This play is a reflection on the (im)possibility of accepting diversity and the other. The fragmented body of the neoplasm—the fruit of unstable conditions—overcomes barriers, loves and denies itself and others, wanders around, forgetting its profession. It frequently and with pleasure divides, goes through dangerous palpation, questions the possibility of contact with the experience of the other. Poorly brought up but very successful, it invites us to a trans-species transition.
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A robot created to communicate, interact and tell stories.
Artist Statement
Once I made a robot. It was a good robot. It spun around; some things moved; there were blinking lights; it made noises. I liked the robot. I took the robot out in public, where it met other people. It tried to regale them with tales of intrigue and suspense. Unfortunately, none of these other people were intrigued or suspended. After much soul searching, the robot said, (roughly translated - i.e. guessed from the beepian), "I seem to lack any ability to relate to other humans. It’s as if they don’t even realize that I’m trying to tell them stuff. I need some surgery." So, I offered to try giving him an empathy implant. He said, "bloop," which I took to mean, "ok."
