I wasn’t sure where this was going to go. It‘s a simple conversation. An honest one. Neither interlocutor appears to be hiding anything. Yet the tension soars from the start and lingers after the final fade. My imagination got ahead of itself but I watch horror movies. This is a tale of suppression: of sexuality, of emotion, of history… of a life. The irony of the honesty is that the conversation is about constructing an eternal lie – the fabrication of a fabrication. The characterizations are subtle, there is no melodrama. A gently brutal examination of love and grief.

This is the first time I have seen that particular painting. The play really illustrates the melancholic feeling that emanates from the painting. What a striking short play!

This play just aches with truth: a painting that is truth, a relationship that is truth and when the world gets its act together - what better truth is there than love? You want to shake Adrian but you don’t because he is a product of those (and these) times. You want to embrace Knut in his grief and as you question the final moment, wonder if he is also part of those times even though he fights it. And you yearn - for a time - where truth in legacy allows all love.