In the world of theater the distance between a dancer’s
dressing room and backstage is often separated by a dark corridor that serves
as a symbolic division between the worlds of fantasy and reality. To make that walk accompanied by a ballerina
is the stuff of bucket lists. I do it on a regular basis and it never gets old.
Last night I made that walk with Atlanta Ballet dancer Nadia
Mara and it proved to be more symbolic than usual. Two hours later, Nadia would
lie center-stage, spot lit, drenched in fake blood dying from a theatrical gunshot
wound that was delivered with terrifyingly real emotion. All the while, I took
aim with my camera and recorded every gory detail as if I were a participant
rather than a photographer. I felt the weight of the moment and tried to
imagine what that experience would actually feel like. Sadly, that scene is
often played out in real-life scenarios that don’t have the benefit of
suspended disbelief.
On this evening, Nadia was accidentally shot by her
stage-lover, and real life friend, Jonah Hooper, they have danced and died in
each other’s arms many times before. Still, the moment felt fresh and the
emotions seemed raw. Increasingly, everywhere I turn these days the killing
ritual is paying another visit. Has it always been this persistent or has my
awareness become more acutely tuned to its hideous frequency? I guess maybe
that’s the point of this on-going exercise I’m conducting.
I’m beginning to think that contextual and situational
circumstance, much like this theatrical illustration, is absolutely at the
center of my belief about gun rights and gun control. That isn’t groundbreaking
news to anyone, but it is a good starting-point for my becoming more at ease
with this controversial subject.
Later, I walked from the theater with another good friend of
mine, Scott Freeman. Scott is a terrific writer and an even better person; he
works as Managing Editor of ArtsATL,
and he has written many stories on a number of controversial subjects. He is a trusted confidant and often engages me in thoughtful conversation. Tonight was no
different.
I decided to ask Scott how he came to terms with his
decision to write difficult stories and he gave me some good advice. “Charlie”,
he said, “I asked that question years ago, and a good friend told me this- Never be paralyzed by the possibilities of
the future”. “How did that work out for you?” I asked. “Well”, he said, “I
received a death threat and someone tried to burn down my house”.
“Thanks Scott!” I said with a smirk. His story definitely
lightened my mood. We parted ways and headed off in different directions to
report on what we had just witnessed in the theater. Scott would write his
review, and I would edit my photos.
For some strange
reason I thought about Petey and wondered what he would think about all of
this.
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