It was a very Saturday type of day. Bustle and hustle and some drinking going on. I got a free hug from a stranger before I started, and thus fueled up set to videoing. Unfortunately, my hands got cold, I wasn't capturing things the way I had been the last time I videoed. Maybe, since more was happening I couldn't get simple shots, or maybe I wasn't committing to just one thing, and so never felt like I really captured the essence of a moment.
Regardless, I was happy to pass off the camera and get to LIFTing. Scott was there to bolster my confidence, and I felt how quickly something becomes boring once it becomes known. Its not that I was bored the whole time, certainly not, but a certain mystery and meaning is being drained out of me by the repetition. The stakes feel lower and most of the interactions fall into well catagorized types. Still, I got a girl up on my own. She was a little bit big, and I was proud of her trusting me with her weight. Satisfied by the fleshy, solid feeling of her back pressed into my hands.
After that first lift, things blurred for a while, lost in the shuffle. Then John came along. Like I said last time, I attract the talkers. A bright, joyous drunk Alaskan native veteran, John really gave me his weight, and his stories too. We danced/stumbled up the hill, i even carried him because he wanted to fly. We didn't make it all the way up the hill, and talked for perhaps 20 minutes leaned against a rail 3/4ths of the way up. He had a blue eyebrow from stitches, bad teeth, and a mischevious glint in his eyes. He was proud of his military service even though he had been dropped to the street upon his return, awards and all. I marvelled at his acceptance of that military time as a positive one when it seemed clear to me that it had wrecked his life, but then I realized that it has to be so. TO have your life ruined for something meaningless or even wrong is too painful, too crushing. In order to salvage some positivity, which John definitely has done, he needs to place value on his military service, needs to believe that it did the world some good.
Another thought that came out of my time with John is more directly connected to the project. I really enjoyed hanging with him, but at a certain time felt the need to return to the rest of the lift, and could feel that he didn't want me to go, could feel neediness or awkwardness. Is this how people who are LIFTed feel, exhilerated for a moment, and then distracted by how to get away smoothly? We are such social creatures, fearful of offending even new met strangers. Maybe that is why so many people rush past us, unwilling to engage at all, because once they have engaged even a little bit they feel obligated, once they know our story it is harder to ignore their compassion.
I also had someone push me up the hill, got to feel the awkwardness and difficulty in trusting with my weight. It was nice to see things from both sides, but I think it wasn't a truly reversed experience because I was still directing the interaction even as I was being pushed.
Last quick thought, I can feel our mark as we return to the same spot over time. More and more "locals" are interacting with us, I recognize more people, feel more a part of the landscape. It will be sad to leave that hill to its own devices.
aaron
Wednesday, October 10, 2007
Sunday, October 7, 2007
Aaron's 3rd try's a charm
We arrive in the pouring rain, hail even, but it proves to be a good thing. People slow naturally at the corner to be under the cover of the awning before having a go at the hill and we are able to approach them naturally. Somehow the storminess proves a bonding experience, big drops on the face as we look up. I feel a force of nature as I push people up with the wind alive and pushing as well. I chaparone a few LIFTs with an umbrella, and as the updraft catches it I feel I could fly, so light is the feeling.
The rain stops, a sea change, blue sky and glorious, Scott manning the corner with easy perserverence, and all of us pushing up more people than any other day. He has a routine to it, basically the same line every time, and I realize that allows him to both save his creative energy for those who stop or slow down or ask why, and also avoid the emotional risk of investing in your approach to the stranger. He is good though, has a certain ease of a salesman, but fun. I try to take notes, augmenting my strengths with his.
My strength is the talkers. Guys like Hollis who come up, talking a mile a minute, do a little improv dance of their own and enter into a little verbal dance of stories and witticisms, and of course they always do it with me. Hollis described himself in three words at my asking. Aimless, mindless, directionless, Hollis, because its less. Like some strange advertisement. I enjoyed talking with him, hearing about his wandering ways. He likes to walk in parks and talk to strangers, I ask him if he does both at the same time much. All the while we are talking he is spilling salad oils from a plastic container, sloshing it around for emphasis as he talks. I ask him to post thoughts on the blog, because he has a philosophical bent, but he is nontechnological, doesn't fool with computers at all.
I really feel my confidence take off. What would once be traumatic if not unthinkable, today I take it in stride, asking strangers if they want a lift even if I am the lone soul on the corner. Confidence really is a drug. I start to understand the addiction of the 'yes' and the boredom of the ensuing interaction, but I try to keep probing on the way up, avoiding the small talk questions and sticking to trying to have a real and openning experience with a stranger. Feeling someones back open into my hands like an eloquent sentence about trust remains the most satisfying sensation in the project, but dancing and flying down the hill can be pretty exhilerating as well.
We met an art student who had seen the chalk remains of our other days but never seen us. It was cool to hear about his experience of the chalk only, the mystery and wonder of having these words that don't make sense when we the LIFTers aren't around. Helped me to see our impact in a broader way.
Lastly, I was exhausted when we ended, as usual, but in a different way. Elated, satisfied, physically more tired because I worked harder LIFTing more people, socially less drained because I had gotten more back from my interactions. It makes me think of the types of exhaustion. Currently I am experiencing the last electronic missive before bed, bleary eyed exhaustion. Tommorow it will be the up before its light with happy morning son, slightly uncoordinated body exhaustion.
aaron
The rain stops, a sea change, blue sky and glorious, Scott manning the corner with easy perserverence, and all of us pushing up more people than any other day. He has a routine to it, basically the same line every time, and I realize that allows him to both save his creative energy for those who stop or slow down or ask why, and also avoid the emotional risk of investing in your approach to the stranger. He is good though, has a certain ease of a salesman, but fun. I try to take notes, augmenting my strengths with his.
My strength is the talkers. Guys like Hollis who come up, talking a mile a minute, do a little improv dance of their own and enter into a little verbal dance of stories and witticisms, and of course they always do it with me. Hollis described himself in three words at my asking. Aimless, mindless, directionless, Hollis, because its less. Like some strange advertisement. I enjoyed talking with him, hearing about his wandering ways. He likes to walk in parks and talk to strangers, I ask him if he does both at the same time much. All the while we are talking he is spilling salad oils from a plastic container, sloshing it around for emphasis as he talks. I ask him to post thoughts on the blog, because he has a philosophical bent, but he is nontechnological, doesn't fool with computers at all.
I really feel my confidence take off. What would once be traumatic if not unthinkable, today I take it in stride, asking strangers if they want a lift even if I am the lone soul on the corner. Confidence really is a drug. I start to understand the addiction of the 'yes' and the boredom of the ensuing interaction, but I try to keep probing on the way up, avoiding the small talk questions and sticking to trying to have a real and openning experience with a stranger. Feeling someones back open into my hands like an eloquent sentence about trust remains the most satisfying sensation in the project, but dancing and flying down the hill can be pretty exhilerating as well.
We met an art student who had seen the chalk remains of our other days but never seen us. It was cool to hear about his experience of the chalk only, the mystery and wonder of having these words that don't make sense when we the LIFTers aren't around. Helped me to see our impact in a broader way.
Lastly, I was exhausted when we ended, as usual, but in a different way. Elated, satisfied, physically more tired because I worked harder LIFTing more people, socially less drained because I had gotten more back from my interactions. It makes me think of the types of exhaustion. Currently I am experiencing the last electronic missive before bed, bleary eyed exhaustion. Tommorow it will be the up before its light with happy morning son, slightly uncoordinated body exhaustion.
aaron
Saturday, October 6, 2007
Investment Bankers and Homeless Men - Scott's First Comments
I've never much enjoyed performing out in the public. Give me a theater with lights, costumes, a crack tech team, and a paying audience that has read the publicity and is invested in the show's success before even sitting down -- that's my kind of performance.
Foisting my art on the unsuspecting, uninitiated, and often uninterested public has often felt presumptious, egocentric, and downright embarrassing.
That's the predisposition I loaded into KT's car Wednesday afternoon as I went off to my first LIFT outing. And the weather reflected my internal state: dark, rainy, cold, and threatening a long winter.
But gosh darn it if I didn't end up having a great time. A memorable afternoon in the company of some of my favorite fellow-performers interacting with a hesitant but never ill-willed public. And the sun came out to remind me of the extraordinary beauty of our little city on the Sound.
For me the LIFT on Wednesday became a social experiment and the pervading question was: WHY DID YOU, PERSON X, SAY 'YES', WHEN THE MAJORITY OF THE PEOPLE OUT HERE SAY 'NO'? And the answers varied from 'Why not?' to 'I've got four hours to kill before my flight'. Not profound. At least not yet -- maybe I'll discover pofundity later. Some insight into human nature. I suspect that for some folks it was just easier to say 'yes' than to let us down...
I always thanked the yea-sayers for trusting me. I wonder if any of them recounted the story of being pushed up a hill to others in their lives later that day. Perhaps at a dinner table? Perhaps over a beer? Perhaps as they did the dishes? Will one or another of them remember, some future day when they are walking up a steep urban street, the odd LIFT they got on Wednesday?
I'll pursue the 'what made you say yes' line of inquiry during today's LIFT. And I hope to add a dance piece to the experiment (on the descent back down the hill). I also hope to focus more on the LIFT part of the participant's experience, rather than the pre-LIFT decision-making part.
Montage: The Ohio State couple -- his bright, mischievous eyes. Lynn in his orange jacket. The sidewalk philosopher who engaged with Aaron. George from the school. Susan from the school. The tall hanger-backer with intelligent eyes. Aaron crazy-leap dancing back down. The suit wearing investment bankers from the east coast with their sincere curiosity and playful willingness. And of course the dozens of nay-sayers: the 'I'm fines', the 'ha-ha-ha's', the duck arounders, the no thanksers, the 'maybe next timers', the 'talk about it for a long time but still say no-ers'.
A slice of the public -- the 'demos', the people in your neighborhood, the investment bankers and the homeless.
Foisting my art on the unsuspecting, uninitiated, and often uninterested public has often felt presumptious, egocentric, and downright embarrassing.
That's the predisposition I loaded into KT's car Wednesday afternoon as I went off to my first LIFT outing. And the weather reflected my internal state: dark, rainy, cold, and threatening a long winter.
But gosh darn it if I didn't end up having a great time. A memorable afternoon in the company of some of my favorite fellow-performers interacting with a hesitant but never ill-willed public. And the sun came out to remind me of the extraordinary beauty of our little city on the Sound.
For me the LIFT on Wednesday became a social experiment and the pervading question was: WHY DID YOU, PERSON X, SAY 'YES', WHEN THE MAJORITY OF THE PEOPLE OUT HERE SAY 'NO'? And the answers varied from 'Why not?' to 'I've got four hours to kill before my flight'. Not profound. At least not yet -- maybe I'll discover pofundity later. Some insight into human nature. I suspect that for some folks it was just easier to say 'yes' than to let us down...
I always thanked the yea-sayers for trusting me. I wonder if any of them recounted the story of being pushed up a hill to others in their lives later that day. Perhaps at a dinner table? Perhaps over a beer? Perhaps as they did the dishes? Will one or another of them remember, some future day when they are walking up a steep urban street, the odd LIFT they got on Wednesday?
I'll pursue the 'what made you say yes' line of inquiry during today's LIFT. And I hope to add a dance piece to the experiment (on the descent back down the hill). I also hope to focus more on the LIFT part of the participant's experience, rather than the pre-LIFT decision-making part.
Montage: The Ohio State couple -- his bright, mischievous eyes. Lynn in his orange jacket. The sidewalk philosopher who engaged with Aaron. George from the school. Susan from the school. The tall hanger-backer with intelligent eyes. Aaron crazy-leap dancing back down. The suit wearing investment bankers from the east coast with their sincere curiosity and playful willingness. And of course the dozens of nay-sayers: the 'I'm fines', the 'ha-ha-ha's', the duck arounders, the no thanksers, the 'maybe next timers', the 'talk about it for a long time but still say no-ers'.
A slice of the public -- the 'demos', the people in your neighborhood, the investment bankers and the homeless.
Friday, October 5, 2007
Aaron's thoughts from the 29th
Overcast and cold, I start with the video camera and am comforted by its lens. I am able to step back and see the experiment from a purely visual place, a place where rejection is often beautiful, where someone walking up the hill tells a story whether they are being "lifted" or not. I notice how much the way someone mounts a steep hill tells about them, the way they lean in to it, or limp to one side, or turn around and shuffle backwards, or pretend they are on flat ground.
I relenquish the camera after 15 minutes and am confronted once more by my fear of approaching strangers. I feel like a loner, hiding in dances and alleyways. I felt powerful in the role of watcher and recorder, I feel helpless in the role of generous soul. Still, we forge on, soldiers. I find myself alone at the bottom of the hill, daunted, promising myself to talk to the next stranger who comes my way and letting them pass time and again in silence. I trickle out a little dance to build confidence on the corner, and managee to get rejected a few times.
I move higher up the hill, trying for a 2nd effort technique of making sure people still don't want a lift now that they are starting to feel the hill in their legs. It doesn't yield any lifts, but does seem to change the timbre of their laughs.
Finally, after giving up on giving a lift and focusing on the various energies of the different parts of the hill, lo and behold, I give a lift, and from an unexpected demographic, a shy local man lets me push him the hill. Then, the wavelike structure of urban energy strikes and I am pushing another man up the hill, a friend of Juliets who is looking through binoculars on the way up and talking on his cel phone. Somehow he feels like a powerful success, I really feel his body learning to give me its weight. I feel at ease and spacious upon reaching the pinnacle. Since I prefer to leave on a roll rather than push my luck to the breaking point I call it a day.
Afterwords I notice that I am once again exhausted. This type of social interaction tires me out. Even though I have felt fear and rejection, the day does not feel bad to me. Starting by videoing has given me an outside lens to realize that whatever happens it contains the seeds of story and change. Even the fidgety awkwardness of waiting for someone to come along when my confidence is down is charged with energy and expectation. I am learning to put my reactions into movement more seamlessly.
I relenquish the camera after 15 minutes and am confronted once more by my fear of approaching strangers. I feel like a loner, hiding in dances and alleyways. I felt powerful in the role of watcher and recorder, I feel helpless in the role of generous soul. Still, we forge on, soldiers. I find myself alone at the bottom of the hill, daunted, promising myself to talk to the next stranger who comes my way and letting them pass time and again in silence. I trickle out a little dance to build confidence on the corner, and managee to get rejected a few times.
I move higher up the hill, trying for a 2nd effort technique of making sure people still don't want a lift now that they are starting to feel the hill in their legs. It doesn't yield any lifts, but does seem to change the timbre of their laughs.
Finally, after giving up on giving a lift and focusing on the various energies of the different parts of the hill, lo and behold, I give a lift, and from an unexpected demographic, a shy local man lets me push him the hill. Then, the wavelike structure of urban energy strikes and I am pushing another man up the hill, a friend of Juliets who is looking through binoculars on the way up and talking on his cel phone. Somehow he feels like a powerful success, I really feel his body learning to give me its weight. I feel at ease and spacious upon reaching the pinnacle. Since I prefer to leave on a roll rather than push my luck to the breaking point I call it a day.
Afterwords I notice that I am once again exhausted. This type of social interaction tires me out. Even though I have felt fear and rejection, the day does not feel bad to me. Starting by videoing has given me an outside lens to realize that whatever happens it contains the seeds of story and change. Even the fidgety awkwardness of waiting for someone to come along when my confidence is down is charged with energy and expectation. I am learning to put my reactions into movement more seamlessly.
Thursday, October 4, 2007
The Lift - KT - Thundrous and Magical - Wednesday, October 3
Magical Day.
Perfect moments kept coming.
Parking spot RIGHT in front of our post - a FREE spot in the market - one of five free spots left in Seattle.
A thunderstorm complete with hail turning a corner 20 minuets later as the sun broke the sky wide open in reverse.
Scott brought "moving man" blue, one piece suits for he and Aaron to don. Five minuets later, Ricki showed up in her same, EXACT outfit (no, really, no one called her). Lisa T. brought her lightness of being into the mix.
I SWEAR everyone we asked said yes.
Scott literally CARRIED a small, Japanese woman up, baby style. If that weren't enough, a few minutes later I turned around to witness him carrying a homeless guy up on his BACK, arms threaded through arms, head thrown back. With his legs crossed and dangling, the man resembled Jesus on the cross, no way to get around it.
Lisa was relentless in her fabulous way. "No....lean back...no, REALLY lean back....we're just going to wait here until you honestly give me your weight. Don't you trust me? Come on, trust me..." She had people walking up leaning back so far they were virtually parallel with the ground. They went slow and she got their stories - their names.
We tried to get the UPS man to let us roll him up on his cart. He considered it....
Light, Laughter. So different than our first try. Thunderstorm to blue sky.
Perfect moments kept coming.
Parking spot RIGHT in front of our post - a FREE spot in the market - one of five free spots left in Seattle.
A thunderstorm complete with hail turning a corner 20 minuets later as the sun broke the sky wide open in reverse.
Scott brought "moving man" blue, one piece suits for he and Aaron to don. Five minuets later, Ricki showed up in her same, EXACT outfit (no, really, no one called her). Lisa T. brought her lightness of being into the mix.
I SWEAR everyone we asked said yes.
Scott literally CARRIED a small, Japanese woman up, baby style. If that weren't enough, a few minutes later I turned around to witness him carrying a homeless guy up on his BACK, arms threaded through arms, head thrown back. With his legs crossed and dangling, the man resembled Jesus on the cross, no way to get around it.
Lisa was relentless in her fabulous way. "No....lean back...no, REALLY lean back....we're just going to wait here until you honestly give me your weight. Don't you trust me? Come on, trust me..." She had people walking up leaning back so far they were virtually parallel with the ground. They went slow and she got their stories - their names.
We tried to get the UPS man to let us roll him up on his cart. He considered it....
Light, Laughter. So different than our first try. Thunderstorm to blue sky.
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