Saturday, December 31, 2005


A picture named theresa.jpg

Theresa Spiess (Montalbetti)
April 24,1958 - December 21, 2005

sister lost
currents run deep and quiet
a bond ardent beneath the pulse of life
voicing hope and strength your last words possessed a fierce caring
"saw the perfect gift for you" you spoke
soft, full tones betrayed all the suffering that tore at my gut
till when parting tears clenched my breath
echoing a merciless hollow cry

salt water flowed between us
now silence

flying to the place you called home
clouds below stars above

Is this what you gentle souls see departing?

hope rests resigned as if in transit
knowing redemption will come

i have no gifts and carry a vast void
an emptiness that embraces the living

memories soothe little
for the struggle whispers beauty
is to be present
where presence is tangibly lost

dearest Theresa
blood sister
ascend, descend, ascend
a thin rose line caresses the horizon between the sky and heaven
like a lock of your most delicate and fine red hair
the thin rose line
an angels path fleetingly clear fading into the invisible thread
guiding a tried and true love

eyes close in prayer
give peace a chance
to rest, to sleep, to awake
a new dawn born
in your eyes
sister found
at last
(morning of December 23 on plane to Hope,BC)

:: note :: . . . the picture above was taken a year before i left my family at nineteen departing on the journey called life . . . that was the face of the sister no matter how she aged i always remembered . . . an intense childhood contact was followed by sporadic adult meetings as our ways seldom crossed . . . many questions haunt . . . the largest being why do i miss her so much . . .


Tuesday, December 20, 2005

to dream the green

green green green
under a green banana tree
angels come & go

guardian flashing lights
flicker past into present
beyond to dream the green

dance dance dance
the steam off the water
the frost off the branches

dazzling currents of care
prototypes for new understandings
to the brown around the center of the eye

Monday, December 19, 2005

Word jewels

"Chinese poems are like strings of jewels."

"The jewels are Chinese characters, each of which represents a one-syllable word."

"These little word-jewels are hard and unchanging, but when they are translated into English, each one seems to have several different meanings."

". . ."

"The heart of the jewel never changes but its surface reflects the light in many different ways."(Greg Whincup. The Heart of Chinese Poetry)

:: note :: . . . reading the poems of Li Bai . . . Quiet Night Thoughts & many more . . . the above was written about Question and Answer on the Mountain . . . the link has not the word-jewel translation that Whincup creates . . . some poems are jewels . . . some days are jewels . . .

Sunday, December 18, 2005

Drama Journal excerpts

(from '05 class)

. . . For me, I was kind of confused as to what I was supposed to be doing. I tried working with my text, but I didn't really understand where I was supposed to take it, what I was supposed to do. It seemed that working with full power, really high was working for me. But still, I was confused. I decided to stay after class for the extra session. And I am so thankful that I did!!!

. . . It was great to work in a smaller group, to be able to see more people's work and how the emotions, and sounds, and actions tell the story. Raymon asked me near the end if I wanted to go. And as I was still sort of confused, I said, "I'd try". So I started with a vibrating tone, although, I didn't go as high as I could. I started saying my text and working my way up, louder and with more power. I tried to fight against my obstacle and gain power from that.

. . . Raymon pulled on my shoulder and pushed on my back and I fought against him. My voice went louder and more powerful. It was really interesting to hear it. At times it seemed disgusted, or frustrated. It had a quality I can't describe. It was strange. I reached this point though, where I just broke down and started crying. This was much to my surprise. There was just so much emotion and power and force and then BANG I was crying. So I said my text while I was crying and then slowly lowered to the floor.

. . . Raymon told me to get a hold of myself, which I could do relatively well. I don't know what I was feeling, because I wasn't "feeling" sad. So it wasn't difficult to get out of my tears. Then Raymon tried taking me to say my text slow and high. I couldn't really get into it. But this is something I will work towards. I am not sure I can reach that emotional peak by myself, without the physical resistance. It kind of scares me in a way. Although, I haven't been scared during this entire experience, which is incredibly strange for me. I am really surprised that I am not so incredibly shy when it comes to performing by myself. Normally, I would be incredibly freaked out. I am in a safe environment, and have learned the tools I need in order to do it.

. . . But I also think that I have grown, I have a new confidence in such things. And that is truly amazing! I am really impressed by my progress. This class has far exceeded my expectations, and I, myself, have exceeded my expectations. I don't feel like I have any particular boundaries or limits at this point in time. Or at least, none that I am aware of or have come across. Ya, today's class was really great!

. . . This class has been really great for me. It was paced in such a way that I felt comfortable and capable at almost every point of this class. I feel like I have really learned more about my body and its capabilities and limitations. I have learned not to be afraid to move my body and imagine and improvise. I am no longer afraid of my voice, which is quite surprising for me. It is really surprising to find that my text work is so loud and that it is full of power, which is not me on a daily basis. I have always been quiet. It seems like this side of me just needed to come out and was only natural that my voice led me in that direction for my text work. It is really interesting how your voice will guide you and will change your emotion and actions.

. . . I was trying to reach the emotional peak where I begin to cry. I found it incredibly difficult and frustrating. My voice would break part way through, and sound like I was crying, but no tears would come. I think I was putting too much pressure on myself to reach that point. I also think I was putting too much pressure on the wall, my shoulder really hurt afterwards. I talked to Raymon about my difficulties. He said that I should just try to reach that peak, that it is my goal and that it is ok if I don't reach it. This helped me a lot. It took away some of the pressure, and I could remove the pressure I was placing on myself in order to duplicate what I've already done. This is an important lesson. In theater, sometimes you can't duplicate everything. Each performance will be different. The actions may be the same, the words might be the same, even the emotions perhaps, but there are subtle differences whether it be speed, sound, or intensity. It's important to just let it come, to let your voice to find itself and to guide you rather than force your voice and body to do something that it is not ready to do. No two performances are exactly alike.

. . . I was so nervous before this class, I just wanted to scream to get some of this nervous energy out. I thought before class through what I needed to do, the motions, my voice, and just thought of ways I could better my performance. Class started, and we did our warm up of our bodies and voices. . . . When it finally came to my turn, I took a deep breath and started my vibrating tone. I started at about a medium power and ascended to full power rapidly and started into my text. I was saying it with full power, and imagining my obstacle of someone pushing on my lower back and pulling on my shoulder. My voice got louder, more disgusted and frustrated and even broke a couple times. Then I just reached this point where my voice seemed to lose its power, so I just followed it. My voice started to get quieter and I continued with my text, even though I think I was still going a little fast.

Raymon came up behind me, I never even noticed. He put my head against the wall and then lifted my left arm and placed it against the wall. He said to speak slower. So I spoke slower and quieter. Then he told me to use song. I kind of laughed because I don't like singing in front of people. So I made the voice more song like and stayed slow. And then we moved on to the next person. Raymon told me I did great. That is something that I needed to hear.

It's not that I felt unsure of my performance, but it was just nice to hear it. I entered this class scared and nervous and unsure of what I could do. Then I reached this point where I can use text, and movement, and where I'm not scared of my voice and people are telling me I'm doing well. I never expected that. I think I was more so afraid of people telling me that I was 'no good'. I had a fear of other people's opinions and judgments. Now, if someone tells me their opinion of my performance, I can always take what the say and use it to improve my work. This was a really great day, really great class and performance.

The Final Drama Class

We performed our texts again today. I didn't feel nervous which was great. We warmed up our bodies and voice. As we were in child pose, Raymon told me to focus on the part where I start to get quiet and into the song part. When it came to my turn, I started high and full power with my text. I felt that I was getting more out of it, really using my body and obstacle to get more power. Then my voice again naturally started getting quiet on its own. So I let my voice getting slower and quieter. I put my head and my other hand against the wall. Then I moved into song.

. . . I think we have all come a long way, myself included. I liked how Raymon talked about the last circle being 'the empty space'. Our first circle is filled with preconceived notions, expectations, inhibitions and biases. It takes the entire semester, all of those exercises, to get rid of it. We need to remove those things in order to be able to let ourselves act. I agree completely. . . . an important class. I am really going to miss everyone. There is really such a trust between everyone, and I feel a connection to each and every person. It was a really great experience.

(student entry)

exploding conversation

"What is more valuable than gold? Light. "

"What is more precious than light? Conversation"

- J.W. von Goethe

Emerging Out of Goethe: [PDF]
Conversation as a Form of Social Inquiry
Allan Kaplan

(via wood s lot)

:: note :: . . . pdf files (present personal technology) does not allow easy cut&paste quotes . . . Kaplan moves Goethe principles into new realms exploding conversation . . . suffice to say the ideas are a feast . . . & Mark thanks for feasting the eye with Klee and Kandinsky . . .

Saturday, December 17, 2005


"The idea of improvisation means that we confront ourselves with our own individual creativity."(EDN | Improvisation: Keith Jarrett - The Köln Concert)

:: note :: . . . street theater, teaching & listening to coltrane taught me about the above principle of improvisation: retrieving the mystery . . . spent the day reflecting, through reading exams & journals, a tightly structured & at the same time a purposeful improvised class journey . . . the thread between discipline&spontaneity . . .

Friday, December 16, 2005










yourself &



Thursday, December 15, 2005

emotions & thoughts

"Some people walk away from creative endeavours when they're feeling emotional, or by taking a break and getting some distance. Others use their art to process challenging emotional experiences; pouring their heart out into their work or using it as a cathartic experience."

"..."Many of the artists described highly creative times when they are responding to strong emotions and want to express them through their art [~] transduce them from one form of energy to another."

"...When we feel, we begin to be alive. When we express a feeling, we share with the rest of the world that we are alive. When we express a feeling through music, we invite the rest of the world to share in our experience of the feeling, and to be alive with us."

"...Sometimes I hear people say that they'll get to their creative project, their creative dream, as soon as things "calm down" in their life. And yet it's the creative process itself that's usually the most effective at bringing about the calmness of mind and emotional stillness that we crave."

"I think the sharing of feeling through various forms of creativity is the strongest tool we have for communicating and fostering change."(mousemusings|Emotions and Thoughts in the Creative Process)

:: note :: . . . (wish the citations had links) . . . feeling . . . the intelligence of feeling . . . the creative process itself creates feeling or rather questions/challenges/responses . . . feelings may be dialogues . . . sun&moonlight dialogues . . . rising and falling . . . ebb&flow tides . . . the creative process involves expression which induces reflection . . . reflection & dialogue on feeling . . . a dialogue with oneself and the Other . . .

Wednesday, December 14, 2005


"Beauty, it seems, is immutable, at least when incarnated - fixed - in the form of art, because it is in art that beauty as an idea, an eternal idea, is best embodied. Beauty (should you choose to use the word that way) is deep, not superficial; hidden, sometimes, rather than obvious; consoling, not troubling; indestructible, as in art, rather than ephemeral, as in nature. Beauty, the stipulatively uplifting kind, perdures."(Susan Sontag | An argument about beauty)

"The death of Susan Sontag, in 2004, served to point out just how much things had changed . . . She spray-painted on the walls of the academy the incendiary line, 'In place of a hermeneutics we need an erotics of art.'" (The Chronicle of Higher Education|Literary Aesthetics: the Very Idea)

:: note :: . . . last december reading of her death felt a sense of loss . . . spent decades perusing the thoughts, ideas, politics, essays & actions . . . always an activist & forever an artist she personified beauty . . . bringing beauty into life is a creative act . . . is generous . . . is a sensibility . . . celebrates . . . recognizes . . . whether it be four seconds, minutes, hours, years, decades, milleniums . . .

Tuesday, December 13, 2005

enigmatic form

"Enigmatic form is living form; like life, an iridescence, an invitation to the dance, a temptation, or irritation. No satisfying solutions, nothing to rest in; nothing to way us down."
"Meaning is in the play, or interplay, of light. As in schizophrenia, all things lose their boundaries, become iridescent with many-coloured significances. No thing, but an iridescence, a rainbow effect. An indirect reflection; or refraction; broken light, or enigma."
"Meaning is not in things but in between; in the iridescence, the interplay; in the interconnections; at the intersections, at the crossroads. Meaning is transitional as it is transitory; in the puns or bridges, the correspondence." (Norman O. Brown. Love's Body. Chapter: Freedom, 245-46)

:: note :: . . . do you know how to live with love . . . to give life & love meaning . . . provoke and not hurt or cause pain . . . the rainbow is broken light . . . does the light break willingly into the iridescence . . .

Monday, December 12, 2005

shu ha ri

A picture named shuhari.jpg

shu ha ri

The three phases to mastership: To learn by rote combined with spontaneity, to come to an understanding of the problems by constant practice and relinquishment of spontaneity, and masterly treatment of the problems and spontaneity on a higher level.

:: note :: . . . life weaves breathlessness these days . . . thrown into blood streams that swirl dizzyingly . . . trembling the spirits play . . . caught of guard nipping at the edge . . . a circle bead caresses the mouth . . . swallow the world . . .

Sunday, December 11, 2005

Documentation of A Ble Wail Reenactment

November 1: Rehearsal starts. I have used pictures from The Dream of the Audience as starting points.
November 17 - 18: Shopping for fabric.
November 22: Making costume and props: white dress, white ribbon, red and black ribbons and white screen.
December 9: Reenactment A Ble Wail Room 636 at 9pm Tisch School of the Arts, NYU.

I have been wondering about the title A Ble Wail.

Dictionary defines: -ble from Latin a suffix meaning result of the act of, means of, place for. A Ble Wail can be comprehended as result of the act of wail, means of wail and place for wail. Also A Ble can be read as Able, and Able means a suffix that forms adjectives meaning to have enough power, skill, or means to do something. So, A Ble Wail can be interpreted as to have enough power, skill and means to wail.

What was Cha wailing for?

I went to the undergraduate costume department in order to ask to use one of their sewing machines for my project and they were kind enough to lend me one. While I was making the costumes and props (the white dress, white ribbon around the head, the white screen, red and black narrow ribbons) I recognized something about white, the whiteness was strong in Cha’s work. In another of Cha’s performance, Aveugle Voix (1975), the white costume and props were noticeable. What does “white” mean to Cha? It seems to relate to the wailing.

In Modernity, Legality, and Power in Korea under Japanese Rule, Lee writes that Korean costumes have been banned during Japanese colonization and Koreans have been forced to wear colored clothing instead of Korea’s traditional white clothing (39). It may be Cha was returning to and recovering her Korean-ness by wearing white.

Was she wailing for erased Korean-ness during Japanese colonization? Or her silenced Korean-ness while living in America? Maybe both. She was probably wailing for how history repeats itself.

I wailed for her unacceptable death. From the beginning of the rehearsal her death haunted me.
Her death rendered me helpless. Reading reports from Belle Randall, The Random Murder of Theresa Cha, I could follow the time before her death.

She was turning thirty-one at the time in 1982. Graduated from Berkeley University with a BA and MFA and newly married to photographer Richard Barnes they moved to New York. Dictee was just about to be published. On November 5th 1982 at 4:30 pm Cha left the Metropolitan Museum of Art where she worked. She was going to meet her husband at his office. On the way she dropped by a gallery to chat with the owner who was the last to see Cha alive. Before dark Cha left the gallery and headed to her husband’s basement office.

Richard Barnes waited for Cha until 7 and by 10 he set out to find her. At 3 am he went to the police station to report her missing only to identify her body at the morgue. Joey Sanza, a security guard at Barnes’ office was identified as the murderer. He had officially 3 previous rapes in Florida and 12 according to the press. Cha’s corpse was dumped in the parking lot ten minutes from Barnes office as he waited for her. She was found naked except the belt and scarf around her neck and one boot. I couldn’t bear to imagine the lost time between 5 pm and 12 am. What had happened in those 7 hours became too far to reach and too hurtful to imagine.

Cha mentioned that in A Ble Wail “I want to be the dream of the audience” (Cha quo. from Constance). The screen may be effective for the dream. Something real is happening not in front of me but behind the screen so even though it is present it is filtered and distant. As a performer the screen gave me an enormous safety. Performing inside the screen I felt a tremendous freedom not as an escape from life but rather a revolutionary revelation.

Saturday, December 10, 2005

A Ble Wail

Dear all,
I invite you to my reenactment of Theresa Cha's A Ble W ail. December 9th, Friday at 9pm. Tisch School of the Arts, 6th Fl. Room 636, New York.

:: note :: ... :: note :: . . . am humbled by your following the destiny laid before you . . . congratulations with all the joy and love you deserve . . . the trials and tribulations seem so worth it . . . still much work as we breathe into Cha . . . take care & feel the support . . . & many thanks ben for the documentation . . .

Friday, December 09, 2005

intuitive thought

"2. Intuitive Intelligence. Intuitive intelligence is the ability to learn complex skills and solve problems on a subconscious basis; for example, a child learning to speak without learning the rules of grammar. The rules of grammar actually were learned, but the child cannot tell you want they are. This type of intelligence is particularly powerful at picking up patterns in a seemingly chaotic situation. When the right answer to a complex problem pops into your head but you can't figure out how you came up with it, it's probably the product of your intuition. Important: Intuitive intelligence is better at solving certain types of complex problem than our conscience, sensory intelligence."(Born to Explore! The Other Side of ADD | The Intuitive Brain)

(originally found at mousemusings Complexity and Intuitive Thought)

:: note :: . . . the practice: it is important to actually place yourself in situations which demand intuitive responses . . . to stand face to face with unanswerable questions & answer them . . . to engage in creative exchanges . . . i articulate this process as being open hearted . . .

Thursday, December 08, 2005


a cup of coffee
a gaze divine
so many thoughts & words entwined

kneeling rest the rhythm of the heart
for yours is thine to shine


Wednesday, December 07, 2005

poetics of space

"Immensity is within ouselves. It is attached to a sort of expansion of being that life curbs and caution arrests but which starts again when we are alone. As soon as we become motionless we are elsewhere; we are dreaming in a world that is immense. Indeed, immensity is the movement of motionless man. It is one of the dynamic characteristics of quiet daydreaming." (Gaston Bachelard. The Poetics of Space. p184)

:: note :: . . . when dreaming with the Other the motionless makes motion . . . a playful, prayful dance of intimate immensity . . . the Other side of dream . . . active tranquil dimensions evolving into vast perspectives . . . correspondances as transactions . . . Bachelard writes: ". . . two spirits that are identically sensitive can sensitize the center and horizon in different ways. In this connection a sort of plains test could be used that would bring out different types of reactions to infinity." . . . yes we may hold Blake's " Infinity in the palm of (our) hands" and different "Eternit(ies) in an hour" . . . so let the paprika plains exalt us & the plains river sand float fluid absent and nowhere to wide open spaces to calm and humanize . . . trust, concentration, respect and love . . .

Monday, December 05, 2005

creative conversations

"there are several things you can do to design conversations that matter: 1. Be present. 2. Work with real questions. 3. Invite the edge. 4. Pause, reflect, discern. 5. Harvest deeper learnings."( Conversation changes the world | Parking Lot)

:: note :: . . . saw this in action the other day . . . yet chris articulates the steps in a brilliant manner . . . in fact Parking Lot is a dazzling gem which when held in the gaze opens the poetics and practice space . . .

Sunday, December 04, 2005

as the curtain falls

"Last week saw the end of the mystical autumn drama, The Little Mermaid. It began six weeks previous with a small group of high school students and an exuberant young teacher with a simple script. No one imagined what complex and amazing results would come."

"Somewhere between the early line runs and the final bow, the spirit of drama touched our lives. In such a short time, this cast grew to a point that I have never seen before. It was a blossoming of talent, energy and passion that I will never forget."

"I have never seen a cast grow so much in my four years of acting. I saw once silent, serene individuals break through with new voice that shattered the stage and enveloped the auditorium. I saw characters come alive within the actor, as young women's faces filled with tears on that stage. I saw some, who once stayed hidden beyond the lights, break forth into the bright beams. I saw my fellow actors flourish in a way that I have never seen. Everyone reached new, fantastic heights: both as actors and as people."

"We were all touched in some strange, spiritual way. This performance shall remain forever in my memories: the thoughts, the prayers, the dances, the tears, the heart, the love. I have never felt love in the way that I felt it in this performance. I felt the love for another person: a neighbour; a friend. I have formed many friends in these last six weeks. I love each and every one of you. This piece shall live in my heart forever because of your work, your dedication, your heart. Thank you" (student writing in school newspaper)

:: note :: . . . neither will I . . .

Saturday, December 03, 2005

in praise of

A picture named inPraiseof.jpg
response fragments to dance performance . . .

intimate immensity / concentration of the wanderer / wisdom of the "old ways" & practises being passed through very specific modes of movement - voicing / correspondance of lyrical spirits / intensity of evolving / transforming intensity into being / the exaltation of space beyond frontiers

. . . shall articulate towards a statement . . .

Friday, December 02, 2005


trust falling into trust
feathers lifting into dancing
shells of heartfelt thanks
words of honour & sandalwood scent bathes the day

. . . sometimes when you just give others space traces of beauty follow you to eternity . . .

Friday, November 18, 2005

A picture named littleM3.jpg

this classic Hans Christian Anderson tale came as a gift . . . an unexpected gift bringing so much love . . . i remember being closed hearted . . . we stop respecting ourselves when we lose the heart to give & breathe to the other . . . a wise writer spoke that life has nothing more important to demand than the simplest of all stories - one person looking for another . . . each day the eyes of the other are written in the space of the soul . . . all the names of all those who dare to tread on the place of imagination are lifted into the tears that fall creating an ocean . . . touch the salt water . . . thank you for the journey . . .

:: note :: . . . it inevitably happened . . . a student just in passing . . . "oh I found your blog" . . . so if more of you come . . . hello . . . go see Little Mermaid . . .

Sunday, November 06, 2005

"1. Being Open-Hearted"

"2. Telling Visionary Stories "

"3. Offering (and Holding) Space"

"4. Grounding"

". . . this is the fundamental structure of the workshop."(Parking Lot | Refining the four Open Space Practices)

:: note :: . . . if asked to describe my teaching ethic could not provide a better statement . . .

Saturday, November 05, 2005

"Glowlab, a Brooklyn-based psychogeography network presents Open Lab at Art Interactive. During this festival and exhibition curated by Christina Ray, more than twenty artists will research the effects of the urban environment on emotion and behavior by leading a series of public events."(>>> context weblog sampling new cultural context |how does your city affect you? )

:: note :: . . . my city flows along the river & when connected to the water as it opens to the sky a vibrant & beautiful place stirs the heart . . . the trees are majestic & seek to clothe the buildings reminding us of the cycle of the seasons . . . & the snow . . . the power of white to change all in an hour . . .my city lets me breathe fully and allows a path beyond to the praire . . .

Saturday, October 29, 2005

A picture named globe2.gif
. . . students presented a workshop at the peace conference . . . created a performance working with the themes of peace, oppression and rights . . .

Saturday, October 22, 2005

"The Penelopiad: The Myth of Penelope and Odysseus by Atwood is a retelling of Homer's story from Penelope's point of view. Atwood told Reuters she almost pulled out of the project after she failed in several attempts to write about different myths."

"Homer portrays Penelope as the faithful wife who holds the country together and raises a son while Odysseus is off fighting his wars. When Odysseus returns, he kills Penelope's suitors and her maids."

"Atwood said she was haunted by the tale of the 12 hanged maids and her book reveals what Penelope was really up to. "The story as told in The Odyssey doesn't hold water," she said. "There are too many inconsistencies.""


"'I grew up thinking that history is the stuff that makes newspaper headlines and gets analyzed by journalists, while myth was something that primitive people swapped around the campfire. The distinction seemed quite simple," said author Michael Faber in an interview with Reuters."

"'Recently I realized that the distinction is nonsense," he said. "We are living in a post-Enlightenment era of mythology, a volcanic eruption of new legends. Savage, virile metaphors to rival anything from the Bible or the Bhagavad-Gita hold sway in our awed and anxious world.' "( |World's top writers recruited to rewrite ancient tales)

Friday, October 21, 2005

A picture named byung-hun_002.jpg

Byung-Hun Min . . . artistic statement . . . Nature in Korea is rather small, delicate and sensitive to me. I come closer to it much more easily. And I try to see it with a serene state of view.

:: note :: . . . found at wood s lot what has become the most important site on the web . . . a place to return to again and again . . . changes with the consciousness of the days and the cycle of the seasons . . . many recognized as another year passed a short while ago . . . decided to wait . . . glad i did . . . the above statement speaks to how to approach such places on the web . . .

Saturday, October 15, 2005

. . . Scorched Ice by Mansel Robinson receives a studied perfomance by Last Exit Theater . . . . . . the words are carefully crafted . . . the back & forth scenic structure drives the action past the target of the harrowing threat of nuclear holocaust during the Cuban Missile Crisis to a coming of age story . . . the voice of the play is strong and sure . . . rich & resonant in metaphor the sparse action is deliberate & evocative . . . the characters constantly tremble trapped or fleeing a harsh, inexplicable existence . . . the naive childish backdrop used to project the plodding of the nameless and phantasmagorical refugees or the universal night sky gives a luminous depth to the narrative . . . Yet . . . during my early training a wise man of the theater instructed: "cut the spoken which doesn't advance the action . . . let the actions speak" . . . a playwright needs to trust action . . . a director courage to keep the words on the page to release the action . . . the actor to play between the words to circulate action . . . the volatile nature of Scorched Ice demands not a well tempered serious reading but a free wheeling ride . . . Robert Benz, as the grandfather, held a flame to his hand challenging us to smell burnt flesh . . . lighter fluid filled the air . . . for a brief moment I flinched . . . took a sharp intake of breath . . . the lungs scorched . . . Skye Brandon and Last Exit Theater as part of the Live Five season continues to search for "new audiences" and broaden the theater landscape . . . a worthy aim . . . simply dare to risk more . . .

Thursday, October 13, 2005

"The Image That Speaks Volumes * Evokes * Provokes * Kindles * Awakens * Suggests * Stirs * Invokes * Agitates * Educates "( |Wondering with and about Images by Jamie McKenzie )

Tuesday, October 11, 2005

A picture named grafitti wall
:: note :: . . . nephew was in town . . . asked to be driven to "the wall" . . . grafitti artists had met and worked on this wall . . .

Monday, October 10, 2005

A picture named Serenate3.jpg
"A modern and ironic look at Commedia dell'Arte. Impressions from a comic and poetic world full of meetings and clashes that reveal themselves through dances and extraordinary loves."(Teatrino Giullare | Serenades)

:: note :: . . . attended a splendid performance . . . beyond words . . . beyond thoughts . . . "Beyond the barriers" pushed deep into the heart and gut to stir laughter and awe . . . from clowns of the absurd through poetic gestural language back to the tradition of commedia dell' arte the scenes danced, sometimes wildly and other times gently, around the place where theater eludes precise meaning and moves beyond to the mystery of the rhythm and irony of life . . .

. . . a brilliant bricolage where each group performed intimations of meaning about vulnerability & finitude and futility & fragility . . . archaically physical all the works were propelled by actors exploring an explosive dynamic . . . and there resides the power of "Beyond the barriers" . . . theater as search and serendipity . . . no piece was based on finding the right answer . . . what it seemed based on was linking to the next question . . . to curiosity . . . to tinkering with bits of stuff and the funny tools of theater like clown noses and puppets . . . to put that stuff together into entirely new and heretofore unimagined kinds of 'lazzi' . . . a dazzling afternoon conceived by Wide Open Theater . . . thanks . . .

Sunday, October 02, 2005

"The first difficulty that we face in order to understand correctly the workings of tragedy according to Aristotle stems from the very definition which that philosopher gives of art. What is art, any art? For him , it is an imitation of nature. For us, the word "imitate" means to make a more or less perfect copy of an original model. Art would, then, be a copy of nature. And "nature" mens the whole of created things. Art would, therefore, be a copy of created things."

"But this has nothing to do with Aristotle. For him, to imitate (mimesis) has nothing to do with copying an exterior model. "Mimesis" means rather a "re-creation." And nature is not the whole of created things but rather the creative principle itself. Thus when Aristotle says that art imitates nature, we must understand that this statement, which can be found in any modern version of the Poetics, is due to a bad translation, which in tern stems from an isolated interpretation of the text. "Art imitates nature" actually means:"Art recreates the creative principle of created things.""(Augusto Boal. Theater of the Oppressed. 1)

:: note :: . . . translation the bane of all research . . .

Sunday, September 25, 2005

A picture named leaves.jpg . . . leaves piling and running down the street . . . one of my favourite times . . .

Saturday, September 24, 2005

"A New York Philharmonic trumpeter who taught both Wynton Marsalis and Miles Davis died this week. William Vacchiano, who never missed a performance during his 38 years with the New York Philharmonic, was 93. Vacchiano became the philharmonic's principal trumpet player in 1942, seven years after joining. Philharmonic spokesman Eric Latzky called Vachhiano "one of the great trumpet teachers of the 20th century." His teaching career at Julliard spanned nearly seven decades. "(|Teacher of Wynton Marsalis and Miles Davis dies)

:: note :: . . . to all the great teachers of the great . . . more recognition and honor . . . thanks . . .

Wednesday, September 21, 2005

A picture named mwork9415.jpg

". . . the first-ever collection of Hiroshi Sugimoto's 'Theater' photographs. To create each image, Sugimoto would take a long-exposure photograph of a cinema screen for the entire duration of a movie, resulting in a blank white screen. 'Different movies give different brightnesses,' he said. 'If it's an optimistic story, I usually end up with a bright screen; if it's a sad story, it's a dark screen. Occult movie? Very dark.' The project was partly the result of wanting to make a simple form visible: 'The simplest forms have authority, like a blank white light. And how do you photograph that? You need a framework to make it visible. But this is not simply white light; it is the result of too much information.'" ( |Hiroshi Sugimoto Theaters, 2000)

Tuesday, September 20, 2005

"Within the new movement gained through elasticity and plasticity the actor must be a good friend of gravity and know how to play with it. The action in rhythm is to know how to express the inner emotion and psyche externally. Not a reproducing stereotypical gestures but a rigorous study about impulse, gesture and activity in order to transform those into physical actions. An actor's action in rhythm vibrates in the space musically which is in dancing-ness. It is a search for a spatial movement. "(unpublished actors manifesto)

:: note :: . . . more to follow . . .

Monday, September 19, 2005

A picture named chain.jpg

:: note :: . . . received this e-card from a MoMA exhibit . . . SAFE: Design Takes On Risk | October 16, 2005[^]January 2, 2006 . . . always thought of chains as oppression . . . not as security nor safety . . . hmmm . . .

Sunday, September 18, 2005

"'Teachers and students negotiate what counts as knowledge in the classroom, who can have knowledge, and how knowledge can be generated, challenged and evaluated' (p.45). We believe that the context for this negotiation, this social construction of meaning, is always one of power. The teacher and students-teachers inhabit roles that allow them to wield far greater power than their students in the classroom. However, they are also constrained by mandates handed down by the school principal, the school district, and the state. When they step outside of prescribed roles, teachers may be censured by their respective institutions and/or parents. They may be both oppressors and oppressed at the same time (Freire, 1993)."(Teacher Education Quarterly| Behind the Mask and beneath the Story: Enabling Students-Teachers1 To Reflect Critically on the Socially-Constructed Nature of Their "Normal" Practice)

:: note :: . . . masks and power . . .

Saturday, September 17, 2005

"First, a disclaimer: the following is a work of non-fiction. As such, it is unlikely to be as vivid, or textured, or as faithful to the author's deepest convictions and emotions as his own fiction, as linguistically adventurous or as revealing about the way it feels to live now as the latest novels by Salman Rushdie or Zadie Smith. I write novels. In fact, I just finished one, which is one reason I was alarmed to hear VS Naipaul declaring recently, in an interview with the New York Times, that the novel was dead. Which would make me, I guess, a necrophiliac. Naipaul essentially argues - stop me if you've heard this one before - that non-fiction is better suited than fiction to dealing with the big issues and capturing the way we live now. "(Guardian | The uses of invention)

:: note :: . . . writing short fiction this summer discovered the same result . . .

Wednesday, September 14, 2005

"Go get slaughtered and we promise you a long and pleasant life."( | The Rhetorics of Life and Multitude in Michel Foucault and Paolo Virno)

Tuesday, September 13, 2005

"Constitutions do not create our rights; they recognize and codify the ones we already have, and provide means for their protection. We already possess our rights in two senses: either because our ancestors secured them or because they are inherent in the very idea of being human."(Michael Ignatieff. The Rights Revolution. 28)

:: note :: . . . wondering about the rights revolution . . . the individual and the group . . .

Monday, September 12, 2005

"Ariltotle declares the independence of poetry (lyric, epic, and dramatic) in relation to politics. What I propose to do in this work is to show that, in spite of that, Aristotle constructs the first, extremely powerful poetic-political system for intimidation of the spectator, for elimination of the "bad" or illegal tendencies of the audience. This system is, to this day, fully utilized not only in conventional theater, but in the TV soap operas and in Western films as well: movies, theater, and television united, through a common basis in Aristotelian poetics, for repression of the people."(Theatre of the Oppressed. Augusto Boal.)

:: note :: . . . received this about Boal . . . (Dear Friends, Augusto Boal -- now 74 and in poor health -- has his pension "on hold" in Brazil. He needs emails sent IMMEDIATELY to the authorities in Brasilia so that they will act positively and give Augusto his pension. The pension has been held up for nine years (!). I am attaching a letter that Augsto's lawyer says should be emailed. Because the government will take final action next week, it is urgent that this email letter be sent asap.)
. . . the time is past and apparently the email appeal was valuable . . .

Sunday, September 11, 2005

"Doesn't it go away as time passes?"

"AS: No. The images of seeing dead people and the physical and visual memories of the terrifying experience are a deeply imbedded neuro-chemical pattern that won't go away. It doesn't work to try to suppress the memories, or to numb one's self with alcohol or drugs, or to relieve symptoms with medications. Some Vietnam veterans still had PTSD twenty years after the war as strong as it was their first year back."

"Is there no hope then?"

"AS: Just the opposite. There is more than hope. The proven way to recover from PTSD is to talk and write about the experience over and over. The goal is not to make the memories go away, but to gain control over them and integrate them into your larger life story."

"An extreme, traumatic experience divides your life into two parts. Life before and life after. Many people never overcome the experience and remain psychological casualties for the rest of their lives. Such folks allow the experience to become their primary identity and they often need help from others to get through daily life."

"The resilient survivors take on the heroic inner journey to get a good life back again. They talk and write about what they went through until they can choose when they will bring up the memories. By choosing to bring the memories back, you gain the ability to not allow them to become active."

"What has fascinated me for many years is that a few people not only fully recover from PTSD, but they discover that the recovery struggle transforms them. They become better than they were before and may start telling others about positive aspects of their experience. For them, life after is better than their life before."(Survivor|The Psychological and Emotional Effects of Hurricane Katrina On Survivors: From PTSD to Resilient Immunity)

:: note :: . . . lots more in the interview . . . lots of work . . . lots of listening . . . lots of questions . . .

Saturday, September 10, 2005

. . . this summer a seris of posts on The Experience Designer Network provoked thought around learning, education, credentialing . . . archived in various Themes they present wonderful personal reflections and broad experiential commentary . . . schooling is often extremely disheartening but the engagement with learners is ultimately immeasuralby enriching . . . to observe the transformative energy of dreams and imagination to release action and creativity can be humbling . . . i treasure this 'job' called 'teacher' returning each term to the state of 'beginning' . . .

Friday, September 09, 2005

. . . there has been mention of Jarry's Ubu Roi lately . . . in my first year university an inspired drama artist/teacher Raymond Clarke, who taught all the acting classes from first to fourth year, staged an unforgettable Ubu . . . it was a class exercise and the actors were placed in boxes . . . the exercise was to give character through box and voice . . . the result was a play full of ubuesque brilliance . . . many times i have sworn to reenact the event . . . years later my enthusiasm was considerably dampened by an equally forgettable attempt . . . a university production of bourgeois triviality . . . Raymond Clarke was one of those rare individuals . . . passionate, challenging and caring . . . his intelligence of feeling needs to be nurtured & sustained . . .

Friday, September 02, 2005

A picture named Rm282.jpg

. . . back into full term . . . all classes fully underway . . . the room is hot . . .

Thursday, September 01, 2005

. . . being away was good . . . back to the cycle of beginning . . .

Sunday, August 21, 2005

"Locked-out CBC Radio workers in Vancouver will record a two-hour program from the picket line, and three FM radio stations have agreed to carry the broadcast." (

Saturday, August 20, 2005

Montalbetti, Ko claim top prizes at competition

Montalbetti, Ko claim top prizes at competition
Jennifer Jacoby-Smith
The StarPhoenix
August 18, 2005

Musicians did Saskatchewan proud at the 2005 National Music Festival last weekend in Kamloops, B.C.

Two Saskatoon natives took top prizes in their fields. Soprano Ileana Montalbetti, formerly of Saskatoon and currently living in Manitoba, received first place honours in the voice competition; and violinist Raymond Ko placed first in the strings competition.

Montalbetti admitted her win came as a "big surprise."

The 22-year-old graduated earlier this year from University of Manitoba's music program.

She represented Manitoba at the national festival, but still comes back home to Saskatoon frequently.

Montalbetti appeared in Saskatoon Opera's production of Die Fledermaus earlier this summer. She will also return Oct. 29 to participate in the opera company's gala.

"I would love to make a living singing," said Montalbetti, "but I'll have to see if that's in the cards."

In the fall she will be off to University of Toronto to take their opera diploma.

Ko, 18, is a graduate of Walter Murray Collegiate. He performed Violin Concerto in D major, Op. 35 by Tchaikovsky and Sonata No. 1 in F minor, Op. 80 by Prokofiev.

In June, Ko received the Sister Boyle award at the Saskatchewan Music Festival Association's provincial competition in Moose Jaw, where he also earned the right to be Saskatchewan's representative in Kamloops.

The Sister Boyle award is given to a competitor who has demonstrated outstanding skill.

Eighteen-year old James Coghlin of Assiniboia placed second in the piano competition.

He played Etude Fantasy by Corigliano and Piano Concerto for the Left Hand by Ravel.

Sixty competitors, including nine from Saskatchewan, gathered in Kamloops to compete in various disciplines -- piano, strings, voice, woodwinds, brass, guitar and chamber groups. Entrants ranged in age from 14 to 28.

Bonnie Nicholson has assisted with local competitions for the Saskatchewan Music Festival Association in the past. She believes this may be the first time three Saskatchewan representatives have won in the same year.

"To win one of these competitions is very substantial," Nicholson explained.

To appear at the national level, competitors had to place first in local festivals held earlier this year.

National Music Festivals began in 1972 to allow young performers to test their skills against each other and be critiqued by renowned adjudicators.

The National Music Festivals are facilitated by the Federation of Canadian Music Festivals.
© The StarPhoenix (Saskatoon) 2005
". . . Montalbetti admitted her win came as a "big surprise." The 22-year-old graduated earlier this year from University of Manitoba's music program. She represented Manitoba at the national festival, but still comes back home to Saskatoon frequently. Montalbetti appeared in Saskatoon Opera's production of Die Fledermaus earlier this summer. She will also return Oct. 29 to participate in the opera company's gala. "I would love to make a living singing," said Montalbetti, "but I'll have to see if that's in the cards." In the fall she will be off to University of Toronto to take their opera diploma. . . "(subscription required|The StarPhoenix |Montalbetti, Ko claim top prizes at competition )

:: note :: . . . a bit of fatherly pride . . . well done and much deserved (from my perspective) . . . graduated this spring and now . . . nice to see a national award as she arrives in Toronto . . . best of luck . . .

Thursday, August 18, 2005

"Culture and creativity are the latest 'buzzwords' in the debate on innovation strategies for the knowledge economy. But what is the cultural dimension of the knowledge economy? And what does this imply for the public domain? "(context weblog|creative capital: culture, innovation and the public domain)

:: note :: . . . the words whether buzz or not take on a life of their own . . . they don't have the same meaning to me . . . when in Europe often wondered if the green I spoke was the green others saw . . . now wonder if creativity is a word i can speak . . .

Tuesday, August 16, 2005

made a terrible mistake
couldn't face reality
doesn't tell the whole story
nothing ever does
songs are of time and distance
the sadness is in you
there is only the dance
these things you treasure
are shells
you are someone else's collage
watch my arms

(early morning dispatch from Mary Wigman)

:: note ::.. . . last night was cold . . . woke up often . . . transcribed this dispatch from the place beyond sleep . . .

Monday, August 15, 2005

A picture named track.jpg

:: note :: . . . these tracks are a block away . . . twice a night the rumblings may be felt or heard . . . a comforting concept that flight is just a boxcar leap away . . . ha . . .

Sunday, August 14, 2005

A picture named abjection.jpg

"The abject, mimed through sound and meaning, is repeated. Getting rid of it is out of the question - the final Platonic lesson has been understood, one does not get rid of the impure; one can, however, bringing it into being a second time, and differently from the original impurity. It is a repetition through rhythm and song, therefore through what is not yet, or no longer is "meaning," but arranges, defers, differntiates and organizes, harmonizes pathos, bile, warmth, and enthusiasm."(Kristeva.Powers of Horror. 28)

Saturday, August 13, 2005

A picture named dietricholtmsnnd.jpg
"Sad to say, I suppose it's possible that the sheer penetrating vigour of the work in Within and Beyond the Wall was also a factor in its having been so meticulously ignored by Toronto critics and media while it was available. For this was no ordinary exhibition, even as my observations and personal experience suggest that to be reflectively penetrating in Toronto seems often to be viewed, amid local insecurities, not as a contribution to the textural resilience and sophistication of the polis, but rather as an affront to the perceived need for relentless cheerleading, whether of the urban, corporate or national variety."(Lear's Shadow|Representing Berlin In the Context of Toronto by Douglas Ord )

:: note :: . . . need many more studies of "art work" like this . . . a blend of informed academic, critical with creative, imaginative . . . written as a wonderful personal reflection . . . thanks . . .

Friday, August 12, 2005

A picture named raspberries05.jpg

:: note :: . . . for the record: 11 jars of jam, 4 jars of jelly, 3 jars of sauce, 10 frozen berry packets (for pies) & 6 containers of fresh eating . . . a good season harvested from my mothers yard . . . much earlier this year due to the wet spring . . .

Thursday, August 11, 2005

. . . son shares his dream of delivering my eulogy at St. Phillip's Church . . . just like you did for grandpa . . . "How does that make you feel?" . . . couldn't answer adequately . . . a while later a line from the past echoes: 'the sins of the fathers forgive the grandfathers' . . .

lines may 1st 1966

(from the sorrowful canadians - wilfred watson)

the sins of the fathers forgive the grandfathers.
the sins of the fathers forgive the grandfathers.
the sins of the fathers forgive the grandfathers.
the sins of the fathers forgive the grandfathers.
the sins of the fathers forgive the grandfathers.
the sins of the fathers forgive the grandfathers.
the sins of the fathers forgive the grandfathers.

the sins of the fathers forgive the grandfathers.
the sins of the fathers forgive the grandfathers.
the sins of the fathers forgive the grandfathers.
the sins of the fathers forgive the grandfathers.
the sins of the fathers forgive the grandfathers.
the sins of the fathers forgive the grandfathers.
the sins of the fathers forgive the grandfathers.

the sins of the fathers forgive the grandfathers.
the sins of the fathers forgive the grandfathers

Wednesday, August 10, 2005

A picture named outside.jpg
"The battleground, so to speak, is the interior world that ultimately resides in the soul."(The Experience Designer Network| Tension: Artists of the Living )

:: note :: . . . image titile: outside . . .

Tuesday, August 09, 2005

A picture named look.jpg
"But modern creativity theory argues that the creative process is as much an intellectual and social process as an emotional and individual process. As Dean Keith Simonton writes, 'creativity involves the participation of chance processes both in the origination of new ideas and in the social acceptance of these ideas by others... probabilistic or stochastic mechanisms operate at fundamental levels to generate original conceptions and to isolate the subset of these ideas that are judged adaptive by others -- and hence deserving of the designation 'creative'.' (2)"(artnet| The Matrix of Sensations by Donald Kuspit)

:: note :: . . . say what . . . title of the above image: Look . . .

Monday, August 08, 2005

An empty theater. On stage is dying

A player according to his art's demands

The dagger in his neck. His lust exhausted

A final solo courting the applause.

And not one hand. In a box, as empty

As the theater, a forgotten robe

The silk is whispering what the player screams.

The silk turns red, the robe grows heavy

From the player's blood that pours out while he dies

In the chandelier's luster that blanches the scene

The forgotten robe drinks empty the veins of

The dying man who now resembles no one but himself

Neither lust nor terror of transfiguration left

His blood a colored stain of no return

(Heiner Müller trans. Carl Weber)

Saturday, August 06, 2005

:: note :: . . . a couple of years back with the grade 11/12 class examining different types of theater . . . Grotowski's Akropolis & Lepage's Seven Streams of the River Ota . . . discovered they knew little about Hiroshima . . . spent a fascinating week fielding unanswerable questions . . . didn't know which was more frightening their lack of knowledge or disbelief of what they were learning . . . we need to inform . . . all of us at any time . . .

Friday, August 05, 2005

"If art is a way of knowing by doing then clearly arts-based research must follow this tenet of allowing for "knowing" to emerge out of the creative process and finding adequate ways to document this process."(The Journal of Pedagogy Pluralism & Practice Issue 9: Fall 2004|Artists, Arts Educators, and Arts Therapists as Researchers byPhillip Speiser)

:: note :: . . . documenting process with a sharp, critical yet understanding eye is remarkably difficult . . .

Thursday, August 04, 2005

A picture named caughtBird.jpg . . . caught (poster on wall photoshopped) . . .

Wednesday, August 03, 2005

. . . nothing like the blue sky of august . . . flipped me out . . . A picture named flingHead.jpg

Tuesday, August 02, 2005

. . . started with the body's recollection of being (david michael levin) . . .
the "Problem" of the Body
The Problem of the Contemporary Body
"The absent body"
The "Ecstatic" Surface Body
The "Recessive" Visceral Body
The "Aesthetic" "Inner" Bodymind
The Aesthetic "Outer" Body
"Chiasmatic Body"
(Theatre Journal 56.4 (2004) | Toward a Phenomenological Model of the Actor's Embodied Modes of Experience by Phillip B. Zarrilli |access Project Muse)

Monday, August 01, 2005

Saturday, July 30, 2005

. . . he'd been doing the stretch for over 25 years . . . well before the tensegrity magic passes of casteneda or grotowski's motions or the yoga class sun salutation . . . just a simple centering stretch . . . ruben, the slight argentinian with handlebar moustache and mischievous eyes taught him among many important lessons the stretch . . . died of aids a decade later in vienna . . . yet not his face that at times materialized in the doorway during intense work sessions and it was that face . . . the face he called godot which appeared at the window by his bed . . . lips imperceptively mouthing an unknown language . . .

. . . wait and watch . . . it'll dissolve into a fog of nothing . . . always does . . . not this time, coalesced into the eye of a hawk or some bird of prey . . . a cloud passed over blocking the sun darkening the room an eclipse of the . . . paolo was dead . . . partner, shadow, double, mentor whatever was . . . that's why the police had been there last night and she was calling and the face and . . . a certainty beyond intuition forced out an agonized moan: "No, it can't be." . . . the river . . . a drowning . . . I would examine the last moments days later entering his room . . . this morning nothing but complete emotional paralysis . . .

. . . the metallic red 'haulmark' was still parked in front of the express hotel . . . recalled noticing the shadow of the beast while locking the door . . . don't recognize the plates . . . what do they haul . . . needed to tell someone . . . maybe just wait for confirmation . . . cradled the edward hooper mug from the art institute of chicago . . . thick espresso black . . . 'Nighthawks' was the picture on the mug . . . discovered that on a blog regularly visited . . . ahh, lifted the ibook lid, hit remote access . . . should update and leave dial-up . . . time didn't seem too precious . . . scrolled down to image Self-portrait as a Drowned Man . . . mouse click: ". . . thus missing the opportunity to be recognized as the inventor of the medium. In 1840 he responded to this injustice by creating perhaps the first example of political protest photography . . ."

. . . a code, no an oracle . . . paolo lived the last year in amnesia . . . a synthespian . . .

Friday, July 29, 2005

. . . close eyes . . . afterimage of the multi-coloured kite hanging like a calder mobile over the bed fades . . . where . . .

. . . she was in berlin . . . back from istanbul and the bus ride of hell . . . accosted at the cheap hostel and street pursued constantly she wondered if it had been worth . . . where is he? . . . there was the amazing church . . . locked gate, under construction yet somehow they received permission to perform . . . expectedly enough she had fought with p . . . shouldn't have . . . knows nothing of the work . . . wants to direct of course . . . everyone does . . . said he was "helping" . . . feel sorry for him . . . not his fault . . . wants to be capable and thinks he is . . . hopeless and helpless . . . a grey smog hangs around the buildings . . . choke near vomiting . .. soulless and crying black tears . . .

. . . still no answer . . . she caressed the burnished glass nerve beads following them down to the silver metal tassels and was sure he would love them their myriad earthen shades each a mystical world dipped into a enigmatic rich turkish coffee . . . maybe he could stop biting his nails . . . she'd keep them in the tacky speckled blue container . . . he seemed to like all things blue . . . she screamed . . .

. . . does berlin have a river . . . always felt better by a river . . .

. . . that had been, what, two years ago . . . he could retrieve the emails . . . had difficulty deleting anything and made multiple backups after losing the first years of contact . . . crashes and panic had taught nothing is reliable . . . twisting onto his side, fumbling for the remote threw it aside before pressing power deciding to forgo the numbness that comes with radio drone . . . sun has warmed even this north faced room . . . "You with the darkness- slingshot, you with the stone: . . . how did the rest go . . . celan . . . ok time to smell the coffee . . . tongue flicked to the chipped molar not checking for any more damage just delighting in the touch . . . getting quite used to the the sharp fissure . . .

. . . cop in the head said do your stretches . . . that's where you are . . . in a stretch preparing intent . . . balanced, feet square distance equivalent to the shoulder's width . . . knees slightly bent, back muscles of the leg tensed . . . arms kept slightly bent and thumb locked . . .

Thursday, July 28, 2005

. . . the dream . . . cold, minus forty prairie night . . . brilliant clear sky, stars dazzling the driifting, deep snow . . . on an endless highway, maybe the yellowhead, driving a white suburu sports car . . . Imprenza . . . not really white . . . a horrible mint green the sales rep called 'new' white . . . speeding free and easy . . . northern lights dance above like that black and white picture on the fridge my dad took in the fort churchill days . . . on the right a deer runs parallel with me . . . fast . . . snow isn't as deep as imagined . . . wow really fast . . . then see the wolf tracking right behind her . . . take eyes off the white line to watch wolf close in and leap teeth bared . . .

... I'm careening out of control . . . car hit a patch of black ice . . . off the road into a telephone pole . . . through the windshield flying . . . blood . . . Awake . . . jeez that's not even my dream . . . my son shared that dream while on a greyhound bus travelling the 401 from Toronto to Ottawa about this time last summer . . . he recounted waking up at night and recording his dreams on a sony mini voice recorder . . . often couldn't remember recording the night dreams but what scared him even more was in the morning playback couldn't recognize his own voice . . .

. . . ten am . . . jackson pollack died in a telephone pole car crash . . . this summer feels like1965 . . . free from school with nothing to do . . . secluded . . . ferociously reading, riding my bike, writing, planning life projects and being hassled by the police . . . sometimes late night tv . . . only forty years later . . . could listen to the same music if i wanted . . . read the same books . . . parents kept everything . . . an easily accessible box stored in the basement with assorted pre-teen and teen books . . . harry potter in forty years . . . black panthers, crawdaddy, hesse's glass bead game metamorphosis into al-Qa'ida,, rss and pattern recognition . . .

. . .ten-ten . . . back pain . . . can't get out of bed . . . can't shake image of kafka police invading . . . can't . . . cell tones text message delivered . . . reach over to flip open: "Where r u . . .

Wednesday, July 27, 2005

. . . paranoia . . . at 3:30 am, in a deep sleep, am jolted awake by voices shouting "Hello" repeatedly . . . next moment at my bedroom door flashlights scan and blind me . . . two police ask who I am . . . "I live here." . . . "You live here?" the belligerent younger skinhead male, his blue shining form taking shape as I flick on the lights, asks incredulously . . . "Yes!" I shout back heart pounding barely realizing I'm out of bed, confused and . . . "Can we see some identification?" . . . stumble around, find my wallet and hand over a drivers licence . . . why am I thinking I should find my passport . . . "Someone reported your door wide open and we came over to take a look." . . . the tone is still belligerent . . . maybe that's just normal hostile cop talk . . .

. . . the little dick is feeding off my bewilderment with a tone of absolute authority . . . actually he seems scared . . ."Ah you see I just did the laundry and since there was such a nice wind thought I'd open the door to speed the drying . . . Guess I forgot to close it". . . the female officer asks if I'm not worried someone has broken in . . . her partner is already going down the staircase to the basement . . . "Mind if we look around?" . . .

. . . follow him . . . I mind and wonder where the police were the past years on the other five occasions when six windows were smashed and graffiti was sprayed on the wall and my car was torched and mail was stolen from my mailbox and . . . yes I mind but mumble, "Sure take a look around." . . . flashlights splay the darkness like all those CSI shows . . . sure glad the musician friend, a guest camped in the basement for a little while, is gone with all his uh . . . recreational sedatives . . . but then the door probably wouldn't have been open . . . they enter closets, invade the furnace room, assail the bathroom and head back outside . . . "Better close your door." . . . "Have a good night." the female says in a cheery salutation . . . she tries to swing the door shut but it shakes the railing . . .

. . . undo the latch . . . the door drifts silently into the frame and lock it . . . am stunned . . . try to sleep and eventually do . . . not before twitching at every slight creak from the floor boards or rasp from the tree branches rubbing the rooftop . . . suddenly a scratching metal on pavement shatters the early dawn light now brightening the room . . . someone is shovelling . . . snow in July . . . vaguely recall the caretaker from the apartment next door . . . shovels the walk at five in the morning during winter . . . it's him cleaning cigarette butts and fallen leaves . . . loud, methodical and passionate about his job . . . sheesh this is crazy . . . the dog across the street barks . . . her name is annie . . . still a pup sometimes she barks at nothing . . . close all the windows . . . pull the goose feathered duvet over my head . . . curl up clutching pain in the lower back . . . body has not appreciated bolting out of bed from a dead sleep . . . maybe need some advil . . . no . . . breathe slow and deep . . . sleep follows . . . dream . . .

:: note :: . . . this happened the night of the 25th after posting searches . . . paranoia is a cultivation of hunches, lateralisms, frank anomalies . . .

Tuesday, July 26, 2005

"Producing the sort of society which values music is more than critics can achieve. It goes to much deeper values built up over time and is particularly complex in a modern metropolis, which, of its nature, has several powerful forces which are somewhat antithetical to art. It also has the critical mass to enable diverse artistic activity to take place but, as we would all be aware, there are also many deadening effects. In the long term it is the art that is important, not the critics. Criticism is a good measure of social a democratic health but that doesn[base ']t automatically imply artistic health."(Critical Conversation II|Word without thoughts never to heaven go by Peter McCallum)

:: note :: . . . powerful forces that suck from the meaning of artwork/play turning it into a commodity . . . shoving to the periphery of survivial or manipulating the product for desire . . .

Monday, July 25, 2005

"State clearly that you do not consent to what the police are doing."(NYCLU |Know Your Rights: Stops And Searches On The MTA)

:: note :: . . . the stress of searches . . .

Saturday, July 23, 2005

A picture named windows.jpg

. . . deep blue sky
strong warm easterly wind
open all windows & doors
blow out the end of something
era? paradigm?
everywhere, the signs of closure. . .

Friday, July 22, 2005

A picture named graph2.gif
(from Tackling terror: five principles for a better future|openDemocracy)

:: note :: . . . attacking personal demons . . .

Thursday, July 21, 2005

"So, in the final ROM scheme, none of the steel will be left exposed. All of it will be disguised behind massive amounts of drywall or an anodized aluminum roof. There's too much to distract an audience looking upon an integrated truss system whereby 3,000 pieces of steel (each weighing about three tons) have been miraculously joined together. . . Not one piece stands in a perfect vertical line. Chaos and disorder have been bolted together."

"For Toronto, backed by the intelligent engineering of Halsall Associates, Libeskind is delivering the Spirit House, a towering, gyrating central void that begins within a basement exhibition space and rises up several storeys from the main entrance court. Libeskind wants to control the way that we think, and, ultimately, how we behave. Thoughts -- whether they be exhilarating or sanitized -- are easier to contain within drywall. . ."

"What's more, the strategy of wrap and hide -- the dishonesty of contemporary architecture -- is a concept that has grown tiresome for certain architects operating around the world."( |Raw metal)

:: note :: . . . wrap and hide . . .

Wednesday, July 20, 2005

"I would say what I do is [long pause] investigate human nature within a form which also provides a degree of entertainment as well. Or absorption as well. Entertainment in its broadest sense. But to write a novel is to set yourself on a journey of investigation of our condition, where we stand at this particular time in history. Or whatever particular time you want to set the novel."(The Morning News | Birnbaum v. Ian McEwan)

:: note :: . . . entertainment = absorption . . .

Tuesday, July 19, 2005

"Filmic kineticism attempts to bridge the dimensional divide between screen bodies and stage bodies. Consequently, in the work of a few directors, camera operators and editors they bridge the divide between the visual and somatic. In these cases a new spatial and sensual performance environment emerges. One that make intimate the act of choreography and dancing. In no way can this experience replace the live stage event, nor does it try to. Instead, another genre forms made of flesh and tape, of light and sweat. Physical theatre lends itself to such collaborations due to its extreme kinetic language and individual accessibility of performers. Each film bears the unique stamp of director, choreographer, designer and dancer. It is my attempt only to expose moments of collusion and empathy."(Filmic Kineticism in the work of DV8 Physical Theatre, Carbone 14 and LaLaLa Human St)

:: note :: . . . need to work on this . . .

Monday, July 18, 2005

""My philosophy is that education is a cornerstone of democracy, that we must support education as much as we can in every way possible, and that we must also be able to give our children the best education possible to develop their talents (and) maximize their opportunities to become very successful in society," he said." "In far too many places, teachers find themselves under attack, where curricula are imposed and . . . instructional practices are challenged by politicians and ideological fundamentalists," he said. "We must always be ready to face these challenges to advocate for our professional interest and be persistent in demanding the preservation of a public education system for all."( |CTF honours Sask. teacher Garritty )

:: note :: . . . a powerful colleague . . .

Saturday, July 16, 2005

"Selina, her husband, and four children are among the 1.2 billion people in the world living on less than a dollar a day -- what the United Nations calls 'extreme poverty.'"(AlterNet|Living on $1 a Day)

Thursday, July 14, 2005

"MY FAVORITE" WILLIAM GIBSON NOVELS ... Well, not that I've gone back and re-read them recently (or, really, ever) but I seem to be fonder of COUNT ZERO, from the first set, and IDORU from the second. COUNT ZERO because the ace cyberspace cowboy turns out to be, initially at least, a completely hapless teenage dork, and IDORU because I love the idea of a little girl from a Seattle suburb getting on the plane to Tokyo, having crazy adventures there, and coming back without anyone even having noticed."(William Gibson Blog )

"My intention is to not leave people who come into this world in the dark. Obviously we can't give voice to everyone, but our culture demands that we speak only of things of obvious importance, or of those who leave the completed work of art. But often - I could say always - whether it's a painter, writer, sculptor or musician, there are others who leave traces within any given work. You bring up Michelangelo; there had to be an apprentice who was moving the cans of paint or producing landscapes off in the atelier. Then the master came in, painted, retouched his assistant's work, and signed his name."(José Saramago by Katherine Vaz)

:: note :: . . . reading these two side by side . . .

Wednesday, July 13, 2005

". . . for the foodstuff never undergoes a pressure greater than is precisely necessary to raise and carry it; in the gesture of chopsticks, further softened by their substance - wood or lacquer - there is something maternal, the same precisely measured care taken in moving a child: a force (in the operative sense of the word), no longer a pulsion; here we have a whole demeanor with regard to food; . . ."(--Roland Barthes, "Chopsticks")

:: note :: . . . to take time to reflect . . . a gift . . . love using chopsticks . . .

Tuesday, July 12, 2005

fished forty hats from the cellar scattering them in the space at the temple
hung fifteen pieces of fabric from pole to pole
placed three baskets side by side against the wall
tossed one pair of mukluks into a corner
dangled a set of wings on the door frame

recollecting is gathering all the loose ends and bits of memory to compress them between the seer and the seen

a blinding stillness

Monday, July 11, 2005

"Urban Improv turns learning into play - play that can quickly shift from raucous humor to a sober exercise in making good choices. Serving about 6,000 students in grades 4 to 12 each year, workshops have been built around the potential pitfalls of adolescence - bullying, peer pressure, substance abuse, teen pregnancy, violence.

Educators have long praised such role-playing methods as effective, but only recently has research started to back up their intuition. A study by the Trauma Center of the Massachusetts Mental Health Institute, currently under peer review, found that fourth-graders in Urban Improv workshops avoided the sharp increase in aggressive behavior exhibited by a control group over the course of the school year. Participants also showed more cooperation, self-control, and engagement in class."( |Practice scenes for the tough choices of adolescence )

:: note :: . . . too many believe playing encourages activity . . . failure to understand the function of theater . . .

Sunday, July 10, 2005

last night on the corner of Ave. B & 25th
a drunk sreamed
"hit me again"
removed his shirt
pounded his open palm
smashed a ghost to the pavement
& stood defiant snarling like Ali
a car speed by shattering the twilight
the shirtless dark haired fighter
rocked uneasily between the cracks of the world

i couldn't watch anymore
wondered if he would go to the corner
where his shirt hung on the green picket fence
the nights are hot and getting hotter
the sun dries even the deepest recesses of the basement
the river flows mightily
after a relentless month of rain and run-off
sand clogs the water treatment plant
a water ration is ordered
no showers allowed
imagined being smashed to the floor while showering
instead wipe myself down with a cold wash cloth

in the morning the shirt is gone
the dusty parked blue car
a witness to the entire incident
is still there
the wild grasses grow tall between the fence planks
an empty bus screams by
it is midday
the sky darkens
how do we prove ourselves worthy of love

Saturday, July 09, 2005

"That's why I don't really like to use the words avant-garde anymore. I don't really believe in them right now. They don't take in enough variety.
Avant-gardes get middle-aged; they become the establishment. When one goes to the Brooklyn Academy of Music, for instance, one is likely to see the work of artists who belonged to the avant-gardes of the 1960's and 70's and early 80's. Some are perfecting what they've already done. A few keep on experimenting, while some are being better paid to calcify than they ever were to innovate."
(|The Avant-Garde, Rarely Love at First Sight)

:: note :: . . . excellent primer . . .

Friday, July 08, 2005

"Our culture no longer bothers to use words like appropriation or borrowing to describe those very activities. Today's audience isn't listening at all - it's participating. Indeed, audience is as antique a term as record, the one archaically passive, the other archaically physical. The record, not the remix, is the anomaly today. The remix is the very nature of the digital."(Wired 13.07 |God's Little Toys Confessions of a cut & paste artist. By William Gibson )

:: note :: . . . now must read the fictions . . .

Wednesday, July 06, 2005

". . . terms of boundary crossing, this means that civil discourse has not occurred if boundaries that define spaces of sound and spaces of silence have not been recognized and honored. Both sound and silence are crucial if the city is not simply to degenerate into a place of violence.
Finally, and most emphatically, city speech does not avoid argument. In fact, the rhythm of crossing, recognizing, and honoring boundaries is descriptive of the discipline of argument. (Remember the formulation at the beginning of this essay: liberal arts are concerned with discovery, appreciation, orientation, and application[~]redefined here in terms of crossing, recognizing, and honoring boundaries.) Where there is no argument, there is no civil discourse, and there is no city. Such a place is likely to be defined in one of three ways: either it is surrounded by an essentially impermeable boundary that excludes difference; or it is marked by violent struggle for control of turf; or (most likely) it is a mixture of both, with enforced homogeneity near the center of power and violent struggle for control of turf on the fringes."
(Radical Pedagogy (2000)|A Laboratory for Civil Discourse Steven Schroeder )

(via the daily read wood s lot)

:: note :: . . . speak but always be prepared . . . a speech act = resistance . . .

Tuesday, July 05, 2005

"By now, the actors are so familiar with their own lines that they started listening to each other. It sounds crude, but that's essential."(arts.telegraph |My week: Peter Hall, theatre director)

:: note :: . . . crude theater advice . . . life lesson be familiar with your words & start listening to others . . .

Monday, July 04, 2005

"In other words, a more detached and deeper reading of what lies behind the information already in the public domain will enable us to develp a grotesque, a tragic or an ironic approach in areas where live communications will never reach. It is our duty, or, if you prefer, our professional task as writers, as directors and as theatre practitioners to devise a way of talking about reality that permits us, with the chemistry of imagination, with the cycnicism of reason and with irony, to smash standardised schemes. In the way, we can encounter the programme and the strategies which the powes-that-be bring forward, and that is to teach people never use their critical sense; brain dead, imagination zero. "(from Dario Fo. The Tricks of the Trade. 120)

:: note :: . . . the next paragraph is more startling . . . wish it were on-line . . .

Saturday, July 02, 2005

"The photograph defines the space between image and object, between imagination and reality, between now and then, between space and time, between truth and fiction, language and silence and indeed between life and death. This is indeterminable, abstract space, the space of metaphor. If we remember that when we see photographs we are seeing metaphors, we regard them far more critically than we would as if they remained 'images'. News, documentary, advertising and other photographs in the public domain become exposed as a metaphor for our collective memory, which raises concerns about the potential for a subtle epidemic of viral mnemonics. We would sooner believe a photograph than we would a coin. "(new dentist|The Matter of Life and Death |Part 1: Metaphors and Memory By Ashley Whamond )

:: note :: . . . image as metaphor . . . image as memory . . . the conflict between memory & metaphor . . . whenever attempting to record with a camera not only is the moment altered but what is being recorded . . . how to see . . . what to look for . . .

Friday, July 01, 2005

mystifying alien landscape
renovated inscriptions
abandoned massacres
inert mourners with absurd delusions

a secretive drift of transients
with a shabby conscience compensated
in a dogged survivalist creed

be a problem

Wednesday, June 29, 2005

"I was interested in somebody who had lost his personal memory and was condemned to live within culture alone. It was consciously analyzing a risk that I run - and any person like me can run - to know the world only through quotations. I wanted to make a Gedankenexperiment: what could happen to a person who only lives through, by, within books he has read, without personal, tactile memories. And to show in which way, if it were so, you would be a person with half a soul. Because memory is soul - that's what I strongly believe."( | A&E |Vox Populi Umberto Eco's new book explores the merits of mass entertainment By Andre Mayer )

:: note :: . . . another soul work . . . building memory builds soul . . .

Tuesday, June 28, 2005

dearest stefan

A picture named grandma_stef.jpg

Dearest Stefan

From your powerful entrance into this world and from the first moment you reached out to clutch my finger with a strength and intensity of purpose I knew it was to be my honour to follow your passages.

Remember, at five, on the swing and you wanted to jump off. You pumped till it seemed you would create a full circle and you let go travelling so high that the landing knocked the wind out of you.

I remember.

I remember these past eighteen years & all that you taught me.

Now I invite you to choose.

Choose what you do - all your actions and intentions - with care and from the heart.
For you must love what you do.
When you love each and every moment then do it with passion.
Do it with a lust to live and grow.
Do it with a determination to fall again and again.
Do it with soul and the deep searching thoughtfulness.
Do it with the courage to fly.
Do it with dreams, vision and imagination.
Do it.

What you taught me most of all and what  I most remember are your embraces. That capacity to communicate the essence of your spirit by wrapping your arms around my being. The fervent hugs of joy and the genuine hugs seeking comfort. The sincere hugs of congratulations and the profound hugs of silence. You taught me the power to hug.

Thank you Stefan for all the adventures and I rip open the sky with a desire to watch you soar with love and passion.