Criteria for Great Theatre
Is it challenging?
-to my views
-to my categories of race, class, sex, gender
- does it reverse an -ism or -ology? Psychology, philosophy, nationalism, humanitarianism,
Is it inspiring/transformational?
- aesthetically transformational in its live performance
- spiritually and emotionally transgressive
Is it dangerous?
- dark primordial place
-terrifying and tapping into subconscious
Is it vital and timeless?
-both in the now and beyond it
-does it bridge the gap between immediate relevance and cross-generational
When I sit down to write something I'm reviewing these thoughts in my head. Time is short. Writing is arduous and lonely skill to funnel the immense abundance of creative power into the digest-able syllables. Where is the passion that keeps this going? Am I -as Wayne Dyer would say- being a host to angels or a hostage to ego? Do I dare to step out once again without knowing where this will go and how it will end? Trusting in invisible intuitions, instincts, guides. Piecing together clues, fossils, and scraps. Do I dare to hand my logical self over once again? Surrendering into the directionless dark pitch, spreading my arms and hoping that a gust will catch me.
I am removed from the answers and only have more questions.
-to my views
-to my categories of race, class, sex, gender
- does it reverse an -ism or -ology? Psychology, philosophy, nationalism, humanitarianism,
Is it inspiring/transformational?
- aesthetically transformational in its live performance
- spiritually and emotionally transgressive
Is it dangerous?
- dark primordial place
-terrifying and tapping into subconscious
Is it vital and timeless?
-both in the now and beyond it
-does it bridge the gap between immediate relevance and cross-generational
When I sit down to write something I'm reviewing these thoughts in my head. Time is short. Writing is arduous and lonely skill to funnel the immense abundance of creative power into the digest-able syllables. Where is the passion that keeps this going? Am I -as Wayne Dyer would say- being a host to angels or a hostage to ego? Do I dare to step out once again without knowing where this will go and how it will end? Trusting in invisible intuitions, instincts, guides. Piecing together clues, fossils, and scraps. Do I dare to hand my logical self over once again? Surrendering into the directionless dark pitch, spreading my arms and hoping that a gust will catch me.
I am removed from the answers and only have more questions.
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