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Last Afternoon as Herself

Production History

Last Afternoon as Herself by Cornelia Hoogland

Setting: present. Third floor, mixed-ability Altzheimers ward in a nursing home. A lounge area that serves as a craft room. Lounge chairs and a TV. Two cheap reproductions on the wall. Plastic fabric covers all the furniture. Institutional greens and beiges. Plastic flowers on an end table. A painting easel. Large window on angle on front stage right. Hospital noises (machine-beeps, intercoms, alarms, or crying) at intervals throughout. The residents vary in their mobility. Willem is the most agile, then Antoionette, then Belle. Phyllis is confined to a wheelchair.

Characters:

Gail, female, 28 year-old volunteer, second generation Canadian, of western European descent.

Punky, coloured hair in punk style, facial jewelry. Strong contrast to uniform (hospital green). Her own shocking socks over standarized stockings and above shoes.

Omar, male nurse, 31years old, refugee from Central America, dresses in hospital greens, well educated.

Willem, male, early 70s, resident, a former internationally renowned artist of eastern European origin. Willem’s spine straightens, he seems to grow taller, his eyes brighten, and he speaks more coherently, whenever he is occupied with art.

Belle, female, mid 70s, resident, a former teacher and union organizer, wears sweats. Very mobile.

Phyllis, female, mid 70s, immobile resident, WW II survivor, of western European descent, immobile, wide-eyed, wears loose clothing and pants that can roll up. Has a face that could strip varnish off a chest of drawers.

Antoinette, female, 80s, but seemingly ageless, resident, French-Canadian from Magdelena Island, singer, a cotton housedress.
A blithe spirit, a lively soul, and sweet-looking.

Act 1, Scene 1.

Monday afternoon. Lights up on Phyllis, who is painting on an easel. The audience can watch her paint (TV camera, large screen on back wall). Phyllis’ speech is coordinated with her painting. She illustrates the way she thinks through her painting, in that she starts to make a flower but turns it into a clock as she becomes agitated. Willem, staring vacantly, is sitting on a chair across from Phyllis.

Phyllis: This is the garden (makes thick green line). Garden, garden (more green lines. Big intake of breath) Smell it. Stars, it smells…stars. (dabbing yellow paint in rhythm) Star, star, star…clematis—that’s what it’s called— is like a quilt… white pointy stars. August. The smell of August. (stares at canvas) There it is (peers closer) buttered bread—simple as buttered bread mother used to say. I thought…(peers into canvas)…where is it? (Picks up fresh paintbrush, starts to turn the flower into a clock. Speaks in agitated voice.) How long can this last? How long? When is it over? (As she speaks the clock overtakes the flower). Help. (looks around) We can't—are we on time? Can we get out of here? Will we ever get out of here? Does Anne have her coat on? Anne? (audience sees completed painting of a flower-clock) Where’s Anne?

Willem: (getting up) That is not art. Not so. Give it to me.
(Willem pushes Phyllis away and picks up paint brush. Phyllis lets out a wail for the nurse. )
I am greater than the Michelangelo (pronounced Mickel- angelo).

Phyllis: (whispering loudly) Shouting not allowed! They will hear!

Willem: (clutching paintings) This is the great poverty, this is the nothing-entropy. The annihilation.

Phyllis: (reaching from her wheelchair) Mine! For the day we get out of here. Give it to me!

Gail: (rushing in, clipboard in hand) Phyllis, bathroom. (stops, caught in the drama) What’s going on?
(Gail intends to grab Willem by the arm, but drops her hand dramatically before doing so, as if she’s been forbidden to touch the clients.)

Willem: (shaking the papers in his fist, oblivious to Gail’s reprimand) The important thing is to be occupied with art.
(Gail grabs the paintings, they scatter everywhere. Gail picks up and looks at the flower-clock. Smiles.)

Gail: This is great.

Willem: That is not the great art.

Gail: (to Willem) Oh?

Willem: I am the great artist.

Gail: Look Mr. Michelangelo, this program is for everybody, geniuses and beginners alike. Art therapy. Therapy. Get it? I don’t care if you are Dante…

Willem: (beaming) Ah, the great Dante. Raphael, the great Michelangelo, Da Vinci, also great, the Donatello, (pounding his chest with the stack of paintings) and I, the great Kesler.

(Willlem sits in chair, picks up a pencil and starts drawing the female figure. Hard strokes. Keeps this activity up during scene, with occasional breaks as if in thought. Although she generally keeps her distance from the clients, Gail helps right Phyllis and the art supplies. Phyllis has become silent and during this scene slowly rolls up her pant legs, one by one.)