Mosaic’s ‘The Art of Care’ is Exactly What We Need
The endearing ensemble of Mosaic's "The Art of Care" delivers a frank, graceful, and refreshing expression of care and empathy.
As if theater performers didn’t already expose several dimensions of themselves onstage, even while in the guise of fictional roles, Mosaic’s world-premiere The Art of Care demands an extra degree of emotional and individual nakedness rarely required of actors.
No one in the cast has to strip down, per se, but each member of the seven-person ensemble bares intimate glimpses at some of their own most vulnerable, even painful moments. Conceived and directed by Derek Goldman, The Art of Care was developed with its cast, who weave oral storytelling, dramatic scenes, songs, and movement into a warm tapestry of testimony, both to the caregivers in their lives, and to the care they’ve given.
They also perform the testimony of caregivers who were interviewed for the play. The result, a free-wheeling carousel of vignettes and interludes that cohere into a fulfilling, enriching experience, employs every aspect of theater craft and community to serve the message of sharing empathy, especially with those in suffering.
The prevailing tone is earnest and positive, a little kumbaya, reflected in the sepia-toned lighting and the set design straight out of a coffeehouse, with the couch and rug to match.
Before the show begins, the actors, recognizable as some of D.C. theater’s most admired, mingle among the audience, taking notes from them on the caregivers in their lives. We’re all in this together, according to The Art of Care, none divided. This show celebrates “interdependence over independence,” we’re told, and the stories and performances effectively illustrate the point.
Musician Jabari Exum initiates that sense of interdependence by getting everyone in the house on beat (hopefully), imparting the bass, tone, and clap components of the djembe sound. Following his musical greeting, each actor introduces themselves and invites us into their world.
Taking turns as they range around Misha Kachman’s versatile set — augmented by Zavier Augustus Lee Taylor’s apt projections behind them — actors Susan Rome, Billie Krishawn, Tom Story, Raghad Makhlouf, Tuyết Thị Phạm, and William T. Newman recount births and deaths, divorces, illnesses, war and revolution, professional triumphs and setbacks, and artistic inspiration.
One moving sequence discusses adult children caring for aging, ailing moms, while in another, a cancer center doctor, portrayed by Rome, discovers the soothing effect of live music on her patients. The cast takes on the roles of various doctors and nurses sounding off on the bullshit they endure in order to deliver care.
Rome enthralls, speaking of dealing with illness, divorce, and caring for her child as a single mom, and being advised, as a form of self-care, to lean into the intense feelings that adversity produced. Krishawn recalls a period of collective adversity, and passing lines for face masks on her way to this very theater to rehearse Mosaic’s Till Trilogy, which would be postponed for nearly two years due to the COVID pandemic.
Story reckons, he says, that the experience of performing Prior Walter in Angels in America — excerpts of which he delivers brilliantly here — helped prepare him for the effects of our most recent pandemic.
Several of the stories refer specifically to that moment when we all needed care. While reliving it, even vicariously, might be a prospect that holds little appeal to some, the company takes us back without resorting to maudlin reminiscences. Rather, the cast makes it feel fresh and urgent — the immediacy of presenting their own experiences every show to a different crowd of strangers probably helps keep it fresh.
And each cast member gets a moment, if not several, to command the room, which they all do ably, including drummer Exum, who punctuates dramatic beats with percussion, and shares his own story of caring for a goddaughter through music.
On the whole, remarkably upbeat given the subjects at hand, The Art of Care extracts meaningful truth from its combination of sources and formats. And the artists indeed render care in bravely sharing intimate aspects of their humanity so that we might connect so directly with them, others, and ourselves.
The Art of Care (★★★★☆) runs through Nov. 24 at the Atlas Performing Arts Center, 1333 H St. NE. Tickets are $42 to $78, with discount options for each performance. Call 202-399-7993, ext. 2 or visit www.mosaictheater.org.
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