Recently I was asked by two long-time friends, from Italy no less, how I was doing after closing my/our Theatre in 2012? I was at a loss, it had been seven years and I had never been asked that question before, not by anyone.
After founding and building the Knightsbridge Theatre in 1991, operating the two brick and mortar locations, as well as The National American Shakespeare Company for over twenty years, it seemed odd to me that these two, distant friends, were the first to ask me "how are you doing since you had to close the theatre?" I stumbled, there was a long beat. Eventually something confused and inane fell from my lips, something like "Okay. (long beat) It's been awhile. (longer beat) It's been hard." That was it, I offered nothing eloquent, there was no great revelation, I had simply stored the loss away in one of my many, many deeply hidden vaults where I hide hurt, sadness and pain. Our conversation was short, I moved on quickly to something completely different, something safe, and then I tried to put the thought out of my mind. 'How am I doing since closing the theatre?' was branded into my consciousness or rather my unconsciousness and it has dogged me daily ever since.
Most of my adult life has been spent in the theatre; being surrounded by my many dearly loved theatrical brothers and sisters had become my world and I loved it, it was very hard work, cost me a fortune and was always a struggle, but I loved it. Running a live theatre had become who and what Joseph Stachura was, "Mr. Knightsbridge" had long ago become my common surname.
Images persist, words fail me.
For nearly twenty-three years I had felt like an Eagle soaring high above the earth on warm, welcoming, sometimes turbulent, currents of wind. I was where I belonged, I was doing what I loved, and even more importantly I respected my work and those that I worked with… then it was gone, in what felt like a heartbeat it was, just… gone.
For me losing the theatre was far worse than having my 'metaphorical' wings clipped, it was as if a sledgehammer had been repeatedly slammed down on the bones that supported my wings, what had given me the ability to fly was now crushed, useless and painful. I gracelessly flopped about in the dirt for years unable to stand, let alone walk, while those that I loved and respected quickly stepped around me and moved on with their lives, which is as it should be.
I've floundered about on the ground for years now, still horribly out of balance, still pathetically attempting to walk on spindled legs that have atrophied over many years. Wings once strong and graceful are now limp dead weight that I sadly try to tuck out of sight and drag from place to place, person to person.
How am I doing since closing the Knightsbridge theatre?
Honestly, I'm still stumbling, still out of balance, still broken… but I am trying. And even though I'm still covered in muck, still falling on my face with no way to cushion the impact, I have my memories, I have my theater brothers and sisters and I still have my DREAMS.
Dreams are everything because I make dreams come true and I've still got a few Acts left in me.
