Blood from a Stone
(or a psychological examination of the forced creative process as expressed using the 5 stages of grief)

To be done in the tone of a 1950's instructional filmstrip


Narrator - our guide through the mysteries of science. Scholarly voice, firm stage persence. The voice of authority. They will stand to the side of the stage and describe the various actions of the protagonist. A pipe and a labcoat would not hurt.

The Artiste - long suffering artist, decked out in the traditional grab of a sterotypical French painter (black beret, striped shirt, pencil thin mustache). They will illustrate the various stages of the creative process.

Narrator: What is the creative process? Since the first caveman painted impressions of the terrible thunderlizards that plagued his daily life, other less creative men have wondered "How does he do it?". Only now, with the birth of the Atomic Age, has science advanced to a stage where we can begin to understand the inner workings of the mythical "artist" (fingerquote here for emphasis)

(enter The Artiste)

The Artiste: Ah, what a beautiful day. I feel the creativity bubbling in my veins like fine French Roast!

Narrator: Science abhors abstract concepts, like love and puppies. In order to examine the true process of art, we must now set the terms of the experiment. Lets watch!

The Artiste: (singing verses of Frere Jaqcues under his breath) Alor, what is this? A letter, from my rich benefactor, without whom I would be a destitute bum.

Narrator: The game is afoot. Watch now as we ride the rollercoaster of forced creativity!

The Artiste: (Reading, then dropping letter in shock) Sacre Bleu! A painting due by noon! It is 10:30!

Narrator: First, denial...

The Artiste: I refuse! It cannot be true!

Narrator: Next, savory anger!

The Artiste: He is a mad man! I cannot be rushed!

Narrator: Now, salty bargaining...

The Artiste: Perhaps this is a mistake? Have I misread zee letter?

Narrator: The subject now falls into tangy depression...

The Artiste: (plaintive whimpering)

Narrator: and finally, sweet acceptance.

The Artiste: (a Gaulic shrug) Oh well. I can always get a job as a waiter.

Narrator: Don't you just love science?