theater muss sein. raps and operas. beats and violins. a dead girl and seven devils to blame. gypsies and whores, lunatics contortionists and fire-throwers roam the place, then disappear into the forest.
trees full of leaves. ground muddy from rain. rain and sun alternating, scattered poppies. nature must exist. but theater?
the music studio has been frozen in a layer of ice. the break-up story is sordid. the divorce proceedings have once again been rescheduled. there is anger to swallow, test results to celebrate, a wedding next week. everyone is leaving for good or on vacation with the one and only, the new, the other, or the just for the summer. to an island. to the south of the country. to a cabin in the woods.
quick! it is all about to coalesce before your eyes! the curtains will open to reveal the woods, and behind the wings you'll find your very own kitchen! the light change will be quick enough for you to glimpse your lover's smile contort into a grimace! all of it's here for the taking: this beach, this field, this room made of fabric, the steps of this museum where you sit drinking a glass of wine listening to the he-said she-said and wondering if a breakup or a death is more difficult to bear, as if there were a ranking of the tragedies, or the comedies for that matter.
what appears to be an elaborate construction can come apart at the seams and be reassembled at will, just ask the technicians. they have all the tools you'll need to build a stage: screwdrivers, hammers. planks of wood, electricity and swaths of fabric. a stage is just a frame. the drama's already there.