Some performances stay behind the footlights, but others come right out at you as if you were in an IMAX theater.

Such is the case with Mercedes Ruehl’s her affecting performance as the flamboyant sculptor, the late Louise Nevelson, in the thoroughly engaging production of Edward Albee’s "The Occupant" at Signature Theater Company.

Albee is known for his controversial and complex works, but this current drama fits neither of those two categories; it is a loving tribute to a woman he personally knew for quite a few years.

The two-character play also stars Larry Bryggman, here named The Man, who is a reporter interviewing Nevelson after her death.

Where they are conducting the interview is up to discussion. Did Nevelson come down to earth briefly for this interview, or is The Man up in heaven? It doesn’t matter, for what is important is the way Albee probes into the fundamental question of what drives the creative process – love of the art or the need for personal recognition.. For Nevelson, it was never fame but the "recognition of what you have done."

What is clever is the way The Man is depicted throughout the show. At first carrying a book with anecdotes and pictures from the artist’s life, he is reminiscent of the late Ralph Edwards from the old television show, "This Is Your Life."

With his plastered fixed smile, he displays a kind of fawning attitude toward Nevelson. But as the play progresses his questions become more pointed, almost glib. From genial reporter to almost-inquisitor, Bryggman does a fine job. And it is not an easy feat to keep up with the virtuosic Ruehl.

We learn that Nevelson was born Leah Berliawsky in the later 1800s to an impoverished Russian-Jewish family who moved to Maine. Her father was a hard worker who became prosperous in the real estate business. Her mother had some emotional problems which afflicted Louise later in her life.

She was quite a talented young girl, playing the piano and pursuing art. There is not much spoken about her numerous siblings.

She moved to New York and met her boss’s brother, whom she married.

Charles Nevelson seemed to have loved her; but Louise was an independent woman wanting to achieve her craft. She felt that being married was like being owned, and she wanted to make her own decisions. Such a feminist viewpoint was not taken well in the early 1900s.

She forthrightly admits to not being a good mother. She loved her son Mike, but her devotion was to achieving something brand new in art. Along the way she had bouts of depression that led to several suicide attempts.

Her huge breakthrough came as she was walking down the street and saw various pieces of wood thrown out. She took them to her studio and created her now famous abstract expressionistic sculptures.

The set by Christine Jones is sparse, made up of black wooden sculptures in Nevelson style, until, near the end of the show, Nevelson throws back a curtain and in glorious lighting (design by David Lander) you see wall-to-wall wooden displays of the artist’s creations.

When Louise starts to do a revelatory dance you know she has achieved what her goal was her entire life. Was it worth the sacrifices she made? You believe she felt it was.

Ruehl does a remarkable job of capturing the various moods of this tempestuous and intrepid woman. She shows her in a joie de vivre mode one moment and then, when the reporter brings up some serious issues, somber, with her head drooping.

She does a great job of physically depicting Nevelson, wearing ostentatious multi-colored flowing kaftans and a scarf she uses as a headdress (costumes by the always-dependable Jane Greenwood) along with elongated sable false eyelashes, which was Nevelson’s signature look.

Despite the mistakes this woman may have made in her personal life, Albee concentrates on the courage and resilience she displayed in achieving her lifelong goals.

Watching this show, I began thinking of the current brilliant revival "Sunday in the Park With George," which also depicted the travails of the aspiring artist. As directed with keen assurance by Pam MacKinnon, it indeed was not fame that was the overall motive of these amazingly gifted individuals — but the ultimate surrender to their life’s achievement. Not always an easy decision, but one that appeared to be beyond their control.