San Francisco-based solo performer Marga Gomez recently starred in Lily Tomlin’s solo play The Search for Signs of Intelligent Life in the Universe at Aurora Theatre Company, and will next appear in her newest self-penned piece, Spanish Stew, at New Conservatory Theatre Center, Oct. 17-Nov. 23.
What’s the elevator pitch for Spanish Stew?
It began as a memoir of the year I arrived in San Francisco. It’s the story of a young Latina lesbian who left her homophobic parents in New York, came to San Francisco, and experienced true freedom in the year that celebrated democracy, 1976. And I’m telling this story trapped inside the world that we’re in right now.
What has changed most about where you live since then?
San Francisco was a place where you had Black people, brown people, artists, families, working-class people. A lot of them have been displaced. I happen to be in a rent-control situation, so I’m still here. So there’s income inequality here. But this place still has its own spirit, and this piece is about honoring that spirit, remembering that spirit, and believing that it can still come back.
Did you come to town wanting to be a performer?
No. I lied my way into a cooking job at this hippie restaurant, and everyone at the restaurant was a choreographer, a puppeteer, or a performance artist. They all had an aspiration, whereas I just wanted to be able to make omelettes. One day, I saw a play by a feminist theatre company called Lilith, and I thought, “Wow, I think I would like to do that.” I actually saw two of the women from the show walking by the restaurant. I had just put in a pan of blueberry muffins, but I ran outside and I said, “I would like to audition.” I auditioned and got it. A year later, I was touring through Europe with this company. Oh, I forgot to mention: This play is also a lot about food.
Well, it’s in the title.
Yeah, there is a lot of food porn. There’s a lot of sensuality about Mexican food, Puerto Rican food, Cuban food. And there’s recipes in it. There’s a scene in Long Island where my mother tries to teach me how to cook, and she starts to understand that her daughter’s a big old dyke.
Will you be cooking onstage?
No; I wanted to. What I do instead is try to describe some of these recipes so carefully that people leave hungry. There’s also a very stoned section where my father appears in a Maui Wowie hallucination and sings a song about Spanish stew—it’s really a Cuban dish called Caldo Gallego.
You do a lot of solo shows. Do you miss playing with others?
This is my 14th one-person show. I do enjoy working with other people, and I’ve also been a standup, but I really love this form. I collaborate with the director, I collaborate with designers. I mean, the cast party sucks, but I’m not lonely in the creation process.
What’s a piece of art you love that doesn’t get talked about enough?
I love puppets. I don’t think they get talked about enough. I came up with this dildo puppet show when I was living in New York; it was very much like South Park, but before South Park. I’ve always wanted to be a ventriloquist, but I’ve got this gap between my teeth, so I can’t really master that.
If you could give your younger self one piece of advice, what would it be?
I would tell her to start a savings account, not a checking account. But actually, I think my younger self did a great job. I think that my younger self needs to call me! She was badass, my younger self.
