600 Highwaymen’s “A Thousand Ways, Part 3: An Assembly” is one of 2022’s most remarkable works of theater.
I hope Putin understands “Fuck War” in not only Russian, but Estonian, Latvian and Lithuanian as well.
I feel tension between practice and permission. I relish in the freedom and the challenge to make what I can make with the time and resources that I already have at my disposal.
Live art is still here, and as Shelley understood two centuries ago, it will remain alive for as long as we do.
Along with the liveness of unmediated human presence, THE CONSOLE manages to be zeitgeisty, equal parts response to Covid isolation and election anxiety, in a way that isn’t instructive. It feels vital, earnest, and all the more critically alive for its irreverence.
Want to take out your phone and text? Please, I dare you, and I hope I’m there to see what happens. Maybe Young will want to take a selfie, or share your photos, or throw your phone out the window. Anything could happen.
They saw, “formalism with flair, and flights of fancy. Quirky, rhythmic, gestural phrases woven into broadly abstract works with exciting choreography. Cute moments that hint at a story.”
“I’ll just put my bias on the table.” What is the impact of the work? “Let’s turn over the rock and see what’s under there.” Terry says.
There is a general consensus that this moment can’t restore power to a people who aren’t in the room. But perhaps it can deflate the confidence of a narrative that props up those in power?
It shook me, as the kids say. And I see a lot. And experience a lot. And I felt shook.
What does it do to the modernist play, the living room drama, I wonder, when there is no living room, when there’s no home at all? Where does the play go?
Their movement allows them to take up all the space, filling the stage all the way to the frame.