ILLYRIAL is a tiny world of seashells deep under the ocean. Some say it does not exist. Some say that it was made from a wish, others from the ashes of drowned books. It is a humble, glittering array of shells that are strewn around the grassy seaweeds and has no defined borders. To some it looks a bit like a trick of the light; something impossibly tiny that is so large once you are actually there; bustling, cosmopolitan, brilliant. There are grand shell opera houses and abalone balconies where many a string ensemble or ballroom dance instructor may play upon. Even the smallest piece of seaglass or errant cowlick might actually be a crow’s nest on the nearby Clarel or a fleet of glistening swords in a dressmaker’s armory. Nearby, there is also Mer-sailles and Snideshead, reminiscent of Austenian landscapes but well under the sea, and a bit more ‘in the country’ to Illyrial’s business. 

ILLYRIAL was first recorded by traveler and scrivener West Ambrose. He was at hard work of a production on Twelfth Night when he thought of the little sea-soaked work Illyria where the hunt for the heart is the only plot of such a play. Yet, it is a fraught and tragic and undoubtedly queer work. In a place where art and love take centre stage, so much is navigated by sea-soaked longing…