A Play About Hank
A few years ago, I decided to do for Hank what he had done for those paper bags. I tried to get him right, in a play that I called “Still Life.”
The play is about two old friends named Joe and Connie, one a commercial artist and the other a fine artist, who meet up after years of traveling different directions in their careers. During the visit, they decide to paint together.
CONNIE: All right. So, what are we going to paint?
JOE: How about some fruit?
CONNIE: It’s been done.
CONNIE: I’m allergic. Wait, here’s something.
JOE: A wrinkled-up paper bag? It’s not much.
CONNIE: Not much? Look at it. It’s got good brown paper. Rough, not smooth. If you study it, you can see little fiber things, almost like hairs. It’s got sides. It’s got a bottom that’s reinforced, to hold things. And look at the top edge here. See that? It’s crinkly. Why don’t they cut it off straight? I’ve always wondered about that. There’s a printed mark of some kind. This one’s red. Plus, you got all these wrinkles. This bag has seen things. It’s been around.
JOE: You know more about that bag than I know about most people.
CONNIE: I don’t know anything. That’s why I paint. To understand.