Wednesday, 17 April 2013

Skript/Lakeside/Tom Dale

Skript 170413: Whilst sitting at Lakeside Arts Centre/ Tom Dale (UK)

writing dancing

i am here, pausing, fading fading the light casts on to me. was it so much darker only one month ago…

as i type i breathe, hissssssssss. the day light on hte table i a struggling. i feel the inner twitch in the stomach the tightness in the chest… a frip, grip, tip. the words are hard to find today. being here. again. the same but different.

settle into my inner dance…. can i find her. i know she is there beneath the twitching, gripping sensation.

pause. i remind myself to be with the moment. avoid judgment of the words that appear on the page. the single hand casting over the key board. the disruption across the shoulders as i type my one handed type t y ppp ing.

the dance of light… dancing as light. the light cascading in through the roof above me. can i feel it on my head, shoulder,… as the legs drop into shadow. and in that shadowy place, just a shade darker i sense the legs droppig from my knees the angle of the knee joint the lower leg sloping away , the feet rested but not planted. skimming skimming across the base of the chair.

the hand lifts … you look very busy there…

do i…

what does  being busy look feel like? can i sense that busyness in me. 

and as i reflect on this i realise that my gripping has passed. the busyness rests in the eyes in the smoother action across the key board and i know i am body writing dancing…

the dance the rests that is resting. the being rested. this i know. this i can be with.

a deep breathing in. the chest rises the angle of the head cast down… my writing dancing bringing forth a particular way of being. a particular state. one hand, the fingers pressing. the patterns emerging and repeating.

and in this repeating what emerges…

glance, the lift in the eyes the shift rotation and lift of the head.  the seat bones planted… yes that is the word… i feel planted

‘its too hot in there…’ as he smoothly smooches across the gallery space.

the cool air cast onto my left side. my right is warm the typing the one handed typing warming my shoulder, my arm..

whilst the other side s cool,

 sliding side to side.
nice to see you
the hands paused over the key board
the bubble around me .. ah yes the busyness of me of my fingers of the eyes


the space of the table finishes the corner for me….

here we are in a space that could be anywhere but its here. and you are here sitting sitting with me.  not moving but my mind is not fixed and there are places that it wants to go to … the bodymind floating into other spaces, times.  i recall being here at the place before. but i note the red in the eye my minds eye takes me to those other space, times. and beyond.  if you went into a room and considered not coming out for a year or more, what would you find on your return to the reality of your life.  The world waits for no one and the time is now and we are of the time but still my mind wants to withdraw to have space for my thoughts to dance and my body to watch. 

and i have an image… in the room with the world apart… i am my body, my body -- outlined, sensing, , dreaming, is the world the home i carry with me… no I think not.  The World as I know it is not your home but a place of refuge for others to come to when you are asleep and not thinking.  we think too much and are governed by what we want and not what we need. 
and in that needing that touching with others can you feel sense the body the breath? sometimes and sometimes not.  I am in a cage in a body that is still, immobilized by grief and struck dumb by the worlds thirst for power and materialism  it makes me very sad and I feel not everyone is living, breathing or dancing to the real music the world has to give us. 

ahhh. as i see your words falling onto the page, the difficultly of being with self rest hard in me. i fee it in the base of the spine. yes and this makes flying so heavy for the soul and your spirit.  can you find a light place in your dancing writing .. being?? oh yes and its not so hard to let the music take my sense and sensibility from reason to the obscure and I hope to feel up lifted by the others who transform their bodies to show their self and seflessness when they are out of control and into the world of light and free being.  


the spaces opens up as i write as the other voice joins me, opening new directions..

the warmth slips spills..
the rubbling music to my dance the eyes cast towa

welcome… well will writing dancing for a while…

shall we start with something small?
that would be good
the loud sound of the announcement cuts into my thinking being..
i feel it in by back…
the fingers rest… yours hover…
hovering considering what way i wish to type. how i type starts my thinking about dancing… my typing dancing is one handed -- did you notice.. my sideways dancing… falling over to the right…. i noticed how the movement of your right hand made the rest of your body move in a swinging / swishing motion across the table….. it made the shadow present on the table start the process of making me feel like my style of dancing is rather dull and a little restricted….

he looks up. the wine smooths the throat… what is your dancing drinking ?
i think my dancing is drinking the energy of the people around me. I’m sensing their movement and feeling that press against my shoulders…. the presence of someone i know influences my view and sense of ease about writing….that sense of ease has a pause, a sutter in me. i feel it as the room shifts around the sensation is loud in my belly. it jiggy piggy wiggy belly dance

he laughs the body shifts backward in a jiggy belly elly welly dance

laughing is always something I associate with dancing…. the breath of moving seems similar to laughing for me the same sensation of release and relaxing. i sense that about my audience …. i sense that they have a desire to smile when they watch us dancing writing

i really want to stretch - start the process of relaxing and smiling

we could write the dance of your our laughter … sometime

a lovely sound score ha ha ha ha - or for me t reads tee hee.

thank you for writing dancing with me.
thank you for really dancing.

I like dance I always have I wanted to be a dancer but was told at the age of 11 in my dance class that I was too big to be a ballerina!

i like dance i always have i want to be a dancer and hope to be one when i grow up
I never knew that there other types of dance like Contemporary or Breakdancing
If I knew that I would of tried something else.
I watched Ballet Rambert and Michael Clark I loved it!
I watched a piece by pheonix dance company with my school but i’ve forgotten the name
How do you feel dancing?
“i can’t quite explain it, i haven’t got the words…” - Billy elliot

It makes me very happy and I hope to always dance and embaress you at parties;)
Haha thanks mum.
mum tum… i feel it i recall hte sensation of being htat mum… tum

welcome to the page… shall we start writing together.
id love to
you might take a moment,,, sense the dancing the is in around through you right now..
loud loud loud voice
urgency  and that urgency pulls at me i feel it puling my attention..

it makes e want to move
run tumble
freely to experience more movement
seat seats sitting … the pressure to act to move.

can we continue after? of course
lets go!

would you like to write with me…

light bending, the sound passing trough me…
yes I felt like the work
world was ending…in a club the pules ringing hte hte body - the figments of light constellations and big bangs.. bang bang.
the dance the flesh gone .. missing the those sound and ligh waves.. sweat swebetl  blinking  and folding hIe was with them he folds the world in his light. throwing out the die is cast .. casting out passing in ward they shift into nothing fall they followed each other up the stairwell, stepping, stepping upwards and outwards to a another world to to hte space we know but cannot see… and as ou sit as you are pulled by the clubbing sound together but separate at the same moment… they were free floating in the blackness like hooded, like astronauts ah yes hte covered heads the dipped necks as the draw to hte floor opperates againist those steps stepping stepping upward..incesant inside.into and we look on … are we in, on , part of hte world they create.. where I wanted to get up nad join in… walk through it.. into that folding light of beams of flashes of faces… and hte deep voice moving on …I felt young young young...


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