"Rainbow Warrior": Love Me: Live Series Final: Notes: 2011

LOVE ME

So and so everyone. An utterance, a gesture, She's taken the mic having crawled to it, having fallen through perspex, she's body painted with a bright 70s looking rainbow, her face is half painted black like a warrior. Rainbow Warrior. Half face painted black the reference is open. She's rotated to each side of the room like a ballet figurine in a jewelery box behind perspex held up by 2 friends acting as body guards, completing a slowed down tai chi routine to each wall- side of the box- like a preserved colonised-colonising, hyper-sexualised relic behind a museum case- while 2 other friends in wetsuits toss objects at the perspex, a helmet, bandages, plastic, jeans, a book on dreams, another on Being Pakeha, nothing is extraneous. Wetsuits? Why?

Rainbow Warrior.

A NZ- Greenpeace boat bombed by French Spies in the mid 1980s during anti-nuclear testing protest in which someone was killed.

History.

Love Me.

I remember the Rainbow Warrior moored half sunken for years as a child beside the draw bridge down by the Central Auckland viaduct harbour now where multi-million dollar apartments and a boat city reside, as my mother drove me to swimming lessons at the Tepid Baths. I couldn't work out as a 10 year old why my parents' friend, my best ballet friend's father, was the lawyer for the 2 French spies- often referred to in NZ as terrorists at that time. Why is he defending them? I would ask. 'Someone has to' was the reply. 'He is the top of the top and they don't stand a chance'. And NZ is still ostracised by particularly the U.S.A for its anti-nuclear stance but as a child I am proud.

Love Me.

So they climbed in wetsuits beneath the boat and planted a bomb. And their punishment was ? Exiled on an island. No prison.

WE are already exiled on an island.

Pacific Island.

And so there she is, naked rainbow warrior- dance terrorist.. the bodypaint only covers the front so when the backside is revealed she is white, red hair.. like so many classical paintings- the nude. Then they climb through and they massage her body, the 2 friends in wetsuits, they feed her banana (evolution ref yep) and put on red lacey underpants and dress her in a silver skirt and gold sequined top bought from the Turkish markets for cheap in Berlin last year for a night out clubbing and finally a kahki green military shoulder pack- as she completes the tai chi configuration to the sound of aeroplanes lifting and landing and sci-fi screetches blurbling... she is unscathed and the eye of the storm. Pedastal, ambiguous, protected? Preserved? Pampered? Revered- hated? Is this seriouso or do I laugh- its ridiculous right? There's spaghetti stuck to the bottom of my feet from a piece earlier in the show.

Rainbow Warrior. I have a vivid memory of how sad it was to see the peace boat half sunken – green boat- with white dove holding an olive branch in its beak on the stern. Little rainbow too.

I and she falls on her face through the barrier, the small piece of perspex left after it has accidentally snapped on opening night without one performer flinching.. flicking inches from her face. What's up with the sad vibe? Why are people so serious about nudity? I have a rainbow painted on me!

Snap. She asks for the red light to be put on by the lighting technician and points to it at the back, and for the music to be turned up as well as the mic. She has total control and has broken an illusion of a performance. Or has she? Not one person really knows whether this is part of the performance or an accident, not even the technician. For her its a double up....

So everyone............. she says.

Garble garble garble. Words nothing nothing, something blah blah... through the mic. Looking into eyes who say to her.. 'um'. The eyes read to her like 'are you taking the piss out of us?' or 'its a bit scary for this just naked woman to be even staring into our eyes and talking non-sensically through a mic, so what are you up to exactly?'... This is most fun right here this moment.

Then mic down dubstep really loud... I she the beast does a backwards roll into screaming and dancing. Urban nightmare, dubstep primal ryhthm dark grounding and powerful- club night out? Yep I dance like this out too- and people also freak -minus the screaming. Give me space people.

Now in the studio- this section was always transformative for me because the moment you start moving your precious body around and dancing and also sounding – however you want to – improv styles.. dancing to rhythmic music and voicing gutterally a range of sounds which come out of months of explorations – 'what is this thing?' basically finding and moving through a variety of emotional states and images through history of humanity sometimes accompanied with movements to match or not- you actually transform your state into a trance. Its impossible not to... and woah- where did hours go and what IS THIS? Still.

How it reads is actually pretty insignificant really. This was always going to be the case because in every rehearsal what comes out is unique to that moment which is nothing new but what it even is is always a big question mark.

Is it even cathartic? Not really, given that much of my work has often been labelled 'cathartic' or 'expressive', 'aggressive', 'radical', 'anarchist', 'messy', 'chaotic', 'dense', 'loud', 'expressionist' etc you get the point..

Maybe to some, especially in NZ and also in Germany where I was recently living- Berlin- which is in the grips of minimalist control 'quiet' – 'i'm dancing on the inside (of my brain)' sort of vibe.. both of which are countries with an incredible amount of repression and cultural tension- culturally socially, sexually... passive aggressive cultures with layers of guilt- colonisation in NZ, obvious fascism in Germany... and so this kind of exploration just freaks some people right out.

This to me is funny. Perhaps I am sadistic? Yeah yeah playful trickster, also nothing new. Shaman. Blah blah.. whatevs. How many times can someone call me a witch or a dangerous woman?

It was never my intention to look traumatised or to be cathartic but to simply explore voice, sound as an extention of body expression and I guess I just have a great deal of energy trapped inside that wants to come out. :D As Chris Jannides says in one of my support letters I have my own kind of 'virtuosity' going on.

Naturally come performance more subtle explorations in the studio exploded out and uped the anti.. to something more grotesque and extreme. Perhaps it was always extreme... only I was there in the studio to know.. to feel what those layers shed were to get to the public arena with it.

Yes the point is that Love is inexpressible in words and it has all the shades of the rainbow and more. It is not easy or simple, it is dense and complex and it can be ugly and painful as well as light and fun and sexy and fun and gorgeous and absolutely uncontrollable.. Love is wild. It is gentle inside the play. Who dares come near it? What do we even know of it really? Power and vulnerability exposed, nothing left to hide. Shattering even in the grace. Most powerful moment. And some people can't stand this I know. That's totally fine and I include that. I acknowledge that.

When you really push an art form you lose people and you really gain people. Its a balance. Some people get heaps of pingers I get to experiment.

Yep yep yep... I had to use words to explain myself here which is the opposite of the point. But hey. Its just more explorations.. right? Can I 'get it right'?

I've been asked to produce a short work (15mins- though i snuck up to 16 of course being maximalist) for a Live Series for a sponsored 'Producing project' for new and emerging producers to explore ways to produce... and so as a 10 year experienced experimental choreographer (self producer) returned to NZ from Berlin not so long ago – whose work (despite winning multiple awards etc) tends to fall out of the safe zone for arts administration to fund on the whole- had an idea and wanted to make it without producing it myself. Here I am in the Love Me show for the Live Series- the final after Taste me and Hear Me. Keeping up the practice and deepening investigations, still part of community upcoming. A strategic move for my career? Lol. Lol. You decide.

I don't know what other people's experiences or understandings of Love ARE- but mine is not relegated to romantic or sexual love. This work is about humanity for me, its about consicousness and its about awareness, its about where the fuck are we going humans? What have we come from? Do we even know what love is or how to handle it? Naturally I am generalising humanity which is instantly flawed and ridiculous but actually I am interested in speaking across bridges. Naturally. Attempts, offerings actually. Call it naïve or bold. Arrogant.. you name it. Sweet bix.

Struggle and freedom and privilege and change and gratitude. Go hand in hand.

Compassion. The buddhists say this is the highest form of love.

'Love Me' -although I am a fucking messy crazed, power mongering, foolish, suicidal, terrifying, wimpering, controlling, ridiculous, FRIGGIN HILARIOUS (like who are we fooling here?) actually pretty loveable and entertaining being.. inherently capable of power without power over.

Powerfool>Powerfull.

If you can't love without taking all into account, your love is shallow. Says she. Its not love ownership.

I am crossing the divide- I am wanting a genuine exchange here.. which is uncomfortable- between audience and performer. I am not dictating what you should feel or think. This is up for discussion.

Ok- so I pretend to have sex and I stumble around looking fully traumatised (which i guess i largely am in this oversaturated pretty insensitive and competitive world when I tend to give a lot and earn very little money which this world says is a priority while selling shallow and fabricated notions of what love is to us as consumers) and i pretend to give birth out of having sex.. my function as a woman, warrior and everyone is laughing at me. The trauma is obviously funny. Its 'over the top'. But is it really?

How inaccurate is it for daily living in even the most boring places on this planet? HOW ARE YOU FEELING AT THIS POINT IN HISTORY? Fear is sold to us and we pay for it. Drama is our programming and our entertainment.

Doesn't everyone want to scream and laugh and woop and shout and roll around like a freak, and bark and fold in uncanny ways and shake and cry, and vomit and wretch and curl and twirl and laugh again... and celebrate being alive? With humour and no shame. Without holding back and being small as not to upset others or some prescribed psychic social power balance?
Blah, she says with respect and love. This is Freud's unconscious naturally, being what we 'repress' and unconsciously 'desire' to be functional in the adult symbolic world. ETC.

And people say afterwards that they feel the whole space transform when the voice starts up. It cuts through the imaginary space... the 4th wall... dancers- 'don't yell'! They don't generally even speak. Nice objectified fetish bodies for eyes to enjoy.

But hey the voice is part of the body, the body is part of the mind, the body is heart and soul and thoughts and feelings and the barrier and interface between inside and outside... communication.

The work is about communication. Lacan. Mr Frenchy psychoanalysis pants. She pants. Give me a french kiss.

Its the pre-symbolic stage.

Kiss.

I hate psychoanalysis. Its fully sexist. And so useful. Thanks Lacan. Mark says afterwards in the panel discussion that Lacan says that we can never really love that we only project our desire onto the other. Interesting. Very unholistic academic theory but yep that's in there too coz this is the way the western world largely is indoctrinated to think. And I'm no saint or preacher, I just as an artist am making art and being human.

So yay, writhing around radical feminist again- crazy friggin incarnated nutface goddess from wherever- paganistic ritualistic release in your face. 2011 galatos love me. Live Series. Auckland. Last 2 days of August. Rugby world cup just round the corner.

Yup. 'Going off'.

'Whose with me?'

Inexpressible... I jump on the stage in red lighting – maybe gonna do something different? Nup- same shiz.... she's now framed on the stage gutteral and kinda mocking dance and our control of the body and women and all that... our voice- can't be heard, language is more of a barrier than perspex – the false divide- to being understood and loved... can love/ in all its shades- transcend words?

Can it Lacan?

Am I sexy? Am I desirable?

Irigaray would say yes. Our lips speak as one. Vaginal references here. French feminist philosophy.

I search the audience, they look a bit more invigorated than last time i looked at them. Curious. They I. Entertained rather than traumatised by hurling objects that could bounce off perspex and hit them.

I choose the right guy, someone I know will be up for it. An actor friend or dancer, its Edward... then next night Mike, someone I collaborate with.. can work with. I had planned people I might choose. Yes its a MAN. It HAS TO BE. (I'm NOT a lesbian right?)

I sit in his lap... he's sweet with it. Looks slightly startled – both of them say both nights 'how are you going?'... I say ' oh fine'. Reminds me of when I'm living in Berlin and with pleasantries like 'how are you?' they all say bemusedly 'I'm fine'. Like who cares? Its so English.

:D

No one can hear, its just between me and them and the one next to them.. both nights a woman. 'You up for some yelling?' I say.. having tested this out – in rehearsal... I'd done some more gibberish at them and it hadn't worked to get them up.. but still interested in – what is communicating- can body language alone work?

No. Not in this case. Failed first night, cool. He says after wards that he was 'star struck' by me.. he can't get up and just stares at me. Cute! He didn't come up til i handed him the mic to burble in and people clapped.

Second night I grabbed Mike's hand and dragged him onto the stage and started yelling so he followed suit... he screams through them mic and pulls up my skirt and yells through the mic 'damn you!' More cheering from the crowd, esp the break dancer boy crew sitting up the 'front' (there's no front in this dance I face the back a lot) who at first were shaking their heads at him laughing at me naked apparently- like 'don't laugh at the naked woman'.

LOL>

Anyway moving on. Token audience participation moment after having already done a full solo work exploring audience interaction earlier in the year. I grab the mic back ask for someone to sing me a song and then just sing one myself out of time over dubstep. Leonard Cohen “I'm your man”. I yell 'where's my fucking man?' afterwards.. (Gotta be my own man yep- though once again could have lesbian interpretation- along with the rainbow pride on my body)

I turn away and sing 'Ain't no sunshine'... which trails into (and i turnaround) 'Turnaround... every now and then I get a little bit lonely and you're never coming round... '..

So now those who really didn't know what I was up to who sat with their arms folded and asking each other if this was still the same piece ('the lights go out when its over' said one)– finally can relax into laughter because- ok she's joking. We get it now..

But am I?

Sitting hunched on the floor I whisper 'And i need you now to tonight, and I need you more than ever. If you only hold me tight, we'll be holding on forever ..' (yep I'm single)

The track cuts out

'And we'll only be making it right'... audience laughter. Is it funny? Like a clown, I feel real serious.

I stand and smile. The music shifts to soft loving new age filmic sounding music... stolen.

'Now I'd like to invite my friends to translate for me into Japanese and German.' I say.. and arms up presenting 'Georgie and Karin'... So enter 2 of my gorgeous and ridiculously dressed (80s) friends who take the mic and huddle to translate what I am saying. I walk to and crawl up onto the stage under a spot light.

Very earnest moment. But also not something ever done in NZ culture except perhaps on a marae or in a therapy group because we do not like to express emotions publicly unless through movies.

I explain a list of how 'I feel'.. translated into japanese and german ... over music.

I feel

My body
Is all I have
I feel
Expectations &
Eyes looking at me
I can feel
My brain in my skull
I can feel the words vibrating in my throat as they come out (i touch my body in these places)
I can feel my heart beating behind my boob (no laughter damn, failed joke- or did they not hear me?)
I can feel the light blasting down on me, the darkness.. (gesturing with hands)

I climb off the stage and walk forward

I feel
Hungry (giggles)
I feel like chicken tonight (laughter always- ref to KFC ad)
The roof protecting us from the weather (they think I'm serious at this point.. maybe)
I feel understanding (eyeballing and gesturing one side of the room- very serious)
and misunderstanding (same- other side- super serious)
I feel Connection
and I feel
Disconnection (are they taking it personally?)
I feel
The love (is she sarcastic?)
I feel
Fear
and I can feel sadness..

I turn to face the back and scream 'I can feel the laughter!' and turn to smile at the audience a big cheesy grin. Usually laughter.
Repeat scream- 'I can feel the earth MOVE!' gesturing earthquake slightly. Laughter.

I can feel the change!

I climb back onto the stage.

I can feel (turn so people can hear) the suspension!

I pause one arm forward one arm behind like suspended in a desert storm holding it for as long as i feel a NZ audience will wait. In Berlin minimalism is commonplace so a whole dance of this would be fine, but 10secs is too long here good– so I then turn very slowly (oh and there's laughter- they get 'suspension'... followed by a stillness too long not facing them). Suspense. Second night I hold it way too long.

I want the piece to hit them in this moment, to 'sink in'.. manipulating the power of chaos – followed by silence. Slowly turning energy transferred from one hand to the other to pause exactly the same but facing them. I then slowly wave 'ciao'- which means hallo and goodbye in Italian (explained by an Italian friend in Berlin that it originated from the slaves- who were always at service so never really saying goodbye)... also bit like HALLO... and bye.. and composing and surfiing...feeling the earth 'move' and 'wtf?' is she doing again.... suspension... gestures irrelevant really... slow.. anyway. What is the body language as awkward as verbal language? Back to controlled and slowed- is she joking or serious? Backing out into the darkness... The translators who have at moments moved closer to hear.. both watching. .. I pull my hand – also a gesture referencing the end of the tai chi routine – hand up like HI.. BYE... i walk down the stairs at the back of the stage into the dark. Transcendence/descendence. I've done enough.

Sinking... Disappearing.

Translators are left on the stage staring at an empty stage.

Finale. Applause. Reappear for group bow. End of show.

And what's all that about?

Who can say.

How many languages does it take to be heard? If heard are you understood even? Just because you intend something- the interpreter can take it another way.

Why translate into the languages of the 2 WW2 aggressors through my amazing artist friends, both also very strong gorgeous females?

All a conicidence perhaps?

Why not into FRENCH?

France and England fought to colonise NZ- aside from French spies.

English.

'Universal language'... so I was told living Europe. Transcending difference. So I'm told.

:)

Where do I come from? Who am I and where am I going?

White girl born in Aotearoa.. I belong here. Mostly Irish in blood – English colonised me too. That's why we moved here.

I make ART. Real art which discomforts and uproots and questions and teases, and at moments pleases, just enough. 'Honesty in NZ is a no no' says a journalist in an interview.

It creates SPACE. I am not pandering and told I 'don't compromise' as if this is a prerequisite for being an artist in today's world and current funding system. That I 'don't play the game'. I do. I play the art game.

I am told there is space inside this work and yet is it very dense with possibility.

Afterward it seems to appeal to academics and general public alike and no one can articulate why.

Brilliant.

The panel fumbles to speak of it. How do we utter about something inexpressible in words? Something addressing this fact in Love.

What is real love? In our disconnection and misunderstanding we draw closer to what is slipping. We are drawn to know it, to find it. To sometime to control it? We cannot bind it or know it. We can never know ourselves says Lacan, Unless Enlightened says Buddha.

We are speechless and blind to love. We let it sit wrecked as a reminder on the harbour by a draw bridge for children to see... the passion of heart for the love of it. Our ocean. Our world, our people. We defend what? We devolve and when we evolve we are told we are mad and the growing pains- meet resistance. When we try to cross the bridge. To speak hurts unspeakable.. to heal past wrongs. In cultures, to empower ourselves to be truthful even if this gets us nowhere. It evolves our souls and affects those who cross our path.

The unutterable slips through and we feel moved and we don't know why. The intention is heart.

Wake up. Rise up. From the deep.

Hallo. Goodbye. Hallo. We are slaves. To a love we cannot handle.

The birthday suit is still a shockwave. The heart of our longing. Unearths and as much as we attempt to speak of it, address it .. it folds away and hides inside the next movement and sheds and births into something new. And when we face it and are there for it... like the Rainbow Warrior – defending the very basics of it.... an elephant in the room like the panel unable to speak directly about the work afterward in an open discussion..

we bomb it and we criticise and wreck and sink it. We sing heartbroken songs in ode to our own loss of it...

We project ourselves onto the openness of it.. the liberation, the ambiguity...

Are we still loveable?

Yes.

That is compassion. It has a great sense of humour, its not all so very serious really... let's move past all that!

Come passion.

Express and search yourself.... deep in the ocean of evolution.

Love me/you.

Rainbow Warrior. Arising in the collective consciousness... let it go. Honour it.

Humanity on the brink of truly embracing itself in its entirety, no more hiding or denial or power trips.

Peace and freedom fighter.

It is a dance which is a speech.

And even in me uttering these lines, it is more.. because it is a feeling only those rooms of people can share and know. The culture of that room on those eves, what is 'mind blowing' to a friend's sociologist friend? I can never know. I don't know what he experienced... but thankyou!!!!!!!!!!!!

They felt what I felt and I will never know what that is.

I can only feel what I feel. But I feel.

I can see reflections of myself all around, in the perspex, in mammoth shadows of my naked body on the wall, in video projections of the live feed through the perspex into the top corner of the room. IN the eyes of the audience member i randomly see. They see themselves in me?

Someone afterwards says its funny, they laughed all the way through, someone else says so heartfelt and beautiful, its more simple, no its very dense, no one got it? describing words. Someone cried. I see shock in their eyes. I am a 'dakini'- female buddhas wild and fiery. I am deconstructing language and communication. Its brilliant.

What am I doing? Loving myself through experimentation and searching ...

A priceless investigation.

I feel exhausted like dying for a week. I don't even know what it is this thing... that's the beauty.

How many people can say they blew someone's mind?

Adrenalin slave.

The slave is the master.

No roles are fixed in this shifting world.... get used to it humans. Bananas.

'I can feel the change'. However few are there, its into the ether.

The solo is never alone. It has friends and support and is not a solo. We deserve love and support and all is exchange.

All is an artifice and yet has some luscious unfathomable truth lurking.

Vulnerability is power and growth and potential.

It keeps you in the moment, no artificial barriers to hide behind. Move me. Arising and sinking and so on....

I'm moving out............. from inside.

I Share.

I dare.

To move further...... toward and away. Ciao.