Mission Statement
Raised from three generations of academics who studied living cultures and civilizations long dead I often wondered growing up about the use of theory and how to reconcile it with suffering and injustice. I set off at the age of 13 to see what I could find: to see what I could see. My explorations stretch from cross-cultural stories of far-flung continents to a couple consumed by grief. From a female friendship turned obsessive to four lovers and a cellist striving for freedom. In tight fit classrooms and black box theatres, in sweeping historic mansions and bleak industrial warehouses I still look for an answer: how can we love each other and ourselves better, and how do we fail to love well enough? Can we sit or walk through a darkened room and put our egos aside to be present, fully present, for someone else’s story?
South African playwright Athol Fugard describes Pascal and Camus’ view of the human condition as a prison where we each sit chained together. Every morning the door opens and one person is taken out and executed. Fugard asks:
“What do we do during those 24 hours between the opening and closing of the door? Do we cry? Or do we tap the next person in the chain and say ‘What’s your name? I’m Athol Fuguard. Who are you?’ And that’s how we create meaning. At the end of my process you are waiting.”
I’m tapping on your shoulder. I’m ready for you to speak.
Raised from three generations of academics who studied living cultures and civilizations long dead I often wondered growing up about the use of theory and how to reconcile it with suffering and injustice. I set off at the age of 13 to see what I could find: to see what I could see. My explorations stretch from cross-cultural stories of far-flung continents to a couple consumed by grief. From a female friendship turned obsessive to four lovers and a cellist striving for freedom. In tight fit classrooms and black box theatres, in sweeping historic mansions and bleak industrial warehouses I still look for an answer: how can we love each other and ourselves better, and how do we fail to love well enough? Can we sit or walk through a darkened room and put our egos aside to be present, fully present, for someone else’s story?
South African playwright Athol Fugard describes Pascal and Camus’ view of the human condition as a prison where we each sit chained together. Every morning the door opens and one person is taken out and executed. Fugard asks:
“What do we do during those 24 hours between the opening and closing of the door? Do we cry? Or do we tap the next person in the chain and say ‘What’s your name? I’m Athol Fuguard. Who are you?’ And that’s how we create meaning. At the end of my process you are waiting.”
I’m tapping on your shoulder. I’m ready for you to speak.
