I was part of the writing team behind
I am Saying This Right Now,
The Plagiarists' latest play. I also took some photos to serve as evidence to the process and the play. The show is currently running up at a beautiful space called
Berger Park, a Chicago Park District center that sits right near Lake Michigan and offers a cozy home to the journey. The show deals with memories, evidence of those memories, methods of remembering and uses vignettes to show a series of stories. My dear pal
Kaitlin put together the work of a writing crew who brought a wealth of stories that were rich in content and in style--how she accomplished such a task is a wonder. But she did. And it's gorgeous.
Other pals and artists, Kim and Paul, have directed this show which dances from room to room with an intimacy that brings waves of feelings of well-being and cozy familiarity.
As a photographer and as an artist, the concept of editing and preservation is always a struggle. Clearly I struggle with it since I crafted a series called
The Mundanes on this very blog, where even the most ordinary of images would have a home. It is difficult to tell what is worth preserving in a time where preservation comes so easily. The digital age has made all mediums of visual and audio communication so easily created and kept. What will remain once we are no longer here to talk about things and here to show people our experiences? Generations of the past are seemingly even more intriguing since evidence like old photographs do not pop up on a computer screen over a series of web pages but rather on grainy, textured photographs of various sizes, rare treasures held in hands only once in a while.
I took some archival photos of the play, as evidence to its existence and, well, just cause I like to!
Yesterday, I happened to be looking through this week's Time Out Chicago and found that a couple of my photographs had been used. I went into the magazine looking for the latest restaurants and fun things in this giant city and huzzah! my work!
One photo in the table of contents and one in the
review of the show. The table of contents simply says
"The Plagiarists perform their latest."
And I think, "huh, I helped make that."
And then I think, "huh, how funny to have people know the company by name in this giant city where all of us were once transplants."
And then I see the show is a "critic's pick" and the disbelief hits a new level.
What an amazing gift it is to have been a part of making something from nothing, and with people you love. How incredible to have evidence to that process and of that product. How incredible to have a tool (my camera) that helps document even the most fleeting of events--the production of a play.
How splendid.
