I brought my bright pink water bottle out to the bathrooms we share with the audience. It occurred to me that 10 minutes before show time I would probably run into an audience member or two at the water cooler. I imagined being an audience member seeing a dirt encrusted shadowy grave digger filling a bright pink water bottle at a water cooler outside the bathrooms.

Only at Redmoon I suppose.

It’s harder to image being an audience member during the show. Opening night, wrestling with last minute changes, most of my synapses were focused on remembering the next cue, getting the dirt box over that snag, making sure the puppets didn’t lose any extremities. I was consumed in imperfections like my errant shadow screen blip and the excess fog, and taking mental notes on how I might more gracefully navigate around a box or position my hand to manipulate a puppet’s head. It wasn’t until the final blackout of the show that I considered the perceptions of our observers.

There in the black was a tangible silence. It lasted only a moment, but it was heavy with sense lost in something profound. Just what that something is, I probably won’t ever know, but I feel blessed to be a part of it.

–Alice Wedoff