Woman Before A Glass: Dripping With Class

"I found out it's not good for artists to starve. They die."

Peggy Guggenheim, the subject of Lanie Robertson's one-woman play Woman Before A Glass, did her part to ensure that several significant 20th Century artists did not starve. She also saw to it that a few of them weren't wanting for sex either, but the main focus of the play is this American abroad's passion for supporting modern art and good taste to know who was deserving of recognition.

Born into wealth, and yet somewhat on a budget ("We were lowly millionaires, not billionaires like the rest of the crew.") Guggenheim spent Europe's between-war period socializing and sharing various degrees of intimacy with the likes of Samuel Beckett, James Joyce, Max Ernst and other notables of the bohemian elite. In time she opened galleries featuring the works of unknowns like Klee, Picasso, Dali, Kandinsky, Magritte and a dirt-poor janitor named Jackson Pollack. When their work didn't sell, Guggenheim would buy 'em up herself. ("For years I allowed myself only $100 a year to spend on clothes so I could buy pictures.") She never bought art as an investment; she picked what she liked.

When Hitler was invading Paris and destroying any works of modern art, it was she who bought one piece a day for two months -- paintings, sculpture, anything -- and had them shipped to America for safe keeping.

Surely the surrealists and modernists of the first half of the 1900's never had a greater champion, but although her life had it's share of interesting turns and tragedies (Her father died on the Titanic after relinquishing his guaranteed lifeboat seat and her daughter Peegan, an artist herself, committed suicide.) Woman Before A Glass works best as an entertainment. What makes this so much more than a pleasant "an evening with..." kind of play is the dazzling presence of one Mercedes Ruehl.

An actress who communicates intelligence and casual sophistication in a seemingly effortless manner, this is a perfect match of performer to character. As directed by Casey Childs, Mercedes Ruehl sizzles with charming eccentricities of manner and voice, playing a fiercely proud women with a collection of insecurities worthy of a retrospective. She drops names and spews out vulgarities ("When I was f-ing Samuel Beckett in the 30's... or when he was f-ing me...") and even manages to play the first ten minutes of the piece bra-less in a see-though white gown without ever seeming crass.

Designer Willa Kim has provided Ruehl with a stunning collection of designer dresses which, in one of the funnier moments, she doesn't even wear. As Peggy Guggenheim rummages through a crumpled bundle of fabulous creations, each with a fascinating story behind it, she laments, "There's a history of 20th Century designer gowns right here and I've nothing to wear!"

Thomas Lynch's set is a gallery in itself, with impressionist sculpture and painting providing the background for furniture pieces that hang from the ceiling in exhibit. Phil Monat's lights nicely provide soft color for an abstract floor.

Though Peggy Guggenheim's name-recognition status may have fizzled a bit since her death in 1979, the story of an individual's efforts to support the arts when governments won't is always a worthy subject for exploration and post-theatre discussion. And with a completely engaging performance by Mercedes Ruehl, the story is absorbing and quite fun.

Photos by Carol Rosegg

 

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