eighth tuesday

from kezza’s comment

The eighth was another threesome but this time it was Micha and Marunta, with Kezza making up the trio and we played with music and voice and dance and thoroughly enjoyed ourselves…….in a kind of quiet way…….

a link for psychohistory

psychohistory

the sixth tuesday

A Report from Kerry

It was a night of Hare Krishna with candles and an ever evolving sculpture, felt like sacred and at times rough theatre. For me what is good is that no matter how tired I am I can put everything aside and drop into the ocean of possibility, never knowing where it may lead, when I slip into the flow I am truly present and every moment like that brings me into greater alignment with the life force, with God/Goddess. I have enjoyed every night so far and most of what we have done has helped me to be in that space of presence, having said that I would not say that everything we’ve done would work in the context of a performance. I think we need to evolve for a bit before thinking of a performance, getting people out in winter is tough anyway, lets think about a date in spring sometime. This is a spiritual and energetic process for me, each night becomes like a different meditation, I want to dive into that before I have to consider the process from the point of view of being witnessed by audience. I am joining an ecstatic dance collective on sunday which meets every two weeks and may find some potential creatives to join Cope 56 there, met some at a dance workshop, some gorgeous people.

a poem by sam

from the first tuesday recited on the 2nd

hey! scruffy cloaked wooden man

peeping out and hiding in…

under a flasher’s coat,

wary and whiley, a little bit wicked…

or is it a womanly figure?

with proud forehead, the cape cloaking her gender?

exposing a double rodded pointing penis…

pointing accusingly and ready to defend,

the rods standing to attention!

like a weapon, a bayonette?

or a tribal gender-less sea-guardian

strong feet, firmly planted

steadying, keeping watch…

still, while the sea

rolls and rumbles by….

clik! go the the arms,

stick out, like traffic signals

which way to the shore?

or how high the sky?

the wooden vassal, keeps

a faithful vigil

maybe over art and life itself,

embodied, embedded?

canvas flaps, tattered but

more precious than a

Rembrandt at the Louvre!

the 2nd tuesday

sticks and poses

and a Sisyphus walk

chocolate bunny musings

in opposing keys

thunder and lightning

five in attendance and one latecomer