
Mordake
which talks to me forever of such things as they speak of only in hell Shotwell Studios: 3252-A 19th Street (@ Shotwell) San Francisco 8pm Thurs - Sat May 22-24 2008 8pm Thurs - Sat May 29-31 2008 8pm Thurs - Sat June 5-7 2008 2pm Sun June 1 2008 Tickets $20 sfiaf.org 800-838-3006 presented by Erling Wold's Fabrications as part of the San Francisco International Arts Festival An opera by by ERLING WOLD on a libretto by DOUGLAS KEARNEY Starring JOHN DUYKERS Direction MELISSA WEAVER Interactive video FRIEDER WEISS Paintings & drawings LYNNE RUTTER Costumes KATHLEEN CROWLEY Additional sounds THOM BLUM Coproduced by Erling Wold's Fabrications, Agape Performance Group, the San Francisco International Arts Festival, Intersection for the Arts, Musical Traditions and Footloose Presents Supported in part by San Francisco Grants for the Arts, the Argosy Foundation, San Francisco Arts Commission and the American Composers Forum. One of the weirdest as well as most melancholy stories of human deformity is that of Edward Mordake, said to have been heir to one of the noblest peerages in England. He never claimed the title. He lived in complete seclusion refusing the visits even of the members of his own family. He was a man of fine attainments, a profound scholar, and a musician of rare ability. His figure was remarkable for its grace, and his face--that is to say, his natural face--was that of an Antinous. But upon the back of his head was another face, that of a beautiful girl, 'lovely as a dream, hideous as a devil.' The female face was a mere mask, 'occupying only a small portion of the posterior part of the skull, yet exhibiting every sign of intelligence, of a malignant sort, however.' It would be seen to smile and sneer while Mordake was weeping. The eyes would follow the movements of the spectator, and the lips would 'gibber without ceasing.' No voice was audible, but Mordake avers that he was kept from his rest at night by the hateful whispers of his 'devil twin,' as he called it, 'which never sleeps, but talks to me forever of such things as they only speak of in hell. Details

Mordake

which talks to me forever of such things as they speak of only in hell

Shotwell Studios: 3252-A 19th Street (@ Shotwell) San Francisco

8pm Thurs - Sat May 22-24 2008

8pm Thurs - Sat May 29-31 2008

8pm Thurs - Sat June 5-7 2008

2pm Sun June 1 2008

Tickets $20

sfiaf.org 800-838-3006

presented by Erling Wold's Fabrications as part of the San Francisco International Arts Festival

An opera by by ERLING WOLD on a libretto by DOUGLAS KEARNEY

Starring JOHN DUYKERS

Direction MELISSA WEAVER

Interactive video FRIEDER WEISS

Paintings & drawings LYNNE RUTTER

Costumes KATHLEEN CROWLEY

Additional sounds THOM BLUM

Coproduced by Erling Wold's Fabrications, Agape Performance Group, the San Francisco International Arts Festival, Intersection for the Arts, Musical Traditions and Footloose Presents

Supported in part by San Francisco Grants for the Arts, the Argosy Foundation, San Francisco Arts Commission and the American Composers Forum.

One of the weirdest as well as most melancholy stories of human deformity is that of Edward Mordake, said to have been heir to one of the noblest peerages in England. He never claimed the title. He lived in complete seclusion refusing the visits even of the members of his own family. He was a man of fine attainments, a profound scholar, and a musician of rare ability. His figure was remarkable for its grace, and his face--that is to say, his natural face--was that of an Antinous. But upon the back of his head was another face, that of a beautiful girl, 'lovely as a dream, hideous as a devil.' The female face was a mere mask, 'occupying only a small portion of the posterior part of the skull, yet exhibiting every sign of intelligence, of a malignant sort, however.' It would be seen to smile and sneer while Mordake was weeping. The eyes would follow the movements of the spectator, and the lips would 'gibber without ceasing.' No voice was audible, but Mordake avers that he was kept from his rest at night by the hateful whispers of his 'devil twin,' as he called it, 'which never sleeps, but talks to me forever of such things as they only speak of in hell.

Details