Two Emerging Artists

The pandemic has interrupted creative process for many of us–and also provided alternatives. Miriam’s Well catches up with two emerging artists who left Brooklyn for a quieter environment and sees what they are up to.

Credit Sub/Urban Photography

My name is Sophie (they/them) – I am an artist based in NYC, but am currently residing in my hometown of Sudbury, MA with my partner, Daisy, and my generous parents. Right now I am working on my play Marked Green at Birth, Marked Female at Birth, a play that follows six teens and their navigation of how young women’s identities have been informed by the male gaze, especially during the formative years of middle and high-school. I’ve been working on it consistently for almost a year now, and am trying to round out this current draft. I re-visited the play when I was at the Williamstown Theatre Festival in the Berkshires this past Summer, and am certainly fulfilled continuing to work on it in the woods of Massachusetts. I think the space away from NYC and the nature-esque environment lends itself as a helpful place to write (although I will add a woodpecker has woken Daisy and I for the past 3 mornings, but yes, things could certainly be worse). What’s most challenging for me right now is that I am limited to hearing my actors read these characters out loud over Zoom. I miss terribly the pulse that happens in a room of artists eager to explore new text.

Here is an excerpt from “Marked Green at Birth, Marked Female at Birth.”

CHICK
Today in school I realized I’ve been taking Spanish since kindergarten and I still truly still have no idea how to talk to someone in Spanish
JAZZ
Today in school a boy told me he would give me a piece of gum if I proved to him my underwear was orange and not hot pink and I proved it to him and he didn’t give me a piece of gum
ALL
Today in school we learned about Chappaquiddick
FLO
What does it feel like to go on a date with a famous man
BLAKE
What does it feel like to go on a date with a famous man politician sexy politician man
CHICK
What does it feel like to go on a date with a famous man politician sexy politician man and then he drives you off a bridge and leaves you there to die
JAZZ
What does it feel like to be submerged underwater for 10 hours
FLO
In a shirt, a bra, a pair of pants and no underwear
JAZZ
In a dress that took 3 hours to choose
CHICK
What does it feel like to be submerged underwater for 10 hours and then saved in 10 minutes/
BLAKE
Dear Diary,
What did it feel like to be Jackie Kennedy?
To love someone so much that when their brains blow up in your lap you literally try and put their head back together
Will anyone ever love me that much?
Did Star love me that much?
I wish I could ask Grandma why she hated Jackie Kennedy but she’s dead
My grandma is dead and Jackie Kennedy is dead and all these women are dead and I want to ask them so many things
Grandma?
Why didn’t you ever stand up to Grandpa?
Why did you let him have Haagen-Daz bars for lunch?
Why were you so afraid of swimming in the ocean?
Why can’t your own granddaughter tell the truth more often
Why can’t your own granddaughter own up to her own actions
Why can’t your own granddaughter stand up to
Anyone
I have the words to stand up to someone
I can feel them in my mouth so thick and hot like
Like
Like
Like the cajun fries Star and I used to shove into each others mouths and then we would laugh and laugh until we couldn’t breathe cause we each had like 40 fries in our mouths at one time
I had so much fun with you
Or
Maybe that wasn’t really you
Maybe I used to do that with someone else
Did we even go there together?
I pretend to forget things
I have to
I actually think I have a disorder where I remember everything but I don’t want to seem like I remember everything cause
I don’t want to make anyone feel bad for not remembering and
I don’t want to scare anyone away
No one remembers fucking anything
Did I scare you away?
I forgot to stand up to my teacher when she pronounced my last name wrong and she just called me that for the rest of the year
I forgot to stand up for you when people were whispering about why you left
I forgot to stand up to
You
Next time
But next time,
I also might forget again
Did I scare you away?
I forgot to stand up to 
You
Next time 
But next time,
I also might forget again 
But also like 
What really happened is kind of like
Subjective
Right?
Like who really gets to decide what realllllly happened? 
People like Ted Kennedy? 
So the men that were there? 
Who heard about it from other men who heard about it from other men who heard about it from other men who heard about it from other men who heard it about from other men who were actually there
After watching my mom long enough I’m not sure if she actually likes her life 
I watched her for a really long time recently 
She forgets to stand up for me
I have to forgive her for that or else I’ll hate her for being my mom and I don’t want that ever 
She forgot to buy me a new winter coat I think 
Eve has four winter coats 
One of them is a really puffy yellow and she only wears it with these little gold XOXO earrings to accent the yellow-ness
It’s so puffy
I bet I could push her down the stairs and she wouldn’t feel anything I’m not gonna try it!!!!!! 
I really don’t want to write all these handwritten thank you notes to people I hate who came to my Bat-Mitzvah even though I promised I would 
I know you don’t really want to get dinner with me and my parents cause you know our friendship is over 
When we get our licenses, if you drove me off a bridge, would you leave me there to die? 
If you don’t love me anymore can you please just say so to my face

***

Credit Bryce Dorand

I’m Daisy Rosato (she/her), a multi-hyphen of writer-director-artist based in Brooklyn. I’m currently in Massachusetts with Sophie, my partner, and their parents. I am feeling quite lucky to have such support in this time of great uncertainty.
I am currently working on STUFF, a play about three generations of women exploring what we inherit from our family. It takes place at the grandmother’s home in Georgia and travels through the present to the past, slipping into surrealism as a way to investigate our subjective experiences with memory, grief, and love.
I created the first iteration of this piece in college as a one-act short play. After not touching it for five years, I am now in the process of expanding it to a full-length play. It’s challenging to revisit older writing, trying to remain faithful to its original form while also breathing new life into it. However, as I go through my rounds of edits, I am delighted to feel myself moving deeper into the story while retaining joy throughout the process. I am grateful to my former self for having begun the excavation so many years ago and to myself now for remaining committed to the story I am telling.

Here is an excerpt from “Stuff.”

Act Three Scene Seven

A thanksgiving feast has been prepared. JOSIE sits at the head of the table. FISH has a medical bandage around her head.LUMBERJACK has her axe sticking straight through her neck. They join hands as if to say a prayer. The LITTLE BOY sits at the piano and plays the song from earlier. They sing:
FISH
I am a fish and I swim in the sea.
Out in the water you’ll never get me.

LUMBERJACK
You think you can run?

FISH
Running’s all I do.

LUMBERJACK
You’ll run you’re whole life!

FISH
Running far from you!

LUMBERJACK
So it’s me you flee?

FISH
I don’t know? Maybe!

LUMBERJACK
You say you’re a fish; I’m a fisherman.

FISH
Now I’m an orange blossom, high in a tree.

LUMBERJACK
That’s it! Okay? I’ve done all that I can!

FISH
All I wanted was for you to chase me!

JOSIE joins in for the “ALL THREE” parts.

ALL THREE
I love you I do!
I love you I do!
I try to say it—”

LUMBERJACK
But I smash the plate

FISH
And I crash the car.

BOTH
You spit? I spit back.

FISH
I’m stupid

LUMBERJACK
And weak.

ALL THREE
We’re trying our best!
Our best isn’t good!
Our best is bad and there’s nothing to do!

I stand on your grave!
Dance a little dance!
My days preparing to fight you are done.
It’s happened; you’re gone.

So tell me: if I’d shown up at your door,
And asked for my mom,
Would you’ve let me in?
Or was it our fate to fight til the end?

They finish. Blackout.

Credit Tatum Mangus