ALFRED STIEGLITZ LOVES O’KEEFFE
at the Synergy Center
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The love that grew between them overcame a lot of obstacles over the course of its 30 years. Though Stieglitz supported women’s rights, he could be a tyrant in and out of bed. And it didn’t take long before his energy threatened as much as inspired O’Keeffe; she needed to cultivate an inner stillness corresponding to the serenity of her New Mexico landscapes and whitewashed skulls.
Robertson’s well-researched play draws on the letters Stieglitz and O’Keeffe exchanged during their long separations. In scenes that traverse the years between 1916 and 1946, the playwright covers a lot of ground; allusions abound to O’Keeffe’s jealousy, her artistic rivalry with the critic and painter Marsden Hartley, her temporary desire for a child (an urge Stieglitz wisely predicted would distract from her art), Stieglitz’s obsessive way of photographing her from every angle, her anger at being qualified by his colleagues as merely a woman painter. Played for all its minimal humor is O’Keeffe’s indignation at the critics who pointed out the erogenous symbolism of her flower paintings. Yes, Robertson has assembled all the ingredients.
As the Mozart lover, Patrick Brooks exudes the smug charm of a pretty boy used to getting his own way. Throwing modesty and everything but her dress to the winds, P.K. Doyle plays the nymphomaniacal earth-mother wife as if she were Roseanne Barr overdosing on aphrodisiacs. Mark Czoske as the neurotic “head of the line,” Karen Hammer as the expert in manipulation, and Mark Boyle as the repressed husband provide solid stereotypes. They all get wonderfully out of line.
