Plays & Performance Pieces

THIS IS NOT A TIME OF PEACE is a play about unrest. A story of love between a father and his
daughter, it moves in concentric circles of turbulence: within a country, within a marriage,
within the mind of one woman, struggling to save her father from memories of his country’s
betrayal while committing a sexual betrayal of her own. What part of each of us is capable of
committing the crimes of any one of us? Do the forces that hold a union together serve also to
destroy it?

A woman goes to her local precinct to vote before she has to pick up her daughter, but, as soon as she gets into the voting booth, something strange happens.

A comedy concerning the grief of endless compassion! 8 STOPS takes a long, humorous, tender look at motherhood, the suburbs, the fear of death, and the inheritability of ideas.

Who are we at the moment we flip someone the bird; show the middle finger to a stranger? And what is tragedy? Is it possible that one definition of tragedy involves the realization that, in order to address an oppressor, or seek redress from him successfully, we must descend to his level? Here’s what happens when a middle-aged Jewish woman confronts her road rage at the 20-year-old intersection of young motherhood and the Anita Hill/Clarence Thomas hearings. With a fair amount of Bristol Palin tossed in. 

A critic is seated smack in the middle of a series of events he is meant to review, and people mistake each other for things they are not. A wild, vaudevillian comedy that investigates the critical impulse, from its most elegant to its most petty.

While Manhattan is still reeling from the fall of 2001, Mary and Barbara find themselves in the midst of their own private crises. As their morning commute stalls, the beautiful discord of the recovering city is healed in a tiny way through the women's sudden intimate connection, the bizarre grace of a vagrant, and the organic ascendance of kindness. A comedy!

Ponzi schemer Bernard Madoff is in prison, determined to control his own narrative for history as he dictates to a visiting biographer stories about his childhood, his family, women, money, and an all-night meeting he had with Holocaust survivor and poet, Solomon Galkin. 

There is an old married couple, struggling with physical and mental deterioration, trying to remember the word for the color turquoise. There are two teenage boys, working out how to bear the weight of a recent suicide attempt, and finding out what they mean to each other. There is a pianist with a brain injury, who can only remember the last 7 seconds, and his day nurse. Slowly, these six lives–with their unifying themes of memory, love, and loss–overlap more and more, in a simultaneous symphony of love and suffering. Turquoise reminds us that everything is always happening all at once.

A woman and her son cope with the mother's serious illness by watching basketball, borrowing the physicality of these strong, healthy men in the absence of mother's health and son's maturity. Filial love, mortality, the beauty of the body, and the collapsible boundary between Blacks and Jews are all raised by the woman's struggle to come to terms with her son's favorite basketball player having stepped into her life, and with her own ambivalence about the beauty of life in the face of her mortality.