I realized quickly that I needed to project benign confidence and sanity but everyone would read it as crazy anyway. I can group the people into most, some and a few. Most people gave me the laugh. The laugh says "you are crazy but i am polite so instead of saying 'get the fuck away from me', I'll just laugh. HaHaha.". Most people gave me this laugh as they tried to hurry away. Caught in their own polite no, they were trying to hurry UP a steep hill away from the person who was trying to help them up.
Some people said no, no thanks as they folded their eyebrows together. These people looked up the hill and at the sidewalk chalk and then unfolded their eyebrows slightly. These, some people, looked at me again and said "huh"? This process of rejection, folding, unfolding and questioning only took a few seconds, longer if they walked away and came back. When their eyebrows were back to normal, they would repeat the "huh?". I'd repeat my offer. They would say ok. I loved lifting these people because they had changed their minds. They took a few seconds to do decide to do something weirder than just crossing the street. They were enthusiastic about it which was very nice especially after getting the laugh several times in a row.
A few people said yes right away. I don't know why. I could not look at anyone and ascertain that they would agree without question. I can't say for sure which category I would be in but I would likely not have been in a few.
I don't remember how many people I pushed up the hill at Virginia Ave in the Pike Place Market. The rush for me was asking people with some thrill in the first push and the awkward goodbye. It has analogies in blind dates for sure. Somehow the rush of asking, rejection, or acceptance erased most of the actual lifts from my mind. I have three clear memories though.
1. One lift was a man who was part of a large family all standing at the bottom of the hill. They were some people. After the initial pause and about a three words of discussion, I ended pushing a man and his daughter (who rode in a the stroller) up the hill. I found that they were visiting from Vancouver, BC, were hoping to eat at the Cheesecake Factory and that I was so winded by the time we got to the top, I couldn't talk them out of going to the Cheesecake Factory. Instead I pretended to breath normally, thanked them and said goodbye. I also realized a couple of things that would continue to happen with every lift. First was that everything around me ceased to exist while I was pushing a person up the hill. And Second, no one really gave me their weight until half way up the hill. I imagine that this was when they got tired but I would like to believe that this is when they realized I am extremely strong but you can't tell because of my coat.
2. A young woman who had cool glasses and manicured fingernails, tipped in black polish, came by toward the end of our time. She accepted a lift easily falling into a few category. She was visiting from Northern California with her mother who was getting a lift from one of the other Lifters. This woman was not comfortable getting pushed. She wanted me to walk beside her instead. I was first inclined to keep pushing and show her that she would LOVE IT! But I did move from behind her to beside her and we had a nice chat about their visit. It was nice, I would have been a creep to insist on pushing.
3. I think my favorite guy was the one who really let me push him up the hill. We were opposite in every way. Going up, we mostly talked about our difference in size. Though over double my weight, it didn't deter him from leaning WAY into me from the beginning. Half way up, he lit a cigarette. Near the top he said he felt like he was walking on flat ground. He said that right after he leaned back a little further, spread his arms and yelled "I'M KING OF THE WORLD!". I was the Titanic, you know, before it sank when it was strong and mighty and full of breath. He was very gracious at the top. I was very happy to have had the privilege to give him a lift.
Saturday, September 29, 2007
September 29th Lift, love B
Started out cold, weary and disenchanted. Just a few minutes standing there with Juliet, I was inspired all over again. I tuned in to her easy and open nature, redeveloping my own in time. Some favorite moments of the day.
1. "You know, I thought you were crazy down at the bottom, but this is really great!"
2. "Girl, I push YOU up the hill."
This is getting good.
1. "You know, I thought you were crazy down at the bottom, but this is really great!"
2. "Girl, I push YOU up the hill."
This is getting good.
Thursday, September 27, 2007
Aaron's thoughts from the 27th
I shifted my agenda today. Broadened it to focus on engaging unapolagetically with the people and geography of the hill. I feel myself coming to know this little slice of the market, its pimps, business men, tourists, druggies, flower carriers, workers taking a smoke break, drinkers up at the Virginia Inn. Each group has their own energy and potential, but I feel too clumsy to fully milk those potentials. As I get to know the space better I come to see and feel its ebb and flow. It moves in waves of excitement and activity, one lift after the next for a buzzing cycle, and then dead and grey and seemingly over for good until the next rush of circumstance brings a sense of life to the place. It was the same way driving a cab. Some combination of my timing, and my shifting confidence and perception created an image of the city breathing in and out, filling up with energy and emptying out of it in bursts of varying length. When I think about it, improvisational dance is often the same; bursts of intensity and spans of reflection or even boredom as we follow our naural patterns of being.
Back to the lift I think of the highlights.
An awkward time sitting next to an old man on the driftwood bench half way up, unsure how to tap into the rich well of his experience. He shuffled off.
Dancing after pushing the exuberant large man up at a run. Translating the movement of his flesh across his back into luscious gyrations as I leaped and skittered my way back down, slashing my right arm with a feather I had found in its cuff.
Looking up the hill to see KT dancing, sad and poignant to my eyes, conveying a shared experience of struggle and half found release.
Helping a man with his cart even though at first he doesn't want help, I notice a scrawled sentence tucked into the chaos. It reads "He's at his limit." It touches me poignantly as coincidence often will do. An openness to the universe might be another way to call it, but how can I can convince people that it is worthwhile to have such an openess.
Watching what I assume to be a pimp and a prostitute arguing. He gets real agressive when Adam the photographer joins me, but we don't back down. They move off just before some bike cops arrive. Adam says he gets stuff like that all the time because of his big camera
Pushing the girl who gave me her full weight up at the end. I could have stepped back and lifted her into the air. I had her stop and she continued to give me her weight as she looked up at the sky. I must admit, such trust is sexy.
The exuberant large man and his entourage appearing time and again, almost like a reoccuring theme in a drug trip, each occurence more surreal than the last.
I struggle to put these moments into a larger framework and feel like we are making a mark. At the same time I hold on to these as moments of gratification withing a very difficult project. Without the joy and craft of movement to buttress my doubts, the project seems naked and open to question. When people ask why we are doing this I wish they would stop and really discuss whether it is worth doing because I am not sure, but they move on pretty quickly and it is all I can do to get out a line about openness to strangers or trying to shift the way you experience going up a hill. Carrying on seems like the most important thing. Its what seperates a momentary idea from its experienced execution, even though the reality never turns out like you expected.
heres to carrying on
aaron
Back to the lift I think of the highlights.
An awkward time sitting next to an old man on the driftwood bench half way up, unsure how to tap into the rich well of his experience. He shuffled off.
Dancing after pushing the exuberant large man up at a run. Translating the movement of his flesh across his back into luscious gyrations as I leaped and skittered my way back down, slashing my right arm with a feather I had found in its cuff.
Looking up the hill to see KT dancing, sad and poignant to my eyes, conveying a shared experience of struggle and half found release.
Helping a man with his cart even though at first he doesn't want help, I notice a scrawled sentence tucked into the chaos. It reads "He's at his limit." It touches me poignantly as coincidence often will do. An openness to the universe might be another way to call it, but how can I can convince people that it is worthwhile to have such an openess.
Watching what I assume to be a pimp and a prostitute arguing. He gets real agressive when Adam the photographer joins me, but we don't back down. They move off just before some bike cops arrive. Adam says he gets stuff like that all the time because of his big camera
Pushing the girl who gave me her full weight up at the end. I could have stepped back and lifted her into the air. I had her stop and she continued to give me her weight as she looked up at the sky. I must admit, such trust is sexy.
The exuberant large man and his entourage appearing time and again, almost like a reoccuring theme in a drug trip, each occurence more surreal than the last.
I struggle to put these moments into a larger framework and feel like we are making a mark. At the same time I hold on to these as moments of gratification withing a very difficult project. Without the joy and craft of movement to buttress my doubts, the project seems naked and open to question. When people ask why we are doing this I wish they would stop and really discuss whether it is worth doing because I am not sure, but they move on pretty quickly and it is all I can do to get out a line about openness to strangers or trying to shift the way you experience going up a hill. Carrying on seems like the most important thing. Its what seperates a momentary idea from its experienced execution, even though the reality never turns out like you expected.
heres to carrying on
aaron
Ricki's first Lift.
My first lift was a reverse lift. I asked this guy, who seemed a little more open than he was willing to admit, avoiding eye contact after our initial connection, and he said no, he can manage on his own. People don’t want to look needy or helpless in front of strangers! That would be vulnerable… So I asked him to push me up the hill. He accepted and began the lift without even breaking pace. Our conversation was sweet. He accepted a button at the top. He continued on his journey.
There’s so much “I think we’ll manage,” “I think we’re fine,” “I can make it on my own…” The thing about it is, that’s just not the point.
Here’s a one in 1000. I asked a young couple if they wanted a lift. Her face LIT UP. Just like that. Yes. Aaron pushed her and I escorted her gentleman friend, and they leaned right back: fearless, immediate, totally game.
How do I, a stranger on the street, get you to let your guard down? (Wow, that sentence still sounds aggressive. You should have seen my first draft. No wonder people are protective.) How do I create a little tiny universe around myself where you can trust that there’s no strings attached? We’ve taught each other to say no so well, how do we invite each other to say yes?
If I encountered The Lift, would I be a yes or a no? If I were alone, I bet I’d be a no. But if I was with another person -- really probably anyone, my girlfriend, the door guy from work, my mother, anyone – I would be a yes. Because I would want that person I was with to think I’m a yes, even though secretly I’m a no.
As I remember the people I encountered, I think, “I loved that guy who gave me a lift!” And that girl whos face lit up, I loved her! And I loved that woman who said no, so politely, her subtext blaring. (I’m going to be really really nice to you even though I really wish you weren’t talking to me right now.) And that guy with the group looking for Supergirl…well, how could I not love him? And it goes on.
Here’s to yes!
Ricki Mason
There’s so much “I think we’ll manage,” “I think we’re fine,” “I can make it on my own…” The thing about it is, that’s just not the point.
Here’s a one in 1000. I asked a young couple if they wanted a lift. Her face LIT UP. Just like that. Yes. Aaron pushed her and I escorted her gentleman friend, and they leaned right back: fearless, immediate, totally game.
How do I, a stranger on the street, get you to let your guard down? (Wow, that sentence still sounds aggressive. You should have seen my first draft. No wonder people are protective.) How do I create a little tiny universe around myself where you can trust that there’s no strings attached? We’ve taught each other to say no so well, how do we invite each other to say yes?
If I encountered The Lift, would I be a yes or a no? If I were alone, I bet I’d be a no. But if I was with another person -- really probably anyone, my girlfriend, the door guy from work, my mother, anyone – I would be a yes. Because I would want that person I was with to think I’m a yes, even though secretly I’m a no.
As I remember the people I encountered, I think, “I loved that guy who gave me a lift!” And that girl whos face lit up, I loved her! And I loved that woman who said no, so politely, her subtext blaring. (I’m going to be really really nice to you even though I really wish you weren’t talking to me right now.) And that guy with the group looking for Supergirl…well, how could I not love him? And it goes on.
Here’s to yes!
Ricki Mason
September 27th Musings. Love, bianca
Ricki was my first push. She gave me lots of weight which sent her head back towards my own. Good to shake that first anxiety around intimacy with a friend. After that, I waited. Long time. Finally, a man rounded the corner that met my eyes. Impatience had bred bravery in me and I met his gaze openly. I spoke my first 'fully heard sentence to stranger' to him. I confessed my desperation and he shrugged casually a generous yes. Later, I spoke to a man who said he walks up this hill every day at six o clock and has for the past decade. He let me walk him half way. My last lift was to a familiar face, Ian, who had come down especially for the project. After I pushed him up with my head, I began a solo. I felt shy up there in front of Virginia Inn diners, far away from the home base. The top is certainly a different and less experienced landscape.
The Lift - KT - 1st "Official" Day
1st “official” day but 3rd time at the market. Our chalk from almost one week ago was still faint on the sidewalk. We had Ricki with us this time and Ruth and Adam taking photographs. It was 5pm instead of noon and cloudy. I spent the day making buttons and sending emails re: the final day. Ruth made cards to give away and we sleuthed out a list of steep hills in Seattle. It was a big arts and crafts day.
I pushed a drunk guy up who gave almost no weight at first and toward the end did a funny, herky jerky stutter stop thing with me to try and psyche me out. It was a dance for sure. He smelled like alcohol and blew a kiss to me at the end, telling me I was cute. OK – there’s that experience.
Ricki was full on ballsey – B and Ricki made quite a team. Lots of soliciting – able to just go up to someone and ask. I watched in awe. There was Batgirl – a girl dressed in cape, boots and mask – walking around. Aaron tried to engage her and she declined. I wanted to see Batgirl get pushed up the hill.
Everyone says “that’s ok I can manage”.
I’m starting to see an archetype of woman repeat. The one who thinks she’s fat or is fat – doesn’t matter – who has her “don’t fuck with me” armor on. She will never let anyone push her up a hill.
Out of protection for myself, I gravitate to the “nice” person. Looks like me, I guess. White, healthy, educated looking – an easy target. I don’t want to engage with the meth head with spider web tattoos all over his neck. He walks the hill a lot. I gave the guy asking me for change a button. He took it but he didn’t want it. We were sharing the street with a group of 5 company co-workers who were on a treasure hunt today. They needed to find Batgirl. Oh, that’s why she’s dressed like that… Aaron and I ran/pushed them up the hill because they were in such a fripping hurry. It was good to feel that run rush. Aaron started a dance down the hill – effortlessly hopping from sidewalk to wall to sign post. I was inspired and danced too. B gave a solo at the top of the hill to her people and the three of us had the hill covered. I tried to talk to a middle aged, down and out African American worm and and she was having none of me. A fit, young couple LIT up to the offer – “YES!” they said, “we’d LOVE to have a lift!” (what?!). Aaron and B sent them up side by side. Aaron thought he could have literally picked her off the ground. So willing – they leaned back and were swept away.
I pushed a drunk guy up who gave almost no weight at first and toward the end did a funny, herky jerky stutter stop thing with me to try and psyche me out. It was a dance for sure. He smelled like alcohol and blew a kiss to me at the end, telling me I was cute. OK – there’s that experience.
Ricki was full on ballsey – B and Ricki made quite a team. Lots of soliciting – able to just go up to someone and ask. I watched in awe. There was Batgirl – a girl dressed in cape, boots and mask – walking around. Aaron tried to engage her and she declined. I wanted to see Batgirl get pushed up the hill.
Everyone says “that’s ok I can manage”.
I’m starting to see an archetype of woman repeat. The one who thinks she’s fat or is fat – doesn’t matter – who has her “don’t fuck with me” armor on. She will never let anyone push her up a hill.
Out of protection for myself, I gravitate to the “nice” person. Looks like me, I guess. White, healthy, educated looking – an easy target. I don’t want to engage with the meth head with spider web tattoos all over his neck. He walks the hill a lot. I gave the guy asking me for change a button. He took it but he didn’t want it. We were sharing the street with a group of 5 company co-workers who were on a treasure hunt today. They needed to find Batgirl. Oh, that’s why she’s dressed like that… Aaron and I ran/pushed them up the hill because they were in such a fripping hurry. It was good to feel that run rush. Aaron started a dance down the hill – effortlessly hopping from sidewalk to wall to sign post. I was inspired and danced too. B gave a solo at the top of the hill to her people and the three of us had the hill covered. I tried to talk to a middle aged, down and out African American worm and and she was having none of me. A fit, young couple LIT up to the offer – “YES!” they said, “we’d LOVE to have a lift!” (what?!). Aaron and B sent them up side by side. Aaron thought he could have literally picked her off the ground. So willing – they leaned back and were swept away.
Tuesday, September 25, 2007
The Lift - KT - 2nd Rehearsal Try Before the Main Event
Attempt #2. It should be noted at the moment I am barely getting out of bed. Given my funk, I was having some serious doubts about my availability for the old “Lift”. After our last attempt to push people up the hill at the market, Aaron suggested we dub the project “the rejection dance”. Um-really wasn’t looking forward to another journey down that road.
I have been learning about the limbic brain state, an embryologically older part of the brain developed to manage “fight” or “flight” chemicals. The more I learn, the more I realize our current score (without any warning, approach a stranger, put your hands on them and try to get them to let you help them) is putting people in their most limbic (reactive) state. Touch a stranger on the street? They will fight or flight – end of story. The current construction of the projects is doomed. Something major has to give for this project to continue. The level of psychic wear and tear on the dancers (me) is not tolerable (in even the strongest state) and besides, it just doesn’t work. So my newest thought is to get people out of a limbic state, into a curious, open mind.
Plan B
We gave ourselves a frame - a sandwich board offering free rides, a video camera, chalk drawings on the sidewalk- circles saying stand here for free ride. Immediately things changed. We weren’t scary anymore. More dopey or silly or interesting or lovely or whimsical or dumb. But not scary. It was better – how? More engaging with people – a window IN instead of a shutting down. I just feel better right now. Happier, hopeful, more connected to the world. Does that count? My feelings in the outcome?
A young, Japanese tourist woman asked me why? Why are you doing this? I said because it was nicer to have someone help you up the hill than do it alone. She shyly asked me to push her up the hill. By the end, her entire body weight was leaning back on me and she was looking up at the sky laughing and telling me the birds were flying overhead. She said, “I just got here and I love Seattle!” and predictably asked her friends to take a picture of us at the top.
I have been learning about the limbic brain state, an embryologically older part of the brain developed to manage “fight” or “flight” chemicals. The more I learn, the more I realize our current score (without any warning, approach a stranger, put your hands on them and try to get them to let you help them) is putting people in their most limbic (reactive) state. Touch a stranger on the street? They will fight or flight – end of story. The current construction of the projects is doomed. Something major has to give for this project to continue. The level of psychic wear and tear on the dancers (me) is not tolerable (in even the strongest state) and besides, it just doesn’t work. So my newest thought is to get people out of a limbic state, into a curious, open mind.
Plan B
We gave ourselves a frame - a sandwich board offering free rides, a video camera, chalk drawings on the sidewalk- circles saying stand here for free ride. Immediately things changed. We weren’t scary anymore. More dopey or silly or interesting or lovely or whimsical or dumb. But not scary. It was better – how? More engaging with people – a window IN instead of a shutting down. I just feel better right now. Happier, hopeful, more connected to the world. Does that count? My feelings in the outcome?
A young, Japanese tourist woman asked me why? Why are you doing this? I said because it was nicer to have someone help you up the hill than do it alone. She shyly asked me to push her up the hill. By the end, her entire body weight was leaning back on me and she was looking up at the sky laughing and telling me the birds were flying overhead. She said, “I just got here and I love Seattle!” and predictably asked her friends to take a picture of us at the top.
From KT - The Lift - More Than I Bargained For
We had Robin Held and her partner, Alex, over for dinner the night before we left. Robin is the curator at the Frye Museum and I think she is electric and magnetic. Alex is an architect/visual artist and was fascinating to talk to. He is this year's Stranger's Genius in Visual Arts. Awesome - A Genius.
I was telling them about our day at the market and how intense it was. As I was talking, I was realizing that is WAS REALLY intense. Aaron, I thought you had a rough psychological time due to the rejection, fear, and being made into a person
you are NOT (scary, crazy, mean) by those you approached. Bianca, I felt you to be the calm presence of the day. It seemed you had the easiest time both inside and out - the most "success" and also the free-est time of just giving it a try and not feeling failures of many kinds. Although, I am sure it was difficult for you as well - I don't mean to imply that you weren't experiencing your own struggles.
My struggles became clearer as I was conveying the information to Robin, Alex and Kirby. It was certainly hard on a personal level. The rejection and fear associated with approaching a stranger. But the harder thing for me, I think, was more on an "art"level. I remember asking you both, "was this art?" sitting on the hill at the end of our trying. I am still asking that question - wondering how to approach this idea.
We seemed to come up with three possible directions:
1. just do it again - the same, simple way - maybe in a different location, maybe with more people, maybe exactly the same.
2. make a "dance" around it - people moving up and down the hill in various ways - slow, big, cool partnering ideas, etc. - and use that dance to both create context and make us "safer" from the energy that might come back our way.
3. make a "game" - around it - chalk on the floor, shirts that describe who we are, stickers or sayings to give out, stations and horses....a sort of "pin ball" experience for people to engage with and then get spit out at the top.
I am open to trying a bunch of things as research. Perhaps all of the above and even in various ways. But, honestly, option 2 and 3 both feel oddly like compromises to me. Ways to couch the experience in something more familiar - a way to make it safer and easier and even more "successful". And that word - "successful" - is the one I keep coming back to.
One of the things that seems so hard about the project is I DO want a CERTAIN kind of connection to be made - I want to control the experience - and I am, in my mind, thinking of this PARTICULAR kind of connection as a "successful" one. I want the person who we push up the hill to be sweetly transformed - to come out on the other side a changed person - thinking that humankind IS essentially good and they will look for the kindness of strangers now where ever they go. I am looking for an intimate exchange - a perfect moment.
It was painfully clear on Wednesday that by putting ourselves in an environment where we have almost NO control over the variables that it is simply not appropriate to think we can control the experience of the people we are coming into (or not) contact with. It is a flawed equation.
I am SURE we can improve our odds for the particular "success" by engaging in option 2 or 3. It will just make everything easier. People will be less afraid of us. Yet, I can't help but feel that by engaging in either option, I am moving away
from the HEART of the idea and into, simply, more familiar, "watered down" territory. Somehow it doesn't feel right. It
is as if the edge of the idea gets immediately less sharp, the second I think about surrounding the idea with a dog and pony show. And I start to wonder if it isn't the idea and/or outcome that needs to change, but rather the expectations around the experience
itself.
Although - I DO realize we have only tried the idea in one particular way for one hour - hardly enough data to know anything for sure. I DO think it is a good idea to try a few different things in a few different locations. I don't want to shut the research down.
Robin, Alex and Kirby thought (think) it is a dynamic project. Hearing this, of course, helps me. But they were the most interested in the variables of the experience - the secret nature of it - the "subversiveness" of the art imbedded into a rather strange one on one interaction.
Robin spoke of this Chinese artist and a project that he thought of as a "catalyst" project. He took 1001 Chinese people to a very small town in Germany for an art festival / show they had there every year (he was one of the invited artists to participate). There were only something like 1,500 people in the town to begin with. The 1001 Chinese people lived there for
100 days. They just imbedded themselves in this community. Basically, they DOUBLED the population of the town. And they weren't just a little different from the townspeople. They were TOTALLY different. They looked different, ate different food, spoke a totally different language, had a totally different culture and social code. This was the art for this man. Not the OUTCOME - he had no idea what the outcome would be. How could he? I mean, I guess he knew, very simply, he was going to shake things up a bit, but that was the extent of his outcome knowledge. He set the catalyst in play as his art and let the
outcome decide itself.
In so many ways, this kind of description feels closer to our project than the "set up a big container for it to live in and for the outcome to be more pointed" option. Perhaps it is a project about the attempt. Perhaps the art of it is what happens later - the conversations we have, the conversations (or not) that the people we connected with (or didn't) have. Maybe the project lies in us writing about our experiences after we have them - I am not sure.
I agree we are in need of some kind of "container" for the art part to manifest. But as of today, I wonder if that container lies in some kind of aftermath.
I was telling them about our day at the market and how intense it was. As I was talking, I was realizing that is WAS REALLY intense. Aaron, I thought you had a rough psychological time due to the rejection, fear, and being made into a person
you are NOT (scary, crazy, mean) by those you approached. Bianca, I felt you to be the calm presence of the day. It seemed you had the easiest time both inside and out - the most "success" and also the free-est time of just giving it a try and not feeling failures of many kinds. Although, I am sure it was difficult for you as well - I don't mean to imply that you weren't experiencing your own struggles.
My struggles became clearer as I was conveying the information to Robin, Alex and Kirby. It was certainly hard on a personal level. The rejection and fear associated with approaching a stranger. But the harder thing for me, I think, was more on an "art"level. I remember asking you both, "was this art?" sitting on the hill at the end of our trying. I am still asking that question - wondering how to approach this idea.
We seemed to come up with three possible directions:
1. just do it again - the same, simple way - maybe in a different location, maybe with more people, maybe exactly the same.
2. make a "dance" around it - people moving up and down the hill in various ways - slow, big, cool partnering ideas, etc. - and use that dance to both create context and make us "safer" from the energy that might come back our way.
3. make a "game" - around it - chalk on the floor, shirts that describe who we are, stickers or sayings to give out, stations and horses....a sort of "pin ball" experience for people to engage with and then get spit out at the top.
I am open to trying a bunch of things as research. Perhaps all of the above and even in various ways. But, honestly, option 2 and 3 both feel oddly like compromises to me. Ways to couch the experience in something more familiar - a way to make it safer and easier and even more "successful". And that word - "successful" - is the one I keep coming back to.
One of the things that seems so hard about the project is I DO want a CERTAIN kind of connection to be made - I want to control the experience - and I am, in my mind, thinking of this PARTICULAR kind of connection as a "successful" one. I want the person who we push up the hill to be sweetly transformed - to come out on the other side a changed person - thinking that humankind IS essentially good and they will look for the kindness of strangers now where ever they go. I am looking for an intimate exchange - a perfect moment.
It was painfully clear on Wednesday that by putting ourselves in an environment where we have almost NO control over the variables that it is simply not appropriate to think we can control the experience of the people we are coming into (or not) contact with. It is a flawed equation.
I am SURE we can improve our odds for the particular "success" by engaging in option 2 or 3. It will just make everything easier. People will be less afraid of us. Yet, I can't help but feel that by engaging in either option, I am moving away
from the HEART of the idea and into, simply, more familiar, "watered down" territory. Somehow it doesn't feel right. It
is as if the edge of the idea gets immediately less sharp, the second I think about surrounding the idea with a dog and pony show. And I start to wonder if it isn't the idea and/or outcome that needs to change, but rather the expectations around the experience
itself.
Although - I DO realize we have only tried the idea in one particular way for one hour - hardly enough data to know anything for sure. I DO think it is a good idea to try a few different things in a few different locations. I don't want to shut the research down.
Robin, Alex and Kirby thought (think) it is a dynamic project. Hearing this, of course, helps me. But they were the most interested in the variables of the experience - the secret nature of it - the "subversiveness" of the art imbedded into a rather strange one on one interaction.
Robin spoke of this Chinese artist and a project that he thought of as a "catalyst" project. He took 1001 Chinese people to a very small town in Germany for an art festival / show they had there every year (he was one of the invited artists to participate). There were only something like 1,500 people in the town to begin with. The 1001 Chinese people lived there for
100 days. They just imbedded themselves in this community. Basically, they DOUBLED the population of the town. And they weren't just a little different from the townspeople. They were TOTALLY different. They looked different, ate different food, spoke a totally different language, had a totally different culture and social code. This was the art for this man. Not the OUTCOME - he had no idea what the outcome would be. How could he? I mean, I guess he knew, very simply, he was going to shake things up a bit, but that was the extent of his outcome knowledge. He set the catalyst in play as his art and let the
outcome decide itself.
In so many ways, this kind of description feels closer to our project than the "set up a big container for it to live in and for the outcome to be more pointed" option. Perhaps it is a project about the attempt. Perhaps the art of it is what happens later - the conversations we have, the conversations (or not) that the people we connected with (or didn't) have. Maybe the project lies in us writing about our experiences after we have them - I am not sure.
I agree we are in need of some kind of "container" for the art part to manifest. But as of today, I wonder if that container lies in some kind of aftermath.
Sunday, September 23, 2007
From Aaron: LIFTing towards liftoff
Shedding the technodoubts that cling to my computer eyes as I uncertainly navigate the realm of promises and dreams of world wide communication that is the internet, I bite a small bullet and begin writing my thoughts, hoping that they are not lost in some backwater of non accessability. The project is the LIFT, the challenge is formidable. Strangers are not comfortable being pushed up hills. How can this be changed? How can this project serve as a larger exploration of crossing the divide between strangers? How can these interactions result in people shedding their habitual eyes and seeing a moment transformed? How can this foster my growth as a dance artist and human? How can I avoid accumulating the scum of rejection as a man trying to touch strangers in public? How can I continue to be brave, compassionate and rigorous, both on the hill lifting and in the aftermath, reflecting, working the raw grapes of my experiences into understandable wine. I want this to mean something. I want it to take hold and instigate at the very least a conversation that would not otherwise have blossomed. I want people to at least notice their patterns of interaction on the street, even if they are not able to change them. I want some acceptance of strange kindness from strange dancers.
For now it is a time of questions for me, of explorations, flexibility, drawing boards and sticking with.
Last rehearsal I had my first "success," Pushing a drunk irishman up the hill to post alley where he could continue to enjoy himself at Kell's. We shook hands and I felt a soaring in my chest. Such a small thing, but so huge, to feel his openness to me, to feel that I had boosted his already high flying day a little higher, and to feel the heap of previous rejections and recoils from my hands melt a little bit into the past. This project is not what I imagined it would be. More personal somehow, harder, grittier, thicker into the tension between art and entertainment. It is reassuring though, to see that if we just stick with it, learning from our previous experiences no matter how hard they are, then we grow, and become more clear, and find new purpose in what we are doing. Its like an experiment with far too many variables to ever be scientific, and yet for the same reason vastly interesting, surprising and spawning of long chains of theories. May you nameless ones accompany us on our journey, and may we reach the crest breathless and renewed.
aaron
For now it is a time of questions for me, of explorations, flexibility, drawing boards and sticking with.
Last rehearsal I had my first "success," Pushing a drunk irishman up the hill to post alley where he could continue to enjoy himself at Kell's. We shook hands and I felt a soaring in my chest. Such a small thing, but so huge, to feel his openness to me, to feel that I had boosted his already high flying day a little higher, and to feel the heap of previous rejections and recoils from my hands melt a little bit into the past. This project is not what I imagined it would be. More personal somehow, harder, grittier, thicker into the tension between art and entertainment. It is reassuring though, to see that if we just stick with it, learning from our previous experiences no matter how hard they are, then we grow, and become more clear, and find new purpose in what we are doing. Its like an experiment with far too many variables to ever be scientific, and yet for the same reason vastly interesting, surprising and spawning of long chains of theories. May you nameless ones accompany us on our journey, and may we reach the crest breathless and renewed.
aaron
Tuesday, September 11, 2007
From Bianca: The Lift
On Sep 4, 2007, at 1:15AM, Bianca Cabrera wrote:
i couldn't make it to the gym today.... so i ran. I RAN. my car in the shop, my ipod in hand i ran to
to the body shop, still couldnt get my car so i ran home. on my block there was a girl. little like juliet. she had literally eleven grocery bags and she was trying as hard as she could to manage them . i stalled, i mean, i had been running, i wanted to go home a fix myself a cocktail for christ's sake but i stalled. i went over and told her "you know i didn't have time to really exercise today, how far are you going/ can i help?" she let me, about two blocks. but i think, after seeing me not mind so much, apology set in. Apology. I mean, i asked. she didn't flag me down. and yet, she felt the need to apologize to me.
she apologized for the weight.
i think of the lift and i think of how much weight there is that people apologize for. whether it is literal or whether it is us, apologizing for our art.
how do we bypass the apology?
what if they just let themselves enjoy the help?
what if we went out of the way, not for them but for ourselves?
what if the art wasn't out of the way?
i looked at my books and really, whatever.
people made art and didn't apologize. in fact, apology from the audience was never a factor.
i think for us, it is and so, we need to consider it.
we are on our own.(wheeeee!!!!!)
there is good, seen and unseen.
some of what we'll do is seen and loved,
some of what we'll do is seen and rejected. what if success is measured by whether we did it or not.
what if WE got something out of the failed attempts?
We only can control ourselves in any given situation. What if we stopped trying to choreograph people's responses?
I know it all sounds so naive or idealistic.
but, IT IS.
Why apologize for that.
she still let me carry her bags two blocks, two blocks more i went if i had'nt stalled.
i think we should pursue, document all exchanges. learn from all exchanges.
even if we are the only 'changes' we can document.
anyway, it is totally the middle of the night.
Bianca Cabrera
comtemporary dance artist
rock and roll animal
i couldn't make it to the gym today.... so i ran. I RAN. my car in the shop, my ipod in hand i ran to
to the body shop, still couldnt get my car so i ran home. on my block there was a girl. little like juliet. she had literally eleven grocery bags and she was trying as hard as she could to manage them . i stalled, i mean, i had been running, i wanted to go home a fix myself a cocktail for christ's sake but i stalled. i went over and told her "you know i didn't have time to really exercise today, how far are you going/ can i help?" she let me, about two blocks. but i think, after seeing me not mind so much, apology set in. Apology. I mean, i asked. she didn't flag me down. and yet, she felt the need to apologize to me.
she apologized for the weight.
i think of the lift and i think of how much weight there is that people apologize for. whether it is literal or whether it is us, apologizing for our art.
how do we bypass the apology?
what if they just let themselves enjoy the help?
what if we went out of the way, not for them but for ourselves?
what if the art wasn't out of the way?
i looked at my books and really, whatever.
people made art and didn't apologize. in fact, apology from the audience was never a factor.
i think for us, it is and so, we need to consider it.
we are on our own.(wheeeee!!!!!)
there is good, seen and unseen.
some of what we'll do is seen and loved,
some of what we'll do is seen and rejected. what if success is measured by whether we did it or not.
what if WE got something out of the failed attempts?
We only can control ourselves in any given situation. What if we stopped trying to choreograph people's responses?
I know it all sounds so naive or idealistic.
but, IT IS.
Why apologize for that.
she still let me carry her bags two blocks, two blocks more i went if i had'nt stalled.
i think we should pursue, document all exchanges. learn from all exchanges.
even if we are the only 'changes' we can document.
anyway, it is totally the middle of the night.
Bianca Cabrera
comtemporary dance artist
rock and roll animal
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