Production
ONE DEATH IN SEVEN DOORWAYS is currently in the composing and workshopping phase.
2 ACTS
12 SCENES
Each scene has a different actor/s playing Sam, while one singer plays Suzy throughout the piece. Each character is scored by a solo instrument. Each scene has a single unique set piece and prop. Each scene has a projection backdrop of its doorway.
7 ACTORS
Playing each Sam
A variety of gender, race, age, and appearance
“Inside each of us is all of us”
1 SINGER
as Suzy
Mezzo Soprano
Suzy speaks for the first scene while she is alive. Once she is dead, she only sings.
Suzy sings arioso in her scenes with Sam, they have one duet, and she has three arias all her own.
8 SOLO MUSICIANS
Expressing the inner dialogue and emotions of each Sam and Suzy. On stage with each character.
OVERTURE
The solo musicians set the stage as an ensemble. Introducing us to the emotions we are yet to discover.
ENSEMBLES, TRIOS, QUARTETS
As the Sam's interact, this generates chamber-size ensembles of instruments. Two full ensembles are experienced in the overture, and penultimate scene.
ARIAS
Suzy treats us to beautifully sung arias discovering a new phase of her existence, while trying to communicate and heal with Sam.
80s POWER DUET
Suzy with electric guitar and Sam with synthesizer
A MUSICAL ENSEMBLE
The penultimate scene is an ensemble of spoken text, sung lines, with all Sam's, Suzy, and all musicians.
ONE FINAL SCENE
Sam at Suzy's funeral.
Music + Text
Sam—Soprano Saxophone
Sam 1—Double Bass
Sam 2—Metal Percussion
Sam 3—Bassoon
Sam 4—Recorder
Sam 5—Baroque Violin
Sam 6—Synthesizer
Suzy, Mezzo Soprano—Electric Guitar
Musically, One Death in Seven Doorways sits in the genre of New Music/21st Century Classical. The sound is acoustic and organic—a solo, resonant, acoustic approach that speaks directly to the audience’s bodies, rather than merely filling the space. Not functioning as narration, punctuation, or background, but as an inner voice of each character—each instrument communicates unspoken feelings that lies underneath the words. When more than one instrument is on stage, they dialogue with each other, at times creating duets, trios, and quartets of our inner dialogue with ourselves.
The language of One Death in Seven Doorways is a story-telling confessional. Rich with inner-searching monologues, Sam discovers that the only person he can trust with his intimate journey is—the audience. As Suzy tries to reach Sam through song we experience the tension and confusion of how to stay connected to those who have died. As the Sams interact with each other we hear our own inner conflicted and competing (sometimes colluding) voices come to life.
How It Came to Be
"Rest" is the second piece from my 2022 spoken-word music collection, "The Flower in the Mirror was Dead." This is where I met Sam and his friend Suzy. I connected with Sam and realized he had a lot more to say. I started a draft of a new collection of essays called, "Sam's Stories."
Then
My dear friend, high school chemistry partner, and 10th grade prom date, died—suddenly, of a rare heart condition that was never supposed to give him any trouble. He had just turned 49. Nothing was out of the ordinary. He rode his bike to work as an environmental educator for at-risk-kids. He taught them about monarch butterflies. The next morning he woke up, made a pot of coffee, had a heart attack, and died.
I spoke to him three weeks before his death. The last words I said to him, were not words we said with any regularity but felt crucial to say right then. "I love you." A month later, I got a phone call from Amanda Huron, the drummer who played on "Rest." She and I have known each other since third grade. She was our friend's 11th grade prom date, the year after he and I shared that same awkward teenage ritual. Her voice was on the phone to tell me he had died.
Then
When I came back to Sam, and asked him what we would be writing about. He told me that his friend had also died.
Then
One Death in Seven Doorways began.
What is a Doorway?
A doorway is any opportunity we have to remember, reflect, connect with, or reject someone who has died. It could be a memory fleeting across our minds, a sound that reminds us of their voice, a smell, a dream, a song, or that thing in the store that you suddenly want to buy for them and then you remember that they are dead. These are all chances we have to make that connection, or to say “not now, it’s too much.” It is the dead reaching out to us. It is one of the ways they communicate.
A doorway is also those memories that become instantly crystalized, frozen in time the moment someone we love dies. They are the things we want to hold onto forever and repeatedly purposefully remember—in our attempt to make sure we never forget. The last conversation, the prom date, the hay ride, the three hour phone call, that playful argument, that kiss you aren’t sure was intentional and can never ask them about ever again. The time you hit them, yelled at them, ignored them for a week, or just forgot to call for too long and missed your chance. These are the doorways. They are what we are left with when someone dies.