This week, I witnessed something quite powerful. Two one-person shows performed by two extraordinary actors; one from Dublin and one from Belfast. Both acted, directed, written, and produced by the actors themselves, which is no small feat!

The first play was "A Bolt from D'Blue," by David Gilna, and the second was "For the Love of Mary" by Mel Bradley. The Leaf is the perfect space to host these delicate stories of longing and belonging. It's cozy, candlelit, with leather sofas and a small bar to the side. Both actors were understated in their performances, delivering true, natural storytelling.

We had a small speech, firstly by David Gilna, who explained that in the Irish Theatre Tradition, playwrights like Sean O’Casey and Brendan Behan would always present short plays before their main performance to give them an airing. Actor Brendan O’Neil delivered an excellent monologue as Brendan Behan himself, entering the stage singing a famous Rebel song, and sharing various humorous anecdotes from Behan's tragic and short life. He took a bow at the end and exclaimed to the audience, “I’m proud to be performing in my favorite city,” showing off a tattoo of The Beatles on his arm. The stage was set for the second performance, essentially a living room with some religious relics.

As David began to speak, it seemed like a fun tale, lamenting the fickle world of the actor, and sharing stories of travel and hoping for that ten percent of luck that all actors need to succeed. According to him, his first play, in his own words, was awful, but some very important people were in the audience. "It’s not what you know, but who you know," which led to his journey to America, Boston to be precise, where tragedy struck. It was all presented in a very matter-of-fact way, interweaving humorous anecdotes of the actor's life and his trip to America, along with jokes about the Irish “mammy”. It was clear that he had many connections in America and had performed numerous shows there. He joked that Boston was almost like being at home.

Then suddenly, almost without warning, he told us about when he was struck by lightning, vividly describing what it was like. He recounted the experience of the living and the dead visiting him in his comatose state. He mentioned that hearing is the last sense to go, apparently, and shared a very funny joke about not wanting to hear Enya telling him to “sail away”. He then vividly described what can only be described as a kind of purgatory or a reckoning. Various people, including God himself, asked him to "confess". And if you don’t believe in God, just make peace with yourself.

More stories and near-death experiences led him back to Dublin, then London, where he suffered a tragic loss and was in despair. I was tearful at this point. You could tell it was a true story, coming from the heart. But he was committed to keep performing, keep creating. To let the “blood spill off the page”, for his friends that went before him, who were loyal and supportive, or gave each other their first break. Irish brothers in arms. An audience member told me it gave them the courage to keep creating, to keep moving forward, despite the obstacles.

By contrast, the second performance, "For the Love of Mary," was prop, costume, and projection-heavy, but at no point did it feel too much. It complemented the story. It flowed fairly seamlessly. There were sips of water and brief words with the tech guy, but this is a human story and it felt intimate. As Mel came onto the stage, she hung various clothes onto the clothes horse and began her tale. She was dressed very simply in black, and the shirt, cardigan, shawl, and dressing gown were used to help her transition into various characters, including the Virgin Mary herself. She portrayed all stages of womanhood from the child to the crone. The daughter of an RUC man and a reformed Catholic was finding her place in the world and was always fascinated by the fascination with Mary, eventually coming to some sort of understanding at the end. “Mary” stood in the same places Mel and her “mother” did; a metaphor that they are as one.

I understood Mary a lot better, realising that she was also a victim of circumstance. A product of a patriarchal society who was also an unwed mother. Mel asked what would have happened to Mary had she been in Ireland. Ireland bears a deep shame due to the mother and baby homes, and it comes out during the performance that she could have been a victim of this, but instead, she lived at home. There is a hint that her mother endured this. I did not know that in order for a woman to be sterilized, she needed in-person permission from her husband, but I did know abortion was essentially illegal in Ireland until fairly recently. Mel, in the form of a poem, described a tragic tale of a young mother and her newborn son in the ‘80s, dying by the roadside, fearful of the consequences of her plight. It was a tearful moment.

Another tearful moment was Mary speaking in Irish and Hebrew (you can hear it in English via the website). “Dearest Women”. I didn’t need a translation, although I did understand some of it. I felt the words. Mary. Mary as the intercessor. She understands. You don’t need to be Catholic to feel connected to her. She was Jewish, as of course Jesus was. It is faith. Faith and Catholicism were all Ireland and the Irish had, thanks to Tragedy and the Diaspora, but a flesh and bone woman is not perfect and never can be. I saw myself reflected on stage as a woman. The injustices and contradictions were aired.

It was not just about Irishness. I felt heard and seen. It is far from equal yet. And realizing Ireland has come a long way in its journey. The church no longer has such an iron grip on its people.

As a performer and as a second-generation Irish person, and as a woman (for the second performance), both of these performances resonated strongly. The desire to create and express oneself, to understand what has happened in one's life (particularly if it has been tragic) is a universal need. Both of these performances complemented each other well. They were personal, raw, heartfelt. I felt uplifted at the end of the performances. I shed some tears in both but ultimately felt I could achieve just what these two performers had, if I put my mind to it. As Mel Bradley said, “The stories will find you.” That is what makes us unique and powerful. Our culture and heritage are unique and fraught with contradictions, but what links us is being human and wanting love and understanding.

I felt there could have been more people in the audience and am eager to make the Festival, and indeed Irish plays, more mainstream in Liverpool. There is definitely a cultural shorthand with the Irish and the Diaspora. However, I was heartened to find that one audience member had not watched any theatre before and was not a native English speaker, yet loved the performance.

These performances definitely need to be seen again, and I’m still processing the content now. It was educational, uplifting (despite some of the content), and empowering. It was all about taking ownership of your life and story and not fearing the blank page. Keep an eye out for these performers, they are doing great things! As a performer, it’s inspired me to get out there and keep creating even if it means doing it alone. Both performers have worked tirelessly to network and get funding for their work. Their utter belief in themselves and their craft is inspirational. I am more than enough, as we all are.

Written by, Clare McGrath