Wednesday, 15 May 2013

Skript 120413: After watching and performing a performance of Opus 49, Miguel Pereira (Portugal)

I sit at my desk. The clock ticks. I recall a darkened theatre. I am surrounded by people. A figure appears with a microphone.
It’s me, in the dark trying to perceive the void. the emptiness...yes
Ah yes, he walks, moves slowly, gingerly perhaps. what, sound...
yes sound, there’s no silence!
even if i’m looking for nothing!

I imagine looking for nothing, the feel, smell, sense of it...nothing eludes, me, here now as I sit at my desk, the image of your looking with microphone in hand pulls me into something
yes, the microphone is my pen, a extension of my body, exactly as writing here with my fingers in this  moment. So writing dancing here without microphone but with fingers and keyboards, are we still perceiving the void, leaning into the emptiness?
thoughts, thoughts and thoughts...they’re not concrete but it’s with them that we build realities, is with them that we move our bodies, in space and in time.Yes...yes...yes...she she sits up straighter in her chair feeling into the screen as his presence through is dancing fingers becomes more clear

my fingers are searching for the right moment, the subtle movement as the microphone is searching for something in to the void space, the theatre space where i should dance but where i feel empty. Should we dance? She dances, I watch her stand and she dances, knees bending, arms pumping above her head to the loud music. Was there loud music? Did she dance? I feel
maybe! in her head there’s loud music even if she’s stand, quiet, but there’s something always moving, the heart pumping??? giving the impression of something alive at least. The shapes and sound of no sound, the shape of no dancing but dancing. The darkness and void, yet the playfulness of that. The flap, flapping of your belt, the crashing of your body or the chairs, those lovely, cheap, Ikea chairs.

the body is in contact with something, with it’s own space against other spaces and this produces the sound, like the wind exists when it goes against a space, a wall, a window, our own bodies, sometimes it’s cheap spaces, sometimes heavy and hard spaces.
And sometimes the space gives rise to a movement, a moving floor, a floor moving, undulating, a darkness that does not feel like the wind. Who or what is here?
movement, sound, body, space, existing always since we’re alive and it can be a virtual space as the space where we are right now. here and now.

i’m trying to build something with my fingers against the keyboard, thinking in a language that’s not my own language but trying to find the right movement for a strange space. Yes, and a stranger...can we build something together...your language and mine...both fingers...both keyboards...both and more...
we build something together and it’s in the intersection between your knowledge and mine about english and between your knowledge and mine of Opus 49. I watch.
i watch and i do, simultaneously, as i think and i act at the same time, i’m an observer and i’m a actor as in Opus 49, searching for this “in between”. I see you leave, hear you leave the stage, hear you leaving, walking, or imagining you walking. Imagine all that you are doing when I cannot see you now or on stage. Do you smoke? Do you listen? Do you want to leave the stage, want to
dance, or should be dancing, or letting me dance you in my imagination.

yes, imagination, it’s the word, dancing, smoking, writing, leaving, existing by the imagination. sometimes we just need that, perceiving the invisible existence! existing invisibly???? as i wanted to do in my solo. Say more? 

disappearing...just the trace of my presence, just my heart pumping, could you listen my heart pumping?I hear footsteps, inhalation, exhalation, heavy breathing with more steps, silence, more silence...if i fall into that silence now as memory I hear your heart, feel your heart but then...then there was more  outer material elements of you rather than inner essence or materia. The dance of the heart...

confronting my inner world with the outside world, that’s it, with heart dancing dancing dancing...till the moment that it will stop. And darkness falls, we fall into the void...into the nothing...or maybe that is when falling cannot fall...when the void is void, nothing is nothing...where falling, walking, smoking, breathing, waiting, listening....stop. turn the microphone off. stop capturing, given up, abandoned, going away...but still existing.


  1. I seriously love your writing style, its old but very catchy, the reader goes right where you want him or her, this is really good keep writing!

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