This is a new sensation: To be bored of oneself and still want to get to the other side of that. Without overexaggerating, solo work is painful. Still, today, in a day of rest, I found myself aching to get back in the space. The residency or archealogical dig has me mouth wetted for more bones to spit on, dust off, and more ruins to claim. Ruins of the internal, extrememly heavy mummified beasts that guard the psyche, ruins of the psyche itself...
Partly serious/partly in jest, what could be more profound than running in a circle for hours to determine the necessity of simplicity in "dance?" Don't answer that (standing). Now if only i could take those hours of running and condense the experience into just three jogs in a circle, and give it a similar profundity, then hopefully a witness will see the work done for that very informed moment. Just one witness is enough. We are so accustomed to taking things for face value.
Beyond expectations of performer and audience, I'm happily employing the importance of teeth, reproductive organs, horses, children, native americans, Karen Finley, and a certain Monarch to assist me. My very own research team to dig with (In truth, this is not really a solo work). The images have made themselves known, the songs to accompany my reproductive organs will rise in this night, and my heart's hands are ready to weave. and rest. and repeat in infinite.
(photo: Luke Allen)
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