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Anthony Hudson says Carla Rossi, his drag clown alter ego, is dead. However, she may not be gone forever. “She’s a Beetlejuice kind of guy,” Hudson tells WW. “She’s in an abyss somewhere, biding her time, running a call center. I’m sure she has turned it into a pyramid scheme. Somehow she is manipulating and coercing and exploiting someone.”
But what if you say her name three times?
“I truly don’t think she’ll return through my body,” Hudson says, though he could see her taking over Steve Buscemi’s.
The actor, artist and writer recently published a collection of “plays and other grievances” titled Lamp Back (Northwestern University Press, 136 pages, $26). The title refers to a short play in the book; “lamp back” is Carla’s misreading of “land back.” How Hudson’s identity as a Grand Ronde–Siletz artist influences his opinions on land acknowledgments (get rid of them), Peter Pan’s Tiger Lily (her, too) and his own sense of self (keep) is a thread throughout the pieces.
Hudson chatted about his influences, the writing process, and what’s next now that Carla has become the ghostess with the mostess. The interview has been lightly edited for brevity and clarity.
WW: The book is dedicated to your high school theater teachers. Why was arts education so formative for you?
Anthony Hudson: In high school in Keizer, Oregon, art was how I made it through school. It gave me something to do and a way to express myself. I was so lucky to have a very well-funded theater program. I got to be safe. I got to be creative. I got to sit and talk about art and ideas with people all day long, and the rest of the time was play and learning structure through play. It was a family. I got to go to a non-TERF-y Hogwarts that specialized in acting.
How did you wind up writing a book?
I’ve always been a writer. I’ve been writing since I was a kid. A lot of that came from Harriet the Spy—not the book, the movie. Kate Bredeson, who is the theater chair at Reed College and a theater historian, has been sharing my work with students for years. Kate asked, “Would you ever want to write a book?” I never thought of releasing things I’d already written and performed. We compiled a number of different pieces and saw how they worked in conversation with each other.
Land acknowledgements, should we stop doing them?
Yes. It started out as kind of a cool thing, and then it just became an easy way to absolve everyone of their fragility and guilt. I don’t know why we need to haunt the world of theater specifically with these. I don’t see them happening when I go to Hometown Buffet. They don’t send out a weird teenager making minimum wage at the Regal theater to do one before you watch Megalodon. If it were a different world, where people were actually invested in finding out whose land they’re on, and how to make an economic exchange beneficial in some way to the people whose land they’re on, like paying rent, that would require actually reaching out, actually getting to know the tribes—and learning to say the names.
What are your thoughts on Peter Pan’s Tiger Lily?
Can we just delete the Natives? I don’t know what function they serve or why they are in outer space. I don’t think the answer is to put Native people in Peter Pan unless they’re playing the normal roles like Captain Hook or the Darling children.
Nobody’s going to fund this, one of the plays included in the book, is about the hell of grant writing. How can organizations help artists?
The best way that arts funders can help artists is just by giving unconditional funding. Something that was really beautiful that happened during COVID was there were a lot of emergency grants for artists. I saw something really lovely being modeled by the James F. and Marion L. Miller Foundation with the Spark Award for Oregon Artists. It’s an easy application. It’s five questions. It’s all general. You’re not pitching a project. It’s all based on just rigor and the quality and aesthetic value and content of your work. Imagine that!
What’s next?
I’m really obsessed with Pinocchio. I’m afraid I might risk becoming the Disney artist, because I went from Peter Pan to Pinocchio. I read the original story, and I fell so hard for this horrible, horrible little Italian puppet. Now I’m imagining some kind of theater piece where I’m Pinocchio. I’m also really deep into Moby-Dick. There was a relationship between Herman Melville and Nathaniel Hawthorne that I’m excavating.
What’s inspiring you?
I know we’re going through horrible times. I know the world is dark. But it’s really beautiful to see that there’s stunning work happening, complicated stories coming out—things like Heated Rivalry.
I can’t wait for the Nathaniel Hawthorne–Herman Melville Heated Rivalry.
I’m trying not to tell people that flat out, but that’s exactly what it’s going to be.
GO: Anthony Hudson reads from Lamp Back at Portland Book Festival at the Portland Art Museum, 1219 SW Park Ave., pdxbookfest.org/event/pop-up-anthony-hudson. 11:15 am Saturday, Nov. 7. Festival tickets sold out.
