I thought I had a revelation the other day. Then I realised it sounded familiar.
‘The world is a stage’
This was followed by annoyance: Shakespeare the cheeky bastard knew. He knew. Of course he knew! The Bard is alive and well, his words echo and linger on. His art, his legacy; his light shines on. Reaching our eyes so long after his mortal fire has burnt out.
As usual I may sound insane; so I’ll explain myself. Going to see live shows: music, theatre, circus, dance, any kind of performance art is one of the greatest joys I have. Probably only exceeded by being the performer in these things.
I believe that dizzying euphoria of the stage comes from being a part of this thing that’s greater than oneself. Art is the creation of a collective feeling: whether it’s joy, sadness or any other human emotion. In a crowd: a sea of individuals, our hearts beat in time. As one.
You can bring the whole world to you, all of humanity and the human condition can be packed down and set up once more upon a stage.
The world is brought to the stage.
The stage brings the world to us.