An autumn bed of leaves under our maple tree reminds me of a performance of Midsummer Night’s Dream that I saw in Stratford, England, when I was 19. It was the later 1980s. Life was my oyster.
Before the woodland scenes the stage crew rolled out a carpet of jumbled textile pieces, layered and sewn to resemble the forest floor. Puck, Oberon or Titania flitted about in the nets and branches that were suspended above. The stage lights cast dappled shadows onto the rumpled cloth collage and you could almost smell damp leaf mould. I thought at the time that I’d love to carpet a room with something like that someday.
Now it is that someday, and I sew lots of out-of-box things. No reason why I shouldn’t try t0 sew a textile carpet of raw-edged fragments.
Last night I saw the stage play Born Yesterday, produced by Northern Stage, and here I am looking at fallen leaves that remind me of a play from twenty years ago. When three friends invited me to join them last night I jumped at the chance, and this morning I’m basking in the starry afterglow of being to ‘the theee-uh-tuh.’
My parents were avid theatre-goers during my childhood, but I haven’t made it a habit. I completely forgot the thrill of sitting so near, seeing and feeling the energy come from the actors, and reacting with gasps or laughter in a collective way with the audience all around.
So many kinds of artistic expression are right here to grasp. I plan to book a seat for next month’s production and get back in the theatre habit.