In Conversation with: Mina Orak

Reading Time: 3 minutesThe Little Death follows me, a spirited young Turkish woman on an epic quest to  find something profoundly missing in my life—an orgasm. Complicating matters, I  have a fictional disease called Cantcumalitis, which gives me just six months to  live. Through a series of hilarious and often chaotic misadventures, the show  explores my internal struggles with intimacy and self-acceptance. The narrative  intertwines personal revelations with absurd, theatrical elements, creating a  poignant yet twisted exploration love and the urgency of living fully. 

Reading Time: 3 minutes

https://kingsheadtheatre.com/whats-on/the-little-death

Hi Mina! How are you doing today? Tell us about your show, The Little Death?  

Hi! I’m like a whimsical kite soaring through a gentle fog—full of vibrant energy but  wistful. 

The Little Death follows me, a spirited young Turkish woman on an epic quest to  find something profoundly missing in my life—an orgasm. Complicating matters, I  have a fictional disease called Cantcumalitis, which gives me just six months to  live. Through a series of hilarious and often chaotic misadventures, the show  explores my internal struggles with intimacy and self-acceptance. The narrative intertwines personal revelations with absurd, theatrical elements, creating a  poignant yet twisted exploration of love and the urgency of living fully. 

What can audiences expect from a show like The Little Death?  

Audiences can expect The Little Death to be a wild and unforgettable ride. The  show is a bold mix of comedy, cabaret, and deeply personal storytelling, all  wrapped up in a vibrant, theatrical package. With surreal CGI projections, a live  drag queen, and a dynamic soundtrack, the performance is visually striking and  emotionally charged. Viewers will be taken on a journey that’s both hilarious and  poignant, as the show dives into themes of sexuality, identity, and the pressure to  find fulfillment. Expect to laugh, reflect, and be moved by a story that balances  psychotic glamour with raw vulnerability. 

How did you come up with the name for the show and why do you feel it is important to stage a show like this now?  

In therapy! I had my first session with a sex therapist, and naturally, the  conversation veered into my obsession with death. It’s something I think about  daily—I mean, I’ve got about 65 books on the topic! So there I was, bouncing back  and forth between talking about sex and death because, really, what else is there?  The two universal truths: we come into this world through sex, and then,  eventually, we die.  

At one point, he asked me, “What does an orgasm mean to you?” And I replied,  “Well, it’s like this door that opens just a crack for a split second, and I always miss  it. So I find myself trying to peer through the peephole, kind of like how I feel about  death and what might come after life.” Ugh, I know—so cliché: sex and death.  Maybe it’s a Scorpio sun and rising thing, who knows? 

Then he said, “Ah, la petite mort,” and I was like, “Ah, oui!” And just like that, the  name revealed itself. 

I think this is important because I feel stuck, torn between two ways of being and  feeling—and I believe many women can relate. Part of me wants to embrace my  wild side, to be free, to experience whatever I want with whoever I want and feel 

empowered by that. But I also believe there are emotional consequences if you  don’t understand where your actions are coming from. And honestly, sometimes, I  just want to be held. Oh, and let’s not forget the orgasm gap—still far from closing,  so maybe that’s something we should also be focusing on! 

What are other queer creatives that you admire?  

I’m fascinated by a range of queer artists across various fields, even if their work  may not always be explicitly queer. In classical music, I deeply appreciate the  compositions of Francis Poulenc. As a lifelong fan of children’s literature, Maurice  Sendak’s enchanting and imaginative stories hold a special place in my heart. On  the darker side, I admire the intense works of Ron Athey, Narcissister, and Francis  Bacon. A couple more Leigh Bowery and Lorraine Hansberry. 

The queer influence in my own show is significantly shaped by co-director Justin  Atkins, who draws inspiration from a diverse array of queer creatives. Among these  are underground artist and performer Ayesha Erotica, the whimsical Julio Torres,  and the iconic Pete Burns. Each of these individuals contributes uniquely to their  respective fields, enriching the broader tapestry of queer art and culture. 

If you could describe the show in 5 words, what would you say?  Bold, Genuine, Shameless, Reflective and Chaotic!  

How does it feel to have your vagina make its professional debut at The King’s Head Theatre? 

A question I never thought I’d be asked—but here we are! Funny enough, it  actually feels natural, almost like me (Mina) making a debut is the stranger part.  She deserves the stage, with so many stories to tell and secrets to spill. But don’t  expect a straight answer—she’s had media training, after all! 

All jokes aside, though, nothing about this feels weird. This is a story, just one part  of my story as Mina. This is the path I’m on right now, and I accept and embrace it  fully. It feels like this is exactly where I’m meant to be at this moment.

What are your thoughts?

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