If you went through any door, followed any key out of your car, you missed something . . .
After a flurry of activity, a woman suddenly finds herself at the wedding. . . alone. Except, is she alone? She contemplates the ever present blue door. Who is behind it? Will they love me if I open it? Is it worth the risk? Startled by the bells of the estate, her attention shifts to the banquet table and its centerpiece-- the wedding cake.The perfect, untouched wedding cake. She enters into a back and forth dance of shoulds and shouldn'ts until finally giving in and tasting. Frightened by what she’s done, she runs away from car to car before finally giving in and stalking back to the banquet table. She climbs on top and takes the cake in her hands. No more dainty bites, no more self-control--it’s time to eat.
Iron Key / Green Light
You are welcomed out of your car to view “the collection,” pieces of jewelry with centuries of history. Rounding a corner, a bathtub and chandelier come into view, with two figures seated facing each other, weighed down by jewelry. The two figures struggle to breathe and to touch each other’s hands, their fingers never meeting. Each figure speaks a poem, one line after another. They slowly turn and unfurl their hands, wordlessly requesting the jewels you carry. When you approach an outstretched hand, a figure may request that you instead give it to the other seated figure, whom they cannot reach.
I opened the door I opened the door
And there was nothing inside and there were women inside
Just an empty room a clotted floor
And a single book not a single heartbeat
I looked at the book I turned a circle
And wanted to open it and knew he’d know
But I suddenly knew I traced my footsteps
That some things are private back over the floor
So I quietly turned I crept to the door
And I left no trace and I suddenly knew
I didn't buy you a gift I didn’t buy you a gift
So I give you this this is what you wanted
Your right to be unknown an excuse to be yourself
So I locked the door So I knelt down
And left and waited
And it didn’t matter either way And it didn’t matter either way
He didn’t know what he gave us but look at what he gave us
I can withstand sharp diamonds I can breathe beneath rubies
I can dream above deep opals I can sleep through cold metal
As long as I’m with you As long as I’m with you
Brass Key / Yellow Light
A figure invites you to visit one of the best rooms in the castle: the hall of mirrors. They pause at one set of hanging mirrors, then another, contemplating their reflection and beauty… or lack thereof. They sit at a vanity, across from another figure, both staring into their reflections. The original figure requests the makeup the audience has brought, and as the figure frantically applies it, the figure in the mirror mimics the actions on a larger, more gruesome scale. Gradually, the figure in the mirror takes control, prompting the original figure’s movements to bring them to the side of the mirror, where both stand and face each other. An embrace. A switch. The figure formerly in the mirror, now free, walks you back to where you began. As they walk, they repeat the original figure's stops and lines in reverse-order. The original figure looks on from behind the mirror as you leave.
Blood Key / Red Light
A friendly, drunk party guest invites you to discover the “other bar.” Noticing your empty goblets, the guest promises to return with more wine. As you wait, a figure in a white dress slowly approaches a bowl of fruit. The figure finally tastes the fruit, which intoxicates and hypnotizes the figure, who slowly sheds the white dress to reveal a black dress underneath. They eat more and more, moving with sexual intoxication, smearing the fruit juice over their face, mouth, and hands. Yet, what at once seems graceful turns into gorging, as the figure loses control and succumbs to the sweetness of the fruit. They stand atop a raised surface, beginning crouched, pleading a soundless monologue to an invisible person. As they stand taller and taller, their soundless pleading turns to understanding, anger, accusation. They stand, stained face staring, hands outstretched at their sides. A clinking of wine bottles indicates the party guest has returned with the wine bottles, but drank all of the wine. They had forgotten you.
Skeleton Key / White Light
Someone tells you they have exclusive access to a favorite corridor in the castle, and asks you to please bring your keys. They lead you down a path with their own ring of keys, stopping at various hanging door knobs to unlock an artifact behind. First, a violin case, lovingly described as belonging to the groom, a virtuoso. When opened, chains are revealed, to no noticeable reaction. The next doorknob reveals a locker of ladies’ dainties, red lace punctuating the white satin. These belong to many women, he says. The next doorknob yields a glass platter, whose topper (when removed) reveals ashes—“we all know whose they are.” Finally, at the end of that pathway, a closed trunk is opened, and a pile of shiny keys that look exactly like those you carry brims to the top. He requests your keys to open the final door, a door he’s never opened, a door he longs to spend just one night inside, to mean as much to “him” as the other women did. None of your keys work, either. The trunk is closed again.