The last workshop is over. Number five. I was lucky to have the neighbouring group joining my group from the start because few people showed up. My colleague volunteered to take his students with him. Pre-liminally, the group was lined outside the door in the same way as the other days. I began the listening part while they were in the line with eyes closed. They were asked to spread…
The workshop is developing. (…) Today, two tables were placed staggered in the centre of the room. Writing stations on either side with blotter pads, paper, pen and different colour ink. On two other tables remaining along the wall, books and texts were laid out. Print out pages were omitted and only colour-bound books with silk ribbon bookmarks were available to read from. (…) Both of today’s workshops had an…
(Excerpts) IN THE CORRIDOR smiling faces, some well-known, some of strangers, quiet concentration. Faces line up. Hands handling phones. Anticipation rising. Stomach churning, but eye contact, yes, eye contact, easily found. Lean on it. Lean on what is light. Right: warm hand on veiled shoulder, sweaty shoulder, frail or strong shoulder. (…) What consideration! What support – for all doubt, For meager voices, For me For life in this Cube…
This week, I will be conducting workshops as a continuation of the boarding school experiences. This time, the frame is the school that I work on. Over the next three days, five workshops will take place taking their starting point from classes held at SAM. I have been preparing books in one-colour wrapping and copying texts for my students to experience and perform. The plan is in short to open…
Train ride in bright sunshine Stations wizzing by, then a bridge. Under September clouds a single bird turns and completes a new spiral. The sunlight blinds me I close my eyes, let the frail warmth sink in and fill my features. Time for waiting
I go through the exit rituals of preparing the bed for the next visitor, leaving the notebook in the archive with the charming Mode, waiting on the staircase with other students who are terminating their stay. The process is long and demanding on my patience, but I talk with some of the people I have met at this school. We smile, we hug, we do not want it to end,…
The Geneva Project is an ongoing multi-disciplinary sensory experience where both the performer and the spectator are immersed in an environment that may be considered a dream space, a conjuring of worlds past, present and future, where time shifts in an instant, where light and dark operate simultaneously revealing the beauty and trauma of everyday life. Geneva is a conduit. Geneva brings to light that, which was once hidden.
I entered the school as the poetic self ”the Catalyst”, witch I am, but I dident understand. I entered the school to explore the theme and situations of teaching og knowledge. I became the Nothing. I explored deeply the spaces of the nothing inbetween things. The nothing that is left, when all that defines my knowledge and me is gone. Cleansing my definition af being, relating teaching, learning, out. I was so lost. ”Is so much…
The Voice of Gas is moving in a multiple universe. Transcending with stillness in her heart close to earth, giving voice to honesty. The truth is vibrating… Like an animal resonating with water and air, dreaming in a large scale, predicting and watching it all come toghether. The truth is vibrating… starting it all over again, dancing, singing, making love to the creation. Slowly accepting, slowly turning, slowly…
We don’t know when she was born, but through handmade gesture is she able to make power structers in the room – visible and negotiatble. Silence is her voice. You can reach her inner voice through deep concentration. It is placed deep in her stomach – it sounds like something in between a lion and a tiger. She wears a lion costume. It’s her perception of the world…
