never enough, always enough Mar 31, 2012
Only hours before taking my seat at On the Boards, I'd learned that a person very dear to me had died. Everything I did and saw after was touched by this news. To combine the angry agitation and the broken tenderness we feel in grief is a paradox. To live in fear of death is a paradox. So to is it to know "there is never enough time and there is always enough time," a phrase Mark Haim explains in his program notes that he and his traveling partner used as creative constraint on their desert road trip. Too attuned perhaps to the daily reminders of this same paradox in our waking life, this latter phrase is indelible.
In the first piece of the evening, Haim articulated that human struggle in an unforgettably raw, but sensual performance. Never enough, but deeply satisfying. The characters struggled as they tried to align and then grew disconnected and as they raced against time and expectation and then fractured into chaotic stillness. The piece was full of gems of human interaction: on waiting room seats, in an violent emotional struggle for three, in the languorous touch of two bodies becoming almost primordial--all shape and braided movement. I was most caught by Beth Graczyk's solo, which embodied this try and fail, try and fail frustration becoming distilled finally into subtler and almost jubilant repetition. Ultimately, the cessastion of movement is what catches us, after all the stop and start, reminding us that we're running out of time and there is always enough.