We don’t see the sweat in Sweat. It dries grimily on the skin, sinks into workclothes, or is sluiced off at home. In Lynn Nottage’s Pulitzer-winning drama, set in America’s rusting rust belt, sweat is the index of manual labour at the steelworks, effort and vigilance distilled to salty droplets. On your feet all day, straining back and bunions – yet aircon is reserved for management, who can sit … [Read more...]
David Jays on theatre and dance
An ArtsJournal Blog