It is remarkable, I find, how much a space can feed us, and how much we can, in turn, charge a space. In this case, I am referring to the chemical reaction that occurred when a hotel room with bad lighting slowly became wistful, melancholy, and full of memory. I personally became very aware of just how many people had passed through the exact same room, slept there, woke there. I think the boys felt their ghosts.
a frame within a frame within a night.
Another thought occurred to me in editing, and that is this phenomenon: the sudden frustration of losing a motor skill, one generally taken for granted, for no other reason than the fact that someone has just reminded you to do it. I am talking, in this case, about blinking. I have heard recently a theory about blinking that I like very much: that the act of blinking is the method in which we capture and compartmentalize memory. The blink is the shutter for the camera that is your brain. Isn't that great?! I have attempted to give a nod to this in Sly and Wily Ones.
See these flickering lights:
Performers: Alexander Cruz, Alejandro Fonseca, Michael Ehlers
Thanks to: Emilio Ramos for indulging me, and keeping a steady hand when my own started to fail me.
team efforts, brought to you by late night Chinese food.
"Maybe that is because I long for the time when we sat all day in the sun and laughed for a while, then wept while masked actors wailed, and both the humor and the desperation of life were illuminated on one day."
Sarah Ruhl, 100 Essays I Don't Have Time To Write (on Umbrellas and Sword Fights, Parades and Dogs, Fire Alarms, Children, and Theater)