Around 60 students, faculty, and community members gathered for an evening with experimental director, playwright, and conceptual artist Richard Maxwell, whose work continues to expand the boundaries of what theater can be.
Maxwell, along with collaborators from the New York City Players, is on campus for a two-week residency centered in and around The Vault in Bernstein Hall, organized by the Department of Theater and co-sponsored by Entrepreneurship and Innovation and other offices. The intention for the residency is two fold: for the group to begin research and development of a new performance work focused on acting and robotics, and for Maxwell to serve as a conduit and facilitator for interdisciplinary dialogue and exchange across the arts and computer science.
The lecture, introduced by ԱƵ Professor of Theater April Sweeney, opened with a nod to innovation, which was a fitting theme for a conversation that bridged art, technology, and empathy. Maxwell, known for his experimental productions, shared video clips from some of his past plays and discussed his latest exploration: robots as characters on stage.
At the heart of Maxwell’s talk was a question that guided the night’s discussion: What happens to empathy when the performer isn’t human?
Maxwell was joined in conversation by New York City Players’ Technical Director Andrew Maxwell-Parish, who spoke about the engineering and artistry behind the performances. Together, they explored the delicate task of making a robot feel human — and what that reveals about human nature itself.
Even as someone who works closely with technology, Maxwell-Parish admitted to ambivalence about AI. “I have many feelings about it,” he said, noting that fascination often walks hand in hand with fear.
“With robots and AI taking away jobs, is there still room for empathy on the part of the viewer when seeing them on stage?” he asked.
One of his earlier pieces even featured a hard drive programmed to “think,” containing everything Maxwell had ever written. Since 2018, that project has evolved with the rise of AI, turning into a meditation on memory, identity, and our desire to recreate ourselves.
“I became interested in the limits of robots,” Maxwell said. “One thing that the robot and the character have in common is that they never die, because they were never alive.”
Reflecting on his creative process, Maxwell recalled advice from a former professor: “Talent is the quality of the thinking.” That principle has guided his career, encouraging him to pursue ideas that “spark an inspiration into what theater can be” and “challenge the capacity of the audience’s empathy.”
The evening left attendees with more questions than answers — but that, perhaps, was the point. Why do humans feel compelled to build things in our own image? What does it mean to care for something that isn’t alive?
As the lights dimmed, Maxwell’s words lingered — reminding everyone in the room that empathy, like theater itself, continues to evolve.