Miranda July wears earplugs when she writes. Something about hypnosis.... would that work for me? To wear earplugs. Would it bother the dancers if they were trying to speak to me. Would I shout?
What about hypnosis? How do I create that immersion within the creative act, that way of shutting out the judgements and really getting some solid work done.
My objectives: to live in Berlin and have a dance space in my living space and work everyday with tea and good lighting and the ability to yell and fly and do all those things that my work includes.
Upcoming works:
"A little hit of excellence"
Other thoughts:
On failure.
Recently I was told by a group of professionals that I had essentially failed them. I was furious. I was livid. They didn't understand my work, all I had done, all that I had accomplished! But really, what's so bad about being told I have failed?... nothing. In fact, failure is one of the most important professional responsibilities I have. It is one of the most humbling, grounding experiences and it reflects that I am aligned with my most valued philosophies on making art: invite others to see me, take risks, be uncomfortable, make a mess of things- and then from there, the work is. From there, I can discover and craft (yes, I used the word craft!) my art. I think failure is an inherent aspect of the way that I make work. And maybe this upsets others. Maybe it disappoints people, even the people who support me. How can I not feel incredibly guilt when a handful of respectful people have offered me a great amount of trust and support and money to make art, respond by turning their heads down and to the side, shaking them rhythmically, arms crossed, sighing deeply. Oh, "I am sorry" I want to utter once my anger subsides. "I am so sorry. I won't do it again."... then, I think, "shit!... I gotta get out of here..... I blew it."
Failure is an incredible thing to look at, observe, think over. And it is so important to me to celebrate failure. To say, look, look, I did it. I took risks. I made a mess, I felt totally uncomfortable, AND furthermore, I let you see it all. And nowwwwww, there are stunning developments in the project; the project that no longer has any support, the project that is brimming with energy and potential. Is it only I that can see this? Do these handful of respectable professionals not trust chaos? Is it a Catalan thing (because frankly I am tired of attributing everything to Catalans, lets move beyond that aspect of identity, shall we)?
I think, it is a me thing (really, I think that because it is the only powerful way I have to look at the situation).
So, my part. Hmmm.... I need to show you something.
come here, give me your hand.
This way.... here put this glitter on your forehead, it reflects the light and makes it easier to see everything.
are your palms sweating, or is that me? Oh, yeah, maybe it's me, I get excited for how beautiful it all is.
do you hear that? reminds me of witches masturbating. (chuckle and wink).
come on, stay with me.
(time passes here)
oh, wow. look at that. I love how the blueness of mountains explains distance, explains profoundness. They are so still.
And lemons! There are lemons and they ran so fast to the frontier between us and them, the way that lemons do; the way that the juice of a lemon surges into the cracks of your mouth, the juice enters all those abandoned territories of your mouth, the way a kiss could never do.... those little deformed wedges in a row at our feet, marking what was, what we shared: that surge that a kiss could never do. the wedges are our memory.
hey! are you watching? do you see them, they aren't prepared. they are just responding now. and it is kind of.... touch and go? I don't know.. how does this make you feel? Did you notice how the musician doesn't even realize how transparent she is? how she just shows you with all the pleasure, because she knows that everything she is doing is just beautiful.
are we still holding hands. why did you let go? holding hands is important. it's im-port-ant. (here, I look you in the eyes, you look back). (**also, Ursa, the blond one, she could look into your eyes and say, "po-tay-toe.")
there is more I wanna show you. Remember how every time you go to visit you parents house, you look through those awkwardly thick photo albums with the pleather covers? And there are all these moments captured. Some of them planned and other candid. And then it reminds you of the webcam on your mac and all the excessive posing we do during the cracks in our day. And we always want to know one thing: how does this look?
and these cracks of conscious pose are becoming more and more. But I also like the cracks in the day where we are posing but we don't know it. Like the singing we do, the things we say with so much conviction that all we hear is the conviction. Conviction is a lovely sound.
(time passes again here. we are just watching)
those witches. Did you realize they are also the mountains in your homeland. and they are the lemons at your feet. those witches are your territory, the earth you walk on. they are.better than kissing They are in your family photo albums. and you keep them in a neat little aluminum sardine can where you can peel back the lid and stroke the hilly blue curves. And you never misplace this sardine can, because the glitter on your forehead makes the little aluminum territory flicker.
