Wayne Harris delivered a funny, sensitive show about his mother's death called Mother's Milk, with keenly acted portraits of the aging Mrs. Harris and a hellfire Pentecostal uncle. The gallery wasn't sure what to make of the young Harris character's obsession with joining a drum and bugle corps, early in the piece, but it went wild over his story of becoming the youngest person ever to be baptized at Pleasant Green Missionary Baptist Church. Venus Opal Reese's piece about hair, though, brought down the house. Split Ends was a kind of Vagina Monologues about loving your own kinky black hair. ("What would your hair say, in two words? 'Help me.' 'Release me.' 'Thank you.'") Reese mixed video, song, audience participation, and graceful dance to build a varied and elegant bit about self-acceptance. It was somewhat one-sided and preachy, but as a screed against pressing, perming, cornrowing, and straightening it had the whole audience (not just the peanut gallery) helpless with laughter.