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At some point during the past two years, my inner category-maker gave up.
Sure, there are no characters or plot, and some of it is in Latin (good luck!
), but theater-makers made it, and their hands still guide us down those familiar paths.
I am keeping the room vacant, Mother Teresa sings inSacred Faceabout a God she has lost faith in.
He wont come unless its spotless.
Christians music is bluesy, neo-roots, piano-heavy fusion that builds to gospel heights.
This soft, lobed object glows it looks like Isamu Noguchis version of an atom.
They are almost always facing that central lamp.
If it is a nucleus, they are the electrons in its orbit, moving from valence to valence.
Tonight, she says, the holy thing is Time.
Eleven hours wondering if something that youre doing is normal / nineteen hours twelve minutes deciding to quit.
(There is a pause.)
For Christian, time is also about connection, because contact pauses times stream.
As they move up and down the stairs, the singers sometimes catch our eyes.
(Heisenbergs uncertainty principle will not help you understand heartbreak.)
But Christian smashes through that old prejudice of mine.
Oratorio for Living Thingsis at the Greenwich House Theater through April 17.
