I was anxious about laying my head on Alexis' shoulder and grieving. For starters, I have already dumped so many problems this week: Margaret received my request for justice regarding misogyny; Paul arbitrated on my love life; and Kira weighed my anger and my compassion, my intellect and my emotions. Not that I have a shortage of grievances, but here amidst this bleeding, body and process-oriented group, I was getting tired. "Fuck," I realized. "I guess all that's left to do is vomit up my family."Alexis' "Sorrow Sponge" has had many incarnations, this iteration being the least theatrical. Simply, an assistant invites you to lay your head on her shoulder and tell her your troubles. A massive shoulder pad plays an audio loop of a lapping lake while recording your grievance. The audio Alexis collects will be cut into fragments and used in Saturday night's concert.
Creating performance is a series of infinite decisions. Some of them fall outside the bounds of the medium. Alexis, like me, is torn between entertainment and art, the presentational and the process-oriented, giving and taking, and, most profoundly, how to listen. Neither of us neatly fit into performance art definitions, but perhaps that is true of everyone. Maybe the strength of the medium (and the confusing, vexing aspect of the medium) is that it is such a catch-all for the diverse images/ideas we each create with our bodies.
Alexis has a long history with improv, and is not so interested in packages or endings. Fun is important, even in approaching a sorrowful subject matter.
What I anticipated would be a confessional space turned into a conversation. She let the interaction unfold. She shared her experiences. We brainstormed strategies. I felt less alone. Now isn't that a good perf outcome? Perhaps it is ultimatly why we all do it and, when all goes well, what we hope to give our audiences.
No comments:
Post a Comment