 I have to take a little bit of time to attend this. I'm just going to put this right down. So we have like 30 seconds. So that's like 30 seconds. I think I have a few words. No, but I don't mind. Yeah. Okay. This is better. No, I can't handle this. That's okay. That's fine. Okay. I'm the ah, I'm the ah, I'm the ah, as it's created. What makes this? Okay. I'm actually asking someone to come up with something. First, it was like asking the power to do that. And then they will just stand up and get through this. So like, we'll do this. We'll do this. Who are the students? Yeah. She's on. She's on. Yes. She's on. She's on. She's on. She's on. She's on. She's on. She's on. She's on. She's on. She's on. She's on. She's on. She's on. She's on. She's on. She's on. She's on. She's on. She's on. She's on. She's on. She's on. She's on. She's on. She's on. She's on. She's on. She's on. She's on. She's on. She's on. She's on. She's on. She's on. She's on. She's on. She's on. She's on. She's on. Do you happen to have the tithe and do you share? The time? Yes. 7.36. Thank you. Thank you. Good evening. Thank you all for coming to Gumball. To come down here. The red couch is fairly large. You want to sprawl and laugh? You have a lot of space here. Business first. Cell phones. In case of an emergency are no doors this way. I want to thank you for coming. Gumball is a festival of things in process. You have a lot of new work. You have a lot of new ideas. Everything that's happening tonight is in a different stage of its developmental process. It's all moving forward to something else. So please recognize it as a moment in the light of this piece, not as a piece that is done. I want to thank you all for coming once again. I'd like to introduce Dave White. He's the artistic director of Word Words to talk a little bit about the plays. You're about to hear red. And a reminder, if this is all done, you're going to pass by some lovely people with hats. While we offer everything, we offer free to you. Nothing is free to us. So if you'd like to drop something in the hat on your way by, please do. Thank you very much. Good evening and welcome. This year's Gumball has a little bit of a theme that we've been working with. One of the things that became a great interest to Generous Company in the past year was some of the connections that are being made between neurobiology and art. It was a company that began thinking about this in a group of us and thought, it's nice and fun to talk about this in a small group of people, but what if we got a big group of people involved in this? So as our artistic director of Word Bridge, I thought what better group of people to approach about this than all the playwrights we've worked with over the years. Since 1994, Word Bridge has worked with over 70 playwrights developing 86 plays. So he sent emails out to all of these playwrights and said, hey, what kind of thinking about neurobiology in theater? Would you be interested in thinking about neurobiology in theater? We heard back from 18 of our playwrights and they agreed in one month to look at a prompt based on neurobiology. Sometimes it was a chapter from a book. Charlie Rose did a great series. So it may be an episode from that. And we asked him to write new plays based on something about neurobiology that inspired him. So what we have this evening are readings of three new plays that were written in the past 60 days by three Word Bridge playwrights. Our first piece that we're going to see this evening is Big Bots Beauty Queen by Will Fanter. We also have Psych Unseen by Kevin MacPhillan and Perception Play by Deborah Yarcho. So we're really thrilled to get to have these new plays this evening so the course of the whole festival we've been reading and presenting 19 new plays that are connecting neurobiology in theater. So it's a really exciting conversation. We're thrilled to have you here as part of it. Once those three plays have been read this evening, we have Deborah Yarchon will be signing in with us for a brief conversation from Iowa where she is finishing her graduate degree at the Iowa Playwrights Workshop. So stick around again with questions. She'll be happy to answer any questions you have and I think she may even have some questions for you. So we'll see how all of that works. So without further ado, I'm happy to pass you on to the very capable hands of the Word Bridge reading company and Mr. Bob Harris. So thank you very much. Big Will Fanter is a playwright located in Chicago, Illinois. We attended Word Bridge Playwrights Auditorium in 2009. Big Bots Beauty Queen, a play by Will Fanter. City of Parker, small and cluttered. The front door of the dishes in the knob in general has four more locks to fix to it. A large sheet of butcher paper sticks to one of the walls. On it is written, New Job. And underneath that, the cover. There's nothing next to standing. Another wall is a blown-up snap backing upside down to the middle of the wall. A bucket is written, This Is Your Mother. Matt will pace this and speak some time. Hello, uh, Stan? Stan, yeah, hi. Yeah, I'm real excited to start in, Bob. Excited to start in Pave, yeah. Yeah, so, do you mind if I ask you a favor? Uh, it might sound a little weird, but I promise I'll explain it tomorrow. It's a lot easier to get into it in person. So, okay. Uh, do you know what you're going to be, maybe you've got an idea of? I'm sorry. And I promise we'll get straight into it tomorrow. Is there, um, is there anybody else working there? Name Stan? Or anybody that kind of looks like you there? Like, same hair color, body type, age? Okay, good, good, good. Okay, great. I can't wait to start. Sorry, um, one more thing. I'm going to think of a phrase or something. I'm really not. When I see you tomorrow, just in case I, like, could you say, picnic elephants? Just say that. It's on a picnic. But don't say elephants on a picnic. Say it like I said the first time. Wait a second. Pick something funny. As it waits for the other end to pick up, we hear a thundering from behind the door. What did you say? Open the door. Please, just, what do you say? Knock him open this fucking door. Close the door. Come on, sir, close the door. Betty stands there. She carries a suitcase in one hand for the lockbox in the other. How long were you standing there? I don't know. Let me in. Where the hell were you yesterday? At my sister's. Your sister's? I can call her a verify on that? Fuck you, let me in. What do you say? Please, just say it. Jesus Christ, when you can hear my voice, you see my hair, but you know what I look like. Keep your hands off me. Don't back down. Why are you going to your sister's? You have to ask. I'm just worried. What do you think the government got me? Don't laugh at that. You know not laugh at that. That shit happens. I'm done with it all. I'm sorry. I'm sorry, I'm done. I just came to get the stuff I had over here. I can't anymore. I can't. The job's for a week and then gone. Guys, the only thing worse than the nights are the days. No, the websites and the theories. The petitions to the president. Jesus, you wouldn't even recognize the president who came from the stand-throwing front of you. He's black. Yeah, so is everybody. None of that is my fault. Some of it is. Enough of it for me to know that you're not trying hard enough to make this better. I'm sorry. I can't be strong enough and supportive in all that shit. I gave you goddamn shot, okay? That's more than I should have ever been asked for. Okay. Look at you. All self-righteous. Yeah. Now, let's all feel bad about you. Who tried living your life from inside someone else's head? That's all I fucking do. No. I won't get roped into this again. I'm getting my stuff from the bedroom. Just don't get in my way. He walks through the bedroom. He reaches around for it from behind. He can't do this. He pulls it close. He sticks it around. Don't leave it. It's too good. We're not. Please, don't put it in more. You can't help it. You know that. Yes, you can. Some things you can't do. You know good. It's so good. What do you mean? What's I mean? Don't blame me. You want this to work? I need your things from you. Anything. Go back to VA tomorrow. Tomorrow. First thing. I can't. You don't know. Yes, I do. It's a hospital. I trust a hospital. It doesn't crack locks. It's a government hospital. There's an agenda. There's always an agenda. You can't afford it anywhere else. It's done or nothing. You want me to stay there. What's your second? This. I'm sleeping with you. You've got no clothes in here. Only I have a key. Again. Is that what this is all about? All of this is about you putting guns in my head in the middle of the night. This wasn't my fault. Yes, it was. Having you gone under your bed is entirely your fault. Entirely your fucking fault that I don't have it. I don't put my life in that kind of danger. Why are you asking me to do this? Because I love you. Why are you asking? Because I love you. Why are you asking me to do this? I bet he knows what danger we're in. She understands that tyranny begins when they strip us of our arms. She could never ask me to do this. Who the fuck are you? I said who the fuck are you? Raps are approaching the ground. Fulls of pistol from under her shirt. What's that? Shut up! What do you know about it? Have you ever been scared of anything in your life? They don't risk me. I can't see everything but I can't recognize it. It's worse than if they've taken my goddamn eyes out. I didn't do anything wrong. It's what they've done. Plenty of my buddies took a bullet somewhere else and not one of them had this happen. They picked me. They picked me to stop me. And they made it so I can't see where it's right in front of me. My whole life is waiting for this goddamn trap to spring. You want to take my fucking gun from me? Not every goddamn head. See how you like it. Swamps to the floor next to any burst in the tears. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. He gathers himself up on the stands. Goes to the lock box and puts the pistol inside. Watches when she stands up. Eyes locked on each other. She locks the lock. I didn't call my work. I just got a little bit messy. I didn't tell that when she was in the bathroom. He taught us a story. Man, this is Malcolm. I'm supposed to start. Yeah, that's right. I'll have to pick him up. Yeah, so I'm sorry, but I can't come in tomorrow. Yeah, it just came out. It's real working like a doctor's appointment. I mean, it is a doctor's appointment. At a hospital. As he talks, Betty walks in front. He walks in through the bathroom. She's dressed the same. She can see clearly the viscous of different actors. He stares at her. We can see recognition fighting with confusion. She sees it too. Think of the CD Creative. Yeah, I'm still here. And play it. Our next playwright I think we have, Kevin McFillett, is a playwright and teacher based in Columbia, Missouri. He was previously a two-time regional body listener at the Kennedy Center's American College Unipressable, One-eyed competition, a national semi-finalist with a John Cowell-sort-of-play-order and a finalist with a high number. Sight on the scene, Henry played by Henry Cook. Harris, Henry, mid-fifties, owner of a failing magic shop. Eight, 12, a customer. Time, present day. Seven, Henry's store, Henry's house of magic. Lights up. Henry enters from backward, carrying several sealed cardboard boxes. He places them on the shop's counter. The shop is full of empty display cases, boxes labeled trash or stuff. He picks up a clipboard and checks off several items. Places of staggered, unloaded magic trick set in the box, checks off several more. After a moment, Henry enters from the shop's door, a small bell in the door. We're closed. Oh, there was no sign on the door. Sorry, we're still closed. But that's okay, I wasn't gonna buy anything anyway. Hey, he looks around the shop with his snake faces and several open boxes. Can I help you with something? No, I'm fine, thanks. I'm just looking. Well, if you wouldn't mind looking somewhere else, we're closed. The door was open. Yes, I can see that. But that doesn't mean the shop is open. We're out of business. But you've still got so much stuff. Exactly. What are you selling? Not enough. You know what I said, you were selling? Henry's house of magic. Magic? Like tricks and stuff? Like tricks and stuff, yes. Oh, can you show me one? Look, kid, I have a lot of merchandise to sort out. I need to cap on everything that's going back to the warehouse, being sold to other stores. It's just one, crazy. I wonder what these places are going out of business. This place is going out of business because of kids like you. Kids who come in and say, hey, show me something. Show me something I never buy, OK? I'm not here for your amusement. Now get out. Henry, kids, I should be hanging out with you. Wait, wait, look, look, I'm sorry, I'm sorry. Look, what if I buy something? Oh, like you've got to need money. I forgot. No, really, I'll buy something. Show me one trick, OK? Henry walks back to the counter, and disappears behind his place for a moment. When he emerges, he is holding a long silk scarf. One trick. And he represents the scarf. He pulls the scarf out to his full length. He makes a fist with one hand, and slowly pushes the scarf into the closed fist with the other. He shakes the fist like that, glows on it, and when he unclosest fingers, the scarf is gone. See? There's your watch. It's in your thumb. The scarf is in your fake thumb. And he grabs Henry's hand and moves it in the classic thumb, over his real one, and pulling out the scarf. Nice catch. Well, that was your trick. Now, what did you want to buy? That doesn't count. What? Hold on, that doesn't count. I was laying my finger down. Whether or not you buy with a trick wasn't a condition. You said, show me one trick, and you would buy something. If you're not going to buy something, then you can get up and let me get back to work. Look, there's no way that counts. It wasn't even magic. And what exactly do you think magic is? I don't know. Stuff appears, stuff disappears. Yes, and how exactly do you think that happens? Magic? I don't know. I don't know. You said it's Henry's house of magic, not Henry's house of fake thumbs. You know, little secrets. And some bone out of business anyway. You want to know the secret? Sure, I guess. Isn't it real? See anything? It's all perception, deception. It's all about getting the audience to look the other way while you're doing something else. You're watching one hand, right? When you should be watching the other. You're watching the scarf. You should be watching the fifth. I wasn't watching the scarf. Yeah, yeah, well, most people do. Don't you have like one good trick, one really good one? It was the first really, real trick I ever saw, actually. Only way I'll show you this trick though is if you buy it. I can't see it first. No, that's not the deal. I show you this trick you bought and then you leave, OK? Finally finding the correct moving box. He opens it moving a small card with a box, which he places on a counter in front of him. My own brother took me to the fair. He just wanted to smoke behind the grandstands and try to pick up girls. But my mom wouldn't let him go without taking me. Right off the main strip, past the corn dog vendor in the broke-out pinball machines, there was a smooth stall. I don't know whether the canvas had with a few tangles real. And aside, Jeffers' magic imported. All Jeffers, you gave him a quarter. He'd show you a trick. Over and over again, I defend my mom to make my brother take me to the fair. And I hope he did. All my quarters went into Jeffers' pocket. The last day, when I went to find him, old Jeffers was gone. I ran all over the place before I caught up with him, packed his stallow away in the back of something rusted out over there. I begged him, begged him to teach me, take me with him, like I could learn magic from him. Be a student. He said he couldn't. I'd have to learn on my own. He'd give me something to learn. Something that his teacher gave him, the source of all his powers, this old wooden box. But, he said, it could never be opened, or else all the magic would run out and be gone for good. It had to remain silencing if you wanted the magic to last. All I had to do, all I had to give him an exchange was all the money I had. And I gave it to him. Every second I had left, and what? And what's in the box? How should I know? I never opened it. Did you never open it? If I'd opened it, all the magic would have spilled out and you'd have lost forever. Why would I open it? How is that a magic trick? It's the greatest magic trick of all. He sold me a trick that can't be solved. You open the box, all the magic is gone. You leave the box closed, all the magic stays in there, same inside. It's even dumber than the first trick. Hey, hey. That's real magic for you. The box is full of magic only so long as this stays closed. Magic is about how you see things, not how things are. Maybe I could open the box and prove to you it's in there and then let it be gone. Disappears forever. And I'm stuck with something in the old box. But anyway, that's not my problem anymore. You tore it down, you bought it. This, yeah, this. Are you going to go back out on a deal? It's not even a magic trick, it's just trick me. Well, you asked for the best trick I had. All I did was show it to you. Now, fork over the cash. Ever said that Henry's house is a magic. I just hoped I'd really see something. I've taken this. Look, forget what I said, OK? Magic is real. I can prove it. One more trick, OK? Henry brought his fingers together slowly producing the coin. Real magic always costs a little something. Henry slaps the hand with the coin down the counter. When he moves his back his hand, the deck of cards has appeared. Henry hands Hank the deck for inspection. We haven't had so far. Henry takes back the deck, removes the cards from the box, and taps on the counter's glass cup. He places the deck on the counter and slowly begins rubbing the cards across the glass. One by one, the cards slowly pass through the glass and are seen dropping down into the counter's empty display case below. Did you do that one? That was magic. But I mean, how did you do? Seeing isn't believing that your box is the way out. Henry moves behind the counter and resumes checking items on this clip. Hank picks up the wooden box and begins to act. He stops and returns to the counter, which posits what little money he has. Hank exits. The light slowly fades, the ringing of the door spell fades out. Blackout and the clip. Finally, the player of the devourer's argument is in her final year of her MFA Iowa, where she is an Iowa art scholar. Her plays have been produced at the Philadelphia Furnished Festival, Theater Masters, and Off-Broadway at the Dumb Playwrights Festival. Her awards include the Kempley Center's Gene Kempley-Smith Award and the Richard Mulligan Playwright Award, Perception Play, and Experient by Deborah Yon. Time, July 17, 2011. Place, the mattress stack is in Pittsburgh. Characters, broke, 24, female. The figure in the dark, in darkness, broke seats. The room darkens even more. I have no sense of my space. It could be a small as a walking closet, or as vast as a vast dungeon, or a free lecture. And it sets. The light from the slide illuminates the space. Root sits in a chair. She's 24. She wears denim, her prettys, and a shirt. One first slash black satchel sits next to her. I'm alone. One installation, Museum of Pittsburgh. Insulation like every art museum in search of recent breakups. Art third one. The first time it was him, the last time it was me. I keep going back, which is why I'm here. I'm hoping in all this art, and the answer will appear. Also, it helps to be around other people. Mattress Factory is museum number 32. But well before I hit the dark for a while, I noticed something odd. Besides receptionist and woman at the cafe, there are no other people. No docents, no security guards. Like, there are more people at MoMA. Museum of mad art and denim of Massachusetts. Go ahead and write in the conversation. Here, as I wander into the space, I take a lot of photos. Mattress Factory has all kinds of spaces, but the YouTube self-reflection, all this one, perception play. I'm standing or lying on the floor. The image is the perfect cradle to James Burrell, the crafter of my next experiences. Turrell is the master of playing with the audience's perceptions. See, his cute floating face, if you step closer, it's revealed to be just light, projected on the wall. Turrell is like this electromagnetism. Exhibit I enter is pitch black, it's called Clea's. The pamphlet outside the door warms. Clea's is a dark piece where the realm of night vision touches the realm of the eye's closer vision. Where the scene that comes from out there merges with the scene that comes from in here, where the scene develops over and through dark adaptation, but continues beyond it. Maybe six meters long into a pool. No, not so much a pool, as a space. The space where you have no sense of space. You sit in a chair, and you stare into total darkness. And for 15 minutes, until your eye adjusts, and then you see it, whatever you're supposed to see. Bam, it forms on a wall, like this galactic guillotine. So there are some kind of light here. And I think this is it. This is where it all comes clear. I enter the darkness. There's a chair. I enter railing and silence. I'm the only patron at the museum about two minutes past. And silent breathing. I'm thinking maybe it's part of the exhibit, right? Terrell focuses on light, how the town. Breathing. Thank you, but I'm the same. Not enough to see the thing I came to see in front of me, but that's still 10 minutes away, but in the corner to the right, I see this round form that appears to be a new light that turns on. With the 5 or 6 you can wake up. There's a figure in the dark, close to the hallway. He sits on a chair. The breathing grows louder. The figure in the dark reaches into this quote with his love to hands. It pulls out a sign and holds it to the audience. Open the note that takes beneath your chair. This time, please open the note that takes beneath your chair. Stranger, I'd go for my phone. I feel as if my eyes will never adjust. In nine minutes, I will see. I'm fine. We'll try to turn our light on. Ready to laugh at my battery. On the floor, I was standing a lot on the floor. I was standing a lot on the floor. This is not what Terrell intended it to be. The figure stands. The broke, broke, 80 more gumption stands. She moves towards the center of the stage. So is the thing. They stand close. Several of us apart perhaps. They don't touch. They breathe in the same rhythm as this. All in a state. Breathe, a flash is through my mind. Good idea of time. You just send it to the run. Eyes here. Alone is I've been in. Actually, this is the only one there. I'm not alone. The nominees are also the most romantic. Change you. With each of the following slides, the figure moves closer. There's this thing that I need about echo chambers. A chamber made to block all sound. They use it to test things like the sound displays on cell phones. And if you sit in an alleyway from the chamber with the absence of noise, you can hear yourself. You become the sound. You tune into the sound of the blood, and the veins, and the heart, the inner part of my thick chamber. But in the darkness, I start to hear the sounds of our hearts beating. The sound of a heartbeat, or perhaps two in sync. The rushing in my ears. By now, I know, whatever it is, it's close. So close, it must feel the vibrations in my heart. The sound of my blood freezing. The moment I told you this hope is good ever and well. And I know what you're going through. That if you're in the hallway of all that's between me and the exit then. That even if these eyes have already adjusted, they can probably hold. Instead, I know there's probably a new form in the felt I meet. Somewhere in Arizona, in the rainy desert, we're all in a crater. Two miles wide. As I sit in this dark exhibit, he's building a massive escalation that uses natural light. He's standing in the light. He's standing in the light on the floor. He's waiting to know there's something missing. And it's just a bit of a vision. That thing, that maybe, maybe. Oh, wait, I see. I sure, I, it is in possible shapes, paintings. Ever made me fall in love with art. Almost 15 minutes in. Form on the wall. As I finally adjust it. The light suddenly increases with the power. He knows we're on the way to the platform. On the floor below, there's a dumb rapper. In front of me on the wall, there's a great shape. Not a galaxy. Not the answers to my life. The floor is gray. On the side. The light's out. Part of the hall is a simple space. The figure is no longer behind her. The seat next to her is empty. The space behind her is open. The sheet is alone. This factory, I've passed the insulation by Harry Piles. Then my reception is laying my act. The light is blinding. A cat from a house is on the lawn. I think of Harry Piles' compilation. I don't think about how those who dream can also dream of monsters. The answer to my visual rhythm, by the way, on the floor. But it sure looks like it should be again. And her perception, by the way. So I want to give a big thanks to Will Manning, Alex Weinberg, Charles Bartowley, Jen Aronson, and Michelle Beth Hed, Bob Harris. I hope you enjoy reading each other together this evening. And we really appreciate all the time that you all put in this incredible space here. To give you a little bit of an idea, one of the little fun things that we have been playing is getting different.