been a completely consistent process - really exploring the psychology and relationships of these particular people, the town they come from, and the cycles of small town America
Bryan: What are your inspirations? (I’m using the word as broadly as you’d like to receive it)
Jason: Yeah, they’re all over the map. Musician Matthew Good. One of his songs, “Flight Recorder” on Viking 7 became one of the show’s tent poles to me. Pro-wrestling language actually forms a huge part of the vocabulary through which I process and discuss creativity - ideas like “selling” or “turns” or what have you. I also love teen romance and would kill to direct 80s style John Hughes romance plays for the rest of my career.
Bryan: That’s awesome. I’m totally expecting pile drivers in your production of 16 Candles
Jason: No pile drivers. Some making out.
Bryan: !!!! :(
Jason: Dude, don’t frown making out. Making out is awesome.
Bryan: I meant :( to no pile drivers :) to making out
Jason: ah
Bryan: Next q: Finish this sentence: “I remember my first time _____. It was awesome.”
Jason: sitting in the audience hearing people respond to the first play I directed. It was a One Act in High School about Felix the cat. Hearing people laugh when I thought they would be “ooohing” as they went in for a kiss. That was pretty awesome. And now, this is what I do. So I guess it had an effect. The Secret Origin of Jason Schlafstein, director. Any more Q’s to A?
Bryan: Jes. Describe Kyle Sugarman in 5 words.
Jason: Relentless drive and determination. Spacebar.
Bryan: Boom.
7:54 PM
10-MINUTE PLAYS: Dramaturg Maura Krause Untangles Lovers & Friends
How do you define lover? How do you define friend? How do you communicate with those close to you? These six plays delve into the way shared experience creates our relationships and the private languages that we all develop with others. Whether it’s a disillusioned couple speaking in a code made of long-standing grudges, or a couple of balloons struggling to stick together at a child’s birthday party, these playwrights have presented us with keen, poignant, and hilarious glimpses of relationships we would never see, but are still strangely close to our own.
10-MINUTE PLAYS: Associate Producer and Dramaturg LaRonika Thomas Solves Lost & Found
These six plays offer up distinct stories of things lost and things found. A young woman loses an idol in exchange for finding her own voice; an eater loses his identity as he finds his hunger; a mother loses the punch line, but finds her children’s hearts; an iconic writer finds a business partner and his greatest story; a lovelorn man loses his fear in order to find his lover; and two friends find each other while they wait to be discovered by the rest of the universe. It is a well-worn trope that sometimes you must lose yourself in order to find yourself, but never has such a familiar idea been given so many dimensions as in this group of plays. Come along on this adventure with us and ask yourself what you are willing to lose and what you are aching to find.

