Our production, Autumn Spectre, goes up this Friday & Saturday, so we are running around a bit like chickens with our heads cut off. But it’s fun, right?
Autumn Spectre is set in a church - a dreamy, longing, eve in which a Mourning Man finds himself in a deserted sanctuary, surrounded by shades of his life, shadows, and his solitary thoughts. The music has stunned me with its outrageous beauty. I guess this is no surprise, given the masterful settings of seminal poets’ words by some of the 20th Century’s (most still living and creating) greatest composers.
The setting, both physically and dramatically, and the site-specificity of the performance, has thrown us a curve ball or two - nothing our adventurous band of merry-makers isn't used to - but this week has been a big lesson in the flexibility needed to make art happen. It’s an exciting time, watching the work come together, unfold, transform, and bud wings. This is the part of the process most creatively fulfilling, and perhaps most precarious. Autumn Spectre is a living being now, a bit out of our control, still needing tending and guidance, but an independent creature of the creative process with its own identity. We have a short time to get to know it, and then it passes from us forever. I hope you’re there to share with us the very magical, ephemeral quality of live performance.