Arthaus: The Poetic Body

 Arthaus day one:


Can we say hi to someone, then.. fly out of the window? Why not?!? Isn't that what they do in poetry?

I've booked my airbnb near to the wrong studio, so I am now in ownership of a cheap bike that gets me to the correct studio in 20 minutes at top pedal. It's not a bad idea, really, this is an addition of 20 minutes to my warm up and warm down, and I get to see parts of the city. Berlin is a city that respects bikes and gives them actual lanes, so I feel relatively safe while biking. I am reminded of how close and personal I can get to people, making eye contact with pedestrians, commuters and drivers alike. Saying hi. Then riding away.

There's surrender in being pulled. It's easier to imagine something invisible pulling, because it's harder to create something to push you, because that something needs to have density to be able to push you. - Lucy

I've been working with Tango and a safe push and safe invite for so long, that I forget what it's like to wander into unsafe territory. When I do look for catharsis in tango though, I do toe the line, but I have had occasions where the follower looks real stressed coming out of that dance. And yet today, when I'm pulling my partner through space, I didn't need to take care of her balance, she's out of her comfort zone, and yet there is no stress. Being pulled is more magical than being pushed. When moving with eyes closed, and I bumped into someone, there was a divine thrill that went down my spine when that unknown entity took my hands and led me away. I suppose in a certain way, when life has pulled me along to places, I've generally gone for the ride happily. Also, tango music does pull me to the floor.

How does it feel to be moonlight, streaming into your bedroom window? How about when you receive it? And how about the bright afternoon sun right in your face as you walk towards it? Now imagine neon lights everywhere. And a dark room where a mechanical blue screen calls to you. Fluorescent lights of a gas station, and one that never seems to be fully sure if it works.

My artificial lights immediately had characters. Loud street pushers yelling for attention all at once. A quietly insistent robotic voice whispering: 'Psst, psst'. And a confused time traveler blinking in confusion in the middle of a timeless place. I did wrap myself up in curtains staring at the moon, and while I wondered at my use of objects while miming (everyone seemed content with abstract movement), a classmate mentioned how the moon made him feel embraced. And I was satisfied.

Our first pieces: Fire and locusts. Moonlight to neon to handphone. Flickering.

We have 6 positions, like a score. Position 1 - where we were born. Position 2 - where we want to be born. Position 3 - where we feel home. Position 4 - where we were rejected. Position 5 - where we ended up. Position 6 - now.

I was born in Singapore, and I've always wanted to be born elsewhere, because my first instincts against danger and propaganda and useless success stories and creativity stifling and bullshit politics that they shove down your throat - is to run. I've felt home in NYC, felt rejected in Argentina, ended up in clown / lecoq world. And now I'm here, in Berlin. Looking towards Paris.

These are positions. Life happens in between. Move, enjoy the movement, then compress it into something. Essentialize it. Then make it bigger. Make it all into one movement. 

A three dimension-ed extension to the right, extending up, same extension to the back, swing a-forward for a how-do-you-do, then a squeeze and a nudge back to the left.

Pair up. And take your partner home.

And of course, life - and theater - happened in between these statements. I got to see my partner's lines, her concentrated energy of walking on the sidewalk, the escape of the roar of the city in movement, the little huddling for protection on the bus, the movement into softness once we're in the vicinity of her home. How it then opened up and became free, I saw the birds, and a riverside, we ducked under hedges in an open field, and then settled into the final lines towards her home. And then as night fell, and the storm clouds closed in, I laid down to rest as she pattered away the last remnants of her energy.

Tomorrow we will go and get lost in Berlin.

I can't fucking wait.


Published on
7/15/19 10:01 PM

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