NY: Program Notes


New York, July 29th and August 5th 2013
Performed by Catalina Lavalle, Michaela Lind and Jennifer Restak

This iteration of Traces is built upon many of the same essential questions we explored in our performance in March:  the differences between our public and our private selves, the ways in which technology both connects and alienates us, and how an original creative impulse, repeated time and again in rehearsal becomes symbolic of that moment of creative discovery. And in our rehearsals together these past few weeks, we asked:  from where does an impulse originate, internally, or outside of ourselves?  What is the difference between an impulse and a reflex?  And how may an impulse lead us into the creation of a story? 

In tonight’s performance we address these questions in the context of a storyline, a storyline which has grown, about a woman whom we originally called “female subject”: recently separated from her partner, female subject is a woman who is torn from the present moment by memory.  To her, memory has a gravitational pull. Gravity, breath and space are some of the organizing forces around which this piece has developed. The video which now starts the show, of lithium released in outer space, represents the cynosure of many of our ideas:  a natural element, it is used to treat bipolar disorder, an illness some of our loved ones have struggled with and the one this woman’s partner is attempting to manage. Released from rockets, lithium serves as a catalyst for seeing, illuminating phenomenon in outer space not observable by the naked eye. In the video itself, traces of lithium flash brightly and hauntingly across the atmosphere, inspiring many of our movements.  While one of us more consistently embodies the role of “female subject” in this performance, we are, together, traces of many forms of physical phenomena, illustrating the traces of this girl’s memory in a visceral, poetic form.

"all you touch and all you see,
are all your life will ever be."
-Pink Floyd, Dark Side of the Moon

Go outside of you.
Look at yourself walking down the street.
Make yourself tumble on a stone and fall.
Watch it.
Watch other people looking.
Observe carefully how you fall. How long it takes and in what rhythm you fall.  Observe as seeing a slow-motion film.”

Yoko Ono, “Falling Piece”

And Thank You!

Our thank-you’s are many, as we have found ourselves supported at every turn by amazing friends old and new: Lisa Markuson, our subsidiary co-producer, thank you for pulling together our sneak preview and silent auction with dash and style and for your continued artistic and publicity support; to Lani Ho├áng for ascending a steep learning curve and bravely womaning our light board, Michael Schreiber, thanks for coming along just in time to run video and sound and lend further meaning to this show inspired by memories, and to Cameron  Gagne for stepping into his shoes tonight; to Orietta Crispino of Theaterlab for enabling us to share our work in her space; to John J. Hanlon for providing the voice and the character of female subject’s estranged male partner; thank you to all of our silent auction donors:  Gobsmacked! Productions, LLC, The Quality Mending Co., Get Up and Ride!, Rodney Ramos, Conor Klein, Quincy Ellis and Lauren Visceglia.  To Steve Kramer for hosting our post-preview party, Lou Gordon for circulating our preview announcement to the members of BALCONY, and to our many friends in DC who have supported us--some of whom are here tonight:  Micah Greenberg, Joseph A. Mills, III, and Mundy Spears. To Amanda Alef, for her limitless contribution to the creation of the show in DC. And to Montgomery Harkness, for sharing his toys.

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