Caleigh Crow is a queer Metis theatre artist from northeast Calgary. Previous playwriting topics include a talking crow and a grocery clerk, the mass coronal ejection of 1859, the Antifa supersoldier, the intersection between twelfth century Franciscan nuns and Britney Spears, remote viewing, witch revenge, and a landlord musical. She is the co-founder and artistic lead of Thumbs Up Good Work Theatre. Her work tends towards themes of metaphysics, class struggle, magic, and serious whimsy.

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Imagine you could spend a day with any person, living or dead. Who would you choose and what would you do?

Now, you left this too broad! If you asked me which famous person, which historical figure, which artist—I  would have a different answer.

But where I’m at, honestly, in my grief, in this moment, I would choose to have one more day with my Mom. Thirty-two years was not enough. It’s never enough when the love is unconditional. I miss her terribly, especially when things are good, because she had a real knack for making things good. I associate good times with my Mom, and so they just don’t seem as good without her.  

I think we would start at Eggs N More, our neighbourhoood breakfast diner in Northeast Calgary, then maybe hit up a museum—nah—the mall. We’re a couple of clotheshorses and if it’s Bay days?

Forget it. Then grab a coffee and a scone in the afternoon before a walk by the river. Fish Creek Provincial Park. Talking, catching up. She hasn’t been gone two years yet, but there’s so much to tell her. Dinner somewhere new and adventurous. Dessert. Then we’d go see a movie–Mom’s pick. Then I’d give her the biggest, tightest hug and tell her I love her—just  like I do when she visits me in dreams.

What advice would you give your ten-year-old self about 2024?

For you, it’s a pretty good year, especially towards the end. Lots to be grateful for and also 2023 sucked so anything would be better. You will be away from your piano for a long time, but when you get back you will find muscle memory is strong enough to get you through. Also your broken finger will heal well, meaning your fears about stiffness and soreness were slightly overblown. Yes—spoiler—you will break your first bone this year. But you can trust yourself a little more. Maybe a lot more.

The world in 2024—nah—never mind. Look forward to Grade 6–it’s the first time you take a drama class.

Who has been the biggest influence in your journey as a playwright?

Definitely it would be my brother, Colin Wolf. There’s really nothing like a fire-sign sibling to get you off your butt! There would be no play without his vision for its eventual production. He’s the first person I ever showed my writing to. Really he works so damn hard and helped me in so many ways, big and small, and he’s the person I talk to about ~theatre~ and its place in the world and in our lives.

What did you learn about yourself as you worked on There Is Violence and There Is Righteous Violence and There Is Death, or the Born-Again Crow?

The importance of my own imagination.

What was the last book by a Canadian author that changed you in some way?

I’ll give you two:

The last novel by a Canadian author I read was The Diviners by Margaret Lawrence which I read in preparation for my turn as Piquette in Vern Thissen and Yvette Nolan’s adaptation for the Stratford Festival this year. And gee, talk about imagination. The river does flow both ways. That’s how that book changed me.

The last non-fiction I read by a Canadian author was Wild Theatre: The History of One Yellow Rabbit by Martin Morrow. Now, this book changed my whole perspective on theatre in Calgary. The way Martin describes the early days of OYR—the theatre company that has had the most influence on my artistic practice since my teenage years—is really truly inspiring.

The way they talk about Calgarian theatre-goers—so positive, so respectful. They take for granted that prairie people need avant-garde and experimental performance theatre. I loved that. I think it’s true.

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Excerpt from There is Violence and There is Righteous Violence and There is Death or, The Born-Again Crow

It is late in the day. Suburban backyard. There is a door to the house and a fence and trees. There is an assortment of outdoor furniture. There are garbage cans.

FRANCINE: I set everything up so you have a lot of space back here. It’s all set up here. A lot of space and different areas—I thought you could sit here or you could sit over here, and maybe read, or whatever you’d like to do. I thought this could be a place you can come be in the sunshine and fresh air so I went ahead and set it all up for you.

BETH: Thanks, Mom.

FRANCINE: I thought it might be good for you to make a habit of filling these bird feeders I bought. You know, having something to keep track of, and someone who relies on you is a good way to learn—I just mean it’s a good way to learn about life. I just think it will be good for you.

BETH: Right.

FRANCINE: And so what do you think?

BETH: It’s nice, Mom.

FRANCINE: You’ll sit out here sometimes?

BETH: Probably.

FRANCINE: Maybe this would be a good place for us to sit together.

BETH: Sure.

FRANCINE: You know I still can’t stand television.

BETH: I know.

FRANCINE: Well I can’t help it, I’m fussy and old, you know.

BETH: Yeah it’s fine.

FRANCINE: I just prefer books.

BETH: Mom, I know. You don’t have to watch TV. No one is gonna make you watch TV. And TV is doing fine without you anyway.

FRANCINE: I just prefer books.

Beat.

And you know, we could sit out here together.

BETH: Yeah.

FRANCINE: Yeah.

BETH: I know you aren’t saying you want to talk about what happened, but you do want to talk about it, and you don’t want to say you want to sit out here and talk about it, but I know that you want to sit out here and talk about it.

FRANCINE: You’re saying that, I’m not saying that.

BETH: I know what you mean, Mom, when you say you want to sit out here together. What else would we do but talk?

FRANCINE: I want to talk to you. Of course I want to talk to you. And I want to talk to you out here. But I didn’t say I want to talk about what happened. You said that. My therapist said not to push you into talking about it so I’m not. I am going to let you tell me about it in your own time.

BETH: You talked to your therapist already?

FRANCINE: I called her on my way to pick you up.

BETH: Have you considered I never, ever want to talk to you about it?

FRANCINE: Never say never, Beth.