I would like to propose a way forward; not in product, but in process.
Not that there’s anything wrong with talking about product(ions). That should continue, I think, and must. But speaking just for myself, there’s always a sharp disjunction between what I think about potential productions and what i do when I’m engaged in a creative process. Often it’s not a disjunction as much as it is an antagonism. Mutual destruction is ensured in such a case, leaving me just staring off into space while waiting for sleep. For me, talking about the kind of work I’d like to do is often an exercise in egoaggrandizement, an attempt at self-justification through asserting some high-falutin’ critical and academic sensibility. To exploit my jargon, it’s indulging in an imaginary mode of reflection: how do I see myself, how do others see me, how do I want to see myself, how should someone my age be seen, etc. Once shoulds enter the picture they usually turn monstrous and omnivorous; next thing I know they are chasing me down like wild dogs.
Process, on the other hand, is very forgiving. It meets me where I am. It respects limitations. It breathes with me. It patiently teaches and offers reasonable rewards. I’m tempted to use my experience working on Coriolanus as an example, but the experience is too recent and we have many mixed feelings. I’ll just say it was a process experience that got me through and kept me fairly even tempered (for me) in the midst of a frustrating schedule. I didn’t worry about the product too much because my process kept me absorbed and distracted (in a good way).
Let’s give ourselves a rewarding and satisfying life while we wait for the “right one” to come along. If you know what I mean. No need to cloister ourselves.
Here’s my proposal. We open up a page on this site for ongoing creative contributions and exchanges. Wednesdays, I will open up the Newnan School of Dance at 6:30 for whoever wishes to gather and explore. That’s it. No pressure. You do not have to come on Wednesdays expecting to “act, perform, improvise,” etc. Just talking and observing is fine. Let your own thoughts of process lead you.
This may lead us to having several “irons in the fire.” Why not? Several works in progress? Experiments? A series of variations? Scripts? Other performance ideas? We each lean in with whatever process and sensibility fits us. Speaking for myself, again, there may be times when I feel so beset with thoughts of product and the burden of my own unrealized aspirations that spending a Wednesday absorbed in playing around in someone else’s ideas would be just the thing. To just engage in a process with no concern for my own future ambitions would be a welcome opportunity.
If we want to use Vyew as an annex for our online sharing, great. We will need to be reminded of passwords and names and such. As for our forum on this site, new page? or new post? Thoughts?
My one suggestion for our online work: avoid creating the illusion of human interaction and favor other encounters.
I’ll be glad to contribute here or via other asynch collaborative mechanism. I’ve allocated my recently acquired little reporter moleskine for the purpose of capturing ideas Lacuna and otherwise. I regret I will not be able to take advantage of the weekly in-person collaboration, due to the aforementioned scheduling conflict.
This is not insurmountable. Another place/time? Anybody?
I think it is a great idea. The thought of having a place each week where one could go for creative exchanges sounds exciting to me. Unfortunately exciting is not what my body needs right now. So even though my schedule is open to do this any night, I would not be available very often. But I would hope others in the group would avail themselves of this opportunity. Just my two cents worth, and I will accept change if any is warranted.
I’m in. I’m not comfortable offering my basement for a non-Wednesday night because a) Ginny would be trying to relax upstairs; and b) it’s not really a very comfortable space to work in.
Life is what happens when we are busy making other plans.
Yes, I will be there. Of course I will be there.
This last bit intrigues me:
“My one suggestion for our online work: avoid creating the illusion of human interaction and favor other encounters.”
Barb and I have meddled around a bit with avatars in Second Life and, while the potential seems limitless, the actual “reality” — if that is even the appropriate term in this case — is that, at this stage in its development, Second Life is little more than dull mimicry of “First Life.” With flying. Downright banal.
The Second Life experience seems focused on wish-fulfillment, more than anything else. “If I had limitless pots of money, I’d look cool and dress in cool clothes and I’d live at the beach and have a cool house filled with cool stuff, and I’ve have constant sex with strangers. And I guess I’d fly because flying is funky and all.”
Un, okay. If you’re 12, that’s fine, I guess.
Saw an interesting bit today. “Videogame craving may rev up brain’s addiction circuits.” When the urge to play a viÂdeo game strikes, some playÂers show siÂmiÂlar brain actiÂvity to that of drug adÂdicts, a new study sugÂgests.
Illusions of human interaction. Addiction. Sex. Encounters. Favor OTHER encounters. The “non-illusory” kind, yes? The non-addictive kind? The neutered kind?
On the same page about the addiction stuff was a bit about yeast sex. It gives whole new meaning to the term “yeast infection.”
The illusion of human interaction. Avoid that. Favor other encounters. Encounters that do not involve illusory human interaction.
I am trying to wrap my addiction-riddled brain around the concept. Trying and failing. But I do so want to go there.
So we start next week? November 19?
Our Tech grad has posed a Space/Time problem.
In the meantime, about our online area(s)? Any suggestions?
A blog page for traveling with vectors and a Vyew space for time-less possibilities?
Just call me Hector the Vector.
I like the Wed. meeting idea, even if everyone can’t come. Whosoever will. I spend too much time on the computer as it is. I can’t see myself purposefully adding more time in front of a machine.
Thanks for the consideration, all, but my post was less an attempt to change what works for most and more notice that while my choices take me away, it is not without regret. My hope lies in that there will be occasions when my other activities will have gaps and that the group may sometimes meet off the regularly scheduled grid. I will continue to sit on a branch and caw at the lot of you insomuch as the notes of the meetings allow me to do so.
Thanks, Turff. We will relax about this bump in the road and make the best of it. Don’t forget that online interaction I hope to be as vital. Actually, even with a background in Yoga, I was getting a bit stiff trying to stay bent over backwards.
And Dale, please, no comments about body postures.
“…We made these little gray houses of logs that you see, and they are square. It is a bad way to live, for there can be no power in a square. You have noticed that everything an Indian does is in a circle, and that is because the Power of the World always works in circles, and everything tries to be round. In the old days when we were a strong and happy people, all our power came to us from the sacred hoop of the nation, and so long as the hoop was unbroken, the people flourished. The flowering tree was the living center of the hoop, and the circle of the four quarters nourished it. The east gave peace and light, the south gave warmth, the west gave rain, and the north with its cold and mighty wind gave strength and endurance. This knowledge came to us from the outer world with our religion. Everything the Power of the World does is done in a circle. The sky is round, and I have heard that the earth is round like a ball, and so are all the stars. The wind, in its greatest power, whirls. Birds make their nests in circles, for theirs is the same religion as ours. The sun comes forth and goes down again in a circle. The moon does the same, and both are round. Even the seasons form a great circle in their changing, and always come back again to where they were. The life of a man is a circle from childhood to childhood, and so it is in everything where power moves. Our tepees were round like the nests of birds, and these were always set in a circle, the nation’s hoop, a nest of many nests, where the Great Spirit meant for us to hatch our children. But the Wasichus have put us in these square boxes. Our power is gone and we are dying, for the power is not in us anymore. You can look at our boys and see how it is with us. When we were living by the power of the circle in they way we should, boys were men at twelve or thirteen years of ago. But now it takes them very much longer to mature. Well, it is as it is. We are prisoners of war while we are waiting here. But there is another world.”
–Black Elk
1
A’tawasti’yï.
Sgë!
(Listen!)
O, now instantly, you draw near.
You come to spit on me. Red is your spit. Ela-wâ’tï.
Blue I was, this night. Now you come, you clothe me red.
Sun lives this night! She is blue. She is male. She is moon.
You direct her path. She/he, at my feet.
I exult.
Sgë!
(Listen!)
With water, we begin.
Water above, water below.
Water East, water South,
Water West, water North.
In my body, water.
At my center, water.
With water, we begin.
Look above!
Gälûñ’lätï, beyond arch, beyond sky.
Gälûñ’lätï, beyond arch, beyond sky.
Gathering at Gälûñ’lätï,
Loon, Beaver, Crawfish gather at Gälûñ’lätï.
Hawk, Buzzard, Wolf, at Gälûñ’lätï they gather.
Raccoon, Bear, Dove, Eagle, Horned Owl, Frog,
All gather at Gälûñ’lätï.
Too many.
Too many at Gälûñ’lätï are gathered.
Look below!
Water East, water South,
Water West, water North.
Look below!
Water East, water South,
Water West, water North.
Who will dive?
Who will dive from Gälûñ’lätï,
Beyond arch, beyond sky?
Who will wear the white beads,
And dive from Gälûñ’lätï?
Loon will dive.
Loon will wear the white beads.
Loon will dive,
Down from arch,
Down from sky,
To the water down below.
Loon presses down,
Down press the beads,
Pressing loon’s skin,
Into her neck.
Loon presses down,
Down press the beads,
Pressing loon’s skin,
Into her neck.
Loon presses down,
Down press the beads,
Pressing loon’s skin,
Into her neck.
Loon swims up, up to Gälûñ’lätï,
Up beyond arch,
Up beyond sky.
Loon swims up, up to Gälûñ’lätï.
What did loon find, down in the water?
Water East, water South,
Water West, water North?
“Remove the white beads, remove them from my neck,
and I will tell you what was found,
Down in the waters,
Water East, water South,
Water West, water North.”
But the Beaver, the Crawfish, the Hawk,
The Buzzard, the Wolf, the Raccoon,
and even the Bear,
They could not remove the white beads.
They pried, they clawed, they nipped.
But the beads are there,
There in loon’s neck,
There to this day.
Look below!
Water East, water South,
Water West, water North.
Who will dive?
Who will dive from Gälûñ’lätï,
Beyond arch, beyond sky?
Who will wear the white beads,
And dive from Gälûñ’lätï?
Beaver will dive.
Beaver will wear the white beads.
Beaver will dive,
Dive down from arch,
Down from sky,
To the water down, down below.
“I will dive from Gälûñ’lätï,” Beaver says,
“But I will not wear the white beads.”
Beaver dives down,
Down from Gälûñ’lätï
Down from arch,
Down from sky,
To the water down below.
Beaver dives down,
Down from Gälûñ’lätï
Down from arch,
Down from sky,
To the water down below.
Beaver dives down,
Down from Gälûñ’lätï
Down from arch,
Down from sky,
To the water down below.
Beaver stops,
There is no air.
Beaver gasps,
There is no air.
Beaver dies.
Beaver floats up, up to Gälûñ’lätï,
Up beyond arch,
Up beyond sky.
Beaver swells up,
And beaver’s body remains so,
Swollen to this day.
Look below!
Water East, water South,
Water West, water North.
Beaver swollen.
Beaver floating.
Who will dive?
Who will dive from Gälûñ’lätï,
Beyond arch, beyond sky?
Who will wear the white beads,
And dive from Gälûñ’lätï?
Frog will dive.
Frog will wear the white beads.
Down from arch,
Down from sky,
To the water down below.
“I will dive from Gälûñ’lätï,” Frog says,
“But I will not wear the white beads.”
Frog dives down,
Down from Gälûñ’lätï
Down from arch,
Down from sky,
To the water down below.
Frog dives down,
Down from Gälûñ’lätï
Down from arch,
Down from sky,
To the water down below.
Frog dives down,
Down from Gälûñ’lätï
Down from arch,
Down from sky,
To the water down below.
Garfish sees Frog.
Frog sees Garfish.
Frog swims up, up to Gälûñ’lätï,
Swims, swims up, up to Gälûñ’lätï,
Up, up, up, up to Gälûñ’lätï,
Frog swims up, swims up, up.
Garfish snaps at Frog
Snaps and snaps,
All the way to Gälûñ’lätï,
Up beyond arch,
Up beyond sky.
Look above!
What did Frog find, down in the water?
Water East, water South,
Water West, water North?
What did Frog find?
“I found nothing,” Frog says.
“Garfish found me.”
Look below!
Who will dive?
Who will dive from Gälûñ’lätï,
Beyond arch, beyond sky?
Who will wear the white beads,
And dive from Gälûñ’lätï?
Who?
Who will dive?
Who?
No one will dive,
No one.
No one will.
No one will wear the white beads.
No one.
Crawfish steps forth. Crawfish, he is small.
“Sock Chew,” he is called.
“I will dive from Gälûñ’lätï,” Sock Chew says,
“Down from arch,
“Down from sky,
“To the water down below.
I will.
I will dive.”
The animals, they all laugh.
Loon laughs, Hawk laughs, Buzzard laughs, Bear laughs. Everyone, everyone.
Beaver does not laugh at Sock Chew. Beaver is dead.
Crawfish says,
“I will go, anyway.”
Sock Chew swims down,
Down into darkness,
Water all around,
Down Crawfish dives.
Sock Chew swims down,
Down into darkness,
Water all around,
Down Crawfish dives.
Sock Chew swims down,
Down into darkness,
Water all around,
Down Crawfish dives.
Sock Chew stops.
Here is something.
Something Not-Water.
Something mysterious, motionless.
Fantail out, he scoops.
Fantail down, he scoops.
Fantail up, he scoops.
Fantail out, he scoops.
He scoops, fantail out.
He scoops, fantail down.
He scoops, fantail up.
He scoops, fantail out.
But Crawfish, he scoops not alone.
“What is this?” Someone says.
“Who disturbs the mud?
Who disturbs the mud,
At the bottom of the sea?”
Sock Chew, he is frightened.
Fantail out, he stirs,
Fantail down, he stirs,
Stirs into the mud,
Swirls the mud with water,
Until the Someone sees Sock Chew no more.
Crawfish swims up,
Claws clutch the mud,
Up to the surface,
The surface of the seas.
Crawfish swims up,
Claws clutch the mud,
Up to the surface,
The surface of the seas.
Crawfish swims up,
Claws clutch the mud,
Up to the surface,
The surface of the seas.
Look! Look below!
Look down from Gälûñ’lätï!
Little Sock Chew at the surface!
His claws, they hold the land!
The Eagle, Horned Owl, Buzzard, and Hawk descend.
And peck out the earth
From Sock Chew’s claw crannies,
They peck out the earth
From Sock Chew’s claw,
And roll earth into a mighty ball.
Now the Eagle was chief of the birds.
Eagle lifts his taloned leg, tail spreading,
All readiness and splay.
Horned Owl tosses the ball of earth
At Eagle’s clenched trunk.
His talons splash the ball of earth,
Earth spreads out, into the four directions.
Into the four directions, the earth spreads.
Look! Look below!
Down from Gälûñ’lätï,
The Earth has been made,
Made from a ball of mud.
Ball of mud,
Ball of mud,
The Earth has been made,
Made from a ball of mud.
Bear wants to walk on it,
Walk on the land below.
Wolf wants to walk on it,
Walk on the land below.
Frog wants to hop on it,
Hop on the land below.
But the land, it is thin.
The land, it is wet.
The land is not made for walking.
The land is not made for hopping.
Who will make the land good for walking?
Who will make the land good for hopping?
Who will level it?
Who will dry it?
Buzzard says, “I will,
I will make the land good for walking,
I will make the land good for hopping.”
Little Sock Chew did something.
Buzzard will do something.
Buzzard takes flight,
Buzzard flaps his wings,
Making the land good,
Good for all to walk on.
Buzzard flaps,
Flaps, flaps his wings.
But the world, it is big, So big.
Buzzard tires,
Buzzard dips,
Buzzard swoops,
Wet earth follows wing and rushes up, up to the skies,
And dries as mountains,
Molded there to this day.
The land, it is dry.
The land, it is good for walking.
But no one will walk there,
Walk upon the land.
No one will do it.
The land, it is too dark,
Too dark for walking.
No one will walk there,
There upon the mountains,
There upon the valleys.
No one will walk there.
It is too, too dark.
Too dark to walk.
Too dark for living.
Who will make the light?
Who will bring light from darkness?
Yoh-ah, the Star, said: “I will make the light.”
It was so agreed.
Yoh-ah, the Star. He will make the light.
The star shone forth.
But it was not bright enough,
Not bright enough to light the earth,
Not bright enough for walking.
“Who will make more light?” it was said,
For they wanted to walk the land.
Shar-pah, the Moon, said: “I will make more light.”
Shar-pah made more light,
More light to fill the darkness,
But it was still too dark.
Still too dark for walking.
Finally, after listening and watching in silence and amusement, Sun spoke.
Sun had been watching from her arch,
Her arch above the Sky Vault,
Up, up, up above,
Even above Gälûñ’lätï.
Sun had been watching, watching all along.
“You are my children. I am your mother. I will make the light. I will shine for you,” Sun said.
Sun traveled to the East. Sun’s light spread out, out over all the earth.
As Sun passed over the earth, a drop of blood fell from Sun, down to the ground.
And from this drop of blood and earth came the first people,
the Children of the Sun.
Filter trap. Sigh.
Oh, never mind! It worked!
Are we meeting this Wednesday, then?
This Wednesday I’ll be picking up MF at the airport during out meeting time, but if you committed edgy artist-types are chomping at the bit, I can bring you a key.
Eh, let’s wait until after Thanksgiving, then.
We need a new image and description for our home page. Any suggestions?
SHA?
Where have you been? Ever heard of RSS feeds?
Or I misunderstood. I think SHA should stay a Lichtenbergian thing. And I’m serious about publishing. I’m uncovering some of the history on my SHA post.
I’ll work on that between now and Monday. I’ve got some journaling, some writing, and some composing to do.
I think we should end up with something like this.
I likes, I likes.
Isn’t it pretty to think so?
All kidding aside. Anything is possible with the right process. And one’s own personal availability to the unthought.
You and your mystical slogans.
Turff, after several martinis, has proposed a blogcast. I’ll let him post it himself.
“Process, on the other hand, is very forgiving. It meets me where I am. It respects limitations. It breathes with me. It patiently teaches and offers reasonable rewards.”
Has this really been true of this group? I sometimes wonder.
Look, we didn’t have the money for Samurai Coriolanus. But if not for process, the idea wouldn’t have ever surfaced. Friend, we’ve all been burned a time or two, but we gotta keep the faith.
I am compelled to say that the image of the woman on the wall watching the love scene is strangely compelling. It’s as if she’s also a scenic element. Now what process could plan for that? Or did it?
By the time I got to the end of that first sentence, I’d forgotten I’d already used a form of “compel.” The image of her watching really had me twisted up in knots. I’m going to clean floors. Really.
That’s what you said yesterday.
Well it should be interesting to see where this goes. I am shifting my focus back to my Native American work, while Dale is getting back to his music and Marc is enjoying the copious rewards of SHA while Turff climbs rocks. Where do rock-climbing, hand arrangements, symphonies, and native myth intersect? I really have no idea. But it might be fun to see.
Hm. I just reread Marc at #34 and decided that he likes to watch those who like to watch.
But that’s not why I came on here. Turff, by the time we come back, put your podcast proposal into a post. I can’t keep having ideas without somewhere to put them.
I’ll show you where you can put them.
In the meantime, I’ve bagged a new co-conspirator. Expect Tony Daniel at our next meeting.
The Tony Daniel?
None other.
I spent some of my time in the black hole the wired age left behind typing up lots of stuff about the podcast thing. After much work on it, I struggle with where it best belongs. Some aspects of it (development) seem better suited to the GLS while others (implementation) seem more appropriate here. I may put up a separate incubator blog under lock and key (so to speak) to let it grow a little under the care of the willing, and see where it goes from there. There’s probably 4-6 posts already roughed out in my notes, as soon as I get a chance to sit down and upload/polish them.