“Change doesn’t come whispered in your ear; it comes as a hurricane.” There was more to that strikingly profound quote but at the risk of butchering Nikki Ann Hartman’s beautiful phraseology, I’ll leave it there. It was one of several, one of many, one of more than a handful that really stuck with me while experiencing Doll Parts… a one{trans}-woman show at The Voxel in Baltimore City last night. A friend of mine likes to tease me about how I struggle with the difference between a couple, a few, several, etc. but when I say that line was among many that moved me, believe me that it was, indeed, many. I rarely get so personal in my coverage articles or my reviews, but when a story is this personal and simultaneously universal with accessibility to all human beings, it feels warranted. As a part of The Voxel’s summer residency series, Nikki Ann Hartman’s Doll Parts… plays through July 25^th and is a wholly cathartic, equally joyful, and truly enchanting experience; every effort in all the universe should be made to experience it while its actively vibing with the universe inside of Charm City.

Anyone can tell a story. Not everyone can tell a story in such a way that makes people want to listen d engage with their narrative. What Nikki Ann Hartman is doing in this production is more than just storytelling; it’s transformative journey-guiding. Hartman invites the audience into her world and does so in a universally accessible way, treating the audience to a unique and magical adventure. It’s uplifting, it has deep moments of darkness, there’s a little risqué raunch to it too; there’s humor and heart, sincerity and authenticity, a gauntlet of expressions. The show is cerebral and emotional, charged without being too intense, gentle without feeling like it lingers too long on a shallow surface.  

The production values enmeshed with this theatrically anecdotal experience are sublime. Light, both physically and metaphorically, presents an intrinsic vitality to Hartman’s journey and subsequent storytelling and it’s gloriously interwoven into the overall experience. Lighting Designer Adam Mendelson has not only an exacting understanding of the play space inside The Voxel’s black box staging area but also how to effectively create the illusionary levels of bright and dim, atmosphere and emotion, using a series of floods, spots, washes, and even motion lights which emulate the vast starry universe. There’s one sublime moment of visual ecstasy where the stars— these glimmers of hope in Hartman’s world— dance delicately up and into the audience and you can feel their joy caressing your spirit; it’s brilliant. Mendelson is also owed credit for the various projection designs featured in the production and it, like his lighting work, is impressive. Be it still photographic images, the mesmeric images of the planets— that is truly one of the most hypnotically soothing moments in the performance— or the cacophony of videography when that moment hits— Mendelson’s work is a seamless thread in the journey.

Sound Designer Kaydin Hamby works in tandem with the production team to create these beautiful sweeps of aural experience, all of which are meticulously balanced so that they’re never too loud, too much, or overpowering of Hartman’s words. Hamby, at the preview performance on Tues 7/21, was also working hand-in-hand with the gods themselves, who were providing some ambient soundscapes all their own (the thunderstorm and rain SFX were actually so perfect one sort of hopes for rain the rest of this week…if Hamby and Hartman can convince the gods to execute it exactly as it was last night!) Hamby’s work augments the experience tenfold, gods and their thunderstorms or not; the music informs the mood to certain scenes and burbles it along in others. And the dizzying undercurrent of the news audio during that ‘prepare to flee’ moment is just the right level of intentionally distracting, like an angry wasp in the ear that you can’t drown out; it’s executed flawlessly in that scene.

Scenically the show has this deceptive banality to it; at first glance it’s an interior of someone’s home. Bed, vanity, couch, bookcase, coffee table, wet bar, nothing overly significant to write home about, until the production itself comes to life upon it. The way Scenic Designer Emerson Balthis has laid out the spatial alignment of the furnishings is somewhat of an expression of genius. There are layers in the space, creating a simultaneous vastness and sense of claustrophobic limitations. It’s the inside of Nikki’s home— shrine to women included— and it serves as significant stamps in her story, not just those that take place in her home. While the furnishings may appear ordinary there’s a cleverness to them, much like the way Hartman’s words cleverly play off of one another to fabricate this experience into a pulsating lifeforce of joy. And Timothy Clark’s costume design jives to the same verve. Basic dress blacks with accents here and there but when said accents are revealed and donned and doffed, you get transformative waves that gleefully disrupt that characterization of Nikki’s essence in those moments, watching her transform through all of these significant moments; it’s impressive.

The flow of the show feels natural (shoutout to the gods— director Grace Gilmore Shepperd, Stage Manager Mady Sims and ASM Jadyn Fleming) and at times doesn’t even feel like you’re watching a performance, but have rather been invited to an intimate catch-up session with a dear friend. There’s something inspiring about the way Nikki Ann Hartman envelopes you in her world, as if you’ve always been a part of her experience, as if you’re sitting down over a cup of tea, hearing the latest in her life. Her way of engaging in smart banter with the audience, even when the audience is the silent participant, is a true aphrodisiac for anyone who appreciates good conversation, engaging wit, and earnest expression. There’s truth in the experience without feeling like it’s being forcibly exposed; tempered with vulnerability, balanced with ‘bratty’, all beautiful, all encompassing.

I took so few notes during the production, a personal mark of ‘I was too engaged to be remembering to take notes’ and that’s rare for me. I’ve spent 15 years honing and perfecting my ‘in-the-dark-shorthand’, which I’ll admit at times even I can’t make heads or tales of, but knowing that I was moved enough to not be jotting things down that I would need to remember later is a personal testament to how impactful Hartman’s work is. The way she builds memory distortion into the journey, the way she’s self-aware of the performance, it’s all very clever and yet sincere. There’s cheek (possibly with tongue!) and yet it’s earnest. And those little naughty nuggets that gingerly pepper themselves across the evening? They are saucy and delightful. And Nikki Hartman’s smile is so genuine and authentic, heartily infectious, so much so that in those darker moments— those breakdowns, those panics, those furies— all you want to do is hug her and hold her until that smile returns to grace us all.

There’s a comfortableness about the way Hartman moves through her narrative and through the space. Even in those extremely exposed and vulnerable moments— like the ‘mess in a public waiting room’ part, she’s at ease with herself so fully that she can break down in front of us. And earlier on when she’s describing the encounter with George Osterman— there is this glorious, cathartic reckoning, centuries of release packed into mere sentences; it’s extraordinary and evocative beyond measure. I know I’m tripping over bits and pieces of the show like the various parts that Hartman references, but it’s this beautiful knot of living yarn, weaving its way over and up and through and in and out, to share the experience of becoming a woman late in life and everything that entails for her.

Her wordplay and capability to align words in exactly the right fashion is beyond admirable. She points out the fluidity of words, how they shift and find new meaning with ease and it makes for an awe-striking comparison to her experience as a whole. There’s deliberate intentionality in her word choices, the way she inflects tone and emotion into certain portions of speech; it’s a mesmerizing experience all its own; and yet wholly comforting, even when it’s dark and scary and your heart and soul just bleed for her. But there so much joy, so much uplifting hope carefully massaged into each scene, each step, each sentence; it’s bliss.

I could wax on longer than the 100-minute run time of the production about all my favorite parts, those delightful moments— catching Nikki Ann Hartman’s eye and feeling like that moment of her story was being shared only with me— but it’s so much better if I used my words to encourage you to support this sensational performance, this brave and inspiring woman on her journey. Go see Doll Parts… it’s transformative in its own right and you won’t be sorry that you did.

Running Time: Approximately 100 minutes with no intermission

Doll Parts… plays July 21^st through July 25^th 2026 at The Voxel— 9 W. 25^th Street in Baltimore, MD. Tickets ca be purchased at the door, by calling the box office at 410-929-535 or in advance online.

To read the interview with Nikki Ann Hartman, click here.