The new theatrical space at fortyfivedownstairs – which is even further downstairs than the old space used to be – is pregnant with ambiguity. It has been renovated, and its floorboards still have that mildly intoxicating smell of varnish to prove it, but its walls remain patchy with the forgotten history of the building, which evokes itself silently but definitely, like the layers of an oil painting. It is cavernous, with high ceilings and an open plan layout, but conducive to intimacy (and claustrophobia). It is a space of fiction and performance, which unfold across it, yet also part of the wider world, which we can see and hear thrashing around unabated outside in the rapidly fading twilight. In short, it is a space that is open to interpretation.
Matthew Clayfield
Matthew Clayfield is a journalist, critic and screenwriter.
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