Story at the Quarry

the end?

2010-08-09T07:08:00.000-07:00

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.

Q2: Habitat--A Synopsis

2010-08-06T11:49:00.000-07:00

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.

opening night and another one

2010-08-04T16:42:00.001-07:00

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.

Q2 in Rehearsal!

2010-08-04T12:15:00.000-07:00

For MORE PICTURES check out Flickr.

not so fast

2010-08-03T10:15:00.000-07:00

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!

2010-08-03T08:07:00.000-07:00

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 .

It's getting close, all day at the quarry

2010-08-01T14:33:00.000-07:00

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?

Flying

2010-07-26T11:41:00.000-07:00

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

2010-07-22T17:36:00.000-07:00

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

2010-07-19T17:15:00.001-07:00

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

2010-07-17T12:41:00.000-07:00

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

2010-07-14T07:35:00.001-07:00

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

2010-07-05T17:07:00.000-07:00

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

2010-07-01T17:39:00.000-07:00

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.

first rehearsal

2010-06-27T08:08:00.000-07:00

First, if you were expecting sparkling writing, let me refer you to the first two posts I wrote this morning on this subject. The first one Microsoft ate, explaining that it had to shut down unexpectedly. In the second, during a misguided attempt to arrange the photos in a more appealing layout, the whole thing disappeared. Anyway, I was unable to retrieve it. Here it is again, slightly different, and already old. The first rehearsal for community participants in Q2; Habitat, was yesterday morning. Statistically, I can assume you were not there, as only about 10 or 12 of use were (besides Alison and Mia). Most of the community participants came "from away"--Brooksville. Two of us were from Deer Isle, and one, Stonington. Where were you when we needed you?

As you may recall from the first post about Mia and Primordial Man (this is indeed a quiz), Mia talked about turf, and how everyone wants a piece of it, and we all have to share it.

She failed to mention how stiff turf is, and how hard it is to bend it to your will, especially if you have to get it up from the ground and around your body in one smooth movement--like a Veronica, but without the bull. Anyway, we practiced putting it on, taking it off, laying it out and moving in it. Alison demonstrated (pink sneakers) and then various groups practiced moving in a line, weaving and serpentining like Alan Arkin in "The In-Laws."

It was fun, and the pictures created by tubular beings moving in various sequences is one of those things that's a lot more than the sum of its parts.

It would appear that bird-watching is what Sue Bergen has wanted to do her entire life.

process

2010-06-27T07:27:00.000-07:00

Mia says Primordial Man (and I'm not sure that's his name) looks quite different now. Here's how he gets to change. Long-suffering Mark puts the puppet on and staggers around a bit,
and Mia takes a look from a distance, to see what he might look like in the quarry, which is huge.

And here's a picture of Mia in a crane-puppet-head. The mysteries are boundless. What prompts these particular images, and, of course, how do you translate the images into reality. Even though Mia and Mark have a history of making giant puppets, it's pretty remarkable. And, for those of you who have elected not to be in Q2: Habitat, but to watch it (most of you), you miss seeing how big these things are in person, so to speak. It's a trip.

Puppets

2010-06-23T16:33:00.000-07:00

Hey! Now that the rains have come, I am back inside, leaving my garden to its own devices. Between the end of last year's Q2 Habitat and now, it seems that it faded from memory. I forgot about the giant porcupine, the backhoe, the hut people, the gulls, and even us (or me and others), the birdwatchers. The winter was consumed with another kind of dancing--this time indoors, on small stages--jazz, modern and something like what used to be called modern ballet. Anyway, we performed in places people could see our faces, and in the Cherryfield Elementary School (eat your hearts out, Broadway dancers) people could count the hairs on our heads if we had stood still long enough. That's so different from performing in the quarry there should be another name for one of those.

Here Mai is working on the head of a "Primordial." She thought that the features were too defined. The easy way, adding something outside the original face, is full of difficulties. She pointed out that anything loose could snag (either coming up or going down...) and that the weight of a puppet 15 feet tall is something to consider. Someone has to hold it up.

Mark is getting into the puppet harness. The puppet is largely pvc pipe and screening, but is still pretty scary, even bent over.

It's easy to forget, over the winter, how huge the quarry is. How big the performance space is, and what it must take to make an impact.

Mia Kanazawa and her husband Mark Kimchi have had that space in their minds all year. When I visited them and watched them work on a prototype "primordial." the size of the whole project came to life for me. The puppet is ominously large, and with its ghost-like face, pretty creepy. It seems not to have the innate joie de vivre that Cableman had (unless you saw him as an animated Golem, but that's your problem).

The casting call/first rehearsal for this year's Q2; Habitat is Saturday, and I'm very curious about what the call will be like--what we will see and do--and what the whole thing will be. Mia says it's all about turf. "We all want our piece of turf. We do; the animals do. It's all of a single piece, so we must find a way to share it. "

at last

2010-06-22T19:19:00.000-07:00

I kept looking and looking for the Story at the Quarry blog, thinking I had missed it. Well, here we are, and not a moment too soon. Saturday 10-12 at the Island Community Center in Stonington is the first casting, and if you ever thought you might like to participate in a big spectacle, here's your chance. As usual, Mia and Alison will be there asking odd and interesting things of those who show up. I have already pretended to be a sea gull (you can look at last year's posts). In the more distant past I pretended to be a small scrunchy animal that moved fast, but hunched over. It might be more comfortable for a hamster than it was for me. Carol Estey also tried it.

I drove out to Harborside on Cape Rosier to see Mia Kanazawa and her husband Mark Kinchi work on the puppets. If you have not seen an Alison/Mia/Quarry production, well, shame on you--but you can't imagine the scale of the whole project. One year it was Cableman, 15 feet tall, dangling from a backhoe when he wasn't strolling along animated by brave puppeteers. Last year there were porcupines--two sizes--small and cute and giant and glad you didn't meet it on a dark night in an alley.

This year--well, have a look at what might be a prototype. Or it might be something that doesn't work, but that doesn't mean no one worked on it.

I just got a message from Blogger that it could not be contacted (then how did I hear from it?)
Anyway, it doesn't look as if the pictures will show up today. So I'll try tomorrow.

Meanwhile, think about Saturday. Alice

Granite Legs

2010-04-01T09:26:00.000-07:00

The quarry was quiet, vast and a bit chilly as Mia, Alison and Nigel got their "granite legs" back today for the newest story from the quarry. Picking up some of the themes from last year - porcupines, hutters, bird watchers, seagulls and Quilla - and adding new - the Heron, purple loosestrife - the creative team has begun to populate the space and flesh out the action for this year's performance. Listening in on their conversation -"take the lid off the band," "density vs. white space," "travelling domesticity," "reordering of space," “we’ll need a little boulder arranging,” “if everyone brings a bucket of water," "primordials as acolytes," "acid-y green," and my favorite "a heron doesn't boogie" - I begin to imagine the warmer rocks, lively music, brightly colored structures and engaging performers awaiting us in August – not to mention the backhoe.

Is this au revoir

2009-08-10T07:08:00.002-07:00

If you missed it, you missed it for this year. And, according to my friends (hardly impartial, but that doesn't matter) you missed a wonderful spectacle. Never mind Matt sliding down silk 30 feet in the air, upside down, without a net; never mind Tawanda, dressed as a gull, leaping tall boulders at a single bound; never mind assorted dancers tumbling on rickety-looking aluminum-pipe huts. You missed seeing us bird-watchers peak. We moved in unison with each other AND THE BAND. Had you been at rehearsals, you would know what a triumph is was. We were fantastic!
I would say come back next year to see us even better, but although we will all be better and better in every way, there's no way of knowing that we'll be doing the same things.
My money is on change, because this is, as anyone who participated in it will tell you, an evolving work.
That's it for me for now. I have a photography show in Kingfield to get ready for.

Is this au revoir

2009-08-10T07:08:00.001-07:00

Trust me

2009-08-07T08:39:00.001-07:00

At a recent outdoor concert by a Cuban hip-hop group, my friend turned to me and said: "This is quite a spectacle to watch." He was referring to the dance component of the concert -- the hip grinds, the slips and slides, the hand gestures. Anyone who has watched MTV or TV dance competitions has become accustomed to seeing this kind of movement. It's part of our everyday world now. Like the way sports are ubiquitous in the media, dance has started to find a place in the mainstream.

And yet, and yet ... I wonder how many people have actually been to a live dance performance on a stage or, in the case of this blog, at a quarry? And how many of us think: Dance? Dance? I don't get dance.

My answer? Yes, you do. Understanding dance is as easy as watching a Cuban hip-hop singer gyrate onstage. You get it. She's sexy. She's groovin'. She feels the music. It makes sense because you're familiar with what she's doing. You've seen it on TV. Or maybe you've even done it at home. (Don't worry; your secret is safe with me.)

"The more you go to dance, the more you see," said Alison Chase, choreographer for Q2: Habitat, which opens this evening and runs through tomorrow at the Settlement Quarry in Stonington. I asked her how she'd like people to "understand" dance -- what skills do they need to "get" it?

"Trust your own responses," she said.

OK, great start. But there's more you can do ahead of time.

For instance: You're at a quarry. The title of the piece is Habitat. There's gotta be a clue in there somewhere.

Also, you can spend a few moments reading other blog entries on this site, OR check out Emily Burnham's recent story in the Bangor Daily News.

The point is: You don't have to go in cold. Or you can. You don't have to think about it beforehand. Or you can. You don't have to know the entire history of dance. Or any of it. But it's also OK if you know all of it.

Follow Chase's advice. You'll get it. Pay attention to whatever draws your eye rather than what you think you should be looking at. You'll feel something. Trust me. Then trust yourself.

neither rain...

2009-08-05T19:34:00.000-07:00

Tempus fugit and all that. Today was the rehearsal before the dress rehearsal before the performance. By the time we community members (bird-watchers) arrived, the sky was getting very dark. As we took our places, Whitney pointed out that she is not local, and wanted to know what locals did or knew about lightning. I answered (being more local than she, having lived her 13 years, but still definitely from away) that really, locals or semi-locals didn't have a bead on lightning.
We all concluded that the cars present (two, I think) and the truck (one, but big) would suffice to keep us safe. Especially since the tower was taller than we are. We just planned to stay off the tower. Also no one was flying a kite with a key on it.
As we stood thinking things over I heard a drop of rain splat on my pink hat. It was followed by many more, and we all fled to the dryness of the truck. We stood and sat inside. Wendee took a nap with her head on her backpack. Stephanie ate an energy bar; Emily snacked on mustardy pretzels. I drank some water and sweated, in a friendly way. The rain, visible beyond the open back of the truck, seemed to be coming down in sheets. It didn't last long, and out we went.
And we ran through pieces of the performance. Nigel's band played and we counted. And counted. We did what we do, then did it again. And we weren't the only ones. The porcupines and the gulls did their thing. Carol mimed being a truck (you had to be there). Much of the cast had been at the quarry since 12 or 1 pm. We (bird-watchers) arrived at 3.
Even with time out for rain, we got a lot accomplished. We smoothed out some of what we do; we fixed entrances and exits, and checked out one short cut that I think we would need crampons and carabiners to use.
Tomorrow is a dress rehearsal. I'm not sure whether I'm wearing my new pants from the Turnstyle so they are not new at all, or some pants I've had for, I think, 27 years. I'm pretty sure I'm wearing sneakers.
It's coming together. I expect to see you through my binoculars, sitting on the edge of the quarry, watching us. We certainly will be worth watching.

About the time

2009-08-03T12:45:00.000-07:00

The blog I wrote today was posted at about 3:40 pm--the times on the blog are out of joint.

staggering through

2009-08-03T12:02:00.001-07:00

Porcupines examine a truck.

Mia has a conversation with a gull.

Mary and Jessica take five

Carol and Alison watch.

Backhoe with background.

Alison gathers the troops for the stagger-through.

Maybe I'd better explain. A stagger-through (and I've only ever heard Alison use the term) is like a run-through, only not quite so smooth. A run-through of a show, ideally, starts with the opening scene and goes until the end, without stopping. Right. Except there's almost always a reason to stop--people forget their lines, the blocking isn't working, people are standing where there's no light, or where there's a dead spot on the stage, and no one can hear them.

So, Saturday was to be a stagger through. There were only a couple of gliches. One of them has to do with the time-space continuum. Lately there have been, not one, but two programs on BBC America having to do with time travel (make that three, if you add Primeval, in which prehistoric and from-the-futures monsters come through a whole in time into the 21st century)--Dr. Who and Torchwood. In each case, time is slightly askew. A run-through is a little like that.

Us bird-watchers (in the theatrical sense) know pretty much what we are doing. What we don't know is WHERE or WHEN. Of, for that matter, just what preceeds and follows what we do. Or where we go when we are done.

Oh, you say, of course you know. Let me remind you, a quarry is not like a proscenium stage. There are a zillion possible entrances and exits. And Q2: Habitat, a spectacle with seagulls, trucks, giant porcupines and steel-drum (pan) band isn't exactly Giselle. It isn't even Swan Lake, despite the presence of feathered dancers. In fact, it isn't like anything else.

We go to our temporary spots and discover that the music doesn't last long enough. Alison, Mia and Nigel fix that. We change spots and find out that we have become invisible--our clothes have merged into the background. We think through our wardrobes at home--what else could we wear? And some of us discover that the music is hard to distinguish. When, exactly, do we begin? And how long do we hold that? The answer is a tough one--practice.

We try again (so much for staggering through). This time it is better--at least for us. And so it goes.

Remember the blind men and the elephant? Being a performer is a little like that--at the beginning you focus on what you are doing, and the rest is peripheral.

Saturday, it began to make sense. We got to see the why of the seagulls and the porcupiines. I don't think I'll tell you that bit--you can find out for yourself. Meanwhile, I'm practicing looking for the confusing fall warblers, which ought to be around any week now. See you in the quarry. This weekend.

Stunned in the Sun

2009-08-03T06:21:00.000-07:00

Saturday, August 1 was surprising: the fog and gray lifted, and a full summer sun beat down on the granite flat top of our quarry stage. This was the first day all components of the new show OHA is producing, Quarryography 2: Habitat, were together: the professional dance ensemble, the community ensemble, the heavy equipment operators, the steel pan band. Together, they were working out a completely new and surprising "story at the quarry:" one full of drama and suspense (what will happen in the encounter between the excavator, in residence to build someone's "dream home" on site, and the Big Mama Porcupine and her babies?);
surprise (how does Rick's excavator always become so anthropomorphic?); and humor (dream house as jungle gym). It's all happening, it's all in process--and you can become part of that process when you attend the work-in-development productions this weekend, August 7-9, at the Settlement Quarry. Advance tickets are necessary and parking is very limited. You can buy your tix online, and download a map, at http://www.operahousearts.org/; or call 207-367-2788 and order from our box office.

Well, you can dance

2009-08-03T04:04:00.000-07:00

Switching gears now, kids, because, while I'm not done thinking about Shakespeare, I'm moving on to dance for a while. Last week, the giant choreographer Merce Cunningham died at 90 -- if you don't know him, read the comprehensive New York Times obituary by Alastair Macaulay.
Cunningham's death got me thinking about form in dance. A few year back, Anna Kisselgoff -- another great dance writer -- reprimanded me for reading too much story into a dance work. It's about form and movement, she said, not about your silly story-making. (That's a paraphrase.)
But I'm as devoted to narrative as Kisselgoff and Cunningham are devoted to form. So I was thrilled to hear Q2: Habitat choreographer Alison Chase, at the Stonington Opera House in Maine, describe her two Quarryography works as "narrative spectacles."
For more background on the two-year Quarryography diptych, spend some time surfing the Story at the Quarry blog. More succinctly: Chase is working on her second major site-specific choreography at the Settlement Quarry on Deer Isle. She includes professional dancers, some of whom are from her time with the famous dance troupe Pilobolus, of which she was a co-founder. Many others come from the community.
It's that community part that got me thinking about form. We all know professional dancers are trained. Presumably they can move in ways we find pleasing and thrilling. But Joe Fisherman onstage? I'm sorry; I'm thinking he's not going to be my Dancing-with-the-Stars dream guy.
I'm wrong. Chase filled me in: "Those community-and-professional dynamics allow a wider range so that you get a variety of gestural exploration. Because someone isn't a trained dancer doesn't mean they don't have a range of expression. We're always amazed at the power of simplicity. Once we get rolling, it's exciting to see the exchange between non-dancing adults and trained dancers."
In other words, she's not looking for a perfect plie out of Joe Fisherman. She's looking for an "individual expressive quality." And that information helps her shape the overall piece. She finds a dance move where it's least expected and then uses it. Ah, back to form.
That's perfect for Q2 because, as an event, it's happening in an unexpected place: a quarry. Which is where "narrative spectacle" comes in.
"It's about habitat, about who inhabits that space," said Carol Estey, production manager and the Opera House co-founder whose roots on the island go back to childhood. (She's in the picture here rehearsing with Chase.) The people who will "inhabit" the quarry at the sneak-preview-in-development Aug. 7 and 8, and then again in its premiere in 2010 are going to look a little like you and me -- except for those pro dancers in the group. And it's not just because Chase wants to see the unexpected. It's because she has a story to tell, and some of that story comes from the bodies of local residents.
"People have always wanted to perform," said Estey, who is a trained dancer. "People have always wanted to be in things. They realize now they can be, and they don't have to have as much skill as they have to have commitment and desire. They see the possibility."

posted with photos by Alicia Anstead on ShakeStonington.blogspot.com

Some big props arrive in the fog

2009-07-30T06:55:00.000-07:00

T Tawanda at rest.

Steward George Fields had just finished this bench, halfway up, near the glacial striations sign. I was the first person to sit on it. I did not carve my initials in the bench. You'll just have to trust me.

You may have last seen Matt Kent hanging by one hand from the backhoe. Here he is as a scary gull. But Matt is very shy, otherwise.

The BIG porcupine in the mist.

And the porcupine with a person.

Rick and the backhoe on the road.

The backhoe and the tower on their way into the quarry.

Seduced by the promise of a look at the big porcupine, the bigger backhoe and the slender tower, I went back to the quarry on Wednesday, drifting down to Stonington along with the fog. I turned onto Oceanville Road, but could go no further. Two of the stars of Q2: Habitat, were taking up the road. Rick Weed and the backhoe were going toward the quarry, but they had stopped to talk to Charlie Peabody in his truck, headed the other way. They blocked the road for a while, then split. I followed the backhoe down the road.

The dancers were hanging out in the mist, having just finished working, and about to do some more. Meanwhile, some were lying on the ground, as if a fog-tan was the goal; others practiced lifts, while Tawanda perched, first on a rock, then on the structures that look like outlines of little houses.

And the porcupine was a big as expected. Full of puppeteers, it lumbered across the quarry. The fog was sliding in, they had hours of rehearsal left, and I was hungry. I went home, hoping for better weather. We'll see.

seagulls and porcupines Oh my!

2009-07-29T10:19:00.000-07:00

Alison talks to the porcupines. They appear to listen.

Porcupines on the move. Slowly.

A flurry of gulls takes off.

Gulls.

Alison in the quarry, rounding up the gulls.

Gulls, living right on the edge.

Tuesday, July 28, was the first day in the quarry for the dancers from away (plus Wendee, who was here) and the porcupine costumes. It was the second time for the gull costumes, but this time they were inhabited by dancers. And it was sunny. On Sunday the bullfrog in the new pond by the edge of the amphitheater was quite vocal. This time he was pretty quiet.

And Wendy Schweikert was putting the finishing touches on a porcupine.

It was like all rehearsals, except bigger and hotter. Maybe CBDeMille worked in similar places. In order to be heard in the vastness, Alison had to pitch her voice. And in order to be seen, the dancers had to move big and fast, except for the porcupines, who moved big, low and slowly.

At this stage, like all productions, it looks as if the parts are going to be way bigger than the whole. The puzzle of putting it all together is out of the performers' hands (or feet, or wings...) for the most part, but resting on Alison and Mia's shoulders. There's still the pan band to fit in; the birdwatchers--and let's not forget Rick Weed's backhoe and Charlie Peabody's truck...

The babies who were there (Matt and Emily Kent's son Owen and Todd Devinish and Wendee Rogerson's son Everett) are not going to be in the production. They, along with an assortment of people who went to the quarry to look around and found something very interesting to look at, were just watching.

not being a seagull

2009-07-28T06:56:00.001-07:00

I was all set to be a seagull, and was accustoming myself to scrounging scraps from the tourists strolling the streets of downtown ! Stonington, fresh off the boat (them, schooners, not me). Alas! or maybe hoorah!, it was not to be.
Us intrepid community members, out numbers now significantly increased by more than 100%, are probably not going to be gulls. We may be birdwatchers. To that end, the six or seven or eight of us spent time in the elementary school gym on Saturday, spotting basketball hoops, bleachers, lights, scoreboards and Mia and Alison. We pointed, sneaked, bent down low and then looked right into the rafters, all the while using binoculars which must be seen to be believed.
We tried moving in canon (that's one and then another), moving as a group, and standing, sitting, looking and emoting.
Someone did a wonderful movement. We all copied it, and then the originator couldn't reproduce it. We counted. We whispered to each other. We had it.

Sunday, we did similar things in the quarry. If you don't know this, let me tell you from experience from dancing in the quarry three previous times: GRANITE IS HARD. And pebbles are slippery. And what looks perfectly level from 30 or 40 feet away is, in fact, indented, slanty,
chipped and otherwise not what you would expect from a dance floor.

We didn't fall. We moved in something like unison. We were very far apart--wait until you see it. Meanwhile, I'm the one with the red hair. Or pink hat. Or not.

All the dancers are finally here. Carol and I, for want of something better to do, drove up to the Bangor Airport to pick up five young nubile flexible talented and beautiful dancers (wait until you see them!), three of whom had been here before. Lest you think they came by plane, allow me to disabuse you of that. They drove up in a rental, and we picked them up, not coming off a plane with hugs and kisses, but getting out of an SUV in the Hertz section of the parking lot. With hugs and kisses. Since three had been in Quarryography, they knew to treat Deer Isle like a foodless wilderness, and had cleverly gone to Hannaford to stock up. I didn't ask on what. Maybe I'll ask them....

It's really going to happen.

Anything for a free lunch

2009-07-21T16:43:00.000-07:00

The sweatshop in Mia's studio.

Here's Mark Kindschi modifying the skeleton of the world's largest porcupine.

Huts or summeer houses? Come to Q2: Habitat and see!

Porcupine pelt in the making.

Carol sews! Well, cuts. It's the legs for the gulls.

July 21, and all is well.

Gluttons for punishment or just plain gluttons? Hard to know. A group of us, ladies all, answered Mia's job listing for sweatshop workers, to put the quills on the porcupines. (You can sing that to the tune of " Put de lime on de coconut....) The carrot was a free lunch. Although delicious: sesame noodles, marinated cucumber salad and green salad, with optional bread, maybe it wasn't really free. Not even if you factor the blueberry cake into it.

What we did was sew bunches of raffia onto the blanket-like pelts of the porcupines to be. All in the service of our art, it was. Even Carol Estey got to work--she was cutting out the leggings. No doubt she got that job because of her terpsichorean expertise. You never can be sure. After all, there is such a thing as pure blind luck. So she didn't have to thread the bulky raffia in the eye of a needle, even a big needle, and loop it into the fabric, pull it clear, line it up, fluff it out and tie a know so to would stick out, not lie flat. No squares. No square knots.

Meanwhile Mark was out in the Entropy Forge working on the metal frame/skeleton for the mother of all porcupines. It's on wheels. It's big. It was partly paid for by a grant from the Jim Henson Foundation. They know a good puppet when they read about one, and this is a doozy.

Having seen Cableman dance and bow in the quarry, I'm looking forward to watching the porcupine do her stuff. Should be fabulous. If you want to join in the fun, it's not too late. CALL 367-2788 and tell them I sent you. Maybe I'll see you in the quarry.

casting call--with props and costumes July 19

2009-07-20T13:28:00.000-07:00

Kim is a seagull.

Mia and Carol are birdwatchers.

Alison and Carol spy a bird (must be Kim).

So where were you? Huh? I was there--so were Carol, Mia, Alison (in charge) and Betsy and Kim. Where were the rest of you "community people?" We had a wonderful time trying on the gull hat, wings and then seeing what moving in them felt like. The binoculars were easier to use, mostly because they had no lenses. It's all in the focus.

Quarryography was full of milkweed pods, blocks of granite and some of us in very odd, elaborate dresses. Alison is thinking maybe shorts under the wings--Mia has made wonderful yellow and orange leggings that make legs look like bird-legs, but a little more substantial.

Trying to fly up in the air like a startled gull, whirl around a little, hover and settle is surprisingly comforting--it's an opportunity to see what it might be like to be a gull, but without the french fries.

The next rehearsal is Saturday at 10, and I expect that now that you have read this there will be an absolute dash for the gull hats, a little like Filene's basement on a good day. I'm ready. Maybe because I was there I get my choice? Nah. See ya.

Seen on a Rooftop in Brooksville

2009-07-18T10:01:00.000-07:00

This is just one of the many wonderful images that Mia and Alison have been preparing for the August sneak peak of Q2: Habitat. Carol has arrived in town to handle all details and dancers arrive next Sunday. Meanwhile we are calling for community members of all types to join in the fun, become part of a tribe of birdwatchers, trees, rebels, etc. No experience necessary. Tribes will use enhanced pedestrian movements. Casting call tomorrow (Sunday, July 18) at 1 pm at the DI/S Elementary School gym. Or if you can't make that, please call 367-2788.

2009-07-13T09:57:00.000-07:00

Hello fellow Habitat-ites. I'm heading to the island tomorrow. Three day drive from Columbia, MO, to join the craziest lot in town and bring wonderful things to light on the Quarry stage. Can't wait to see everyone. Say, are you coming to the auditions on Sunday? We need you. Yes, you, reading this. :) Carol

entrances and exits

2009-07-12T06:10:00.000-07:00

This is the peerformance ampitheater seen from above.

Where it is wet, it was bone-dry for the last Quarryography performance. Some of the dancers, me included, hit behind the horizontal rock--and our problem was gravel, not water.

The dance floor

A cableman progenitor

Left--one of the trails the audience will walk up needs a little work.
.Anne Hooke (IHT) shows Jennifer Morrow (OHA) a map of the trails. George Fields (IHT) looks on

Entrances and Exits

Usually a theater has a stage door, guaarded by a guy named Charlie with a cigar in his mouth. Performers and stage crew walk by him with a wave, and everyone else is barred from entry. If you want to catch a performer you wait outside in the rain with your little autograph book in your hand, or you make an appointment, and Charlie has your name on a list. Audience members enter through the lobby.

When your theater is a quarry with big open spaces and lots of trails, some ending on the edges of cliffs, and your are expecting a couple of hundred people to make the trek up either the main road/trail or a trail from the water-side, it's hard to control where people might end up.

Such a big production needs a staging area, dressing room and a place for the performers to hang out, preferably out of sight of the audience.

Ann Hooke and George Fields, IHT, met Linda Nelson and Jennifer Morrow (OHA) at the quarry on a gorgeous July morning to figure it all out. Walking the trails up and down, figuring out where they needed signs telling people which way to go, or not go, the four noted rough spots that need trimming, confusing spots that need volunteers to watch and places that are just not passable.

Ann had the map and a clipboard and they all walked. The walk started at the parking lot for all, then from the top of the quarry everyone walked down to the bottom. It sounds more onerous than it was--the day was drop dead beautiful. And by the end of an hour, they had it figured out.

Still, looking at that open space, it was hard to imagine it filled with heavy equipment, a steel drum band and an assortment of performers wearing exotic costumes. One year it was pink granite blocks that balanced on our heads. Beanies with wands extending from them--milkweed. And ball gowns. Tutus. This year it might be vinyl wings, tried out by the 7th-graders earlier. There's no knowing.

One thing is a constant--that fabulous quarrry. Stone underfoot, hard and unyielding. It's worse when it's slippery with water.

entrances and exits

2009-07-12T05:43:00.001-07:00

2009-07-04T17:14:00.000-07:00

2009-07-04T17:12:00.000-07:00

2009-07-04T17:10:00.000-07:00

Pictures from the parade

2009-07-04T17:05:00.000-07:00

parades

2009-07-04T16:59:00.000-07:00

Here's the news. It did not rain on July 4th . In fact, it did not rain on the parade. Amidst the flags, kiddies in VERY cute poses, horses, boy scouts and Haystack carrying its own cloud was OHA. and there he was, making his first public appearance this year--Cableman. Admittedly he did not have the space to demonstrate his unique grace and power. In fact, he was pretty much confined by the width or narrowness of the road. Still, it was a thrill to see him, looking not a year older than last year. Alison (Chase) hung off the side of the cab of the truck and Mia (Kanazawa) walked along with a block of granite on her head. I mean, we all knew the granite was costume, but it looked pretty real. The truck was prop rather than costume. It all served to whet my appetite for more. And more.
Cableman did not show up on the Stonington Fish Pier for the Fish'n'Fritters. He was home rehearsing. I'm going to the fireworks. Maybe I'll see you there.
Alice

So You Never Know

2009-07-03T08:12:00.000-07:00

Mia was recently at a doctor's appointment on the Island and saw this radio tower lying in the grass and went inside and asked the receptionist Brenda Merrill about it. It was taken down back when the addition was put in. Realizing it would be a great "prop", she asked if we could use it for Q2. After putting it to the Board of Trustees, they said that "Yes, you can- that it would great use for it!"

So, this year we will put up one 20' section of the tower. Rick Weed has generously agreed to pick it up, deliver one section to the quarry and store the rest at his place. The plan is to use the granite blocks that Rick had set up around the "upstage" edge of the quarry and reposition them as "rubble" which will also serve as anchor points for guy wires for the tower.

You never know where you will find what you need.

Now does anyone have an empty portable storage unit?

2009-06-26T15:29:00.000-07:00

Artist Mia Kanazawa discusses her work at the Reach Performing Arts Center. A part of OHA's production Q2: Habitat.

dancing off the stones

2009-06-12T12:06:00.000-07:00

While we're all thinking about dancing in the quarry, wearing sneakers and protective auras, let's not forget about another dance world, this one on Fox TV. If you're not watching "So You Think You Can Dance," shame on you. If you like dance at all any way any time, this is really must-see. Ignore the pandering to and of the judges, the stupid cutenesses, and concentrate on looking at what people can do with their bodies. The dancers are paired at random, and then are given dance styles at random: Susie and Johnny and Latin dance, for example, even if Susie is a "Contemporary " dancer (can someone explain what that it? It seems like modern dance without the edge, performed in halter tops and biker shorts) and Johnny is a hip-hopper from LA. Not to mention the odd styles of hip hopping: locking, popping, skanking (or maybe skank is the adjective).
Of course it's a competition, and of course people get voted off, but it's not too traumatic for those of us sitting on our couches with our feet in parallel first. Alice

Collaborative School Residency

2009-06-09T10:56:00.000-07:00

The Many Habitats of the Settlement Quarry

2009-06-08T10:07:00.000-07:00

"...the plant consisted of nine dericks, three engines, one traveling crane, one locomotive, two compressors, sixteen steam or pneumatic drills...." The great thing about creating performance at the Settlement Quarry is just this: it is an unbelievable combination of habitats: filled with bird song and wild creatures, as well as with the echoes and detritus of its industrial past and human present. Artists Mia Kanazawa and Alison Chase will recreate one of those famous dericks, and put it to an entirely new use in Q2: Habitat; the birds and their songs, the porcupines and spruce, will take magnified shape and life in the costumes of dancers and the objects animated by puppeteers. Using the derick and an excavator, a compressor on a tow truck, participants will operate a winch across the amphitheater floor: a slow moving cable expressing the ceaseless motion of the change all of us bring to our desired and selected habitats. The quarry bears the visible traces of all its inhabitants; and through the shared experience of performance we will all get the chance to be immersed in these past, present, and imagined futures in new ways.

Settlement Quarry

2009-06-06T12:03:00.001-07:00

Settlement Quarry granite is 360 million years old. That's a long story, needless to say.... I'll hop right to 1900 when the Quarry opened. According to a 1908 publication succinctly titled Stone, "...the plant consisted of nine dericks, three engines, one traveling crane, one locomotive, two compressors, sixteen steam or pneumatic drills...." Well, you get the picture. Granite was in demand then and this quarry's stone still stands the test of time supporting the Williamsburg and Manhattan Bridges, protecting the New York County Courthouse, Boston Museum of Fine Arts and the Kennedy Memorial in Arlington Cemetery.

Today, the clank, roar and screech of industry is replaced by a chorus of bird song. Spectacularly so, if you visit early in the morning during the spring warbler migration, as these folks did a few weeks ago. Island Heritage Trust now owns and cares for this historic property. It is open to the public whether you have two legs or four, wings or wigglabilty. Please visit and let us know who you met there at our "wildlife sightings" page on www.islandheritagetrust.org.

2009-06-05T10:55:00.000-07:00

and some 7th-grade seagulls.

2009-06-05T10:35:00.000-07:00

Girls with wings--the 7th-grade girls try out their wings in the Settlement Quarry. Tawanda looks on from the right; Mia Kanazawa and Alison Chase are watching from the quarry's edge.

Thursday at the Quarry with the 7th grade

2009-06-05T10:22:00.000-07:00

June 4th, a sunny, hot Thursday provided an early view of what Q2:HABITAT might look like if performed solely by 7th-graders from Deer Isle Stonington Elementary School. Mia Kanazawa stood in the quarry looking at what her costumes, sea-gull heads and wings right now, might look like in motion. The kids, enthusiastically directed by Tawanda Chabikwa, who had been on hand at the school all week working with the kids, moved, shuffled, danced, lounged, chewed gum and resisted. A group of kids wearing the seagull hats drifted across the far side (from where I was standing) of the quarry, looking a lot like people on a forced march. Contrast that with the girls with the wings, rehearsing and planning what they were supposed to do: "first we lean this way, then that way, we bend down, run around ...lean." And then they did it.
For a moment they seemed airborne, their white vinyl wings streaming out behind their arms as they circled and settled. Like birds.
Another group had one girl in a seagull hat perch on top of a platform of 7-grade bodies. She leaned out. Mia wanted to see what it would look like with wings as well as a hat. Her moment aloft was brief, but startling.

Welcome

2009-06-02T11:40:00.000-07:00

Welcome to the blog for Q2: Habitat, the second multidiscipline production staged in the historic granite quarries of Stonington, Maine. Q2 is a sneak peak of this in development story from artists Alison Chase, Mia Kanazawa, Nigel Chase; and our community at Island Heritage Trust’s Settlement Quarry. The original production, Quarryography, took place in August 2007 at the Settlement. Check out the video below.