Marcus Gardley is a talented African American playwright and poet who is proving difficult to ignore. A few years into his career and he has garnered a number of prestigious awards, including the 2011 PEN/Laura Pels Award for Mid-Career Playwright, the Helen Merrill Award, a Kesselring Honor, the Gerbode Emerging Playwright Award, the National Alliance for Musical Theatre Award, the Eugene O’Neill Memorial Scholarship and the ASCAP Cole Porter Award.
Also a visiting lecturer at Brown University, his work for the stage includes Every Tongue Confess, On The Levee, And Jesus Moonwalks the Mississippi, (L)imitations of Life and like sun fallin’ in the mouth. He draws on the rich southern heritage of his family including tales of slavery from his great grandmother. The London premier of his acclaimed play The House That Will Not Stand at the Tricycle Theatre is attracting rave reviews. Gardley tells Joy Francis about the important influence of women family members on his writing, his cautiousness at being linked as an ‘Age of Obama’ writer and why he is appalled at the lack of quality roles for women of colour.
What made you start writing plays as you also write poetry?
I think in retrospect my early poems were actually plays. I simply just didn’t realise it at the time. Some of my poems even had stage directions and I knew instinctually that I did not want to read them myself. I wrote them for other people to read out loud. I didn’t consider them plays because poetry came so naturally to me and I thought a poem could only be a poem. It had two legs; a poem needed only to stand., but on stage poetry dances. It wasn’t until I saw poetic work being done on stage that I realised this was the medium for me.
What inspired you to write The House That Will Not Stand?
I wrote this particular play because I was obsessed with this moment in US history. Most people do not know about the free people of colour in New Orleans in the 1800s, or that they were the forerunners of the civil rights movement. In particular, many do not know about these incredible women who were part of the placage system and who were very powerful. They owned property, they were active in local politics and one could argue that they even (quiet as it’s kept) ran New Orleans.
The play is women-centred. Was this a conscious decision and do you find it easy or difficult to write female characters?
I don’t find it easy to write any type of character. All voices and/or spirits take time to mature in a writer’s mind. It’s a deep process of listening and waiting. I feel like I have a particular access to the varied voices of women of African descent because I was raised by a large number of black women. Their music is the milk that I nursed on. So I tap into a black feminine cadence, phraseology, wit, passion and soulfulness that I think surprises people. I’m writing what I hear, what’s in my bones. It was a conscious decision to write a play with meaty roles for black women. There are not enough parts for them in this world and if I spent my lifetime doing just that – there still would not be enough. The lack of quality roles especially for older black women is appalling. I hope to be a part of a movement that seeks to bridge the gap.
The cast is amazing and awash with Black British female talent. Did you have a say in casting?
I did have a say in casting. Honestly, all of the women who auditioned for the play were remarkable. There is an embarrassment of riches in terms of talent in this country. I am honoured to work with this incredible cast, director and crew.
How does it feel showcasing the play in London and what impact would you like it to have?
It has always been a passion of mine to work in London. I appreciate the love that audiences have here for the theatre, which is unparalleled. I hope that the story impacts audiences to the point where they feel the need to learn more about the history of these women and their own past as well.
You are quoted as saying “I don’t like speaking my work, I like hearing my work.” What do you mean?
For me writing plays are most akin to writing music. The words that I put on the page are notes on staff. The actors are the instruments and the players. I don’t enjoy playing myself. I tried my hand at acting. I find that I am really good audience person. I live and long to hear all of the notes put together in an orchestra – which is the play. I know that my gift is the written word. Others have the gift to speak those words and breathe life into the music.
As a writer, how do you feel about being linked to the ‘Age of Obama’?
I don’t think this is the age of Obama to be honest. I actually think he would reject that term himself. I think Obama is a part of a period where race, class, gender, sexual orientation, faith, economics, the climate and many other subjects are being discussed and dealt with in truly monumental ways. To this end, I think Obama himself is a part of a new age where people are questioning old ideologies and longing to see true representation of who we are as people of the world. I am linked to Obama as much as he is linked to anyone else. We are all linked. I don’t think that leadership can be about the individual anymore. I think everyone and anyone can be a leader. It’s going to take a village. This should be the age of the village.
As a multiple award-winning playwright, what do you do to deal with the pressure of expectation to produce a critically acclaimed piece each time?
I don’t expect to produce a critically acclaimed play – I think that end-goal is up to critics. If I worried about that, I am not sure that my work would move people or come from a place of truth. Plays are madcap impossibilities. They can easily be unyielding or masterpieces created by random acts of magic. I can only work hard, be open, listen and discover. The rest is in the stars. I do seek to challenge myself with every play. I always hope to learn something new about the theatre.
Any advice to budding playwrights, particularly of colour?
Plays are inside you. They just are. It’s about unlocking your true potential and getting out of your own way. Its cliché but never a truer word was spoken – you can literally do anything you put your mind to. I am a living example of it. If you want to write a play, write it. The only rule that you have to obey is that you must call it a play. That part is easy. You must tell your story. You must get to the end. It won’t be easy, but those that want rain must also expect mud.
Read our review of The House That Will Not Stand.