being a face
In one improvisation today we worked with a picture of Varlam Shalamov. His face - what is it? broken, resigned, warm.
I worked with imitating his posture, the angles of his body, the turn of his mouth, the eyes a long way back in his skull, his gaze. In these imitations, I found myself acquainted to Shalamov, registering his grief (it was mine). Deeper. It became a place from which I could dance, from which I could not leave.
Later in the task, Bagryana said, “try not to be noticed”. I enjoyed the tension of this attention. How might I not be noticed by a viewer? What are the implications of being seen?
Today’s work was done upstairs at Napier St – a dusty, half-broken space. It felt good to be in a less formal studio space, in having the environment set quite a specific context to be, and to move.
postedbysimon
