The paint under my fingernails…

…is from an evening spent “sprucing up” the Black Dahlia Theatre, where I currently work as the Literary Manager. Since it’s a small operation, the job also involves pitching in in other ways, such as striking the set, or tonight’s mission: to get the place into shape for an upcoming photo shoot for the Los Angeles Times. They’re going to be including the theatre in a feature on unusual theatre spaces around L.A.

If the Black Dahlia Theatre is truly unusual, I don’t think it’s because of the space. Los Angeles has plenty of intimate storefront black boxes, it’s one of the things that makes this city still a relatively affordable place to produce theatre. What makes the Dahlia different, that its productions are unusually good. It may be an eclectic crew of misfits, producing theatre after hours for no money in a space the size of your living room, but the company never uses that as an excuse to compromise on quality: of performances, direction, design, or scripts.

It’s pretty great to be a part of it. So much so that I really don’t mind going by to slap on a fresh coat of black paint on a Monday night, while drinking Miller HiLife and listening to electronica through the sound system. Goodness it’s great to be back home.


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