Skin is two intertwining tales written and performed by Humphrey Bower. Humphrey introduces the play by telling us a story about his hairdresser going to Vietnam for a holiday and then begins to weave his own story about a sojourn to Western Australia.

When I walked into La Mama on this particular night, the usually intimate space felt sparse. A A melancholic piano, a lone chair centre stage and a series of paintings on the walls – many depicting arid landscapes – created the quintessential atmosphere for an open and languid account of alienation and longing.

Humphrey is a compelling storyteller and an engaging performer. He mentions in the play synopsis that juxtaposing these two tales was both “risky and irresistible”. How true. The risk is that the two tales have different rhythms and landscapes and yet they work so well together. Not just because they deal with both race and identity, but because the writer understands where to connect the tales so that the fluid quality of the storytelling is never lost. There are other interconnecting elements as well, such as the orange tan that Humphrey’s hairdresser receives in Vietnam connects well with imagery we have of the Australian outback.

Humphrey’s treatment of race is insightful and heartfelt without being politically correct; therefore, his work is never patronising. We laugh at his depiction of accents but we empathise and are moved by his characters.

The artwork and music for this works is provided by Jess Ipkendanz support the play by giving the two tales a landscape. Her paintings hanging on the wall portray arid landscapes, a woman dreaming and a hand. Immediately, one gets a sense of traversing the inner terrains of the human condition: despair, longing, peace, hope, even transformation. Jess’s melodies and vocals are beautiful and timely in mirroring the latter.Lighting is also intrinsic to the mood of this piece and Gwendolyna Holmberg-Gilchrist is impeccable in her timing and technical arrangements.