utmost for the highest

finished two plays this weekend, reading that is...Conversations With My Father by Herb Gardner, where I was once again reunited with the myth of FDR, who was placed in this play to represent the blindfold America had on during the Holocaust. Jews in New York during this time was the undercurrent of a play about fathers and sons living in their own time trying to make their own way; and the dysfunction that occurs as a result. Brilliant!

the second play was Virginia Woolf's only play, Freshwater, a farce on the life of her aunt Julia Margaret Cameron, photographer and good friend of Alfred Lord Tennyson, poet, and George Frederic Watts, a painter. I am not so familiar with these people, but I will be, and the play read no less because of my ignorance. I will have to do some research before producing it sometime in the future. Figure that I could do this play, Picasso's Desire Caught by the Tail and maybe Elie Wiesel's The Trial of God as a season of artists who are not playwrights, but wrote a few masterful plays. I will hold off on deciding exactly which until the funding comes through and I've read some more, though the gallery tells me to read less...fuck the regulations!