Notes from the Director
We’ve come a long way from traveling town to town with a cart full of wigs and props, setting up on street corners with a handful of players to tell our stories—in hopes of a cupful of coin and, if the performance were exceptional, an invite to a pub or Inn. At the least, a few interested passers-by, an audience of a few or two or one.
Even for one, we would play.
So during this season of COVID, when we were informed our audience would likely be ourselves, and then only with masks, and respectable distances, and rules and regulations as to where and how we might present our craft—it crossed our minds that perhaps we should wait it out. Wait until it could be done “right.”
One of my mentors, Jack Lynn, performed onstage while London was bombed. Indeed, his wife and son lost their lives as he lived out the famous adage “The show must go on” without contrivance or cliché. It was not the “right” time. But it was the necessary time. As the City huddled in uncertainty under the sway of impending doom, the Arts were what people used to cope. To release. To remain unified in their experience of emotions other than fear, anger and uncertainty.
So this…this was less a restriction than a challenge.
Ok, there were a few restrictions. Like, losing the lights, microphones and sound system. Having very limited and protected contact in a show largely known for such things being, um, out of control. And the pre-recording of songs in monitored shifts for playback out-of-doors where trains, Harley Davidsons and monster trucks threatened to devour Artists’ audio contributions. Oh, and acting, singing and dancing while wearing surgical masks...the usual. Stuff.
It’s truly amazing how a shift in medium can solve so many variables. I can only say, thank God for film. Truly the Arts, if nothing, are a resilient medium. Because we are.
The beauty of this project was this return to uncertainty, a newness—and the willingness and commitment of the participants to revisit a time when the performances might only be for ourselves, using techniques never tested for some.
The only sure thing for all: we all wanted it to happen, no matter what.
There’s one thing that has remained the same since the early days: Art, for the sake of Art, will always suffice. It will always prevail over apathy and fear. Art will always rise, and it will always overcome. It isn’t something elusive to capture, something you must catch and control, or something anyone can take away. Every performer fully invested knowing the reward may only be the chance to perform. Not for accolades or approval—for themselves.
As the song goes:
It never was there.
It always was here.
