Act II:
"There is too much control," the Kelly voiceover again. "We ask for too much control pooling color and placing it so deliberately, with reason and method, across the canvas. There is no time for emotion, or eruption of feeling here. This is why I draw."
The color drains out of the shapes, and the shapes revert back to blocks of varying gray, black, white. The scrim rises, and the stage is bare - and quiet. The lights dim, and the city sounds become a single violin note, extended and extended.
Another slide, projected on the bricks at the back of the theater. And another dialog, this time with the wall itself as ground:
"Grass, cracks in the wall [and in the sidewalk]. All the randomness of a million pieces and variations. This way of composing was endless and didn’t need me."
She’s naked now, and the hard edges are gone, replaced by uneven washes of ink, by unruly lines, unbalanced chunks of black and white - again, projected across her.
She begins to move, as his hands begin to move.
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