A Hole in Time 18 days July 2015 PWNW
A Hole in Time 18 days July 2015 Performance Works Northwest Portland, Oregon
Day one ‘As if I myself should be left behind’ LG
compass I am on my knees facing north I walk every straight line walk our whole road trip ‘A loss of ground beneath one’s feet means no landmarks or horizons.’ LG
I have just walked my memories into myself ‘there is ‘beautiful’ and there is poetical: one you admire, the other moves you. LG
I could change that around... a ladder five steps chin fits, eyes through slats it is my size five rungs of enlightenment on the top joist is a shape-map of Iceland the ladder is so like me can I try and dig a hole from it?
Day two
Day three
‘What is moves, and what is moving is.’ ‘We cling to these contradictions.’ ‘We know we will become our contradictions.’
‘…Every wonderful sight will vanish, every sweet word will fade, but do not be disheartened’…
LG
compass I know north today all I want is south a tiny stigmata in the centre of my right palm brings me close to tears ‘You do not belong here and it is not where you are going’ LG
walk through the tear veil of this desert why tear myself away – to make the roots stronger? to make nothing to find a way back to feeling accumulation of a room, one object at a time – a ladder, a hook
RUMI, EVERYTHING YOU SEE
into a cloud of unknowing walk wayward walking to rid myself of loyalty to sea myself ‘The impossibility of the journey. It cannot begin, it is over already, you are over already.’ LG
Bach Violin Concerto in D Minor for 2 violins BWV 1043 seven lights right arm palm away window shine palm down spread sideways, open fingers towards the end bursting lightbulb, reverses hand to heart, turned fist, draw in, drop eyes closed reach forward, point of ignition make open nest, look through, prayer down the body search for seventh light, could not find the toughest challenge is to go into the studio with nothing and make nothing
PRAPTO ( JAVANESE TEACHER)
In these three days of walking I hear his last instruction to me, as one gets so few translatable words from him it matters ‘trust your feet’ or ‘trust into your feet’ or ‘let your feet be the ground’ so its a step forward!
accumulation of a room, one object a day- a ladder, a hook, a low cramped space north has shifted a bit I take away response, stand and close in till little things tidy up in me I have done as the Rumi poem predicted ‘…Every wonderful sight will vanish, every sweet word will fade but do not be disheartened…’ RUMI I know what comes later, one will find a wellspring – but not today. I let my body fall into the void surges of energy greet me complete surprise
Day four begin walking LAND – interruption – electrician – insider – real hot ticket-steal copper-bolt it down-fence-be invisible begin again Begin again… Say goodbye to everything. With a wave of hand, gesture to all you have known… Take the polished stillness from a locked church, prayer notes left between stones… Make the least daily wage your value… Language will rise then like language from the mouth of a still river. Bring night to your imaginings…
PART OF PRAYER CAROLYN FORCHE
no new language held in this empty church empty but for light accumulation of a room – a ladder, a hook, a low cramped space, the only old door handle ‘You realise you want to be forgotten.’ LG
aware that I have no interest in talking about myself or what I do ‘ship float upon the ocean like a body if its broken’ ‘Already knowing what cannot be shared with those left at home.’ LG
work under and about my heart like the banging of boats on water a sonar monitoring, no air or surface involved
Day five
next to the ladder sift memories and find places to hold on to to weight the unanchored self
sudden being here compass north is to east home open the wrong closed door
Are we capable of being born afresh unencumbered by memory?
Can one really make a mistake, aren’t they all learnings?
I need to go flatlining out of my own story.
start with walk Bach Violin Concerto in D Minor for 2 violins BWV 1043 A Few Words on the Soul …For every thousand conversations it participates in one, if even that, since it prefers silence. Just when our body goes from ache to pain, it slips off duty.
WISLAWA SZYMBORSKA
accumulation of room-a ladder, a hook, a low cramped space, the only old door handle, a wooden projector shelf ‘An eye for comic detail for what is good to relate’ LG
Two face-painted clowns singing about how great Portland is to children in a coffee shop. Russian Cake factory sign, its style a copy of the old ‘You know even as they are happening you will send these stories home’ LG
William Morris will? but I will – after the wide open traveling experience of the random changing road something weary in me ‘You are surprised to find yourself useless – you do not know how to use these locks or turn these taps and you have to wait till someone gives you money, for the weather to be right.’ LG
The unfamiliar necessities of life How to live in a caravan. Even finding light switches and working the keys – sometimes there is someone to ask, sometimes not. ‘You scramble, not quite secure. You watch people who know what to do’. LG
‘You climb the hill so you can see you have a place to go home to.’ LG
Already the caravan is my home away from home, the studio my struggle place I make homes incessantly to feel at home, to pitch landmarks in an unfamiliar life a footless journey-so far its all about my feet on the ground (a day off)
Day six place compass with eyes closed, north I start weary ‘…condenses most forcibly in the lightness of my foot and its five toes. The foot skims the earth which gives way like compressed air. An elastic duo of the earth and of the foot.
ANNA SWIR, MY BODY EFFERVESCES
The foot drags the earth -which gives way like loose earth a solid duo of the earth and of the foot foot against the floor is proverbial bed of nails rips, cuts, dryness make every step a towering lesson in moving through pain this practice so far has been walking! is there humour? accumulation of room-a ladder, a hook, a cramped low space, the only old door handle, a wooden projector shelf, 5 bar chairs in a row contradictions reach out, change or hold ‘Among the emptiness you pitch camp in yourself’ LG
How much I am not wanting to pitch camp in myself! action, response, connection, humility, graciousness
BARBARA DILLEY
in the pool of the studio I rebel contradict stay with it, in
Day seven
it is only empty because its not my life but actually for seven weeks it is my life
compass is upside down forwards above over over around around
fill this time with structures, practices, rituals, all possibly purposeless
a Journey walked and walked, saw the flowers, waited for tears
‘So we rode down the shaky hillsides, I with my heart in my mouth the while, for they were as steep as the side of a house…” WM
Yesterday I took the trail to the river, a zig zag cling to a near vertical forest my world could be what travels with me my world is elsewhere the travel seems inside or not even inside in the studio I am leashed inward exploration I have not done it yet
A Journey …He enjoyed the bright spring morning… and walking down the street… he recited the alphabet to keep hold. …and willed his eyes to follow the rational weavings of the seat fabric. tears finally rolled down my still cheek engrain this piece of Bach …A ‘place in him that had been closed like a fist was open’… EDWARD FIELD ‘We travel to escape whatever is ordinary for us’ LG
but thats just it, I don’t want to escape, I want to embrace it more.
‘The landscape that is neither here nor there jars’ LG
‘Travel is a gentle form of that which comes from sick or loss.’ LG
‘You become aware of your ordinary level of fear and how it might extinguish curiosity.’ LG
yes, I am having a surfeit of timidity –
To have no boundaries can bring small results and less creativity wander, resusitate, explore, experience move in to greet all find layers in what is still just a surface accumulation of studio-a ladder, a hook, a cramped low space, the only old door handle, a wooden projector shelf, 5 bar chairs in a row, a garden cushion meditation on ankle pain ‘The faculty of voluntarily bringing back a wandering attention, over and over again is the very root of judgment, character and will.’
WILLIAM JAMES
Day eight speed …Their breaths together feed someone whom we do not know. …Someone we know of, whom we have never seen. …Age may come; parting may come; death will come!
FROM BELIEVING BODY AND SOUL, ROBERT BLY
If you push yourself too hard you cause wildness of mind. If you hold your mind too loosely you create drowsiness and depression. Gentleness based on a balance of taut and loose creates equilibrium.
CHOGYAM TRUNGPA RINPOCHE
compass placed without looking is dead on north accumulation of studio-a ladder, a hook, a low cramped space, the only old door handle, a wooden projector shelf, 5 bar chairs in a row, a garden cushion, 4 holes and a 5th in the ceiling ‘If you have something on which to stand life is quite without danger’. LG
the upholder upholding gracefully stumbling from one language to another on billowing thick air like the catch of braiding when it finds its weave and goes to
Day nine
Day ten
NW is north
I go forward barefoot north is north and true north compass holds all the norths
5 eye practices Closed eyes internal seeing;rest; refresh Peripheral seeing: soft focus; seeing from the corners of the eyes Infant eyes: seeing before naming Looking between things: the space between; negative space Direct looking: investigate; study; absorb.
BARBARA DILLEY
good to have these explained so simply, practice and remember When you begin to be still hundreds of thousands, millions and billions of thoughts will go through your mind. But thoughts pass and only the worthy ones leave their fish eggs behind. We have to leave ourselves sometime to be.
CHOGYAM TRUNGPA RINPOCHE
‘You are not the first visitor and you are one of many LG
‘The journey is starting to feel uncomfy’ LG
accumulation of studio-a ladder, a hook, a low cramped space, the only old door handle, a wooden projector shell, 5 bar chairs in a row, a garden cushion, 4 holes and 5th in the ceiling, a stone
accumulation of studio… line between wall and covering out of order day What music do you cry to? What music makes you cry? Why? Why do you want to cry? To avoid deep feeling its a comfort to find parameters, soft edges to hold you. I want feelings back. This music brings tears, the combination of notes and structures propel me to tears even if it is nothing more than a practice Practices That’s what I’ve been trying to do here-my rebellion to that word is strange and childish It’s what you do to prepare – often one stays in the preparing which may be good for me right now I am allowing it to be my stumbling block and digging unproductive holes seems as good a practice as any so I am practicing tears, directions, hours of slow walking, accumulating objects in the space, inhabiting a poem each day, the William Morris book ‘Travels in Iceland’ annotated by Lavinia Greenlaw and added to by me, the practices grow Am I living on top, around the edges, deep inside, shuffling by, skipping over, pretending, trying out, remembering, slipping off the past, giving a good look or a wondering why
I am going into a hole you have to trust I am an artist and I have to trust I am one too so the rigour of the structures are with me knowing what I don’t want can be easier to understand When traveling to my ‘place’ in Iceland, I float into solitude and reflection with ease, the beauty, weather, water, view, correspond to my needs. Here it is hard, here I am confronted by a studio – in which things are made and performed, its not for any other use. Don’t worry I knew this would be hard, it was foretold. I am fine just jangley. Last night I did a late walk and looked at the clouds and felt homed for the first time. ‘The astounding nature of the road’. LG
‘The faraway clear.’ ‘Your sense of place receded.’ The moment with the cloud it did not matter which place I was in. ‘You want to leave a mark’. LG
Do I? – I’m not sure – its my hole in time ‘The unreadable label’ LG
compass, bow, meditations, directions, poem, feet walking, standing, exercises, music warm up, Bach move & feel, travel writing, object finding
(A DAY OFF)
Day eleven This vast hole of jumping into an unknown way of life where all is or could be experienced anew. Where I can deliciously flounder in my own mini adventures, put myself at the world again. Leave god(s) for god
JOSEPH CAMPBELL
(sitting on edge of cabin in woods above the sandy river) animate stillness from this slide of downward land through trees that climb decorously vertical I see the low place of the river only the subtlest leaf meander and a gentle tree touch alivates the forest unearths a rush of moss memories a shadow of a bird skits over the under treetop world a single white feather-seed crosses the bowl of the sky my eyes stumble on tear pricks
Day twelve
Stykkisholmur, Iceland William Morris had 2 days there! I am astounded and thrilled though we have different things to remember.
compass north is east heatwave hit the compass, it turns a half circle to west north
We both have been to Helgafell (Holyhill) which I first visited in the snow with R
phrase 1. legless chair 2. veiled chair 3. see-through chair 4. 1 walking chair 5. chair to make one taller 6. stool 7. walking chairs Sometimes a Man RILKE
A poem about eternal searching and yearning Is it oneself or the next generation Its all about standing up or staying sitting chair day! accumulation of studio-ladder, hook, low cramped space, the only old door handle, a wooden projector shelf, 5 bar chairs in a row, a garden cushion, 4 holes and a 5th in the ceiling, a stone, the edge between wall and blind, a step to make one taller ‘A song for when you don’t know the way.‘ LG
so far I have sung – the 7 chord progression from Autumn in Cycle, Are you going to Scarborough Fair, the alphabet song, count singing to 100, Find the coast of freedom buried in the ground
‘You are used now to being out of place’ LG
as I get ready to go to California is the practice about joining body and mind being ‘one’ but not being ‘one’ being the two as one
Day thirteen southeast sussex… Were I able to shut my eyes, ears, legs, hands and walk into myself for a thousand years, perhaps I would reach – I do not know its namewhat matters most
ANNA SWIR
eyes closed, crawl to find my hand on this book, pen, compass but when I walked in, sung myself in, clockwise, for as long as I could, to a place of stopping ,I found what was deepest inside was what was outside, like a piece of invisible glass, between in and out, and in was what was out I tried to find a kernel, a centre place but it was not there
‘Holding one’s mind taut and loose at the same time’
BARBARA DILLEY
‘the lack of things was plenteous’ LG
‘If you were to question the road, you will question everything’ LG
(is this what is expected?) ‘how far is far?’ LG
accumulation… a volcano and 4 spots on the wall the mail dropped through the studio door, from my Dad ‘On first seeing Iceland’ William Morris, a handmade book Woodcraft Press 1992 it is wonderful and I ache for the time when my dad will no longer do these things for me, that gracious giving, how much I will lose
it was a long journey of chanting, walking, eyes closed, just keeping on going you can’t really get there can you? one day’s walking to the centre of oneself! What a task – Oh I did make myself sick as the circle became very small! back to structures straight lines first then swinging to any direction loss touched me, fighting loss touched me chair phrase without chairs felt my way ended with pain in my body but without rancour, just part of the whole of me tears came and went like a wash the structures have changed orders
(A WEEK AWAY)
Day fourteen compass faces south where I was for the week it is so far from here I have walked the history of my time away into my body a new diary of memory walked in It starts, ‘To pray’ you open your whole self To sky, to earth, to sun, to moon To one whole voice that is you And know there is more. That you can’t see, can’t hear Cant know except in moments Steadily growing and in languages That aren’t always sound but other Circles of motion.
JOY HARJO
approaching empty space structures transference of the rational, achieving to the spiritual, mixing both the opening two lines is what this strange studio time is about – to leave some things behind – to understand why I choose some things not others to reintegrate whats been sideways knowing where I need to travel why a stream so subtle opens more what becomes precious sinking in back to ‘Questions of Travel’ It so happens. How does it happen. falling out and falling about. And out of it all, a way on. LG
yes, I fell out for six days where it was weatherable I fell out and my falling about was wonder full transparent greek goddess facing the cactus, the hollow tree and deep sky alertly still, waiting for the music For those who are visually minded I will say there seems to be a fine ship at anchor. fear is the anchor, convention is the chain, ghosts stalk the decks, the sails are filled with pride and the ship does not move. But there are moment for all of us in which the anchor is weighed. Moments in which we learn what it feels like to move freely, not held back by pride and fear. Moments that can be recalled with all their fine flavour.
AGNES MARTIN
I wanted to go home but I was not quite ready ‘To take leave in a pretty place’ LG My son in the garden of Mercy I wanted, I thought, only a little two teaspoons of silence – no I wanted a Cairo of silence a Kyoto In every hanging garden mosses and water
The directions of silence north,west, south, past, future…
JANE HIRSHFIELD
accumulation – a ladder, a hook, a low cramped space, the only old door handle, a wooden projector shelf, 5 bar stools in a row, a garden cushion, 4 holes in the ceiling , a stone, the edge of the blind and the wall, a step to make you taller, a volcano and 4 spots on the wall, the other stone ‘The practice is about attention to the structure and openness to the moment.’
Day fifteen
BARBARA DILLEY
compass down north, habit and my direction A certain day became a presence to me there it was confronting me-a sky, air, light a being… VARIATION ON A THEME BY RILKE / DENISE LEVERTOV a pool of light, window reflects disappears as I walk in a pool of light, window opens gathers my legs the floor has depth from across the room as I step in, it flattens I am looking for a being hidden in this old worship church lines on the back wall trace wings ladder scrapes lead upward short bell struck a crawling journey over space to the line wall upside sideways Given time does one squander it? Does more creativity make more? Is the practice of always making extending one, honing one? keep knocking the compass but it stays north Am I stalled on purpose? score – lying, sitting, crawling, standing, still It seems strange to me now that this is a life, time in a studio with a body following scores. Where and when did I shuffle off such a practice – did I ever really have it?
accumulation – a ladder, a hook, a low cramped space, the only old door handle, a wooden projector shelf, 5 bar chairs in a row, a garden cushion, 4 holes in the ceiling and a 5th, the edge between the wall and blind, the stone, step to make one taller, a volcano and 4 spots on the wall, the other stone, bubbly glass pane- lowest left, middle panel, entry door wall… pushed compass again, again stays north ‘Is talk of home a way to get yourself to go on? Or what slows you down? Going on will from now be going back. You don’t want to go back. LG (Oh yes I do but I have not done enough work!) For once you are heading towards things you know LG CA
‘the view moves into place: sinking, drawing in, running away. Wonder- an emptying out, a black and white response. …that thin thread of insight and imagination’ LG I love this line as it wavers and offers a moulding moment between worlds strange feeling of a thin veil, of others, visitors Today I think I have not done the ’structures’, time has passed and nothing transpired. I could be wrong. Breath is the object of meditation.
CHOGYAM TRUNGPA RINPOCHE
I thought I had lost the box for the compass – it mattered-to complete the ritual, empty or full
Day sixteen eyes closed place compass dead on north and true north ‘God left us: I felt this clearly.’
JAAN KAPLINSKI, SUMMERS AND SPRINGS
a low slow crawl towards the angel lines wall find harsh barrier ‘a child’ go towards half point tight rope fingers touch and meld a welcome tears into wall a slow turning wander out into space ‘…Then suddenly I imagined a child’s face there on the other side, in eternity looking here into time, regarding wide eyed our comings, goings and doings in this time -aquarium….’ JAAN KAPLINSKI the wall is the west Space is solid stories
CHOGYAM TRUNGPA RINPOCHE
This is also the real secret of the arts; always be a beginner Suzuki Roshi zen mind, beginners mind
WILLIAM MORRIS ‘TRAVELS IN ICELAND’
As we ride along (over the lava now) we come opposite to a flat-topped hill some way down the lava stream, and just below it opens a huge black chasm, that runs straight away south toward the lake, a great double-walled dyke, but with its walls tumbled and ruined a good deal in places: the hill is Hrafnaborg (raven burg) and the chasm Hrafnagja (raven
Rift.) But as we turn west we can see, a long way off across the grey plain, a straight black line running from the foot of the Armannsfell right into the lake, which we can see again hence, and some way up from the lake a white line cuts the black line one across. The black and white line are the Almannagja (Great Rift) and the Oxara (Axe water) tumbling over it. Once again that thin line of insight and imagination, which comes so seldom to us, and is such a joy when it comes, did not fail me at this first sight of the greatest marvel and most storied place of Iceland. black/white line /water shift/divide X marks the spot the cross the crossing that thin thread of insight /imagination Onto another wave LG The fluidity of strangeness LG A delivery man walks straight in, puts down a box, makes me sign. The image on the box is the curves from the wall. He did not think it weird, but it was. ‘You are another wave’ LG A raven’s heart crying out and croaking WM ‘The heart. Needing to feel you have got to the heart of a place, if not the matter’ LG
accumulation – a ladder, a hook, a low cramped space, the only old door handle, a wooden projector shelf, 5 bar chairs in a row, a garden cushion,the edge between the blind and the wall, the stone, step to make one taller, a volcano and 4 spots on the wall,the other stone, bubbly glass pane lowest left middle panel entry door wall, velvet curtains This is an empty place (and I am fluid in it) I have made an empty space
Day seventeen upside down south is north ‘…What prayer are they whispering? Each one has left a mark, the perfect pattern of a need, sole and heel and toe… …so many shuffling hopes …What are they whispering? …like a thousand prayers washing against the walls of God.’
IMTIAZ DHARKER
I walked a slow walk first all the people I had seen today a foot prayer to each then my family, friends a heel sole toe for each a solemn soft link imprinting care fresh steps touch steps thought steps a foot caress lingering fulfilling deepening edging in discovering floor and foot so feet earth root and compound then slowly release reverse away slow journey of the sole! footmarking another way to walk things in and this is walking things out, a way to integrate body and gift
gently dancing found my accumulation-a carabiner from above The Heart. LG the centre through the needle my heart is in people I have walked into the earth from deep in my heart It is the heart of Iceland William Morris sees and describes, a place chosen with poetic insight. visited St Johns Bridge again ribboned with activists hanging from its ribs striking their call against the icebreakers of shell walking that bridge two weeks ago was the most unknowing I have felt here unaware today I found my ‘heart’ practice – tiny jewel stay with me ‘Needing to feel you have got to the heart of a place if not the matter.’ LG no, not the heart of the place, but maybe a touch into the matter. Towards the end, you are careless about the means of return LG
Do you want to stop going back? LG The daily living situation becomes the teachings: it becomes a constant learning/leaving process.
CHOGYAM TRUNGPARINPOCHE
Day eighteen compass placed at north, true north just east In all ten directions of the universe there is only one truth. When we see clearly, the great teachings are the same. What can ever be lost? What can be attained? If we attain something, it was there from the beginning of time. If we lose something, it is hiding somewhere near us. Look: this ball in my pocket: can you see how priceless it is?
RYOKAN, 1758-1831, ZEN MASTER CALLIGRAPHER POET MONK
so hot today its hard to breath Bach dance the descent of the chair, closed eyes, easy tears the greeting wall cradles me then roll all the way across float feel sick and the surprise – I thought it was the end and then the coda Kodey walked in, a young Korean, hair to waist, who had booked the time so on the last day all comes adrift it was the ball bouncing away... you set the structure then its gone accumulation- during the dance I had seen the imprint of a left hand high up on a white wall I asked Kodey, my unknown trespasser, to photograph talked of the power of a discipline maybe a word for a practice
picked up all my undone structures and came straight to the caravan putting away the compass when I was not finished was hard, in fact it has not fitted into its box‌ See. go. Inhabit. Give away. Let Go.
BARBARA DILLEY
You are within reach, what news of home? LG Neither staying nor going LG What are you taking and what are you leaving behind LG I shut the box that holds the compass.
Bibliography Questions Of Travel William Morris In Iceland (from A Journal of Travel in Iceland ,1871) Lavinia Greenlaw Notting Hill Editions 2011 Soul Food Edited by Neil Astley & Pamela Robertson-Pearce Bloodaxe 2007 This Very Moment teaching, thinking, dancing Babara Dilley Naropa University Press 2015 LG: Lavinia Greenlaw WM: William Morris
A Hole in Time 18 days July 2015 PWNW Portland, Oregon CLARE WHISTLER, AUGUST 2015 PERFORMANCE WORKS NORTHWEST WITH MANY THANKS TO LINDA AUSTIN FOR THE RESIDENCY THIS WRITING IS PART OF ‘A HOLE IN TIME’ A COLLABORATION WITH JEN MITAS WWW.CLAREWHISTLER.CO.UK