Author: Marc Honea

The lacuna is what is missing (originally referring to a holein a manuscript). Those who churn out texts on our site create the possibility for a lacuna, but it is the silent hole in the midst of the babbling texts which is the lacuna. It takes both to make the lacuna, the text and the absence. To withhold words is to be in the lacuna, and perhaps closer to the heart of the mystery. There’s a work ethic implied here, I think; in fact, I’ve seen it at work in many instances of creative collaboration. Presence and absence are both necessary to create the mystery of collaboration: one person may define the possibility of a hole by revealing a boundarywhile another personis actually part of the substance of the gap (if a gap has a substance–maybe you can “take up residence in the gap”).Holding eitherposition implies astrategy and an approach, as does the possibility of moving from presence to absence and back.

Writing and reading (and acting and speaking) are ways of responding to the lacuna in ourselves as we find a new lacuna in our midst…grasshopper.

I have my own private little sweat lodge in which try sometimes to write plays. Usually I wind up turning the sweat lodge into an outhouse and that’s that. My block has a lot to do with very severe expectations I place upon my efforts (which I think is a sign, ultimately, of shallowness–it doesn’t hurt so much after I accuse myself of it). Samuel Beckett didn’t start writing plays and cause everyone else to give up, obviously. There are a lot of occupied sweat lodges out there. But I am preoccupied with Beckett’s work as a kind of terminus in the drama. Through a meticulous scoring, through both restraining and exercising a facile bardic tongue, he crafted acts which choked the theatre into speaking about what lies at our limits (got to go beyond Godot folks, as great as it is; read the later shorter stuff where the voice begins to leave the body). In my shallowness and awe, I cannot find a way forward. My current idea for a play is a terrifying construction of the nothing that’s not happening and won’t happen any time soon. If you seek release from the pain of life through psychiatric institutionalization, ask me to describe what I want to write about. I won’t be able to tell you, but I’ll drive you nuts with the ways I can not talk about it. Continue reading “Scripting the Unscriptable”

Please read what follows. I didn’t write it.

“This is designed as a structure for searching with the voice, searching out the possibilities of the voice. The body will be instinctively involved, organically, that is unavoidable, and the voice can originate nowhere else but in the body, propelled by it and propelling. The rapidity with which it should eventually be done and the rhythmic play of it should eliminate interferences that come from wondering which comes first, voice or body, the emphasis is on the voice as body language.

Continue reading “The Vocal Sequence”

I’m pouting. The first time I tried to create this post (ouch, uncorrected typo was “pose”), it was lost (yes, I “saved”). So I’m not inspired to re-write a useful little piece on vocal support and sound production. Suffice to say, to do this work safely, you support and vocalize like a singer. Pavarotti to his students (no lie): “you squeeze and push like with the bowel movement, yes?” I said beautiful things about the lightness and relaxation of the throat, and likened believing that one’s voice comes from the throat to believing in one’s Ego. Stop clutching at that notion. So when I’ve done other things and am no longer grumpy I’ll say more.

In the meantime, talk to a singer. It [the Vocal Sequence] should feel strange and “not me”-ish. We sometimes laugh at the way opera singers “speak” lines not set to music in a performance. But consider, you can hear them. If you want to play with frequency spread and find mixes which “carry,” you vary the speed of the air passing through your column (through pressure) and try bouncing the vector of sound off different surfaces in your sinuses and skull. Any master of stage performing is going to have some instinct for this approach if not a good deal explicit training. The Method and film acting have almost eclipsed the pleasures available within this sonic world (as far as mass consumption goes), but it still works because it involves the rudimentary physics of how to be heard in a space. Yes, I’m one of those who is reluctant to use miking in a production, except when you want to create mindblowing special effects–then I love it. But just to be heard? Please. Whenever you feel like pushing the throat to accomplish something, let that Frankie Goes to Hollywood song play in your head, you know the one, the disco sex manual from the Eighties (not Two Tribes).