Necessarily ephemeral, theater is not matter (though it may matter, we hope). ANTIMATTER COLLECTIVE was formed in order to excavate a new kind of theater that confronts the chasms between art and entertainment, the comic and the tragic, the squalid and the transcendent. The foundation of our process is the conviction that the collective intelligence and ideas of the group, when properly harnessed, will always lead to richer work than those of the individual. Periods of discussion, development, and play challenge everyone involved to map out the depths of their initial impulses and push beyond. This leads to work that is smart and subtle without sacrificing its visceral punch and sense of pure fun.
We developed this shared aesthetic and ethos of collaboration initially in DEATH VALLEY, our original zombie-western created for Vampire Cowboys' Saturday Night Saloon and then produced in full at the Bushwick Starr in the summer of 2011. Subsequent work has deepened our exploration of modern myths with Greg Moss's sixsixsix, a menacingly metatheatrical riff on Faust produced first at the AXA in Action festival in Prague, and The Dreams in the Witch House, a shadow puppet adaptation of an H. P. Lovecraft novella, created for the Brick's Tiny Theater Festival. Both were remounted together as DEMONOLOGY at the Magic Futurebox in the summer of 2012. Most recently we challenged the limits of the theatrical with MOTHERBOARD, our post-Robocalyptic tragicomedy at The Secret Theater in the fall of 2012.
Darkly funny, emotionally challenging, genre-savvy, character-driven, and loaded with tightly choreographed action and cutting-edge effects, AntiMatter makes sharp-edged work that appeals broadly to non-theater-goers and aficionados alike. Although our work is marked by a finger-on-the-pulse contemporaneity, we are all fundamentally purists to theater's original function: gathering as communities in order to experience our collective stories, and to have a blast while doing so. Stories matter because we tell them, and we tell them because they matter. That illusory, transient significance is a kind of alchemy, making something out of nothing—kind of like theater itself. We think that matters.