There are planets out tonight that are being mistaken as stars!
Can you believe that? Planets as stars.
Gina Cornejo spits those lines with indignation bordering on anger. Poets see truths that others miss, and in this moment, midway through the second act of her remarkable performance at Theater LILA, she is frustrated at seeing those truths while others remain oblivious.
To see the difference between the planets and stars, to avoid mistaking one for the other, requires observation over time. The word planet comes from a Greek word for wanderer, because from our vantage point here on terra firma, the planets wander among the stars, which stay fixed in the night sky. But you can only see the wandering if you look every night, marking the positions of the celestial bodies, observing patiently over a long period of time. Those who mistake planets as stars have not put in that work.
Cornejo, however, has. Life observed over time is one of the central themes of this one-woman performance, Theater LILA’s first production in more than five years. It is part theater piece and part poetry reading, presented in the round at Art House 360 in Verona. The poems, which are sometimes clearly discreet pieces and sometimes flow one into the next, are all set in specific times within the last 20 years or so of Cornejo’s life, but she doesn’t present them in chronological order.
Instead, we begin on a New Year’s Eve, in a writer’s studio. A typewriter sits atop a desk, giving an immediate glimpse into our main character before she’s even arrived: this is a writer nostalgic for writing, for the physical act of putting words to paper, complete with the satisfying clack of the keys, stamping letters onto paper, imbuing metal, ink and paper with life.
Surrounding the typewriter on the table and the floor around the room are pages and pages of drafts, ideas, some pulled from three-ring binders, once held together, now pulled apart, and some crumpled, rejected completely.
Our protagonist enters, grinning, swaying slightly, in pajamas and drinking champagne out of the bottle. While the rest of the world celebrates the new year, she’s going to create something, because what else can she do?
The performance gives the impression that it’s being created as we watch, and we’re experiencing its creation together. When Cornejo lets her eyes drift to the distance and whispers, “What is it? What is it?” she gives the sense that sometimes, poetry is discovered more than created, and the poet’s job is simply to find it. Much of the time she’s reciting from memory, but she also picks up some of those pages scattered about the room, partially reading and partially reciting. For Cornejo, it seems, poetry exists simultaneously fixed to the page and floating in the air.
The story spreads from the confines of that little studio to cleverly use the limited space, creating five distinct places and times and life circumstances to efficiently communicate setting: whenever she wanders (there’s that word again) to a new position, we know immediately when and where we are.
The narrative, such as it is, bounces from January 1, 2011, her wedding day, to the present, and all the way back, and part of the way forward, and part of the way back, flattening all of that time into a single experience, just as memory does. Memory is never linear; near memories connect seamlessly with deep, long-ago memories, conjuring a mix of emotions that neither memory would necessarily carry on its own. Cornejo’s poems, presented as they are in this piece, conjure not only a story, but a rich and deep brew of joy, whimsy, trepidation, melancholy, indignation, inspiration and finally contentment – and ultimately the piece becomes far more than the sum of its poetic parts.
“One woman show” has become something of a punchline in popular culture, and I admit I’m typically skeptical of this sort of genre-bending performance piece. (I’m the kind of writer who would, probably, have and use a typewriter if I had space for one.) I’m also skeptical of what we used to call “confessional” poetry, which focuses on the emotions and experiences of the writer but too often fails to connect with the reader (or, in this case, the listener and viewer). But I encourage you to come with an open mind and give yourself over to the poetry; if you do, in the manner she expresses her own experiences and emotions, Gina Cornejo will have your emotions on a string.
Gina Cornejo will perform Planets as Stars four more times this weekend: Thursday and Friday at 7 pm, and Saturday at 3 and 7 pm. The production is directed by Jessica Lanius with sound design by Asiah Wagabaza Doyle. Tickets are available at theatrelila.com/tickets.
