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October 24, 2004
In Remembrance
I first noticed Sarah Kane when one of my friends, who was doing theatre in Melbourne, made me read her script. I was captured by her powerful angst. Like skilful punches, each word hit me hard and made me sit up more to read her the better.
A true artist beautifies pain into a masterpiece. That was something I felt the director of the movie, Lilja-4-ever failed to do, but that's a post for another time.
However, like what I do with most auteurs of art, I never care what lies beneath those words. I never want a personal story to affect the work of art. I've always felt that such biased perception is an insult to creations of beauty from a human's mind.
Today, NYT has a fabulous article on Sarah Kane and one of her plays showing in NY. (SHWANG, you gotta go catch her, I KNOW YOU WILL LOVE HER. TRUST ME YOU WILL.) I never knew about her history of depression or her suicide until now. But I guess it makes so much sense, it's not even affecting. Instead, I only feel this quiet acceptance and acknowledgement.
What I like was the issue Jesse McKinley brought to attention. She asked if Sarah Kane's increasing popularity is due to the allure of her pain and death, or if it is truly based on the mastery of her works.
Sylvia Plath and a gazillion other artists, who have been heralded by their deaths and have their works overshadowed because of their lifestyles, come to mind. But the truth is, I was enchanted by Sarah Kane's words, even before knowing that the pain in them was real and that she killed herself.
That must mean for something.
Posted by lainey at October 24, 2004 05:35 PM