We recently connected with John Patterson and have shared our conversation below.

Alright, John thanks for taking the time to share your stories and insights with us today. We’d love to hear about a project that you’ve worked on that’s meant a lot to you.

The first play I professionally produced was about my coming out experience. I wrote it two months after coming out to my family, and I produced it in less than a year. Up until that point, I had tried to get a number of creative projects off the ground to no avail. But with this play (entitled Verisimilitude), I was like a dog with a bone. I would not let go.

We were accepted into two NYC theater festivals. I had no money, and the play was ambitious. It had a cast of eleven. It required original music, projections, and fight choreography. I assembled a cast from all chapters of my life: middle school and high school classmates, folks I had studied acting with in young adulthood. A progressive church agreed to donate rehearsal space. The props and costumes were sourced from my former high school. I ate rice and beans every day, to save up every penny I could. I dedicated every waking moment to making the best show I could.

We opened, and we were a success, in the sense that people came to see it and were moved and inspired.

And I was changed in the process. My identity as a queer playwright and producer is inextricably linked to my identity as a gay man. I came out and launched my career at the same time, and with the same story.

My coming out was a heartbreaking, yet classic one. I wanted someone who wanted me, but would not come out himself. Over the process of producing and rehearsing the play, I came to realize I had fully mourned that loss. My audience spoke of how their hearts and minds were opened. But mine were, too — opened to a new future and a new understanding of myself. I came to understand that every project is an opportunity to provoke change — in both others and myself.

John, before we move on to more of these sorts of questions, can you take some time to bring our readers up to speed on you and what you do?

I am a playwright and producer, and I create theater that is a vehicle for community and connection between queer males. I create work that allows us to see one another.

We live in a society defined by toxic masculinity. As queer males, we exist at the intersection of privilege and oppression, residing both within masculinity and outside of it. This results in posturing and bravado, objectifying ourselves and others, hyper-achievement and status signaling, and a guardedness as we seek love and friendship. I have observed this to be nearly universal, yet we often feel alone in it. I seek to change that.

My work is intellectual because we use our intellects as a defense mechanism. It is physical because we build our bodies up as armors, even as we try to give them over to one another. It is steeped in pop culture because that is often the safest language we have for connection.

Over the course of a play, I peel back these layers one by one, to reach a spiritual and emotional core. My hope is that by the end, the audience will see themselves, their lovers, and their friends with more clarity, more openness, and more generosity.

I began my career as a closeted actor. Playing other people’s characters was an opportunity to reveal my emotions, without revealing much about myself. Once I came out, I realized I had something to say, and I’ve been saying it ever since.

What’s a lesson you had to unlearn and what’s the backstory?

For much of my early career, I was told to avoid financial stability at all costs. The idea was that if your income was too stable, you would no longer be motivated to make your art. A consistent day job would consume too much of your time, and you would settle into a dissatisfying life.

To that I say — if your only motivation is struggle and starvation, do you really want to be doing this?

Creativity requires a willingness to experiment and risk. It is difficult to do this when your basic needs are not taken care of. Financial security makes me a better artist. I wish we lived in a society where all artists were compensated fairly for the art they create. Unfortunately, we aren’t there. I’ve been lucky enough to find a job that affords me stability and some degree of freedom. They are out there. As you figure out how to build a life for yourself as an artist, it is okay to factor financial security and sustainability into the mix. The goal, of course, is to have your art be self-sustaining. But how can you create some degree of safety for yourself in the meantime? That looks different for everyone.

We’d love to hear a story of resilience from your journey.

Sometimes art mirrors life a little too closely.

I am currently producing a play called The Last Supper, which runs at The Gene Frankel Theatre in New York City from April 17th through April 20th.

I started writing this play two years ago. It is about a gay couple who invite all of their exes over for a dinner party. They are trying to decide whether or not to stay together, and this is their solution.

I announced the play and began rehearsals on the same day in March. That day, my boyfriend also revealed that he had doubts about whether or not to continue *our* relationship. For the next two weeks, I found myself in the same position as the characters — unsure of whether or not my relationship would continue. I spent my days marketing and rehearsing a play I was also living.

Ultimately, he decided to end the relationship.

I had a choice: I could either be overwhelmed by the process of producing a play about love and relationships. while also navigating heartbreak. Or I could recognize that this is exactly what I need.

When I am hurting, I prefer to look at the pain directly, without flinching. To see it, to honor it, to understand it, And then, ultimately, to transmute it into something else. To make meaning out of it. I think most artists would agree.

Every day, as I enter rehearsal, I have the opportunity to do that. I know I will honor this character’s truth because, for the moment, it is also mine. And I have a keen understanding of my play’s relevance, as I am experiencing firsthand how difficult it can be for gay men to build lasting relationships.

Much like my first play, this one will also change both my audience and myself. And it will help me heal.

Contact Info:

• Website: johnpattersonofficial.com / thelastsupperplay.com
• Instagram: johnpattersonofficial / thelastsupperplay

Image Credits

Chris Fucile
Sheila Zegarra
Juliana Braka
Kristina Bosnic