It had been three years since I last set foot inside Dunedin's Globe Theatre, and although wary I judged it safe enough to return. The play I wanted to see was about the life and works of Helen Martins of New Bethesda, who strived within a crushingly conservative community to bring light and colour into her life by embellishing her environment with reflective mirror patterns and concrete sculptures of the oddest, most eccentric kind. Her home – the Owl House – is now a famous tourist attraction in South Africa, a ‘Mecca’ of sorts with lots of mirrors.
http://www.owlhouse.co.za/
I remembered those cramped red seats and close, interiorized setting. The play was intense, brilliantly acted, a credit to cast and director. But unexpectedly at the play’s ending, that moment when the cast usually takes their bows, we the audience, were asked “do please stand for a minute’s silence” (we weren’t sure if this odd request was part of the play, or not?). Turns out the photographer responsible for taking promotional shots a few days earlier had died unexpectedly. That really creeped me out!
Because three years earlier, my crew and I were photographing masks for publicity purposes in the old Globe theatre just days before death struck…
...We found a rich red coat amongst the Globe’s comprehensive costume collection and had dressed the model in coat and red “Death” (no-one but me knew the mask she wore was named “Death”). Inside the Globe was pretty gloomy. Our photographer’s assistant, a talented young photography student from Japan, was running late so my job was to reflect light onto the model using a large mirror found on site.
Just as I was hefting the mirror into a good position the student photographer duly appeared, but when she suddenly lunged across the darkened space and grabbed the mirror off me, focusing its light onto the mask herself, I thought Okaaay. Slightly miffed, I got out of the way in the nick of time as the death mask reflection fell on her, not me.
Less than a week later she drove her car in front of a fast moving train after taking photos at the beach. Her last roll of film went to Japan (what manner of images was on it I wonder) along with her munted body.
Now I caution mask makers to NEVER name a mask “Death” although mirrored reflections bouncing around the space seem more hazardous than the mask itself.
http://www.owlhouse.co.za/
I remembered those cramped red seats and close, interiorized setting. The play was intense, brilliantly acted, a credit to cast and director. But unexpectedly at the play’s ending, that moment when the cast usually takes their bows, we the audience, were asked “do please stand for a minute’s silence” (we weren’t sure if this odd request was part of the play, or not?). Turns out the photographer responsible for taking promotional shots a few days earlier had died unexpectedly. That really creeped me out!
Because three years earlier, my crew and I were photographing masks for publicity purposes in the old Globe theatre just days before death struck…
...We found a rich red coat amongst the Globe’s comprehensive costume collection and had dressed the model in coat and red “Death” (no-one but me knew the mask she wore was named “Death”). Inside the Globe was pretty gloomy. Our photographer’s assistant, a talented young photography student from Japan, was running late so my job was to reflect light onto the model using a large mirror found on site.
Just as I was hefting the mirror into a good position the student photographer duly appeared, but when she suddenly lunged across the darkened space and grabbed the mirror off me, focusing its light onto the mask herself, I thought Okaaay. Slightly miffed, I got out of the way in the nick of time as the death mask reflection fell on her, not me.
Less than a week later she drove her car in front of a fast moving train after taking photos at the beach. Her last roll of film went to Japan (what manner of images was on it I wonder) along with her munted body.
Now I caution mask makers to NEVER name a mask “Death” although mirrored reflections bouncing around the space seem more hazardous than the mask itself.
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