11.15.16 "that place" what is this move? balancé swirl / spoke hands guide / gesture corner / drawing figure tossing turning overhead in dust ----- Alexis and I met on a rainy day. She is the only person I have taught the "grid walk" to - a sequence of movements originally built in collaboration with Oksana Kuzma and Kendra Portier. The phrase moves in square, guided my gestures in the arms, weilding space and bending torso.
10.27.16 fall head over pelvis / to ground feet / impossible surfaces wet / like dust ----- Simon is the first person I met with for remember this. We started with banking weight - move through space, head in line with pelvis, falling outwards. Moving into "falling adagio," we mirror each other through slow motion actions of falling.
Caroline comes to the space after Hadley. Beginning image, covered in dust and shaking it off our bodies into the space. We layer in arms as vectors of light that cut through imagined dust. Into "palms can't toch the floor" practice Caroline recalls the shape of tusks - protruding, elongated, continuously growing.
the research of me revisiting my thesis work descend sky, digesting into solo form now with the eventual growth of a group work. I'm asking questions like...
What does it take to re-set a work? :aka: What do I hold onto? :aka: What do I let go of?
For most of November and December I will be asking these questions in a studio through dance and photography practices with
lea fulton marion spencer hadley smith caroline eskew alexis convento sara gurevich simon thomas-train marjorie gross tatyana tenenbaum emma judkins raha benham stephanie acosta laura bartczak emma lutz-higgins angie pittman zoe rabinowitz +++
The process of packing is procrastination at it's best, a succession of miniature refusals to: undo take apart re-organize make bare A willingness to stay with "things" longer, to be thorough and fair to the time that has worn them into place.
Time to wash this stone. Time to wear this dress.
Some of these things (most of these things) are photographs and magazine pages, the kind of images that, no matter when I printed them off or tore them out, are always already far from the moment at hand.
And so in the spirit of procrastination, I placed them together for scanning.
The image is of me in the back seat of the Camry. It’s raining and everything is wet. Green is dark green brown is black. Channels of water merge and fly off the window. Directly out is blurr – fixed horizons move quickly past. Looking too long makes me sick and I look up, to trees that are constant. This is how I lay down, looking up at the trees.
It must have been the coast because I was looking up at bluffs opened by landslides. I remember deciding to remember everything about this moment, the color of the sky, the rain, the bluffs, feeling darkness. I remember feeling safe, folded into the back seat, legs crossed and tucked against the door, pretend sleep. I would remember this and measure time by how far I got away from this moment. “Remember this so you know how to get back.”