As far as I can tell from speaking with him by phone, Markeith Wiley’s It’s Not Too Late, which runs this weekend at On the Boards, presents a meta-theatrical examination of “the conversation we need to be having right now,” an exploration of that conversation’s limits and possibilities, especially as it relates to black artists creating work seen by Seattle's predominantly white audiences.
It’s Not Too Late is set up like a nighttime talk show. (That the title manages to reference a line from a Devo song and work in a pun on late-night TV should be all the information you need to purchase your ticket immediately.) Dushawn Brown, an alter ego created by Wiley, sits behind the big desk. Brown describes himself as Seattle’s first black talk show host (Wiley is quick to say that’s not true), who is working for a predominately white studio.
The conceit is that the show is being filmed before a live studio audience, and that audience is getting to see how the televisual sausage gets made. In the process, they get to see what it’s like for a black artist to work when surrounded by white people. (Sidebar: If you haven’t read Zora Neal Hurston on this, read Zora Neal Hurston on this.)
"Brown plays the #1 black friend," Wiley says. He's there to answer questions from white audience members honestly, but Brown has less of a filter than Wiley does, and Brown's not going to hesitate to tell someone when they're fucking up.
Wiley says Brown does his best to keep his shit together throughout the show, but slowly, “with the help of some micro-agressive things that [his] ‘crew’ does,” and “through [my] guests telling their truths,” Brown unravels.
A shadow figure, played by Chloe Albin, accompanies Brown onstage as he plays host to local luminaries. Wiley describes the shadow thusly: “She’s my blackness. She’s my coffee in the morning. She helps me get ready for the show.”
Guests will include Natasha Marin (whose reparations.me project has received and continues to receive attention both nationally and internationally), author Imani Sims (read her book (A)live Heart), poet/community organizer Donte (DaQueen) Johnson, and dancers/choreographers Dani Terrell and Randy Ford.
In addition to talking about the work these artists do around town, Brown will lead an improvised, rapid-fire question segment that will start easy and end hard. Wiley says he might begin with a question like “What did you eat today” and end with a deeper questions such as “How do you feel supported by the arts community in Seattle?”
Each night will also showcase a different musical guest. Wiley’s lined up Jared Douglas, bassist/composer Evan Flory-Barnes of Industrial Revelation, dancer Sam Picart (who’s perhaps currently best known for winning Ellen’s “Dance Off”), and rapper Ryan Vinson (aka Sketch Lightly).
Wiley himself has worked Seattle's stages in various capacities. He’s a dancer, choreographer, sound designer, and he also knows his way around a lighting grid. In addition to creating this show for OtB, just this year he’s performed at reSet, played with Kitten and Lou in Camptacular, designed sound for Grief Girls, collaborated with Stranger Genius Erik Blood on a couple projects.
In short, Wiley’s been busy. But he’s had help with this show. Local director HATLO served as the co-director/dramaturg/co-writer. During rehearsals, Wiley would improvise lines and HATLO would write them down and make suggestions. “HATLO has a different but similar lens on society,” Wiley says. “I’m a cis-male, and I wanted to make sure what we were touching on was very specific. I didn’t want it to seem like this black man just hates everything.”
Referring to his early years at Cornish College of the Arts, Wiley says he had no clue he'd be making this art ten years ago. But recently one of his past mentors asked him how it felt to be him. He said, “What do you mean?” She said, “How does it feel to be you as a black person in this place.” That moment, Wiley says, was the beginning of him pulling the veil from his eyes. “It’s not a simple thing to answer,” he added.
I talked to Wiley the Friday after Trump became president-elect of the United States. He says he and his collaborators wrote the script assuming Clinton would win, and so they weren’t planning to harp on Trump too much. “But now we plan to let him have it in a serious way, but also in a silly way,” he says.
When I asked how he was handling the news of a Trump presidency, he says “I’m phased by it, of course. But to quote Kendrick Lamar, I’m a product of the Reagan Era. I was born in this shit already. The last eight years of my life there’s been a little shift, but.” He'll tell you the rest this weekend.
