Photographer Robert Mapplethorpe took the art world by storm (in more ways than one) in a 1989 exhibit in New York that shocked, stunned and brought down an avalanche of censorship attempts by the likes of Sen. Jesse Helms.

Sex was Mapplethorpe’s subject; his work explicit and uncompromising, and features the type of sex play most parents hope their kids never discover: sadomasochism.

The 1989 exhibit scandalized the right wing; so much so, in fact, that pressure forced the Corcoran Gallery to cancel the show two weeks before opening. It opened instead at the Washington Project for the Arts to record attendance.

Now actor/playwright Brian Quirk brings us a 41-character one-man show inspired by that exhibit to 6th@Penn Theatre through Feb. 23.

Quirk plays everyone from neighbors (“I come to support the family – to this homo crap? This is sicko.”) to Mapplethorpe’s grandmother (“He liked pretty things. Well, I guess that includes men.”) to an art critic (“Of course I’m bitter: 25 years as an art critic?”) to Mapplethorpe’s high school art teacher (“Into my class walked this girly-boy.”) to miscellaneous dazed art patrons (“I’m trying to perfect my unfazed-by-anyone-in-New-York look; is it working?”).

Luminaries such as Diana Vreeland, Andy Warhol and Patti Smith are here. Even more impressive, Quirk “plays” some of Mapplethorpe’s photographic subjects, explaining in candid and often affecting prose the attractions of such socially taboo practices as S&M and self-mutilation.

Mapplethorpe is the equivalent of a writer who does not mince words. Mapplethorpe’s images are direct, even in-your-face, though he maintained in a 1988 interview in Art News that shock was not his purpose.

“I don’t like that particular word ‘shocking.’ I’m looking for the unexpected. I’m looking for things I’ve never seen before. I was in a position to take those pictures. I felt an obligation to do them.”

Still, the notoriety of Mapplethorpe’s 1989 show led to a re-examination of government support of the arts, and ticket buyers should be aware that some of Quirk’s comments may shock and/or be intensely distasteful.

Proving again that great theater is not dependent on fancy costumes and spiffy sets, Mapplethorpe: The Opening is staged as minimally as possible – against a black backdrop, the stage bare except for two chairs. If they asked, I would suggest they find a way to project some of Mapplethorpe’s photos onto that backdrop.

Quirk, like local favorite David McBean in his terrific one-man Fully Committed, is master of the lightning change; wearing only jeans and a T-shirt, Quirk makes you believe he is each of these gallery visitors.

Here’s an idea: How about a show with Quirk and McBean doing, say, 100 characters?

Ponder that dream team. Meanwhile, adventuresome theatergoers should not miss Mapplethorpe: The Opening.

Mapplethorpe: The Opening plays through Feb. 23 at 6th@Penn Theatre. Shows Mon., Tues., Wed. at 7:30 p.m.; Fri. and Sat. at 10:30 p.m., Sun. at 7:00 p.m. For tickets call (619) 688-9210 or visit www.gaylesbiantimes.com for a link to their website.

John Steinbeck’s subjects were the working classes and those sometimes called society’s dregs - drifters, drunks, prostitutes and petty criminals. Winner of the 1940 Pulitzer Prize for The Grapes of Wrath (about migrant farm workers), he called Salinas, Calif., home and used Northern California as backdrop for many of his novels.

The 1936 Of Mice and Men, his first big success, contained so much dialogue that Steinbeck easily rewrote it as a play, and it has remained a staple of the dramatic repertoire ever since. Renaissance Theatre Company offers a stunning production of this American classic at 6th@Penn Theatre, running through Feb. 20.

George (Joshua Everett Johnson) and his slow-witted friend Lennie (Daren Scott) are drifters, traveling together in search of farm work. George, small and wiry, is the brains; the hulking Lennie, with the strength of two and the brain of a child, the barely-controlled brawn.

Lennie is pure of heart, but his weakness is touching soft things. A mouse is good, a woman better – a proclivity which has already landed him in jail for accidentally hurting a woman. George acts as protector to his friend, though he knows his association with Lennie will likely get him in trouble as well.

Steinbeck brings these two drifters into the brotherhood of farm hands on the spread owned by Boss (Jack Winans) but run by his son Curley (Thomas Hall). Curley is an angry young man whose biggest problem is keeping his beautiful young wife (Jennifer Eve Kraus) in line. Curley’s wife likes attention and feels she doesn’t get enough at home, often showing up unbidden and unwanted in the bunkhouse; everybody but Lennie realizes she is capital-t Trouble.

Of Mice and Men is permeated with the solitary sadness of men alone and adrift. “Guys like us that work on ranches is the loneliest guys in the world,” says George. “They ain’t got no family. They don’t belong no place.”

Loners like this are also a suspicious lot, wondering about men traveling together. “Seems kinda funny, a cuckoo like him and a smart guy like you travelin’ together,” says Slim, later conjecturing “Maybe everybody in the world is just scared of each other.”

Some of these drifters are looking to scrape together a stake; others content to live hand-to-mouth, immediately blowing their pay in the local saloon or whorehouse.

George and Lennie share a dream – to buy a place of their own, a small farm with cows and chickens and nice fluffy rabbits for Lennie to tend. Telling aging bunkhouse mate Candy (Jack Banning) about their plans brings the dream a bit closer when Candy offers to go in with them and contribute much of the stake they need.

But, as poet Robert Burns put it, “the best-laid schemes o’ mice an’ men gang aft a-gley,” and George and Lennie will find their dream shattered by violence.

Director George Flint has assembled a fine cast for this great play, anchored by Johnson’s terrific George and Scott’s spectacular Lennie.

Candy’s heartbreak will be yours, too, when he weeps alone on his bunk after he finally agrees to have his faithful but ancient and smelly dog put down.

Treat yourself to some fine classic theater and see this Of Mice and Men.

Renaissance Theatre’s production of Of Mice and Men plays through Feb. 20 at 6th@Penn Theatre in Hillcrest. Shows Thurs.-Sat. at 8:00 p.m., Sun. at 2:00 p.m. For tickets call (619) 688-9210 or visit www.gaylesbiantimes.com for a link to their website.