All over the place, disappointment in me for not blogging every day about crush like I have done with every performance and rehearsal since SiWiC last year. I think part of it was the lack of clarity for me in what I was doing, that didn’t iron itself out until mid- the second week, or about 3/4 of the way through the rehearsal period. Then I was worried about the deal of having to make half of a forty to fifty minute work in three hours a day, so over-compensated and churned out 29 minutes of self-indulgent, sex, drugs, death metal, strangling and five minutes of proper dance.
I did say I’d subsequently write about it, so this is maybe some notes from the distance of a week (and a mere hour after an hilarious parallel reality audition at Oz Opera). When I was in Zürich, two things forced me into new territory. The first was simply having exhausted my tricks, the things I know I can do, the wide variety of methods for generating scenes, be it recreating parts of films, or even using various computer or other tools to make straight dance. The second coming for this pressure of exhaustion, was the endless demand to make things from widely divergent tasks, sometimes in fifteen minutes, every fifteen minutes for a couple of hours. No experimentation, just something finished, now.
Out of that came the germ of something I’ve been plotting since, I kind of autobiography, a solo that has several dancers. The trick is in recreating what was violently fresh and also personally very confronting, embarrassing, and a bit upsetting, I was also doing exactly what it was not; relying on my tricks, doing what I know.
Again though, the heart of the work was a couple of hours on a Saturday when I had the dancers give me a couple or several tasks, objects, things (photos, songs, a poem, a jar of pickles), something about love and grief, an to make something of it, this rather obvious conglomeration of meaningless things in fifteen minutes. It’s more that the pressure and the response germinated something new that made sense with what came from Zürich, and in that made the piece coherent.
Some of this past weekend, I spent buffing the sound on the video of my 29 minutes of crush, and while not watching it as either audience, or in its entirety, there is a particular flow or progression wherein I can imagine how it could be. And I really don’t want to sound more conceited than I already do, but it was eerie to see Wittgenstein resurface yet again, as though I am in a long eccentric orbit around Ludwig.
Here then are some photos from the theatre taken by the beautiful 郭芳伶 Guo Fangling, from TNUA in Taipei, who came over for one mad week and is a transcendental dancer.