Enchanting. Spirited. Hopeful. Stirring. 

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I’ve always loved a good story. My favorites were (and, honestly, continue to be) ones that are filled with fantastic lore: witches, wizards, precocious children, rogues, dragons, and hobbits in magical worlds that always seem larger, richer, and more vibrant than my mundane one. I found great joy when I read The Electric Baby, which seemed to be a play about the power of story that grounds the magic and mystery of my beloved fairy and folk tales in the world that we all inhabit.

The Electric Baby presents people in the throes of two of the most universal human experiences—grief and change.  It meditates on the way that narrative helps us to make sense of life’s sadness while it shows our ability to offer compassion to one another, even from the depths of our own pain. For me, The Electric Baby is about the strength of the human spirit and the capacity of the human heart—our grief is always part of a larger story that is ever unfolding, ever being written.

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The design team and I worked together to tell this story across different media and we embraced the magical realism of the script. Cords of electric lights connected the baby to the moon, which wanes and waxes in time with the play's movement. Traditional folktales are envisioned through movement and puppetry. The set evokes medieval triptychs, emphasizing that the stories we see unfolding are meant to be seen together.

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Photo credits: Will Kerner

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