As the Great Intermission winds down—permanently, we hope and pray—we reopen our indoor operations with The Gardens of Anuncia. The show tells a simple story of one life in art, and the complex forces that came together to shape it. We follow the artist Anuncia both in her old age, when she’s looking back at decades of accomplishment, and also in her childhood, when she’s looking forward to unknown adventure. The stories of young and old Anuncia wrap around each other, toggling back and forth between memory and the present, between loss and discovery, between wonder and grief. And as we watch young Anuncia grow into womanhood and old Anuncia recall her own past, we consider some very big questions: How does an artist find her voice? What shapes a life? Do we become ourselves and forge who we are sui generis, or are we the products of those who have loved us?

Anuncia’s life is shaped by the life of her country, by the tectonic shifts of history and politics, but mostly by the women who raise her. She sings of them, “Mamí, Granmama, Tía, and me,” and that’s what this musical is about: the generations of one family of extraordinary women, their struggles, their joys, and, most of all, their legacies. In every individual soul live on the souls of so many who have loved and fought and sacrificed on their behalf. At some point each of us will look back and see that we are the only one left and will remember and exalt our parents and grandparents, and their parents and grandparents, even as we move forward through our own lives.

In Gardens, older Anuncia prepares to go to New York to accept a lifetime achievement award. Life imitates art: hours before the first rehearsal of the show, we learned that Graciela Daniele will be awarded the 2020 Tony Award for Lifetime Achievement. Gardens is her story. In the interview editorial, you can read about how Grazie, as she’s known, shared her memories of Argentina and the women in her family with Michael John LaChiusa, and how he shaped them into this piece. He had great material to work with. Grazie is a legend, one of the towering figures of the last 50 years in the American theatre. She wears her stature graciously, as befits her name. And she honors us, and enchants us, by coming to the Globe to stage this musical based on her own life.

Michael John is also a giant. Nominated for five Tony Awards himself, his is a defining voice of his generation of theatre makers. Renowned for the emotionality and sweep of his music and the incisive boldness of his lyrics, Michael John’s confidence in this theatre to reopen with his newest work is a gift to us. We thank him.

Other legends are making the show. One is  the lighting designer Jules Fisher, whose breathtaking career in the American theatre goes back to the 1960s, racking up nine Tony Awards (and an additional 16 nominations!). He’s lit opera, dance, film, and concerts by nearly every major popular musical artist you can name. He lit the first Broadway production of Hair, for goodness’ sake! His longtime artistic partner Peggy Eisenhauer is another great figure of the American stage; so is costume designer Toni-Leslie James. Scenic designer Mark Wendland is renowned for his thrilling originality. Space prohibits me waxing rhapsodic about all of the eminent talents gathered behind the scenes, and I beg their forgiveness. In truth, every artist working on this show is a leading figure in American theatrical art. And the company of Gardens is a who’s who of the finest performers at work in musical theatre today. All in all, it’s a remarkable group. It’s hard to think of another regional theatre in this country that could put a team like this together.

And here’s the true thrill: almost all of these genius creators are Globe alumni, returning to San Diego once again to make their art. Grazie’s been here before. So has Michael John, and many others. That’s what we do at The Old Globe. We gather the most talented artists in the field to make beautiful and meaningful theatre for the audiences of San Diego. That we can do it after the challenging period we’ve just endured is a marvel of its own, and everyone in the Globe’s orbit should feel very proud.

I’m rather personally invested in this show, as you can tell. In the scariest moments of the pandemic, I promised Grazie that we would produce it, and I couldn’t imagine letting her down. I advocated passionately for the piece with philanthropists whose generous and beyond-the-normal support, for which I’m most thankful, makes it possible. As we conceived our path out of closure, I insisted that this musical be the North Star by which we navigate. And now it’s here, and I’m deeply, deeply moved. After 18 months of so much loss and so much darkness, The Gardens of Anuncia brings us light. It plants a flag in the ground to which we all can point with pride and say: this is what the Globe believes theatre is meant to be.

Thanks for coming. Enjoy the show.