It's over. Of course, we've thought that before. After Cableman, what could follow?
This time it was Q2: Habitat. We tread the granite for the last time on Sunday--the last time for Q2, anyway. The breeze was fresh, and for a moment I thought I would really sail, flying over the edge, buoyed by my astroturf sail, but it was not to be. Still, the breeze was wonderful after some performances in mug and heat, and one during which we had a brief shower. We huddled under our turf and the audience waited under their jackets until we continued. Carefully, because wet stone is slippery.
The end of a run is always a mixed event. Sad to see it end, but already looking to the next thing, the dancers are leaving, the community members are finally doing some gardening, and everything is back to normal. Sort of. See ya.
Monday, August 9, 2010
Friday, August 6, 2010
Q2: Habitat--A Synopsis
The porcupines are in the garden—which only becomes a problem when the “garden” is one belonging to us. The heron is in the cove—which only becomes a problem when he is eating our bait, or in the way of our kayaks. The excavator is noisily building new homes—which only becomes a problem when it is In My Own Backyard. And the people need homes—which only becomes a problem when we use more resources than we need, crowding others out of “our” habitat.
Q2: Habitat takes us through the evolutionary habitation of this beautiful place we call home on the Down East coast of Maine. Where once the magnificent mother porcupine Quilla and her babies roamed freely, and the Heron ruled his watery kingdom, now they find themselves surrounded, trapped, and pushed away by our human needs and uses for these same places. There are a lot of us striving for our own piece of this “turf,” and our uses for this turf end up competing and conflicting with those around us: animals, golfers, truck drivers, insects, dream home owners, contractors, fish, vacationers, conservationists and more.
Q2: Habitat takes our existing struggle for co-habitation one step further, imagining ways we might all become aware of and make room for other creatures’ needs for habitat. The Primordials are giant backpack puppets conceived and constructed by Mia Kanazawa and Mark Kindschi, and animated by dancers Mark Fucik, Christopher Grant, and Matt Kent under Alison Chase’s choreography. They represent fog and wind, our planet’s elemental forces, larger than us and capable of creating transformation. In Q2: Habitat they appear at a devastating juncture—Quilla and the Heron have been trapped and seemingly vanquished—to transform the inhabitants’ understanding of the need to share habitat. With the help of Rick Weed’s primal excavator, they push back the humans from their overexpansion of turf, freeing Quilla and reviving the Heron. This opens up a celebration for all, in which the humans recognize their sprawl and ultimately create a more compact form of living in relationship to our wild friends and habitat.
Q2: Habitat takes us through the evolutionary habitation of this beautiful place we call home on the Down East coast of Maine. Where once the magnificent mother porcupine Quilla and her babies roamed freely, and the Heron ruled his watery kingdom, now they find themselves surrounded, trapped, and pushed away by our human needs and uses for these same places. There are a lot of us striving for our own piece of this “turf,” and our uses for this turf end up competing and conflicting with those around us: animals, golfers, truck drivers, insects, dream home owners, contractors, fish, vacationers, conservationists and more.
Q2: Habitat takes our existing struggle for co-habitation one step further, imagining ways we might all become aware of and make room for other creatures’ needs for habitat. The Primordials are giant backpack puppets conceived and constructed by Mia Kanazawa and Mark Kindschi, and animated by dancers Mark Fucik, Christopher Grant, and Matt Kent under Alison Chase’s choreography. They represent fog and wind, our planet’s elemental forces, larger than us and capable of creating transformation. In Q2: Habitat they appear at a devastating juncture—Quilla and the Heron have been trapped and seemingly vanquished—to transform the inhabitants’ understanding of the need to share habitat. With the help of Rick Weed’s primal excavator, they push back the humans from their overexpansion of turf, freeing Quilla and reviving the Heron. This opens up a celebration for all, in which the humans recognize their sprawl and ultimately create a more compact form of living in relationship to our wild friends and habitat.
Wednesday, August 4, 2010
opening night and another one
Ah, two performances under our collective belts. Opening night Tuesday was like magic--all those separate parts came together and made a work. We community members did our best to be professional--no waving to friends in the audience, not too much mugging and, best of all, we hit all our marks and made all our cues. Needless to say, so did everyone else.
It's funny about an event that you are working toward. Time becomes elastic--sometimes it's so far in the future you think it will never come, and then suddenly, there it is! And that's how it was/is with Q2:Habitat. Our first community rehearsal was before July 4th. It might have been June 26. Performance seemed a long way off, and even last week, it was only the future. Now it's half in the past.
Today we changed the bows slightly, but kept the performance as it was when it opened. When we dance off at the end, it's with a sense of pride and also, frankly, relief--hot, hard work on granite provides ample opportunity for injuries. So far, so good. And it's a real charge to come out into the quarry and see the edges lined with people, some in chairs, some on blankets, some sitting with their legs dangling over the edge. When you come, wear shoes rather than flip-flops. It's a good walk up. See you.
It's funny about an event that you are working toward. Time becomes elastic--sometimes it's so far in the future you think it will never come, and then suddenly, there it is! And that's how it was/is with Q2:Habitat. Our first community rehearsal was before July 4th. It might have been June 26. Performance seemed a long way off, and even last week, it was only the future. Now it's half in the past.
Today we changed the bows slightly, but kept the performance as it was when it opened. When we dance off at the end, it's with a sense of pride and also, frankly, relief--hot, hard work on granite provides ample opportunity for injuries. So far, so good. And it's a real charge to come out into the quarry and see the edges lined with people, some in chairs, some on blankets, some sitting with their legs dangling over the edge. When you come, wear shoes rather than flip-flops. It's a good walk up. See you.
Tuesday, August 3, 2010
not so fast
Q2: Habitat is NOT CANCELLED tonight. Blame computer error, human error--just don't blame me, and come see it. We are READY.
ready, set, got!
Well, not exactly. I just checked and tonight's opening show is cancelled because of weather. bummer. Still, having tried to dance at the quarry after a heavy rain a couple of years ago, turns out I'm all for safetly. Moab and the slippery rock bike trail notwithstanding, moving around on non-level granite is very tricky. Onward.
We had a real dress run-through yesterday, and are SO ready. Music, excavator, dancers, bird-watchers, the heron, the porcupines (big and small), the gulls are all up for it. Naturally there were some changes before the run-through, but, having worked with Alison and Mia for several weeks, no one was surprised. And it all works. You'll have to come and see it tomorrow.
We nixed the false eyelashes and, sadly, stiletto heels. It's hard to be glamorous in a quarry, as the Stonington quarry workers found out a hundred years ago. It's possible they didn't even try. We, however, are doing what we can to: amuse, enchant, astound, suprise and impress. Check it out. I'm pretty sure we'll succeed. See ya .
We had a real dress run-through yesterday, and are SO ready. Music, excavator, dancers, bird-watchers, the heron, the porcupines (big and small), the gulls are all up for it. Naturally there were some changes before the run-through, but, having worked with Alison and Mia for several weeks, no one was surprised. And it all works. You'll have to come and see it tomorrow.
We nixed the false eyelashes and, sadly, stiletto heels. It's hard to be glamorous in a quarry, as the Stonington quarry workers found out a hundred years ago. It's possible they didn't even try. We, however, are doing what we can to: amuse, enchant, astound, suprise and impress. Check it out. I'm pretty sure we'll succeed. See ya .
Sunday, August 1, 2010
It's getting close, all day at the quarry
There's just no way to take pictures and spin around holding a piece of turf behind you like Superman (behind me, that is). In fact, pictures are out as we spend hours and hours at the quarry. It's fun, it's exhausting, it's dehydrating. The things we do for ART.
Although opening night (day, evening) is on Tuesday, Alison and Mia are still looking with that expression on their faces that says, "What if?" Indeed. What if. What if instead of making a shape like a star we didn't. What if we did something else, that required several people to attempt their first grapevine--this is a grapevine that steps back first, if you want to try it at home. It's one of the few things there doesn't need to be an advisory on, but for the most part, what the dancers do should most emphatically be labeled, DO NOT TRY THIS AT HOME.
We have done a run-through of sorts with the music and Rick Weed's excavator. All raise hands who think it might be hard to stand next to the excavator and hear the music of the pans. Some of us are counting like mad. Others are more relaxed, going with the flow. I'm not telling which I am. You'll never guess.
Q2 is amazing, though. Even from the prospect of a community member down in the quarrry rather than up on the edge, where you will be, there's a vastness and a remarkable surprising-ness that overtakes the sensations of heat and weariness we sometimes feel. Watching the gulls go picking their way along a series of rocks, or the baby porcupines (back, I think, by popular demand) scuttling and rolling along is enchanting. I still don't have a sense of what the whole will seem like from the audience, but, no doubt, you will. And now I have to go. Dress rhearsal tomorrow. My clothes are clean. My brights are almost bright enough. I remember what I have to do. False eyelashes? Whatdya think?
Although opening night (day, evening) is on Tuesday, Alison and Mia are still looking with that expression on their faces that says, "What if?" Indeed. What if. What if instead of making a shape like a star we didn't. What if we did something else, that required several people to attempt their first grapevine--this is a grapevine that steps back first, if you want to try it at home. It's one of the few things there doesn't need to be an advisory on, but for the most part, what the dancers do should most emphatically be labeled, DO NOT TRY THIS AT HOME.
We have done a run-through of sorts with the music and Rick Weed's excavator. All raise hands who think it might be hard to stand next to the excavator and hear the music of the pans. Some of us are counting like mad. Others are more relaxed, going with the flow. I'm not telling which I am. You'll never guess.
Q2 is amazing, though. Even from the prospect of a community member down in the quarrry rather than up on the edge, where you will be, there's a vastness and a remarkable surprising-ness that overtakes the sensations of heat and weariness we sometimes feel. Watching the gulls go picking their way along a series of rocks, or the baby porcupines (back, I think, by popular demand) scuttling and rolling along is enchanting. I still don't have a sense of what the whole will seem like from the audience, but, no doubt, you will. And now I have to go. Dress rhearsal tomorrow. My clothes are clean. My brights are almost bright enough. I remember what I have to do. False eyelashes? Whatdya think?
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