FINAL PERFORMANCES OF RAIN AFTER ASH

The final two performances of Rain After Ash at the Pacific Asia were packed last night. Positive buzz spread just as we had to dissolve our merry band. Ah well, that’s festivals for you.  Still, it’s been such a wonderful and rare experience to make this piece, I want to express my gratitude here.

We simply could not have done any of this without the enthusiasm, advocacy and support of Pasadena Arts Council, Pacific Asia Museum and so many generous artists, producers, supporters and volunteers, as well as the permission of Craig Arnold’s family . Top of our list of thanks is Charles Mason and his staff at the Pacific Asia, Terry Lemoncheck and Aaron Slavin, More thanks go to our wonderful production and venue team, to individual donors such as Katie and Chris Poole, Ann Graham Ehringer, David Rambo, Laurie Dowling, Fernando and Talin Sanchez-Nagolian; and our audiences including so many dear friends.

Finally, very special thanks must be offered to Demeter herself for last night’s ideal weather conditions. Despite the Santa Anas, the air temperature fell rapidly after sunset.  And though one could feel heat radiating up at the 7:30 performance, by 9 o’clock the atmosphere was perfect.

A celestial bonus was a bright, full moon tracking overhead, casting its pale light on all of us and the green tiles of the villa.

Peering down from my perch half-way up the courtyard stairs, I treasured hearing a collective gasp from the audience as Alpha (Persephone) opened the heavy blue doors and beckoned them in Japanese. The sight of the garden lit up by Jason’s hot pink Tokyo graphic and the sound of Bruno’s ethereal techno score mixed with the rush of flowing water clearly captivated everyone.  I watched Alpha as she skittered across the pond with its gigantic koi swimming under plate-sized lily pads, then passed two massive scholar stones and finally brought the group to rest under glowing ginkos and crepe myrtles.  As our audiences grew, we encouraged them  to “dance” with the performers who circulate around them throughout the piece. Last night, seeing the crowd learn to shift and move as the actors did was especially satisfying.

I hope  to make more projects that can involve audiences in this way.  Surf Orpheus on the beach comes first to mind.

After everyone moved into the galleries, the courtyard fell silent; and I became very aware of how soon Rain After Ash would be over.  It had been two years in the making and in less than two hours it would be gone for good.  This “present-tenseness” was only made more poignant by the chirring of last summer’s crickets.

With so little time left, I took an insider’s privilege and visited Grace Nicholson’s living room, now the conference room of the museum.  The long wood table and its eight high-backed chairs were back-lit by mercury vapor street lights.  Next to the window was a wide couch covered in fuschia silk with a fierce bronze dragon hovering nearby.  I sat in the shadows and thought about Grace’s legacy; and how I had benefited from her vision.

I wondered about my own. And Craig’s. Had I done well by his vision of himself? I tried to quiet my thoughts but cars and concerns kept whizzing by. ”Let go,” I intoned.  ”Let go of expectations, attachments and most of all desire.”  For a brief moment I could almost see Eternity. But I sighed with the next thought.

Human beings can’t help their desiring. Craig taught me that. It’s what makes us human. It’s how we know we’re still alive.

And to stay alive, we have to keep moving and leave things behind.