. . . tremendously troubling night dream . . . helping a small youth learn to skate he falls hitting the side of his head after I have given him a starting push . . . going to his side I exhort him to stand up . . . he starts to shrink and transform into a newborn with a bruised head . . . he is dying . . . a doctor appears at my side as I cradle the lifeless newborn in my arms . . . we are in a hospital and the doctor accuses me of shaking the infant to death . . . I awake in panic . . . that was the dream

Ralph Eugene Meatyard (George Eastman House Still Photograph Archive 29 Selected Images )

(special thanks to wood s lot)

"The goal, I think, is to give the reader that sense of being inside someone else's mind, to take them outside of themselves for a few minutes. You ask their permission to do this in the first few sentences, and leave them standing somewhere slightly different when the last graf ends. Not purely craft, not purely art[~]more alchemical, trying to turn type into air. Although the alchemists had it all wrong; all that time they tried to turn lead into gold, the printers kept casting type and publishing books, grateful for the cheapness and pliability of lead. Lead is not as malleable as gold, but words are far more so, and definitely more useful."(Ftrain.com | Voice By Paul Ford )

:: note :: . . . art as alchemy . . . check into art as vehicle . . . act into vertical energy . . .

(Gordon Snelgrove Gallery Archives | Zachari Logan | SameDifference)

:: note :: . . . a student whom in grades 9 - 12 really never exhibited such irony though did design a number of play posters . . . love the above piece Zach . . . title: Hockey Night in Canada . . .

"In a business notorious for destroying newcomers, Marla Rubin seems to have been blessed with good fortune.Her first-ever venture as a theatrical producer, a stage adaptation of the Danish film Festen, opened three weeks ago at the Almeida Theatre and is already a sold-out hit, soon on its way to London's West End."(Globe&Mail.com | Entertainment | Canadian teaches old Dogme new tricks)

"The payoff wasn't important when Maddin started filming his strange, delirious movies on weekends and showing them to friends. That was two decades ago, before he started winning awards, before critics hailed him as a savant and long before a production company risked $3.5-million on Saddest Music, which opens across North America this month. Some critics have called Saddest Music a masterpiece. 'It's set in the Depression,'wrote the Globe's Johanna Schneller of Saddest Music, 'but it's attitude is pure 21st century: a mix of irony, sincerity, melodrama and humour that's as intoxicating as the beer in the glass legs of Isabella Rossellini's character.'"(Globe&Mail.com | Entertainment | It's a mad, mad, Maddin world)

:: note :: . . . wonder who will here about in ten years . . . the making of an artist . . .

"there is nothing rare about the merging of the bodies of two strangers, even the union of souls my occassionally take place, what is a thousand times more rare is the union of the body with its own soul in shared passion . . . (Milan Kundera. The Joke)

"'Osborne didn't contribute to British theatre,' said the playwright Alan Sillitoe, 'he set off a landmine and blew most of it up.'"(Telegraph | Arts | Culture quake: Look back in anger)

:: note :: . . . just a note to self for future reference . . . the scene which students have worked was between the two women (Alison & Helena) which captures the patriarchy of '50's english society . . . a remarkable analysis of the role of women so often neglected when looking at this piece . . . look back in anger . . .

" City of Memory is a narrative map of New York City that allows visitors to create a collective memory by submitting stories."( Local Projects | City of Memory | Originally from muxway, ReBlogged by fruminator | reBlog Eyebeam)

:: note :: . . . a wonderful concept/idea/project. . . reminds me of Calvino's Invisible Cities (mp3) . . . moving with imagination I see a city beneath all the narratives writing itself . . . term after term I teach in the same room and each corner/space/wall/window defines territories of memory . . . spheres of actions . . . students never leave but pile into the invisible narrative space . . . it's a beginning of a new term soon and the space empties making room for the sun that glows golden on the earthen floor, lighting the while walls, illuminating the souls & spirits . . .

"Stories are our wealth. Winter nights we tell them over and over. Once a star fell from the sky, but it wasn't just any star, just as this isn't just any ordinary place. That cedar tree marks the event and the land remembers the flash of its death flight. To describe anything in winter whether it occurs in the past or the future requires a denser language, one thick with the promise of new lambs, heavy with the weight of corn milk."(Floor of Canyon de Chelly by Joy Harjo) (many thanks to link champion wood s lot)

:: note :: . . . winter is over but snow early this morning . . . the last of it (i think) . . . but even into July we are never surprised with snow . . .

A MANIFESTO : (by Peter Handke)

Refuse to make any statements.

Don't let the truth slip out.

Lie through your teeth.

Turn things upside-down.

Don't let reality become language, let language become reality.

Don't talk about language.

Get tied up in contradictions.

Don't write for today.

Don't write for eternity.

Keep everything in the balance.

Don't face the facts.

Don't keep both feet on the ground.

Don't set up rules for other people.

Stress the importance of conversation as first and last aid.

Learn how to die from wildwest films.

Recognise in even the smallest gut-spilled frog the absence of God.

Overshoot the mark in youthful exuberance.

Put your self first.

Don't try to put yourself in anyone else's position.

Write only about yourself.

Always act premeditatedly.

Don't exchange thoughts with anyone.

Seek to talk your way out by writing.

Distance yourself from all things human.

Go to the movies.

Lie in the grass.

Don't compose manifestos.

Buy black shoe-polish.

Get to be world famous.

The Anglais They Say
            in the voice of Louis Riel

The anglais they say
I am crazy
the francophone       and the Metis.

But you old man
Why       do you smile?

Because you are gifted, Louis.
with second sight       like me.

But you       are not a man.
They       do not perceive
you       as such.
You       are a savage
who drifts
      over crosses
and churches
      and votive candles.

Louis learn to use this gift.
Smoke your pipe and wear your sash.

If I am gifted
      as you say

Why?
      do you       allow me
      to suffer?

Why?
      do you turn       into silent
      wings
      that disappear
      in the night?

Seven Songs for Uncle Louis : Louis Told Me in the voice of Evelina, Louis' betrothed
His Bundle

We remember

We live
      within the fine line
      between the underworld and the sky

We have been here
      since Thought Being
      gave birth to shape

We have no choice
      but to listen to the voices
      caught between our
      joints as they struggle
      towards sunlight

We will know
      when it is time
      by the movement
      birthed within our ribcage

We have not forgotten
      our journey
      towards this moment

- Connie Fife

She Told Me

She always told me
to take a willow branch
and gently whip the spirits
out of the house
calling, calling

Ästam we are leaving
ästam do not stay.

She always told me
to put the food away at night
to cover the dishes
or the spirits
would crackle and dance
whistle in our ears
and drive us mad.

I obeyed.

She always told me
never to eat the guts of
animals while I was pregnant
or the baby would be born
with a rope around the neck.

I yearned for the guts.

She always told me
never to walk over men
while I was in my moon
or they would die from my power.
I thought that was the idea.

She always told me
that Nöhkom, the medicine bag
had given here three cigarettes.
That's why the lizards
walked around inside her head.

I watched the flicker of her tongue.

Louise Halfe

:: note :: . . . want to set aside some space for words not found online . . . valuable words . . words close to home . . . one more . . .

"... in many cases the learning cultures at univiersities are actually not formally and/or informally valuing free exploration, expression, critizising, collaboration and sharing ..."(owrede_log | What's the blogging point?)

:: note :: . . . gone through this ritual too many times . . . from either end it has the potential to be much more rewarding . . . the despicable word standardization is now being proposed . . . as a student inscribed on a journal page: "the university is a place of [mental] disease" . . .

"Like a series of haiku poems his beautiful compositions evoke fleeting impressions of the world - the network of veins on a leaf, bruised skin, the glimpse of a room - but they are all abstract. The roots of his work lie in both Pop Art and Minimalism. "(Whitechapel Art Gallery | Raoul De Keyser)(via LookSee)

:: note :: . . . check out Grace X . . . the html works are daily mediatations/portals actively engaging/researching the imaginative spirit at visual play with the obstacle/limitations of art . . .

"the symbiotic artist manifest | Art, as we know it, is dead. And this time is for good."(>>> context weblog sampling new cultural context | the symbiotic artist manifest)

Leave yellow face, white hands, red feet and black heart behind

Farewell thou Farewell
Thou left but left thy dream.
Our tragedy.
Not time to sob nor despair,
Not time.
Flower falls a soul scatters,
Blossoming brilliant and magnificent majestic.
The most heroic.
Why is that?
The place where petals blow is not only sorrowful.
Why is that?

Farewell thou Farewell
Thou aren't forgettable but forgivable.
Our hope.
A mission to illuminate and originate,
A mission.
Flower falls a soul scatters,
Blossoming brilliant and magnificent majestic.
The most dazzling.
Why is that?
The place where once the root was buried is now pregnant.
Why is that?

Farewell thou Farewell
Clearing the path for thee where thou desires to be.
        breath blows chant
        stamp drums the earth
        cloth carpets lifting thee.
Thou dance,
Free soul dancing rising wind.
Whirling petals calling rain.
The earth writhes opening inside.
A light beam shoots to the sky,
Leaving a small white dot,
And winked.

Ae Ran Jeong

:: note :: . . . written after reading Tomson Highway's Kiss of the Fur Queen . . .

At the fourteenth station we begin by turning back to the thirteenth station the taking down of the dead body of

---

At station seven we turn back to station six the wiping the face of

---

At the thirteenth station we turn back to the twelfth station the putting up with the death of

---

At station six we turn back to station five the beautiful simon's taking up the weight of

---

At station twelve we turn back to station eleven the getting used to the nailing up of

---

At station five we turn back desolate to station four the meeting up with the miserable mother of

---

At station eleven we turn back to station ten the stripping off of the clothes of

---

At station four we are almost there and turn back to station three the first falling down of

---

At station ten we turn back to station nine the third falling down of

---

At station three we turn back to station two the acceptation of the full expense of

---

At station nine we turn back to station eight the telling off of the city women of

---

Here comes the crisis of expected defeat at station two we turn back to the first station the washing of the hands of and the condemnation of by pontius pilate

---

At station eight we are not discouraged by the thought of turning back to station seven the second falling down of

---

it is here we must begin

---

:: note :: . . . a Wilfred Watson grid poem (without the grid) written for multi-voices . . . students presented a stations of the cross liturgy at the church of St. Mary . . . the power of theater & the fresh maturity of youth create a reverential presence . . . I am humbled as a director to witness their work and give thanks . . .

"Pollard's Law of Knowledge: Trust your instincts. Instinctive knowledge is both more reliable and more rooted in reality than either moral knowledge (what is 'right') or rational knowledge (what is 'reasonable')."(how to save the world | Your Law)

:: note :: . . . be generous for everything can be better imagined with others therefore be open, accepting and listen to the other . . .

"In his recent essay Should Only Native Actors Have the Right to play Native Roles?, Highway desperately voices out against hatred (158) and calls for freedom (160). Hatred may be the greatest obstacle for Native people on their healing journey. Hurtful colonial experiences leave a scar on a peoples soul and result in a chain of distrust, blame and revenge. This is a universal, historical experience whether it be the Japanese occupation of Korea or the colonization of North America. Hatred closes the heart tight and even generates a self-destructive energy and a self-hatred which destroys the family, the community and eventually a nation. Highway succinctly writes, " . . . hatred, as who doesn't know, kills and kills completely"(158)."(Ae Ran Jeong | A Ceremonial Healing Theater )

:: note :: . . . decided to post this essay after being linked to "colonization is by definition a closing, and decolonization is about opening." Chris Corrigan | Parking Lot via wood s lot . . .

"Learning and improvisation are closely related, at least, I believe they are. The idea of improvisation has a close association with the arts. In music, especially, improvisation has had a key role not only in jazz music, but as an essential skill in the classical compser's repertoire. It is interesting to note that famous classical composers such as Bach, Beethoven and Mozart were famous for their improvisatory brilliance, and this ability had a profound influence on their compositions. . . "

"A balanced perspective on improvisation in learning would lead to students, teachers and educational institutions becoming a source of knowledge and skill, in addition to being a distribution centre for knowledge and skill (I've artificially reduced learning to knowledge and skill here). If the curriculum itself was also viewed as a source of improvisation then it naturally become more open to the influence of the people "learning" it. A sense of dialgue would open up and conversation would be highly valued. This would mean that the rhythms, melodies and chords of the curriculum would become the basis for creative expression as well as interpretation."

"Perhaps at least one dimension of schooling should concentrate on oral traditions of learning."(Experience Designer Network | Learned Improvisation)

:: note :: . . . spent a lifetime defending complex understandings of improvisation within the area of education . . . never articulated but must take time to improvise . . . blogging is improvisation . . .

"ArtisanCam: Imagine being able to watch an artist at work, observing their creations and learning from their skills. ArtisanCam will pilot a series of virtual artists residencies, linking artists and craftspeople working in studios, schools and cultural settings with groups of people in other locations. Websites using images, text, sound, animation, video conferencing and live web casts will link the groups."(Culture Online | Projects)

:: note :: . . . another project is StageWork . . . curious how much is passed on through the virtual world . . . information for sure . . . possible communication . . . but what else? . . . visiting sites gives me insight into their virtual presentations . . . the key is interaction and in many ways we have to be trained for these virtual interactions (at least until a foundation of experience exists) . . . . . . an astute analysis with further links over at Creativity/Machine in Participation, Collaboration, and Play . . .

:: note :: last night . . . Mad Forest . . . a stellar example of theater at the end of the 20th Century . . . the pinnacle of "total theater" espoused by Craig at the end of the 19th Century . . . "In The Art of the Theatre, Craig makes this provocative statement:

"When he (the stage-director) interprets the plays of the dramatist by means of his actors, his scene-painters, and his other craftsmen, then he is a craftsman - a master craftsman; when he will have mastered the use of actions, words, line, colour, and rhythm, then he may become an artist. Then we shall no longer need the assistance of the playwright - for our art will then be self-reliant. (148)"(Perspicacity: Edward Gordon Craig & the Modern Theatre of Devising)

. . . yet a playwrite there was and a gifted craftswomen/group at that . . .

". . . Caryl Churchill, the director and a group of student actors from London's Central School went to Romania to work with acting students there and find out more about the events surrounding the fall of Ceausescu. What finally emerged from this process was a play that revealed the dreadful damage done to people's lives by years of repression and the painful difficulties of lasting change."(Caryl Churchill)

. . . last night saw theater rich in texture, light, sound, set, props and action . . . a rich weaving together of a total imagist experience . . . carefully and exquisitely balanced with a Brechtian notation (this is the theater at the end of the 20th Century paying homage to the great directors of the past in its eclectic stylings) . . .

all were servants to the image . . . the image as narrative/metaphor/symbol/memory . . . it was a wonderfully produced piece of work . . . art to consume . . .

albeit there was a designed hierarchy . . . first the placement of the image was directed at a specific sightline . . . no co-incidence that the most important (powerful) audience sat in the "best" seat . . . 20th century theater is dominated by the theater consumer . . .

second there was a hierarchy of knowledge . . . the more pre-knowlege of the historical/socio-economical/cultural story . . . the richer the experience . . . Knowledge is Power . . . it is a post modern language . . .

"Churchill's theatre is not just a question of politics, but a politics of style"(Elaine Aston. Caryl Churchill)

scenes are presented . . . attention is directed to the epic dramaturgy . . . a broken egg & the futility of putting it back together . . . no matter how long and great the effort . . . no matter how much is saved . . . this image points to the end . . . where a wedding celebration has degenerated into a brawl . . . the dance continues into . . . well into the darkest chaos . . .

there is a dark satirical scene between a dog and a vampire . . . illusions/delusions and hints of political satire under extreme regimes . . . the reenactment of the Ceausescus execution . . . the dream . . . the juxtaposition of clear monologues and silence in a constant evocative soundscape . . . the cast function as a precise ensemble meticulously trained . . .

. . .in all these riches let us not forget that theater is communion . . .

2:46:29 PM     comment []   . . Google It!     - See Also:  Reviews  Open firefly

"The art historian Michael Fried used the word theatricality to describe this phenomenon of Minimalism, by which he meant to attack it, although theatricality can be taken as an attribute. No longer a passive object on a pedestal or an illusion painted on a canvas on a wall, art now entailed real form in real space, experienced in real time."(NYTimes | ART REVIEW | 'A MINIMAL FUTURE')

:: note :: . . . minimalism . . . as an ism has been pleasing to me . . . the clean, sharp aesthetic has always attracted my eye . . . the bold choices have stirred interest . . . the attack "but is it art?" and the usually following dismissal left me confused . . . the work never needed justification only appreciation . . .

""(H)is plays have a brilliant theatricality. He is, in fact, an exemplary autodidact, and a very quick study. In the plays, things are never quite what they seem to be. (...) Time plays tricks, as past and present coexist and sometimes brush against each other on the same stage. In many of his plays, there are echoes of his previous writings. The subject matter may shift from moral philosophy to quantum physics, but the voice is that of the author caught in the act of badinage, arguing himself in and out of a quandary." - Mel Gussow, American Theatre (December, 1995)"(Tom Stoppard at the complete review)

:: note :: . . . the literary saloon is a tremendous resource as witnessed with the above Stoppard page . . . and they keep adding all the time . . . there is a reason for linking to Stoppard . . . break a leg to the cast&crew of The Real Inspector Hound . . . thank you for a brilliant performance . . . more to come . . .