There is something entirely erotic about the way the diviner's hands move along the straw mat, touching the shells and rubbing them with chalk, something that happens before the chanting starts, and for me, it's a little bit like falling in love, because at that moment, everything is possible.
For all the eves and the eyes that passed through these flying windows over the course of 12 seasons, nothing could light up the visions of a night like the promise of things to come, and when they are laid out in succession, there is hope and sadness; hope, because some of these things seem likely, and sadness, because so many of them are true. Touching the air where the diviner is touching the tongues of the Orishas is planting the twisted roots of the feet & the spine in the center of a hurricane (sometimes it's the mountain, and sometimes it's the sea, but it always feels like a hurricane, because the Dead always come to pay their due, and ask for what they're owed for what they do).
I want to write you the poem that only you could understand, one that speaks to you like they speak to me, and if it's like trying to become divine while inhabiting this body, then that's what I'll do, even if I am torn apart again and again. Because I love to write you poems, and the ones I wrote on your belly are nothing like the ones you wrote on my back, so we're still even, and I never thanked you for your poems, and you never thanked me for mine, love means never having to say thank you, or I'm sorry, because that's up to the Dead to decide which nights gratitude and regret come out to tango, shadows of the thing we were, or maybe we were the shadows of this. This is the night when the melancholy of the moon comes through the window and says that this is just another phase. But even in the smallest sliver, I see traces of you, and when there is no moon, I listen to your absence and wonder if you hear the sounds of me not speaking a word about you, and not remembering a thing.
This phase of the moon is the space where the shells fall over the windows of the year, and the story begins with the black bird that flies above me while I fly through the streets, she is haunting me because she sees another cycle of grieving ahead, these months ahead are like waves, and in one breath I find you, and in another breath you lose me again, and these losses are never forever (which I did not suspect), and finding is never forever (which you told me), but goes on relentlessly. You are so many people. I love your faces. I watch them rise and fall on the mat of the moon, where some signs I recognize, and some are entirely new, and there are those that hint at something entirely unknowable from this vantage point. Eye can't see, and the evening is fading, just like every other version of you that I loved, lost, and mourned.
I wanted to write you a poem that had nothing to do with you, one where you couldn't see yourself reflected at all, but all these words do is try to reflect, because the words are like shells, making patterns that you are meant to learn and understand. And I haven't learned a thing. Except. Your mother taught me some things. Those nights when I was out on the sea, waiting for the storm to bring the next landlove closer, and you were dancing with the ugly boys, she taught me some things. There is a stone in my mouth where your heart used to be, and there are seven signs written on seven bones on my back. They add to the songs that you wrote there. The ones about everything being forgotten, the ones about everything being forgiven, and the ones about everything turning inside out. When you crawled into my skin you stained the third layer, the one that can't be reached except by knife point, and there's no music without blood, and no life.
This window will open and birds will fly back and forth, and no one will speak a word, because there's nothing left to be said, because it's a story that gets told on the bones of the living while they live, pulling us into another story, another version of you and another version of me. You, like a cold baby bird in my throat, never leaving my mouth, and since I can't throw you off, I will carry you with me, until you turn into something else, until your faces become the faces that I can't predict, that no diviner could account for, and no Orisha would ever announce. You come without warning, a sudden storm on a still night, and when I ask how you found me, you open your mouth and take out my heart, and show me the places where I invited you, in between the lines of waiting and sadness, and when you say if I find you I will lose you, I tell you that when you lose me you will find me.
Saturday, January 22, 2011
Tuesday, January 18, 2011
Beginning of a manifesto of Prophecy
Invocation for a year to start, with outlines for a map to leave the shore and launch into the sea.
Theater of Longing: Done. Really, this is done. No desire to return to that sea or that shore (that's a lie). Have we mined it all to find ourselves comfortable with the one we found (the place where longing can sit on the tongue, burning words into the mouth without dissolving it?)? ???
Like grief, this longing, this one that stays, the one that lasts at the bottom of the stomach of the stomach (inux5), this is only and nothing less than the amount that we can still live with. No one of us is able to live with the same amount, and this is why we can no longer use the word we. We simply have to stopped, and this is why we no longer say "we."
But we long, oh, we still long, but not for the same things (a lie) from the same source (oh, we are so lying tonight!). Lying lied laying or well lain.
Theater of Death: Done, and not by us. (here, by us I mean we).
Theater of Death and Longing: Oh, this was good, and not done, this was sexy and spooky and reminded me of you (just like everything) ((and by you, I mean we)). Sexy & spooky enough to get all the spirits up and howling through the house, and they always told me to keep saying your name until it burned a hole through my tongue (but it never burned through, that was their joke). ((ha ha very fucking funny they are)). (((oh, this is already too personal, and i'm exposing too much, but here's a secret: I said too much to the wrong people, but I never gave them a glimpse of the best parts of you, because I buried them in the dark part of my stone heart when you showed them to me in the dark and by the end of that first night, when I was trying not to see your name on the walls in the dark I was torn in a thousand pieces in the dark, and put back together in the dark, and I will show you what they taught me in the dark when you come to see my new work in the dark, and I promise I will recognize you, because you know how I know how to recognize you in the dark))).
Death and Longing: this involves-/involved/will done has involved/lagrimas para todos involucrados-the future and the past, just enough, to lay the foundations for a theater of Divination.
Divination, nation, nation (better with the sound effects in my head, and pictures of exploding giraffes).
Theater of Divination: a place where multiple realities and levels of meaning intersect and interact so that the perceiver makes connections and recognizes patterns (and patters) ((but not like easy like, I mean, we're not going to spell it out for you, the bones don't spell words, although sometimes they whisper, "your lover is an asshole, and it's time, oh, it's time to go...")) ((that kind of thing never happened to me, though, and by that I mean we, and so, and so, this is not about you, and here, by you I mean my first real love, Kristi Cook, who left me because she did not like my Sam Cobra doll, oh, I remember, I do, I remember everything))
These patterns that the perceiver can recognize are in themselves the very act of divination, so they can see the patterns of their own desire laid before their feet, and reflect on where they are, and what they want, and what they have to do to get to where they want to be, given the circumstances (not so mutable, I mean, this isn't about creating a kind of art that tells people they can realize their dreams, because it is apparent that things are indeed even stupider than we could have imagined, and that our intelligence cannot save us, but it can make other things possible...some dreams are for the children, and some are for the ones not even born...(that is not a lie).
Death & the Unborn: (the love not yet is the one that we really miss, the love that is never born is one that never dies and that one can never be mourned...the love not yet carries its own seeds of death not yet, and if we live in the future as well as the past, we can mourn for the already even if it is not yet, but oh, "What a lover gives is better than justice." - Gandhi)--
The present, the performers or the perceivers, the land of the living-->mourning & desiring all at once, but also breathing, and investing that breath in this space, this place right here, so. So, so, so.
A cycle that begins with Prophecy. Taking the order of diloggun, and speaking as if from the mouths of the wives of Orunmila: Oshun, Yemaya, Yewa, and how their energies make them particularly adept at designing and divining futures, with promises, threats, and a deep and burning love (right through the tongue) ((I never met anyone who could do that)) (((if i did I would marry her, and by her I mean you, and by I, I mean eyes, I mean, just watch this next part)))
(not yet. not yet the next part. you will have to come back to see)
We are going to start working on a new project on January 20th, because that's enough time by now to say this new year is well under way, and so far is filled with tremendous hope and angst, and the ghosts that may come have already revealed themselves, and all the longing from the last year is dead, as dead as the dirt, where things come back to life.....o don't read too much into that, but there's so much I want to tell you, it's been too long since you were here, and suddenly, suddenly this is an art where lovers meet and say I am sorry, but they don't know what they're sorry for, because no one knew the future before it happened...)))))))))
Oh, oh, oh, but Kassandra does, and this next one is going to be about her.
You should come.
(yes, I mean like that)
((we can help))
(((and by we, I mean tongues)))
Lies<-->Revolve
Liar<-->Revolution
And I thank you once again.
Let's go.
Theater of Longing: Done. Really, this is done. No desire to return to that sea or that shore (that's a lie). Have we mined it all to find ourselves comfortable with the one we found (the place where longing can sit on the tongue, burning words into the mouth without dissolving it?)? ???
Like grief, this longing, this one that stays, the one that lasts at the bottom of the stomach of the stomach (inux5), this is only and nothing less than the amount that we can still live with. No one of us is able to live with the same amount, and this is why we can no longer use the word we. We simply have to stopped, and this is why we no longer say "we."
But we long, oh, we still long, but not for the same things (a lie) from the same source (oh, we are so lying tonight!). Lying lied laying or well lain.
Theater of Death: Done, and not by us. (here, by us I mean we).
Theater of Death and Longing: Oh, this was good, and not done, this was sexy and spooky and reminded me of you (just like everything) ((and by you, I mean we)). Sexy & spooky enough to get all the spirits up and howling through the house, and they always told me to keep saying your name until it burned a hole through my tongue (but it never burned through, that was their joke). ((ha ha very fucking funny they are)). (((oh, this is already too personal, and i'm exposing too much, but here's a secret: I said too much to the wrong people, but I never gave them a glimpse of the best parts of you, because I buried them in the dark part of my stone heart when you showed them to me in the dark and by the end of that first night, when I was trying not to see your name on the walls in the dark I was torn in a thousand pieces in the dark, and put back together in the dark, and I will show you what they taught me in the dark when you come to see my new work in the dark, and I promise I will recognize you, because you know how I know how to recognize you in the dark))).
Death and Longing: this involves-/involved/will done has involved/lagrimas para todos involucrados-the future and the past, just enough, to lay the foundations for a theater of Divination.
Divination, nation, nation (better with the sound effects in my head, and pictures of exploding giraffes).
Theater of Divination: a place where multiple realities and levels of meaning intersect and interact so that the perceiver makes connections and recognizes patterns (and patters) ((but not like easy like, I mean, we're not going to spell it out for you, the bones don't spell words, although sometimes they whisper, "your lover is an asshole, and it's time, oh, it's time to go...")) ((that kind of thing never happened to me, though, and by that I mean we, and so, and so, this is not about you, and here, by you I mean my first real love, Kristi Cook, who left me because she did not like my Sam Cobra doll, oh, I remember, I do, I remember everything))
These patterns that the perceiver can recognize are in themselves the very act of divination, so they can see the patterns of their own desire laid before their feet, and reflect on where they are, and what they want, and what they have to do to get to where they want to be, given the circumstances (not so mutable, I mean, this isn't about creating a kind of art that tells people they can realize their dreams, because it is apparent that things are indeed even stupider than we could have imagined, and that our intelligence cannot save us, but it can make other things possible...some dreams are for the children, and some are for the ones not even born...(that is not a lie).
Death & the Unborn: (the love not yet is the one that we really miss, the love that is never born is one that never dies and that one can never be mourned...the love not yet carries its own seeds of death not yet, and if we live in the future as well as the past, we can mourn for the already even if it is not yet, but oh, "What a lover gives is better than justice." - Gandhi)--
The present, the performers or the perceivers, the land of the living-->mourning & desiring all at once, but also breathing, and investing that breath in this space, this place right here, so. So, so, so.
A cycle that begins with Prophecy. Taking the order of diloggun, and speaking as if from the mouths of the wives of Orunmila: Oshun, Yemaya, Yewa, and how their energies make them particularly adept at designing and divining futures, with promises, threats, and a deep and burning love (right through the tongue) ((I never met anyone who could do that)) (((if i did I would marry her, and by her I mean you, and by I, I mean eyes, I mean, just watch this next part)))
(not yet. not yet the next part. you will have to come back to see)
We are going to start working on a new project on January 20th, because that's enough time by now to say this new year is well under way, and so far is filled with tremendous hope and angst, and the ghosts that may come have already revealed themselves, and all the longing from the last year is dead, as dead as the dirt, where things come back to life.....o don't read too much into that, but there's so much I want to tell you, it's been too long since you were here, and suddenly, suddenly this is an art where lovers meet and say I am sorry, but they don't know what they're sorry for, because no one knew the future before it happened...)))))))))
Oh, oh, oh, but Kassandra does, and this next one is going to be about her.
You should come.
(yes, I mean like that)
((we can help))
(((and by we, I mean tongues)))
Lies<-->Revolve
Liar<-->Revolution
And I thank you once again.
Let's go.
Wednesday, December 22, 2010
The Next Thing/s (2)
(Now it's getting decidedly stranger, a rainy night after the moon went and changed everything around, this retrograde Mercury is decidedly flirty, and carries lots of old ghosts on her shoulders, and she's dual nature, too, which means that everything that is Mercurial is more slippery than ever, but that could just be from all the rain. This segment was captured while doing yoga during a storm, but not like romantic and looking through foggy windows, but really fucking wet, out in the rain, to see if the balance could hold even here in all this.)
I: Thanks for being so candid.
CD: So far.
(This catches her off guard and she laughs uncontrollably, even though we all know this just wasn't that funny.)
I: But we wanted to ask about the next thing, more on that, but specifically, the next project. Can you talk about that?
CD: Interesting, mm, yes, mm. The new incarnation of whatever this performance thing will turn out to be, Revoltosa #8.5, or whatever whatever, is still unformed enough to keep most of that under wraps, but the projects, those I think are pretty clear.
I: Good, this is what's important for right now.
CD: What do you mean?
I: Well...in a sense, it doesn't matter what the vehicle is called, or what it looks like, but what it's doing.
CD: That's true, but if it has only two wheels instead of the usual four, that's going to be important, because we either need an air freshener, or there's no rear view mirror, and we don't.
I: Why an air freshener?
CD: Every car has one.
(She wants to get the joke, but again, it's not that funny.)
I: The road is more important than the thing you travel on.
CD: Huh, that sounds true. I guess that's really the most important thing, these days, where the good and the bad are kind of jumbled up in each other, best friends are worst enemies, and the ones that got written off suddenly start to show their flare, and right and wrong are under suspicion for impersonating each other. But some things just feel true. You know what I mean? It just feels true, and if it does, that's enough for me, and I trust it.
I: Totally trust it?
CD: Well, as much as possible, I mean, enough to play the role as its given. So, we're looking at Cassandra.
I: Another Greek thing.
CD: I know! Weird, huh? They keep speaking to me, because the stories are so dense, and because it's easy to remember them, because of the history of oral tradition, which is very important to me, of course, and because wikipedia is so succinct in milking the life out of things so that they're easy to consume, all these things play a part.
I: What about Cassandra, specifically?
CD: It has to do with the whole thing about knowing the future and no one believing you, that whole curse. I mean, I've studied it for years, but wikipedia reminded me that Apollo plays a big part, like he gave her the gift of prophecy, but she was supposed to sleep with him. But instead, she spits in his mouth, and then he makes it so that no one believes her. I mean, what an asshole. He's a god, and the big rational one, too, so he could like, well, it can't be hard for him to find somebody else, I mean, and just move on. But instead he curses her. That's interesting to me. But even more, the idea of divination, the Lucumi tradition invokes a lot of divination, and the sacred text there is oral, too, so it has concentric circles, that I also like. But there's this question I have, about how, if you know something is going to happen, and you try to stop it, but the people it's going to hurt the most don't believe you, then what's it for? What's this information for? Because there's a sense that at least some things are predetermined, and if those things are known through divination, then the divination is also predetermined, and maybe the part about no one believing you is also pre-determined.
I: Interesting and it sounds like there should be lots of grants for this, or people who hear about it should decide to donate lots of money to the project.
CD: Ni modo.
I: And it's also telling that this one isn't another project about doomed love or desire or bla bla bla.
CD: Right. We're staying away from that altogether. Except for the thing about Cassandra and Apollo, which is really central to it, and uh, there's stuff with Agememnon who falls in love with her, and uh, well, it's pretty sticky, and I guess it has everything to do with doomed love and desire, too.
I: Well, that does make sense, in a sense.
(Now he laughs uncontrollably, even though it wasn't all that funny, but there's electricity here that we can't possibly see.)
I: Because all stories are songs, and all songs are the same song, and it's always a love song. Tragedies are more interesting, because love stories that turn out well are just--
CD:--Pornography.
I:--Pornography, exactly, jinx, buy me a coke.
(They share a nice laugh but then it gets uncomfortably quiet, and the rain starts to pick up, and it's the beginning of a very wet winter.)
I: Thanks for being so candid.
CD: So far.
(This catches her off guard and she laughs uncontrollably, even though we all know this just wasn't that funny.)
I: But we wanted to ask about the next thing, more on that, but specifically, the next project. Can you talk about that?
CD: Interesting, mm, yes, mm. The new incarnation of whatever this performance thing will turn out to be, Revoltosa #8.5, or whatever whatever, is still unformed enough to keep most of that under wraps, but the projects, those I think are pretty clear.
I: Good, this is what's important for right now.
CD: What do you mean?
I: Well...in a sense, it doesn't matter what the vehicle is called, or what it looks like, but what it's doing.
CD: That's true, but if it has only two wheels instead of the usual four, that's going to be important, because we either need an air freshener, or there's no rear view mirror, and we don't.
I: Why an air freshener?
CD: Every car has one.
(She wants to get the joke, but again, it's not that funny.)
I: The road is more important than the thing you travel on.
CD: Huh, that sounds true. I guess that's really the most important thing, these days, where the good and the bad are kind of jumbled up in each other, best friends are worst enemies, and the ones that got written off suddenly start to show their flare, and right and wrong are under suspicion for impersonating each other. But some things just feel true. You know what I mean? It just feels true, and if it does, that's enough for me, and I trust it.
I: Totally trust it?
CD: Well, as much as possible, I mean, enough to play the role as its given. So, we're looking at Cassandra.
I: Another Greek thing.
CD: I know! Weird, huh? They keep speaking to me, because the stories are so dense, and because it's easy to remember them, because of the history of oral tradition, which is very important to me, of course, and because wikipedia is so succinct in milking the life out of things so that they're easy to consume, all these things play a part.
I: What about Cassandra, specifically?
CD: It has to do with the whole thing about knowing the future and no one believing you, that whole curse. I mean, I've studied it for years, but wikipedia reminded me that Apollo plays a big part, like he gave her the gift of prophecy, but she was supposed to sleep with him. But instead, she spits in his mouth, and then he makes it so that no one believes her. I mean, what an asshole. He's a god, and the big rational one, too, so he could like, well, it can't be hard for him to find somebody else, I mean, and just move on. But instead he curses her. That's interesting to me. But even more, the idea of divination, the Lucumi tradition invokes a lot of divination, and the sacred text there is oral, too, so it has concentric circles, that I also like. But there's this question I have, about how, if you know something is going to happen, and you try to stop it, but the people it's going to hurt the most don't believe you, then what's it for? What's this information for? Because there's a sense that at least some things are predetermined, and if those things are known through divination, then the divination is also predetermined, and maybe the part about no one believing you is also pre-determined.
I: Interesting and it sounds like there should be lots of grants for this, or people who hear about it should decide to donate lots of money to the project.
CD: Ni modo.
I: And it's also telling that this one isn't another project about doomed love or desire or bla bla bla.
CD: Right. We're staying away from that altogether. Except for the thing about Cassandra and Apollo, which is really central to it, and uh, there's stuff with Agememnon who falls in love with her, and uh, well, it's pretty sticky, and I guess it has everything to do with doomed love and desire, too.
I: Well, that does make sense, in a sense.
(Now he laughs uncontrollably, even though it wasn't all that funny, but there's electricity here that we can't possibly see.)
I: Because all stories are songs, and all songs are the same song, and it's always a love song. Tragedies are more interesting, because love stories that turn out well are just--
CD:--Pornography.
I:--Pornography, exactly, jinx, buy me a coke.
(They share a nice laugh but then it gets uncomfortably quiet, and the rain starts to pick up, and it's the beginning of a very wet winter.)
Sunday, December 19, 2010
The Next Thing
(This is an excerpt of the first part of an interview with the founder of TIMB, about the new direction of TIMB. In this, he is remarkably candid, but always a gentleman, using a discretion and charm that is unusual for someone of his generation, suggesting one of the reasons, perhaps, why he is always involved in new adventures, even though he is old enough to be your father. This particular interview was conducted right after he finished a long ride to Vancouver and back for a double espresso. On the way, he was abducted by a woman who claimed to have Gypsy blood--she did, actually--and introduced him to a talking cow who told his future. It was not a particularly comfortable future, but the hoofmarks indicated that there would be hints of cardemon and sandalwood on the road, along with a jasmine undertone, and that seemed evidence enough that continuing on the road would be a good idea.)
INTERVIEWING SPEAKING SUBJECT: Ok, first, we want to ask about the new direction of TIMB.
CD: That's a good place to start. It's direction is very clear, and in a state of non-direction.
ISS: Meaning?
CD: It's done. We've pretty much wrapped it up, and by the end of the year, it won't be.
ISS: That seems a little drastic, all things considered.
CD: Why?
ISS: Well, as far as these things go, I mean, an experimental performance operation in Phoenix, it's been rather successful, hasn't it?
CD: Oh, well, that's nice of you to say, but really, in the end, not so much. These last couple of years have seen a pretty substantial decrease in funding, grant-wise, and that's been enough to suggest that the city simply can't support it. We're shutting the doors and moving on, and right now we're all looking at what the next project will be.
ISS: So it's not really over.
CD: Art isn't over, no, not what we do, the close circle of collaborators, no, we're going to be doing other things, but under different auspices. Look, this is something that didn't come easy, I mean, it wasn't a simple decision, but it's obviously the end of the cycle of whatever it was, and this is the start of a new cycle, so we're all more excited about the next thing, which is still undefined.
ISS: Can you give us an idea of what it might be?
CD: Well, we've been playing with names, and it has to be something that reflects the trans-disciplinary nature of what we're doing, not so much theater, but still, closer to theater than most other art forms we use. But it's been moving toward a more mediated form, with more recorded media, for a long time. So we want to call it something extremely hip, and perhaps even impenetrable, so that no one will really understand what we're doing, not even us.
ISS: What names are you considering?
CD: The favorites so far are "The xx," and Erikah Badu, but there may be copyright issues. We're also thinking about "El 28," because of that song.
ISS: By Oreja de Van Gogh.
CD: Exactly.
ISS: That's such a sad song, do you know the lyrics off the top of your head?
CD: Of course. They're like this: nerviosa miro el reloj ,
la lluvia conmigo empieza
un día de pleno sol,
a lo lejos aparece el
recuerdo de un amor,
no me ve, camina
ausente, hace mucho que pasó.
Empecé a recordar.
Y paseé
por mi mente y encontré,
aquel rincón que te dejé,
donde guardo los
momentos que no olvidé.
Revivo aquella noche en que
olvidamos lo demás,
el cielo se volvió rojo al sol
vimos bostezar,
se ha perdido entre la gente,
me he perdido yo también,
ya se ha ido el 28 la memoria de
un ayer.
Empecé a recordar
Y paseé
por mi mente y encontré,
aquel rincón que te dejé,
donde guardo los momentos
que no olvidé.
Si quiero saber, si tú también,
recuerdas algo de aquel café,
espero a veces sin entender,
por qué.
Y paseé
por mi mente y encontré,
aquel rincón que te dejé,
donde guardo los momentos que
no olvidé.
ISS: Well, that makes sense, but it seems to me that this might be just another regurgitation of the themes of longing and impossible love, and there's something here about nostalgia that strikes me as a little problematic, especially considering the crimes against humanity from the 20th and 21st centuries, the history of world holocausts, as well as their relationship to Latin America, and particularly its under-representation in the dominant discourses of resistance and memory.
CD: I know, right? But there's also something about the song that's very corny, and that's why we're looking at other names, and that's why lately we're starting to think about something simple, like Angry and Crazy.
ISS: That's particularly interesting, considering the criticisms against you about your being somewhat infatuated, or obsessed, or maybe fixated, on angry and insane women.
CD: Who says that?
ISS: I've heard things.
CD: Ok, listen, I'm very uncomfortable about putting my personal life in all of this, because I firmly believe that the line between art and life is very fixed. I mean, my work has nothing to do with me, not at all, otherwise this would be a huge experiment in narcissism.
ISS: Didn't you once say that all art is narcissism?
CD: That's true, I did, oh, that's very true, yes. Hm. Well. In that case, the line between art and life is very thin, it's thinner than a mirror, the one that separates us from our text messages, and those of course are where life becomes a performance.
ISS: I don't follow.
CD: It doesn't matter, you will some day. For now, it's probably important to unpack some of that. Angry and insane are things that I've always been attracted to, because that's me. That's who I am. Angry, all of our work, all of the collaborators, we're angry, angry because this is a place of enormous potential, where the multiple identities, cultural, sexual, even historical, that are both migratory in this space, and also indigenous, means that there is fertile ground for some extraordinary art, and still, it gets swept under the rugs because it makes the majority uncomfortable. Also, we're angry because we sense that there is a deep connection to the land that, if approached, not necessarily even embraced, but just approached, would mean a revolution in thought and feeling, and that experience is one that is hard to speak about in art, unless the viewer already has some sense of it, but there's so very little sense here, that well.
ISS: It's maddening.
CD: Right. And that's where anger turns to madness. I know people think we're crazy, and I hear it all the time, where I make art that is way over everyone's head, as if I'm trying to be smart on purpose, to make people feel dumb, and we use this madness to confuse people, but the truth is, people are not stupid. Not even here. They're just not stupid. And they deserve art that respects their abilities to comprehend, on deeper and more complex levels than they are usually accustomed to. I suppose that's true here as well as anywhere. So, they don't understand, and then they come up with the label crazy. I'm not crazy, at least on most days, but I can see further than most people. To repeat: I'm not crazy, I can just see very far. And sometimes I can see your soul. So most of the work is speaking to that thing that's far away, or perhaps even deep within, you know?
ISS: No, you lost me.
CD: There are people who are very confused, indecisive, stuck, because they know that deep in the marrow of their bones that this experience of living is more that is apparent, more than what's on the surface, that somewhere else, there are shadows of ourselves living out our lives on a mythic level, one that is entirely corporeal and simultaneously entirely spiritual, but the access to this shadow world seems shut, so there's a kind of, a default, to living in a state of paralysis. At our best, when the work is at its best, we move right into the shadow worlds, from this mundane starting point. So that this particular heartbreak, this particular new infatuation, or this particular new inspiration, is not allowed to live in a place of, "Oh, this is a small thing, it doesn't matter." It does matter, and if one sees it represented, then it can be allowed to catch fire, like it deserves, and move us into another realm, where the soul starts to learn how to turn itself into gold.
ISS: Mm, hm, well, it sounds like what we've seen already, can you really call it a new direction, then?
CD: We can, because now we know what the fuck we're doing, and that hasn't happened before.
(Oh, this is getting entirely more interesting than all of this, but you can't see it here, but the furtive looks and gestures speak volumes, and there is an exciting soundtrack to the conversation that prepares the blood for something very much like ecstasy, but at the same time, there is suddenly a flash of black and red, that could be hair, or it could be a spirit, but who knows, because he has decided to leave the interview and follow the rabbit, who is obviously late, and suddenly, it's almost time for the lunar eclipse, and eclipses always speak of love from 400 years ago, come back to test the water, to see if the land wants to play again for awhile...)
(end of part one)
INTERVIEWING SPEAKING SUBJECT: Ok, first, we want to ask about the new direction of TIMB.
CD: That's a good place to start. It's direction is very clear, and in a state of non-direction.
ISS: Meaning?
CD: It's done. We've pretty much wrapped it up, and by the end of the year, it won't be.
ISS: That seems a little drastic, all things considered.
CD: Why?
ISS: Well, as far as these things go, I mean, an experimental performance operation in Phoenix, it's been rather successful, hasn't it?
CD: Oh, well, that's nice of you to say, but really, in the end, not so much. These last couple of years have seen a pretty substantial decrease in funding, grant-wise, and that's been enough to suggest that the city simply can't support it. We're shutting the doors and moving on, and right now we're all looking at what the next project will be.
ISS: So it's not really over.
CD: Art isn't over, no, not what we do, the close circle of collaborators, no, we're going to be doing other things, but under different auspices. Look, this is something that didn't come easy, I mean, it wasn't a simple decision, but it's obviously the end of the cycle of whatever it was, and this is the start of a new cycle, so we're all more excited about the next thing, which is still undefined.
ISS: Can you give us an idea of what it might be?
CD: Well, we've been playing with names, and it has to be something that reflects the trans-disciplinary nature of what we're doing, not so much theater, but still, closer to theater than most other art forms we use. But it's been moving toward a more mediated form, with more recorded media, for a long time. So we want to call it something extremely hip, and perhaps even impenetrable, so that no one will really understand what we're doing, not even us.
ISS: What names are you considering?
CD: The favorites so far are "The xx," and Erikah Badu, but there may be copyright issues. We're also thinking about "El 28," because of that song.
ISS: By Oreja de Van Gogh.
CD: Exactly.
ISS: That's such a sad song, do you know the lyrics off the top of your head?
CD: Of course. They're like this: nerviosa miro el reloj ,
la lluvia conmigo empieza
un día de pleno sol,
a lo lejos aparece el
recuerdo de un amor,
no me ve, camina
ausente, hace mucho que pasó.
Empecé a recordar.
Y paseé
por mi mente y encontré,
aquel rincón que te dejé,
donde guardo los
momentos que no olvidé.
Revivo aquella noche en que
olvidamos lo demás,
el cielo se volvió rojo al sol
vimos bostezar,
se ha perdido entre la gente,
me he perdido yo también,
ya se ha ido el 28 la memoria de
un ayer.
Empecé a recordar
Y paseé
por mi mente y encontré,
aquel rincón que te dejé,
donde guardo los momentos
que no olvidé.
Si quiero saber, si tú también,
recuerdas algo de aquel café,
espero a veces sin entender,
por qué.
Y paseé
por mi mente y encontré,
aquel rincón que te dejé,
donde guardo los momentos que
no olvidé.
ISS: Well, that makes sense, but it seems to me that this might be just another regurgitation of the themes of longing and impossible love, and there's something here about nostalgia that strikes me as a little problematic, especially considering the crimes against humanity from the 20th and 21st centuries, the history of world holocausts, as well as their relationship to Latin America, and particularly its under-representation in the dominant discourses of resistance and memory.
CD: I know, right? But there's also something about the song that's very corny, and that's why we're looking at other names, and that's why lately we're starting to think about something simple, like Angry and Crazy.
ISS: That's particularly interesting, considering the criticisms against you about your being somewhat infatuated, or obsessed, or maybe fixated, on angry and insane women.
CD: Who says that?
ISS: I've heard things.
CD: Ok, listen, I'm very uncomfortable about putting my personal life in all of this, because I firmly believe that the line between art and life is very fixed. I mean, my work has nothing to do with me, not at all, otherwise this would be a huge experiment in narcissism.
ISS: Didn't you once say that all art is narcissism?
CD: That's true, I did, oh, that's very true, yes. Hm. Well. In that case, the line between art and life is very thin, it's thinner than a mirror, the one that separates us from our text messages, and those of course are where life becomes a performance.
ISS: I don't follow.
CD: It doesn't matter, you will some day. For now, it's probably important to unpack some of that. Angry and insane are things that I've always been attracted to, because that's me. That's who I am. Angry, all of our work, all of the collaborators, we're angry, angry because this is a place of enormous potential, where the multiple identities, cultural, sexual, even historical, that are both migratory in this space, and also indigenous, means that there is fertile ground for some extraordinary art, and still, it gets swept under the rugs because it makes the majority uncomfortable. Also, we're angry because we sense that there is a deep connection to the land that, if approached, not necessarily even embraced, but just approached, would mean a revolution in thought and feeling, and that experience is one that is hard to speak about in art, unless the viewer already has some sense of it, but there's so very little sense here, that well.
ISS: It's maddening.
CD: Right. And that's where anger turns to madness. I know people think we're crazy, and I hear it all the time, where I make art that is way over everyone's head, as if I'm trying to be smart on purpose, to make people feel dumb, and we use this madness to confuse people, but the truth is, people are not stupid. Not even here. They're just not stupid. And they deserve art that respects their abilities to comprehend, on deeper and more complex levels than they are usually accustomed to. I suppose that's true here as well as anywhere. So, they don't understand, and then they come up with the label crazy. I'm not crazy, at least on most days, but I can see further than most people. To repeat: I'm not crazy, I can just see very far. And sometimes I can see your soul. So most of the work is speaking to that thing that's far away, or perhaps even deep within, you know?
ISS: No, you lost me.
CD: There are people who are very confused, indecisive, stuck, because they know that deep in the marrow of their bones that this experience of living is more that is apparent, more than what's on the surface, that somewhere else, there are shadows of ourselves living out our lives on a mythic level, one that is entirely corporeal and simultaneously entirely spiritual, but the access to this shadow world seems shut, so there's a kind of, a default, to living in a state of paralysis. At our best, when the work is at its best, we move right into the shadow worlds, from this mundane starting point. So that this particular heartbreak, this particular new infatuation, or this particular new inspiration, is not allowed to live in a place of, "Oh, this is a small thing, it doesn't matter." It does matter, and if one sees it represented, then it can be allowed to catch fire, like it deserves, and move us into another realm, where the soul starts to learn how to turn itself into gold.
ISS: Mm, hm, well, it sounds like what we've seen already, can you really call it a new direction, then?
CD: We can, because now we know what the fuck we're doing, and that hasn't happened before.
(Oh, this is getting entirely more interesting than all of this, but you can't see it here, but the furtive looks and gestures speak volumes, and there is an exciting soundtrack to the conversation that prepares the blood for something very much like ecstasy, but at the same time, there is suddenly a flash of black and red, that could be hair, or it could be a spirit, but who knows, because he has decided to leave the interview and follow the rabbit, who is obviously late, and suddenly, it's almost time for the lunar eclipse, and eclipses always speak of love from 400 years ago, come back to test the water, to see if the land wants to play again for awhile...)
(end of part one)
Saturday, September 11, 2010
firma #1/series xo
"c change"
firma to open odysseus' eyes and calm calypso's mind/firma para abrir los ojos de ulysses y tranquilar el mente de calypso
from "biology is magic, nature spirits are messy, firma series three"
media: cascarilla, stone, big hands, beach, and cell phone
--from san diego, september 10, 2010
Thursday, August 19, 2010
firma #4/series 2
"one i"
firma to make the heart see after losing an i/firma para que el corazón que puede ver mientras le falta un ojo
from "biology is magic, nature is messy, firma series two"
media: cascarilla and cell phone
--from my house, aug 19, 2010
firma #3/series 2
"ulysses heart"
firma to seat the heart back in the heart/firma para llamar al corazón de vuelta a casa
from "biology is magic, nature is messy, firma series two"
media: cascarilla and cell phone
--from my house, aug 19, 2010
Wednesday, August 11, 2010
firma #2/series 2
"singing bird"
firma to sing the bird back to life after a war/firma para re-nacir un pajaro despues de la guerra
from "biology is magic, nature is messy, firma series two"
media: cascarilla and cell phone
--from my house, aug 11, 2010
firma #1/series 2
"ojo del ombligo"
firma to open the eye of the belly/firma para abrir el ojo en el centro del humano
from "biology is magic, nature is messy, firma series two"
media: cascarilla and cell phone
--from my house, aug 11, 2010
Tuesday, August 10, 2010
firma #9
"only the muertos know eternal love"
firma so our dead may always love each other, even though our hearts are still/firma para dejar k nuestr@s muert@s pueden hablar aunque nosotros no podemos estar juntos
from "biology is magic, nature is messy, firma series one"
media: cascarilla, salt, concrete, dirt, puro, short freak thumb and forefinger from my extra large hand, and cell phone
--from the corner of my memory, aug 9, 2010
firma #8
"flighty"
firma to free the bird in the eye of the heart back to the roots/Firma para liberar el pájaros en el ojo del corazón para regresarlo a las raíces
from "biology is magic, nature is messy, firma series one"
media: salt, cascarilla, tree, short freak thumb and forefinger from my extra large hand, and cell phone
--from a naughty tree, aug 9, 2010
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