An Ode to Modi (the blog entry + poem)

Normally I would wait until after the play is over to write something up, but I feel as if I need to do it right now–at this exact moment–as my feelings are very present.

I don’t know if it’s because of the way we have three stages set up, or that it’s at the Gulfport Player’s home base, or that it’s a different kind of play (about art with nudity and language and just different), or that we almost break a 4th wall in there somewhere, but my gawd, I am so glad that I ended up working this backstage!!!

There is just something magical about Modigliani being performed at GP’s Backstage theatre. I just can’t express it enough.

I’ll be truthful here–I’m very much into art but I’ve never really been into artists, per se. I know what I like when I see it, but I couldn’t really name some artists if my life depended on it. But I can appreciate the hell out of a play about an artist that I didn’t really know much about, if anything. It’s almost like watching one of those old PBS TV shows a looooooong long super long time ago about composers when I was very much into music. And, I LOVED THOSE! So much! Which isn’t a surprise when I say I love a good play about an artist!

We artists (painters, writers, creative folk, etc) we go through lots of crazy things and crazy feelings and chaos and just everything in the world to become good, to become something, to get noticed, to live life the way we want to before life just takes over and all the craziness ensues. This is exactly this play, regardless if it really happened or not–this is how it usually ends up. And the person ends up going half batshit crazy right before something magical happens that they get noticed, or they’re noticed after they’re dead. Unfortunately. It is the life of the artist.

I took in watching from the audience’s point of view a few nights–before I had to be backstage–and the liveliness of the play (and the characters being put to life by our wonderful actors) is just pure magic. I just can’t say it enough. I love the three stages set up, and being so close to the audience. When I sat in the audience, I sat in the front row and I felt like I was a friend to the characters, or I was someone at the park just watching all of this happen.

Pure crazy, I say! I don’t want to say what happens in the play because I want to encourage EVERYONE to come out to the Backdoor Theatre in Gulfport and see this…

THURS, FRI, SAT @ 8PM AND SUNDAY AT 2PM. Tickets $18 online, $20 at the door.

SEE YOU THERE!

Oh, and a poem:

An Ode to Modi
by Karen Maeby © 2.1.17

chaos ensues
at the rupture of color—
thin lines, thick lines, painting, sculpting. 

a sick individual’s soul
dies within his own art,
as he never lets a bottle leave his hand.

an apron:
finding the need to be draped around
his neck, her neck, someones.

his friend:
withholding a chicken
to squeeze a little art out of his cheeks.

he’s no longer suited
to be the one who represents
and he sets himself up for—

truth be told
in the midnight hour of two a.m.
a song bursts out in flames.

emotions emerge from the dinner
where a proper gentleman sits,
interrupted by the king.

art is art is art!
but his—it takes an eternity—
to only be bought to be replaced.

she packs her bag
and leaves,
blowing his last candle out.

chaos ensues
leaving him to nothing
but himself, a masterpiece within.