This weekend was a weird emotion sandwich. I stayed home from Tobin on Friday, mainly because I hadn't cried yet and was nervous about when it would strike... I didn't want to break down at work. I distracted myself with crazy cleaning, packing for Fringe, shopping, caffeinating... and the like.
Saturday and Sunday were amazing. While Merli summed it up so wonderfully, I won't recap- but check out her narrative of the weekend. It was full of art, silliness, support, AMAZING weather, and lots of love and fun. Sidenote: I am not destined to be a pool shark, but I plan on practicing, perhaps improving my game beyond default wins and unintentional trick shots... Stayed up until like 5am with Christin/Merli/Mark/Matt, and then even later with Merli (more chatting and then jumping into and on our beds). I have such a great dance company/family, this has grown into something beyond dancers and choreographers and I am lucky.
My mom/Jenn/Christos came to the show on Sunday. I knew I was inevitably going to break down when I saw them, as I hadn't seen any of my family members since I got the news, so I made them come in early. Weirdly I didn't totally lose it until they left to go get dinner, and I found myself grieving inside a temple. Go figure. Good thing for the dark shades, even though I looked like a jerk walking around with them on. Alan wouldn't have liked my outward display of emotion.... Just like he didn't like, oh, everything?
I showed my new piece twice this weekend, of course with Merli's fun new piece and other greatest-hits too, and it was received as I hoped it would be. While our performance spaces were nutty and backwards and disorganized, the show went well on both nights. The experience made me even more excited to show it in November (4-5, 8 pm, green st studios) in a dark and deep theatre space. I'm nervous for Mobius on Oct 21, as I just found out its a very skinny and longish space. We'll see...
While I want to get down to discussing my new work in a blog post, I don't have the time to do it justice. Keep your eyes peeled. What I will say now, is that it depends so majorly on the dancers (what is emotionally portrayed or restrained, and their connections) and their performance quality made some serious magic happen on Sunday night. I remember sitting in the dark with my silly clamp light in my lap, watching and lighting, tears flowing down my face, and trying both suavely and frantically to wipe them away as the dancers got close to the downstage region, so they wouldn't see me awkwardly in the darkness.
I absolutely love being a creator, wouldn't ever ever want it any other way. I am very grateful that I was able to take a big risk, that I have a great partner, and that there are so many supporters that are making our org flourish.
So now we are in a new week...
Monday I crashed, cried, enjoyed my puppy and the weather, and regained my composure.
Yesterday I went to work, and had one of the first successes I've had in the arts at Tobin. The kids have been a hard sell on performing mediums, but I had a good sized group of girls trust me enough to do some theatre, and they had a great time. At the end of the day I got word of some interest in dance...
This week is grant-mania. Merli and I have 5 grants due this week, and a CRAZY project in mind. Wish us luck... We also have a bunch due over November and December. While we only have a year behind our belts, it was such a solid year. 2 self-produced performances, a statewide tour, invitations to perform in multiple fundraisers and festivals, a Boston Center for the Arts performance, invite to be guest lecturers at a MHC arts talk, a gala, a community outreach project... now a Mobius performance next week. We have no intention on losing momentum!
So that's life.... and non-life.
Showing posts with label death. Show all posts
Showing posts with label death. Show all posts
Wednesday, October 12, 2011
Friday, October 7, 2011
I'm sad, happy, numb, relieved, more sad, more numb.
We were running our show to prep for Seacoast Fringe this weekend, and I finally began to love my new piece. I had tears in my eyes at a moment or two, because it was finally becoming perfect, powerful, expressing just what I wanted it to say.
After packing up all of our belongings, chatting with dancers, getting a park bench into a station wagon etc, I read a text from my mom:
'Grampa is at peace, Auntie just called me. They just called her that he just passed away. I don't want to talk so excuse the texting. React with love and relief for him that he is out of the nightmare he was in in his broken body. Lisa told him we all love him and named us all to him and said he will be in our hearts forever.'
I passed his hospice/home on the way to rehearsal, passing through Needham, and had just said a few nice words and by usual 'hello' as I passed by without enough time to stop. I knew from my mom yesterday night that he had finally committed to dying, telling the nurses to freeze all of his Ensures, raising a fist to the Armenian national anthem, and then saying to family members that he was going to try to die now. Always a philosophical joker, this is all taken with a grain of salt.
Fast-forward to 10:59pm. I got that text from my mom and just have been a bit numb since. I've spent so long (7 months, really) preparing for this very moment, and now I'm just so unsure of how to react.
For some time I've thought this piece I am creating was linked to his death. I was wondering whether it would be linked with our October performance, or the November showing of the piece, and as I sit here I realize it is perfect. The new piece has found its finality, though yet to be performed, I've told the story correctly, and now he can go and find peace. Biologically/scientifically, who really knows if there is a link or a convenient overlap, but I like to believe in the power of my art sometimes.
I feel guilty that I am sad and a bit angry at his death. I've had so much wonderful time to visit and talk and prepare for death, but I feel so robbed and unsure. I feel guilty that I haven't visited in over a week, I am sad that I left him alone in the drab room with the dated floral window treatments and slow-moving nurses. Death's a real pain in the ass.
Looking forward to spending time performing this piece, and taking Luminarium to Portsmouth, not everyone has something they love so much to occupy a whole weekend and make them focus.
Sad, sad, sad, more sad. The end.
(because now I don't want to write anymore...)
We were running our show to prep for Seacoast Fringe this weekend, and I finally began to love my new piece. I had tears in my eyes at a moment or two, because it was finally becoming perfect, powerful, expressing just what I wanted it to say.
After packing up all of our belongings, chatting with dancers, getting a park bench into a station wagon etc, I read a text from my mom:
'Grampa is at peace, Auntie just called me. They just called her that he just passed away. I don't want to talk so excuse the texting. React with love and relief for him that he is out of the nightmare he was in in his broken body. Lisa told him we all love him and named us all to him and said he will be in our hearts forever.'
I passed his hospice/home on the way to rehearsal, passing through Needham, and had just said a few nice words and by usual 'hello' as I passed by without enough time to stop. I knew from my mom yesterday night that he had finally committed to dying, telling the nurses to freeze all of his Ensures, raising a fist to the Armenian national anthem, and then saying to family members that he was going to try to die now. Always a philosophical joker, this is all taken with a grain of salt.
Fast-forward to 10:59pm. I got that text from my mom and just have been a bit numb since. I've spent so long (7 months, really) preparing for this very moment, and now I'm just so unsure of how to react.
For some time I've thought this piece I am creating was linked to his death. I was wondering whether it would be linked with our October performance, or the November showing of the piece, and as I sit here I realize it is perfect. The new piece has found its finality, though yet to be performed, I've told the story correctly, and now he can go and find peace. Biologically/scientifically, who really knows if there is a link or a convenient overlap, but I like to believe in the power of my art sometimes.
I feel guilty that I am sad and a bit angry at his death. I've had so much wonderful time to visit and talk and prepare for death, but I feel so robbed and unsure. I feel guilty that I haven't visited in over a week, I am sad that I left him alone in the drab room with the dated floral window treatments and slow-moving nurses. Death's a real pain in the ass.
Looking forward to spending time performing this piece, and taking Luminarium to Portsmouth, not everyone has something they love so much to occupy a whole weekend and make them focus.
Sad, sad, sad, more sad. The end.
(because now I don't want to write anymore...)
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