September 7, 2013 · Speculation
There’s something that happens when people form a circle. Something primal. Something we’ve been doing since we figured out fire wasn’t just for warmth but for gathering around. The circle says: we’re in this together. No hierarchy. No front or back. Just us, acknowledging the shared madness of being human. And rituals? Rituals are the […]
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September 2, 2013 · Collusion
O, never Shall sun that morrow see! Your face, my thane, is as a book where men May read strange matters. To beguile the time, Look like the time; bear welcome in your eye, Your hand, your tongue: look like the innocent flower, But be the serpent under’t. He that’s coming Must be provided for: […]
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August 30, 2013 · FalseArt
To Won’s Father June 1, 1586 You always said, “Dear, let’s live together until our hair turns gray and die on the same day.” How could you pass away without me? Who should I and our little boy listen to and how should we live? How could you go ahead of me? How did you […]
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August 23, 2013 · Industries
I stand there in the damp brick corridors of Fort Point with a camera and Shakespeare’s murder ballad echoing off Civil War-era walls, and I start to understand something about why I do this stupid, beautiful thing called documentation. Not because theater needs more goddamn photos. But because Ava and her company decided to stage […]
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August 18, 2013 · The City
There is a land of the living and a land of the dead and the bridge is love, the only survival, the only meaning. Thornton Wilder Look at this thing. Just look at it. Fort Point. 1861. Built to protect San Francisco Bay from Confederate ironclads that never came. Brick and mortar, cannon emplacements, the […]
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August 13, 2013 · Industries
Margaret Tedesco Cameo. Nights, and Night Margaret Tedesco sits in a semi-dark room and watches entire feature-length films with the sound off and the projection blocked by her own body, then just tells you what she’s seeing, not the plot, not the names, just “she walks across the room, he touches the wall, they stand in blue light, […]
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August 10, 2013 · Industries
Marcia Farquhar once performed a thirty-hour monologue, thirty goddamn hours of talking, which is longer than most people can stay awake, longer than most marriages last, longer than anyone should have to listen to anyone else under any circumstances. She called it The Omnibus because apparently she wanted to get everything in there, the whole messy sprawl of whatever […]
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