Sam Kissajukian’s solo show 300 Paintings explores the relationship between mental health and creativity.
In 2021, Sam Kissajukian created 300 large-scale paintings over only five months. This astonishing creative output is even more mind-boggling because Kissajukian wasn’t a trained or practiced artist—he was a stand-up comedian who had become disillusioned with the profession and moved into isolation in a windowless concrete warehouse. And, it turned out, he was experiencing a prolonged manic episode as a result of undiagnosed bipolar disorder.
Kissajukian created 300 large-scale paintings in only five months, during a prolonged manic episode, before he was diagnosed with bipolar disorder.
In 300 Paintings, Kissajukian uses a low-key stand-up style to narrate his journey of mental illness and frenzied creativity. The show, an award-winner at the 2024 Edinburgh Fringe Festival, has toured across Australia (where Kissajukian is from) and now comes to the Vineyard Theatre.
The staging is bare-bones: there is a lectern on stage, but Kissajukian, who wears a microphone headset, only avails himself of the glass of water that rests on it, otherwise staying within the boundaries of a painted parallelogram. Behind is a hanging screen, onto which images and text are projected, which he controls with a clicker (the scenic design is by Oona Curley). There is a casual, riffing quality to Kissajukian’s delivery, and, indeed, there is no finalized script for the show, as each night is shaped by improvisations. He often asks the audience questions and waits for answers before continuing.
He has a stand-up comic’s easy facility with these interactions, and seems to relish the orderly, engaged audience: part of what alienated him from stand-up was the intoxicated crowds whom he appeased with easy jokes rather than exploring something personal or meaningful. This show is, then, the chance to do what he could never do on the club circuit.
“Kissajukian uses a low-key stand-up style to narrate his journey of mental illness and frenzied creativity.”
Kissajukian chronicles his self-imposed exile, the beginnings of his painting binge and his off-kilter attitude toward his own art as a result of his illness—the irrational overconfidence that he possessed, thinking he had mastered the full art of painting in mere days. The paintings appear on the screen as he discusses them, and though his approach is self-deprecating, emphasizing the ironic gap between his manic grandeur and the reality of the situation, the works themselves are alluringly strange and evocative. (He is now an artist in demand, and it is clear why.)
While Kissajukian’s artistic mode was frantic and obsessive—he paints everything in extreme miniature after being told by a frustrated would-be mentor that his paintings are too large—he best captures the perplexing logic of the manic mind when he recounts his pivot from painting to inventing. For 30 days Kissajukian came up with a new invention during the day, and then tried to sell that same invention at night, when it was daytime in Europe and North America; the next day he moved on entirely (he even gets an offer on one of his zany inventions, but it arrives 24 hours too late, and he rejects it).
Kissajukian was a stand-up comic before he became a visual artist, and he uses stand-up to discuss his art and his mental health. Photographs by Carol Rosegg.
To call the inventions “zany” does not do them justice: they are utterly baffling yet fascinating, and he enacts the puzzlement of those who engage with him and try to discover the bottom-line of what he is proposing. One particular invention, a deconstruction of a business plan that involves T-shirts dyed with bleach by an artistic avatar named Pisscasso, a virtual museum and thousands of hand-painted pennies, is so layered, bizarre, and labyrinthine that it defies description. Kissajukian’s presentation of it, as he conveys his current awareness of how, for lack of a better word, insane the idea was, but at the time how sensible it seemed, is the highlight of the otherwise uneven show.
Liberated from comedy clubs, Kissajukian doesn’t have to go for the big laugh. However, the show lacks theatricality (there isn’t even a director credited), and as a result can feel flat for stretches. One-person shows abound in the extremely budget-conscious post-COVID nonprofit landscape, and this one fits into the even more streamlined TED Talk–like iteration. Transferring from Edinburgh to the Vineyard, home to so many daring and groundbreaking productions, could have provided the moment to explore how theatrical elements might aid and enrich the storytelling. The audience is asked to view Kissajukian’s paintings, arrayed in the lobby, on their way out. The artist’s talent is undeniable; it just hasn’t been fully integrated into a performance piece.
Sam Kissajukian’s 300 Paintings runs through Dec. 15 at the Vineyard Theatre (108 E. 15th St.). Evening performances are 7 p.m. Tuesday through Saturday; matinees are at 2 p.m. Saturday and Sunday. For tickets, visit vineyardtheatre.org.
Creator & Performer: Sam Kissajukian
Scenic & Lighting Specialist: Oona Curley
