The strike for The Beauty Queen of Leenane was almost over. We were waiting on the sweepers before repainting the bare stage floor black. Watching those push-brooms make the last pass I reflected: theater IS like sand-painting.
You put all this work, all this care into a production... and then it's over. It's swept away. It's gone.
It took me a couple years to reconcile myself to this fact. But I'm mostly okay with transience now. I do think it may be a little braver than usual that theater people can be so open about and at peace with the idea that you throw your work out there and then it disappears like a soap bubble. Because the human urge to create a monument is strong. But, in the long run, nothing much really lasts does it? Even the pyramids aren't what they once were. Even they, from a planetary viewpoint, are temporary phenomenon. From a galactic view, so is the Earth.
Everything is a soap bubble.
Soap bubble - public domain image
Today? My first meeting on a new show, The God of Carnage for Circle Theatre.
Where's my bubble wand?
Early posts on the Beauty Queen strike HERE or on this idea of transience HERE.