RWDNY - Pearl Sea Project (3)

I have about two minutes on stage that I really like:

I kneel, holding the space. Then, slowly, the weight of my head takes over, and I bow to the floor. From kneeling, I unfold the right knee, and caress the air with my arms in a circle, and roll the air out – the way does with a carpet. I contract into what I think of as “sheltering under the rain” gesture, which my head hidden under my hands. But I peek out: and look. It’s like a bird looking. I take care to take in the space with my looking.

Then, cautiously, I step forth. The space expands before me, and I venture into this new space. My hands part the mists before me. I look down, my hand falls, like a pebble down a deep well, and my weight sinks with it; until suddenly, I find my weight supported by my right hand. Weight shift – I flip: over to left hand, up on left leg, and I’m flying. My body is suspended, parallel to the floor, my arms supported by the air beneath.

I shift back to vertical on my left leg; it’s a tiny lift up, and then off-balance, I scuttle back. My pelvis twists: left, right, and I push the space backwards, extending my left hand behind me. Cautiously, I come en point, fragile steps into the space – and then, with an undulation, my head gets thrown up and down: I see a spot. I reach for it, sinking down. I touch the earth, and remain there in this point of contact until the lights go out.

Ling Fen taught me and Katie in the first class, and by the second class, I’d figured enough of it to make it mine. I keep thinking that Robert will develop it (and he even said he wanted to outright), but he never does. Instead, he makes us do it every other rehearsal.

It’s good practice to be able to consistently deliver; and it’s a matter of staying present, and receiving feedback from the sensation. And of course, it felt different again on the stage. I was so near the front, all the suspensions in the air feel more risky.

Isabel said, “It felt like your stuff.”

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“Well,” she said, “It was meditative… slow, and detailed.”

I always find it amusing when people are able to tell me what “my stuff” is. I suppose it’s good to develop a recognizable aesthetic.