Alison Bergblom Johnson's unadorned Fringe memoir, Other than Tragedy, opens a window into the specter of mental illness. Johnson gives an eloquent and vulnerable account of her lifelong battle with severe depression, bi-polar disorder, and suicidal tendencies. Johnson states the main goal in her story is to “build a scaffold away from suicide.” With very little frill, she succeeds.
Johnson pages through her story, propped on a lone music stand, reading in direct address to the audience. On either side of her are framed black and white photos of her great-aunt Emma and great-great-aunt Alma.
Emma is shown elegantly seated on a chair in a neat bungalow, surrounded by books. A vintage silk scarf lies beneath the photo’s frame. It is Emma’s scarf, which Johnson has inherited. It is a "classic," like her great-aunt. But, Johnson has witnessed Emma’s deterioration from dementia, and her death.
Alma’s photo shows a shadowy figure in bright sunlight, seated on the lawn of Clear View Sanitarium in Iowa, circa 1921.
Another female relative, Edith, makes an appearance. There is no photo. But on Johnson, she casts a deeper impression. Edith died from suicide.
The photos are a hidden door to Johnson’s past. She listens to her family’s intimate conversations. She questions and wonders. This vibrant history is filled with great beauty and terrible pain.
There is a shared creative legacy. Edith loved to sing in the choir. Emma read classic literature and taught writing. Alma painted striking folk-art styled images. Johnson herself cannot live without the pen.
There is also the horrible, numbing cycle of hospitalizations, suicide attempts, diagnoses, and treatments. “Alongside the tragedy of mental illness lurks ordinary life,” Johnson asserts. Yet, one by one, women in her family are lost. Why? What can Johnson do, as their blood runs in her veins?
Other Than Tragedy is fairly engrossing in its Fringe state. Johnson is the work, in all its raw, tremulous candor. It plays at a high emotional pitch, as Johnson consistently delivers in her upper register. There could be more vocal nuance. In staging, I was expecting her to meaningfully interact with the space, the props. There’s great potential in this work. Some shaping would lend even greater access to Johnson’s vivid insights.
As a whole, Other than Tragedy shows the brave, spirited heart of an artist and woman. For one hour, she is alive. Johnson is a powerful act.
Comments