Tuesday, 5 March 2013


Skript 050313: While watching an online version of the live performance Musical by Collette Sadler (UK)

gold curtain, remembering. memories. i have been here, been with this... when? the gaps sit with me...  holes in my rememberings. musical, schmussscical...tip tap tip tap. glam bam tip tap tip tip tip tap.

watching...waiting for something to...write...feel...oh what a...

…beautiful morning, day.Yes, isn’t it :)

the gold fabric takes me back. I am in nevtex textiles in the backend of the lace market. buying fabrics. shimmering net, slinky satins... oh my oh my... and it is another world, time, place.

sounding sounds that connect and disconnect...order and clarity cut with irony and the childhood play -- a toystory saga.. .the clarity of the cut across the tables, patterns, bodies lining up, only to form and reform. i like patterns. I feel the pleasure of them and breathe. a breath that always me to ease, be with, relax into the shifting motions before me.

eeek eeek, tweeeet, honk honk honk... the sounds of the playroom reformed
rhythm, tap, tap, tap...stepping in and out of time I feel my heart beat, skip a beat, skipping to the beep, ping, squeak...over and over...around and around...behind and in front of the gold curtain, one then another, then more, then less...my heart races...on and on it goes, a sameness, a certainty that there will be no beautiful morning or day...that there will be no meaning...and do we try to find it here? No, wait, feel, breathe, my dance, my dancing writing...

they start to shift in intersecting circles ... i am interested that i am am drawn to these forms... formal, simple, clean... again i can rest. in and out of these forms and me imagining them before they emerge.... i walk with them. shifting one foot in front of the other in gorgeous curves around the space, that black studio space.. with that gold, very gold curtain calling in the background.

I  try to leave my foot behind, try to make my belly sound with a squeak. nothing. so i notice my foot, my feet, under the table here now, my feet that might step with them, tap step, … as you write i am drawn to my own soundings... the tip tap of the keyboard, the sounds of the wicker seat - its slight creak below me. And in the other room - the tv is on.. i try to let that sound be just that sound … patterns with(out) reference. ey, ey, ey, sounds without meaning, words without context, uh, uh, uh...then counterpoint...layering, pattern complexified...it plays as I write, she dances as i write, i dance as she writes...laughter, i hear you laugh...
a sad laughter, of lost illusion, of lost memory..

...remain with what is...what emerges...the sense of frustration, alienation...blended with a clarity of order and precision...there it is

what remains...circles, soundings, shifting furniture... toys replayed, tap shoes and hats, things...remain...things in space, dancers moving things in space...sounding in space locates them - like echolocation.  echolocation!! i like that. her leg - swosh.. 

body tipped forward leg high. other kegs kicked like the can can girl gone wrong (but right)... kegs? like a beer keg...yes, a can or keg...rolling on the ground, a leg emerges from nowhere, a long leg kicks out, a series of complex articulations of the hands and still the relentless sounding...circling...

the loud speakers -- what are they called - hailers? yes, loud hailers..hailing what? taxi’s? audiences? dancers? space? hailing the echolocator...evoking the space, she whistles, hey driver take me to the gold curtain ..recording of the dancers/toys sounds remaining for us... echolocating the bodies that have now gone. the space clear, and we feel the resonance of the bodies in the speakers continuing their dance as an abstracted pattern of squeaks, beeps, honks... the simplicity of them, the shifts of tone as the speaker is opened and closed...

Authored by Jane Bacon and Vida Midgelow

Link to Musical: https://vimeo.com/20695609

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