This play, is a collective multi media project. It is titled Wings are Nearly Free. Suzanne Vega wrote a song Ironbound/Fancy Poultry. The title of my play was inspired by her words, "Wings are Nearly Free", from that song.
Posted below are excerpts from the play. The four characters are Death, The Painter, The Muse and The Clear Eyed Goddess Athena.This work in progress is a collective multimedia project.
Death Rest's in Love 28" x 22" ink on paper from the Dead Drawing Series 1998
Deaths Monologue , to the protaganist, after his suicide. This scene invloves Death, and the Painter, who have found themsekves on the river Hades.
Death "My life has always been theatre. A performance, a sketch...OR SO I HAD THOUGHT"!
(death smokes a cigarette, and begins to speak, almost Burroughs - like, but calmer, humble). "I don't think you can see anything that you could see before, I have this feeling you know,but do not you are not where you are anymore too, my sweet.
(Wine is distibuted to audience in small glasses. Death pours from an urn into two goblets, he sips from one then passes the other to the Painter. Technically the temp. drops app. 5degrees, fans blow toawrds the audience, an incencense burns ...Ariel has a great burner)
DeathTo the Audience and the Protaganist ..."You like it here , you think it is fine and that is what this place was created to be, just so fine... Now that you all have been given drink, join me , taste this wine...it is time. , let it rest on your toungue, inhale softly, feel it burn down your throat and inside of you. Feel this cool breeze, listen to this stream, Look deep into mine eyes, and feel my embrace around, and inside you
Death toasts the audience, and again beginds to speak "What the painter does not know as the likes of you do not either, he will realize that this nectar, this honey made of fruit and berry and wine is my body. My blood, my bones crushed to pulp. Everybody at one time consumes my body, my blood, my self. It fills this river Hades below, it pours down from the heavens when the world turns awry. It burns the field and forest and it is the tears of a newborne child. The tears of mother or her mournig kin. Smell it, taste it touch it too, hear it in the minstrels cry. See it through my burning eyes. I am joyed as you come to this land, underneath the sea ... We all have a time....time ....time..... it is the gift we share eternally....for it is eternity. oh but often such a burden, to see it go wasted by you and you and even you and damnit maybe even him!!!! (death points to the Painter) This quiet sacred river HAdes is from whence you have been blessed with your mortality. I...... AM...
Death turns to the Painter "I am equal to or greater than any god you have ever loved or ever feared. Darker than the cloaked ones, who raised you. who cradelled you. I was there when you had just been concieved, and In that moment , with a kiss I burned your name on your mothers tongue.
I guided your first fumbleing steps, and I walked you safely to school in those elementary years. I walked you past those awkward demons. I tied you off.
I rejoiced when you conceived your first child, and then another. With relish I whispered in your ears their names too....as it first crossed your lips.
I am that heat , that sweat, that cold you shiver from on a road in the midnights glare. I have walked in the early hours of the day, and inn the late hours too, waiting.....waiting for you to call. Sometimes you beckon so frozen and blacked from the death, and sometimes youjr heat is unbearable and the light you breath burns mine eyes and what skin I carry.
oh you, my lover, my mistress, my desparate whore. oh I crave you with my entire being, sometimes when I reach out to touch you my bones begin to crumble and I resign. And worse than that when I hear your beckon call to me...in a moment of self doubt or as a reflective, bloody tear forms in your eye. Oh yes I have so often heard your cries. Your weeping, I could not come.
" Athena....The Clear Eyed Goddess. Both your angel and mine. She gave us both this pleaseure, this moment. From here and forevermorw we begin, to look, to see, to ponder...to find.... She has answered both your prayers and mine. For as time deceives even I...I have been here for you always. I wish now for you to be with me. Now I can come out of your skin, and we may see your truest visions. Oh Painter can you clearly see your pictures you can read your poems and stories now . You finally get to see what you have given this world.(judgement????)
(Death turns to the audience)
"We can read your poems, and songs, and study those paintings. We can research those documents you have prepared...review what you have taken and what you have been given. We can wiegh out what you have spoken what you have been told. And we can do all of this now.... undisturbed and finally... by you...
And it is I...I am the sonnets rhyme, I am the pigment in thase paintings, I am black and I am white, I am the law, I am the government, I am wealth and I am poverty. I am love and I am hatered.
Joy and sorrow.
Painter to Death, boldly "So in this...what is it. What are the things that keeps us alive each day. Today it maybe different than what it was yesterday, or tomorrow and all of its tomorrows after that. ( the Painters tone rises and lowers deep. under the n ails of the theatre stage itself). Today it will be different, different than it was before, and different than before then too. And those ways WILL keep on, they kept me going , perhaps today new ways need to be discovered. It is the dark heart that pulls me down. But it has been darkness too, that has kept me up . All the while we pray each day that it doesn't pull us too far... either way...
New ways must be discovered.
Painter turns and glances at Death, nods and sips the wine
Painter Responds to Death. from Wings are Nearly Free , Copyright David Cation Athena and The Muse listen in .( A dialogue between Death and The Painter develops soon after in which they wiegh the pro's and cons of The Painters death. The Painter responds to Death's monlogue. "What is it, what are the things that keep us alive today? Today it may be different, different than the way it was before. BEHOLD OUR BLESSED BEFORE!!!!!" He sneers back to the audience Hvolr exmoàpe sneers at Death Is it really a darkened heart that pulls us down and we beg it stop. Each moment so many sceam that it will stop before this earth crumble under our very feet were would find our selves here.....And that....dear doctor.....is beauty????. The Painter begins to rage You have given so much ifinite clarity n'are have I ever allowed grey , those ways kept me going....perhaps today, new ways will be found, perhaps we can find it in those colours you mock oh you devil you. , and now black and white have been taken too. I should damn you into the hell below us, always always waiting. David Cation
Skull with Reefer and Fit 40" x 30" oil on canvas
You are retarted in every step.Perhaps you could find answers in the papers I left for you.....oh loving desparate you . You simply a consultant.
(Death sitting , reclined, sips from his cup, flames arise suddenly consuming the Painter . Death sets his goblet down the flames retreat. "You were saying???" Death stares blindly at some distant speck.
"Oh Death, oh dark love, oh my Deareast One. My need for you has been deep with in me since before I came into this world. Of course you branded my mothers toungue. But now, especially now, in this unearthly state and Judgement you are still with me. I see how you will always be with and I with too. I can rest, in each moment in every day, in every single moment. Now... I can rest.
The Painter turns to the audience "Oh goddess, oh muse, oh ancient cloaked ones among you. Is this the rebirth??? is it this or is it that. is everything red or is it blue????? "
to Death "No matter. Do not get me wrong old man, ah, but of course you won't. I do not ponder an option in anything. I ponder only truth from non truths. Your tears have poured onto every pallette in which I scape. You wept in each pen, these exact words ....you know it is true, and yes so have I , you have taught me nothing, and nothing do I expect to learn from you.
... Perhaps... my gift to you will far outway any thing whoich has ever crossed this river. I will leave you in this place, the kind of Hell. You have no option, as I have none either. I will go back and in your blood speak your truths as horrid or gleefull as they might be, and I will continue with my documents for them to find. To remind them....that they have no chance...that, is my gift to you.
copyright 2006 David Cation