Kathryn Oliver
creativity, gardening and the invisible thread...
updated
www.mythichearttheatre.com
“Autumn Moon Dreams” is performed by Kristi Williamson. Film and masks are created by artistic director Kathryn Oliver. The show also features the photographs of Joyce Tenneson as well as the photomontage of Joan Proudman.
Present - Under The Rose Moon
more info: www.mythichearttheatre.com
Sponsored by Harbor Square Gallery in Camden and Patrisha McLean CEO Finding Our Voices
A unique performance/arts experience In celebration of the summer solstice. Join us as we explore the season's rhythm of outward expression and inward calling through music, dance, mystical poetry and art!
July (Two Weekends!)
Fri 12th, Sat 13th: 7pm
& Sun 14th (Matinee) 4pm
Fri 19th, Sat 20th: 7 pm
& Sun 21st (Matinee) 4pm
Location: Red Door Barn 46 John Street Camden Maine
Price: $25
Doors open 20 minutes before each performance
Saturday March 23rd - 6 pm
Sunday (matinee) March 24th - 3pm
Friday March 29th - 6pm
Saturday March 30th - 6pm
"Spring Awake!" Features Kristi Williamson, Masks by Kathryn Oliver, Musical accompaniment by Lisa Diane, and Special Guest Josiah Glover. Dive into a magical experience of art, myth, dance, and music, with photography by Joyce Tenneson, a tale by Martin Shaw, and Kathryn Oliver's painting exhibit "The Wild Rose" inspired by the Scottish Ballad: Tamlin.
Each performance has limited seating. Tickets $25 - reserve your seat through venmo: @Kathryn-Oliver-32 or email through our contact form and specify the date you’d like to attend.
Location: Red Door Barn, 46 John Street, Camden, Maine
Time: 7pm
Suggested Donation: $20-$30
LIMITED SEATING
(pre buy a ticket and save your spot through Venmo: Kathryn-Oliver-32)
Join us for an offering of song, dance, and mystical poetry by Kristi, interwoven into an installation of large scale paintings from Kathryn’s series, "Where Are You Going, Soul?”
*Moving between performance and an invitation for audience participation.
The Rose Full Moon occurs during solstice season reflecting a rosy hue due to its close proximity to the earth. It coincides with the sweetness of wild strawberries, perfume of roses and signifies a gathering of fruit, vitality of blossom and ripening of spirit.
After the ceremony, we will gather for conversation and enjoy rose petal garden tea. "Hand-made prayer altars" from Kathryn’s paintings and cards by Joan Proudman Art will be available for sale.
About Honey In The Heart
Our story begins as an invocation to flee a broken, disenchanted world, a world that has lost its sacredness and meaning. We venture not to faraway lands but rather deep into the intimate terrain of the human heart.
Like a labyrinth with unexpected twists and turns, the journey unfolds in surprising ways. We confront strange, dream-like characters and tricksters all of whom beckon us like ‘breadcrumbs on the path’ to go deep into the realms of imaginal thinking and intuitive perceptions.
It is here where illusions are challenged and opportunities for participation and transformation arise, making this personal tale a universal one as well, a ‘Honey-making’ journey into the depths of the Human Heart.
Kristi Williamson performs this one-woman-show drawing inspiration from her studies in ancient sacred dance, expressive music, mystical poetry and archetypal mask-work. Kathryn Oliver weaves the script together from beloved passages of timeless literature and mythical story, combined with her poetry films, and mask creations.
passage: Hermann Hesse
Passage in notebook: “The language of flowers and all things silent.” Charles Baudelaire
narration: Samaneri Jayasāra - Wisdom of the Masters
Links:
More info: www.kathrynoliverandkristiwilliamsoncollaborations.com
Samaneri Jayasāra - Wisdom of the Masters: youtube.com/c/SamaneriJayasara
To the few things I had learned so far on the way to my true aim in life, this new thing was now added: A surrendering to nature’s irrational forms produces in us a feeling of inner harmony with the will that gave rise to these forms. We soon feel the temptation of thinking of them as being our own moods, our own creations and see the boundaries separating us from Nature begin to quiver and dissolve. We become acquainted with that state of mind in which we are unable to decide whether the images on our retina are the result of external impressions or come from within. In no other way than through this practice do we discover so simply and easily how very creative we are. How much our soul always participates in the perpetual creation of the world. For it is the same indivisible divinity that is active through us and in Nature. Yes, every natural form is latent within us, originates in the soul whose essence is eternity, whose essence we cannot know but which most often intimates itself to us as the power to love and create. - Hermann Hesse, Damian
A collage of my paintings set to poetry and music.
There is a bird on this body tree
That dances in the ecstasy of life.
No one knows where it is,
And who could ever know
What its music means?
It nests where branches cast deep shadow;
It comes in the dusk and flies away at dawn
And never says a word of what it intends.
No one can tell me anything
About this bird that sings in my blood.
It isn’t colored or colorless;
It doesn’t have a form, or outline;
It sits always in the shadow of love.
It lives within the Unreachable, the Boundless, the Eternal
And no one can tell when it comes or when it goes.
Kabir says, “Fellow seeker,
The mystery of this birdIs marvelous and profound.
Be wise; struggle to know
Where this bird comes to rest.”
- 15c mystic poet and saint Kabir
Narrated by Samaneri Jayasāra - Wisdom of the Masters: youtube.com/c/SamaneriJayasara
more info: kathrynoliverandkristiwilliamsoncollaborations.com
poem: The Way It Is by William Stafford
There’s a thread you follow. It goes among
things that change. But it doesn’t change.
People wonder about what you are pursuing.
You have to explain about the thread.
But it is hard for others to see.
While you hold it you can’t get lost.
Tragedies happen; people get hurt
or die; and you suffer and get old.
Nothing you do can stop time’s unfolding.
You don’t ever let go of the thread.
To support this project: gofund.me/a5d03bdd
For more info on our work together please visit: kathrynoliverandkristiwilliamsoncollaborations.com
Honey in The Heart by Kathryn Oliver and Kristi Williamson.
Also featuring the wonderful artwork of seven different visual artists ... more soon :)
Intro photomontage by Joan Proudman.
There’s a thread you follow. It goes among
things that change. But it doesn’t change.
People wonder about what you are pursuing.
You have to explain about the thread.
But it is hard for others to see.
While you hold it you can’t get lost.
Tragedies happen; people get hurt
or die; and you suffer and get old.
Nothing you do can stop time’s unfolding.
Don’t ever let go of the thread. - William Stafford
(It's part dream...part not).
It begins on the summer solstice,
in fields overflowing with purple clover. And despite the drought, the ground is lush
and covered with swallowtail butterflies.
We then travel roundabout,
from my backyard garden, where roses bloom, to Fiorenze’s storehouses of marbled gods and a pink-robed angel.
Finally:
ice crystal trees,
cardinals singing,
and winter solstice arrives.
And the mysterious …
Yes.
www.kathrynoliver.com
Where will your feet take you?
Where will your mind lead you?
Where will your tears flow?
Where will your heart pull you?
Where will your body agree to go?
What are you willing to embrace?
… And do you feel
the apprehension
that murmurs in your chest
like a fluttering bird,
the uncertainty…
that makes you weak in the knees?
And will you… go anyway?
www.kathrynoliver.com
A short film weaving together an adaptation by the writer Henry Miller and an excerpt from a letter by the poet John Keats with music by Olafur Arnalds.
"Always …
we are led
back
to the heart.
It is here
Where everything is determined.
We must organize around the heart
Or …
life will fall apart.
The heart: true theater of operation.
What happens outside in the world
is only the echo of the passion play
which goes on in the soul of every individual.
The only true revolutionaries …
are
the inspirers and the activators.
So the question is …
Where do you stand in relation to life?
Rather, how do you affect life itself?
Do you impose yourself upon life?
Or do you open yourself up to life?
Do you hunger for life?
Do you exalt life?
Those who have most influenced the world
did not remove themselves from the world,
nor did they deny life.
Instead,
they lifted themselves out of the vicious circle.
They affirmed life.
-- adapted from Henry Miller, Remember to remember
"Call the world, if you please
The Vale of Soul-making
And then you will know
the meaning of the world."
-- John Keats, from a letter written to Georgiana Keats, 1819
My friend and I were on a walk and she asked me, “Where do you get ideas for paintings from?”
I hope you enjoy.
Bewildered By Beauty, Sept. 2020
Paintings by Kathryn Oliver
www.kathrynoliver.com
Music: Yiruma "When The Love Falls"
I go down to the shore in the morning
and depending on the hour the waves
are rolling in or moving out,
and I say, oh, I am miserable,
what shall—
what should I do? And the sea says
in its lovely voice:
Excuse me, I have work to do. -- Mary Oliver
If the unheard, unspoken
Word is unspoken, unheard;
Still is the unspoken word, the Word unheard,
The Word without a word, the Word within
The world and for the world;
And the light shone in darkness and
Against the Word the unstilled world still whirled
About the centre of the silent Word.
TS Eliot
excerpt from his poem Ash Wednesday
www.kathrynoliver.com
film by Kathryn Oliver www.kathrynoliver.com
"Almost all our sadnesses are moments of tension that we find paralyzing because we no longer hear our surprised feelings living. Because we are alone with the alien thing that has entered into our self; because everything intimate and accustomed is for an instant taken away; because we stand in the middle of a transition where we cannot remain standing. For this reason the sadness too passes: the new thing in us, the added thing, has entered into our heart, has gone into its inmost chamber and is not even there any more, — is already in our blood. And we do not learn what it was. We could easily be made to believe that nothing has happened, and yet we have changed, as a house changes into which a guest has entered.
We cannot say who has come, perhaps we shall never know, but many signs indicate that the future enters into us in this way in order to transform itself in us long before it happens."
This reverberation
Perplex light
Lands glass- wise
On a vertical.
Did you rush whispering,
Just now?
Blown-through
Fast and thorough.
You are not a pedicel I see,
But she who catches me
In-twirls spirling
And then betimes
Recedes, reclusive-wise,
A smallness
Answering the
Land’s width
In your exacting billow
Without holding on.
poem and filming by Kathryn Oliver
more info: www.kathrynoliver.com
Wild things in forest deep
dance the night
dreamy sleep
From my window
all I see
wild forest beckon me
Sun and moon,
sky and stars
the earth and me below —
Reflect a pattern true of words
and deeds I sow
Sweet apple ripens crooked trees
falling to the earth
Bursting from in a star so bright
seeds of black
black of night
If you go to garden green
take me to
flowers true
Braid a crown
of earth and sky — so blue
When sorrows flood my path
my eyes
weave me a pair of wings
When I lose my way I cry
returning song within
Like a tree all alone
grows leaves
that fly
9th Duino Elegy by Rainer Maria Rilke
Why—when we might have been laurel trees,
a little darker than all the other greenery,
with tiny curves at the edge of every leaf
(like the smiles of a wind)—why, then,
did we have to be made human, so that
denying our destiny, we still long for it?
Certainly not because happiness really exists,
that quick gain of an approaching loss.
Not to experience wonder or to exercise the heart.
The laurel tree could have done all that.
But because just being here matters, because
the things of this world, these passing things,
seem to need us, to put themselves in our care
somehow. Us, the most passing of all.
Once for each, just once. Once and no more.
And for us too, once. Never again. And yet
it seems that this—to have once existed,
even if only once, to have been a part
of this earth—can never be taken back.
And so we keep going, trying to achieve it,
trying to hold it in our simple hands,
our already crowded eyes, our dumbfounded hearts.
Trying to become it. And yet who do we plan
to give it to? True, we'd rather keep it all
ourselves, forever. But into that other state
what can be taken across? Not the ability to see,
which we learn here so slowly, and not anything
that's happened here. None of it.
And so, before everything else,
the weariness. The long business of love.
Only the completely indescribable things.
For the traveler doesn't bring back
from the mountainside to the valley
a handful of earth, which would explain nothing
to anyone, but rather some acquired word, pure,
a blue and yellow gentian. And are we here,
perhaps, merely to say: house, bridge, fountain,gate, jar, fruit tree, window—at most,
pillar, tower? But to say them, you understand—
to say them in such a way that even the things
themselves never hoped to exist so intensely.
Isn't the sly earth's secret purpose,
when it urges two lovers on, that all of creation
should share in their shudder of ecstasy?
A doorsill: the simple way two lovers
will wear down the sill of their door a little—
they too, besides those who came before
and those who will come after . . . gently.
Here is the time for what you can say,
this is its country. Speak and acknowledge.
More than ever things are falling away—
the things that we live with—and what is replacing them
is an urge without image.
An urge whose crusts
will crumble as soon as it grows too large
and tries to get out. Between the hammerblows
our heart survives—just as the tongue, even
between the teeth, still manages to praise.
Praise, but tell the angel about the world,
not the indescribable. You can't impress him
with your lofty feelings; in the universe,
where he feels with far greater feeling, you're
just a beginner.
So show him some simple thing,
something that's fashioned from generation to generation
until it becomes really ours, and lives near our hand,
and in our eyes. Tell him about the things.
He'll stand there amazed --
the way you stood
beside the rope-maker in Rome or the potter on the Nile.
Show him how happy a thing can be, how innocent
and ours, how even the groan of sorrow decides
to become pure form
... escaping to the beyond,
ecstatic, out of the violin. And these things,
that live only in passing, they understand
that you praise them. Fleeting, they look to us,
the most fleeting, for help. They hope that within
our invisible hearts we will change them entirely into—
oh endlessly—into us! Whoever we finally are.
Earth, isn't this what you want, to rise up in us
invisible? Isn't it your dream to be someday
invisible?
Earth! Invisible! If not this change,
what do you ask for so urgently? Earth, loved one,
I will. Believe me, you don't need any more
of your springtimes to win me: one
is already more than my blood can take.
For as long as I can remember, I've been yours
completely.
You
who never arrived
in my arms
Beloved
who were lost from the start.
I don't even know what songs would please you.
I have given up trying to recognize you
in the surging wave of the next moment.
All the immense images in me
the far-off but deeply-felt --
landscape,
cities,
towers,
and bridges.
The unsuspected
turns in the path.
And those powerful lands that were once pulsing with the life of the gods.
All rise within me
to mean,
You --
who forever elude me.
You, Beloved, who are all
the gardens I have ever gazed at,
longing.
An open window in a country house
and you almost stepped out
pensive, to meet me.
Streets that I chanced upon
you had just walked down them
and vanished.
Who knows?
perhaps the same bird echoed
through both of us
yesterday,
separate,
in the evening ...
Filming and narration by Kathryn Oliver
www.kathrynoliver.com
Notes:
experiments in 'weaving together' poetry, images, film, music and narration
Writings:
Anecdotes Of Destiny - General Lowenheilm's speech, Isak Dineson, ' Babbette's Feast'
A Rushed Account Of The Dew - Alice Oswald
Filming and editing by Kathryn Oliver
Narration and writing selections by Catherine Pickstock
“Man, my friends, is frail and foolish. We have all of us been told that grace is to be found in the universe. But in our human foolishness and short-sightedness we imagine divine grace to be finite. For this reason we tremble…
We tremble before making our choice in life, and after having made it again tremble in fear of having chosen wrong.
But the moment comes when our eyes are opened, and we see and realize that grace is infinite. Grace, my friends, demands nothing from us but that we shall await it with confidence and acknowledge it in gratitude. …
That which we have chosen is given us, and that which we have refused is, also and at the same time, granted us.
That which we have rejected is poured upon us abundantly. For mercy and truth have met together, and righteousness and bliss have kissed one another.”
— General Loewenhielm’s speech from Babette’s Feast
I who can blink
to break the spell of daylight
and what a sliding screen between worlds
is a blink
I who can hear the last three seconds in my head
but the present is beyond me
listen
in this tiny moment of reflexion
I want to work out what it’s like to descend
out of the dawn’s mind
and find a leaf and fasten the known to the unknown
with a liquid cufflink
and then unfasten
to be brief
to be almost actual
oh pristine example
of claiming a place on the earth
only to cancel
-- 'A Rushed Account Of The Dew' Alice Oswald from Falling awake
more info: www.kathrynoliver.com
narration by Catherine Pickstock
music by Zbigniew Preisner
A Short Story of Falling by Alice Oswald
It is the story of the falling rain
to turn into a leaf and fall again
it is the secret of a summer shower
to steal the light and hide it in a flower
and every flower a tiny tributary
that from the ground flows green and momentary
is one of water’s wishes and this tale
hangs in a seed-head smaller than my thumbnail
if only I a passerby could pass
as clear as water through a plume of grass
to find the sunlight hidden at the tip
turning to seed a kind of lifting rain drip
then I might know like water how to balance
the weight of hope against the light of patience
water which is so raw so earthy-strong
and lurks in cast-iron tanks and leaks along
drawn under gravity towards my tongue
to cool and fill the pipe-work of this song
which is the story of the falling rain
that rises to the light and falls again
words by Catherine Pickstock
filming and editing by Kathryn Oliver
music by Qualitati Umane
excerpt used from interview by David Cayley with Catherine Pickstock and John Milbank.
black and white photography by Ralph Hassenpflug
paintings by Giotto, Blake, Raphael, Chagall
more info: www.kathrynoliver.com
words: Catherine Pickstock
music: Zbignew Preisner
an excerpt from a conversation between Catherine Pickstock, John Milbank and David Cayley: youtube.com/watch?v=vMn6q1z7Oxk&t=1117s
There is something formless yet complete
That existed before heaven and earth.
How still. How empty.
Dependent on nothing, unchanging.
All pervading. Unfailing.
One may think of it as the
Mother of all things under Heaven.
I do not know its name
But I call it Meaning
--Lao-tzu, Tao Te Ching
Earth, isn’t this what you want? To arise in us, invisible?
Is it not your dream, to enter us so wholly
there’s nothing left outside us to see?
What, if not transformation,
is your deepest purpose? Earth, my love,
I want it too. Believe me,
no more of your springtimes are needed
to win me over – even ONE flower
is More than enough.
Before I was named
I belonged to you. I see no other law
but yours and know I can trust
the death you will bring.
Look, I am living. On what? Neither childhood nor future
grows any smaller … Superabundant being
wells up in my heart.
— Rainer Maria Rilke, From the Ninth Duino Elegy
Narration:
Ralph Hassenpflug ralphhassenpflug.com
Bea Gonzalez http://www.sophiacycles.com
For more info: Kathrynoliver.com
And where is the place of understanding?
Man does not know its worth,
and it is not found in the land of the living.
The deep says, 'It is not in me,'
and the sea says, 'It is not with me.'
From where, then, does wisdom come?
And where is the place of understanding?
- Book of Job
________________________________________
At the still point of the turning world.
Neither flesh nor fleshless;
Neither from nor towards;
at the still point, there the dance is,
But neither arrest nor movement.
And do not call it fixity,
Where past and future are gathered.
Neither movement from nor towards,
Neither ascent nor decline.
Except for the point,
the still point,
There would be no dance,
and there is only the dance.
― T.S. Eliot, Four Quartets
more info: www.kathrynoliver.com
film & editing by Kathryn Oliver
Sound Design by Marianna Filippi, mariannafilippi.com
Narration by Bea Gonzalez, sophiacycles.com
Dancer: Shana Bloomstein
Filming & editing by Kathryn Oliver
Narration By Bea Gonzalez
Poem by Rumi
Music by Arvo Part
My new short film “Come, Let’s Speak Of Our Souls” with a poem by the 13th c Sufi mystic, Rumi.
COME LET'S SPEAK
of our souls
let's even hide from
our ears and eyes
like a rose garden
always keep a smile
like imagination
talk without a sound
like the spirit
reigning the world
telling the secrets
uttering no word
let's get away from
all the clever humans
who put words in our mouth
let's only say what our hearts desire
even our hands and feet
sense every inner move
let's keep silence
but make our hearts move
the mystery of destiny
knows the life of
speck after speck of dust
let's tell our story as a particle of dust
~ RUMI
And so begins the tale of Serpent Brother.
Through her paintings and story, Kathryn Oliver explores a hidden unity, asking the questions: How are we ruled by what we deny? What happens when aspects we suppress come back with destructive force?
The story comes full circle with the realization that everything carries in itself the seed of its opposite.
Inspired by the traditional folktale The Lindworm.
Links:
www.kathrynoliver.com
"Once upon a time there was an unhappy Kingdom ..." and so begins this timeless tale of longing, temptation, denial and consequences.
Links:
www.kathrynoliverart.com
www.patreon.com/KathrynOliver
I AM ASKING YOU TO STUDY THE DARK
direction, editing & filming
by Kathryn Oliver
still images and narration by
Ralph Hassenpflug
words by
Anne Carson, Plainwater essays and poetry
music by
Arvo Paert, my heart's in the highlands
for more info: www.kathrynoliverart.com
Narration & Performance
Ralph Hassenpflug
Dancers
Shana Bloomstein, Hanna De Hoff & Kristi Williamson (WAXWINGS)
Words:
Jalāl ad-Dīn Muhammad Rūmī "Something inside the moth is made of fire"
Charles Beaudelaire " Hymn to Beauty"
Bhagavad Gita "The Cosmic Vision"
William Blake "Of Heaven and Hell"
Music:
Orson Wells "War Of The Worlds"
Led Zeppelin "Lemon Song"
Hildegard Von Bingen "Voices of Angels"
Schubert "An Die Musik" (poem by Von Shober)
Edward Artemiev "Meditation"
Andres de Haan "Earthquake"
Klaus Schulze "The Cello"
Footage of WAX WINGS by David Wright, 2017
Footage of WAX WINGS by Geoff Parker, 2017
www.waxwingstheater.com
Additional images:
William Blake "Death of the Strong Wicked Man"
The Balck Madonna of Czestochowa Monastery, Poland
Vishnu (Krishna w/ a golden city at his throat), 19c Jaipur, India
Atom Bomb - Hiroshima
Spiral Galaxy, Messier 101
by Martin Shaw © 2016, SCATTERLINGS: Getting Claimed in the Age of Amnesia
Film by Kathryn Oliver
Photography
by Kathryn Oliver and Ralph Hassenpflug © 2015
Narration
by Ralph Hassenpflug
The original script by Oliver weaves literary references, archetypal stories and short films with choreography, original melodies and additional poetry and musical selections by Williamson. Joining them in Wax Wings are dancers, Hanna De Hoff and Shana Bloomstein, Actor, David Troup and Musicians, Molly and Else Gawler, narrator and photographer Ralph Hassenpflug, and costume makers Robin Horty and Kristen Eckmann.
"Wax Wings" highlights the depth of the imagination and explores the complex shadow archetype through visual and dramatic storytelling.
For more info: www.waxwingstheater.com
A mythical theater journey through dance, film, poetry and music.
Visual artist Kathryn Oliver and performing artist Kristi Williamson are continuing their artistic journey in myth and the imagination for 2017.
With timeless poetry and stories in Kathryn's short films, photographs and paintings and Kristi's choreography, dance and original melodies, "Wax Wings" highlights the profundity of the imagination and explores the complex shadow archetype through visual and dramatic storytelling.
For more info: www.waxwingstheater.com
Visual artist Kathryn Oliver and performing artist Kristi Williamson are continuing their artistic journey in myth and the imagination for 2017.
With timeless poetry and stories in Kathryn's short films, photographs and paintings and Kristi's choreography, dance and original melodies, "Wax Wings" highlights the profundity of the imagination and explores the complex shadow archetype through visual and dramatic storytelling.
For more info: www.waxwingstheater.com
music used in trailer: ''Qualitati Umane'' by Thomas Otten
Friday, Sept 29, 7 PM
Saturday, Sept 30, 3 PM
Sunday, Oct 1, 3 PM
Visual artist Kathryn Oliver and performing artist Kristi Williamson’s new production "Wax Wings" is a mythical journey in dance, film, poetry and music.
The original script by Oliver weaves literary references, archetypal stories and short films with choreography and music by Williamson.
Actors, dancers, artists and musicians from Maine's midcoast area make up the cast.
"Wax Wings" highlights the depth of the imagination and explores the complex shadow archetype through visual and dramatic storytelling.
General Admission Tickets $20. Advance tickets available at:
Zoot Coffee in Camden, Bella Books in Belfast & Grasshopper Shop in Rockland
Or at the door on the day of show.
For more info: www.waxwingstheater.com
"Father
Earthly Mother
Divine Seer that sees
Create me again
Take me in your hands
Bring out what’s inside of me
Guide me in these times
While war is being waged
On my family
Oh make me an instrument of song
That I might learn harmony
Anchor into me the rhythm of living love
A song in which I can believe
Take my hands
Lead me onward
May I become the woman
I am meant to be
Give me strength
To keep on walking
Even when I cannot see
And I will carry the torch
From those who have come before
To those who have yet to be
Oh, make me an instrument of song
That I might pass on harmony
Anchor into me the rhythm of living love
A song in which I can believe
Oh Mama
Amen."
ONE WOMAN"S PRAYER by Karisha Longaker.
More info: www.waxwingstheater.com
www.waxwingstheater.com
Visual artist Kathryn Oliver and performing artist Kristi Williamson are continuing their artistic journey in myth and the imagination for 2017.
With timeless poetry and stories in Kathryn's short films, photographs and paintings and Kristi's choreography, dance and original melodies, "Wax Wings" highlights the profundity of the imagination and explores the complex shadow archetype through visual and dramatic storytelling.
For more info: www.waxwingstheater.com
music used in trailer: ''Qualitati Umane'' by Thomas Otten