We enter and get settled. In the womblike darkness, we see ORIXA sitting onstage, absorbed in thought. Clothed completely in white with her face covered by an expressionless white mask, she seems ethereal and spooky, ghostlike. Maybe it's because she sits too still for too long, or the way she almost seems invisible because she does not react to us at all.That's it for now. I know: cliffhangers are cheap, but this is honestly where I stopped.
Once we are in place, Orixa looks at us and sees us - really sees us. Her gaze is intent, laserlike, not so much just seeing as dissecting. And for a moment we all have a foot in 2 different worlds: our everyday world and the world of the play.
The everyday world fades away.
We are now trees and/or spirits in a spooky forest on a foggy, moonlit night. There is a sense of presence in this place, as if something unseen sees us. Shadowy SHAPES - trees perhaps, or maybe ghosts - move subtly in the background.
A CATERPILLAR slowly and deliberately enters the forest carrying a spinning wheel. It finds a spot with plenty of moonlight then carefully arranges itself and the wheel.
Orixa watches, transfixed.
The caterpillar spins and spins, weaving yards and yards of enchanted "fabric" (more like a silken shawl) of a mystically significant color. Unrushed and methodical, there is a meditative quality to the way the caterpillar goes about its work.
Orixa marvels, drawing closer - but not too close.
As the caterpillar completes the task, it slowly and carefully wraps itself in the cloth. It forms a coccoon around itself, covering its feet, body, and head. It goes perfectly still.
Orixa carefully examines the coccoon. She tries to peek inside, listens at it, taps it.
The coccoon stirs (Orixa retreats), slightly at first but sooni t stretches the fabric until it starts to split.
Orixa waits for the thing inside.
The coccoon unravels. A FAIRY emerges. A creature of dark glamor that resembles a blood red rose in all its contradictory beauty - soft petal and sharp thorn, red blossom and green stem. She may even have wings like a lunar moth, making her look like a kind of feral angel of forest and roses and moonlight.
A blog by a playwright who wrote a play about a famous actress coming out of a TV, with a few thoughts on diversity, social justice, and indie theatre.
September 27, 2008
Etudes 2&3 - practical example
Continuing from where we left off (with some additions) . . .
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