sunday night

entering the media point to see and feel the day long event of sound of aircraft attacking britain you are catapulted into a sort of no man's land of sound , image and bodies- effects lights glisten like a concert- the fusion of the music is quite beautiful in a desolating way- moments build then fade as a sort of tension invades the space- it is hard to experience the holistic quality of the piece stepping in off the street for 20 mins- i would have liked to have tased it for longer to gain a deeper insight but my time was sufficient to be thrust into this no man's land where anything could happen- it reminds me of godspeed yr black emperor's lift yr skinny fists to heaven album, with epic moments rising and falling into brooding nothingness then exploding is a brave and unpretentious piece that challenges our comfort zones and provokes many questions- perhaps blair and brown could listen for a while.just in case..........

then to the "tracing shadows" piece- almsot a church like feel to the entrance and waiting in darkenedsilence- feel myself wanting ot hear a voice but have to rein in those literary needs to focus on the figure that is sprawled on the floor lit by a dim almost grey light-
sound effects and music were beautiful and truly transported the audience into this silent world this feminine world we are watching like voyeurs- at times it is almost painful, other times almost erotic, an ebb and flow of a life of lives fading and growing living and dying- on the theory of moments as i let myself go with the piece and transcend gender and time - i owudl have liked more intro as to why this dress was important and what drives woman to this dress but the getting into it and the moments after are very beautiful, very moving ,very real- it made me think of a woman's body trapped and used by man for his own ends and a poem i have jsut written about female genital mutilation......
(for waris dirie)

eyelids down
drenched in righteousness
spitting venom upon innocent skin

to secrecy
steeped in indignity
parading as,
cultural identity,

stapled sexuality
an egotist's litany
controlling lives
with rusted knives

stitched virginity
with thorns of masculinity

the mouth clings to memory
as blood in dirt
an indelible history
drowned in theocracy

even diamonds slip to insignificance
as the price of purity
rises as does
the perpetual misery

be it religion or cultural
that shape the fear of the clitoral
all are evil and genocidal

eyelids open
drenched in morality
spit reason
upon decrepid ritual

and after returning home tonight the images of the dancer/actor have stayed indelible in my mind and
i was inspired to write a stream of consciousness poem/song/statement born out of this tender fusion of body spirit and society.........................


where drought drips
and doom looms,
like eyebright nectar
suck deep the fissure
of life lipping love
to where growth escapes.

against the grain
like evening rain
for earthshine
we must glow
feed our roots
so we may use our once wings,
spring sprung songs
of growing,
leaftaste on trembling tongue
branchburst birth
streamshimmer and mountainmarch
i know sapflow,
must go
to grow,

and fulfill those skywrote dreams,

that ground our feet.

thnak you helena hunter for yr beautiful moving and challenging piece......................

so, thanks for allowing me to share my thoughts on experimentica- it has been enlightening- rage on....

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