My Event

curtain raises on set with a tree stump with an ax in it. Group of 5 children carrying raw meat walk onto stage. Each with with a different kind of meat, beef, lamb, pork, bison, and venison. Each child then proceeds to take up the ax and one by one chop their meat to smithereens while singing old macdonald had a farm.

From Shane for Nov. 19

Shane Hanlon

For Nov. 19 Workshop

Fallacy/Our City 2008 A.D.

1.

“Father, forgive them for they know not what they do”

Will sat on the bus busy, no time for considering the diversity of bird chirps. From a hard seat reserved for the handicapped, books on lap, he lifted his chin from his chest. Than wondered how his face looked, and if its bone structure was causing it to cast any dark shadows on itself. This thought sat as he made a line in his head, ‘I love this city, but its time’s like this I wish I had it to myself.’ An impossible thought.

“Woman, behold your son”

Will noticed the Chinese girl sitting across the aisle, cross-legged, listening to music. He assumed the music was empty and thought she was thinking nothing. After a short inspection, leaned back, and didn’t let her nothingness bother him with the reasoning, ‘this oriental bird that has appeared will soon dissolve into her destined migration. Content little swallow.’ This lean back had been with the desire that the shadows would darken on his face, while staring directly at the young women, wanting her to recognize gloom. She averted all attempts to hold her in his glance.

“I Thirst”

Will looked to his exit. The doors were loose and slightly wobbling. The bottom of the door had become separated from the steps which brought passengers down from the bus. It seemed so un-miraculous to see the street moving by, simply cement passing at a pace faster than it does while walking. The machine seemed just a container with wheels, as the road was just rocks, melted and binded; empty. While this anger bubbled inside, he threw-up slightly in his mouth and automatically gathered saliva to dilute the acid. Than, looked fiercely at the young woman, and decided to get off a stop early; also, for the first time ever to discharge his vomit spittle onto the black rubber flooring right before leaving. As Will rose from the bench in anticipation, his cell-phone which he had placed on his lap, fell and hit the floor. The girl quickly moved to pick-it-up and her CD-Player dropped to hit the floor with a hard crash which broke the cover off. Nevertheless, she reached for the phone first. While beginning to lean and take it from her, he noticed the now exposed CD from her broken player was one of the artist Bjork’s, a much loved musician of his. This brought rage and it showed when their eyes met. In an attempt to deny the phone was his, the vomit-spit fell from his mouth. The bus doors opened as the girl on her knees moved to hand it to him while a thick stream of saliva hung from his chin. Without accepting her offering, he turned instantly and jumped down from the public bus to the dark concrete.

“My God! My God! Why have you forsaken me!”

2. (This morning, three days later.)

“This day you will be with me in paradise”

Will stood, unable to move on the filled bus as it rolled slowly through traffic, blank-minded and incapable of directing a specific thought. He was facing towards a window, not by choice, as they all moved down a main road. The sidewalks flowed with people and the stores seemed endless, the words, ‘true metropolis’ shot through his mind. Unable to focus on a single store, they seemed to hold anything and everything. The throngs streamed down the boulevard; each face seemed unique and irreplaceable to the young man, all wrapped in coats just as he was. Watching this famous city made by its inhabitants his head felt warm and clear. He imagined each person carrying a brick and dropping it at the entrance of the high buildings.

“Father into your hands I commend my spirit”

While Will smiled at this vision, he felt a kick to his shin. On looking down, he met a pair of shiny, black, slanted eyes belonging to a girl who had been progressively leaned heavier onto during the admiration. He Moved back without removing the smile or glance from her face, although she had immediately broken eye contact. She appeared very young, with dark pony tails that had red highlights, her white skin soft-looking, and his smile reached wider at the sight of her small nose and ears. Amidst these still developing observations, and that still stretching smile, she was pulling her hand from her purse and a cell-phone came out along with her hand, but not in it. Her phone crashed to the floor and the battery separated from the rest. Not realizing she was picking it up he genuflected onto knees reaching to retrieve it for her. Focused on the task, he was unaware they were both placing the phone together simultaneously. She snatched the two pieces away from his palms, stood up, and quickly squeezed through the crowd out of his sight. He rose; grinning and unaware of his neighbor’s stares. The doors opened to the discovery that his stop had been passed twenty blocks prior. Instinctively jerking in the direction of the door, he stopped suddenly at sight of the passengers on the bus. Will stood transfixed, he gazed at each face one-by-one without a specific thought, smiling, and continued forward on the public city bus far beyond his stop.

“It is finished”

Experiment for this week

After our discussion of Artaud’s Theatre of Cruelty, I thought we might try something a little gentler. The event score is something invented by a group of artists in the 60s and 70s who called themselves Fluxus. It is essentially a very miniature play, which may or may not be performed. Some examples are below. Try writing a few of your own and post them this week.

From Wikipedia: “Event scores, such as George Brecht's "Drip Music", are essentially performance art scripts that are usually only a few lines long and consist of descriptions of actions to be performed rather than dialogue. […] Fluxus performances were usually brief and simple. The Event performances sought to elevate the banal, to be mindful of the mundane, and to frustrate the high culture of academic and market-driven music and art.”

Supper
The curtain is raised. A large table set with food, drink, flowers, candles is displayed on stage. 10 well-dressed performers carrying instruments enter, bow, and seat themselves behind the table. They lay down their instruments. 2 waiters begin to serve food and wine. Performers begin to eat, drink, and talk. After a few minutes, the audience can also be offered food and drink. (Emmett Williams, 1965)

Sanitas No. 2
Auditorium or theatre should be dark. Performers throw small objects, coins, toys, etc., into the audience and then try to find these objects using flashlights. (Tomas Schmit)

Theft
A theft is announced and the audience is searched. (Ben Vautier, 1961)

Audience Piece No. 10
An announcer hidden from view of the audience observes all who enter the theatre with binoculars and describes each in detail over a public address system. (Ben Vautier, 1965)

Child Art Piece
The performer is a single child, two or three years old. One or both parents may be present to help him with a pail of water, a banana, etc. When the child leaves the stage, the performance is over. (Alison Knowles, 1962)

Drip Music
For single or multiple performance. A source of dripping water and an empty vessel are arranged so that the water falls into the vessel. (George Brecht, 1959)

More examples can be found here.

Patricia: Workshop for 11/19

Always Praying for a resolution
Always Aiming for forever
Always Trying to succeed
Always Requiring love
Always Insisting on happiness
Always Crying for opportunities
Always Intertwined within herself
Always Accepting what cannot be changed

Sometimes Lies to herself
Sometimes Undermindes others
Sometimes Prefers solitude
Sometimes Enjoys everything

Never Wasting a moment
Never Understanding her life

Broken Glass: Workshop for 11/19

Broken Glass. That was all she could think about.

I draw on my notebook often
They are very random pictures;
From a flower to a glistening eye
Not artist worthy though
Have I let it discourage me?
Yes, because I care too much about what others think
I wish I could be more carefree
I wish more people understood me.

My best friend is the sweetest person ever
All the men admire her
I try to stand out, and I cannot
No one glances my way
Have I let it discourage me?
Yes, because I care too much about what others think
I wish I could be more carefree
I wish more people understood me.

There was one man who seemed like everything
Intelligent and attractive
Couldn’t stop thinking about him
Didn’t even want my friendship
Have I let it discourage me?
Yes, because I care too much about what others think
I wish I could be more carefree
I wish more people understood me.

There is a drive within me
Excellent GPA and a honors student
Want to make my parents proud
Always worrying about it
Have I let it discourage me?
Yes, because I care too much about what others think
I wish I could be more carefree
I wish more people understood me.

There is something to be said about telling the truth
It is hard, but the aftermath is so refreshing
You decide to take a risk. Sometimes it works or does not.
I took a risk, and as usual, I was let down
Have I let it discourage me?
Yes, because I care too much about what others think
I wish I could be more carefree
I wish more people understood me.

Glass breaks. Blood. Tears. Why didn’t they understand her?!?!

Reading for Nov. 17

I've just posted, to the right, the reading by Bertolt Brecht for Monday: it's his play "Mother Courage and her Children." However, the file is a bit messed up and I don't have the time to fix it right now. It's okay, though, because I only want you to read the first scene (which means the first seven pages of the pdf, or up to page 33 in the pagination of the book). The text by Antonin Artaud is also there. The Artaud is theory, and although the Brecht text is a play, we'll be talking about it in rather theoretical terms: essentially, we'll be talking about whether a play should value realism or something else. When you watch a play, do you expect to see a portrayal of real people experiencing real emotions in real situations, or do you expect to see a group of actors and entertainers doing interesting things and perhaps conveying a message? Which do you think Brecht is trying to create?

No "I" In The Red Lady

I ended up remaking this from my first verison.
___

Had the Red Lady known what would occur, she'd never stop foot through the Wolf's realm. The day started slowly; the Red Lady had wanted to see her Grandma. She prepared snacks and was very content as she worked. After that, she put on her red cape and headed out the door, happy.

She had not known though that the mean Wolf had gone to see Grandma before her. He was always hungry. He had observed her and knew she would make a great meal. When a wolf starves, not one word stops the beast. He knocked on Grandma's door. "Who lurks at my door?, called Grandma. "The Wolf, Madame. The Red Lady sent me to tell you a message", he answered. "So long an eon!” yelled Grandma. "Come through the door, my poor one! Let me get you..." As soon as Grandma had turned around, the Wolf grabbed her by the throat and swallowed her whole. "She has to learn to not be so open to strangers", muttered the Wolf.

The Red Lady had met Wolf before. She would walk by and he would always howl at her. She knew that he had a penchant for large meals, but the thought was not a bother. There were more tasty people than her. Grandma and her had spoken about the Wolf, but never saw the creature as a threat. However, she felt puzzled when she passed by the Wolf's house (near Grandma's) and had not see the beast. "That seems very odd", the Red Lady thought.

She knocked on Grandma's door, now very alarmed. "Grandma?" "Come through the door, dear" The Wolf knew the Red Lady was ajar. He was very hungry, and even though the Red Lady wasn't much of a meal, he was hungry for a second cycle. "Grandma, you look bloated! You also are very rugged" One always assumes Grandma wouldn’t age so badly!" "Oh sweetheart, you cause me tears!" The Wolf grabbed the Red Lady and prepared to eat her. "Oh my!” yelled the Red Lady!

As the Wolf was ready to pounce, he suddenly began to feel strange. "My stomach!" Suddenly, Grandma, leaped out of the Wolf's mouth. "You never thought Grandma would make you feel awful!" The Wolf lay on the floor, no longer hungry but very sad.

"Oh Grandma", the Red Lady answered, "From now on you shall be known as the Wolf attacker!"