that room of stiff bodied people
and wild green outside flick of lips when she opened her mouth and a squeak came out the charged nature of everything here/now back bent at screen blue flowers grew up on either side with little saplings bombastic voices surrounding park bench her throat clearing broad skies and clouds skinny wisps of white the building bricks like Marlboro Reds smoked packs a day those years something she was good at
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Art shows me the world I want to see, reveals how I want to live. The process of making art teaches me to live better. Putting creations into the world helps me express what's going on inside me, in my life, what I observe in this world, my beliefs when I find it impossible to do so face to face. By sharing the work I make, I can make myself vulnerable in a way that opens me up to connect with others through empathy, and them to each other. When I see art that inspires me, I am reminded of our condition, our world, the irrevocable sense of beauty and truth in each moment. pay attention to how skin lays over bones
laugh at jokes let the desert sand tension that's accumulated into rhino's tough hide dissolve to feathery gossamer what animal am I now? dream more daydream night dream look people in the eye when we talk listen with whole body there is time for planning and there is time for presence do all literary images taste like paper? chuck out those bones those compost roots make garbage sandwiches out of banana peels
when i
woke up i felt barbaric this epic spring journey's been homeric submarine swimming to the bottom of the ocean how bout I nap for a while with calypso white van black haired man no teeth grin in the driver's seat a chore mop up blood buckets clang on the highway track sharp inhale where we lose the threads two men side by side block the wind while one lights a smoke small child four years kid aches for mom screams deep incision muscles crawl, running catch my breath That still apply today... March 23, 2016
Panic does not accelerate productivity. Slowing down helps me see with more attention and sustained focus. There is great creative power in waiting and in doing nothing. Wandering opens up as many ideas as spaciousness. Taking a long time on a project can help me go big with it. I can still pump out material, generate new work and experiment with several improvised pieces a day. The process is becoming about the long haul. How I sustain, how I balance out the creative, the professional, the personal. We handle grief in innumerable ways. The ways I handle grief over time changes. Opening up, taking down walls and allowing for vulnerability makes way for connection. It's uncomfortable to be vulnerable. The discomfort zone is where learning happens, where magic happens. I can only sit for so long without upsetting my body and brain for the rest of the day. I need to move and find new positions for myself in order to engage holistic learning, teaching and making. I am a total maniac. I know how to make massive quantity, how to write a lot and create a ton, and that is an exquisite practice to have under my belt, but now my challenge is learning to do less and in that way do better. I have a mountain of experience under me and when I don't recognize that, I stand tiptoe on top of that peak, unbalanced, about to fall to bottom. I am privileged in many ways. Marginalized in a few. I can walk into a room recognizing the areas in which I am privileged and use those to help lift up the marginalized in the room. Instead of listening for contention or to interrupt, listen for understanding. Pay attention to a room -- Does someone need to step forward? Does someone need to step back? Reflection is as important as planning and acting. When questions drive the work, the work creates more questions. We can explore deeper to make those questions better all the time. At the roots of everyone's work are a few core questions. Finding out what drives us means asking what enrages, inspires, makes us curious, brings us joy, makes us laugh and then tapping into those answers. Generating material is only the first part -- then comes reworking, redrafting, feedback, queering, showing, rewiring... All the parts that play with the work take the longest. That final 5 percent it takes to finish a work really does take 95 percent of the time. A play that taps into shared perversity is more compelling than one that investigates psychological motivations. Asking where am I? each moment can bring deeper awareness and presence and is an easy way to slip back into a conscious mind frame when the spinning option steals my breath. Finding ONE thing, one focus at every given moment leads to greater groundedness in the work. Art matters. I know what I'm doing. I'm on the path to creating a lifelong process that works well for me. Great art has roots and reach. she watches bedroom window
half her life staring white clouds mimic fogged glass one day sickness won't hold her here turn to the view sparkling pond lilacs on fire chortling jays ants swarm kidnap writhing wasp turn back to door blue washes her face mist up conversations let's eat oranges and daffodils forever sleeping on trains, leaning on elbows a teasing poke a blinking eye at his bedside lost maybe he could sense me those last words bed massive swallowing this frail thing there heavy cells eating his brain i read from paper hospice left "Love you for... Thank you for... Forgive you... Forgive me..." went down the list shy wanted to share sage thoughts grey mustache, quiet breath tears starting up felt false wanted to go big to make my voice clear whether he heard me or not A Micro-Play (responding to COVID-19) #1MPFSaw an opportunity to write and submit a 150 word micro-play responding to current events on Facebook. It's due today at 5pm (EST, I imagine) so coming right up, but you can learn more about that HERE if you want to write/send something fast. Here's the original version, a little longer than what I cut down to send them. I hope everyone is staying safe, healthy and managing okay during this wild time. Much love and goodness to you all. Inside an apartment. ZOE and CAM, any age/race/gender, together in front of their laptops. They’re sort of talking to each other but sort of to themselves.
CAM: It’s the uncertainty more than anything, all the unknowns. ZOE: I know. CAM: How long this will go on, when we can go back to normal… ZOE: I think I’m such an introvert but then this happens and I realize how everything we do depends on being in a room with people. And you, we’ve both lost shows, but all your gigs, your income… CAM: Maybe I’ll play music again but maybe not live? ZOE: I still have a job, but the stress of moving all my classes online is… CAM: Maybe we'll live on Zoom all our lives... ZOE: And what if the internet breaks? CAM: And you’re adjunct so there’s no security. ZOE: There’s no security for anybody. CAM: You’re right…there’s no…anything... Cam gets lost, falls into skin and starts to float away, out of the chair/floor. ZOE: Cam! Don’t float away! CAM: Can’t help it... Zoe reaches up and pulls Cam down with big might, keeping Cam grounded. CAM: Whoa. Thanks Zoe. ZOE: Anytime. Cam struggles to stay on the floor and grips onto Zoe. CAM: What do we do? ZOE: Let’s. Look outside. They do. Cam opens a window as Zoe holds them down. ZOE: Look at that squirrel, what’s he burying? CAM: A walnut? ZOE: A chestnut? CAM (like a dirty teenage): Chest-nut. They both laugh. ZOE: Smells fresh. CAM: Like spring. They hold hands, watching outside. They float away, in a different way, a present way, staying here in this moment but up in the clouds too. END OF PLAY |
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$1, $10, $100, whatevs :) Heidi KraayProcess notes on a work in progress (me). This mostly contains raw rough content pulled out of practice notebooks. Occasional posts also invite you into the way I work, with intermittent notes on the hows and whys on the whats I make. Less often you may also find prompts and processes I've brought to workshops, as well as surveys that help me gather material for projects. Similar earlier posts from years ago can be found on: Archives
April 2024
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