What Makes a Piece of Art Stick?

Yesterday, Van and I saw Eurydice by Sara Ruhl at Signature Theatre in New York. Beautifully acted, with a crooked, dream-like set, the play made me think about what makes a piece of art stay in our minds, pierce the layer of cynicism or busyness that we carry around with us like Pigpen’s cloud of dirt.

Theatre is one of the few remaining art forms that demands our full attention. We’re in a shared experience in a darkened room. The woman with the crackling cough drop wrapper or squealing hearing aid is as much a part of the experience as the actors and set. Staff at the beginning ask us to turn off electronics. We do it so as not to distract the performers, but also for each other’s good. We do it to preserve our own concentration—and enjoyment—and when we concentrate, we create room for the art to become part of us.

One of the interesting things about any art is how it’s interpreted. The first time I saw the play Proof was in Vermont at a summer stock theatre in Weston, where it was presented primarily as a love story. The second time I saw it, on Broadway with Anne Heche in the lead, it was about genius and madness, fathers and daughters, and belief in the power of creativity and the mind. One director’s, photographer’s, or poet’s view of an object or moment (Wordsworth’s daffodils come to mind) can forever change our perception. Or, if we are artists, our perception can change someone. The work doesn’t need an overt message to make us consider our place in the world.

(Spoiler alert!) Yesterday’s performance of Eurydice seemed to center around the love and protection men—both lovers and fathers—can and can’t offer women, which seemed an odd interpretation of the myth, as well as vaguely anti-feminist. Maya Hawke played Eurydice as naive and needy, young and unable to stand up for herself. In fact, because she is frightened, she calls out, causing Orpheus to turn and send her back to the underworld, where her father, already having chosen forgetfulness, cannot save her from the desires of the Lord of the Underworld. I’m curious why a modern female playwright would tell the story that way. There are several versions of the myth, all mostly about Orpheus’s choices, so making Eurydice the center of the play is an important change. Or maybe Eurydice’s way is the way of death—emotional, spiritual, physical. Or maybe I’ve got it all wrong. If you’ve seen it, I’d love to hear your point of view. I’ll be thinking about it for a while. That’s part of the fun.

How about you? What work of art sticks in your mind and why?

Thanks for reading.