 Can you tell us about how you researched Paul Swan and where the impetus to create this work came from? Hello NYTR, if you don’t mind, Paul would like to do this interview. Well even if you do mind, I’m going to imagine you nodding your head because you’re just questions on a piece of screen. I want to do this interview, because it’s really none of Claire’s business – she is but a conduit, a channel to moi, Paul Swan. And I’ve been waiting for a long time to make my return to New York society. Really it’s been a VERY interesting week because people keep calling up The Civilians and telling them how they saw my salon way back then, and I just want to scream. They’re coming out of the woodwork NOW? They’re saying my name NOW? I could have used that psychic energy when I was stuck in the seventh ring of hell battling a glib and pretentious former art critic. Anyway, I’ve been lingering in Claire’s corpus since she was a prepubescent young thing, and now I’m thrilled to make my 21st century New York stage debut a hundred years after my 20th century one. 2) Any memories of your great-grand uncle Paul Swan you can share with us? I have a whole book of memories, if you happen to have an agent who’d like to look at my unpublished autobiography The Distorted Shadow. I asked Claire but she had to fire hers this week, conveniently… Did you know that memoir comes from Latin memore – remember me! Fascinating, these words we have for things… I could share a memory from my Nebraskan youth, it must have been 1890 or thereabouts… I was a small boy, and I remember climbing upon the knee of a farmhand who sat with us before the winter fire in our front room. He put his arm about my small body. I remember the hair on his arm, and how warm his dark face felt, and how round his thighs were under his workman’s trousers. I remember his name was Frank Algert. I remember it felt like a conversion. Is that a sufficient memory? Did it move you? Am I still too much? 3) How do you write about a subject so close to yourself? Is it not the easiest thing in the world to write about oneself? Or something very near to oneself? The only question truly becomes: how much of one’s self is actual? And how much does one dare reveal to the eyes of a world which coldly peers from behind its mask, all while challenging “the brave” to exhibit themselves in the full nudity of their soul, mind, and body. I’ll have you know, I am not afraid of nudity of any kind! But of course, still sometimes I would like to pretend to be a blend of the Good Samaritan, Pollyanna, and Sarah Bernhardt with dashes of Will Rogers thrown in. I am just not as mild as that. And yet, I am not so reckless that I want to revel in the details of all my shocking orgies. Not that I had very many… By the way, I should tell you, you don’t have sex in the afterlife. I don’t know if you knew that, so get it in while you can. What was the question? 4) Are there discoveries you've made in the rehearsing of this work/ surprises/ delights? Funny you should ask! I’ve realized I was absolutely correct in my many theories on the subject of reincarnation. I was always absolutely rabid on the theme. Claire isn’t the ideal transport for my soul, her body is a little… softer than I like, and male beauty is obviously superior, but really it’s a question of spirals, of progressing through these spirals. When we die, we come back where we left off, only on a different plane. You don’t have a choice of who you end up in, but it’s nice being in a descendant, because I recognize some of the soul molecules inside her, or however the science works -- I’m not an expert! Claire also wants me to add, that the process has also been useful for her – with her all her research and her current possession -- she now has answers to many of the mysteries of her life: for instance, why was she so obsessed with Sarah Bernhardt as a six-year-old girl in the 1990s? Why did she choose to go to the nerd camp CTY to study Ancient Greek in 8th grade? These were my own obsessions, clues I was sending her from the beyond. It also has helped explain why, as a child in the mirror, she gave very long speeches in a strange masculine voice, and why later on, many men realized that they were, in fact, homosexual after sleeping with her only once. That was me coming through her! So, I think it’s been a fair trade and a surprising one. 5) Favorite thing you've made? I sewed a pair of velvet brocade pantaloons I absolutely adore. I also am quite proud of my wonderful dance “To A Hero Slain.” In the 1920s, war widows would throw themselves onto my instrument after I performed it – pathos is very sexual if you do it right. Sorry, Claire also wants me to tell you she is very proud of her work on The OA on Netflix, which I like for its polarizing dimension-jumping “movements” that seem dredged up from ancient time, from a collective unconscious, primal in the way that all true dance ought to be. And I like the octopus. 6) Impossible thing you would make if there were no limitations? I am Paul Swan. I am the first of our countrymen brave enough to champion the dance and to claim for it a place high among the arts and professions of men! I danced with Isadora Duncan, fascinated Andy Warhol, sculpted JFK, and more importantly, I made my way back here among the living, so therefore I have no limitations. 7) Advice you would give your younger self, a writer (or researcher) just starting out (or just starting this process)? To quote my sometimes frenemy James Purdy (not to be confused with my abhorred enemy Susan Sontag who has never understood me): “If you are a writer, you have to be an egomaniac. You have to believe in yourself, which is hard work. Because the world is telling you through The New York Times and The New York Review of Books: ‘You must shut up. You must never appear again. You are not relevant to us.’ As an artist, you must fight their attempt to destroy you, you must fight to continue feeling.” It is hard work being out of fashion, hard to continue to feel in an increasingly cynical world that has no use for queer outlandish dreamers like you and me. But you must follow your own star, you must keep searching, keep wondering: is not there more to all of this? Don’t let them fool you, the big questions have still not been answered! Come to my Chelsea salon April 25 to May 19 and see. Perhaps, together, we will discover Your Greatest Potential Self. Or mine. Either way. The Civilians Presents Paul Swan is Dead and Gone Written by Claire Kiechel Directed by Steve Cosson Choreographed by Dan Safer Featuring Tony Torn, Robert M Johanson, Helen Cespedes, and Alexis Scott Previews: April 25-27, 30 at 8pm; April 27th and 28th at 4pm Opening: Wednesday May 1st at 8pm Regular performances through May 19th: Tuesday - Saturday at 8pm; Saturday and Sunday at 4pm Torn Page 435 West 22nd Street Manhattan Tickets: $25-60 thecivilians.org 212-352-3101){kind=link}
Ryan Hudak
Curated From newyorktheatrereview.blogspot.com Check Them Out For More Content.
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| Tony Torn as Paul Swan in Paul Swan is Dead and Gone – Photo Credit: M Sharkey |
1) Can you tell us about how you
researched Paul Swan and where the impetus to create this work came from?
researched Paul Swan and where the impetus to create this work came from?
Hello NYTR, if you don’t mind, Paul would like to do this
interview. Well even if you do mind, I’m going to imagine you nodding your head
because you’re just questions on a piece of screen. I want to do this
interview, because it’s really none of Claire’s business – she is but a conduit, a channel to moi, Paul Swan. And
I’ve been waiting for a long time to make my return to New York society.
interview. Well even if you do mind, I’m going to imagine you nodding your head
because you’re just questions on a piece of screen. I want to do this
interview, because it’s really none of Claire’s business – she is but a conduit, a channel to moi, Paul Swan. And
I’ve been waiting for a long time to make my return to New York society.
Really it’s been a VERY interesting week because people keep
calling up The Civilians and telling them how they saw my salon way back then,
and I just want to scream. They’re coming out of the woodwork NOW? They’re
saying my name NOW? I could have used that psychic energy when I was stuck in
the seventh ring of hell battling a glib and pretentious former art critic. Anyway,
I’ve been lingering in Claire’s corpus since she was a prepubescent young thing,
and now I’m thrilled to make my 21st century New York stage debut a hundred
years after my 20th century one.
calling up The Civilians and telling them how they saw my salon way back then,
and I just want to scream. They’re coming out of the woodwork NOW? They’re
saying my name NOW? I could have used that psychic energy when I was stuck in
the seventh ring of hell battling a glib and pretentious former art critic. Anyway,
I’ve been lingering in Claire’s corpus since she was a prepubescent young thing,
and now I’m thrilled to make my 21st century New York stage debut a hundred
years after my 20th century one.
2) Any memories of your great-grand
uncle Paul Swan you can share with us?
uncle Paul Swan you can share with us?
I have a whole book of memories, if you happen to have an agent
who’d like to look at my unpublished autobiography The Distorted Shadow. I
asked Claire but she had to fire hers this week, conveniently… Did you know
that memoir comes from Latin memore –
remember me! Fascinating, these words we have for things…
who’d like to look at my unpublished autobiography The Distorted Shadow. I
asked Claire but she had to fire hers this week, conveniently… Did you know
that memoir comes from Latin memore –
remember me! Fascinating, these words we have for things…
I could share a memory from my Nebraskan youth, it must have
been 1890 or thereabouts… I was a small boy, and I remember climbing upon the
knee of a farmhand who sat with us before the winter fire in our front room. He
put his arm about my small body. I remember the hair on his arm, and how warm
his dark face felt, and how round his thighs were under his workman’s trousers.
I remember his name was Frank Algert. I remember it felt like a conversion.
been 1890 or thereabouts… I was a small boy, and I remember climbing upon the
knee of a farmhand who sat with us before the winter fire in our front room. He
put his arm about my small body. I remember the hair on his arm, and how warm
his dark face felt, and how round his thighs were under his workman’s trousers.
I remember his name was Frank Algert. I remember it felt like a conversion.
Is that a sufficient memory? Did it move you? Am I still too
much?
much?
3) How do you write about a subject
so close to yourself?
so close to yourself?
Is it not the easiest thing in the world to write about oneself?
Or something very near to oneself? The only question truly becomes: how much of
one’s self is actual? And how much does one dare reveal to the eyes of a world
which coldly peers from behind its mask, all while challenging “the brave” to
exhibit themselves in the full nudity of their soul, mind, and body. I’ll have
you know, I am not afraid of nudity of any kind!
Or something very near to oneself? The only question truly becomes: how much of
one’s self is actual? And how much does one dare reveal to the eyes of a world
which coldly peers from behind its mask, all while challenging “the brave” to
exhibit themselves in the full nudity of their soul, mind, and body. I’ll have
you know, I am not afraid of nudity of any kind!
But of course, still sometimes I would like to pretend to be a
blend of the Good Samaritan, Pollyanna, and Sarah Bernhardt with dashes of Will
Rogers thrown in. I am just not as mild as that. And yet, I am not so reckless that
I want to revel in the details of all my shocking orgies. Not that I had very
many… By the way, I should tell you, you don’t have sex in the afterlife. I
don’t know if you knew that, so get it in
while you can. What was the question?
blend of the Good Samaritan, Pollyanna, and Sarah Bernhardt with dashes of Will
Rogers thrown in. I am just not as mild as that. And yet, I am not so reckless that
I want to revel in the details of all my shocking orgies. Not that I had very
many… By the way, I should tell you, you don’t have sex in the afterlife. I
don’t know if you knew that, so get it in
while you can. What was the question?
4) Are there discoveries
you’ve made in the rehearsing of this work/ surprises/ delights?
you’ve made in the rehearsing of this work/ surprises/ delights?
Funny you should ask! I’ve realized I was absolutely correct in
my many theories on the subject of reincarnation. I was always absolutely rabid
on the theme. Claire isn’t the ideal transport for my soul, her body is a
little… softer than I like, and male beauty is obviously superior, but really
it’s a question of spirals, of progressing through these spirals. When we die,
we come back where we left off, only on a different plane. You don’t have a choice
of who you end up in, but it’s nice being in a descendant, because I recognize
some of the soul molecules inside her, or however the science works — I’m not an
expert!
my many theories on the subject of reincarnation. I was always absolutely rabid
on the theme. Claire isn’t the ideal transport for my soul, her body is a
little… softer than I like, and male beauty is obviously superior, but really
it’s a question of spirals, of progressing through these spirals. When we die,
we come back where we left off, only on a different plane. You don’t have a choice
of who you end up in, but it’s nice being in a descendant, because I recognize
some of the soul molecules inside her, or however the science works — I’m not an
expert!
Claire also wants me to add, that the process has also been useful
for her – with her all her research and her current possession — she now has
answers to many of the mysteries of her life: for instance, why was she so obsessed
with Sarah Bernhardt as a six-year-old girl in the 1990s? Why did she choose to
go to the nerd camp CTY to study Ancient Greek in 8th grade? These were
my own obsessions, clues I was sending her from the beyond. It also has helped
explain why, as a child in the mirror, she gave very long speeches in a strange
masculine voice, and why later on, many men realized that they were, in fact,
homosexual after sleeping with her only once. That was me coming through her! So, I
think it’s been a fair trade and a surprising one.
for her – with her all her research and her current possession — she now has
answers to many of the mysteries of her life: for instance, why was she so obsessed
with Sarah Bernhardt as a six-year-old girl in the 1990s? Why did she choose to
go to the nerd camp CTY to study Ancient Greek in 8th grade? These were
my own obsessions, clues I was sending her from the beyond. It also has helped
explain why, as a child in the mirror, she gave very long speeches in a strange
masculine voice, and why later on, many men realized that they were, in fact,
homosexual after sleeping with her only once. That was me coming through her! So, I
think it’s been a fair trade and a surprising one.
5) Favorite thing you’ve made?
I sewed a pair of velvet brocade pantaloons I absolutely adore. I
also am quite proud of my wonderful dance “To A Hero Slain.” In the 1920s, war
widows would throw themselves onto my instrument after I performed it – pathos is very sexual if you do it
right.
also am quite proud of my wonderful dance “To A Hero Slain.” In the 1920s, war
widows would throw themselves onto my instrument after I performed it – pathos is very sexual if you do it
right.
Sorry, Claire also wants me to tell you she is very proud of her
work on The OA on Netflix, which I like for its polarizing dimension-jumping “movements”
that seem dredged up from ancient time, from a collective unconscious, primal
in the way that all true dance ought to be. And I like the octopus.
work on The OA on Netflix, which I like for its polarizing dimension-jumping “movements”
that seem dredged up from ancient time, from a collective unconscious, primal
in the way that all true dance ought to be. And I like the octopus.
6) Impossible thing you would make if
there were no limitations?
there were no limitations?
I am Paul Swan. I am the first of our countrymen brave enough to
champion the dance and to claim for it a place high among the arts and
professions of men! I danced with Isadora Duncan, fascinated Andy Warhol,
sculpted JFK, and more importantly, I made my way back here among the living,
so therefore I have no limitations.
champion the dance and to claim for it a place high among the arts and
professions of men! I danced with Isadora Duncan, fascinated Andy Warhol,
sculpted JFK, and more importantly, I made my way back here among the living,
so therefore I have no limitations.
7) Advice you would give your younger
self, a writer (or researcher) just starting out (or just starting this
process)?
self, a writer (or researcher) just starting out (or just starting this
process)?
To quote my sometimes frenemy James Purdy (not to be confused
with my abhorred enemy Susan Sontag who has never understood me): “If you are a
writer, you have to be an egomaniac. You have to believe in yourself, which is
hard work. Because the world is telling you through The New York Times and
The New York Review of Books: ‘You
must shut up. You must never appear again. You are not relevant to us.’ As an
artist, you must fight their attempt to destroy you, you must fight to continue
feeling.”
with my abhorred enemy Susan Sontag who has never understood me): “If you are a
writer, you have to be an egomaniac. You have to believe in yourself, which is
hard work. Because the world is telling you through The New York Times and
The New York Review of Books: ‘You
must shut up. You must never appear again. You are not relevant to us.’ As an
artist, you must fight their attempt to destroy you, you must fight to continue
feeling.”
It is hard work being out of fashion, hard to continue to feel in an increasingly cynical world
that has no use for queer outlandish dreamers like you and me. But you must follow
your own star, you must keep searching, keep wondering: is not there more to
all of this? Don’t let them fool you, the
big questions have still not been answered! Come to my Chelsea salon April 25
to May 19 and see. Perhaps, together, we will discover Your Greatest Potential
Self. Or mine. Either way.
that has no use for queer outlandish dreamers like you and me. But you must follow
your own star, you must keep searching, keep wondering: is not there more to
all of this? Don’t let them fool you, the
big questions have still not been answered! Come to my Chelsea salon April 25
to May 19 and see. Perhaps, together, we will discover Your Greatest Potential
Self. Or mine. Either way.
The Civilians Presents
Paul Swan is Dead and Gone
Written by Claire Kiechel
Directed by Steve Cosson
Choreographed by Dan Safer
Featuring Tony Torn, Robert M Johanson, Helen Cespedes, and Alexis Scott
Previews: April 25-27, 30 at 8pm; April 27th and 28th at 4pm
Opening: Wednesday May 1st at 8pm
Regular performances through May 19th: Tuesday – Saturday at 8pm; Saturday and Sunday at 4pm
Torn Page
435 West 22nd Street
Manhattan
Manhattan
Tickets: $25-60
thecivilians.org
212-352-3101
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