A picture named kite.jpg
A picture named demolition.jpg
:: note :: . . . signs of spring . . . kite tangled in a power line . . . demolition . . .

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Heart Play

My thoughts are wounds in my head. My brain is a scar. I want to be a machine. Arms to drag legs to walk no pain no thinking. (Heiner Müller , 'Hamletmachine' ) Heartplay A May I lay my heart at your feet. B If you don't make a mess on my floor.. A My heart is clean.. B We'll see, won't we.. A I can't get it out.. B Would you like me to help you.. A If you wouldn't mind.. B It'll be a pleasure. I can't get it out either.. A cries. B I will remove it surgically. What have I got this penknife for anyway. We'll have this sorted out in no time. work will keep you from despair. Right, there we are. But this is a brick. Your heart is a red brick.. A Yes, but it beats only for you.. (1981) A beats B to death with the brick.. (Addition, July 1991). ------------- Heiner Müller ----------------- from Heiner Müller Theatremachine translated and edited by Marc von Henning
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A Requiem coming

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:: Note::  ... our performance group Untamed has created a piece ... coming soon ... after 12 workshop sessions and 15 rehearsals we are about to be ready ... a few more sessions when we return from Mongolia where we perform our signature piece " Untamed " ...  then " Abandoned: a thousand tongues" will happen ...   
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Untamed

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Untamed A piece to be approached as a poem. Yet there is a story ... The untamed, perhaps even called a 'soul' reimagines the past. Alone having left Korea, untamed has wandered foreign horizons. Releasing a blur of pain, lips call out scaring away the bitter hurt.   In early autumn returning to Seoul, a place once called home, wild faces the times. What did Korea mean? What does it bring now? The flowering tree under the harvest moon beckons. Tread softly for the journey has just begun.  Prologue  Spirit,  form the Koryo Dynasty, enters. Plays Buk & dances: cleansing the space. Exits  (5 min.) I. Facing the Past Wild emerges from the flowering tree. Finds a posted paper on the tree and reads  Yi Sang poem:   Flowering Tree / 꽃나무 On an open field      a flowering tree stands      with no other like it      nearby      the flowering tree blossoms with a burning heart      as if thinking of      another flowering tree      burns its heart.      The flowering tree cannot reac
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