THRASH, SCREAM, SCHMEAR, AND SHATTER

Everyday, I get in my car and want to scream, frustrated with the state of the world. I left the theater for the first time in a while, not needing to scream on my drive home.  

BASE + RADAR hosted New York based comedic performance artist Alex Tatarsky in their new pilot residency program. Tatarsky presented an in-progress showing April 10th and 11th with an opportunity for audience feedback. Once finished, the work will premiere with the New York based theater festival Under the Radar. 

The work, created in collaboration with Shane Riley (music) and Iris McCloughan (outside eye), takes place in a peculiar living room scene, with a couch, window, microphone, objects duct taped to the walls and floor, and a sideways folding table with text scribed across it like a chalk board. Tatarsky enters addressing the audience, pacing around and trailing wet foot prints all across the stage. They sit down on the couch and begin digging their hands between the couch cushions. They flinch and an explosion of baby carrots erupt from the couch. “My babies!!” Tatarsky cries. “Not now, mother is working, this is mother’s research.” Tatarsky introduces the theme of madness early into the piece. Describing to the audience how the world is mad, which makes you feel mad in return. Nothing is as it seems in this zany apartment and quickly the audience is made to expect the unexpected.

They move through gestural movements, classical clowning, and endless propwork, all while slipping in quips about gender, politics, and capitalism. There is a reoccurring motif of them slapping themselves across the face when they are misbehaving. They pick up one of the flung baby carrots and dangle it on a stick, chasing it around the stage. Continuing the carrot themed metaphors, they pose to the audience: “Why do you like your women like you like your carrots? Pretending to be babies.”

Tatarsky dances on the line of interacting with the audience, searching for affirmation while creating click-baity images with objects, like holding scissors to their hair, to then performing dramatic scenes addressing an invisible husband and playing with gendered tropes. Pulling out a roll of hubba bubba gum, they place one end in their mouth and unfurl the rest like a tape measure hitting the floor. Chewing the entire roll, they create a false tongue with the gum and hold up scissors, as to cut it off. They go back and forth with the audience, pleading and encouraging with their eyes. The gum is snipped and falls to the floor with a bounce. Hair is duct-taped to the back wall like a ponytail above the folding table. Tatarsky flips on a fan behind the table and the hair blows upward. Mocking the hair, they dance like an inflatable tube man, scoffing at its ridiculousness. 

Throughout the piece, Tatarsky appears comfortable in the uncomfortable, whether that is inflicted upon the audience or the self. They schmear the remaining gum in their mouth beneath the floating hair, then roll underneath it until the gum coats their entire head of real hair. Coming back to the audience, they say “You made me get gum in my hair!” and asks for help. With the earnest suggestions of peanut butter, we watch Tatarsky untangle and comb their sticky situation. Naturally what follows, is the creation of a sandwich, in which Tatarsky pours grape jelly on their head like conditioner, and sticks wonderbread to their scalp. They make another sandwich with a toy rat and wonderbread, calling out to the invisible husband that dinner is ready! It is often unclear what is planned and what is improvised. Watching them navigate the space is like an animal following every odd impulse and desire. They reveal to the audience that they knew they wanted to end up as a sandwich, though didn’t quite know how they would get there. Through the piece, it unfolds that the writing on the table is actually a “table of contents” setting a loose score for the piece, with some things in the score never to be seen. 

One of the most memorable moments of the performance was watching Tatarsky pull out a fleshlight disguised as a flashlight. Deconstructing the object to reveal its rubbery interior, they begin violently swinging the object like a flail. Metal music plays as they thrash and scream, flinging the object against the furniture and walls. There is something deeply grotesque and beautiful in watching the rage emanate from their body, wielding the cavernous and elastic tube. The object is catapulted against the wall with a thwack, and the music cuts out as it falls. They resume talking to the audience as if nothing has occurred.

The piece ends in a somber and glamorous manner that contextualizes the absurdity of the evening. Tatarsky puts on a sparkling silver dress incorrectly and a tall and matted blonde wig, standing in front of the mic among the mess they have made. They begin singing into the microphone about seeing their rapist at a cafe. The final song has bold proclamations frustrated with the state of the world, the government, and a lack of accountability towards men in power. This moment of earnestness makes meaning of the confusing and chaotic propwork embedded through the piece. 

Watching the people in power get away with crazier and crazier shit day after day is utterly maddening. Tatarsky’s reactions feel grounded when held up against the chaos of the world. My own feelings of powerlessness and frustration were remedied in watching Tatarsky thrash, scream, schmear, and shatter. Reminding us all that amidst the insanity, we still have free will and agency that we can be exercising in much weirder ways.  

BASE + RADAR hosted New York based comedic performance artist Alex Tatarsky in their new pilot residency program April 10 and 11, 2026 at Base: Experimental Arts + Space. Program can be viewed HERE. Featured photo by Jim Coleman.