_As it is the season of listmaking, I thought I’d pitch in. This is not a best-of list and it will not include Charlie Sheen or Kim Kardashian. It’s just a run-down of my own most memorable theatre-related moments of 2011.

Of course I didn’t see enough theatre, I never do. I didn’t make it to a single Broadway show this year, in fact I missed tons of good stuff all over town. I didn’t even get to see the amazing Bobby Moreno in anything, and as much work as he did in 2011, there’s really no excuse.

But here’s the (very personal, highly subjective) list.

Doric Wilson (February 24, 1939 – May 7, 2011). I was lucky enough to perform in three plays by the legendary Doric Wilson this year. Sadly, 2011 was also the year that saw the indomitable playwright, leatherman, and raconteur pass on. I did a TOSOS reading of his The West Street Gang, and then performed an excerpt from A Perfect Relationship at Doric’s birthday tribute in March. He asked, no, demanded that I play Seymour in the annual Pride performance of Street Theatre, and I was thrilled to do so. Unfortunately, Doric wasn’t there to see it. Still, his presence remains undeniable, and being asked to speak at his memorial service was one of the great honors of my life. Thank you Mark Finley for making it all happen.

Doric’s exit was preceded by that of his fellow playwright and Caffe Cino alum, the great Lanford Wilson (April 13, 1937 – March 24, 2011) and by La Mama founder Ellen Stewart (November 7, 1919 — January 13, 2011). Lanford’s memorial service at the Lyceum was one of the greatest theatrical events I’ve ever attended, as funny and moving and inspiring as any of his plays. And while I only met Ms.Stewart once, like so many other downtown performers, I loved her and cherish her legacy.

All three were major inspirations for me. Now for the fun stuff:

Unforgettable shows:

David Adjmi’s Elective Affinities starring Zoe Caldwell, produced by Soho Rep, piece by piece, and Rising Phoenix Rep. I was at once unnerved and enchanted. More here. 

Dael Orlandersmith’s Horsedreams at Rattlestick Playwrights Theatre. There’s a lot I could tell you about plays and heroin, since I’ve done a lot of both. But I’m just gonna say this show kicked my ass and pushed all my buttons in the best possible ways. Profound, provocative, dangerous, disturbing…and accurate. Take it from a middle-class white boy who used to cop dope in Harlem.

Anthony Johnston’s Tenderpits at Under St. Marks.This totally bizarre, weirdly sexy, one-wizard tour-de-force took me by complete surprise. Written and performed by one insanely talented diaper-clad Canadian, Tenderpits was one of the funniest and, well, most tender shows I’d seen in years. I don’t even know how to explain it. There’s drunken moose and ass glitter and a breakdown of Chekhov that had me rolling, as well as a very personal story about love and sex and art and justice, and discovering the magic of New York City, even if you are ‘poor as fuck.’ Johnston is a wonder.

And Taylor Mac's The Walk Across America For Mother Earth at LaMaMa. Of course.

It was year of amazing performances. A few of my favorites:

Alex Hurt as Hamlet in a four-person version called Elsinore at NYU. It is amazing what just four actors can do with some plastic sheeting, an umbrella, a bathtub and some major balls.

Gillian Lindig in Purge at LaMama. Holy crap.

Max Rhyser and Spenser Genesy in Dan Fingerman’s The Austerity Of Hope. Hotness.

Nick Lawson in Squealer. Holy crap and hotness.

David Drake filling in for Charles Busch in The Divine Sister. Not to mention Alison Fraser and Julie Halston. Geniuses, all.

Susan Barnes Walker in Duncan Plaster’s The Wastes Of Time.

Carolyn Baeumler and Jenny Seastone Stern in The Germ Project at New Georges.

Jacqueline Sydney and Tyler Lea in Ethos Perfroming Arts’ The Family Room. I also have to mention Jackie’s wonderful performances in my play Blood Grass at the Sam French fest, and in two readings of The Jamb.

But for me the year belonged to Laura Ramadei. Her performances in Lesser America’s Squealer, Boomerang’s Much Ado About Nothing in Central Park, and Jennie Berman Eng’s Exit Carolyn at The Drilling Company were each so complex, so rich, so funny, and so brave. I’m just astonished by what Ramadei does, every time, and by how effortless it seems. In addition to being an amazing actor, Laura also happens to be a phenomenal fight director.

Also...
I saw and heard some pretty awesome theatre design this year. Most memorably – Dust at The Ontological, Now The Cats With Jewelled Claws at LaMama, Woodshed Collective’s The Tenant, New George’s The Germ Project, and Janie Bullard’s amazing sound for Lake Water at the IRT.

I acted in a ton of readings involving varying degrees of staging this year. Most memorable were Kathleen Warnock’s That’s Her Way with the exquisite Danielle Quisenberry, and Chris Weikel’s Secret Identity in which I played a superhero invented by a bullied gay teenager. As with all of Weikel’s wildly inventive stuff, it was a blast. I even got kissed by a cute twenty-three year old!

Both Warnock and Weikel have studied at the ruby-booted feet of Tina Howe. I count myself very blessed to be one of ‘the players’ for Tina’s MFA playwriting class at Hunter College. It’s given me the opportunity to play some extraordinary roles in exciting new plays by six astonishingly gifted playwrights. Without a doubt, some of my favorite moments of 2011 happened in that alternately freezing cold / stiflingly hot fifth floor classroom at Hunter.

Plays I just can’t stop thinking about:

Micheline Auger’s The Feminism Of A Soft Merlot or How The Donkey Got Punched. I attended two readings of this remarkable and timely new play, and they did more for me than most full productions would. Auger makes the F-word dirty and dangerous once again. Feminism I mean. Being a man, I am going to doltishly proclaim Micheline's work both smart and sexy – wow! -  and hope that my doing so inspires her to write another scathing indictment of the intrinsically misogynistic raunch culture that has lately ruled our nation. She’s not bad…for a girl.

Emily DeVoti’s The Upstart at Rising Phoenix Rep’s Cino Nights. This bare-bones series of one-off performances of new plays continues to amaze the lucky few audience members who pack the tiny basement theatre at Jimmie’s No.43. DeVoti’s play is inspired by the true story of Brigid Hitler, Irish kin to, yes, that Hitler, and takes a hard look at our connections to history, to racism and gentrification, and the ways in which our little choices become consequential. Actors Edward Carnevale, Julie Kline, and Anne O’Sullivan were phenomenal in a smart, disturbing, unforgettable play.

Locker 4173B by Christopher Borg and Joey Rizzolo, produced by New York Neo-Futurists at The Monkey. This show totally blew me away. Borg and Rizzolo purchased the contents of a couple of storage lockers with the aim a creating a play inspired by whatever they happened to find. They got more than they bargained for, and so did I. Like urban archeologists, they unearth and piece together the fragmented evidence of some very real lives, and create a stunning socio-economic snapshot of today’s America. As the Indiana Joneses of New York performance art, the pair are hysterically funny. But Borg and Rizzolo also ask some hard questions about art, family and cultural identity. Locker 4173B was at once clever and incredibly heartwrenching, and deserves a longer run at some museum-theatre hybrid space. More New Yorkers should see this.

And my own stuff:

Furbelow. First there was a staged reading by a cast of fifteen amazing actors at the Hard Sparks launch party. Then a workshop by The Inkwell at Woolly Mammoth in DC. And a reading directed by Rose Lamoureax in Bridgeport. Too bad it would cost 20K just to costume this fucker.

Shiny Pair Of Complications at Fresh Fruit. Under the direction of Robert o Cambeiro, actors Marc Castle and Wayne Henry turned my sweet little gay marriage comedy into something really moving. Thanks, guys.

Eightythree Down. My play, directed by dynamo Daniel Talbott, performed by four of the bravest and most dynamic actors I’ve ever known, Melody Bates, Ian Holcomb, Bryan Kaplan, and Brian Miskell. This was Hard Sparks’ first full length production and a remarkable experience for me on every level. Working with Daniel aka Dantasia aka T-bott was challenging and inspiring and loads of fun. He moves people to want to do more and to be more, myself included, and I am so grateful to him for pushing me to push myself as both a playwright and a producer. The dude directed something like 700 shows this year, and I am certain that everyone he worked with would speak glowingly of his dedication and generosity. I sure do. And the fearless foursome who performed my play were not only insanely talented and hard-working, but also some of the kindest and most genuine individuals I’ve known. Dear Melody, Ian, Bryan, and Queerbait, thank you a thousand times for giving so much of yourselves to the insanity of Eightythree Down. I also have to thank the greatest stage management team in the history of downtown theatre, Bertie Michaels and Alex Mark: Books, hooray!

The Jamb. With Jonathan Warman at the healm, we did two readings of my gay coming of middle-age play, one for TOSOS’ Chesley-Chambers series, and the other as a Hard Sparks event. Both times I was filled with gratitude for playmates Hunter Gilmore, Jackie Sydney, and Aaron Tone. Here’s hoping for a full production in 2012!

As we look toward new projects in 2012, I’ll leave you with some inspiring words from a man whose centennial was celebrated this past year:

Make voyages! –Attempt them! –there’s nothing else…  - Tennessee Williams, Camino Real

Alternatively: Gorgeous Torture, or, "I love the smell of White Shoulders in the morning."

In David Adjmi’s Elective Affinities, a resplendent Zoe Caldwell as Mrs. Alice Hauptmann welcomes guests into a beautifully appointed parlor as a Chanel-clad spider might a fan club of flies. It's not merely a show but an afternoon tea, gorgeously produced by Soho Rep, piece by piece, and Rising Phoenix Rep. It was absolutely one of the highest lights of my 2011.

‘Staged’ in a brownstone on the Upper East Side, this is sight-specific performance at its most intimate. There was some wonderful, powerful, alternatively-spaced stuff this year - The Tenant and Sleep No More especially. Complete with Earl Grey and candied ginger, Elective Affinities appears on the more naturalistic side of that spectrum, delightfully so.

Alice’s house is gorgeous, of course. Crystal. Lilies. Nineteenth century portraiture and an appropriately somber staff to take your coat and serve your tea. You’re also greeted by an enormous abstract sculpture, black and roiling, that I’d liken to a giant lava foot. It dominates a mahogany-paneled living room, dwarfing a marble fireplace and a grand piano. From the start, the whole thing is at once lovely and sinister. I was all in.

Upstairs we were greeted, one at a time, by Mrs. Hauptmann herself. When it came my turn, she took my hand and leaned in, looking a bit concerned. ‘I don’t know you,’ she purred. After I’d introduced myself, she proclaimed my surname a very good one.

I’m fascinated by the idea of the savage inside, and how deeply a surface need be scratched to release it. Alice Hauptmann is certainly the picture of gentility. But one need only introduce the subject of government-sanctioned torture (or a bit of Animal Planet, which Alice gleefully proclaims ‘almost pornographic!’) to bring out her inner brute.

David Adjmi’s script is so sly. The way in which his Alice rationalizes brutality, the coolness with which she excuses, even embraces cruelty, sneaks up on you. It’s seductive, and by the time you realize you may share more of Mrs. Hauptmann’s world view than you’d care to admit, it’s too late. You’re pinned. When she rhapsodizes about the moment in which a gazelle gives up to a predator, she may as well be talking about the audience seated about her, well within striking range. Before I knew it, the teeth of Adjmi’s script sank in deep and I was done for. (I wanted to tell him so afterward, but he has such a smile that I turned shy, sure that I’d say something stupid.)

Mrs. Hauptman talks of having resigned herself to a certain fate. Her Germanic husband thinks her monstrous, as does her (possibly alcoholic) friend Dierdre, simply for speaking her mind. She might have you believe that she’s a doyenne in a doll’s house but I think she’s more like the big savannah cats she admires on the television. She’s patient that way, practically welcoming prey to a watering hole she’s secretly stalked for decades. Alice lacquers her nails blood red.

I was so lucky to have seen this piece, and to be there for a closing night toast. Ms. Caldwell spoke movingly about the passion and dedication of the team behind Elective Affinities, and it was obvious that everyone involved had tremendous love for the project. Hearing her speak, and talking with people from Rising Phoenix and piece by piece, I was inspired by the generosity with which this show was built. This is no-agenda artistry - no one is out to elevate themselves above anyone else. Instead it’s about creating something meaningful, building and sharing something really special. Ms. Caldwell asserts that it’s not really up to us to designate ourselves artists anyway, that it’s not our call to make. The opulence of the surroundings in which she spoke these words pointed up the willingness of a hardworking team of theatre craftsmen to muck in for the greater good of live performance. For me it was humbling and hope-filled. In a year that brought us ego-driven debacles like The Spidish Play, I say more power to artists like these.

And it is the power of art itself on which Elective Affinities finally hangs. The play begins and ends with Alice talking about that hulking sculpture she’s commissioned for the second floor. Her husband thinks it’s growing, and Alice has to admit that it does have a certain terrible power. It lurks and looms, always there like a desperate measure, just the other side of a beautifully paneled pocket door. It’s like survival. Whether a Manhattan dowager or a doe in the jaws of lioness, some instincts simply will not be denied.

Alice eventually admits the sculpture is horrible, but asserts that it is art, nonetheless. It is, paradoxically, beautifully cruel. As with war and torture and plays like Elective Affinities, you can but define your own life in relation to it, and take your lumps.

One or two?