Reading

Dance My Pain Away: Future Ghost at the Voxel

Previous Story
Article Image

Issue 19: Hidden Gems, hosted at True Chesapeake

Next Story
Article Image

BmoreArt News: Artscape, Trans Visibility, Preakness

What better venue than The Voxel—Baltimore’s own transformational, cutting edge, tech-lab theaterto carry you back in time? Though it may be precisely the time most of us would rather not revisit, in the hands of the Queer performance ensemble, Future Ghost, the journey is well worth taking. 

With one of the most illustrative titles ever—the dance floor, the hospital room, and the kitchen table (I’ll get to that later)—the show revisits the AIDS crisis in America. Its story spans from the earliest days of the outbreak to how today’s aging Boomers, Millennials, and Gen X’ers view the present and the past through the lens of one of the worst pandemics since the Spanish Flu of 1918.  

By way of background, the dance floor, the hospital room, and the kitchen table, written and directed by Lyam B. Gabel and further developed by the actors who perform it, Hannah Cornish, Owen Ever, and Frank Barret, grew out of a desire by the author to bring some light to not just the disease, but to the people who experienced and lived through this uniquely disastrous phenomenon.

The production includes a curated series of recorded interviews with some players who were on this field of nightmares through the chaotic days of its development and spread, navigating the maze of misinformation and fear. With the actual voices of some of the respondents, Gabel and company weave a tapestry of these stories, some real, some imagined with sequins and songs, but all moving and valid. 

AIDS first emerged as a little blip on the gaydar screen around 1980 or so, give or take. There wasn’t much media coverage, and even among the gay community, we largely viewed it as a series of isolated incidents that seemed to be happening to some of the more promiscuous members of the tribe. I remember being at a cocktail party around then when we were laughing and joking about it, ascribing the ‘Gay Plague’ as maybe being caused by industrial carpeting and track lights (they were both all the rage with hip gays back then.)

The disease was originally going to be called ‘GRID’, (for Gay-Related Immune Deficiency.) When it spread to the Haitians, hemophiliacs through blood transfusions, intravenous drug users—showing up in hospitals and morguesit still took years for the government to get involved. Movie star Rock Hudson’s death, Michael Jackson and Elizabeth Taylor’s involvement, and then Elton John all helped focus attention on the disease. Still we heard little from the victims. They didn’t live long enough to tell their stories. What we did hear was the deafening silence of the Reagan administration.  

Left to right: Owen Ever, Hannah Cornish, and Frank Barret
Owen Ever

the dance floor, the hospital room, and the kitchen table follows three people who arrive at what appears to be a kind of warehouse or storage unit, filled with dozens of boxes. They interact with 80s era cassette tapes, popping them into cassette players. 

The show’s use of video adds another layer of past and present. Cameras move across the spacehandheld or stationary on tripods, ladders, a desk top, the floor. Large screens in the background project their footage as well as recorded portions of these journeys. The effect is a seamlessly crafted presentation of voices and emotions: the tears, the laughs, the fear, the shameful treatment of the victims, and the lack of support for caregivers by both the government and the general public. 

Which brings me to the title. I asked the author, “Where did the title come from?” And I was told it is a direct reference to where Queer care happens. 

Oh. It’s so true. 

In our culture, the dance floor was where we were most able to show up for each other to celebrate our music, our sex, our ‘outness.’ We poured our souls out to the disco beat of our dreams. And when the monster of this disease descended on us, we danced even faster to try to outrun it. the dance floor. And when we couldn’t, our gatherings shifted to the hospitals where we hoped to receive or offer care (though in search of rescue, we’d experience trauma there tooboth physical and emotional). the hospital room. And in between, we talked and cooked and ate and tried to strategize how to get through these dark and worsening days, tried to solve the day-to-day crap. Who can visit Tommy? Are you going to Peter’s funeral? John’s funeral? Who’s coming to mine? the kitchen table

 

Left to right: Hannah Cornish, Frank Barret, Owen Ever
Hannah Cornish
Frank Barret and Owen Ever

Future Ghost, a Queer performance collective that is the brainchild of Lyam B. Gabel and Joseph Amodei, is the producing group behind this innovative and heart-touching piece. They use the term ‘Queer Futurity.’ I love that. Joseph Amodei designed the media. Scenic design is by Sasha Jin Schwartz. Lighting design is by André Segar. Sound design is by eben joondeph hoffer. Composition is by kei slaughter. Live sound mixing is by Travis Joseph Wright. I listed all of the creatives on the program without singling anyone out because it was such a brilliantly coordinated effort that melded into a single technological on-point display. But I will credit writer and director Lyam B. Gabel with beautifully pulling together his vision into this innovative and enlightening experience.

The three actors on stage, Hannah Cornish, Owen Ever, and Frank Barret channeled not just the voices but the emotions of those who lived or died through those years up to and including now, each in their own distinctive tones, in an arc that builds by exposing their own fears and feelings. Whether through the hauntingly beautiful interpretation of “I Will Always Love You” sung by Hannah Cornish, or the tears of Owen Ever, or the stripped down honesty of Frank Barret, each bared their bodies and souls on the stage. Sometimes messy, sometimes funny, sometimes poignant, but always, always with a sense of honesty that the audience couldn’t fail to feel with them. At least I couldn’t. 

I am one of those who lived through the AIDS crisis, losing loved-ones, maintaining my own health, feeling survivor’s guilt when friends died. I somehow miraculously escaped being touched physically if not emotionally. the dance floor, the hospital room, and the kitchen table reminds audiences healing happens through stories too. One of the themes, the one about the dance floor, particularly resonated with me. ‘Some danced to remember, some danced to forget.’ And we’ll keep dancing. 

the dance floor, the hospital room, and the kitchen table runs through May 25 at The Voxel, 9 West 25th Street Baltimore, MD 21218

Click here for information and tickets. 

Header image: Hannah Cornish, Frank Barret and Owen Ever. Photos by Chris Ashworth, courtesy of The Voxel.

Related Stories
The Burlesque Class of 2025 Invites You to Their Graduation

“We’re teaching from the inside out by really getting down deep into the issues that are keeping [students] from who they really want to be and translating that to the stage but also translating it to daily life."

Baltimore's Most Fun Punks Drop a New Video, Wisdom, and a Show in Philly Next Month

"Politics have always been intertwined with music. I don't feel there's more of it now; it depends on what's happening in the world at any given moment." -Tommy Rouse

Baltimore-based Visual and Performing Artists Explore Conservation at the National Aquarium

"The words ‘childlike wonder’ come up with all of them. That's what the artists want to invoke in attendees—inviting adults back to play, realizing the power in being in that space."

Charles Ludlam's Queertastic Penny Dreadful, 'The Mystery of Irma Vep'

Ludlam wrote the play in the 1980s, and the current production at Everyman Theatre proves the genre has resonated for not only decades but centuries—still just as luridly, in this case also hilariously, entertaining.