“300 PAINTINGS”: McCarter Theatre Center, in association with Octopus Theatricals, has presented “300 Paintings.” Created and performed by Sam Kissajukian (above), the one-person show ran October 29-November 2 at McCarter’s Matthews Theatre. (Photo by David Li)

By Donald H. Sanborn III

In 2021 Sam Kissajukian, a comedian based in Sydney, Australia, walked away from a successful career that had lasted over a decade. According to a biography published in the program for 300 Paintings, a solo show created and performed by Kissajukian, he “had been working professionally as a stand-up comedian for 12 years until he became disillusioned by his career and quit.”

In June 2021 Kissajukian “experienced a six month manic episode followed by a debilitating five month depressive episode,” the program note continues. “In May 2022, he was diagnosed with bipolar. Since seeking treatment, Sam’s life was transformed by his newfound stability. After a year hiatus, Sam began performing again in September 2022. He created … 300 Paintings as a way to tell his story, fusing comedy and visual art to explore the Bipolar mind.” The title derives from the artwork Kissajukian created during the time period described in the show.

At first glance, it might seem like a bit of a misnomer to classify 300 Paintings as a work of theater. At the least, it initially feels like the use of a broad definition of the term. Early in the 90-minute monologue, the comedian-turned-artist himself quips, “I’m not from theater; I’m from Australia!”

In form, 300 Paintings essentially is a standup comedy act — albeit at times a contemplative, even poignant one — with a slideshow added. The only “set” is a screen on which the titular artwork is projected; the only “props” are a small table and a glass of water. (The program credits two creative team members: Lighting Consultant Avery Reagan and Creative Consultant Sarah Stern.) There is no printed script — which, Kissajukian jokes, attracts producers to the project.

Nevertheless, over the course of the show, as he discusses with wry candor both his manic episode and the paintings (along with some other idiosyncratic pursuits) that it yielded, Kissajukian reveals a journey that is innately theatrical — not just in presenting a clear evolution (both in media and in personality), but in embodying perceptible components of theater.

McCarter Theatre presented 300 Paintings from October 29 to November 2. Previous performances have taken place at Edinburgh Fringe Festival (where it won the Lustrum Award for Outstanding Show); Vineyard Theatre; and American Repertory Theater (A.R.T.). For his work on the show, Kissajukian received a 2025 Drama Desk nomination for Outstanding Solo Performance.

Kissajukian relates that, having decided to leave his comedy career, he resolved to take up painting. One of the first things he did was to don a beret. Put another way: having decided to fill the role of an artist, he put on a costume.

An unused cake factory became an artist’s studio. Having found a new role to fill, and a costume, the budding painter lodged himself a setting, which became both his workspace and his living quarters. Ensconced there, he painted ceaselessly for six months. Noting the building’s previous function, Kissajukian dryly describes himself as “a bun in the oven.”

If Kissajukian was the metaphorical protagonist in his determination to become a painter, the antagonists were — aside from the artist’s inner demons — early naysayers, among them the artist’s associates from the comedy world, whose feedback was prompt and certain. (Early in the slideshow, we see “portraits,” ostensibly of these critics, which do little to resemble their subjects.)

One bit of advice he received was that his initial works were too big, that he should create pieces that were smaller in size. His response was to create miniature paintings that could fit into dioramas — inhabit their own space. (Probably) without realizing it, he had stumbled into the process followed by theatrical scenic designers, who create miniature models of their sets.

Kissajukian relates that in an attempt to emulate Leonardo da Vinci, who was an inventor as well as a painter, he started attempting to come up with his own inventions. One of these was a digital museum for his paintings. Another was a series of rare pennies on which a unique design was hand-painted. Yet another was a t-shirt, dyed with bleach, with a unique logo and the brand name “Pisscasso.”

He describes a self-imposed whirlwind schedule in which he would create these inventions in the morning, and try to sell them at night. He actually attracted interest in some of his ideas.

But his manner of conducting business would generally be considered to be a textbook example of how not to network. He recounts that in crafting a business plan, he used a template but rearranged the segments as though they were nothing more than material for a work of art; another time, when one firm, in exasperation, offered to pay him to walk away, he defiantly haggled for more money, ending negotiations when his outrageous terms were rejected.

In tandem with the images, Kissajukian’s matter-of-fact delivery takes us along on these adventures, keeping our rapt attention. The show has the trappings of a humorous memoir, and unfolds like one.

But what seems clear is that the artist’s mind was working too fast, and that he was keeping an unhealthy schedule. 300 Paintings takes a more sober turn as Kissajukian discusses his mental health, as we view a diagram of stages connected with bipolar disorder.

When faced with the matter of how to end the show, Kissajukian — true to form — avoids referring to the conclusion as an “ending,” but rather than a “new beginning.” He invites us to go out into the lobby and view a selection of his paintings.

Viewing the paintings makes clear that — despite the artist’s mental health at the time of their inception, and the eccentric circumstances under which they were created — Kissajukian has considerable talent. His black and white paintings, which have compelling titles such as “You’re Not Dark and Mysterious, You’re Just Scared” and “Intergenerational Armor,” demonstrate skill in working with the sense of depth offered by varying shades of gray.

Some of their works suggest influences ranging from Picasso to Pollack. Other pieces, or specifically their title cards, highlight the wit that characterizes the show. A red-painted canvas, on which numbers are stylized in black, is titled “This is Not a Puzzle.” The description reads, “This is indeed the first eleven numbers on my Credit Card.”

Despite the chaotic nature of Kissajukian’s life during the six months described in 300 Paintings, there remains almost a sense of inevitability, or at least of rhyme. There is a clear progression of leaving comedy, to undertaking visual art, to discovering a way to combine the two. This blending of media, along with a clear artistic and personal journey, is inherently theatrical.

Created and Performed by Sam Kissajukian, “300 Paintings” was presented October 29-November 2 at McCarter’s Matthews Theatre. To learn more about Sam Kissajukian’s work, visit samkissajukian.com. For information about McCarter’s upcoming events, visit McCarter.org.