“To this hour the image of Carmilla returns to memory with ambiguous alternations—sometimes the playful, languid, beautiful girl; sometimes the writhing fiend I saw in the ruined church; and often from a reverie I have started, fancying I heard the light step of Carmilla at the drawing room door.”

– Joseph Sheridan Le Fanu, Carmilla

Joseph Sheridan Le Fanu’s 1872 novel Carmilla–one of the earliest works of vampire fiction–was a story I had planned to take to the stage in the form of a straightforward adaptation.

However, in my exploration of Sheridan Le Fanu’s novel, I found myself reminiscing about my childhood days spent romping around in the Southern California desert valley in the 110º degree heat. I remember distinctly the feeling of the harshness of the climate around me and how I existed within it. There was fear, certainly. Campers knew not to wander from the group, otherwise they might encounter something wild and hungry and vicious. But beneath that there was also excitement. That giddy energy of being always ever so slightly poised on the edge of something thrilling. Thrilling and scary. But always beautiful, above everything else. In its purple mountains and dusty valleys the American Southwest has captured and will keep my heart for the rest of my days. But the region is more complex than just its natural makeup. Because The West exists both as a place as well as a cultural myth–a colonial fantasy of an unfamiliar land where dreams can be made reality by those daring enough to conquer it.

These memories, sparked by Sheridan Le Fanu’s text, left me considering a slew of questions.

What does it mean to be wild? Is wildness inherent to nature or place or is it created by perception? What does it mean to be monstrous? What does it mean to see and be seen? Love and be loved? How is a story influenced by time and the people who share it? What is a dream? Are they real?

The way I had connected to Carmilla expanded beyond the bounds of the story printed in 1872, and I wanted to explore this connection more within a new body of work. Not quite an adaptation–but more of an inspiration. And there I found Laura, The Vampire, and The West.

To Hahamongna Park. To the coyotes on my block. To ladies and daughters and grown women.

And to The West and its stories. New and old. Dead and alive.

– Amanda Brady