A few jugglers, aerialists, shadow puppeteers, a musician.
Very slow wifi. Communal kale. I came to an Artist Residency.
Here in the studio,
the musician is working with a singer and a looping pedal. They're
making a simple song with a simple, clean chorus
how you gonna
get your crazies out—
and then they loop
that chorus and the singer sings are you gonna dance 'em out but
it gets looped in this cool way that I don't understand yet (I'm
still a newbie to the looper) so it ends up sounding like
how you gonna get your crazies—
are u gonna dance 'em out
The contact improv
has paused for the moment, and the improvisers are now lying on the
floor, talking, cozily, about group dynamics.
I've been touring
hard for a few years, and when I wasn't touring, on the computer,
setting up touring. I've been teaching and directing and doing one
show—a show that varies a lot, sure, but still, same character,
same energies, ebb'n'flow, here you go, how you gonna get your
crazies—
are u gonna dance 'em out
Now they've stopped
and the singer is yawning. Je suis fatiguee, she sings into
the mic. Then, she murmurs, Good practice. They relax.
The studio is
glowing dimly, just one light in the corner. The trapezes cast their
shadows on the vast walls.
I didn't know what
the hell I'd do here. I had a few ideas. I had no idea how I'd work
on them by myself, as I don't do great creating on my own. Or at
least, that's the narrative I've built for myself over the past few
years. But how much creating have I been doing? I live a creative
life, but man, these creative trees we call creative lives have so
many branches, and you can neglect some, and they'll wither, but the
rest of the tree keeps on and gets tall and maybe doesn't even notice
the few dying branches. The birds notice, though.
It's a delicate,
flowing thing, an artist residency. Living among artists. Artists
come and go, they are present, they are absent. I have put myself as
another fish in this river, gliding along in the strange water. The
echoes of dishes being put away upstairs. It's late.
I bowed out of
Edinburgh Fringe, and I came here. It has been so much business. So
much career. I think of something a producer friend of mine said when
I told him I was not going to Edinburgh this summer, that I need to
take care of myself. He said, "All I see around me are artists
not taking care of themselves."
And so here I am.
For the first time in a long time, I played in front of the mirror,
pretty much by myself. I danced butoh, and then I put on a devil mask
and played with that, and I made a juggler laugh.
What am I going to
make here? I don't know. I'm going to be an artist here. It's easy to
get swept up in the business, and then that is all it is. We think,
before we make money as artists, that all we want is to be in the
business. We think that will solve everything, that that will be all
we need.
I need to bring
myself to the mirror and not know what's there.
The music is done
for the night. Some cuddling has commenced. I'm going to watch "Dirty
Dancing" in bed. It's the only movie I have.
how you gonna get your crazies—
are u gonna dance 'em out
