Why plays must end as they will: ‘the Gods look down / expect the unexpected … end of story. Black. / End’. Reflecting on the reading of plays before you see them! The case of Euripides’ ‘Medea’ (a play I have read and seen in different versions many times). This blog focuses on the version (‘after Euripides’ in the author’s term) written in 2000 by Liz Lochhead which will be seen by us for the first time in Edinburgh performed by the National Theatre of Scotland at the 2022 Edinburgh International Festival on Saturday 20th August. The text is available as Liz Lochhead (after Euripides) [2000] Medea
Why plays must end as they will: ‘the Gods look down / expect the unexpected … end of story. Black. / End’.[1] Reflecting on the reading of plays before you see them! The case of Euripides’ Medea (a play I have read and seen in different versions many times). This blog focuses on the version … More Why plays must end as they will: ‘the Gods look down / expect the unexpected … end of story. Black. / End’. Reflecting on the reading of plays before you see them! The case of Euripides’ ‘Medea’ (a play I have read and seen in different versions many times). This blog focuses on the version (‘after Euripides’ in the author’s term) written in 2000 by Liz Lochhead which will be seen by us for the first time in Edinburgh performed by the National Theatre of Scotland at the 2022 Edinburgh International Festival on Saturday 20th August. The text is available as Liz Lochhead (after Euripides) [2000] Medea
![Why plays must end as they will: ‘the Gods look down / expect the unexpected … end of story. Black. / End’. Reflecting on the reading of plays before you see them! The case of Euripides’ ‘Medea’ (a play I have read and seen in different versions many times). This blog focuses on the version (‘after Euripides’ in the author’s term) written in 2000 by Liz Lochhead which will be seen by us for the first time in Edinburgh performed by the National Theatre of Scotland at the 2022 Edinburgh International Festival on Saturday 20th August. The text is available as Liz Lochhead (after Euripides) [2000] Medea](https://i0.wp.com/livesteven.com/wp-content/uploads/2022/04/image-49.png?resize=365%2C365&ssl=1)
![In 2018 in an introduction to the ‘fraught European history of polychromy’, Luke Syson identifies within that history a ‘long condemnation of not just the application of colored (sic.) paints to the surface of carved or modeled (sic.) statuary – to use the strict definition of “polychrome” – but also those sculptures that use colored media to imitate flesh and skin’.[1] This blog reflects on the examples of polychrome sculptures currently in the Spanish Gallery in Bishop Auckland: from Reflections and Discussions in my free time on some of the Works of Art, as part of a personal learning project related to the Golden Age of Spanish Painting (No.6).](https://i0.wp.com/livesteven.com/wp-content/uploads/2022/04/image-25.png?resize=365%2C365&ssl=1)






![‘It occurred to me I might be dead and I think it’s possible that I was, that I’d crossed the line or was crossing it, was in some kind of limbo, where the brain is busy trying to make sense of what it doesn’t understand at all, trying to see itself, what’s wrong, then doing what it always does, putting together a story of some kind, however unlikely’.’[1] This blog reflects on Andrew Miller’s (2022) ‘The Slowworm’s Song’](https://i0.wp.com/livesteven.com/wp-content/uploads/2022/03/image-65.png?resize=365%2C365&ssl=1)
![‘ I’d only say someone was gay if I feel they’re comfortable with who they are. The sadness is I don’t think he [Charles Causley] was ever comfortable with who he was’. This blog reflects on a brilliantly intelligent novel on, it argues, the definition of ‘being gay’: Patrick Gale’s ‘Mother’s Boy’ (2022)](https://i0.wp.com/livesteven.com/wp-content/uploads/2022/03/image-60.png?resize=365%2C365&ssl=1)

