Flying

Ignoring the incredible gymnastics performed by the dancers on and off and around and under and through the huts, I'm going out on a limb here, and saying that seeing Felix fly was more than any of us expected. When he finished, everyone applauded.

Each rehearsal becomes more compicated and more dense. At Saturday's rehearsal there was the band, the flying, the backhoe, Quilla, the Primordials, the dancers and the community people. There was a lot to watch. And a lot to do.
Fortunately, for those of us in the quarry, it was cloudy and damp. Not a great day for sailing (see below) but fine for being in the quarry in July. As expected, the quarry is bigger than a breadbox. We all had to trot from side to side flying the turf behind us like a sail. The first try is fine; the second time is a little tiring. By the third or fourth effort, back and forth seems very far indeed. And there's all that stuff to think about. The turf has to sail--so you have to create some wind under it. That means jogging, or trotting, or running or whatever you call it. And of course with one's arms extended over one's head and slightly behind the vertical, there's a lot of posture to think about. You'll see.

Everyone in the fog

Sometimes, the quarry is like a Greek island in the summer--it's very white, the sky looks unbelievably blue, and it's hot. Very hot. Even on sunny but frigid winter days, if you pick your place, you can lounge in the sun. Wednesday was not like that. It was cool and foggy. Nice weather for dancing. Nice weather for wearing a piece of astro turf like a cape. And very nice weather for listening to the pan band.
One of the most interesting things about working with Alison is how non-linear it all is, at least in the formative stages. She has an idea, she has these willling bodies, and she gets to try to match them up. Most of the time, as you know if you have seen Quarryography or Pilobolus, the results are spectacular. There's no indication of the trial and error process, but that's what we had on Wednesday.

We shlepped that turf back and forth, putting it down, picking it up, rolling, unrolling, laying it out again. We put it here (too far), there (in the way of Rick and the backhoe), and then there (too close to Quilla). And we counted. Sixteen steps. Four counts to unroll. Eight counts to emote on the turf. Roll it up again. Move it. It was a nice cool day for shlepping.

This was the first rehearsal for the community members with the band. There they were, set up under a cabana tent, playing. Improvising longer vamps. Slowing it down and speeding it up. It's all good. And it all changes.

We didn't get to costumes, but I got to thinking that when I wear a hat and sweep that turf around, it pushed the hat right across my face, so I'm looking into the top of the hat. Probably not a good idea, what with the hardness of granite and the slippery ness of loose pebbles.

All that turfing is beginning to make some interesting shapes. I'll leave it to you to check them out. Oh--no pix. It was foggy enough that they look blurry.

All together now

Saturday was the first rehearsal with the dancers and the community together. It was most definitely NOT the Jets and the Sharks. We played well with others.
We (the community) got to do more with turf, wrapping it around ourselves, moving with it, moving on it, and trying to learn to flip it onto ourselves--think bullfighting, and particularly, Veronica. Success was mostly at hand, although turf is not as forgiving as you might think. Rather than being able to recline on grassy hillsides, we are constantly reminded that astroturf is not grass, being rougher and less organic. In short, it itches. And the greensward which we create for ourselves will be resting on granite, when we are not resting on granite ourselves. Think about kneeling without ever letting your knees hit the ground.
We all crammed into the huts, driving the dancers higher and higher, as we crowded the desirable real estate on the ground floor.

We also got to work with somewhat remodeled Primordials--their arms are free swinging now.
Being in Q2 is a little like being one of the blind men and the elephant (did I say that last year?). We see little parts, have "learned" the ending, but snuggled into the turf as we are, we miss some of what goes on right in front of us.
Next rehearsal we get to try everything with the music, in the quarry. It's hard to remember that the gym and the field behind the elementary school are much smaller than the space we will be moving in. What is a small trot today will be a real haul .

Here is a confusion of huts and dancers and community members. And a picture of Wendee and Tawanda, holding it all together.

Playing with props

Remember these guys? They're back. (seagulls, if you don't)

Most of this week the cast of dancers and puppets has been working while the rest of you are doing whatever it is that you do. For the dancers and puppeteers that means that however hot it is, or rainy, or damp, they are focussed on the coming production, and, as is usual with an Alison Chase/Mia Kanazawa production, learning to use large props and move in gymnastic and dangerous ways.


Here are some picutures of"Primodials," in an early incarnation. Here they have sticks attached to what would be their hands--like Thai shadow puppets. These pictures are from Thursday, July 15; by Saturday, July 17, they had lost the sticks managing the arms. Now the arms flow more. and appear longer. The puppets are about 15 feet tall, and are managed here by two dancers, not unusually tall themselves. It's a balancing act, not letting the puppets get too far out of plumb, or the wind and gravity can take over.

While the boys were playing with (BIG) toys, some of the women were warming up so they could climb on the huts.

From left to right, Jade Curtis, Stephanie Fungsong and Jessica Bend do plies in 2nd position. Pretty grounded, you might think.

And then, here they are in the air.

Stay tuned.

House and grounds

At Saturday's rehearsal we got to play with lots of props, none of which behaved as one would expect.
Unloading the huts from the car and van was a wonderful spectator sport. Although they are not heavy, and can be handled pretty easily by one or two people, they are awkward, and stable in some directions, but not others. It's a little like moving a section of monkey bars (Oh, sorry, if you didn't grow up in New York City, "jungle gym"). Getting them into the building was the beginning.

Mia unloads a hut from her car

A section of astro-turf is a pretty innocent thing until you try to wear it like a cape (pretty hot), wrap yourself in it, or snap it down on the ground, unrolled, in a single motion. We tried various ways of putting our hands on the edges, sometimes crossing our wrists, somtimes tucking our fingers under the edge. Of course none of this virtuoso finger work willl show, unless something terribe happens and one of us manages to mash our fingers between the dowels...It's all in the wrist, it turns out. A little like bull fighting without the blood.


Mark untangles the huts on the van

We rolled them, we unrolled them, we walked with them wrapped around our bodies and flying behind us. Sometimes it was easy; othertimes it would have been just as easy to use sod.

Then of course we stood on our own patch of turf

and did whatever we would do in our own back yards. We attempted swimming, fly fishing, yoga, dancing, sewing--you'll see. Some activities are more visible than others. And of course we don't yet know what the music will sound like. It's all like an exercise in maybe. But it is fun.

then he gets to wrestle

We tried out the binoculars and then tried to remember what it was we had done as birdwatcher the week before. Fortunaely the group memory (better in some group members than others) reconstructed what we had done. Then, of course, we changed it.

Working in a gym, big as it may be, is still not like being in a quarry--the size alone is another prop, or element, or factor. It's really there. So, when we trot happily from one end of the gym to another, and are not tired, or too hot, it's misleading


The trick is to do it on granite, with tiny loose pebbles underfoot, and the sun beaming down. Ah, the joys of art!

We are all looking forward to trying it out for real. We'll see how it goes. So will you.







Alison shows us how it goes.

Tawanda alone

Maybe you remember a gull from last year's performance in the Settlement Quarry. Maybe you remember Tawanda dangling from a backhoe. The way I remember Tawanda is the first time I saw him. I don't know which incarnation of Quarryography it was, but it was early in Cableman's life. And Tawanda's. (not mine, though). Anyway, here is this small man leaping off edges of the quarry to land five or so feet below, in bare feet. I was sure he'd snap one of his valuable ankles, or worse. Apparently not.

So, he's performed in the quarry maybe three or four times. And given wonderful workshops, in which we all had to be cranes (harder than you think), or harvesters, or just dance. All in second with deeply bent knees.

He will be performing solo at the Stonington Opera House on Wednesday evening. Seven p.m,, for five dollars. You should be there. He has been studying dance as a grad student at Southern Methodist University--they have a great dance department. It has to be interesting to see what he's done.

And we have the next rehearsal for Q2: Habitat on Saturday. We will practice bird-watching in the gym. See you Wednesday.

Quilla returns

Wednesday was one of those days. It was beautiful--the sun was shining, it wasn't too hot, and Cape Rosier glowed in the light. Of course for the intrepid puppeteers pushing Quilla along on the grass, it might not have felt so idyllic.
As you probably remember from last year, Quilla is a giant porcupine. You might not have seen her as she is now, a skeleton. This way you get to see what makes her move. Galley slaves. In this case, from front to back, Scott Springer, Skip Harbour and Sarah Doremus are the forces that make her move.

It's pretty easy to watch, but very complicated to get Quilla moving. She has four legs, and wheels. And the legs and feet are jointed--she has knees. Walking Quilla from the inside looks a little like rowing, but upsidedown.

Mark was the one who gave the puppeteers directions on how to make her move. For Sarah, this was a first time--the other two did it last year, but that didn't make the ground any smoother.

Finally they moved onto a graveled space, and were able to really move out. Quilla looked fabulous, if a little slim.

Most porcupines aren't so large that three adults can fit inside, but then again, most don't have starring roles in a theatrical production that takes place in a quarry. And most porcupines don't share the limelight with a bunch of dancers and a back hoe. All that makes Quilla very special. Alison is explaining the story and telling Zephyr Martin, who will be performing with Quilla, to look her in the eye.

Meanwhile Mark made some minor adjustments to Quilla with a hammer.

This duck will not be performing int he quarry. Too cute.