solo shows

This filly doesn’t flinch

After the runaway success of 'Asking for It,' Adrienne Truscott's 'One Trick Pony' is a return to her performance-artist roots.

You’ve probably heard this said of zoos: When you think you’re watching the animals, they are also watching you. Watching performance artists can be like that, too—particularly, watching Adrienne Truscott.

In her one-woman show A One Trick Pony, Truscott—who starts off dressed as a bare-buttocked horse and proceeds to admit one of her performance goals is to be present “like a dog”—is certainly the sort of animal who doesn’t mind putting her watchers as well as herself on the spot.

Adrienne Truscott – One Trick Pony

The U.S. premiere of Pony, presented by Boom Arts, was part of Truscott’s gradual and voluntary comedown following a meteoric rise to comedy fame—an odd detour, she admits, for an already seasoned performance artist. Her 2013 creation Asking For It, “a rape about comedy” in which she played a pantsless comedian character telling rape jokes, and won some performing arts prizes before vaulting from fringe festivals onto mainstream comedy stages—pantsless, no less. There, she got a mixed reception, earning raves from the likes of Chris Rock and The Guardian, but balking under a new level of public scrutiny (the kind comedians, not performance artists, typically get) and often feeling the need to defend her performance choices—including showing her “much maligned vagina.”


Wong Street Journal’s #funnysocialjustice

Kristina Wong makes a funny discovery: America's "minority" is Africa's "mzungu"

“The Ugly American” may be the popular phrase for unseemly American behavior abroad, but wouldn’t another term be apter? How about the clueless American? The overeager American? The dorky American?

In Wong Street Journal, Kristina Wong self-awarely personifies all of these traits as she first recounts her sense of state-side alienation as a Chinese American, then describes a journey that took her much further out of her element: a volun-tourism trip to Uganda that she took after realizing that several years as a solo performing artist depicting mental illness (in Wong Flew Over thekristinawong_wongstreetjournal Cuckoo’s Nest) had sucked her into a selfie spiral.

To say too much about Wong’s particular experiences abroad is to spoil her storytelling’s best surprises; suffice to say there’s nary a dull moment. She cheerleads, snarks, sings, dances, and stocks the stage (pun!) with an abundance of soft-sculpture visual aids representing the Western economics and technology that hold the world in their thrall. She’s sewn the props and set pieces herself, and to spell out her ancestral connection to the world’s Asian sweat shop laborers, she opens the show by deadpanning the audience while feeding a huge bolt of dollar-print fabric through a sewing machine. Her main medium, felt, also deftly conveys her message. As a teaching tool, felt helps soften and simplify the elements in a story, just like Wong’s humor softens and simplifies the hard-edged implications of empire and exploitation. Indeed, Americans’ impact on the world should be felt—not just by the impacted abroad, but also by us. In the intermission-less span of 90 or so minutes, Wong draws us through three phases of her life: pre-, during-, and post-Africa.


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