I attended a ritual last night for the Southern Hemisphere Halloween, correct time. It was very very interesting. Many people wrote messages for their dead loved ones, and an author who had organised the evening played a little squeezebox accordian. On Ponsonby Rd no less. Good on her I say. The less lolly eating for kids the better...teach them to write and read in the night with other like minded individuals. And to light candles safely.
The question for me is though, does a ritual like this evoke the dead, or are they around us all the time? Leading onto, is God in church, or if God did create the world, is God then in every atom in the world in equal measure? Where are the dead? And where is God? As much as I love rituals, I must say that I also really love simplicity and the quiet.
I'm writing this while sitting in my living room, eating peanut butter on toast, in a towel. Oh how I love my privacy. Excellent.
Thursday, April 30, 2009
Wednesday, April 29, 2009
Shit. Shit. Shit.
I've just spied a couple of spelling mistakes in the first blog. There is no editing tool to change. Bugger that I am in such a hurry and should be digging a hole in the garden for my son's trampoline. Shit!!!!! I am so anal in this way. Bugger.
I am dancing...or am I?
I reached the point in dance class today where I felt that for my 'informal showing', in May, I may well bring a horse into the gallery, stand with the horse, and say..."Would anyone like to dance with my horse?" And see what happens.
Similar to doing Honours in MediArts, researching the Appropriation of Artifacts between Greece and The U.K in 2001, going to the British School in Athens with my 2yr old, only to be told that I could not take my child into the library. I had spoken to them at length from New Zealand, and they had neglected to mention this fact to me. I got my I.D anyway, (which I still have, I have dreads and look stressed), left, only to encounter a large group of Muslim refugees outside. They had babies, children, old people in the group, and they were cooking around a gas fire. Back in New Zealand, I felt so disheartened at the injustice in the world, I was tempted to put 50 goats in the gallery and use that for my installational. I would ask people to walk through the shit, and help me load the goats into a truck, and then drive away. I had given my friends Nana, (Yaya), the Heimleche manouvere in Greece after she had choked on goat meat. She had Alzheimers. Mama Mia. The incidental research aspect was enormous on this trip.
A life of multitudinal possibilites, with x x x x x amount of limitations to realise and conquer.
Now, in 2009, I have had the finger of a tiny dance student pointed at me only to say, "She's not a dancer, and she likes it." (The cultural anthropological reading we were studying.) Another has told me that I could come back next week and be weird. Jesus. I espouse Interdisciplinary attitudes whereve I go, and am not ashamed to work in this way, as the greater world does work. I so a choreographed sword dance for the 1st years. Yay for boxing classes, I can now feel strong and confident as I dance/whirl the heavy implement around my head/balance it on my head. I musn't be dancing though.
Thus...the dancing horse. Or, the shitting horse. Or, the horse that gives birth. Is the horse noble? And can people follow this example?
Similar to doing Honours in MediArts, researching the Appropriation of Artifacts between Greece and The U.K in 2001, going to the British School in Athens with my 2yr old, only to be told that I could not take my child into the library. I had spoken to them at length from New Zealand, and they had neglected to mention this fact to me. I got my I.D anyway, (which I still have, I have dreads and look stressed), left, only to encounter a large group of Muslim refugees outside. They had babies, children, old people in the group, and they were cooking around a gas fire. Back in New Zealand, I felt so disheartened at the injustice in the world, I was tempted to put 50 goats in the gallery and use that for my installational. I would ask people to walk through the shit, and help me load the goats into a truck, and then drive away. I had given my friends Nana, (Yaya), the Heimleche manouvere in Greece after she had choked on goat meat. She had Alzheimers. Mama Mia. The incidental research aspect was enormous on this trip.
A life of multitudinal possibilites, with x x x x x amount of limitations to realise and conquer.
Now, in 2009, I have had the finger of a tiny dance student pointed at me only to say, "She's not a dancer, and she likes it." (The cultural anthropological reading we were studying.) Another has told me that I could come back next week and be weird. Jesus. I espouse Interdisciplinary attitudes whereve I go, and am not ashamed to work in this way, as the greater world does work. I so a choreographed sword dance for the 1st years. Yay for boxing classes, I can now feel strong and confident as I dance/whirl the heavy implement around my head/balance it on my head. I musn't be dancing though.
Thus...the dancing horse. Or, the shitting horse. Or, the horse that gives birth. Is the horse noble? And can people follow this example?
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