In the beginning he is not a total shit he is The Shit and everyone loves him. Including me. Especially me. But that’s not first, that’s second, I’m sorry I’m getting confused, I should start earlier…
Rossetti wants you to know why he’s agreed to be here this evening but this is Lizzie’s night and she doesn’t think it matters.
Famous as a model and muse for the Pre-Raphaelite painters, but an artist and poet in her own right, Lizzie Siddal led a ‘tragic life’.
She’s done being tragic.
A cabaret about love, art and legacy. Who really suffers for our great art?