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Life in the Empire

Been writing cover letters for job applications (two submitted yesterday). More of a movement artist than a wordsmith but, to get things started, here is something I wrote for Migrant, my section in Train.

Where is home?

Moved twelve times in the last 16 years. The transient in transit. Pierce Transit runs through it. Before I came here I was in Rush Limbaugh’s home town before I was surrounded by corn fed Norwegian bred Lutherans singing praise in perfect four part harmony to that Home on the Plain before I’m taken Home – Praise Jesus. I grew up in Iowa, Little Town on the Prairie an island afloat in the ocean of corn. Lived in SoCal, in the Desert where golf and plastic surgery reigns, might have the grit to stay in rainy Tacoma, but, I always say I’m from San Francisco - though I rarely visit anymore.

Home, where is home?

Home is where you are. Correction, home is where you and the two cats are.

What is home? That safe place. That place with love. I love that old car, it always brought me home. The ’75 Westphalia could be home. Or rather, the place that used to be home. Too old, too unreliable to be trusted anymore. Baling wire and duct tape. Just like the U-Haul I drive to the next place, hoping for home.

Searching for home. Migrants with heavy furniture. U-haul. Our orange travois with wheels keeps getting bigger. Full of stuff. Heavy Stuff. Stuff that anchors us. To a home of nostalgia. Anchors to a home that never really existed. That place. This is the place! Well bully for you Brigham Young. Bring ‘em young. Not young anymore, with more stuff each move to stuff in the moving van and every move leaves behind anchors that are mourned in passing.

A house burns down and the anchors are cremated and the past has passed on.

The bubble is burst. The house is on the market. The anchor is weighed. The trees we planted are left behind. Do the new owners love that Japanese Maple we planted as our 10th anniversary gift to our dream of home? Have they maintained the landscaping? Have any of the plants, the dreams, the love we planted been cared for in our absence? Or have they been torn up by the roots to make room for the next owners’ dream of home?

Where are the anchors? Is there a home port? Adrift. Without a home. Drift wood is picked up for beach fires to warm the beach rats without a home. Their shacks have been bulldozed like West Bank ancestral olive groves to make room for more condos and home-loving dreamers blowing a bubble. Pop!

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There were several ex-pats that we met there.  We got an invitation/encouraged to move there by more than a few locals.  Unfortunately, it didn't "pencil out" 'cuz we would be there in a heartbeat if it did.

 

I understand having a thing for Italian women - I married two with ancestors from Italia.


pan- Is Ms. Medusa any relation to Giuseppe Garibaldi? Know ye probably wrote about it some time back... but now Idon't remember any Italian girls... mostly British/ Irish/ German... but bald-tire memory in ol bald head aint wot it used to be. Frau waldo is the Moon of my Life (anybody following Game of Thrones?) and has out-shined them all!

She has not aged a day in the past 25 years!  

 

 

Every town has at least one Piazza Garibaldi.    The video we shot of the singers in traditional garb was at a party celebrating Garibaldi's efforts to create a republic.  She's named after her great-great grandfather Joseph Garibaldi - don't know the genealogy beyond that as to whether Joseph was related to Giussepe.
"Frau waldo is the Moon of my Life (anybody following Game of Thrones?) and has out-shined them all!

She has not aged a day in the past 25 years! "

I haven't seen the show, but i have read the books.

Oh, and by the way, what a sweet thing to say about Mrs. Waldo.

A friend of mine is a brilliant composer and is trying to raise $5,000 to fund the premiere of his next work

Video of a performance/installation we did in Assisi.  40 minutes long and meditative.  Not recommended if you can't take the time to relax with it.  I find that I start getting impatient about  5- 8 minutes into it and then I accept the pacing and let the images engulf me.

 

From the TED series - I quite enjoy this one as it takes a swipe at Powerpoint presentations while being supportive of dance

Holiday cheer from Callous Physical Theatre - our antidote to the Nutcracker

Grudge Match (excerpts)

Grudge Match: ReMatch (complete)

The Rule of Life, 2011.  reflections on St. Francis and St. Clare and the tourist industry in Assisi

XY, performed on a 5'X5' stage.  I'm the last soloist.  Did this after my second hip surgery - still a little unsteady but much improved over the arthritic hips.

Not Yet Become.  The title comes from Ernst Bloch's writings about art as an attempt to reveal the utopian "not yet become".

virtually At this moment In real time.  Inspired by Warner Bros. cartoons

Two women's pieces by Ms. Medusa

Forbidden Fruit

Shaking the Yoke

Have just watched The Rule of Life, it has me in tears.

 Mouse,

   Good to read you, Happy Holiday

 

 

Two of our more overtly Marxian works:

Landscaping for Privacy.  

We did this just prior to the invasion of Iraq.  Inspired by W.S. Burroughs' dystopian vision of suburban American in the grips of Cold War fears.

Zaum: Beyond Significance.

 Inspired by the Zaum poetsCubo-FuturistsConstructivist and Suprematist art movements in post-revolution Russia.

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