The Sun Practice
i was looking through my notebooks for this drawing, remembering it to be this massive thing. the last notebook i picked up was the smallest one, a notebook i ignored until then because of its size. lo and behold, in the smallest of the notebooks the smallest of drawings, the stage directions for the sun practice drawn days before the 2012 premiere of the duet form.
the drawing was made in a rush and yet i remember the shapes of those curves so completely, it’s as if they locked in a memory of a feeling so familiar...
it tickles me to remember that each instalment of the practice was originally going to be named by sentences that would together write out a story of the fiction and a meta-story of the practice. each new instalment then was going to be named specifically to create the desired effect. what happened next was definite: not a single theatre we performed the practice in spelled the title correctly. the quotation marks kept shifting place, some titles would come out with new words in them. in my frustration i turned to the people, who were smart and quick in coining “the sun practice," precise and concise and in use ever since. the titles of the solo and the duet remain, however, alive and well in memory. i wonder what story would have been told, were this project encouraged.
“It sleeps behind the Sun,” he said as he wept. “Behind the Sun,” he repeated,” where everything is everything else.”
i remember spending hours in contemplation, looking for—in my bodymind’s eye—the words with which to capture the poetry, and the contradiction, and the fickle thing that is proprioception and imagination and memory and comfort and the sense of security and commitment, all experiences that make the game of a person’s coming to meaning, to the meaningful, real.
–– written for instagram, 2021-02-07