on the edge of the chair
As if the soft cushion can support his current equilibrium
As if the soft cushion can break his fall
Reaches for a cup of tea
but can’t just reach
Has to feel around
-smooth laminex-gritty crust crumbs-flimsy paper plate- thin plastic cup (oops)
Tackle plastic cup
loses the fight with the cup.
wn the front of his shirt
Not that he would know
what colour his shirt was today anyway
Chest, however, is still warm and dry.
Katrina must have put a napkin there
Recognise Katrina’s gait tha-thump
Reach – soft, light and feathery but slippery, her hair slides through fingers
Feel higher- rough felt and itchy prickly balls, perhaps pompoms. Felt is jaggered, inconsistent, like a tree branch. One conclusion. Christmas Antlers.
Hand is quicklybroughttoface
Vanilla. Cinnamon. Nutmeg. Custard Tart. Honey.
This is Katrina.
voice pauses awkwardly.
vibrato held for too long.
No, This Elvis is Not Real. Earlier, Elvis talked. Said my name. Definitely not the real Elvis.
Crying in the Chapel?
If it weren’t for the antlers,
Wouldn’t have known it was Christmas
balanced on the edge of gravity
teeters on the last hope of equilibrium
perches on the stinging, scalding metal of the see-saw
Clings to the rubber of the handle-bar for relief
but not far. Springs back up again.
Inertia pulls neck down, while violently lifting his body to the heavens.
Strong thighs leap off, into the sand pit.
Grit in shoes. Grit in undies. Grit in hair. Grit in eyes.
Rub eyes, inflamed.
Open. To a Caribbean Blue sky
So cloudless you could see Saturn
If you tried.
Drink in the wholesome blue of the sky.
Dazed by a bright red tartan picnic rug
Small boy with lime-green overalls. Overalls that have obviously seen a thousand and one paint balls.
Small boy has artistic skills.
Small boy has balance and courage. Those monkey bars have humiliated and defeated many a brave warrior.
Boy drops, hearing the barely audible call of his mother by the red tartan rug.
sprint towards the boy,
Size 4, mud-stained volleys fly up in a flurry of giggles. Hazel eyes stare and twinkle with mirth.
Pause the live combat,
Nose to the air.
Woody, incensed, sharp and fragrant.
‘Tis the season to be back-burning.
Meaty, salty, sharp and fragrant.
‘Tis the season for family BBQ’s on a public griddle. (Entrust the hygiene of the entire extended family to a squirt of lemon juice on the hotplate before the feast).
This. This is Christmas.
As part of Dance Bites 2012, Framed is a contemporary dance piece of the highest level with performers Tess de Quincey and Victoria Hunt privileging the audience with their ability to capture the essence to raw emotions. Two women are literally framed at the intersection of visual art, theatre, dance and installation. Their fusion of Japanese BodyWeather influences and Indian Natsayastra take the audience on an abstract and spiritual journey through a series of eight emotional states, depending on the audience to draw heavily on their personal introspection for meaning. The scenic space is very thoughtful stagecraft as the performers make use of a blank stage and a single frame to tell a narrative of what it means to be human through relationships and feelings. This stagecraft allows a focal point, not only demanding a spotlight on the actors, but also a spotlight on the audience, especially as each emotional state is ever so slowly released, thus causing the spectator to look within themselves and compare this visual treatise to their own life experiences.
Due to the ambiguous nature of this performance, it can indeed be said that there can be no one meaning produced and taken by the spectators; this performance is extremely unique, even eclectic in its attempt to portray raw emotions. A post-performance Q&A may reveal the motives behind many of the choices, perhaps aid in collecting one’s thoughts, as through a general discussion, audience members contribute their responses. While the lady beside me felt there was a romantic narrative at play, the combination of sound effects, tempo of movement and gesture, as well as focus on a multiplicity of fragmented emotions, meant that I understood the performance to be a compilation of snapshots, documenting a life. However, the ambiguity of the performance leaves the answer is for you to decide. Don’t miss this show at the Riverside Theatre from the 8th-11th of August.
Click here for more details:http://www.riversideparramatta.com.au/performance.asp?pID=1789