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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16 posts tagged surprise
“So here is my thought - you introduced me to Werther, and throughout that discovery I wanted nothing more than to share that journey with you. But you had already traveled the road, and I was far behind. Add to that your comment that you knew little of opera. So my idea is that we explore the opera Werther together! I know nothing of it. It may be wonderful or it may be terrible - I have no idea. But if we explore it together, the journey will be great fun, regardless of where we end up. Now we need to plot our course for the exploration.”
HUB 267:
from recent correspondence (RDH) 
“
Part 3: “A LETTER IN WHICH A DANCE IS MADE IN CORRESPONDENCE”
Dear V,
It was while still seated in my studio that I began to think of a dance that I would send to you. I can’t remember what it was that you had said to have promoted such a response from me but I have a feeling that it has something to do with the distance between those who are corresponding, between the two who are writing and sending messages. Messages that, as you have noted, are at times more alike and more apart, that are at times more sincere and less authentic. I started writing you a dance like this before putting it aside.
The next morning, while reading your message, I again began to think of a dance. We were more alike in this one. In fact, as I imagined it, we mirrored each other. Each watching the other for cues of how and when to move, to breath, to step. It was impossible. I tried again later that afternoon to get the movements down, to decide where to step on my own, while imaging how you might have followed, or led. In your message you had made it sound as though the distance between two dancers was nothing more than the space between letters. I thought of this and made a hopeful dance before putting it aside.
This morning, while seated at the breakfast table, working through my notes for the day and again thinking of a dance to send to you, I had this thought and made this dance:
This distance, the one I am so eager to trace, is littered with buildings and as I work to fold myself around them I think, “You would have done the same.”
Best,
A
HUB 230:
From recent correspondence. A new collaboration brewing.
HUB 201:
“Well in general, Yes!” he said… Specifics by mid-October. Smile. Not just because it all seems a go, but because it felt good, I felt good, I felt like I could hold my own and learn so much. My mother says, “Can you just can that and keep it around for those tough days in Chicago when you need a smile?” If only. Tough days, tough thoughts ever creeping in, scratching at the chalkboard of my mind. Shake it out, though, shake it out, walk, walk, walking so many steps that the backs of my ankles (do ankles have backs?—backs of my heels…) wore thin with each step in this city space that reminds me of the uneven steps of my crescent city down home. I think I like it here. —Is that Annie? Yeah, I really think I’m gonna like it here. 
“Blue is sad, blue is memory and nostalgia, but blue is also affrontery and impudence. And this is what I love about the colour. The most expensive of colors. Blue is prize. No public one. Intimate prize. Blue says: outrageously and absurdly: I am yours or you are mine! And no other colour can judge us. No simple colour can judge jewel. There’s an impromptu by Schubert which talks of this. And Charlie Parker became Bird because he knew about blue.”
HUB 165.1:
from John Berger 13.4.1997 (I Send You This Cadmium Red)
“Just off the highway to Rochester, Minnesota, /Twilight bounds softly forth on the grass. /And the eyes of those two Indian ponies /Darken with kindness. /They have come gladly out of the willows /To welcome my friend and me. /We step over the barbed wire into the pasture /Where they have been grazing all day, alone. /They ripple tensely, they can hardly contain their happiness /That we have come.
They bow shyly as wet swans. They love each other. /There is no loneliness like theirs. /At home once more, they begin munching the young tufts of spring in the darkness. /I would like to hold the slenderer one in my arms, /For she has walked over to me /And nuzzled my left hand. /She is black and white, /Her mane falls wild on her forehead, /And the light breeze moves me to caress her long ear /That is delicate as the skin over a girl’s wrist. /Suddenly I realize /That if I stepped out of my body I would break /Into blossom.”
HUB 154:
A BLESSING by James Wright, a gift out of new correspondence, new connection. Certain joy.
HUB 150
I think I will keep this hour (or was it hours) for myself.
“From childhood’s hour I have not been /As others were - I have not seen /As others saw - I could not bring /My passions from a common spring.
From the same source I have not taken /My sorrow; I could not awaken /My heart to joy at the same tone; /And all I lov’d, I lov’d alone.”
HUB 109.2:
Edgar Allen Poe, quoted to me by a friend. Profound connections being made—there’s no going back. 
HUB 47.2:
End to the day. Long day, good day, day in sustained pain of exhaustion. Trying to find sleep, but lights flashing beyond my eyelids—closed, my body—tucked in. There’s a rumble. Is it the train? But then it repeats too soon, light then rumble, then rumble and light, closer, faster. A spring storm brewing and I find respite in its sensory embrace. PFA
HUB 44.2:
Inviting new worlds into the arrangement. You have the mirror in your hand. If I focus on me, on seeing myself again, on trusting myself again, then relationships will fall in (or out) of place, and I’ll know how to deal with it when it does. RA
HUB 43.2:
She doesn’t ask permission. She trusts her passion. She’s driven. She stands out and likes it that way. She doesn’t hesitate. She wants to feel things deeply, to push, to be pushed back. She desires. She doesn’t want, she needs, and she satisfies those needs.
She gets carried away…
There are things about her i don’t remember how to feel, and it’s a process, an emergence… I have to keep extending the invitation to her, and eventually, she’ll be the one in charge again.
She is on fire. She sets fire to the world around her. She is magnetic. She also starts fires, so there’s a bit of danger.
Red.
There’s that color again. RA
HUB 40.1: Keyboard proficiency and Airport queues
him:: Is there an online version? Better yet you need to make your own. I've been humming the whole time.
her:: humming!? fantastic! and oooh! yes, I do need to make my own version. I love it. Perhaps we'll come up with some of the "physical challenges" in the lab! Somehow when we talk like this I end up with all sorts of new ideas. I hope the humming is enough of a return for you. ha.
him:: Haha o far more, humming and new ideas are one in the same for me.
her:: i'm like a giddy school girl here, curling my toes! yay! hahaha. you should record your humming... maybe we will use it in the lab. create a special mic just to capture "silent" humming
him:: Haha, a contact Mic and a band aid? I could see that working
her:: yes. yes yes yes. i'd love to fashion it as an almost marketable personal object... a special case, set of band-aids, instruction manual.
him:: That would be just an interesting set of instructions, apply the band aid at the point of the wound, plug in to your recorder so to here your healing.
her:: beautiful—we will make this.
HUB 33.1:
A couple of hours at the Roger Brown Study Collection on Halsted… She loves the attitude of this place—no one telling you what to like, what’s good or bad. It’s learning in a different way, learning to trust yourself, your instincts. You can just like a thing without regard for its “external value”—exploring, feeling, learning how to see in a new way… What museums are for, or used to be for. (m.a.)
HUB 24.2:
Talk, minutes turn to hours, more talk. The kind that takes to our hands…
Tangents. New ideas about collective energies and community involvement. Art as a behavior more than an object. Tight rope walking and dinner party revivals—bringing a world engendered by such activities outside the typical sphere of contemporary art… in Chicago and beyond.
A new voice. Thank you.
Also, I apologize for the in-motion quality of the photo. I suppose I was not paying much attention to the camera settings and so got a bit of a blur—or perhaps resonance is a better term, much the mood of the conversation itself I think.
(m.a.)
