Journal

DEAR FIRST NIGHT OF THE FESTIVAL Jun 9, 2013

by Vanessa DeWolf

I arrive via bus, I'm prepared for a variety of feelings, of sights and sounds. I'm excited.  Many friends will be there, many friends are sharing their work I've seen grow and develop and solidify and clarify and discussed over so many months.  The work has now become and I can't wait to be audience to it.

I sit like a sandwich in the middle.  The Studio space full and lots of familiar raisins in this cookie.

I have a new friend on one side and a longstanding friend on my other side.  We watch, we sigh, we open our windows sometimes sniffing at the sweet pie odors at other times wincing at the pain we imagine:

movement phrasing, rhythms in new music, death by hypothermia, the piercing sound of a referee whistle in a grueling competition that might be pointless, the relief of collapsed wrestlers, and the unwinding of a taped-torso and

…..this year IT is endurance

 

How long will I close my eyes? 

Will we know the truth of an accident on a mountain in 1959?

How does one restrain from the stimulation of hickey?

How long does it take to kiss?

How do we make it through?  Why do we continue?  

 

and that it began before, that it all continues after, sometimes the back-image in the credits of a movie, sometimes in the dark, wether there is a winner or a loser,  then in that unknowable secret that is history…..a world before, a world after, glimpsed through repetitive hard-hard work or through the mundane sharing of wait---WHAT WAS THAT!!###?---GROUP FLOSSSING?---then toothbrushing and mouthwash!  They wait, counting with their fingers every second, preparing and ultimately enduring the ridiculous nature of sexual collisions.  We hear the soft voices of a russian song only to find ourselves outside in the cold with dead people... we are held in the mystique of Dyatlov Pass Incident of 1959.  

 

I'm not sure I could have said I was ready to circle two wrestlers in their squirming new species, or a really slow kiss and some vibratory humping, or even the repeated attempts to understand an event that happened 54 years ago and then ultimately to see the unrelenting competition and defeat of those exhausted performers.  Endurance + Empathy.

 

No thank you no sip of well-aged wine. 

I'll dance with you but only if you take off your jacket, your tie, your tidy smugness, and swivel those hips…….we might be half-way there.

 

love

Vanessa who sat there taking in your work.

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