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Short Talk on Chromo-luminarism Sunlight slows down Europeans. Look at all those spellbound people in Seurat. Look at Monsieur, sitting deeply. Where does a European go when he is 'lost in thought'? Seurat - they old dazzler - has painted that place. It lies on the other side of attention, long lazy boatride from here. It is a Sunday rather than a Saturday afternoon there. Seurat has made this clear by a special method. Ma Methode, he called it, rather testily, when we asked him. He caught us hurrying through the chill green shadows like adulterers. The river was opening and closing its stone lips. The river was pressing Seurat to its lips. (Anne Carson. Short Talks . Short Talk on  Chromo-luminarism. 15) - See: Artists Short Talk on Aura Drippings cause chaos. Ask Pollack before he crashed into catastrophe. Where does an artist go before facing death? Pollack moved to the rhythm of dark places. He splashed and dripped with obsessive precision marking timeless patterns that com...

Short Talk on Hopes Soon I hope to live in a totally rubber house. Think how quickly I will be able to get from room to room! One good bounce and you're there. I have a friend whose hands were melted off by a fire bomb during the war. Now, once again, he will learn to pass the bread at the dinner table. Leaning is life. I hope to invite him over this evening in fact. Learning is the same colour as life. He says things like that. (Anne Carson. Short Talks. Short Talk on Hopes. 14) - See: Artists Short Talk on Longing I long to walk the bottom of the river. Think about holding your breath for days. Or gills instead of ears. I have a friend whose teeth fell out because of a rare gum disease. He was Utnapishtim, the keeper of immortality. He taught the art of vodka drinking. I long to stay sober. Wisdom needs youth. Does that mean anarchy is a rule? what else can be expected from holding your breath. (Raymon Montalbetti. Short Talks. Short Talk on Longing.) :: note :: ... for Oleg ...

Short Talk on Homo Sapiens With small cuts Cro-Magnon man recorded the moon's phases on the handles of his tools, thinking about her as he worked. Animals. Horizon. Face in a pan of water. In every story I tell comes a point where I can see no further. i hate that point. It is why they call storytellers blind - a taunt. (Anne Carson. Short Talks. Short Talk on Homo Sapiens. 13) - See: Artists Short Talk on Imitation With short breaths the speaker recorded vowel patterns on the ocean sands dreaming about the other. Monologue. Dialogue. Echo. A singing bowl in a pail of water. In every scene there comes a point where action silences. I listen for that point. It is why Plato called actors fools - imitators. (Raymon Montalbetti. Short Talks. Short Talk on Imitation.) :: note :: ... learn through following forms ... see how far it goes ...

Early one morning the words were missing. Before that, words were not. Facts were, faces were. In a good story, Aristotle tells us, everything that happens is pushed by something else. One day someone noticed there were stars but no words, why? I've asked a lot of people, I think it is a good question. Three old women were bending in the fields. What use is it to question us? they said. Well it shortly became clear they knew everything there is to know about the snowy fields and the bluegreen shoots and the plant called 'audacity' that poets mistake for violets. I began to copy out everything that was said. The marks construct an instant of nature gradually, without the boredom of a story. I emphasize this. I will do anything to avoid boredom. It is the task of a lifetime. You can never know enough, never work enough, never use the infinitives and participles oddly enough, never impede the movement harshly enough, never leave the mind quickly enough. In 53 fascicles I copie...

... performance of Grass Jelly & A Ble Wail ... - See: Theater Work

- See: Education :: note :: ... the work continues ...

monkey mindfully listening to the double. hyena lost trembling for the hunger. eagle center reaching for the sky. elder humble servant forgiving the kind. - See: Education :: note :: ... students work to create mask narrative ...

Barbara Guest from Biography: A single seeming blinded object a sentence a voice the throat then the rushing. Sound rushing dramatic away from its disability there's a note selective. Passage without a pen through the hurricane whorl shell Shade Fictions dressed like water. (via Piere Joris | Nomadics) - See: Artists :: note :: ... found a whole raft of new sites surronding the passing of this poet ... Charles Bernstein ... Philly Sound ... so many primary, working writers post to the web ... watching the writers read/write ...

It murmers inside. It murmers. Inside is the pain of speech the pain to say. Larger still. Greater than is the pain not to say. To not say. Says nothing against the pain to speak. It festers inside. The wound, liquid, dust. Must break, must void. (Theresa Hak Kyung Cha. Dictee. p.3) - See: Theater :: note :: ...preparing for A Ble W ail & Grass Jelly ...

- See: Education :: note :: ... working over the break drama students complete film project Dark Inward Road ... ... excellent collaboration, exceptional student director & wonderful young new participants ...

:: note :: ... five days of workshop Dancingness, Singingness in Rhythm ends by the river ... laments from Greek Drama in the early morning on the coldest of winter days under the bluest of skies in the brightest of suns ... physical, vocal and imaginative play ... research guided by AeRan Jeong ... "being becomes human when it invents theater" (augusto boal) ... human becomes being inventing theater ... theaterness becomes beingness inventing humanness ... - See: Theater Work

N.V.N. There is a sacred, secret line in loving which attraction and even passion cannot cross,- even if lips draw near in awful silence and love tears at the heart. Friendship is weak and useless here, and years of happiness, exalted and full of fire, because the soul is free and does not know the slow luxuries of sensual life. Those who try to come near it are insane and those who reach it are shaken by grief, So now you know exactly why my heart beats no faster under your hand. (Jane Kenyon's rendering from the Russian of Anna Akhmatova via Slate ) - See: Image

Drama: Building a Language Theater is the first human invention and also the invention which paves the way for all other inventions and discoveries. Theater is born when the human being discovers that it can observe itself; when it discovers that, in this act of seeing, it can see itself - see itself in situ: see itself seeing. ( augusto boal . Rainbow of Desire) - See: Education :: note :: ... playing with Boal ...

She dreamed. I had arrived in Italy by bus. It could hardly be called a bus rather a cart with no sides or roof. We dangerously speed around winding passes and I clung to the seat in front me holding on as planes buzzed overhead. Just get me safely to the city and all will be well. War had broken out. Bombing could be heard throughout the Italian city. A foreigner wishing to flee the country I had nowhere to go. Rushing into the street hoards of soldiers swept me away. Fearing that soon I would be one of the dead or wounded I escaped into the nearest door to find myself inside a coffee house. "Respite," I thought and ordered a coffee. The shop owner informed there were no more mugs and seeing my huge disappointment she turned away and promised to look once more. At the table behind me sat a group of men talking. I approached hoping to get some information on how to leave the city. In halting Italian I asked what was happening. One of the men corrected my pronunciation. I aske...

barren white knelt to stir the river and the finger tips numbed freezing the lost tears behind the shimmering viel could it have been the before hand dispirited and broken reaching for dripping icicles forgetting past survival songs look to the sky the fire of new dawn swallowing handheld hearts blowing glitter embers on sand the stars shine these cold clear nights - See: Poetry

The Mask: Discover story. 1. Mask Intro The Universal Mask. The full, half & character mask. Experiencing the mask. Watch the imagination 2. Enter the Mask Trust in the mask & partner. Working with the mask. Trust the imagination. 3. From Inside Inner observation. See with freshness & clarity Feel the imagination 4. From Outside Seeing the mask. Connecting to another. Building imagination. 5. Giving Voice Voice the character mask. Transform the action Listening to imagination. 6. The Character Preparing a character. Creating a Role. Playing with imagination. 7. Story Narrative. Articulating the imagination 8. Rhythm & Detail Composing the narrative. Shaping the imagination. 9. Communication Sharing the narrative. Liberating the imagination. 10. Communion The mystery of the narrative. Surrendering to imagination. Dramatization: Articulate story. 1. Following the narrative. 2. Exploring, extending, expanding, and entering the narrati...

As the story goes . . . God seeing how desperately bored everyone was on the seventh day of creation, racked her overstretched imagination to find something more to add to the completeness she had just conceived. Suddenly her inspiration burst even beyond its own limitless bounds and she saw a further aspect of reality: its possibility to imitate itself. So she invented theatre. She called her angels together and announced this in the following terms, which are still contained in an ancient Sanskrit document. "The theatre will be the field in which people can learn to understand the sacred mysteries of the universe. And at the same time," she added with deceptive casualness, "it will be a comfort to the drunkard and to the lonely." The angels were very excited and could hardly wait for there to be enough people on earth to put this into practice. The people responded with equal enthusiasm and rapidly there were many groups all trying to imitate reality in their diff...

the crystal clear ice carries blue beads away petals in the snow incense fills an empty room heavy and torn to pieces the mind muses following curling trails of smokeflow a flower in your hair - See: Poetry :: note :: . . . time passes . . .