HUB
the archive and movement laboratory of conceptual dance theatre company A House Unbuilt... spending at least an hour a day, making space, marking time,—making enough room to feel, tremendously, again.
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5 posts tagged rain
HUB 195
wet
Everything wet
(sat, 3)
![HUB 113.2: by Guillaume Apollinaire[Rough Translation: It is raining of the voices of women as if they were dead even in memory It is you also that it rains marvelous meetings of my life, oh little drops And these reared-up clouds take themselves to neighing an entire universe of auricular cities Listen if it rains while regret and disdain cry an ancient music Listen to the falling of the bonds that restrain you from top to bottom]](http://25.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_lmnslhWzbf1qhe5vbo1_500.png)
HUB 113.2:
by Guillaume Apollinaire
[Rough Translation: It is raining of the voices of women as if they were dead even in memory It is you also that it rains marvelous meetings of my life, oh little drops And these reared-up clouds take themselves to neighing an entire universe of auricular cities Listen if it rains while regret and disdain cry an ancient music Listen to the falling of the bonds that restrain you from top to bottom] 
HUB 87:
I cannot seem to quiet my mind about having put you through that horrific scene last night. I keep conjecturing on the very valid critique that should come my way. If you could just tell me the worst of it now so I can perhaps get over it and stop this preoccupation with failure. I know good things can come of all this but right now it all feels awful. Also, I’m likely being just as absurd with these words as with the performance, so feel free to roll your eyes at me, as I wrote on the wall to you last night.
The aftermath…
is how, at midway through this three hour piece, I realized there needn’t be a piece anymore, that it was all too much, that it was irrelevant, that all those emotions came up then and really only then did the piece begin. It was only then that i could demand water, a cigarette and stop the noise. It was only then that i could command the audience with my words. It was only then, in the aftermath of trying so hard to achieve something, that I might have achieved something… and maybe only one image is needed to show that, or a sound, or some form or editing and translation that is perhaps as simple as this screenshot of my unsubscribing from the mood chart study that had been prescribing my life to me for the past year and a half. I had to make the work to realize i didn’t have to show the work… or what needed to be shown was not the making but the understanding gleaned from it. 
HUB 63.4:
Cold, wet night.
Wind pushing me.
Umbrella like a shield,
no, a parachute—
now a sword!
The mist hits my face and I dance.
All aglow as I choreograph this street-lit night.
