ACCELERATOR Artist Profile: Tanya White

By Jazz Zhu

ACCELERATOR is Los Angeles Performance Practice’s flagship artist development program—a nine-month intensive that empowers multidisciplinary artists to build sustainable, visionary, and self-determined creative careers. A thoughtfully-selected cohort of twelve Los Angeles-based artists meets bimonthly to engage in professional development workshops, in-depth mentorship, and peer accountability to design a resilient creative life. By the end of the program, participants will have artist statements that celebrate their whole selves, a personalized strategy for resourcing their practice, and a sustainable approach to producing the work they’re passionate about.

ACCELERATOR cohort member Tanya White is a theater artist working and performing as a playwright, actor, director and teacher. She’s a frequent contributor to storytelling shows in Los Angeles and believes the personal narrative is the foundation for healing collective trauma. She is currently the Artistic Director of Santa Monica Repertory Theater. LAPP’s Jazz Zhu sat down with Tanya over Zoom to learn more.

Can you introduce yourself?

I’m Tanya White. I grew up in the suburbs of Chicago, and from a very early age I liked to perform. I remember being three years old, lying on the carpet and pretending to swim. Performance was not something I was drawn to. It was something I was. I have always been expressive, not for the sake of attention, but as a way of understanding myself and the world. Performance, for me, is a form of expression.

A turning point came during a school field trip to see Dracula. I was transfixed by the vampires, the stage effects, and the way the world of the play was invented right in front of us. Theatre could transport you somewhere else entirely. That sense of world-building is what first pulled me toward art and performance.

When I was sixteen or seventeen, I joined Goodman Theatre’s Young People’s Workshop. It was the first time I had been in a room with others who wanted the same thing I did, inside a major theater. Being part of that community sealed it. I went on to complete four years of conservatory training, studied playwriting independently, and began teaching shortly after.

I moved to Los Angeles in 2001 to write for television. I had no job and no connections. I just loved the work and the possibility of creating worlds across different mediums. I started as an assistant, then became a Director of Development, while continuing to perform in storytelling shows like Write Club Los Angeles and Busted: Stories of Getting Around LA Told by People Who Don’t Drive. A favorite collaboration was Triangle Room, a monthly late night show featuring five women creating new work together. These projects leaned toward poetry and showcasing voices outside of the mainstream.

Over time, I began working with Santa Monica Rep in 2013, and eventually became Artistic Director in 2019. I earned my master’s degree in Poetry and Playwriting in 2016.

My work includes Seven Conversations About Slavery, a performance of poetry written for three voices. The piece is not about the physical cruelty of slavery but explores how slavery has shaped our national character, and how capitalism and white supremacy affect all of us. The piece has grown to include movement and projections and was shared at Highways in 2019.

I am developing Lemon Yellow Kitchen, exploring the afterlife relationship between a Black woman and the white man she raised as they haunt the house occupied by his family displaced by the Palisades fires and Carefully Taught  an ensemble generated project based on a short play.

Can you walk me through a typical day in your life?

I live a fairly isolated life by choice. I walk my dog, answer emails, check social media, write, and apply for opportunities. A lot of my time goes to grant writing. I take the bus, collect Social Security, and write.

ACCELERATOR has been meaningful because it brings me into contact with other artists in a way that feels intentional and sustaining.

Can you talk more about isolation and how it impacts your work?

I love being alone. It gives me confidence in my perspective and allows me to move through the world with less external stimulation. While my work is collaborative, it always begins in solitude.

I think often about Toni Morrison editing, publishing, and raising children while writing. I had to let go of the idea that creativity has to look a certain way. This is my creative self. I have always needed a lot of alone time.

Isolation feeds the work because I feel safe at home. I did not realize how much energy I spent protecting myself when I was out in the world. Being alone gives me the space to express myself fully, without having to perform or take care of anyone else.

What drew you to ACCELERATOR, and how has it been going for you?

That sense of time and spaciousness is part of what drew me to ACCELERATOR. My process is slow, and I wanted accountability and deadlines. I was not going to build that structure alone. Being in leadership positions for many years also made it harder to step back and learn.

The cohort has been grounding. At first, the structure felt overwhelming, but asking for help reminded me that I do not need to know everything. Being a beginner again has been affirming. It helps me recognize my experience while staying open to growth.

Having worked in both Chicago and Los Angeles, what differences have you noticed between the theatre scenes?

In Chicago, theatre is the destination. The culture is deeply grounded in theatre as an art form.

In Los Angeles, theatre often functions as a training space or stepping stone, especially for actors working across mediums.

How do you approach teaching the craft of acting?

Most actors begin with Stanislavski and then branch out. I was especially influenced by Uta Hagen and her emphasis on presence and immediacy. She focused on the difference between imagining circumstances and actually being in them.

I often see younger actors rely on given circumstances as a way to avoid having a real experience. Statements like “my character would not do that” can become limiting. Many teachers end up directing instead of teaching craft. My goal is to help actors trust their instincts.

When your work deals with trauma or potentially activating material, how do you take care of yourself?

I know I am an artist and that this is my work. I am activating something in service of the story, but I know it is not real. Discomfort is not inherently harmful.

If I am working with material that overlaps with my own experience, I know how to care for myself. I do not deny what has happened to me, but I have control over what I choose to express. I would never ask someone to go somewhere they do not want to go. If someone is in distress, the work stops.

We protect each other. As a performer, I use everything, and I no longer feel shame about any part of my experience.

How can BIPOC artists show up for ourselves and each other right now?

We can support each other by taking up space, especially interior space. Solitude can be powerful, and that inner space is valuable. Rest, care, and the release of shame are essential in a world shaped by white supremacy.

Making work and creating spaces to share it matters. The act of sharing is just as important as the content. We need to honor interiority, connect in ways that go beyond words, and keep responding to the world as it is.

A friend recently reminded me that we are only a few relationships removed from slavery. This history lives in people we actually know. As a collective, we are seeing patterns repeat themselves, and what is right and wrong feels increasingly clear. People are beginning to understand that.

Tanya looks out toward the sun.