My post final-dress rehearsal ritual starts with a glass of wine and my laptop. I sit down after weeks of rehearsing, miles of running around town for props and nights of limited sleep to engage in my other love - writing. For me, writing the director’s notes for the playbill is a satisfying cap to the entire process. I have watched my students grow and develop, witnessed the text come to life with the help of lights, sound and costumes and shared a thrilling emotional ride in my own mind and body. Although there is always a to-do list lingering for the next day — opening night, I am ready to say “good-bye” to the preparation and “hello” to the production. I usually share my thoughts on “why this play” and “why now.” The conclusion is often cathartic, a release of the tension I have carried, a burden I have endured to bring this art to you.
But tonight is different. This piece speaks for itself. And I hope you will hear it. Listen carefully. Give it the space it deserves.
“I know of one acid test in the theatre. It is literally an acid test. When the performance is over, what remains? Fun can be forgotten, but powerful emotion also disappears and good arguments lose their thread. When emotion and argument are harnessed to a wish from the audience to see more clearly into itself — then something in the mind burns. The event scorches on to the memory an outline, a taste, a trace, a smell — a picture. It is the play’s central image that remains, its silhouette, and if the elements are rightly blended, this silhouette will be its meaning, this shape will be the essence of what it has to say.” - Peter Brook, The Empty Space
If we have been successful in creating a silhouette, I hope you will talk about it. Don’t let it slip away. Give space in your hearts and your minds about the importance of authenticity and the acceptance of truth.
Welcome to our House on Maple Avenue!
Angela Ryan-Ledtke
Director
National Suicide Prevention Lifeline
https://suicidepreventionlifeline.org/
