They had come on a quiet day in the middle of the week, which meant that the Honolulu Museum of Art was nearly empty. As they walked the labyrinthine villa that made up the museum’s sprawling campus, Dania and Eleanor walked close together, in an agoraphobic bond.
“I thought there would be more art by Hawaiian artists here,” Gwen muttered, passing another room of Japanese block prints.
“Why?” Eleanor asked. “It’s not like the Art Institute has a section dedicated to Chicago artists.”
“Let the torches be lit!”
The voice boomed through the International Market Place. Eleanor and Gwen instinctively looked up from their dinner.
“We welcome you to join us now at the Queen’s Court, as we present O Nā Lani –– the Sunset Stories. Welcome, and Aloha!”
An incantation was heard, and Gwen noticed tourists seeping out of the stores, and gathering around the grassy courtyard where they sat, eating.
Dania turned the CD over, reading the track list on the back. There had been so many catchy moments in the show, and she was debating how well she wanted to remember them.
“Should I buy a CD?” she asked Eleanor, standing nearby with her nose in a season brochure.
“I mean, sure?” Eleanor barely looked up. “It’s your money.”
“It had to get dramatic, didn’t it?”
“Was it not already?” asked Eleanor, as they walked carefully across the astroturf lining the ground in the Berger Park Coach House. The space, a tight blackbox in the center of a park on the edge of Lake Michigan, felt tightly cramped when oriented in a traditional proscenium setting.
“Well, yeah, it was, but I had hope it would stay upbeat about it,” Dania mused. “It wasn’t like Batu, last year. That was dramatic the whole way through. This one felt like it suddenly decided to be a drama halfwa––”
The Hanslick Girls 