When we first meet at Sisters Coffee Company, Hankins is carrying a book that upon closer inspection I realize is actually a paperback journal. Its cover is hand-embellished with a pen-and-ink drawing of a swan gripping a sword in its bill, wreathed by an intricate border of vines.
And with English, Spanish, and Japanese already under his belt, why not? There, he took up theater as an extracurricular before enrolling in the study-abroad program that would take him to Spain, where the earliest seeds of Faena were sown.
I like being kind of wrong and perverted. The profane and the religious. How do we combine them? Faena is the result of his most recent effort to answer his own question, and the story of its genesis, like the play itself, begins with the matador. At this juncture it might be helpful to clarify a few terms. Contrary to popular belief, it is the motion of the muleta rather than the color red that riles the bull. Red is just the optimal pigment for concealing bloodstains, a common occupational hazard in the business of bullfighting.
Most importantly, he carries an estoque, or sword, which is strategically concealed behind the muleta until the moment is right. Traditionally a bullfight consists of three acts, or tercios , each with its own main character. In the first act, the tercio de vara , the picadors, enter on horseback to stab the bull with their lances, both aggravating and weakening it. During his time abroad, Hankins found himself captivated by the culture of bullfighting, and particularly by the figure of the matador.
They hit it off, and their connection leads to an interspecies sexual encounter. Once they return to the ring, the matador and the bull find that their newfound intimacy has irreversibly altered their relationship. They are unable to kill each other.
