1 minute read
Prologue from the Artistic Director
Some things the word “home” means:
The place we were born.
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The neighborhood we grew up in.
The place we sleep.
Where we dream.
Where we gather with our family.
The house of our ancestors.
The place we keep our stuff.
Where we arrange our space.
And rearrange our space.
Where we build things, fix things.
Where our private life happens.
Where we share our most intimate selves. (Or not.)
Where we cherish our solitude. (Or not.)
Where the kids were raised.
Where the dog died.
Where the reception took place and that crazy thing happened.
Where the car is parked.
Where we get ready to go out.
Where we keep coming back.
Where we can’t sleep but still dream of the world.
Where we grow, suffer, celebrate, get sick, get better, and maybe, if we’re lucky, leave this world.
The place of our deepest attachments.
And yet….
As I write this letter, I am suddenly overtaken by the awareness that for the last 33 years, the place I have spent the greatest percentage of my time is this theatre. I have spent more waking hours within the campus of Berkeley Rep than I have in any domestic dwelling. And while I have never slept at the theatre (nor have I ever wanted to), it is the home of my waking dreams where I have watched hundreds of imaginary worlds constructed, hundreds of “homes” built and then torn down. Where my life, both conscious and dreaming, has intersected with the lives of my fellow workers. My attachments here run very deep, into the wellspring of my past and the trajectory of who I aspire to be.
So it is with no small amount of wonder that we welcome the extraordinary Geoff Sobelle as he and his company invite us to celebrate our eternal yearning for home.
Thanks for letting me share the house with you.
As always,
Tony Taccone
