The great playwright, poet, director, screenwriter and humanitarian, Harold Pinter, passed away yesterday.
His early plays and late poetry had a profound influence on my development as an artist. Pinter was one of the many patrons of the November 1, 2005 London performance of my cantata, The Skies Are Weeping. He was supposed to introduce the work at its premiere, but was in the hospital, fighting cancer.
I was at least able to speak to him over the phone, while in London then. His voice was barely audible, as his throat was very inflamed at the time. A month later, he delivered this lecture, as he accepted the Nobel Prize in literature:
2 comments:
Thanks for this piece. You caused me to look Harold Pinter up, to act on reading him, and to engage The Skies Are Weeping. Thank you.
PB,
You're very welcome!
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