A Little Play by William Doan About Lines and How I’m Eager to Stand In Line Again.
William Doan
I remember standing in line at the box office, or at will-call, pre-Covid; and thinking about being lined up just inches away from the person in front of me. How their cologne (or some other odor) made a beeline for my nostrils. Knowing that I would soon be in line on a New York City sidewalk waiting to go inside the theatre. Anticipating the lines made by rows of seats broken up by aisles, aimed at the stage. Having carefully chosen a seat that would maximize the sightlines, anticipating what will soon become a glorious series of moving shapes and lines in a choreographed dance of light, shape, color, texture, volume, accompanied by the rhythms of human speech. My elbows rest on the arms of my seat, creating a linear barrier between myself and the two people on either side of me who are a bit closer than I’d like – probably a bit closer than they would like as well. Ten minutes to curtain. Suddenly I’m reminded of something Klimt said about lines – art is a line around your thoughts. Or Gaudi…
Dramatis Personae: Me, Gustav Klimt, Antoni Gaudi, Jean-Michel Basquiat, Rene Crevel
ANTONI GAUDI. I can speak for myself. I’m here after all. There are no straight lines or sharp corners in nature. Therefore, buildings must have no straight lines or sharp corners.
ME. And yet I’m sitting here in this dusty old Broadway theatre where straight lines and corners are full of promise. They make shadowy spaces where ghosts of previous shows wait patiently for a revival.
JEAN-MICHAEL BASQUIAT. Every single line means something.
ME. That’s right Jean-Michel. But not equally, right? I mean, if they all mean equally then they mean nothing, tautologically speaking.
RENE CREVEL. (under his breath) Indeed. (then—) Straight lines go too quickly to appreciate the pleasures of the journey. They rush straight to their target and then die in the very moment of their triumph without having thought, loved, suffered or enjoyed themselves.
ME. And yet we tend to privilege the notion that straight line is the shortest distance between two points. As if that really matters in practicality, right? I mean you can only follow a straight line briefly before it runs you into a building. Or a hand with ants crawling out of it, right Rene?
HENRI MATISSE. Remember, a line cannot exist alone; it always brings a companion along. Do remember that one line does nothing; it is only in relation to another that it creates a volume.
ME. Henri, that makes me think of Michelangelo’s The Creation of Adam. That awesome line that connects at their fingertips! I think God is the long-lived person with one or two lines extending through their whole hand; while Adam is the short-lived person whose lines do not extend through his whole hand until God touches him. Aristotle said something like that, I believe. But don’t quote me.
RUDOLF ARNHEIM. mumble, mumble, mumble.
ME. What was that Rudolf? I didn’t hear you. You need to speak up a bit.
RUDOLF ARNHEIM. I said, the line that describes the beautiful is elliptical. It has simplicity and constant change. It cannot be described by a compass, and it changes direction at every one of its points.
ME. Oops! House lights to half … talk to you at intermission Rudolf. (Stage Whisper) I don’t want to miss the opening lines.
(End)
BIO
Rosalind Isquith hails from Thetford, VT. A scenic designer and artist, Rozy has enjoyed designing and painting for venues throughout New England after receiving her B.A. in Theatre from the University of Vermont. Rozy is currently working towards her Masters in Fine Arts in scenic design at The Pennsylvania State University.
William J. Doan, Ph.D. is a past president of the Association for Theatre in Higher Education and a Fellow in the College of Fellows of The American Theatre. In addition to articles in scholarly journals, Doan has co-authored three books and several plays. He has created solo performance projects at a variety of venues across the U.S., and abroad. His current work includes a new performance piece, Frozen In The Toilet Paper Aisle of Life, part of a larger project titled The Anxiety Project. Work from this project includes multiple short graphic narratives published in the Annals of Internal Medicine/Graphic Medicine. He is a Professor of Theatre in the College of Arts and Architecture and Director of the Arts and Design Research Incubator at The Pennsylvania State University. Doan served as the Penn State Laureate for 2019-2020.