Words without art...

...that is me; never as artful as I imagine to be.


The be-all and the end-all [is] here
here, upon this bank and shoal of time,
we'ld jump the life to come; Lord [knows]
what fools [we] mortals be, [yet in] this,
above all else: to thine own self [we] be true.


- W. Shakespeare


Speaking of Bill, I recently made a return visit to University of Chicago's Court Theatre for their only Tudor production this season, Radio Macbeth. Their production of Titus Andronicus was one of the most mind-blowing (-fucking) productions I have yet to see, and this production did rally to the tier. There are no psychological trappings akin to Titus, but the sheer actorial skill was incredible. So much of the Chicago theatre scene attempts at being raw and new, and sometimes it seems to have little room for perfected interpretation. While the crew from Macbeth is imported, they most definitely address a standard in its barest elements. More on this later. Now to the studies I just want to be over.