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Lengua materna / Mother tongue
I do not imagine a theater, because I live theater, breathe it in and out; I dream it. But, if I had to imagine a theater, then I'd like to imagine that the languages that have been forgotten, which are still spoken in many parts of the world, would be part of this new playwriting.
Toward a New Curation
Fellow national curators (myself included) would recognize when our own limitations of history/age/privilege were a barrier and step aside to let others more aligned with an artist or project take over. In this landscape, talented younger artists and curators would receive effective, thoughtful mentorship and training, while those more seasoned would acknowledge and draw inspiration from the energy and ideas of next-generation curators.
How can we rehearse for a future we don’t have an image of?
What if we define values, principles, and methodologies, resisting the pressure to define outcomes? What if we focus on what drives us and on how we want to live and work together, but leave the imagination open to the concrete shapes our collaboration can take?
the theatre that I do not wish to imagine but wish to have
The theatre that must exist is ugly and unsatisfying, much of the time. It is defined by failed efforts and a bizarre-bordering-on-pathological determination to return to the scene of the crime (in this scenario, artists are the criminals; art is the bullet; guess who the victims are?).
feast
It is raw, it is real, it is happening with you in the room and can only be experienced in the “here and now.” It is open to a multiplicity of heres and nows depending on the realities, perceptions, localities... of those present.
Pneuma: Queer Telling
Dangling in mid-air like a thrust-out tongue, an oval-shaped rocky surface extends from the mouth of a cave to form a rough-hewn apron stage in the middle of a mountain.
Pneuma: Queer Telling : Gloss 1
They will surely become aware of the powers inherent in other generations, that the children and the elderly possess the wisdom of resurrection in our time.
Choice & Consequence : Gloss
Welcome to my gloss.
Oroonoko, Called You, An Essay in Three Acts : Gloss
Who goes with Caesar? A Drama in One Act SETTING The hold. A thick and layered darkness. A heavy odor […]