I love this picture because it looks like we made the audience cry. Well, we did. And whether it was from the onions in a small space or the subject matter...who cares?
We were exhilarated afterward. We wanted to perform it every day.
It was cathartic.
It was like saying everything we were feeling without speaking a word.
We performed 3 nights between an assemblage of other performance art, short pieces, films, one-acts--all "speaking through, at, and from within this vicious and incredibly alive moment in our history." We got to feel what it was like to recreate the intimacy in a larger space; the immediacy within repetition; the fervor even when half the audience walked out beforehand because they were there to see the piece before ours. All good. All juicy. All so necessary in this art-as-a-way-to-survive-crazy-times thing.
But not just survive.
Somehow influence. Somehow affect the tide.
I've been spending a lot of time thinking about that recently.
We played around with color more in the NYC performances.
Onions were red.
Shoes were yellow.
Slips were white.
More layers of clothing to peel off. 20 pound bags of onions we carried in slung over our shoulders then dropped heavily onto the table. We got a lot of great feedback and responses that are factoring into next iterations of the piece.
Here's a little mention of us in a Culturebot article about the festival.
In the meantime, I maintain my sanity taking Storm on hikes to see the ridiculous sunsets we've been blessed with pretty much nightly here in the Bay Area. Enjoy a slideshow of these #nofilter pictures!