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Posters for Unwritten Plays

Posters for Unwritten Plays Posters for Unwritten Plays Oana Cajal Imagination is the voice of daring. If there is anything godlike about God, it is that He dared to imagine everything. —Henry Miller, Sexus I was born in my parents’ home in Bucharest, under the spell cast by Miss Pogany’s mesmerizing bronze eyes. I must have thought she was my fairy godmother. This iconic symbol of modern sculpture by Constantin Brancusi was the soul of my grandfather’s art collection. At nine-years-old I had my first exhibition, in the orchard in front of my grandparents’ summerhouse. I hung my paintings on a laundry rope, between two cherry trees in blossom. My grandfather ceremoniously attended the vernissage and he, the revered Maecenas of the interwar Romanian artists from Balcick, bought all my paintings. At eighteen years old I was prepared to enter l’Institut des Beaux Arts. The day before the exam I inexplicably changed my mind and went instead to the Institute of Theatre and Cinema Studies. I graduated with honors in theatre criticism and got a job in the literary department of the National Theatre in Bucharest. I hated the censorship (Beckett and Ionesco were forbidden, words were under constant surveillance), but I http://www.deepdyve.com/assets/images/DeepDyve-Logo-lg.png PAJ: A Journal of Performance and Art MIT Press

Posters for Unwritten Plays

PAJ: A Journal of Performance and Art , Volume 38 (1) – Jan 1, 2016

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Publisher
MIT Press
Copyright
© 2016 Oana Cajal
Subject
Portfolio
ISSN
1520-281X
eISSN
1537-9477
DOI
10.1162/PAJJ_a_00293
Publisher site
See Article on Publisher Site

Abstract

Posters for Unwritten Plays Oana Cajal Imagination is the voice of daring. If there is anything godlike about God, it is that He dared to imagine everything. —Henry Miller, Sexus I was born in my parents’ home in Bucharest, under the spell cast by Miss Pogany’s mesmerizing bronze eyes. I must have thought she was my fairy godmother. This iconic symbol of modern sculpture by Constantin Brancusi was the soul of my grandfather’s art collection. At nine-years-old I had my first exhibition, in the orchard in front of my grandparents’ summerhouse. I hung my paintings on a laundry rope, between two cherry trees in blossom. My grandfather ceremoniously attended the vernissage and he, the revered Maecenas of the interwar Romanian artists from Balcick, bought all my paintings. At eighteen years old I was prepared to enter l’Institut des Beaux Arts. The day before the exam I inexplicably changed my mind and went instead to the Institute of Theatre and Cinema Studies. I graduated with honors in theatre criticism and got a job in the literary department of the National Theatre in Bucharest. I hated the censorship (Beckett and Ionesco were forbidden, words were under constant surveillance), but I

Journal

PAJ: A Journal of Performance and ArtMIT Press

Published: Jan 1, 2016

There are no references for this article.