During my experimental theater days, I performed only original works with two exceptions: Waiting for Godot, by Beckett, and Günter Grass’s, Only Ten Minutes to Buffalo.
I enjoyed both authors’ sharp wits and blunt assessments. There was art as a tragicomic fire doused with nonsense.
I felt they were saying, ‘Life can seem meaningless, and yet even then, we can scrape together enough delight from the absurdity of it all to carry on.’ Such is the human spirit!
Where will you turn for inspiration in the week ahead?
“Dance first. Think later. It’s the natural order.”
― Samuel Beckett