Friday, April 3, 2009

fool in the rain



studio baltimore starts tomorrow. i should be freaking out right now. but i'm not. i've put all these pieces are in play, now it's just a matter of really letting go. and seeing what happens.

my mind is totally ready to go.

in concrete culture this morning we went to go look at an allyway that the group might do site specific work in. (an interesting move with the most rain i've ever seen in baltimore falling from the sky. we nearly got washed away.) site specificity brings with it a whole new can of worms for me. i really have no idea what i will do. (which is one thing about studio baltimore... i get to dump that responsibility on someone else.) what do i want to bring to this space? a piece that provides awareness? a piece with an actual function? a piece that is completely open ended non-objective? a piece that sits on a conceptual high horse? a piece that emphases something that is already there? a piece that says nothing at all? a piece that promps something else in the viewer? a piece that just gets plopped down? and so on...

the thing that sucks is i am easily influenced. especially with words. (tara called that one last year...) this semester (and lately it's been heightened) i've had so many different outside elements pulling me in different directions. it's not as existential a meltdown that i'm doubting the core of who i am or where i stand. but i find that it's forcing me to hone in on what exactly i'm getting at even more.

i remember reading "doubt" in tragedy junior year and loving the author's introduction more than the play itself. i don't really know if i'm allowed to copy and paste this all... but i couldn't edit it down any further. it's all good.

"What’s under a play? What holds it up? You might as well ask what’s under me? On what am I built? There’s something silent under every person and under every play. There’s something unsaid under any given society as well.

There’s a symptom apparent in America right now. It’s evident in political talk shows, in entertainment coverage, in artistic criticism of every kind, in religious discussion. We are living in a courtroom culture. We were living in a celebrity culture, but that’s dead. Now we are only interested in celebrities if they’re in court. We are living in a culture of extreme advocacy, of confrontation, of judgment, and of verdict. Discussion has given way to debate. Communication has become a contest of wills. Public talking has become obnoxious and insincere. Why? Maybe it’s because deep down under the chatter we have come to a place where we know that we don’t know… anything. But nobody’s willing to say that.

Let me ask you. Have you ever held a position in an argument past the point of comfort? Have you ever defended a way of life you were on the verge of exhausting? Have you ever given service to a creed you no longer utterly believed? Have you ever told a girl you loved her and felt the faint nausea of eroding conviction? I have. For a playwright, it’s the beginning of an idea. I saw a piece of real estate on which I might build a play, a play that sat on something silent in my life and in my time. I started with a title: Doubt.

What is Doubt? Each of us is like a planet. There’s the crust, which seems eternal. We are confident about who we are. If you ask, we can readily describe our current state. I know my answers to many questions, as do you. What was your father like? Do you believe in God? Who’s your best friend? What do you want? Your answers are your current topography, seemingly permanent, but deceptively so. Because under that face of easy response, there is another You. And this wordless Being moves just as the instant moves; it presses upward without explanation, fluid and wordless, until the resisting consciousness has no choice but to give way.

It is Doubt (so often experienced initially as weakness) that changes things. When a man feels unsteady, when he falters, when hard-won knowledge evaporates before his eyes, he’s on the verge of growth. The subtle or violent reconciliation of the outer person and the inner core often seem at first like a mistake, like you’ve gone the wrong way and you’re lost. But this is just emotion longing for the familiar. Life happens when the tectonic power of your soul breaks through the dead habits of the mind. Doubt is nothing less than an opportunity to reenter the Present.

There is an uneasy time when belief has begun to slip, but hypocrisy has yet to take hold, when the consciousness is disturbed, but not yet altered. It is the most dangerous, important, and ongoing experience of life. The beginning of change is the moment of Doubt. It is that crucial moment when I renew my humanity or become a lie.

Doubt requires more courage than conviction does, and more energy; because conviction is a resting place and doubt is infinite – it is a passionate exercise. You may come out of my play uncertain. You may want to be sure. Look down on that feeling. We’ve got to learn to live with a full measure of uncertainty. There is no last word. That’s the silence under the chatter of our time.”


fletcher told me the other day that if you end the day with more questions than answers, you're in good shape. i couldn't relate more with that imbalance lately. and for someone who is used to knowing, it's a weird feeling. i don't really like ending the day unsure. but it certainly keeps things moving forward. i'll embrace the search.

edit: i just realized i should have posted this with the mention of the ally above, which is actually behind my teacher, sarah doherty's rowhome. coming to baltimore by way of san fran, she made this act of investment, by cleaning up the trash/needles/etc. and coloring in each crack with this bright blue chalk.

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