In the autumn of 1895, in a cottage at the middle of a Russian farm, the 35 years-old dramatist Anton Chekhov wrote in his letter: “I’m going to write something strange. I am writing it not without pleasure, though I swear fearfully at the conventions of the stage. It's a comedy, there are three women's parts, six men's, four acts, a landscapes (view over a lake); many conversations about literature, hardly any action, tons of love.” The “strange thing” turned out to be The Seagull, a play now-considered to be one of the greatest in history, in which Chekhov declared with Konstantine’s speech: “We need new forms.”
Now, this autumn, at CalArts, we’re going to do something strange: we’re going to build a world that’s part-theater, part-gallery, part-fashion show, and throw all the Chekhovian characters inside. They’ll walk inside art-light installation, they’ll wear couture with fashion styles, and be immersed in a spatialized ambisonic soundscape. And seriously, it’s going to be funny.
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