New York, July 29th and August 5th 2013
Theaterlab
Performed by Catalina Lavalle, Michaela Lind and Jennifer Restak
This iteration of Traces
is built upon many of the same essential questions we explored in our
performance in March: the differences
between our public and our private selves, the ways in which technology both
connects and alienates us, and how an original creative impulse, repeated time
and again in rehearsal becomes symbolic of that moment of creative discovery. And in our rehearsals together these past
few weeks, we asked: from where does an
impulse originate, internally, or outside of ourselves? What is the difference between an impulse and
a reflex? And how may an impulse lead us
into the creation of a story?
In
tonight’s performance we address these questions in the context of a storyline,
a storyline which has grown, about a woman whom we originally called “female
subject”: recently separated from her partner, female subject is a woman who is
torn from the present moment by memory.
To her, memory has a gravitational pull. Gravity, breath and space are
some of the organizing forces around which this piece has developed. The video which
now starts the show, of lithium released in outer space, represents the
cynosure of many of our ideas: a natural
element, it is used to treat bipolar disorder, an illness some of our loved
ones have struggled with and the one this woman’s partner is attempting to
manage. Released from rockets, lithium serves as a catalyst for seeing,
illuminating phenomenon in outer space not observable by the naked eye. In the
video itself, traces of lithium flash brightly and hauntingly across the atmosphere,
inspiring many of our movements. While
one of us more consistently embodies the role of “female subject” in this
performance, we are,
together, traces of many forms of physical phenomena, illustrating the traces of this girl’s
memory in a visceral, poetic form.
"all you touch and all you see,
are all your life will ever be."
-Pink Floyd, Dark Side of the Moon
Go outside of you.
Look at yourself walking down the street.
Make yourself tumble on a stone and fall.
Watch it.
Watch other people looking.
Observe
carefully how you fall. How long it takes and in what rhythm you fall. Observe as seeing a slow-motion film.”
Yoko
Ono, “Falling Piece”
And Thank You!
And Thank You!
Our
thank-you’s are many, as we have found ourselves supported at every turn by
amazing friends old and new: Lisa Markuson, our subsidiary co-producer, thank
you for pulling together our sneak preview and silent auction with dash and
style and for your continued artistic and publicity support; to Lani Hoàng
for ascending a
steep learning curve and bravely womaning our light board, Michael Schreiber,
thanks for coming along just in time to run video and sound and lend further
meaning to this show inspired by memories, and to Cameron Gagne for stepping into his shoes tonight; to
Orietta Crispino of Theaterlab for enabling us to share our work in her space;
to John J. Hanlon for providing the voice and the character of female subject’s
estranged male partner; thank you to all of our silent auction donors: Gobsmacked! Productions, LLC, The Quality
Mending Co., Get Up and Ride!, Rodney Ramos, Conor Klein, Quincy Ellis and
Lauren Visceglia. To Steve Kramer for
hosting our post-preview party, Lou Gordon for circulating our preview
announcement to the members of BALCONY, and to our many friends in DC who
have supported us--some of whom are here tonight: Micah Greenberg, Joseph A. Mills, III, and
Mundy Spears. To Amanda Alef, for her limitless contribution to the creation of
the show in DC. And to Montgomery Harkness, for sharing his toys.