To all theatre lovers, I recently recalled laying in my bed as a child, and the lights would be turned off, filling the room with frightning life. Shadows moved, strange squeaks were heard, mute footsteps walked in the corridor behind door and at the entrance stood a witch.

One day, trying to dispell my fears, my father took me on a trip through the darkness. He turned off the lights and walked me around the house, hugging my shoulding and relieving my panic. Sometimes I feel like this is the essence of theatre. He who precedes to enter the dark hall before a show, sit in front of a usually empty stage, with few lights dispersing shards of illumination between the shadows, can perhaps sense the deep desire of the theatre man: to enter the darkness, walk about it like a child shivering with excitment and fear and then to return to the light, armed with a peace of darkness.

Theatre that is worthy of its name, should always have a dark side, mysterious, un-decyphered. Not everything should be said, not everything should be understood. This darkness in which we walk, has in it the appeal of the unknown and the fear of it, and the journey we take in it is always sponsored by some intangible hug which braces our spirits and helps us to move on. That is the great need of the theatre man for an audience. To be accompanied on his journies in the dark and to be held. And maybe that is also the experience of those who enter the hall in the dark, in front of an empty stage, and agree to have a new thrill lit inside when they journey with the actors inside an unknown mental structure, like someone returning to their childhood, hugging a child in the dark. I believe this is also what makes the Khan Theatre unique, the audience already acquainted with the actors, the actors knowing their audience, the hug is already familiar and the fear less frighting. We are gratefull for having you return to accompany us on our journies, without you we wouldn't dare.

Michael Gurevitch
Artistic Director