Review: 300 Paintings, Masterpiece or Manic Episode?

What did you do during the pandemic lockdowns? No matter what you say, Sam Kissajukian’s answer is much more interesting. He painted over 300 works of art during a manic episode, having barely ever held a brush before. Kissajukian tells the full story in 300 Paintings at Vineyard Theatre, a fascinating and moving combination of storytelling show and art exhibit, packed with revelations about creation, mental illness, and midlife crises. As much as I was wowed by Kissajukian’s large-scale paintings, many of which are hung in the lobby of the theater, I was even more wowed by his performance.

The one-man show kicks off with Kissajukian quitting his career in comedy in 2021 after realizing he wanted to connect more deeply with audiences through art. Facing a series of pandemic lockdowns in Australia, he decides to move into an abandoned warehouse and become a painter. During the next five months, Kissajukian produces at least one creation a day, sometimes churning out several works of art in a sleepless 24 hours. At the time, he thought he had finally found his ideal creative outlet. Later, he discovers he was having an extended manic episode, and that his art was as much a display of his altered mental state as it was of his own creativity.

Unaware of his bipolar disorder, Kissajukian’s projects grow into bigger and bigger misadventures. On day one of his painting career, he creates a self-portrait that looks nothing like him, partly because it is of a 90-year-old man. Days two and three have him moving swiftly through modernist motifs. He zips through a “blue period” on Thursday before tiring of Cubism and moving into dioramas. Telling more about where Kissajukian’s projects go from there would spoil the fun, and honestly not make very much sense in print — this is a manic episode after all. But part of the joy is witnessing the inner workings of Kissajukian’s extremely intelligent mind.

It’s easy to see why someone would think his idea for a virtual museum selling NFTs might be worth investing in (before it becomes clear that there is no logic to it, let alone a business plan). During the manic episode, his brain works in overdrive in confounding but beautiful ways. As months go by, his art becomes more stunning. Of course, he is also going deeper into his mania. Aware of this, Kissajukian implores the audience to laugh with him and not to hold back just because he has mental illness. This sets the perfect tone for the comedy and swiftly relieves us of any politically correct impulses that would dampen the proceedings.

The show rests completely on Kissajukian’s ability to hold the audience’s attention, and he does so expertly, pivoting from jokes about paintings of sexy cats to describing how medication has recalibrated his mind without a single awkward beat. Kissajukian says he doesn’t want do comedy anymore and knows nothing about theater, but the stage feels like his natural habitat. The 80 minutes of the show flies by, peppered by projections of his work.

Kissajukian has added a surprise or two at the end that could be easily missed by the audience in the rush to the door. Look around to make sure you get the full experience.

The narrative concludes on an open-ended but satisfying note — it’s clear he has finally found a way to show people his full self, and though he says it’s through his art, it is also through this show. As unique and idiosyncratic as Kissajukian himself, 300 Paintings is a must-see.