Limor Garfinkle Sam Kissajukian’s “300 Paintings” is a retold, not scripted, account of a manically creative episode.
Before artist and comedian Sam Kissajukian won awards at fringe festivals for his show “300 Paintings,” he quit comedy, rented an old cake factory and, in what he later learned to be a manic episode, painted the titular 300 works. Onstage, he shows each to the audience, and with humor and poise reflects on what he felt as he painted and what they look like to him now, after being diagnosed with bipolar disorder.
“The night before the show, I didn’t know what to talk about, so I just put all the paintings up on a projector screen, and went through slide by slide and talked about what I experienced at the time when I was making the painting and what I thought the reality was then, plus posdiagnosis, looking back,” Kissajukian said. “I only intended to do it once.”
Kissajukian performed the show at the Sydney Fringe Festival, where he won Best Comedy and the Director’s Choice Award. He was invited to the Edinburgh Fringe Festival, where the offers to continue to perform the show only grew.
“I invited all the people that had to deal with me when I was manic, just as a way to explain to everyone what had happened,” he said. “I’ve never asked to do the show. I just kept getting asked to do it. It happened very spontaneously, and it is still a surprise to me that I’ve ended up here.”
Kissajukian has been further surprised by the overwhelmingly positive response, not only in its accolades, but in conversations Kissajukian has had with audience members who have connected with it.
“I didn’t think anybody would relate to the show, it’s such a specific thing. When you put an idea out there, it does reflect back,” he said. “That’s what I really love about doing the show – it feels more like starting a conversation with people that then maybe carries on in their own life, with their friends and their family.”
The authenticity of Kissajukian’s performance means that the show changes every time he performs it. There is no script, just the paintings and his recollection of how it felt to paint them, and what they look like to him now. He hopes the meaning of the show reflects differently to every audience member, aiming to bring only the honesty and authenticity of his work.
“I like something to have a little bit of room for variation, just to keep some degree of risk and to keep it feeling alive. I don’t like to see myself as a performer on stage, I really try to show up as a human being presenting ideas and conversing with a group of people in front of me,” he said. “I’d much rather be authentic than try to feel like an actor onstage.”
“300 Paintings” run through Oct. 25 at the American Repertory Theater, 64 Brattle St., Harvard Square, Cambridge. $73 to $117.
