Performance Eve
So, it’s probably time to talk a little bit about what I’m doing here. The project that I proposed was to set up light, airy blanket forts at various locations in the park where I would hold workshop hours. Some of these locations would be in easily accessible areas, others would be slightly off the beaten path, still others would be truly challenging to get to. During these workshops, which would happen over tea, I’d chat with people in small groups about their lives, their hopes, their strengths, their time in the park, their desires for change in the world, etc. With this information I’d improvise an adventure story that draws from the experiences of the whole audience.
However, the National Parks Service is a Government body. Of the people, for the people, and by bureaucracy. Despite my previous assertions at Ramsey Cascades, I do want to perform. Quite a bit, actually. Unfortunately, in the last few days we’ve had to cut down on the number of performances due to organizational time constraints, I’ve been told that I can’t provide food or drink to visitors, I can’t use any fabrics, I can’t set up off trail, I can’t set up on trail, I can only set up for two hours in direct sunlight at midday, who am I again?, “We’ll have to run it by Dana/George/Adam/Lisa/Connie but I wouldn’t get my hopes up” and “You should really talk to Jo/John/Kathy/Nate, Jo/John/Kathy/Nate likes things that are… different.”
The last one’s not so bad but this past week has been a little Kafkian. So instead of the cozy setting, tea and lemonade, intimate audience experience, with a well curated turn around, it’ll be a come-as-you-will, open air, tea-less free for all. Is it a bummer? Yup. Is it the end of the world? Nope. I serve at the pleasure of the people, and some people are a touch sensitive about what goes on in the park. I can’t really blame them, they’re job is to be stewards to keep people from messing with the land.
One of the reasons I applied to be NPS Artist-in-Residence is that I had a hunch I would want some time alone and with the company of strangers after spending two years with the same (albeit remarkable) people. I’ve spent two years on a group rhythm, one designed to accommodate the majority’s needs. However, I’m introvert, which, among other things, made me quite the outlier on the rhythmic scale. I’m also reserved and thoughtful when trying new things, which makes it hard for others to know or accommodate my needs in a group. So I thought I’d take some time to discover what my own, unobserved rhythm is nowadays, to see where my imagination goes when left to it’s own devices, and to flex my improvisational muscles in a more relaxed environment.
The pedagogy I’ve been immersed in since 2014 in is truly excellent at honing performance skills and I finished this year feeling like a competent, saturated sponge; full of experiences and information that needed to be wrung out gently, on my own time, in order to be integrated into my artistic practice. I also needed to find balance in that practice. My body is a more capable performer than it was two years ago but my mind is restless. The pedagogy does not deeply explore the philosophy behind why we perform, the study of how groups of people function, the ethics and morality of artistry, nor does it allow for the expansion of imagination beyond the very specific, form-based performance tasks that are set to us. It’s been good for me to absorb myself in product-centric activities, however, for me, the world inside my head is equally if not more real than the world outside of it, and I’d been shutting that world out for quite some time. I was out of balance. I am still out of balance. But the scales are tipping more toward equilibrium every day that I am down here and I have every reason to hope that tomorrow’s performances will continue that trend.
