Friday Mar 29

Francis DiClemente lives in Syracuse, New York, where he works as a video producer. In his spare time he writes and takes photographs. He is the author of Outskirts of Intimacy, a poetry chapbook published by Flutter Press. He received a B.A. in communications/journalism from St. John Fisher College in Rochester, New York, and an M.A. in film/video from American University in Washington, DC. His blog can be found here.  
 
 
Francis DiClemente  interview, with Kathleen Dennehy
 
What inspired you to write this play?
 
I first started this work in the early 1990s in a playwriting workshop at American University, where I received my master’s in film and video. The workshop explored ideas about creativity, and the students wrote and acted out scenes. Our final project for the semester was writing a short play. I had always been fascinated by the Catholic Church, and the idea of an absurdist play taking place in a formal, religious setting sparked my interest.
 
I found the play several years later when I was going through some old stuff in my parents’ attic. It was after the Millennium, and I thought an absurd play about the Apocalypse could work well in the 21st century. However, once I picked up the play again, I realized I needed to add more drama and conflict to the piece.
 
 
You must have been raised in a Catholic family or via a Catholic school...? Please spill the beans on that.
 
Fortunately, my parents never made me go to Catholic school. But I am Italian and I was raised Catholic in the city of Rome in central New York. Some nuns lived at a convent down the street from our house in the old neighborhood, and sometimes the nuns would babysit my sister and me. I still remember the smell of fresh bread baking in their oven.
 
My Aunt Theresa is a nun who now lives in Florida (her religious name is Sister Carmella). So it was just a given that I would be brought up in the Catholic faith. But even as a kid the church held a lot of power for me, I think because of its visual allure—e.g. statues of saints, crucifixes, the Stations of the Cross, candles, stained glass windows, etc. Even if I was bored in Mass, I could let my eyes wander around to find icons that captured my interest and this made the time pass.
 
 
Perhaps because I endured 12 years of all-girl Catholic school, I am endlessly fascinated with the dichotomies (some might say hypocrisies) of the Catholic Church, as well as the allegorical, symbolic almost superstitious fanaticism of this particular faith. I feel you've both honored and parodied both of these qualities- what parts of Catholicism do you find yourself fascinated/obsessed with?
 
I’m not sure how to answer that, except to say I am a practicing Catholic. I try to go to Mass every week. Mostly though, I am drawn to the Catholic faith because I believe Christ to be the sole path to salvation. For me everything else is ancillary. I am thankful for the Resurrection because it gives me hope, that although I am a sinner I can be saved. And while this is a non-denominational view, I don’t know if I would ever feel comfortable attending services in a Protestant church. I feel at home worshipping in a Catholic church. However, there are many things about “thee” Catholic Church that I do not agree with, and in a way, I separate the faith from the hierarchy.
 
One thing I’ll tell you is that I am not thrilled about the revised translation of the Roman Missal, the liturgy of the Mass. Most of the time I find myself perplexed while trying to follow along, and like many other people, I have to refer to the laminated cards in the pews. I went to Mass with my stepfather one Sunday morning this summer, and after leaving church, as we walked to the car, I said to him, “I’m glad they didn’t change the words to the ‘Our Father.’”
 
 
This may be too personal a question. Were you an altar boy? If so, why? If not, why?
 
No, never.  Again, I am lucky my parents never made me become an altar boy. I would not have wanted to wake up early on Sunday mornings to serve, since most of the time our family went to Mass on Saturday nights. Sleeping in was, and still is, a big bonus for me.
 
 
Why keep it to one act? It does pack a dramatic punch, how you explore faith, redemption, the abuse of power and desperation with humor and drama, but were or are you interested in exploring these issues further?
 
Well the play started as a one act and the reason I kept it that way is because I feel it’s flawed. I think the main problem with the play is there are too many characters, which means it would be difficult to cast and produce.
 
I am a member of a playwrights’ group in Syracuse, New York, where I live (it’s called Armory Square Playhouse). Members share work and we solicit plays from the community. During the season the group holds staged readings and mounts small-scale productions in a black box-type theater. I feel like my participation in the group has been a great education for me since I do not have a theater background. I have been able to see what translates well from the page to the stage—what works with actors and with the audience and what does not.
 
So for Sanctuary, I feel unless I could fix the flaws in the play as it is, it doesn’t make sense to expand it into a longer work. I have, however, reduced the number of characters that I began with in the original draft. On the other hand, I feel the play works well as a one act since it does come to a resolution. 
 
 
Have any readers of this play taken umbrage with your treatment of the Church and your personification of Jesus, insane nuns and useless priests?
 
No, only because I haven’t shared it with anyone else. The reason for this could be my Catholic guilt, and I would be mortified if my Aunt T. read it.
 
 
What drives you to write plays, instead of, say, screenplays or novels?
 
I tend to write across genres … e.g. poetry, fiction, nonfiction, plays, etc. I think for each story you write you have to find the most suitable vehicle or structure for it … whether it’s a cinematic environment, a personal essay or a short story. One thing I like about playwriting is the ability to hear a character’s authentic voice. I also like that you can start fast without having to do a ton of research or plotting as in a novel. Of course there are historical plays that require exhaustive research, and all plays need some narrative structure and plot. What I mean is that you can start by typing a conversation between two characters and then later on, as the conversation unfolds, you can figure out what the story will be about. The running dialogue opens a window to the characters, and you start to get a sense of who they are and what they want.
 
I also like the idea of an enclosed environment (e.g. a prison cell, a classroom) creating heightened conflict between characters, and a play is a perfect vehicle for exploring this.
 
Lastly, I like the collaborative nature of theater. Unlike prose, I believe plays and screenplays are only words on paper, mere blueprints. They require the participation of actors, producers, directors and crew members in order for them to come to life. Otherwise, they do not realize their full potential. With plays and screenplays, you share your vision with others, and then they bring their talents to the project and everyone has a role—and a stake—in making it a finished work of art.
 
 
What playwrights influence and inspire you?
 
I tend not to read a lot of plays. However, I have read and learned from Anton Chekhov, Neil Simon, Arthur Miller and William Inge. I have also attended several plays at Syracuse Stage, which is central New York’s professional theater. So I have had a chance to see a couple of August Wilson’s plays and they had a great impact on me. 
 
 
What are you working on now?
 
Right now I have two poetry chapbooks that will be published by small presses in the near future (tentatively, but my fingers are crossed). So I have been editing the manuscripts. I will then write and edit some short stories and nonfiction pieces. I have lots of ideas for projects, but my time is limited since I work full-time. I also have an idea for a potential full-length play marinating in my brain, and I hope to tackle it sometime in the near future.
 
 
Your photo makes you look twelve.  Without making you divulge your age, unless you want to share (be my guest) but I’m very curious how old you are. You can be vague if you prefer. Mainly, I want to know because I never experienced a gentle, bread-baking babysitter nun. Ever.
 
I am 43 years, and the reason I look so young is because I had a brain tumor on my pituitary gland when I was 15 years old. The tumor disrupted the endocrine system and I’ve been on replacement medicines ever since, e.g. thyroid, cortisone, testosterone, etc. The type of tumor I had, a craniopharyngioma, is benign and slow growing but its placement near the optic nerve can cause problems.
 
During the 1980s I had two surgeries to remove the tumor and some leftover fragments. But the tumor eventually grew back, and last fall it caused significant vision problems, including double vision. Surgeons performed a minimally-invasive surgery last November to drain or decompress the tumor, and magically, my vision came back to normal. I also had Gamma Knife radiation over the summer in hopes it will snuff out all traces of the tumor to prevent it from growing back.
 
It’s been a rough road, but spending time around hospitals and doctors made me realize how lucky I am. There are so many people who are in much worse condition, and every time I leave the hospital I am thankful that I can walk, breath and use my brain to think.
 
 
I know that as a Roman Catholic (and German Jew) I struggle mightily with guilt and with daring to create beyond where the Church and the Nuns would approve. Your seemingly equal and passionate devotion to your faith and to your writing is impressive and rare, (at least I think it is), in most commercially known theater communities.   Do you struggle between being full of faith, yet using the high drama and iconic imagery of Catholicism to explore (with absurdity) dramatic situations and question true faith?  Or is it more that you are using Catholic characters to explore the hierarchical and power issues that are inherently part of a priest’s relationship to his flock.
 
I think it’s dangerous for a writer to think of himself or herself as a Catholic, Protestant, Muslim, Buddhist, Republican, Democrat, etc. A writer has to follow the characters and the story without allowing any personal philosophies to taint the work. Of course, a little bit of yourself and what you believe will likely come through no matter what, but it can’t be intentional. It’s sort of like what you hear in cop dramas, when the lieutenant or captain tells the detectives to just follow the evidence and not let anything else interfere with the investigation. That’s what a writer must do—just follow the story to its natural conclusion. So I never think of myself as a Catholic when I am engrossed in a story.
 
Good answer.
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