Archive for the ‘work in progress’ Category

Proposal for a flowery performance in an empty dirt area.
(Piece requires the possibility of decimation by war.)



Performance carried out as follows: subject is wrapped in a colorful textile, tied to a platform for the dead, and left alone at the risk of chance.


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An object has been registered for delivery by cart.

A woman dressed as a man pushes it up a narrow alleyway to an exhibition space ahead.

When the object arrives, people will look with curiosity. Maybe they will have questions.

Some people will not see anything at all.


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A dance is performed. In particular, we are speaking of Experimental Workshop #2.

The idea is to engage actively with the background medium in order to draw light upon it, bring it into better focus. We must also conjure the notion of reserving the foreground (whatever is available) for an as-yet unknown quantity. In certain fact, this is the theoretical display of social interaction employed every day by very few. It is about looking amid the shadows, not for the satisfaction of a personality cult, but for the otherwise seeming impossibility of climbing out of those shadows.

We are however intrigued by the near complete obfuscation. These photos are mis-composed, outtakes of such a theoretical demonstration.

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Drawing directly from the movements in Post War Japan (having peeked at programs, fliers, and other ephemera in a handful of archives at work), I am compelled by the idea of cultural innovation in a post-war environment. But regarding war: it is an imperative to first survive it (I am getting ahead of myself as I envision this post-war scenario). I ask from a different geographical purview: what will come from the cultural void in Iraq? What will come of the cultural voids in other parts, those that engender a paling in comparison? The flier pictured above is just a wrapper; inside is a work in progress yet to be seen.

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Experimental Dance


I search for images every day. I have various sources; sometimes I search by subject and sometimes I am swayed by the monotonous sequence of a photo-feed.

I have been collecting certain video stills from a very particular event for some time, an event in which a certain individual in a certain-colored shirt is performing an action. I am a little reluctant to say what the color is; my monitor settings might be off and I’d regret that what I am really seeing is, say, an everyday blue instead of that word-defying shade of what-have-you. The color of the individual’s shirt cannot be rightly put to words.

I have a small cache of images featuring a certain individual in a certain-colored shirt rummaging through a mess of something. Kneeling down, bending over, looking over the shoulder. I should include that the mess of something is not really some ‘thing’. It is a pile of people. It is a mess of dead bodies in a morgue somewhere in Iraq. The person in a certain-colored shirt is bending over a pile of bodies in a Haditha morgue, looking to find – or not to find – a relative or loved one.

I performed a sequence of movements based on the the images I have described above.














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