On my ever expanding list of topics for future PLANK articles there is one entitled “why are some reviews harder to write than others?” Queen Lear by Eugene Strickland, currently on at Presentation House and produced by Western Gold is proving to be a nightmare of a review to write. Why? Well, in part because I didn’t feel much of anything for this show. It is a show that could be comfortably produced in a church basement somewhere in the Fraser Valley, by an amateur theatre troupe (the type that the show gently mocks throughout) or at...
Shirley Broderick (left), Jennifer McPhee and a cello
Witnessing has its costs, its collateral damage. Artists run the risk of vicarious traumatization, but being forced to look is a far different act than forcing a look. This distinction is made between a present-day Métis journalist, Angeline, and the 19th Century photographer, Edward Curtis.
