Saturday, July 25, 2009
7:58 am edt
[note.book] #5432n
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[5][17]am
Or THIS IS NOT COLLAGE------------------------------------------------------------------
It’s only a matter of time before the constant barrage of stimulation coagulates
into a jelly or trace of flickering images, sounds and actions. The conscience, calculating the data, breaking it down and
reintroducing notions of relationship to the [object] through palpable examinations of the mind - i.e. the display of matter,
categorically churning out the old to display the potential for the new – vibrating like a second set of strings on
a viola d’amore. >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
The new: contradictory, scientific,
child like and reactionary to the feeling of the noise to the emotional irrelevance \\\\ non pure + [pure
form]. Feelings. Non-feelings. To create monstrosity. Will it all be dead before it is born?
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*A carcass of Saturn’s son #121098484. \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\
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Get your fill\\\\An abridgement of life without emotion. To experience feeling all the way? \\\\Everything has seen the past even before it has taken form in the present.\\\\
The body as history. The historic code of mankind written within its cells – accessible through practice – a deep-sea
dive – a physical connection to the past. Monk like qualities to the un-created energies of Christ – the halo.
The unknown, unseen the otherness, the split from the vortex, the hidden racket of things divine or impossible.
The highest ideal within theater or for that matter the human body. We must guard the theater. Moving outside into other areas
of study to concretize a new form.
A NEW FORM!!!
[tick tock/tick tock/tick
tock]
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Theater vibrates in the body +
mind + the construction/deconstruction of space, time dimension. To parallel life itself as to not react to life or reflect
life but to generate pure vibrations ---- this “otherness” that Grotowski speaks of. Where does the vibration
go? Is the vibration quick fix? A sleepless night where the dawn comes quick? A chirp. A chirp. Language = spastic + density
= a starting point for theatrical creation // describing the corrosive memory of history and of performance to create a meta-theatrical
world. The duality between the author [history] and the performers, blend into one entity, creating a single theatrical object
responsibly, irresponsible of action and interpretation.
Da. Da. Da.
Da. Da.
Da
Da. Da. Da
Ok. The theater as art object – spinning. Momentum
generated by the actor, the omni presence of the director, live music, sound, light, the constant gaze of the spectator as
partner or the enemy. The [object] defending, fighting against itself, us the performer and the gaze. Moving past itself,
with itself, spinning, spinning, and spinning. The actor present in this vortex of encounter, moves with balletic form through
the landscape, able to retreat to the back, move to the front line, take a break or step out of the spinning orb. *SPLAT*
Where does the [art] meet the [gaze] of the viewer? Helvetica
is the space that surrounds the letters – the air by which the form takes life. Theater in this way generates space/time
to generate material, fueling its environment. The director and the spectator in dialogue with each other; as if, in registration
for the war ++++++ the distance and the inclusive coddling, the exchanged experience/emotional reaction in both forms. The
anger and disregard for the audience. This is not generated for them.……
a 3rd part harmony.
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To
give context: ***
Four Oranges + Large Crickets + Foot
on Cool Tile + Itch + Seven Lanterns
A place: Dark ill lit one bedroom in Poland. Wall paper tearing. Stained maroon couch with
yellow stitching and a missing coffee table. No photos please. Gypsy children fill the halls. A kitchen towards the back.
A train car with blue iridescent light seeping through the drapes. An elderly woman sprawled out like a queen in a raincoat
drinking orange soda. Dulled steel, framing the window with nothing in it. Broken beer bottles + human fesses.
************ Its
theater! Its theater! Its theater!************
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7:57 am edt
Friday, July 10, 2009
MOVEMENT # 2
PASSING FROM POLAND
The mist will settle in the morning,
one morning.
Due to the continually disproportionate and often fictitious amounts of material within our memory stores,
a process of distillation is very much in order. Wroclaw brought its festival liquids to an even boil upon its cobbled
surface and making sense of the subsequent vapors has been our project to date. Passing in amongst this haze of inter-action
will anoint our course toward volition and initiate a sententious phrasing capable of illustrating the form and structures
of our collective. Carefully, we begin to speak ourselves again---ordered verbiage---as a timid self-evidence collects
on our porous exterior. This will be a cruel and inexorable process of dispelling with a great many purposeless and remarkable
acts. If being exposed to the theatre is about inventory and distribution, then one must ascend toward a turbulent appraisal
of things in order to lend a body to the world. Participation in the Grotowski Festival has been co-extensive; sway
toward exchange. Its residual activities will radiate from within us as we negotiate our contemporary qualities.
Movement is merely approaching the world in oncoming bodies.
We take to the road.
Our bearings
pressed southeast out of Poland toward the Slovakian border. Before entering the castle-strewn national parks of said region,
we risked a moment of pause at the gates of the Auschwitz and Birkenau death camps. Undoubtedly our conceptions of dismemberment
were brought into explicit context by the great industrial genocide of the last century and its project of experimental human
construction/destruction. The machinic appendages embedded in its psycho-physical architecture maintain a strict gestural
diligence to the imagery that was to be bequeathed by their “new man” which makes thinking about the configuration
of form while walking in Auschwitz not unlike spending an afternoon at the pool with Leni Riefenstahl and her kids.
Instead, we are compelled to engage in a consideration of remembrance. We walk through Block 21 (death block) in our
bodies---sentient creatures---no longer subject to idealistic experimentation; boundless in freedom flight, we have no interest
in replacing the ideal, on the contrary, we are seeking a mode of being, a state of grace where we may remain limitless and
periodic under the drifting sky. Our assemblages will resemble burnt-out tollbooths, crop circles of cairns, and translucent
guideposts across a provisional map. We are the bearers of words and of visions: by remaining rigorous in our memory,
this encounter will be re-called in wild assay at a latter date. Its elemental implications will settle within us and
line our interior with crude material until they swiftly awakes and inform our declarations to come. We intend to be
true to them, to remember them and to heed their call.
Again, we take heed and to the road.
It
was in this nakedness that we entered the Gellert bathhouse in Budapest. Joining the men and woman of Hungary under water
and steam was a delicate personification of the warm embraces of tradition. The bathing custom proved marvelously capable
of exemplifying the durative face of time, which was perfect for us as our visit was in tandem with our celebrating an Ahmanson’s
traversal of a quarter century.
Wednesday, July 8, 2009
MOVEMENT #1
Caught lost again below borders of burdensome and impressive formation---stunned by Slovakia’s
northern territory. Sudden stone developments rose above our new rivers and train tracks; thinking to someself…something
about tourism, management, restoration and upkeep. Now the bronzed moon lingers in a low foreboding sky as we hover
forward, home again on reliable highways. It’s low enough to rise continually as hills reform before us.
She dips and bobs below burgeoning ridgelines, dawning with deliverance in retrograde.
- S. Fondurburk
POOR DOG GROUP
COMPRESS
This festival (The Grotowski Festival – Poland) devoured the week like a gremlin holiday, with zeal;
confused and defensive at worst, poised in integral lamentation and monastic elegy at best. Our corpus was pregnant
upon arrival, after all, Los Angeles is where we stayed, where we’ve been, where we’ve happened, and loads of
the participants were in amongst these transactions.
All at once, we found ourselves coaxed into prosaic introduction
before a begrudged hive of festival participants. The nest was sour with political inbreeding, corked enthusiasm, and
reluctantly abundant breakfast items. Making use of these slippery jams came easy, and with the multitudes giving chase
in a style quite near to the manner born, we felt sure our learned botany of barebacked equestrianism would suit the soil.
As one might imagine, our irreverence was met with a whole galaxy of dissonant contentions regarding the readiness of our
group, the shivering heart of American theatre, and the nuanced landscape of conference/festival etiquette. It’s
important to note that this feedback did not come all at once, quite the contrary. The advent of our critical musings was
prolonged by a continual exposure to performance, fellow festival participants and the sheer presence required when inhabiting
the World-Europe-Poland-Wroclaw space in which we were engulfed. The onslaught was multilateral as well---all the pipers
piping, all the vipers viping. How did the music sound? On whom in fact, we’re the vipers intending to feed?
What was this room into which our company was sprung? Who were we upon arrival? Where in fact, had we arrived?
The conditioning that took place before our arrival goes something like this:
There came about a conversation
during the residency at the student center in Zagreb, Croatia: gestation. This circle was closed. It was the first
of a series of group huddles in which the company has been generating a space for feedback, reflection, affirmation and dissention.
This initial circle was volatile and confused, like foreign weather in a new region. As we traversed the circumference
of our gathering, our words began to disassemble our mythic constitution. Our testimonies gradually bemused the language
previously capable of describing the inner workings of our group, and under the pressure created by the insistence of our
new found words and collections of words, we began to collapse the majority of our identification structures. All at
once, we came to know each other in new and dangerous ways. Our characters became fluid and transient as an entire new
collection of demands was articulated across the space between us, and as we gave voice to what we thought we thought and
remembered we forgot, our collective body was transfigured. Our conversation at the Student centre in Zagreb was successful
in that we facilitated the de-mythologizing of our collective Poor Dog fantasy by repealing our illusions while at the same
time, presenting new ones.
When we arrived at the Grotowski Institute’s introduction session this is as
we were, as Erik Ehn would have us---ghosts looking for our bodies---the world’s applause exiling the spirits from our
flesh.
4:10 am edt
