Jeffrey Newman (photo by Martin Gibbons)
Reviewed by Deborah Klugman
The Lee Strasberg institute
Through March 2
RECOMMENDED
While it may be in the nature of human beings to wrestle with self-doubt (perhaps not universally, but in this capitalist culture, for sure), relatively few of us make our uncertainties the launchpad for public performance. Exceptions to this rule, of course, include writers and performers – in particular, those drawn to the format of a one-person show. Jeffrey Newman is one such individual; Blank Canvas, his current solo turn, comes with the uncommon feature of having his work as a visual artist incorporated into his performance.
The venue for Blank Canvas is a long, narrow, high-ceilinged space at the Lee Strasberg Institute, where the black walls and rear of the proscenium feature an array of abstract paintings. Center stage, on an easel, is a pristine white canvas that Newman will later invite several audience members to paint on. Near the beginning of his somewhat rambling discourse, Newman tells us that he started painting around 20 years ago, overcoming his initial inhibitions after he started hearing the word “pussy” emanate in a whispering hiss from the canvas itself.
The chronicle he shares with his listeners ranges from his childhood through his young manhood to his now vigorous middle age. Besides his engagement with visual art, we learn about his relationship with his dad (not great), his mom (quite excellent), and his various struggles to get to like and accept himself. Mention is made of the challenges of being a standard guy in a culture celebrating the alpha male ideal. One of the more specific and humorous — and threatening — threads in his show has to do with the experience on internet dating. We also become privy to Newman’s history of romantic relationships with women, which is sparse and, if you’re a seeker of love, less than encouraging.
Unlike other self-chroniclers, Newman doesn’t start at the beginning and progress towards an ending or climax but moves in a circular manner (his show could lose ten or 15 minutes). And a lot of what he talks about isn’t anecdotal or a description of events so much as him letting us know how he feels about things, his vulnerabilities and challenges as a human being. At some point you think: This might easily have turned into a whine-fest but — it hasn’t. Directed by Jana Lee Hamblin, Newman manages to avoid that pitfall mainly due to his ironical straightforwardness and one’s sense that he really is talking to the people he’s talking to, rather than delivering some pre-packaged circuitous biopic.
When I booked my ticket, I was advised to wear old clothes that I wouldn’t mind having splattered with paint, which (reluctantly) I did. But (whew!) there was no splattering during the performance. Instead, following curtain, Newman invited everyone into another space for a few nibbles and their personal shot with paint and canvas. Not my thing and I headed home — but most others in the audience availed themselves of this opportunity to freely explore their potential in the world of art.
The Lee Strasberg Institute, 7936 Santa Monica Blvd., W. Hollywood; Fri.-Sat., 7:30 pm, Sun., 5 pm; thru March 2. blankcanvastheshow.com Running time: approximately 75 minutes with no intermission.
