Dark and with Light (and Sound)

Light & Dark Menu
Barbara is using a timer with a meditation or mindfulness alarm, so that the Aunt can be timed without someone watching the clock. Working with an evolving solo quad form, lights, stones, musing stool, votives. Eric Lacossa’s Dessert Soundscape

It’s a very different experience writing in the dark. Frankly I’m not so sure about how to document this process now. I feel my gaze is very subjective, what I’ll record are not facts or quotes. Do I trust that the group mind has developed enough that what I perceive is what is necessary to record? For what reason do I record this? Are we so in the now that my observations are superfluous? Are the moments and images that arrest/stimulate/relax me moments that point to something deeper, actually pointing to synchronicities or set ups that occurred seconds or hours or days earlier? How do I record that process?

I’m so exhausted I’m not sure I can trust what I’m thinking or feeling. We start in the darkness. I am sitting on a cushion, like the rest of the ensemble. Barbara is in the director’s chair. Barbara enters with the smooth little rocks in the straw basket, kneeling. Bobby sets the candles up in a repeat of the cross formation from last week, delineating the four quads of our playing space. After a little Laurie whispers to me to pass her the flashlight. Tyler comes to the CD player and turns it off. How bold! Cara enters from the audience as Laurie begins slowly rolling the large mag flashlight in a semi circle on the floor. Erika, Eliza and Katherine join Cara in the slow crawl from their seats on the cushions in the audience. I am aware that the green tea is especially hot and delicious and restorative. The four crawlers have reached the back of the space and two of them begin crawling up the wall. Synchronicity is strong in group agreement to hold images.
Laurie investigates walking along the wall with the flashlight the arching the flashlight again in half circles on the floor. Each sound is part of the choreography. The darkness of the room intensifies our awareness of sound. Although I cannot see her do it from the angle I am resting at I hear Cara roll the small rocks onto the floor. A satisfying sound. A recognizable sound. How many sounds do I know in the this studio? What is a surprise in the dark? What sounds are a part of our culture? I feel calm and bathed sitting in the dark, I notice the red light glowing from the silent boom box and I feel relieved that my back hurts a little less with the rolled up cushion in the small of my back.

Barbara goes back to sit in the director’s chair, Erika crawls to downstage and off into the cushions. Meanwhile the cross formation of the votives is being dismantled.

What are the rules again?

Barbara asks that we “Continue to emphasize repetition”. Repetition from my personal vocabulary? Influence from another in the moment? Recycled images and moments from an earlier Aunt? On another night?

We have no outside gaze in our audience tonight. We are the only witnesses, the only interpreters of our offering tonight. It is so dark in the studio that I can hear a rock making a long rolling journey but I can’t see where it is, but know it’s trajectory none the less.

Barbara calls “Pause. For as long as you want.” Me? Should I pause in my gaze? Return my attention to my breath? Am I at this moment the gaze or the performer or the recorder or all simultaneously. How the audience perceives what you are doing affects what you are doing. Christa clears her throat. I can’t see that it’s Christa, but rather I recognize her sound, even though she does not speak. Booby hums from the audience. Laurie sweeps the flashlight and for a moment it illuminates this page I am writing. I see the black ink against the white paper and the shadow made from my pen.

Barbara asks “Christa, tell us a dream”.
Christa tells us about her dream about the Maharishi who had just died.
Barbara asks Christa to stay where she is as she is telling the story and asks Eliza to plug a clip lamp into the long extension cord.
It goes dark again and I become aware of Miriam dancing by a group of votive candles.