Who's Looking at Who(m)?: Re-viewing Medusa

Is it Medusa's image or her gaze which has caused all the trouble, and earned her such a bad rep? What or who, exactly, is turned to stone by Medusa? Is it those who dare to look at her, or those at whom she looks? What is it about Medusa which so frightens mortals with a need to look around, and which offers to those making theatre today such a strong metaphor for the transformative power of women? And what is it about the languages of performance which allows us to transcend some of the rules of grammar and syntax, while remaining ambiguously framed by our own words, voices, ways of communicating and creating? Where, if anywhere, can we draw any lines or boundaries between performance and communication, text and subtext, sexual desire and sexual expression, longing and imagining, movement and the thought of movement, looking, seeing, being seen, and being seen to be seen ... so that we may choose to present ourselves in deliberately provocative ways?