Actor, director, writer, mover; freelancer, and company man. The 8% of OOOO that isn’t white. Loves mischief, laughing, talking, thinking, staying up late. Frequently doing and meaning other than I’m saying. Currently watching a lot of cartoons. Listening for tracks to throw on at dance party. Currently thinking about love, sex, Berlin and Chinatown, altered states, being 30, playing sports, closing doors and opening portals.


Workshopping a new piece called MINE with Theatre Replacement at the Shadbolt/May.


Just barely/because I can't stop playing around with things.


solo works



A performance of speculative performances commissioned by Ramshackle Theatre for Theatre in the Bush at Canada’s Magnetic North Theatre Festival in June of 2016 in Whitehorse, Yukon. Written and performed by Conor Wylie, with the design and creation support of Lexi Vajda.

Feel free to steal ideas but please don’t take my images or words.

(c) 2016 Conor Wylie



#6. In this performance, I play a little boy in a lab coat, who looks at the sky and points out distant planets, constellations, other universes, and delivers a sound scientific lecture on the probability that my dad is still out there somewhere.





#63. In this performance, I do a voiceover for 10 world leaders, played by ice cubes, arguing over climate change under this lamp.





#1. I play a young boy who plays war with regiments of pinecones and branches. At first it seems innocent, but as he goes on, he reveals a starting implicit understanding of violence, and the evils we do to one another.

(these regiments are constructed and visible to the audience)





#3. Oh yeah. I play “The Grand Priest of Love.” I get two strangers (you and you), and they meet under the arch, and they are coupled. Then I kill them. Sacrificed for the good of the uncoupled.


#10 is the performance of a list. 100 reasons to tell someone you love them today.


#12. 100 things my mom could have said over the phone instead of “we can’t find dad.”


#38. Uh, ahem. I vill e-speak in all the voice, dat my friend ask me to, but I never in public because they are too offensive. Finarly, you will realize, the whore piece is a commentarly on cultural appropriation.


Performance #57 is a game. There are two options: one of them must die. You choose:





You see where that could go.


#36 is participatory. The audience doodles their secrets as little cartoons. Hidden all over are secret basement dioramas. Everyone hides their secrets in here.


#89. I adapt my piece The Dream Bird. Take a step in every time a question is true for you. Have you lost a parent? Take a step in. Do you think you are or would be a good parent? Whoever gets closest I put in this chair. They play my dad and read me a bedtime story.


#5. Okay everyone come inside the bowl now, but walk in like you’re wandering and you don’t know where you are. You see a nest, but suddenly an ancient lizard awakens and you realize you’re in its lair. It sniffs a bunch of people and then chooses one. It snuggles up, it makes them it’s daughter. They have a tea party. They play dress up. It watches her go away to university. Boohoohoo.


#91. Alternative voting.

#95. Elementary Stars.

#65. Doctor Strangelove 2016.

#121. Fake audience.


I can’t do them all.


#23. I tell all the secret meanings of the other pieces at Theatre in the Bush.


For example:

Lucas Myers puts a rainbow in every single one of his shows as a middle finger to a high-school bully who made fun of his favourite rainbow suspenders.


Miche, who makes all the food, puts micro-doses of LSD in the espresso meringues.


#69 is called “First Kiss.” Um. Me and an audience member get to know each other over the course of 10 minutes and at the end we decide whether or not to kiss.


#124. My dad was a musician and I loved sharing music with him. I get the saddest when I hear a song I think he would have loved. The performance is a playlist, and at the end, you listen to this song (Look at All the Smiling Faces by Shigeto).




A bunch of performances are just images.


#70. Ok here’s this meshy stuff, it goes in the trees, I’m like an alien or in an elevator.

#71. I got all this stuff coming off of me. I’ve just hatched. I’m born to die.

#73. This is a real bad guy, okay? He’s a piece of our colonial history. He killed First Nations people. It’s still an open wound.


#113. This would be a ten-minute analytics presentation of the patterns of the performances. Here you can see there are 11 mentions of my father and 62.9% of the ideas were actually stage-able.


#19. The Forgotten Puppet

#87. Alien Schoolbus

#54 Final Boss

#35. Gung Ho’s Casino


No time.


#105. This red curtain is spread all across these trees. I peek my head out. “Uhh… this is embarrassing. The curtain won’t open. We’ve got a great show back there though. It has dinosaurs, portals, a cotton candy fog machine.” I pop in and out with  a prop or a costume. Finally the curtain opens up: and there’s nothing there.




#106. Everything is there.



#109. Something magical happens. It isn’t the things I’ve said, but… something.


Okay, okay.


#102. Theatre of the Mind

#74. The End at the Beginning

#103. The Hourglass


(Look at hourglass, which is an urn for my dad's ashes) I don’t have time, DAD!


#120. is participatory: you take your biggest regret, you squish it down in a little ball. We put them on those curved trees and catapult them into the canyon.


#116. We make an amusement park! A ball pit, a roller coaster, and over here, a waterslide!


#119. I go up there past that fence to the neighbour’s cabin, and I’ve got a real horse up there that I ride over. I’ll show ya.



#112. (I return as my father "the King")

There you are, children. What are you doing out here? Nevermind, we’ve got time for one more bedtime story. Sit down. Look down at your shoe. Look through it, to your big toe. There’s a castle on it. You choose what kind of castle. Medieval? Gothic? Outer space?        

A group of strangers approaches. Who are they? An army? Refugees? A band of gypsies? What do you do? Welcome them? Turn them away? Do battle?

It goes wrong. What happened? Go a thousand years into the future. What’s there now? Your castle? Metropolis? Dust? Go back a million years. Prehistoric toe. There’s something about the dynamics of this prehistoric time (the energy, weather, tide, movement, whatever) that teaches you about your time and your castle and how everything changes in your world. Those laws carry on for all time, okay?

Now return to your castle’s time, but right before the strangers arrive. With your new knowledge of the universe, what will you do? Make your choice, and right before it plays out, put your socks and shoes back on. Your castle will be safe inside. From now on, each step forward you take will set your toe one year into the future. Later, you can take your shoe off and see how things have progressed. Now walk on to the next performance with your world on your toe, see how the laws of nature feel when you walk, and know that I’ll love you until the end of time.


(Shigeto’s Look at All the Smiling Faces plays as the audience exits)