The two yous

My piece for movement, Two Yous was accepted by the NACHMO 2019 (NAtional CHoreography MOnth) semi finals. This was an experimental piece for sitar, looper, spoken word, and audience participation to explore themes of autonomy and the distinction between isolation and solitude. The directions for audience participation, projected on the back wall, read as follows:

Choose a point on the stage and, at your own impetus, move to that point and then return to your seat. 

This may be done as many times as you like. 

You may choose as direct or indirect a route to your chosen spot as you wish.

How you move is up to you except that while doing so you must be cognizant of two distinctly different tempos. During your movement, listen to the music, and when you perceive a shift, alternate between these two tempos. 

You may alternate tempos as many times as you deem necessary, but stick to two distinct speeds.

Near the end of the piece a spoken word section will begin. Once this has begun do not again move onto the stage. If you are in mid movement at the point continue in the tempo you are in and return to your seat as you would naturally. 

Text:

What if the real you was born too small. And for protection lived in a bedroom that was left in the desk drawer at home.

And the you that everyone knows is a fabricated copy, only in real world size.

And no one knows the real you because, so far, you have not met anyone who was also born too small.

Big you in the world: acting, doing, learning communication, learning tasks. Growing up.

Small you in the desk: Giving life, reflecting, keeping things tidy. Understanding limitations.

What would happen next?

Would the two yous grow old together?

When big you was ready to leave the time of childhood would small you be remembered?

Or left in the desk?

Is it possible that the two yous might one day forgot of each others existence entirely?

A fabrication becomes an original. The whole world exists inside of a tiny bedroom.

How could this be?

Do we really have the power to lose the seeds of our birth?

Text performance by Emily Adams

Paradise laboratory at crs

Paradise Laboratory, an ongoing concert series intended to be a “playground for sonic and visual experimentation”, is a brainchild of Korean Piri and Sanghwang master, Gamin Kang and held regularly at CRS (The Center for Remembering and Sharing) in New York City. For our collaboration in this series we used free improvisation, art film, and spoken word to explore emotional landscapes, solitude, and inheritance as seen through the life cycles of octopuses.

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