Peach Pie

Here I'm at Union Theological Seminary's James Chapel, where I've been rehearsing for a performance.

I'm trying to be attractive to my surroundings by cultivating a state of unconsious -- by not really paying attention to the actions I'm performing. My mind ruminates, my body meanders. These unthinking rhythms draw the curiosity of the forces of nature around me; they know they can catch me. Then, when they've got me, the available space and effort opens up dramatically: there's a sweep -- a bottomless well -- a topless fountain -- of effortless effort. But this whole scenario is a tricky place to get into, and stay in; I can't think myself there. I attempt to sneak up on it from the side, or, as Martha Myers says in choreography workshops, "knock on the back door with a peach pie." Pie-making, knocking, opening, dancing: all require serious study with playful intention.