weak in re-vieux

mes amis

in an attempt to flight le writer’s bloc, i return to you, dear readers, as i stave off the winter blues and other ailments.

allora.

it’s been a busy week–and not for the weak!–indeed.

dance pants at the roulette

on tuesday i hoofed over to a dance performance at roulette near atlantic/pacific in brooklyn where a 5-day festival was underway. i had never heard of roulette, what is this place! there were three pieces on the bill, but i shall only speak of the first, entitled fur & tulle.

the audience was forced to gather in a corner of the lovely olden theatre. i must confess that i have a soft spot for certain annoying requests of the audience like this. we piled in. i do love the dance crowd, they wear more black and stoic expressions than even theatre folk!

more please!

more please!

the piece began. one dancer, the essential rebecca warner, was in a kind of nouveau bear outfit and she did some wiggle and herk jerk moves with great precision. (i have followed warner’s moves since my youth, a longtime fan.) meanwhile, a woman wrapped in nothing but pale pink tulle tooled about dancing in a slightly less herk jerk fashion as a nude woman in a crouching position slithered slowly across the floor. i couldn’t place the music but it had a palatable 70s vibe, to my untrained ear at least, and i feel certain it was some sample (or original) of some better known tune. ah… mimesis!

bear-dance-smile

toward the the end of fur & tulle a translucent tarp fell from the balcony above so that it separated audience from stage,  boxing us in even further. what a magic moment seeing those dance volunteers march onstage and unclip the tarp. one well heeled woman in the front row seemed alarmed and kept pushing the tarp out of her lap! once the tarp fell, the choreographer (i think?) stacy grossfield (also the nude slithering dancer?) popped up and started to do some dance moves as the bear and the pink tulle rolled around. seeing these murky movements in the lens of the translucent tarp, i felt like i was in a womb.

i’m reminded of a line from the seagull, “i understood nothing” .. but i didn’t want it to end either. and the set was pretty nice.

stop hitting me

the following evening i alighted to lincoln center after an arduous day of text messaging. a dear old poetical pal of mine was my companion for the evening and i was looking forward to introducing him to the work of austin’s rude mechanicals, a favorite troupe of mine. i’d seen an in-development showing of stop hitting yourself last april while i was in austin, my spirit city. i was anxious to see what had evolved.

more please!

can’t talk, i’m performing!

the show began promisingly with some toe tapping moves.. in tap shoes no less!  the themes about capitalism were once again present with the actors offering audience members $20 bills. the story, about a competition for the aging queen, plodded along. there was more finger wagging about capitalism and the environment. more dollar bills were auctioned off. (it was great when the likes of laura von hottie got to passionately kiss one of the actors!) later another audience member undressed for a dollar and an older gentleman called out “you’re worth more than that!” it was kind of amazing. and yet.

i love being told i am a bad capitalist, yes. punish me! brandish me! reprimand me! but please do so with more than just sophomoric stunts and jibes. i couldn’t shake the niggling feeling that these events were heavy handed. i felt a bit bopped on the head. what with the various winks and self references. so in that sense, the show succeeds.

i did quite like it when the actors came to the front of the stage and did these kind of confessional moments.

my poetical friend, an ardent non-capitalist, sat with his backpack in his lap. throughout the evening he was calling out in low tones, “uh uh”, “oh no”, “whaaaaat?” and “jesus” in response to the stage antics. i appreciated this subversive tactic. later, at one point i looked over at him and he had his head in his lap, eyes closed. it was amazing.

zzzzz avec le sac

zzzzz avec le sac

some performers, particularly lana lesley, hannah kenah and paul soileau, were frighteningly good in their roles and for that the show is entirely worth it. some very good tunes too. the end moment involves more tap dancing, but i yearned for something more dangerous, a 20-minute exhaustion of exertion on par with the level of choreographer sarah michelson, instead of 2 minutes. and while i love contemporary parlance i yearned for more moments with heightened olden language. but i’ll stop prescribing.

the doctor is in

speaking of doctors, on the eve of valentine’s day i got to use my medical degree–in love–at rady & bloom‘s valentine’s day promenade. and what a walk it was!

thump bump!

thump bump!

wonderful love poems and letters were read aloud throughout the evening and i even took a heart rate. thump thump! the evening culminated in a marriage proposal .. so heartfelt and beautiful! there wasn’t a dry eye in the place. he went down on one knee and the other fella said yes. i threw the confetti. what magic!

this kippy’s heart was very full.

c’est tout for now.

kippy

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4 Responses to “weak in re-vieux”

  1. Stacy Grossfield Says:

    Thanks so much for this beautiful post! I’m so glad you were there to witness the piece.

    -Stacy

  2. click here Says:

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