And what I meant by ridiculous set and prop pieces is that they exist in their current state because of my hardened will to make this show as immersed with the reality of Vincent as possible. A few things the audience won’t even notice, a few things they simply couldn’t know.

I just took this photo a half hour ago in the apartment/performance space. Will this chair look familiar to any of the audience members? Maybe, but within my play, it’s never directly referred to as any chair in particular.

Van Gogh’s Chair, 1888.

thanks to vangoghletters.org

Of course, it’s Vincent’s chair (almost). Of course I spent a bunch of time searching on ebay to find it (as did my props mistress). But you know, whatevs.

See that canvas stretcher hanging in mid-air? Looks about right in size as far as Vincent’s paintings go, right? Well, it’s actually a very precise size…

“Yes, during the autumn I’d very much like to do a dozen or so square no. 30 canvases, and that may very well be achieved, as far as I can see.”  September 25, 1888

“And so I have 7 square no. 30 canvases on the go. [...] More than once I’ve done a no. 30 canvas in a day, but then it was the case that from morning till sunset I didn’t move from the sitting except to eat a bite.” October 2, 1888

“I’m behind myself as far as croquis go, being so totally absorbed these recent superb days with square no. 30 canvases, which wear me out considerably and I intend to use to decorate the house.” October 3, 1888

Basically, this “no. 30″ canvas size was what he got very into using for awhile (and interestingly enough, it was during the part of his life that I would totally set the time machine at, if I had one: early autumn of 1888, before Gauguin got there). So yeah. I made sure the canvas stretcher was his favorite size.

Also, how amazing does that painted wall look behind it?

And that couch looks awfully comfy, doesn’t it? You’ll probably wanna sit there sometime soon, so I’d recommend buying tickets (yes, click on those purple words) cause there’s only room for 20 people in the audience at each show. :)

Alright, I’ll do my best to update over the next two weeks, but life might be too crazy, so bear with me? Don’t abandon me? Because if you’re reading this, I love you. At least a little bit. Thank you for reading.

First and foremost, we had our fabulous Rooftop Fundraiser Extravaganza last Thursday! It went swimmingly! (And yes, that may be a pun about the presence of a hot tub on this particular rooftop)

Photography by Shannon O'Neil

Look at my beautiful cast and crew! And my beautiful roof! This is indeed the roof of the very building where Vincent’s Yellow will be happening, in the background there you have Millennium Park, and you can even see part of the Art Institute of Chicago (where Vincent’s paintings are). Because there are no photos elsewhere on the site of these two lovely ladies, I’d like to point out that on the far right is my wondrous choreographer, Katie Eberhardy, and on the left that beautiful blond, bespectacled woman in a blue dress is my co-director, co-producer, co-We’re-Going-To-Make-This-Happen, Amy Buckler. The only person missing is my lovely Stage Manager/Assistant-to-Everything, Shannon O’Neil, who was taking the photos that night.

There she is! Isn’t she perrty? She came all the way out from New York for the month of July just to help me. Also, to enjoy Chicago in the summer, which is certainly worthy of her time.

Photography by Shannon O'Neil

We also maybe had a little fun playing with my Van Gogh doll. His ear comes off!

Photography by Shannon O'Neil

See? I’m holding it! And look at me and my lovely family: awww…

Shannon has also been going around Chicago lately taking photos of the Van Gogh doll in different locations, and so far this one has turned out to be my favorite:

Photography by Shannon O'Neil

Isn’t this photo profound? There’s something really fascinating about representation here: self-representation, others seeing your self-representation, the other’s representation of you, and all of this in a photo, that creates another imaging of two images… This photo really expresses to me a lot about Vincent’s Yellow, how in questioning this icon, and this human, we question ourselves. Who is Vincent looking at? What are we really seeing? How would he look at us looking at him? That’s all I can think while looking at this photograph.

The other thing accomplished this past week was that we painted the space! Not only was this important to set the right tone for the performance (it must be a space that feels old, from another time), but suddenly I found myself with paint on my hands, and thinking of Vincent. It took about 35 man hours to finish the apartment off, luckily I had help. Also luckily, my co-director Amy spent the last year in a scenic paint shop. I won’t show you the finished product, but here were some of the early stages.

Photography by Shannon O'Neil

Hi Amy!

Photography by Shannon O'Neil

Hi apartment!

Okay, that’s all for this week, running off to do many more things (like get less bruised from dance rehearsal, or make some canvas stretchers, or finish off my map of the current locations of Vincent’s paintings)…

much love!

Church at Auvers, 1890.

Mademoiselle Gachet in the Garden, 1890.

Tree trunks in the grass, 1890.

Vincent’s time in Auvers-sur-Oise was a period of most passionate productivity, it is one of the most incredible outpourings of all Art History. Were you trying to cure yourself with painting, Vincent, which you said calmed your mind? Or were you trying to prove something before you finally gave up on this world? I’m not sure I’ll ever have a satisfactory answer…

What I do know is that I unwittingly share this time with you. I am about to embark on a period of intense productivity myself – teaching theater to children all day and rehearsing at night – understanding my craft from every possible angle and, I’m sure, learning many new things. My choreographer said to me the other day, “so the whole play is like one big crescendo, right?” I agreed heartily with her. It is also what the making of this play will be from now until opening night.

Unwittingly, I arranged my rehearsal period to begin and end within the same dates as your seventy days. Your first letter from Auvers is dated May 20th, my first rehearsal, 120 years later, was May 22nd. And opening night is the anniversary of your death, when your soul finally left its body…

But my, how you linger in so many other forms. I never can get over how you keep popping up everywhere.

All my love to you today, readers. May you feel as cosmically entwined as I do, for as Vincent wrote July 10, 1888:

That rakes up the eternal question: is life visible to us in its entirety, or before we die do we know of only one hemisphere?

Painters — to speak only of them — being dead and buried, speak to a following generation or to several following generations through their works. Is that all, or is there more, even? In the life of the painter, death may perhaps not be the most difficult thing.