GERTRUDE STEIN

The idea for the play came about during Page to Stage events run by Firebrand Theatre Company in the Scottish Borders.  It was a prompt for writing something from an era you wished you'd lived in.  I always loved the idea of life in Paris in the 1920's.  

Work In Progress

Paris in the 1920’s. 
The opening of a play about ambition portrayed through the animal instincts of artists/writers. Gertrude Stein holds a salon where all the famous and soon to be famous artists/writers meet.  She tries to influence and control the artists/writers but she can’t as their egos and ambitions are too much.  The artist/writers are portrayed as animals with Stein the only human during most of the play. Their ambitions eventually side-line her as they move on and she becomes a Queen without subjects. This eventually leads her to create her own narrative and come into the mainstream with her own writing.

CHARACTERS

Gertrude Stein.  Age:  Forties.

Ernest Hemingway-as a dog.  Age: Twenties.

Pablo Picasso-as a dog.      Age:  forties.

James Joyce—as a lion.   Age: forties.

1920’s.   Gertrude Stein’s house 27 Rue De Fleurus Paris.

Gertrude Stein enters- She is dressed in full punk regalia think Ziggy Stardust/Toyah Wilcox during punk era.

She holds two dog leads one in each hand.  On the end of which are two actors(dogs) on all fours and wearing dog collars snarling and barking and scratching at each other.  Stein is struggling to control them.  This is Picasso and Hemingway.

Bowie’s Diamond Dogs plays as Stein enters.

STEIN—Picasso. Hemingway.  Behave. Behave.  Sit.  Mamma says. (Snaps her fingers and points to corners of the room.) Now. (Snaps her fingers again.)

(They stop barking and slink away into opposite corners and lie in their dog baskets. They continue to eye each other.)

STEIN—I am so disappointed in the both of you. I invite you into my home.  Yes, invite.  Not everyone gains entry to my Paris salon. Only those that mamma decrees are worthy of her wisdom. 

(Picasso barks.)

And no it wasn’t all his fault. You’re both to blame. Acting in such a manner.  Great artists do not disrespect each other. Any minute now the cream of intellectual Paris will fill this room. They come to listen to mamma special boys. 

(Hemingway barks.)

Not Gertrude, Ernest.  Miss Stein. Doyen of Paris.  And literature. Here in my modest little apartment I create the future.

(Hemingway barks.) 

Thank you Ernest.

(Picasso barks.)

No names Pablo.

(Hemingway barks.)

Ernest I said.

(Both bark at each other.)

STEIN—Boys. Please.  I have food.

(Both a low growl.)

And a very special present for you both.  But only if you behave.  Both of you. (They stop growling.)

That’s my boys.

(She beckons them to come to her, they do, she pats their heads, tickles their chins.)

STEIN-- O I’m so sorry did I shout at you?  You’re such good…Most of the time. Yes both of you Pablo. 

(Hemingway barks.)

I love you both.  My little pedigrees. 

(Both push in trying to get closer than the other to her.  They roll onto their backs and Stein tickles their tummies.)

STEIN—O you like that don’t you.  The both of you big softies aren’t you. All that barking and growling. There’s no need for it.  Haven’t I told you both? You are from the same line.  Only geniuses gets their tummies rubbed by Gertrude Stein.

(Hemingway barks.)

STEIN—Yes Ernest I did promise food.

(Picasso barks.)

STEIN— And a present. Food first.  But only…

(Both bark.)

Promise?

(Both bark.)

Good boys.

(She fetches two bones.)

(They glare at each other while her back is turned.)

STEIN—Mamma has got eyes in the back of her head.  Now Ernest. 

(Pablo barks.)

Be patient Pablo. Now Ernest I’ve got you the choicest bone.  Just what you need to build you up and make you big and strong. This is the very backbone of Dostoevsky himself. Don’t snatch.  (Hemingway takes the bone and goes to his basket.) Not all at once Ernest.  Take your time.  It is rather heavy but full of nourishment.  Savour it.

(Picasso barks.)

STEIN—I haven’t forgotten you Pablo. (Gives Picasso the bone.)This is special.  That’s it. Study it. Before…You have the hard surface of Goya and inside the delicious brains of Michelangelo himself. 

(Picasso goes to his basket. A loud scratching at the door. This is James Joyce off stage.)

STEIN— Always someone far too early. (The scratching comes again.) And so impatient. (She goes to window.) I might have known. It’s that James Joyce. He’s come crawling back has he?  (To Picasso/Hemingway.) Will we let him in boys? 

(Both bark, yes.)

Okay. And mamma will be nice. And you both will be nice won’t you? (Both bark, yes.) Promise mamma no ganging up on him like before?  (Both bark no. A small roar from James Joyce.) Patience Joyce. (A rumbling roar from the door. Stein ignores it.) First my little present to you both. (She puts the diamond collars on them.) Diamond collars for my special boys. (She indicates for them to sit ‘nice.’ She admires them. Joyce continues to grumble and scratch at the door.) Everyone will be so jealous of you both. (Re Joyce.) Some more than others I think.  He isn’t very patient is he?

(She goes to the window and Hemingway and Picasso start squaring off to each other.)

STEIN— Ahh the intellectuals are arriving. Pushing and shoving as usual. (Joyce roars.) That frightened them.

(Stein goes to open the door but Hemingway and Picasso start growling at each other and fighting trying to get the collar off the other.)

STEIN—Boys, boys, please.

(She tries to separate them but both bite her hand.  The collars fall off as the outside door is pushed open by Joyce and Hemingway and Picasso run out scratching growling at each other.)

(Stein is in shock. A loud roar is heard from the doorway.)

STEIN— No, leave them Mr Joyce. They’ll be back.  (She picks up one of the collars.) Come to Mamma.  She has a little present for you.

(Joyce enters and struts around the room. Stein tries to put the collar on him but he refuses.)

STEIN—Not very nice Mr Joyce.  I read Ulysses last night again. In one sitting.  I couldn’t put it down.  Come to mamma the genius of the age.  (Joyce growls.) The only genius of the age.

(Joyce lets Stein put on the collar. He sits beside her.)

STEIN—Shall we welcome our guests Mr Joyce?  (Joyce indicates yes. Stein to the open door.) Come to mamma.

(Bowie’s ‘Golden Years’ plays as we fade to dark.)