Hillary Tufford, Daniel Cabena, Danika Lorèn and Mireille Asselin in Garden of Vanished Pleasures | Photo by Cylla von Tiedemann
Garden of Vanished Pleasures, composed by Cecilia Livingston and Donna McKevitt, is an opera based on the writings of queer artist and activist Derek Jarman. It fuses segments of his poetry and journals and blends them with text by Livingston, Janey Lew, Walter de la Mare and Duncan McFarlane. This Soundstreams Mainstage production, devised and directed by Tim Albery, was first conceived and presented digitally back during the 2021-22 season, when in-person events were hampered by pandemic restrictions. This on-stage version retains many of the multi-media elements.
Not knowing much about Jarmen’s work or life, this wouldn’t serve to enlighten you about any verifiable specifics; it is more of a conceptual journey through his concerns and offering a holistic sense of him—abstracted yet with a persuasive emotional and cerebral trajectory. In this production, it feels as if the performers, a living conduit for his voice, are adrift in vast sea of conjured imagery—a haunting, sadly whimsical array. Michelle Tracey’s set is an expanse of grey, spotted fabric that gives the impression of a massive artist’s drop sheet, spread across the stage and up the back wall. Cameron Davis’ projections illuminate this textured landscape with depictions that range from glistening water, lighthouses and flickering star-scapes to confrontational close-ups of predatory snakes, violent unrest and social protest. Siobhán Sleath’s stark lighting design augments this grey-scale phantasmagoria.
With long hair and flowing white dress, Daniel Cabena (counter-tenor), a manifestation of Jarmen, exists here as a decidedly feminine, spectral presence. Grey stones and white, wrought iron furniture contribute to this eerie atmosphere—the bed especially seems symbolic of rest, sex and death. The other performers—Mireille Asselin (soprano), Danika Lorèn (soprano) and Hillary Tufford (mezzo-soprano)—clad in darker tones seem like grounded, earthly human tethers. Musicians Hyejin Kwon (piano), Brenna Hardy-Kavanagh (viola) and Amahl Arulanandam (cello) perform in the fringes of the stage, never interacting directly, but their presence feels nonetheless significant.
Livingston and McKevitt’s compositions are sombre and meditative, fully attuned to the yearning in the fraught words. The spectres of homophobia, racism and AIDS drift throughout the work. There are moments of humour too, though they are few and fleeting. Generally, we feel wrapped in wistful musings, anger creeping at the fringes. Vulgar language slips in here and there—offering exciting little jolts.
The iconic, arrow-pierced image of Saint Sebastian looms over us in one particularly striking sequence. This image has become somewhat ubiquitously emblematic of a homoerotic fascination with youthful beauty, martyrdom and violent penetration fused in a wistfully romantic gestalt; despite this, the visual remains undeniably compelling.
A photo of Jarman’s south coast cottage, Prospect Cottage—where he spent the last few years of his life before succumbing to AIDS—is the final image we land on. Having worked on a sculptural garden incorporating found elements from the surrounding landscape, it evokes a stirring blend of cool remoteness, peace and focused craft—quite extraordinary, really, and very touching.
