How are you choreographed?
How can I approach sensing the space without putting it in a certain time or shape.
The body is easily reduced.
Outside, trying to listen three-dimensionally I remember that I understand the sounds as a composition.
Inside the roughness of the floor under my feet is an opener to a world of sensing and creating sense. The meaning arises from the experience. I cannot move without reflecting on how I am choreographed, how the space guides me and how memory at the same time awaken a certain choreography. I am longing to set myself loose from judging movement and phases. I am very sensitive to my self-judgement and I keep coming back to how stupid society can make the body, the image of the body and how easy it is to be ironic instead of being. The aestethtics of being is complicated to enter without identifying it and feeling the fear. I try to move beyond fear and from addressing and identifying movement to experiencing the movement in itself.
I forgot that I could have been 100 or 4, but subconsciously I sometimes enter being four and sometimes I have the same compassion for myself inside my sensing body as I can have for an old person; a body that is full of experience. I notice when my body directly can approach its surroundings and move through space as a known landscape.
I can differ from when I identify the space as I remember to have seen it and when I remember it first – when I am there.
The architecture serves my body. The curve serves differently than the right angle wall, underneath my feet there is rough stones, bamboo mats, concrete.
I remember that when I met a pole there was something familiar, and then our previous talking of Miley Cirus sexual pole dancing and licking made my approach of the pole suddenly unfamiliar and bizarre. When the instructions some time later reminded me of poles as trees I could again approach and let myself be touched by the pole without being culturally embarrassed by my behaviour.
The movement from the body differs from when ‘I’ do ; when I feel they are performed and when they are playfully alive and awake responds to ”each passing moment”, responding to the situation the environment serves me. When my body recognises a choreographic situation I am caught by the comtemporary discource of reducing and being ironic to the sensing body. The protest against the aesthetics of release and improvisational work in the body sometimes force on the body that it shouldn’t sense.
Is there a time for taking the body back again, and not needing to be responsible of the aesthetics it is producing. The image doesn´t give an imaginary experience. This text is already reducing the capacity of the body. There is still a struggle for language, but I will use every language I have available to understand and to be understood.
To allow rest.
To see with the eyes closed, how the light changes.
To see with my eyes open the meaning of using colours and contrast.
To be silent to Helen Keller.
To use silence without being afraid of making a statement through sounds.
To name something ‘Susan’ and then later The Museum of Unconditional Surrender; to remember that it is a subtitle of one of my favorite books which I never finish. And which I read in different cities, always starting from the beginning. To recognise that I am no longer writing to myself but to someone else. To you. To feel a bit embarrassed of the unwilling poetic, and therefor maybe cliché in the past sentence.
To resist making fool of the body
To feel that an on-going lifelong theme/ work/ project is arising. The choreographed body as not different from the architectural body and not different from the life choreographed. How does/did life choreograph you? How to investigate this with a deep compassion, an ease and not being afraid of sensing my whole body as once? Not being afraid of making form and appear foolish. Not being afraid of aesthetics that doesn’t feel cool. Not being afraid of identifying a movement or a response as authentic within its frame, situation and circumstance. Saying farewell to non-sensing, saying farewell to irony, saying farewell to coolness, welcoming unconditional surrender.