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A post about theatre, writing and the Fringe, but mostly about theatre

August 24, 2018

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FloSTL’s “Secrets of the Bower House”

August 13, 2019

 

 

Several parts of my body are oozing from mosquito bites. I can’t stop scratching them. I have no

impulse control. I also have no bug spray. I’m an artist. My upper body muscles stay toned. Last

year I climbed poles for money. In the winter I was a baker. This summer I am mainly carrying

large pieces of wood and using power tools. I like hard work. I’m an artist. I’ve moved at least 11

times since I got to St. Louis eight years ago, not counting the months at a time I’ve spent on

the road. I believe in being able to travel, usually on the cheap, always above my means. I am

both transient and stable. I like it that way. I also hate it that way. I am a rollercoaster of

emotions. I am grounded and wise. I put my foot in my mouth before I even open it sometimes,

which is why I’m such a good listener. I get carried away by light and movement, shiny things,

daydreams, and sound, which is why I have no idea what you were talking about. I like coffee

but I can’t really drink it. Wildflowers and heavy rainstorms fill me right up when I can just sit and

watch them. I enjoy the watching of life. And the doing, and the being.

 

Everything that I experience is part of my creative process. I can draw lines of separation, sure,

but they’re really immaterial. For me, creating is about exploring what makes me feel. Right now

I’m excited about weaving. I’m doing construction on a house that will become a venue for a

second version of our Fringe piece, later this year in September. I’m missing my partner, whose

work is 2000 miles away from mine. So how does the thrill of textiles in my hands meet with the

exhaustion of changing my own landscape? How do I wrap the energy of loneliness into the joy

I feel when interacting in performance?

 

Basically what I’m saying here is that the play’s the thing. Theater, performance, art, it’s a

reflection of our conscience, our soul, our being, whatever. It reveals things to us about

ourselves. It holds up a mirror and says, “hello me, it’s me...” And that’s what making art feels

like to me. When I’m doing it right, I feel like a mirror building a mirror. Some may call it infinite

regression, but to me it’s what I offer. My interpretation of what I experience- including physical

sensations, thoughts, interactions, things I learn about, shapes and colors I see- crafted into

new experience that I share with others, who will craft it into their own interpretation.

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