The first three days were hard work, Glushkov said, “then we had fun.”
They began developing a story line, said Tatiana Williams, a 24-year-old student from San Luis Obispo, Calif., when they sat down after a difficult warm-up and began telling stories of their own breakups.
“They were hard stories,” said Williams, who said her traditionally Russian first name actually came by way of Africa.
“We all shared and opened our hearts,” said Rebelo.
“They told true stories,” said 22-year-old Alexandra Kustin of Atlanta, “and allowed them to be retold. That’s bravery.”
The students started to get to know one another in Los Angeles, but it was their arrival in Moscow that got the CalArts students deeply engaged. “Now they’re telling me they want to come back and spend a year in Moscow,” Jokovic said. “That’s why I keep telling them, ‘You have to travel.’ ”
She hopes to bring the groups together for performances in California, at the CalArts Center for New Performance, perhaps, and on to New York, Paris, Belgrade. They could become a troupe, young people unencumbered by the baggage of their elders (“I hope they will not grow old too fast,” she said), making a difference in the world, and Jokovic cannot bear to think of it stopping with Tuesday’s performance.
“Art is there to transcend conflict,” she said. “Art can transform. I would like to see this go all over the world.”
It was 10:30, and dusk was settling over the pastel buildings of old Moscow, red church towers wearing gold domes, the skyscrapers of the modern city rising in the distance. Their teachers were sending the students back to the dorms, where they would rise early for a visit to a museum before putting on another performance.
“Love,” Kamenkovich proclaimed. “Love,” he boomed, voice fervent, toasting the actors one last time.
“I propose to drink to love because love is the one thing that never ends.”