X

please support

Enjoy your extinction #1 from darkroasted on Vimeo.

...
Ἀκαδήμεια
inanimadvertisement
τραῦμα
X

Comments (0)

Permalink

Copenhagen, 5 – 6 July, including N. Bohr, H.C. Andersen, S. Kierkegaard, an American tourist prostrates herself at the foot of Grundtvig, Father of Denmark, and Danny Kaye makes mermaid pop star

DSC_0086 DSC_0087 DSC_0089 DSC_0090 DSC_0091 DSC_0092 DSC_0094-1 DSC_0088 DSC_0093 DSC_0095 DSC_0096 DSC_0097 DSC_0098 DSC_0100 DSC_0099 DSC_0101 DSC_0102 DSC_0106 DSC_0107 DSC_0109 DSC_0110 DSC_0108 DSC_0111 DSC_0113 DSC_0114 DSC_0115 DSC_0117 DSC_0119 DSC_0116 DSC_0120 DSC_0121 DSC_0122 DSC_0123 DSC_0124 DSC_0125 DSC_0126 DSC_0128 DSC_0129 DSC_0130 DSC_0131 DSC_0132 DSC_0133 DSC_0134 DSC_0136 DSC_0137 DSC_0138 DSC_0139 DSC_0140 DSC_0141 DSC_0142 DSC_0143 DSC_0144 DSC_0145 DSC_0146 DSC_0147 DSC_0148 DSC_0149

...
hommangerie
infemmarie
on tour
porte-parole
snap
X

Comments (0)

Permalink

Stockholm, 2 – 3 July

DSC_0087-1

DSC_0088

DSC_0089

DSC_0090

DSC_0091-1

DSC_0092-1DSC_0093 DSC_0094 DSC_0095 DSC_0096 DSC_0097DSC_0098-1 DSC_0099-1 DSC_0100-1 DSC_0101-1 DSC_0103-1DSC_0105 DSC_0106-1 DSC_0107-1 DSC_0108-1 DSC_0109DSC_0111 DSC_0114-1 DSC_0115-1 DSC_0116-1 DSC_0119DSC_0118 DSC_0120 DSC_0121-1 DSC_0123 DSC_0124DSC_0125 DSC_0126 DSC_0127 DSC_0128 DSC_0130DSC_0131 DSC_0132 DSC_0135 DSC_0136 DSC_0138DSC_0139 DSC_0140 DSC_0141 DSC_0142 DSC_0143DSC_0145 DSC_0146 DSC_0147 DSC_0148 DSC_0149DSC_0150-1 DSC_0151 DSC_0152 DSC_0153 DSC_0154DSC_0155-1 DSC_0156 DSC_0157 DSC_0158 DSC_0159DSC_0160 DSC_0164 DSC_0165 DSC_0166 DSC_0168DSC_0169 DSC_0167 DSC_0170 DSC_0171 DSC_0172DSC_0173 DSC_0174 DSC_0175 DSC_0176 DSC_0177DSC_0178 DSC_0179 DSC_0180 DSC_0181 DSC_0182

(&&&[Deleuze])=-1...
...
detraque
immedia
on tour
porte-parole
theatrum philosophicum
Trans-European Express
X

Comments (0)

Permalink

Stockholm, 27 June – 1 July

DSC_0105 DSC_0106 DSC_0107 DSC_0108 DSC_0109 DSC_0110-1 DSC_0111 DSC_0113 DSC_0115 DSC_0117 DSC_0121 DSC_0122 DSC_0123 DSC_0124 DSC_0125 DSC_0141 DSC_0142 DSC_0143 DSC_0145 DSC_0146 DSC_0147 DSC_0148 DSC_0160 DSC_0161 DSC_0162 DSC_0181 DSC_0182 DSC_0116-1 DSC_0126 DSC_0163

(&&&[Deleuze])=-1...
...
Ἀκαδήμεια
luz es tiempo
on tour
snap
theatrum philosophicum
Trans-European Express
X

Comments (0)

Permalink

Tokyo-Stockholm, 26 June – 27 June

DSC_0088 DSC_0090 DSC_0091-1 DSC_0093 DSC_0094 DSC_0095 DSC_0096-1 DSC_0097-1 DSC_0098-1 DSC_0099 DSC_0101 DSC_0102 DSC_0104

(&&&[Deleuze])=-1...
...
Ἀκαδήμεια
on tour
Trans-European Express
X

Comments (0)

Permalink

MINUS THEATRE DAY OF FILMING 11 January 2015 (at Lot23, stills by Lernie Ang)

DSCF2282_c.jpg DSCF2292_c.jpg DSCF2316_e.jpg DSCF2314_c.jpg DSCF2304_c.jpg DSCF2303_c.jpg DSCF2301_c.jpg DSCF2323_e.jpg DSCF2334_c.jpg DSCF2336_c.jpg DSCF2339_c.jpg DSCF2390_e.jpg DSCF2384_e.jpg DSCF2376_e.jpg DSCF2359_c.jpg DSCF2345_c.jpg DSCF2394_e.jpg DSCF2402_e.jpg DSCF2406_c.jpg DSCF2410_e.jpg DSCF2420_c.jpgDSCF2428_e DSCF2439_c DSCF2443_e DSCF2448_c DSCF2454_e DSCF2455_c DSCF2457_c DSCF2458_c DSCF2463_c DSCF2467_e DSCF2475_e DSCF2481_c DSCF2486_c DSCF2492_c DSCF2497_c DSCF2498_c DSCF2522_c DSCF2527_c DSCF2554_c DSCF2572_c

...
advertisement
Ἀκαδήμεια
luz es tiempo
theatricality
theatrum philosophicum
thigein & conatus
X

Comments (0)

Permalink

Re: grouping – Minus Theatre’s change of phase, AGM & 3rd Project

following an earlier post, here, for a hopeful workshop, which was cancelled, Minus Theatre’s weekly workshops were cancelled, not just this hopeful one, until the group of past and future members came together, Tuesday 18 November to talk about our 3rd Project – for the Auckland Fringe Festival, February 11 – 1 March 2015. You were invited to attend, email info@minustheatre.com … and some of you did. Thank you.

This means a change in the way we work. There now appears to be a goal, the performances coinciding with the Fringe, and a requirement for regular practice/workshop/rehearsal sessions leading up to it. But it is this not so much. What we present for the Fringe will be a work in progress and not the end result of adequate planning. The planning we need to engage in at this point does entail a change in methodology but from the point of view of epistemology.

Weekly workshops have been central to the methodology of Minus Theatre Research Group until now. The method we have developed since March this year, called ‘theatre of the individual life’, allows for a minimum workshop attendance of one. One person – it could be me! It could be me closely observing and analysing my own physical and verbal expressions, to be able to dis-organise these ‘symptoms’ (in contrast to ‘signs’ which have meaning) in the place of my body, in the space of the studio, in the time of the audience – an audience of one, too, me!

In practice, this has never happened. Although the option was given, when we had only a few participants, of whether to go ahead or chat, eat cake and drink coffee and tea, the smallest groups for the workshops were a minimum of three, including me. And sometimes even a larger group chose cake over theatre, which is hardly surprising, given the beautiful home baking. (The coffee’s not bad, either: an incentive for potential Minus Theatre members!)

After Textured Passages, September 8, 12, it was more usual for the several people who came to workshops, still then being held on a weekly basis, to want to sit and chat – the exception became the rule. I asked myself why, given a method which determinedly does not make a precondition of the whole group turning up – a source of frustration when running rehearsals with a set cast in the past – why should we not conduct the workshop with the one person, the two people who do turn up?

Two possible answers occurred to me: a lackadaisical attitude brought about by familiarity and regularity – if the workshops are going to be held anyway, does the individual feel needed enough to come along? In addition, Textured Passages was a massive undertaking with relatively little preparation. We incorporated musical resources, used costumes – albeit schematic and generic; we took on a difficult space, a gallery, where audiences were unsure what was expected of them; and so we had the pressure of somewhat diffident, sometimes uncomprehending, although almost universally appreciative audiences. A second answer, beyond the known-quantity-ness of the practice and the hangover of the shows, slowly crept up on me: something to do with the group dynamic itself is affecting individual behaviour. Whenever just a few people came to workshops their first question was always, who else is coming? Where’s so-and-so? Where’s she? Where in fact is the group when the individual is here?

I was reluctant to admit it but despite the method needing only one individual to engage the practice the individuals need the group. Why? There is a possibility that this is a matter of group identity or group dynamic, but these are ongoing processes: the group is not a closed product; it is always in the process of formation, and re-formation, as members leave, return, and new people join. What is it about this process, then, that made each member want all present to move forward with the practice?

I now think it has to do primarily with an epistemological shift, which might be summarised in the notion of the embodied knowledge of the group in Minus Theatre. I had, previous to October, not thought that if a kind of thought is going on in the practice and I had not known that if a kind of knowledge (ethological) is being produced in the technique where that thought and knowledge would go to, to be called on, or recalled, in its advance, in its recollection, in practice. It seems to be clear now that where it was at, over this intervening time, and where it is, is in the bodies of the people in the group. The resistance to going ahead on a weekly basis comes from the situation where the whole group is not present at the workshops contributing their thought-knowledge which each individual embodies.

Weekly workshops through October therefore took two steps back for every step forward. This is why in getting together, assembling, on Tuesday night, 18 November, to be assembled as a formation, forming a group, a minimal cell or corps, we were re-membering – becoming avant-garde – re-membered. Disorganisation may come hereafter.

As events go, in the event, Minus Theatre’s first AGM was a raging, encouraging success. However I got to say none of the things I have outlined above. And what is worse, I did not get to congratulate every person in this group for having got it this far to do what it has done. White Flower established that we have indeed developed a theatrical form all our own, as one audience member put it, which works. Textured Passages was like a human particle accelerator, that, several audience members claimed, gave off a spiralling energy drawing them in, energising them and cleaning their brains.

The following contains repeats but it is something like what I had hoped to say: Welcome! Thank you for coming! I called this meeting because Minus Theatre is changing phase. The change of phase comes because the knowledge we have acquired along the way and the thinking going on – and a lot does go on all the time in our work – is in the group. It is not written down. It is not in my PhD research. So that to bring it to new work, to progress and go further means we need to be a group, meeting regularly, committed to extending both ourselves in our technique and understanding and the group.

Earlier Minus Theatre was about teaching and training. I think it has taken on a life of its own. This still means new people are more than welcome and that we will be doing workshops involving learning and teaching. But the group overall will have more responsibility. In other words, it is not just me who has the knowledge and knows the technique – the unique theatrical language of Minus Theatre that includes all the languages spoken and the technique that includes all the different skills each person brings – it is the group.

Part of what we do will continue to find out what special skills, what powers, each individual, each person has that makes our work together more interesting and exciting and intense.

The next project is called Boneseed

We decided to meet on Tuesday evenings, from 6pm to 9pm at AUT. Again, if you are interested in joining, adding your powers, learning more or supporting us, please contact me here.

Minus Theatre is here – and developing an independent website, the forerunner of which is here.

...
Ἀκαδήμεια
textatics
theatricality
thigein & conatus
X

Comments (0)

Permalink

Minus Theatre Research Group’s first public performance: 7 pm Friday June 13 2014 info@minustheatre.com

draft poster 2@700

...
advertisement
Ἀκαδήμεια
luz es tiempo
theatricality
theatrum philosophicum
thigein & conatus
X

Comments (0)

Permalink

field recordings 2013:09:08 17:12:46 – 2013:10:19 14:22:30

Riverhead at the end filled me with a sense of anomie. But not quite. The ugliness of it truly sub urban, and the ugliness of its continuation through developments designed in batches – designed for the market rather than for people to live in, resting on scarifications of an architectural scale and quality: the true architecture of landscape despoliation. And the sound of machines. And trees falling with a vicious crack echoing in the brown armpit of the valley, almost encircled by the eponymous river. And hee-hawing or strafing of men aggressively laughing. The neighbour.

You know, I think of that song lyric – “when I was dead / in Riverhead” – and a corner of sentiment sneaks in. Because Riverhead gave us a lifestyle – and something to hate, which as the Italians are said to say is as important as having something, or someone, to love. So that revisiting these images, there is a strength of purpose in the capture of them – real feeling – which is unlikely to be recaptured in the same way. Somehow John Campbell’s marvelous mouth shining like a solar anus fits – the crack that the light gets in, it really does. Get in.

Riverhead topographically is dominated by the rugby fields. Field recording are also felt. The grounds glowing nightly Soylent green under floodlights. Floodlights that were horrendously expensive to put in and are equally expensive to run. No expense spared. And in the mist maybe a kid is practicing his dodges, duck, dive, and a grown man is stretching his hammies.

Riverhead. Years ago submissions were being solicited – pre-Draft Unitary Plan – for the future development of the town. We all put together some ideas. Dad drew some pictures. We were not optimistic. But down at the 100 year-old hall it was a chance to meet some more locals. Talk about what others envisaged as a vision for the place. Like Auckland itself – which it in fact precedes as the initially projected site for the city – the town turns its back on its natural asset: the river. In Auckland’s case, this is of course the harbour. Was every watery space somehow associated in the colonist planner’s mind with an open sewer? Anyway, the plan we presented was to turn the town to face the river, opening up public walkways along its looping length with shops and eateries and a riverside culture.

It therefore whispers the words ‘another missed opportunity‘ when I see the suburbs tumescent breaking through the skin of the historic town: the dormitory vision of a sleeping skirt for citizens to cling in to. Waiting for their own cancers. Because there has been a slew of cancers recently in the nor’west of Auckland, centring on Kumeu, Huapai, Riverhead. The doctors at the medical centre talk about it.

Anomie. And a sadness that if not altogether sweet is not altogether painful.

CAPITAL CAPITAL CAPITAL
enomy
National Scandal
porte-parole
snap
sweeseed
tagged
textatics
X

Comments (0)

Permalink

on the art of undoing: knots, illustrated with some beautiful works by Julien Spianti

It must seem confusing. I’ve been advocating, advocating by the most simple means, the means of naming, which cannot these days be anything but an ironic take on branding, or on meme creation, undoing. But I’ve hashed undoing. I’ve hashed it by calling it by that tag, that could not these days be seen as anything but ironic and therefore transparent and therefore self-…something, and by then accusing Creative New Zealand, acting in complicity, with all sorts of complicities, major and minor, from the government to the individual artist, of undoing an institution, Downstage, a venerable institution, an institution almost fifty years old.

And now we must ask what is the difference?

Then I was listening to Bill Calahan singing about his apocalypse, making all sorts of connections, major and minor, from the government to the individual artist, and I decided it was tentacles. Or maybe strands. Or better, braids, if we think of a river. A river running over the shingle, across the plains. The Waimakariri. Did you know, briefly, when I checked the spelling, it was known as the Courtenay River? Now that I have the spelling right, it is again the Waimakariri. But it would have been spoken. Not spelled. As Lorde sings, So there.

Of course, again, I think of Courtney Place. The view out onto the twin domes of the old public toilet, the Taj Mahal, onto Kent Terrace. Or course, I think again of James K. sleeping on the draughty open slats of the bus stop bench.

What do you do if you undo but separate the strands? the streams? of which the river is braided? And even when there is no shingle basin, no separation, no plain to see them single silver snaking blending weaving down there, undoing the river would still mean to find each water in the waters, each flow in the act of blending and weaving, and separate each current, in its process.

What if the moutain withdrew its tentacles? It would draw up the waters of the Waimakariri. You would see them all, in all their colours.

I found the apron straps had formed a knot. And a knot, as Wyndham Lewis tells us, is a form of energy. The form of energy. An energetic form: the forms of martial arts are the same; they sculpt the air. Henri Gaudier-Brzeska saw this too. Sculpting expresses the energy already present in the medium.

We have a front-load washing-machine. It knots the apron straps into a ball. How do you undo a knot?

We could stop. Appreciate the knot. Try different media. Submit them to the front-load washing-machine. Knot them up. Admire the washing-machinic expression.

I have no doubt they would each be different and each one in its way would be worthy of admiration. Different passages of parallelisms, interlacings, bifurcatings, crossings, inversions, subversions, perversions. Transversalities.

But consider, just consider, we want to undo. Do we need to know, as I mistakenly suggested in a previous post, invoking Michel Foucault talking, if I recall, about Romanticism, was it? Do we need to know how a thing is made to unmake it?

No. We don’t even have to follow each complicity, from the complicities of government to those of individual artists; or, in the case of the Southern Alps and its Waimakariri, we don’t need to retrace every braid, each stream in the current to its source in melt-offs, run-offs, mountain streams, each tributary, major or minor. This would in any case be misleading: the river is braided by the rocks in its course, not from the summit of its source. Similarly, the intentions of government and individual artists do not need to be eked out for us to know there is a flow of eventuation, finding its summary energetic expression in a knot.

Destruction would already look different. I’ve considered before detaching the straps from the aprons before submitting them to the wash and washing them separately. Perhaps we use velcro. But the straps themselves need cleaning. They’d knot up worse on their own without the opening out of the aprons themselves, which in some way breaks the flows of energies and makes for serial and not singular knots.

My mother sat in the sun patiently undoing the strands of apron straps, picking at them with her fingers, and her mother’s fingers. At some point or other she gave up. Then she’d simply sit. In the sun. Have a gin. Smile more or less benignly. J., however, said just pull randomly at the knots with your fingers. Randomly. Without thinking about what goes or weaves in where. I don’t have the energy, said my mother.

Pulling randomly works. The strands loosen; the energetic form weakens; the straps separate: the knots undo. A certain tentacular emancipation is effectuated. To each apron two straps. When before the braid, the confusion.

So I think undoing is like this. It is like what Michel Foucault did with discourse. The reading, the analysis is random but inclusive. Pulling now here now there at the energetic form. You have to have the energy for this. Because it is not immediate. First one line will work its way loose: one contributor, one kind of complicity, one agent of knottiness. Name him. Name her. Then progress.

One is never enough. For anything like a knot to occur there have to be at least two.

What happens in a case like the destruction of Downstage is like a vengeance. A revenge killing. All those tentacles, some were good, some bad, sure, all lopped off, some wriggling on the carpet, escaping down the easy stairs of sentiment, Such a shame! … some long dead dead ends … some outright castrations … some cuttings-off merciful … some stupid … but taken in sum, to shut down every flow, to sever the root or plug the spring – a drought may still be a flow – but fracking the earth, killing the spring. No. There is something different in destruction than undoing.

 

...
infemmarie
τραῦμα
National Scandal
porte-parole
textatics
theatricality
X

Comments (0)

Permalink