"She sat on the stage in a tank top and flesh-colored spandex shorts, snapping rubber bands against her arms and legs. She muttered self-deprecating comments while her 12-year-old sister, Shoshana, braided her hair. “I sleep too much!” “I’m weak!” “I’m useless!” The intensity of her self-loathing took us to a vulnerable, often unexamined, place. The muttering slowly graduated into panic as Shoshana weaved her way through the room whispering to the audience before rejoining her sister. While Caldas cried, Shoshana gently reminded her, “You’re enough.” The piece was a gut-wrenching display of the cruelty women show themselves regularly." -Amy Stufflebeam, See more at: http://www.artsatl.com/2015/12/downtown-players-club-ladies-first/#sthash.4RHH0EUF.dpuf
This work is about the ways we talk to ourselves and the harshness we inflict on our own worlds. It’s about the space generously given to others that we fail to make for ourselves. It’s about the kind voices whispered, heard, and ignored. It’s about the violent certainty of the bad and the timid uncertainty of the good. It’s the balance of all of this with the slow unlearning of it.
