Beginnings….are not my forte. if anything, i start with the end and work my way backwards. the last thing is what i usually remember the most, so i feel it deserves extra special attention. would that explain my preoccupation with death? hmmmm….anyways, I’m glad the beginning is behind us and we are marching full-steam ahead into the meat of our process.
Working for other’s projects began to feel like compulsively collecting experience, consuming rather than creating. Procrastinating by filling every last minute being dedicated to someone else. There were many lessons and rewards that came from that, but as the clock ticktocked away, i realized that postmodern circus was the thing that i wanted to pour my energy into.
I like to choreograph movement phrases in public spaces, away from the pressure of the studio and the mirrors flinging my distortion back at me. Seattle Center skate park, after dark, commanding an invisible army from the cold smooth concrete cliff. it’s a violent gestural arm phrase that cuts through my steamy breath. the audience of no one is captivated as i capitate my imagined assailant. “Okay, My turn now…” a skater carves the park back into it’s intended form. I pull my sleeves over my hands and practice press-to-handstands on a grindrail, which proves to be more difficult than my mind says it is. I run up the wall and do a jump turn. the ground comes up too soon from the dimly lit air and i have to improvise a side-roll to keep my face blood-free and my teeth where they belong. the skater criss-crosses my path unshaken. we’re soloists on two separate stages that happen to take up the same space-time tube. Our oblivion of each other is intentional, and neither one of us has a desire to learn the other’s vocabulary. I fold the audience back into myself and walk away a teeny bit of new material.