Tuesday, February 28, 2006

on Aura

Short Talk on Chromo-luminarism

Sunlight slows down Europeans. Look at all those spellbound people in Seurat. Look at Monsieur, sitting deeply. Where does a European go when he is 'lost in thought'? Seurat - they old dazzler - has painted that place. It lies on the other side of attention, long lazy boatride from here. It is a Sunday rather than a Saturday afternoon there. Seurat has made this clear by a special method. Ma Methode, he called it, rather testily, when we asked him. He caught us hurrying through the chill green shadows like adulterers. The river was opening and closing its stone lips. The river was pressing Seurat to its lips.

(Anne Carson. Short Talks. Short Talk on  Chromo-luminarism. 15)

- See: Artists

Short Talk on Aura

Drippings cause chaos. Ask Pollack before he crashed into catastrophe. Where does an artist go before facing death? Pollack moved to the rhythm of dark places. He splashed and dripped with obsessive precision marking timeless patterns that comfort the pain of loss. Sometime on the eighth day or eighth sense the swinging stopped. The colour of experience denies destiny making us all exiles. The irony is he caught us swinging from the rafters of the murdurous twentiteth century scaffolding. The mountains swallowed softly and quietly the sun. The mountain pressed Pollack to her lips.

(Raymon Montalbetti. Short Talks. Short Talk on Aura.)

:: note :: ... behind is Benjamin .. 

Monday, February 27, 2006

longing

Short Talk on Hopes

Soon I hope to live in a totally rubber house. Think how quickly I will be able to get from room to room! One good bounce and you're there. I have a friend whose hands were melted off by a fire bomb during the war. Now, once again, he will learn to pass the bread at the dinner table. Leaning is life. I hope to invite him over this evening in fact. Learning is the same colour as life. He says things like that.
(Anne Carson. Short Talks. Short Talk on Hopes. 14)

- See: Artists

Short Talk on Longing

I long to walk the bottom of the river. Think about holding your breath for days. Or gills instead of ears. I have a friend whose teeth fell out because of a rare gum disease. He was Utnapishtim, the keeper of immortality. He taught the art of vodka drinking. I long to stay sober. Wisdom needs youth. Does that mean anarchy is a rule? what else can be expected from holding your breath.
(Raymon Montalbetti. Short Talks. Short Talk on Longing.)

:: note :: ... for Oleg ...

Sunday, February 26, 2006

Imitation

Short Talk on Homo Sapiens
With small cuts Cro-Magnon man recorded the moon's phases on the handles of his tools, thinking about her as he worked. Animals. Horizon. Face in a pan of water. In every story I tell comes a point where I can see no further. i hate that point. It is why they call storytellers blind - a taunt.
(Anne Carson. Short Talks. Short Talk on Homo Sapiens. 13)

- See: Artists

Short Talk on Imitation

With short breaths the speaker recorded vowel patterns on the ocean sands dreaming about the other. Monologue. Dialogue. Echo. A singing bowl in a pail of water. In every scene there comes a point where action silences. I listen for that point. It is why Plato called actors fools - imitators.
(Raymon Montalbetti. Short Talks. Short Talk on Imitation.)

:: note :: ... learn through following forms ... see how far it goes ...

Saturday, February 25, 2006

Short

Early one morning the words were missing. Before that, words were not. Facts were, faces were. In a good story, Aristotle tells us, everything that happens is pushed by something else. One day someone noticed there were stars but no words, why? I've asked a lot of people, I think it is a good question. Three old women were bending in the fields. What use is it to question us? they said. Well it shortly became clear they knew everything there is to know about the snowy fields and the bluegreen shoots and the plant called 'audacity' that poets mistake for violets. I began to copy out everything that was said. The marks construct an instant of nature gradually, without the boredom of a story. I emphasize this. I will do anything to avoid boredom. It is the task of a lifetime. You can never know enough, never work enough, never use the infinitives and participles oddly enough, never impede the movement harshly enough, never leave the mind quickly enough.
In 53 fascicles I copied everything that was said, things vast distances apart. I read the fascicles each day at the same time, until yesterday men came and took up the fascicles. Put them in a crate. Locked it. Then together we viewed the landscape. Their instructions were clear, I am to imitate the mirror like that of water (but water is not a mirror and it is dangerous to think so). In fact I was the whole time waiting for them to leave so I could begin filling in the parts I missed. So I am left with 3 fascicles (which I hid). I have to be careful what I set down. Aristotle talks about probability and necessity, but what good is a marvel, what good is a story that does not contain poison dragons. Well you can never work enough.
(Anne Carson. Short Talks. Introduction)

- See: Artists

:: note :: ... love this form ... a talk a day to come ...

Friday, February 24, 2006

Ble Jelly




... performance of Grass Jelly & A Ble Wail ...

- See: Theater Work

Thursday, February 23, 2006

MaskWork





- See: Education

:: note :: ... the work continues ...

Monday, February 20, 2006

four characters

monkey
mindfully listening
to the double.
hyena
lost trembling
for the hunger.

eagle
center reaching
for the sky.

elder
humble servant
forgiving the kind.

- See: Education

:: note :: ... students work to create mask narrative ...

Sunday, February 19, 2006

Barbara Guest

Barbara Guest

from Biography:
A single seeming blinded object
a sentence a voice
the throat
then the rushing. Sound rushing dramatic
away from its disability
there's a note selective.

Passage without a pen
through the hurricane
whorl shell Shade

Fictions dressed like water.

(via Piere Joris | Nomadics)

- See: Artists

:: note :: ... found a whole raft of new sites surronding the passing of this poet ... Charles Bernstein ... Philly Sound ... so many primary, working writers post to the web ... watching the writers read/write ...

Saturday, February 18, 2006

It murmers

It murmers inside. It murmers. Inside is the pain of speech the pain to say. Larger still. Greater than is the pain not to say. To not say. Says nothing against the pain to speak. It festers inside. The wound, liquid, dust. Must break, must void. (Theresa Hak Kyung Cha. Dictee. p.3)

- See: Theater

:: note :: ...preparing for A Ble W ail & Grass Jelly ...

Friday, February 17, 2006

Dark Inward Road






- See: Education

:: note :: ... working over the break drama students complete film project Dark Inward Road ... ... excellent collaboration, exceptional student director & wonderful young new participants ...

Thursday, February 16, 2006

dancingness & singingness



:: note :: ... five days of workshop Dancingness, Singingness in Rhythm ends by the river ... laments from Greek Drama in the early morning on the coldest of winter days under the bluest of skies in the brightest of suns ... physical, vocal and imaginative play ... research guided by AeRan Jeong ... "being becomes human when it invents theater" (augusto boal) ... human becomes being inventing theater ... theaterness becomes beingness inventing humanness ...

- See: Theater Work

Wednesday, February 15, 2006

love is




N.V.N.

There is a sacred, secret line in loving
which attraction and even passion cannot cross,-
even if lips draw near in awful silence
and love tears at the heart.
Friendship is weak and useless here,
and years of happiness, exalted and full of fire,
because the soul is free and does not know
the slow luxuries of sensual life.
Those who try to come near it are insane
and those who reach it are shaken by grief,
So now you know exactly why
my heart beats no faster under your hand.
(Jane Kenyon's rendering from the Russian of Anna Akhmatova via Slate )

- See: Image

Tuesday, February 14, 2006

Siast Outline

Drama: Building a Language
Theater is the first human invention and also the invention which paves the way for all other inventions and discoveries.
Theater is born when the human being discovers that it can observe itself; when it discovers that, in this act of seeing, it can see itself - see itself in situ: see itself seeing. (augusto boal. Rainbow of Desire)

- See: Education

:: note :: ... playing with Boal ...

Monday, February 13, 2006

Awoke

She dreamed.
I had arrived in Italy by bus. It could hardly be called a bus rather a cart with no sides or roof. We dangerously speed around winding passes and I clung to the seat in front me holding on as planes buzzed overhead. Just get me safely to the city and all will be well.

War had broken out. Bombing could be heard throughout the Italian city. A foreigner wishing to flee the country I had nowhere to go. Rushing into the street hoards of soldiers swept me away. Fearing that soon I would be one of the dead or wounded I escaped into the nearest door to find myself inside a coffee house.

"Respite," I thought and ordered a coffee. The shop owner informed there were no more mugs and seeing my huge disappointment she turned away and promised to look once more.

At the table behind me sat a group of men talking. I approached hoping to get some information on how to leave the city. In halting Italian I asked what was happening. One of the men corrected my pronunciation. I asked again and again he corrected me. The whole conversation dissolved into him correcting me around the word "sircock". Finally totally frustrated I returned to my seat. The shopkeeper placed a tea cup in front of me. "It's all I have" she said. I didn't care I just wanted some coffee. The cup was full of tea leaves. Removing them seemed an impossible chore and I left without coffee or respite.

The streets were full of menacing soldiers. With no hope and wanting to hide I broke into the basement of a house. Quietly I ascended the wooden staircase but the creaking betrayed me. An old man, the owner of the house, caught me. In order to stay protected I was forced to sleep with him and became pregnant.

The conditions of war made it impossible to go to a hospital so I prepared a home birth. After the birth my plan was to escape. During birth the house was bombed killing us all.

She awoke.

- See: Dreams


:: note :: ... while my partner dreamed I read Foreign Romance by Suzann Kole ...

Sunday, February 12, 2006

starknelt

barren white knelt to stir the river and the finger tips numbed freezing the lost tears behind the shimmering viel
could it have been the before hand dispirited and broken reaching for dripping icicles forgetting past survival songs

look to the sky the fire of new dawn swallowing handheld hearts blowing glitter embers on sand

the stars shine these cold clear nights

- See: Poetry

Saturday, February 11, 2006

Drama: Building a Language for SIAST

The Mask: Discover story.
1. Mask Intro
The Universal Mask. The full, half & character mask.
Experiencing the mask.
Watch the imagination
2. Enter the Mask
Trust in the mask & partner.
Working with the mask.
Trust the imagination.
3. From Inside
Inner observation.
See with freshness & clarity
Feel the imagination
4. From Outside
Seeing the mask.
Connecting to another.
Building imagination.
5. Giving Voice
Voice the character mask.
Transform the action
Listening to imagination.
6. The Character
Preparing a character.
Creating a Role.
Playing with imagination.
7. Story
Narrative.
Articulating the imagination
8. Rhythm & Detail
Composing the narrative.
Shaping the imagination.
9. Communication
Sharing the narrative.
Liberating the imagination.
10. Communion
The mystery of the narrative.
Surrendering to imagination.
Dramatization: Articulate story.
1. Following the narrative.
2. Exploring, extending, expanding, and entering the narrative.
3. Elements of Theater
4. Repetition
5. The Performance
Image Theater: Release story
1. The Beginning Pose.
2. Improvisation I.
3. Poetics.
4. Emotional dynamisation.
5. Ritual.
6. Script.
7. Playing.
8. Improvisation II.
9. The Video.
10. The Audience.
11. The Closing Circle.
Theater is the first human invention and also the invention which paves the way for all other inventions and discoveries.
Theater is born when the human being discovers that it can observe itself; when it discovers that, in this act of seeing, it can see itself - see itself in situ: see itself seeing.
(augusto boal. Rainbow of Desire)

Tuesday, February 07, 2006

as the story goes

As the story goes . . .
God seeing how desperately bored everyone was on the seventh day of creation, racked her overstretched imagination to find something more to add to the completeness she had just conceived. Suddenly her inspiration burst even beyond its own limitless bounds and she saw a further aspect of reality: its possibility to imitate itself. So she invented theatre.

She called her angels together and announced this in the following terms, which are still contained in an ancient Sanskrit document. "The theatre will be the field in which people can learn to understand the sacred mysteries of the universe. And at the same time," she added with deceptive casualness, "it will be a comfort to the drunkard and to the lonely."

The angels were very excited and could hardly wait for there to be enough people on earth to put this into practice. The people responded with equal enthusiasm and rapidly there were many groups all trying to imitate reality in their different ways and yet the results were disappointing. What had sounded so amazing, so generous and so all embracing seemed to turn to dust in their hands. In particular, the actors, writers, directors, painters and musicians couldn[base ']t agree amongst themselves as to who was the most important, and so they spent much of their time quarrelling while their work satisfied them less and less.

One day they realized they were getting nowhere and they commissioned an angel to go back to God to ask for help.

God pondered for a long time. Then she took a piece of paper, scribbled on it, put it into a box and gave it to the angel, saying, "Everything is here. This is my first and last word."

The return of the angel to the theatre circles was an immense event and the whole profession crowded round him as the box was opened. He took out the paper, unfolded it. It contained one word. Some read it over his shoulder, as he announced it to the others. "The word is 'interest.'"

"Interest?" "Interest!" "Is that all?" "Is that all!"

There was a deep rumble of disappointment.

"Who does she take us for?" "It's childish." "As if we didn't know ..."

The meeting broke up angrily, the angel left under a cloud, and the word, though never referred to again, became one of the many reasons for the loss of face that God suffered in the eyes of his creatures.

However, a few thousand years later, a very young student of Sanskrit found a reference to this incident in an old text. As he also worked part time as a cleaner in a theater, he told the theater company of his discovery. This time, there was no laughter, no scorn. There was a long, grave silence. Then someone spoke.

"Interest. To interest. I must interest. I must interest another. I can't interest another unless I'm interested myself. We need a common interest."

Then another voice: "To share a common interest, we must exchange elements of interest in a way that's interesting . . ."

" . . . to both of us. . ." "To all of us . . ." "In the right rhythm." "Rhythm?" "Yes, like making love. If one's too fast and one's too slow, it's not interesting . . ."

Then they began to discuss, seriously and very respectfully, what is interesting? Or rather, as one of them put it, what is really interesting?

And here they disagreed. For some, the divine message was clear - "interest" meant only those aspects of living that were directly related to the essential questions of being and becoming, of God and the divine laws. For some, interest is the common interest of all men to understand more clearly what is just and unjust for mankind. For others, the very ordinariness of the word "interest" was a clear signal from the divine not to waste a moment on profundity and solemnity but just get on with it and entertain.

At this point the student of Sanskrit quoted to them the full text about why God created theater. "It has to be all those things at the same time," he said. "And in an interesting way," added another. After which, the silence was profound.

They then began to discuss the other side of the coin, the appeal of the "uninteresting," and the strange motivations, social and psychological, that make so many people in the theater applaud so often and so vigorously what actually is of no interest to them whatsoever. "If only we could really understand this word . . ." said one.

"With this word," said another in a hushed tone, "we could go very far . . ."

(Entering Another World from Shifting Point. Peter Brook. p. 241)

- See: Story

:: note :: ... read this last year for a workshop and will repeat it tomorrow ... a story seems to have life on it's own after the third reading ...

Friday, February 03, 2006

flow(er)

the crystal clear ice
carries blue beads away
petals in the snow
incense fills an empty room
heavy and torn to pieces the mind muses
following curling trails of smokeflow
a flower in your hair

- See: Poetry

:: note :: . . . time passes . . .