Salome opens March 13th at The Right Brain Project!

art below by Joseph Ramski

Salome Headshot

This one has been an interesting process for me, seeing how I am the Movement Director, Choregrapher, and playing Herodias. I think I might be a little exhausted. We’re all working our tails off for it, there is even an all original score by Trevor Watkins. We might all be a little exhausted.

Other things on the horizon:
I’m headed to Columbus, OH in May to culminate (for the time being) a two year outreach project headed by playwright Nicola McCartney hand in hand with Rachel’s House, a women’s recovery community in Columbus, Ohio. Through professional actors, the women tell their stories of leaving the criminal justice system and the difficult transition back to their communities while battling addiction and hopelessness.


My First Chicago Review…

Richard III

“Rabensburg gives perhaps the most nuanced performance of the night. As the mother, watching her son turn on all those close to him and unable to stop him, she gives a performance that is heart breaking.”

Anuja Vaidya, Chicago Theatre Beat

I’ve Been Away

I’m moving, again.
So I’ve been neglecting writing. I’ve built some things and taught some classes, but very little writing.
I tried to think of someone I wanted to quote and came up empty.

So you have to suffer through another one of mine…


virgin/whore, I’m never both
never one the same
either worshiped like the eternal child
or touched with naught but shame

men splay me on their pinning board
pinned through, bare souled I’m lain
or my sweetness causes virgin thoughts
and my heat is all in vain

can’t people both make love and fuck?
I feel choosing one’s a bore
love me like the virgin please
but every now and then, the whore

Les Demoiselles d’Avignon by Pablo

Semi-crummy poem by me

Photo of beautiful painting of beautiful whores by me

Theft of Hope

Thief with Good Taste

Hope is the thing with feathers
That perches in the soul,
And sings the tune–without the words,
And never stops at all,

And sweetest in the gale is heard;
And sore must be the storm
That could abash the little bird
That kept so many warm.

I’ve heard it in the chillest land,
And on the strangest sea;
Yet, never, in extremity,
It asked a crumb of me.

“Hope” by Emily Dickinson

“Woman” by Antonio Mancini

Theft of Meaning and Beauty
“Photo of Woman” by Me

%d bloggers like this: