Andrea Patterson: Center Stage – a new helen emerges

Photos by Joshua D. Pryam @joshpyram @350studiosllc

There are some conversations that don’t just stay on the surface—they open doors. To reflection, to memory, to legacy. This one is no exception.

In this exchange between actor Andrea Patterson and Black Girls Do Theater founder Renee Harrison, we move through more than just a performance—we move through process, presence, and power. From Helen of Troy to Helen reimagined, Andrea shares how she stepped into a role shaped as much by lineage as by imagination, and what it means to be trusted with the kind of collaboration that transforms not just a character, but the room itself.

Together, Andrea and Renee reflect on memory, mentorship, the radical intimacy of rehearsal spaces, and the deep specificity it takes to honor a role written onto your body. What emerges is not only a portrait of a brilliant performer—but a love letter to the creative process, and the Black women who keep showing up for it, fully.

This is Black Girls Do Theater.  this is Andrea Patterson.

Renee Harrison: I’m realizing that I might be one of the few people who actually know how Helen came to you.

Andrea Patterson: You mean the direct offer?

RH: Yes, the offer itself.

AP: So, I’ve done several productions with the Classical Theater of Harlem. I shared with you that years ago I understudied Roslyn Ruff when she was playing Lady M in the Scottish play, which is a beast. You know what I mean. I don’t hold Shakespeare’s work in any higher regard than I do Dominique Morisseau’s work. Honestly, with the work we’ve seen recently, Dominique’s reigns supreme in my mind.

But to tackle text with that kind of intensity is something the Classical Theater of Harlem has seen me do. I actually went on for Lady M extensively during that run. It was a beautiful lesson because I had played other characters before, but none that central to the story.

I think that’s what allowed them to think of me for Helen. I think the Classical Theater of Harlem remembered me and recognized my work. Seize the King was another play I did — I think it was in 2020 or 2021 — and the Obie Award I received was actually for the entire season.

RH: Say it again. Say it again.

AP: The Obie Award was inclusive of that play, also written by Will Power, and it was within that season. So I’m pretty sure they remembered. And hello — anybody who knows me knows I’ll throw a “hello” out there just to do a quick check-in. But yeah, I think they remembered me. The made-for-TV version.

RH: Okay. Amazing. I thought it was important to talk about how you got here, because so often it can seem like it’s just luck, or right place, right time. But the reality is, this is years of work. Years of hard work.

AP: My first production with Classical Theatre of Harlem was right after college. I was one of the three witches in an earlier production of The Scottish Play. And it was so funny because one of the wig designers from that show, I can't quite figure it out, but she’s designing wigs for this production too, including Helen’s hair. I was telling her that I’d worked with Classical Theatre of Harlem before, but always in smaller, supporting roles. She said, “You, for real?” And I was like, yeah, sis always been me.

But that doesn’t mean everybody knows who you are. Back to our earlier point, you have to know who you are in order to be you. We use words like “unapologetic” all the time, but truly, if you feel the need to apologize for who you are, then maybe you're at odds with yourself. And if you are, the question is why.

You have to resolve that before someone is able to look at you and say, “Oh, I see it.” I'm not saying that’s all of what this is, but I do think once you put in the work and pay your dues, which, trust me, the years add up, then you have to be ready to step into it fully. I can't bring the energy of knocking on doors anymore. I’ve been knocking for a long time. So when you invite me in, I have to be ready. Dressed, smelling good, ready to sit down and talk. I can’t still be standing at the door saying, “Are you sure?” Bust the door down. Walk in and ask, “Can I have something to drink? Do you have any ice?”

RH:  Let’s dive into Memnon. This is our first time being able to talk in depth about it. We spoke about how the role came to you last summer in LA, but we hadn’t spoken much, if at all, about your process behind it.

Too, we have to acknowledge that this is the first time that we're actually hearing Helen speak. In Aeschylus’s Agamemnon Helen never appear, yet her absence shapes the entire war. In Euripides is Helen, she's never even in Troy at all. However, in Memnon, she finally steps onto the stage. And so what does it mean for you to give presence and voice to someone history has often spoken about, but rarely heard from?

AP: Giving voice to someone who's been spoken around, I think it's hysterical, right? That no one even attempted to create this character because they were too busy blaming her. So why would you humanize the person you’ve decided is at fault for everything? I think you kind of disprove your own point when you do that.

It took us getting to this moment in time, where we're starting to understand, objectively, what it means to be full and complete people. Whether that’s men truly seeing women, or one ethnicity seeing another, or confronting the racial constructs we have in the U.S. (and globally, though it’s always been global), we’re finally beginning to look at each other, even if we’re not ready to have the full conversation or accept what we see.

Giving voice to Helen right now is the culmination of a lot of things. And for me to be doing it? Honestly, it just makes so much sense. I’m someone, and I’m not necessarily proud of this, but it is what it is, I’m probably someone who says what most people wouldn’t. And I think I’ve always been like that. So giving voice to Helen, right now, in this way, feels absolutely right. Overdue.

RH: Mhmm

AP: Too, our team is just such a lovely group of people, everyone from our director to the designers to the cast. And the woman understudying Helen, her name is Kate [Alston], she is a brilliant artist as well. She and I were having a conversation about August Wilson’s *The Piano Lesson*.

AP: It was her first time reading it. She’s in grad school right now, and we were talking about the women in the story. As she shared her initial thoughts, she had questions about how those women existed in the world of the play. She didn’t fully understand why their voices felt so small. As a really liberated, free young woman, she said, “I need to see more. I want to know more of these women.”

And here we are, telling the story of a woman we haven’t heard much from at all. Yet in *The Piano Lesson*, those women felt, at least to her, underwritten. Their lives and who they were weren’t fully shared. So we began a conversation about what those characters weren’t saying. I asked her, “If you were to play one of them, what could you determine about their silence? And how loudly does that silence speak? If you were to write an amendment to the piece, what would you say?”

That cracked something open for me around Helen. What she’s saying now, and what she still hasn’t said. And our playwright has given her a voice in a way that, in so many plays, we’ve only hoped for.

RH: Right. I want to stay with this dynamic between you and Kate. You originated this Helen, but Kate is only coming in now for this Classical Theatre of Harlem production. What has that co-creation process looked like? Has she introduced anything that felt new to you?

AP: Well, as the understudy, I haven’t seen her work yet. We’ve been deep in rehearsals, trying to find what feels right for the New York premiere.

But now that we’re sharing a dressing room during tech, during those grueling hours, she was reading *The Piano Lesson* again, and our conversation just opened up. So many of the questions she asked connected to thoughts I had already been having about Helen. That’s why I brought it up. She was so curious. And the kinds of questions she asked were the kind that excite me.

We both talked about how much we love conversation, how much we crave it, and how rarely we get it. And it was a beautiful moment. She said, “I don’t want to bother you or interrupt your process.” But it reminded me of when I was an understudy at Classical Theater of Harlem, under Roslyn Ruff. Roslyn was so kind to me. So gracious. She made me feel like I belonged in the room, like I could just talk to her. So in that same spirit, it felt radical just to talk. And I loved Kate for that.

That might have been the most extensive conversation we’ve had, but I think we forget what a gift it is to really share a conversation. Even beyond *Memnon*, that moment grounded me. It’s part of why I love talking with you too. Like when we met in LA, I was flying out right after, but I said, “I’m going to see you no matter what.” Because some conversations have to continue.

RH: Yes. And Roslyn is just such a grounding presence. She listens deeply. She welcomes in our process. And I think what you just said is so important, about how rare it can feel to simply be invited to figure it out together. I think I speak for a lot of Black women navigating this industry when I say we’re grateful for you. And for women like Roslyn. Because sometimes that boundary between who we are and who we’re becoming feels hard to cross. So thank you.

AP: Absolutely. And getting into the specifics of Helen, her quirks, her silences, her shifts, has made me reflect on the parts of myself I’ve kept quiet. Things I’ve wanted to say but haven’t. That conversation with Kate reminded me, sometimes the boundary you’re up against isn’t even another person. Sometimes it’s you.

RH: Mm-hmm. For sure.

AP: I’m still figuring out Helen’s “why.” I’ve been talking about it with our director, Carl Colfield, our playwright, Will Power, and our associate director, Kanika Asavari Vaish. Because once you know the why, it shifts everything. Your objective might stay the same, but your action becomes more nuanced. And honestly, it’s made me ask myself the same question. Andrea, what’s your why right now? As actors, it can feel like we’re cheating at life because we get to study ourselves so closely.

And if I’m being honest, I really want to tell these kinds of stories on TV and in film too. I’ve done some television and I want to do more. I literally texted my manager like, “Now that I’m in this beautiful Helen costume, we have to call The Gilded Age.” Because when you feel the connection, when the storytelling is flowing through your body, you owe it to yourself to follow it.

Sometimes that means making yourself uncomfortable. Sometimes it means getting out of your own way. And maybe that’s what Kate had to work through too, just to ask that first question. I don’t know. But I’m glad she did.

Photos by Joshua D. Pryam @joshpyram @350studiosllc

AP: I think even children, right? Children, women, especially going back to The Piano Lesson. There’s a way we just don’t hear from certain people. You never really hear from a child until they become an adult. You don’t get their full thought or story unless someone creates space to listen.

Helen, the way the play is written, has been in Troy for over ten years. At that point, Troy feels more like home to her than where she’s from. She’s internalized the traditions there. I was telling Kate that dramaturgically, children were conditioned to be seen and not heard. That’s a dangerous idea. Especially for a young woman. That mindset was present in Sparta, where Helen is from. But in Troy, she’s recognized for her brilliance by the king and by Hector, their most revered soldier.

Paris brought her there, but he turned out to be more looks than substance. That fell flat. Helen wanted to escape what made her small. That’s what Paris was — a means to an end.

In Troy, we see her influence political decisions. We see her use intellect to inform her power. People assume her confidence comes from her beauty, but I disagree. When someone compliments me physically, I think, “That’s for you to enjoy.” What excites me is my mind. My thoughts. My curiosity.

That’s why Helen and Andrea are a good match. My mind is a quirky place. The way I think, the rooms I’ve been in, that’s where I move people. Helen is the same. There’s a Greek phrase for her, kalon kakon, which translates to “beautiful-ugly.” They believed someone who was intellectually brilliant gained beauty status, regardless of looks. That flips our modern idea of beauty on its head.

Helen opens the play thinking. We don’t hear her speak right away. We just see her strategizing. That goes back to our conversation. What is she not saying? And when she finally speaks, what does she choose to say?

That blows my mind. Because when your moment comes, and you finally get to speak, you can’t say everything you’ve ever wanted to say. You have to be precise. You have to ask, what do I want? How do I get it? Don’t pretend you don’t want anything. I used to be like, “I’m chill, I’m not thirsty.” But does that mean I don’t want something? Oh, so now I’m lying?

RH: Somebody’s lying.

AP: Somebody is lying. And it’s you, sis.

So when Helen speaks, everything the playwright gives her is narrative. She sets it up. This is what I want. I’m going to tell you why. Then I’m going to ask for it. I love that. Her speech is tied to desire, not just expression. That makes it more interesting.

I probably still didn’t answer your question, but I think we got something.

RH: You answered two questions actually. The one I asked, and the follow-up I was planning, which was about how the play’s cultural framework shapes Helen’s identity. And I think you answered that with great precision. How long have you been with Helen at this point? Has it been a year?

AP: Yeah, I think it’s just about a year. Maybe a month shy. It’s crazy. I don’t know if you listen to J. Cole?

RH: I do. I love J. Cole.

AP: There’s this song I love called Punching the Clock, from his album The Off-Season. I’m a runner, and I remember running when that track came on. There’s this excerpt from an athlete talking about what you do in the off-season. For me, that’s summer. And I go hard in the summer. I train like I’m preparing for something. Some of it is unconscious, but most of it is very intentional.

Last summer, that’s what I was doing. Then I got the call. “We start in two days.” No problem. I had been training in the off-season. The on-season was starting in 48 hours. I was ready.

That doesn’t mean I was in Helen’s full glory by the time we went up in LA. But I was figuring it out. And now, a year later, I was just talking to the playwright last night after our first preview, and he said, “Yeah, I think we got it.”

Coming from the playwright, that meant a lot. I love new work. It’s my thing. Developing, workshopping, finding what it’s going to be. I asked him, “Is there anything you’d change?” Because I can change. Helen can come to life in new ways without altering the text. He said, “No. I said everything I needed to say.” And that made me feel good.

It’s hard to be decisive when we’re creating. When is it ready? When am I ready? When am I perfect? Is it 20 pounds lighter? Is it short hair? Is it braids? Accepting the thing in its current state, that’s beautiful.

A year later, I’m in a more informed place. I know her better. And I think that’s a good thing. The New York premiere is going to be different.

RH: And with knowing her better, do you feel like you know yourself a little better too?

AP: Renee, you're a troublemaker.

RH: I am.

Installation view of Mickalene Thomas: All About Love at The Broad, Los Angeles, May 25–September 29, 2024. Photo by Joshua White/JWPictures.com, courtesy of The Broad.

AP: One of the things that helped me deepen my understanding of Helen, and really to answer your question about whether I know myself more now, is the idea of the alter ego. I’m very much aware of my own alter ego. There’s a self-portrait by Mickalene Thomas at The Broad that really captured it for me. In the image, she’s wearing a lime green shirt with bold jewelry, makeup, and hair. It reminded me of when kids play dress-up, like when my daughters put on my heels or dresses. They’re not impersonating me, but doing a version of what they think adulthood looks like. A kind of caricature.

That photo made me think about ego, and it sent me into a tailspin. Because I do have an ego. We all do. Mine is just pronounced. She has traits, qualities, preferences. And thinking of Helen as a version of my alter ego, because she really is, was a gift. A gift in casting, but also a personal invitation to step into that part of myself.

I made a decision after I was nominated for the Drama Desk Award alongside Phylicia Rashad, Ruth Negga, and Michelle Wilson. I told myself, this is a moment to be acknowledged among women whose work I deeply respect. I made a promise that I would no longer take on any work that didn’t align with who I’m becoming. I promised myself that.

So now, when something comes across my desk, if it’s not a resounding yes, I have to say no. And that’s hard. Because sometimes I want to try. I want to give something a shot. But if it doesn’t line up, I have to honor the no too.

In that alignment, Helen came to me. And when I stepped into that alter, into that part of my ego, and we made peace, I was able to tell a story that changed me. I think it changed the storytelling too. Because Helen, in her own way, is constantly confronting her ego. The alter is the text. The play is the altar. And when you step into the text, you honor the words.

That connects back to my conversation with Kate, and this idea of what’s said and unsaid. I was talking with our director and our playwright about a cut that happened late in the process, right before tech. We were all collaborating on how to pivot from there. And I learned something powerful. It’s not always worth saying more than you need to. That’s a life lesson.

To be able to edit your own work, to cut something, that’s hard. But it’s necessary. And when our playwright made that decision, I said thank you. Because I realized I’d been focusing too much on the verbal language. But we have so many languages available to us. There’s body language, breath, the eyes, decisions, intention. There’s language in what you choose not to say.

So it’s not just silence for silence’s sake. It’s a choice. You are choosing when to speak.

I think this whole journey with Helen, and the alter ego, taught me a lot. And I do feel closer to her now. I’m really excited for the New York premiere because of that.

RH: You've now helped author a Helen that feels wholly original and wholly yours. What do you hope future productions carry forward from what you have built?

AP: My initial thought is: allow for collaboration, and allow the hierarchy to dissipate. That happens in the room so naturally—just based on how things have been set up. Yes, we all have our specific practices: mine is acting, our playwright’s is writing, our director’s is directing, our designers are designing. But collaboration is the biggest gift we have.

Being invited to collaborate the way I have, to have my thoughts, my choices, my ideas inform what this Helen became, that’s a gift. Not just for me, but for our playwright, for the production, and for the audience. Because sometimes you’re given a gift, and you don’t even realize the fullness of it until months or years later.

Photos by Joshua D. Pryam @joshpyram @350studiosllc

I think that's our goal as theater makers: to tell stories in a way that gives humanity the hope, something to consider, to give us the ability to keep going and not fall into desolation. I really believe that. I know it sounds deeply emotional, but truly I think it's practical too. To have something that you really want to think about when you wake up in the morning. that's what makes sense for me. I think that's what I would love to see theater makers walk away with after this. 

And like you said, having a hand in the authorship of this Helen, I want to see more actual collaboration in the process of building stories. There are so many brilliant actors who may not be writers, but who can deeply inform the work. And honestly, we could spend this whole conversation talking about Celeste Jennings. What she did with this New York Helen—the dramaturgy, the care, the intentionality—it supported me in ways I have to give her just as much credit as the director and the writer.

Because let’s just name it: when you see me, you see a Black woman. You see this curve. Celeste saw it too and she said, that curve has a sword. I joke with my daughter that when I slip into my mother tongue, my people from Detroit, it’s like I’m going into patois. Because there are things I need to say, and I can only say them in that language, in that dialect.

That’s what Celeste did with that costume. It wasn’t bought. It was built from the ground up. It says things Helen hasn’t been able to say. The costume is speaking.

So truly, collaboration is my answer. One thousand percent. That’s what I want people to follow in.

RH: Too, if there is a gap anywhere [in the process], then you are not going to experience the fullness of the world that you're living in. And so we are deeply grateful to you Miss Celeste Jennings for bringing forth Memnon in the way that you have.

AP: When you see Helen's costume, when you see this dress and you understand the lengths that she had to go through to bring this dress to life, you understand the process. And I understand now, all of the people that had to touch and bring this design to life, like John Christensen built this, his studio built this dress. I've never had that experience in my life.

RH: Wow.

AP: Getting a costume built for me from the ground up.

RH: I hope and pray that all the days of your life, you get to see you in the way that the rest of us do. Really and truly. Because I understand, yes that has never happened before, but it also feels just right, just perfect. I mean that with every ounce of my being. Suddenly I want to go change my clothes because I'm like, was this made for me? 

AP: Honestly, it's changed my thoughts too. I'm like, you know what, I don't want it.

RH: I can't have it. This wasn't made with me in mind.

AP: Renee it’s totally different. Having something tailor made to you, whether it is costume or story, when something fits your shape, because I am specific, my sounds are specific, my body is specific, my face, like my energy, and to have things tailor made to you is stunning. And that's what collaboration allows you to do it allows you to tailor, it allows you to find the right measurements and the right fit and the right execution. So I can't say enough of how much that is my answer. I'm the most proud of that answer. Thank you for asking such a thought provoking questions. I really appreciate this conversation so much.

RH: Thank you. This feels like any conversation that we could have had. I'm rested in my couch right now because we could be back in LA at that Hotel restaurant—

AP: Yes. Yes. So stunning.

RH: I just thank you so much for welcoming in this experience, for thinking of Black Girls Do Theater, for thinking of me. I absolutely adore you, and I cannot wait to come see you absolutely stun on stage, darling. 

AP: Thank you. Thank you. I love Black Girls Do Theater. I love what you're doing. I love the community that comes out of this. I've been thinking about Nikia Mathis as well and the way that so many of us are, finding our way into community through the thing that we love. So I really can't wait to see you and find another boutique hotel to sit down and have food with talk. Thank you so much for making time to talk to me

RH: It’s always a pleasure.