On our day off Monday, wonderful Wyn Wilson (playing the Big/Little Edie role) and I took a jaunt downtown to the Dali museum to fill the well and see the town. As usual for me in an art museum, I started scribbling away in my journal halfway through the exhibit...

In retrospect (a retrospective) -- how easy to put everything in order... create a through-line... as though life is actually linear, everything in perfect succession, lessons learned, packaged and tied up with strings before proceeding to The Next. But we in the middle, how can we see the forest for the trees? The artist may wrestle with those same demons, however many years later, just choosing this time a different color paint...

This morning the three of us Edies did a TV interview on Studio 10, and over the past week I've been all a-twitter with Opening! and family visiting! and flowers in the dressing room! Hearing that applause, catching the buzz, visiting and talking with patrons, oh my. Thank goodness for brush-up last night, to remind me there's a show to be done.

Promoting the thing, talking about the thing, reading (gasp) reviews! of the thing - it's all nothing, of course, without the thing itself. The telling of the story, the singing of the songs, the being the vessel for whatever comes through it.

Creating the actual thing.

Which is what, I suspect (and hope), most of us do it all for anyway. And while the perks are fun and the ego loves to be fed, just today I wonder what it would be like to create for creation's sake. If a tree falls in the forest and no one is there to hear it, does it make a sound? If you do something brilliant and don't post it on facebook, did it really happen?

Did Dali enjoy a more idyllic artistic existence, or just a more prolonged moment before the critics (and art teachers and Establishment folk) got to comment on his creative fruits? I suspect it's the latter.

On the other hand, if people weren't saying fabulous things about my performance, I would still be enjoying the heck out of giving it. I know this much to be true because I was enjoying the heck out of rehearsals and performances before people were saying fabulous things. But if art is holding (as 'twere) the mirror up to nature, there has to be somebody to look in it. None of us creates in a void, and the point of the theater is our shared experience. Anyway. Here I go with my cyclical arguments again.

Here's Wyn tying a wish to the Dali Wish Tree. I can't remember just what I wished for, but it was something about a life of wild abandon and self-expression.

Here's to another weekend of storytelling and creating the thing...