It’s been six years since the brilliant young British playwright Sarah Kane committed suicide, and time has done nothing to diminish her impact on the UK’s theatre scene. But as is so often the case with artists struck down in their prime, the myth has begun to overtake the reality, and her entire output is frequently viewed through the lens of her final, desperate act. “Kane’s work wasn’t just some outpouring of the soul. It was immensely crafted… There’s a danger that we see all of [her] work as one long preparation for suicide. [Instead,] we should look at the plays as the work of a writer of great anger, of sardonic humour, who saw the cruelties of the world but also the human capacity for love.”