if . . .

... an open letter  signed by board members of the Conseil québécois du thé âtre produced this translation courtesy of Dayane Ntibarikure (PACT) and Gariela Saltiel (Segal Centre), with additional support from Mishka Lavigne in a post titled This is not Theatre ... ... having forged the label "educator of the imagination" to describe my work with students in the domain of theatre/drama or rather the domain of the incarnation of the imagination ... i take a paragraph from the letter ...  replace "theatre" with "education" ...  exchange "audience" with "student" ...  perhaps scandalously exchange "performing arts" with "pedagogy" ... now have created some semblance of meaning to my days of unknowing ... "Education is the art of gathering. Without direct encounter with the student, education does not exist. Without this delicious and dangerous awareness of the fallibility of the humans there in front ...

Another moment from last year at the rRemai mModern. We stood in a moment of meditative silence watching a window curtain flapping the breeze Michael Snow's Solar Breath (Northern Caryatids)  ... threw red balls BODY FLUID BLOOD by Puppies Puppies ( Jade Kuriki Olivo ) conceptual, performance and installation artist ... reflected on light gazing at Marie Lannoo's See Nothing, See Everything #6 ... ::Note:: ... video by colleague Gabe Penna ... a warm hearted, passionate educator ...

picture & writing posted on Facebook  ... my class last year ... even the guide was a former student ... the work at the back Fringe … (depiction of a Native woman’s violently slashed back, stitched together with delicate red seed beads) ... part of the incredible Rebecca Belmore Facing The Monumental exhibition ... the temporary closure creates a huge longing ... visits to the rRemai always both soothed & challenged the soul … photo from the rRemai April newsletter ... ::Note::   ... rRemai mModern used a photo of my GFA class in their promotional material ... even the guide was a former student ... the work at the back ...  Fringe ... from Facing the Monumental ...

(Director Notes for the show not to be.) A still from the archived video from tech rehearsal My sojourn with the present embodiment of Autobiography of Grass Tomb began in 2003 during a first visit to Korea. Fascinated by the rich traditional arts i searched desperately for a Korean play in English translation and successfully downloaded one from a site now long defunct. Grass Tomb by Oh, Tae-sok & Dong Nang Repertory Theatre of Korea was described by the translator Ryu, Yung-kyung as “personified abstractions”. A short read of thirty-five minutes made it ideal for research in university classes. I played with the script for a few years in first year acting classes eventually developing something articulated as soul work .  My partner AeRan Jeong, an incredible performance artist and esteemed academic, introduced me to the Korean Arts - the mask dances, Temple stays, Pansori instruction, Piri lessons and a vast array of Korean theatre from puppets to drumming. ...

View this post on Instagram Nominated by one of my dearest former students @empyclaw 10 day, 10 photo 0 explanation challenge. 10 times you felt fierce as an artist. A post shared by Raymon Montalbetti (@ifsphere) on Jan 28, 2020 at 7:39pm PST

Jessica a Ceremony is a reimagined reworking of Jessica by Maria Campbell and Linda Griffiths. The book of Jessica: A Theatrical Transformation documents the collaboration between Maria Campbell, Metis writer, playwright, filmmaker, scholar, teacher, community organizer, activist and elder and Linda Griffiths (1953-2014), a Canadian actress, producer, writer and one of Canada's most lauded modern theatre voices as together they created the award winning play Jessica . To honour the 45th anniversary of Maria Campbells's memoir Halfbreed (1973), regarded as a foundational work of Indigenous literature in Canada, the E.D. Feehan Theatre Guild brings you the story of a young Metis girl struggling to find her voice.  A story that resonates even more today. The cast diligently sourced the original script by improvising around scenes to develop their own path which they wish to share with you. We welcome you to join us on our journey. Elder Vitaline conjures up the spir...

... the huge yellow bellied bird flew directly at you ... it was early afternoon ... bright ... yesterday had been dark ... the clouds had let you sleep ... not today ... the festering open sore on your ring finger from the burn of many days and miles ago worried you ... ... the bird flew at the window ... you gasped ... it wanted to peck at the sore ... you clean the sore with your tongue ... you’ve been told saliva is the best medicine ... you don’t remember who told you or if it’s true ... still you suck the sore ... ... mosquitoes silently sucked your blood at night ... you wake to mounds of red blotches ... don’t scratch ... press your nail next to the redness and make an exclamation mark ... you’ve been told that helps ... actually you just made that up ... yet you believe it does help ... ... how much of everything you say is made up ... you peel away ... this is what comes back in memory ... let time slip away ... the will to stop dying ... you don’t care if you ...

... just finished reading Jacob Wren “ Authenticity is a Feeling ” on the plane to Seoul ... in fact read the entire book on airplanes ... what sticks the most is the passage describing going to a round dance: “ ... that this was what I’d always been looking for in art. The way everyone could participate or not participate, how the dancing and singing and drumming was just going on in and around us, part of daily life, and at the same time we were all always part of it. (Well… I wasn’t but everyone else seemed to be.) Since, of course, this wasn’t only or even mainly art, it was culture in a larger sense. ... I couldn’t help but think: wasn’t this related to what I’ve always been working on. A performative feeling of community where the performers were no different from the audience, where everyone knew the rules yet engaged with them in some way where the rules barely seemed to matter at all. I was of course watching all of this as an outsider and a settler. I had no idea what ...

… the last days at cite internationale universitaire de Paris  ... in the first floor apartment at Pavillion Victor Lyon  were bliss … the fever from the travels passed, strength slowly returned, pressures of the year evaporated and sleep returned … a peaceful dreamless sleep … the sense of disheveled and somewhat unpleasantness of June dispersed  …  morning strolls, afternoon siestas and night walks shaped the days …  … the weather was miraculous … perhaps a bit warm but the heat proved soothing … the bio-diversity of the surrounding park, the sky full of birds I could only guess as to their nature ... the gentle breeze ... were a cure for all ills … even getting caught in a sudden thunderstorm one evening proved refreshing ... the walk after the rain along a street of gardens was intoxicating ... the perfume of flowers and vegetables filled the air ... … the multitude of cultural residences never ceased to surprise with nooks of fantastical scu...

… after a delayed flight we arrived back from Casablanca late running to catch the last bus … made it … exhausted we went right to bed … well not exactly both of us …  i spent time cleaning off Ae’s table cluttered with conference material, programs, essays and various notes so we would have a place to eat in the morning ... emptied my luggage tossing most in the laundry hoping to get a start on that tomorrow ... looking at the desk I finally gave up … that required a major effort  …  Ae was sick the last two days of the FITUC Festival … she had gone to bed and stirred fitfully moaning the entire night … … eventually crawled underneath the crisp, clean white sheets aware of the beginning sore throat/fever/nasal congestion plaguing Ae was nibbling at me … dreamt … woke up at 5:44 am … the room was stifling hot … couldn’t move … every fibre of my body ached … it was as if each and every muscle had contracted … stared into the darkness terrified...

::Note:: ... thing about FaceBook embed is you must be a FB user ... this is just a placeholder till more appropriate time ... if it works for you then fine ... not my preference ... simply still digging in this infernal world of the web ...

… wait … before the banishment … everything came from something that came before … the circle … the red circle … walking on stilts … images of scholars talking to stones … ringing gongs by the river of forgetfulness … videos of a mask walking through tall grasses … a video … …wait … i was watching a video … i had been taking notes … it was a long time ago i had climbed a ladder looking for an escape … found … … remember … there were two ways … one to have a sixteen foot ladder and open the ceiling trapdoor or to lean a ten foot ladder and work up to the second shelf-like section to open the second trapdoor … i kept hearing noises and wanted easy, ready access to scale quickly up to the attic at a moments notice … built a permanent ladder … … wait … when the dreamer had asked about the video i knew something else was in the dream … something what was meant when it was really about another thing … when writing as the scribe it was necessary to look past the first given word...