I hadn’t been in the eves of the place since 2011. A new director was running it so you couldn’t shoot during performances which meant there would be no piñata smashing for presentation. But Paul went and played some piano behind a curtain as Sarah evaporated off stage. And I thought to myself, downtown is not a place to forget. The Gehryisms, fraught with their manic distancing contortions, still oblige you. The roads built underneath of other roads manage to convince you no temblor can destroy it all. And then, back inside, the piñata rejoins your sense of equanimity. A whiffle ball bat, some piano tinkling, odd spangles dusting the outcropping of a geode, a crystal pulled from paper and imagination trumpet a good thing. In the background a circuit of christmas lights spell out the implication.
by Hank Cherry