A little bit about me...

My name is Gaven, rhymes with raven​. I am a first gen Filipinx American, and I use the pronouns they, he, siya. I'm a proud storyteller born and raised in the East Village and have lived in Pennsylvania, Tennessee, and Massachusetts. I've worked as an artist and/or arts administrator in various capacities over the past decade at companies throughout NYC and the country, such as New York Theater Workshop, Roundabout Theatre Company, Chalk Rep, IAMA Theatre, and Ma-Yi Theatre to name a few. My work centers on BIPOC, queer, and immigrant stories. As someone living with Bipolar Disorder I, I advocate for caring and thoughtful representation of mental health on-and-off stage. Outside of theatre, I play the guitar and write love songs for past and future lovers (currently single and spending hours on the apps); I attend stand-up comedy; play around with graphic design (thus I created a webpage for my application); and I love to volunteer for youth programs because as Whitney once sang, "I believe the children are our future." I live in the East Village with my 13-year-old dog Ripley.

What continues to fuel my work in theatre is a memory of attending a play with my little brother...

When I was fifteen and my brother was five, I bought us $20 rush tickets to attend a performance of Disney's Tarzan on Broadway. (Don't you miss those earlier days of rush tickets?) Though I remember leaving the theatre not necessarily moved by the spectacle and overall storytelling of the show (and other questions regarding the colonialism and racism in the original source material), what I remember vividly was watching my brother experience his very first Broadway show. My little brother was never into fairy tales and fantasy, he never wanted to play make-believe. He was very much a child who loved science and facts. When we first entered the theatre and took our front row center seats, he pointed at the set and exclaimed smugly, "Those are not real vines, they are just ropes painted green." However, his defensive walls began breaking down once the play started. In a pivotal scene early in the musical, boy Tarzan is with his gorilla mother lamenting how he wasn't accepted by the other young gorillas. Mama Tarzan takes his hand and asks, "What is this?" He replies, "Your hand, my hand." Then she takes his hand and places it on her chest. "What is this?" "Your heart, my heart." After that exchange between mother and son, I felt a tug on my sleeve. I turned towards my brother. He had tears streaming down his face, learning at that very moment about care, love, and empathy for others. Then this five-year-old let himself cry as Phil Collins' Oscar Award-winning song "You'll Be In My Heart" blasted through the sound system.

It's this singular memory that reminds me how theatre is a transformative tool, and it's a gift to be a theatremaker, witnessing together with strangers in a dark room how beautifully the world could be.

A STORY PAINTED ON MY BODY...

Recently, I've been exploring Filipino customs rooted in the diverse heritage of my family across the 7,000 islands of the Philippines. My maternal grandfather hails from the Visayas region, where Spanish colonizers first imposed the term "pintados" on the indigenous people for their tattooed bodies. Despite centuries of colonial influence from Spain and the United States, the ancient tradition of Filipino tattoos, akin to Polynesian and Samoan practices, is experiencing a revival among younger generations of Filipinos and Filipino Americans.

For my 33rd birthday, inspired by my grandfather's heritage, I decided to commemorate a milestone in my life with a tattoo. Following the tradition of Western Visayas, I chose the symbol of the "kappi" or crab—a representation of travel and the god Mauig (or Maui). Collaborating with a specialist versed in tradition, I narrated the tale of Bakunawa, a mythical dragon from Filipino folklore. This story, recounting Bakunawa's attempt to devour the moons and the people's intervention, was used by early islanders to explain lunar eclipses.

While this practice differs from that of my grandfather's island, I'm moved by the belief of the Kalinga tribe in Northern Luzon. They maintain that our ancestors will recognize us in the afterlife by the tattooed stories we bear. This notion resonates deeply with me, as I view it as a means of storytelling that bridges generations.

​Fun fact: The same Filipino tattoo specialist also inked my cousin's skin.

MOST PROUD OF...

I believe theatre is a tool to teach empathy, civic duty, and the skills to be a well-rounded human.

When I have the chance, I volunteer at The 52nd Street Project, a theatre education program that serves the young people of Hell's Kitchen. I've had the joy of collaborating with young people who are learning to express themselves through theatre. When a young person I've worked with takes the stage and shares who they are unapologetically, I cannot help but be proud to be a theatremaker.

Here is a video of me and my teen partner Logan at dress rehearsal singing a song he wrote for his 10-minute play! Closed captions are accessible at the bottom of the video's window.

WHAT MAKES ME LAUGH (AND CRY)

Just like anyone else, there are times when I just need to cry... Or maybe that's just me. So, I've made a playlist on YouTube of shorts that make me cry. What's ridiculous is that while I'm crying, I start laughing at myself.

A lot of the videos feature siblings meeting for the first time, wedding proposals, and dogs. Yeah, I have a lot of feelings. Closed captions are accessible at the bottom of the video's window, and all videos are subtitled.

Click here for full playlist

If you want to learn more about my theatrical work, click here!