Artistic Statement
Several themes run throughout my work, whether it be fiction, non-fiction, or stage writing. One is loss, through death certainly, but also loss of a different sort — of innocence, of place, of collective memory, of childhood, of natural diversity — and the ways in which loss is, via change, the natural state of existence. Adjacent to that are the themes of grief and regret/guilt, emotions I find often are entwined together in times of loss. A third frequent theme is how we shuttle between connection and isolation, the conflicted ways we both avoid and create those conditions. Finally, science (and to a lesser extent technology), more as a sense of wonderous mystery than a listing of facts, often makes its way into my work, whether it be a character who believes himself to be Galileo (and only speaks lines Galileo actually spoke/wrote), a play exploring the intersection of technology and grief, linked flash essays each focusing on a particular particle (photons or neutrinos, for instance), or a series of longer essays, each with a scientific metaphor at their core (black holes, Pluto’s planetary demotion, quantum physics). These themes play out in my theatrical work not only in the dialogue and character development but also in the way time is often fluid in the plays, moving back and forth between past and present, as we often do when we recall our losses.
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Bill Capossere
Artistic Statement
Several themes run throughout my work, whether it be fiction, non-fiction, or stage writing. One is loss, through death certainly, but also loss of a different sort — of innocence, of place, of collective memory, of childhood, of natural diversity — and the ways in which loss is, via change, the natural state of existence. Adjacent to that are the themes of grief and regret/guilt, emotions I find often are entwined together in times of loss. A third frequent theme is how we shuttle between connection and isolation, the conflicted ways we both avoid and create those conditions. Finally, science (and to a lesser extent technology), more as a sense of wonderous mystery than a listing of facts, often makes its way into my work, whether it be a character who believes himself to be Galileo (and only speaks lines Galileo actually spoke/wrote), a play exploring the intersection of technology and grief, linked flash essays each focusing on a particular particle (photons or neutrinos, for instance), or a series of longer essays, each with a scientific metaphor at their core (black holes, Pluto’s planetary demotion, quantum physics). These themes play out in my theatrical work not only in the dialogue and character development but also in the way time is often fluid in the plays, moving back and forth between past and present, as we often do when we recall our losses.