Albee, Ruehl, and Nevelson Converge
 Carol Rosegg
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(6/18/2008) Over the past year, rumors have been circulating of an unusual convergence of forces in the universe. The rumors go something like: “The earth is spinning faster on its axis” or “The planets are aligned as never before” or “There is a convergence of inexplicable cosmic phenomena.”
No one seems to have an answer as to what these forces are, what are these convergences.
In Manhattan, in a small theater called the Peter Norton Space, on the far western end of 42nd Street, there is a convergence of dramatic forces, a manifestation of what could indeed be an example of these cosmic phenomena. It is called “Edward Albee’s Occupant.”
Mr. Albee, who lives in Montauk, has a body of works that looms as a universe unto itself — of Pulitzer Prizes, Tony Awards, and more. On this occasion he has added to that impressive sphere a small play of extraordinary power interpreted by one of today’s finest actresses, Mercedes Ruehl, to bring back to life the great sculptor Louise Nevelson.
The equation of “Albee plus Ruehl equals Nevelson” is undeniably a convergence of three powerful forces. In two short hours, under the direction of Pam MacKinnon for the Signature Theater Company, this combination yields an intimate, confounding, and explosive examination of one of the art world’s most lionized women.
Albee plus Ruehl presents a woman known to the world as much for her big, bold sculptural installations as for her own undeniable and statuesque arrival in a room, any room.
Larry Bryggman shares the stage with Ms. Ruehl as the Man. The actor is given the seemingly thankless role of the interviewer of this great woman, but his role is not small, as he is the valued catalyst in this dramatic experiment.
He questions her, he cajoles her, he frustrates her in much the same way the male-dominated art world of the 1930s challenged and changed Leah Berliawsky, from the young Russian immigrant Jew who would reluctantly become a wife and a mother before her conversion into Louise Nevelson, the struggling artist who wandered for years for recognition and acceptance.
Ms. Ruehl truly embodies the Nevelson persona, the tall, big-boned woman who struggled with being “an immigrant Jew . . . raised in a family that scrapes its way up from poverty to . . . respectability and eventually even some affluence; you’re raised with these values, you marry . . . up into a wealthy upper-crust Jewish world.”
As reincarnated by Mr. Albee, Nevelson channeled by Ms. Ruehl shares with us the discomforts of these expected roles of mother, wife, and lady of the art world.
Challenged by Mr. Bryggman from the opening moments, the actress becomes as contrary as Nevelson herself. Ms. Nevelson died in 1988, and the Man is reintroducing her to the audience, pronouncing her “Louise Nevelson, great American sculptor.”
To which she surprisingly asks, “People don’t know who I am? You have to introduce me? People don’t know who I am?”
And he retorts: “You’re not as . . . recognizable now as you were. Yes! People who know you know you.”
Under the Albee dramatic microscope and in the typical taut language of an Albee-an script, we watch as the Man re-presents this woman whose larger-than-life presence belied the troubled life she led. He pulls out the rumors of numerous extramarital affairs, a troubled relationship with her son, bouts of alcoholism and depression.
Some of his accusations and statements she contests, some they briefly debate. He accuses her of making things up; she barks back her own version of the story.
All of this dramatic to-and-fro suddenly turns to a moment of discovery when Ms. Nevelson visits an exhibit of Japanese Noh robes. Upon seeing the intricate designs, the delicacy of the work, the embroidery of the fabrics, she is brought to tears and tells the Man that upon seeing those robes, “I knew and I said . . . oh my God, life is worth living.”
The real Louise Nevelson was renowned for adopting this type of dress and making it her trademark style of personal presentation. In these robes, it is revealed, her confidence emerged and she began to “occupy that space” in life she had wandered in search of for over 27 years.
While the script is spartan and the details few, the story is told of a frustrated artist having show after show with different and indifferent galleries and dealers and never selling a single painting, sculpture, or sketch.
She recounts how in total frustration she burned all the unsold works, gave her tools away, and gave up. But moments of sadness, rejections, failures of acceptance would soon be replaced as the Nevelson space would emerge in her mind and eventually be “occupied.”
As told by Ms. Ruehl, in slowly delivered lines with a pathos and feeling that only a great actress can conjure from her character, we learn of the discovery of the numerous wooden objects Nevelson began to find in the streets of Manhattan. Her palette became a collection of the found chairs, pieces of cast-off wood, and wooden boxes.
Eventually, this collection of clutter strewn about her apartment came to be mounted on walls, creating formidable, dramatic installations rising from the floor mightily and embracing viewers’ attention. Many of these survive today as testament to the struggles of a woman who loved, lost, and fought, but in the end “occupied” her ultimate “space.”
The denouement of this chamber drama at the Peter Norton Space comes midway through Act II. In sharing this moment with you, I assure you I am not giving away a thing.
The Louise Nevelson who lived and circulated in Manhattan art circles of the 1970s and ’80s was frequently photographed and increasingly recognized. Confident, carrying herself in the same regal style, wearing the double layers of sable eyelashes and those signature grand Noh gowns, Mercedes Ruehl becomes Louise Nevelson as she steps to the back of the stage, raises her arms, and signals a back scrim to fall, revealing a wall — a Nevelson wall.
The wing-to-wing collage, from ceiling to floor, is one of the most recognizable of those Nevelson installations — pieces of wood of all shapes and sizes, some of black, some of white, some of gold. Of varying textures and heft, the collage of such a mass captures the eye and embodies that bold “occupation” Ms. Nevelson had sought for so long.
It is indeed the convergence of desire, determination, and strength — an occupation.
The production has been extended to July 13.