Tough LOVE in the Gravel

Creative co11aboration is one of my favorite and most beloved activities. My entire being feels stimulated, nourished and enlivened when a juicy artful exchange is happening! It is a form of lovemaking that I will allow time for whenever I can, especially with other artists who I admire. Photographer Rex Hohlbein is one of those special co-creators that I feel very lucky to have met and grateful to work with for the past year. Even with a super full work schedule, he will drop it for a creative "date" when I have time to come over to Seattle. Sometimes we have a plan of where to go, others not.

This time, since our MomoButoh "theme" for February is Love & Family; I said I was "looking for LOVE" and places that would inspire it in the dance and imagery. He said he had a place that really excited him in mind. Since he was pressed for time and it was only a block from the office, we should check it out. Turns out this "special place" is an industrial site for storing and distributing gravel, asphalt and other products of what I tend to call "earth rape." When we arrived a HUGE truck was sounding an alarm as it dumped the stuff into a holding area; creating a great dust cloud as another machine pounded bits of stone into submission. I stood in a daze, pained at the sensual assault of it all. Hmmm? I just was not feeling much very "in the mood."

Suddenly he realized he had forgotten his photo memory card and had to run back for it. As he was gone I has some time to contemplate and let the dust settle. The rare February sun was beaming down and my initial resistance melted a bit at that. Then I was reminded of my teacher Yoshito Ohno's lessons about soft and hard....the intercourse between those two can be a beautiful dance where life itself is created. I was thinking of the essences of butoh practice that were so essential. I remembered a dance of the flower growing through the crack in the cement. Phrases I had heard so often in the "butoh world" like: "places in between," "the revolt of the flesh," and "a body at the edge of crisis" flowed through my head....I was beginning to feel my love for the EDGE rekindle and smolder a bit. I wanted to challenge myself by exploring how to hold my heart open and keep love alive even in the most seemingly brutal of situations. I wanted to explore BOTH the dark & light sides of love.

Rex came rushing back and I had removed a bunch of clothing and put on a shirt to shroud my head. I realized I needed a Significant Other, a softer little sign of life to hold as a companion in this dance. I really wanted a flower but the closest thing we could find was a sprig of foliage from the landscaping and we began to dance. I lost myself in the experience of dancing at the foot of the gravel mountain until Rex asked if we could head over to the black shadowy cement pit of asphalt. There among the sticky black goo (I could not do it without shoes) noxious fumes and cold shadows; I danced with as much loving as I could muster; often loosing motivation as he cheered me on with "this is SO beautiful"-but I could not see it.

After we were done I was anxious to see the pics because I was so curious what they would reveal. Rex said he was very busy so it could be a while before he could get to it. Later that night I was perusing Facebook and there they were! I was stunned. It is funny how, even though I do SO MUCH public sharing of my image, and I know perfectly well how fast digital information can move from here to there; I still can feel shy and protective about revealing it. Perhaps I had opened up something vulnerable and intimate in that gravel. When this was revealed before I felt "control," my ego had a knee jerk reaction and I wrote a somewhat upset note to Rex about being sure to show me first. Then he was a bit shocked by my concern but also understanding and kindly deleted the pics and sent copies to me to share in my own timing. Now I see how silly this is in a way....and how essential too. A true love lesson, as are so many lessons in life....and these would not be possible without my collaborative "family" of fellow artists. I feel so grateful for you!

Thank you. Please Forgive Me. I'm Sorry. I Love You.

I love these photos really. I love the shadows, the contrasts, the range of emotions evoked. I love Rex. I love collaborating. I love the sun. I love the earth. I love all living beings. I love my job.

I want to know what YOU see in these images.

Tent City: Dancing on Edge

Tent City Residents rest & read in rain.

Main Security Gard Cynthia on duty and in her tent "Cyn's Den"

Craig & Sandy Mitchell's happy "Personal" tent.

Seattle poet AK Mimi Allin became a "self-designated" artist in residence at Tent City last November. See her excellent blog about it here: http://tiny.cc/xeyl6). From what I gathered, she committed to live and work for 2-3 months at Tent City's current location in Lake City area. I was very interested to connect with her, find out more about the experience the lifeSTYLE at this unique place. I invited photographer Rex Hohlbein to join me because he has an ongoing project of photographing Seattle's homeless people already under way.

We arrived and introduced ourselves as looking for Mimi. She was not there but we were invited to leave her a note. Everyone was initially kind and smiling but I also felt underlying tension, worry and concern. This more clearly unfolded as we remained to get acquainted for the next few hours. We were told that if Mimi did not return by X-hour today, she could loose her tent space. And, that her space was a special exception because all women were supposed to stay in the group tent for X-days before getting the privilege of a personal tent. There seemed to be some disagreement about whether her case as "artist-in-residence" was "fair." We asked permission to take some photos (only with permission for each one), look around (only with security escort guiding us), and dance (only in designated specific area).

This is a dwelling place for homeless people who "qualify." I say that because they run quite a tight ship here so it is not for the feint of energy or commitment. Tent dwellers must "check in" at least once every 3 days

lest they loose their space/home again. There are strict rules of conduct such as:
No letting the honey bucket doors slam
No profanity
No loitering

No littering

No smoking in the neighborhood

No smoking in your tent

No open flames

No parking within two blocks of camp
No pick-ups or drop-offs at camp
No spitting
No alcohol
No drugs
No walking in the planters
No eating in the kitchen tent
No going anywhere near the host church
No contact with the shelter in the church basement
No going into the

donations tent after hours
No going into the pantry
No extra blankets
No hoarding clothing
No trespassing
No men in women's tents

No women in men's tents
No anyone in anyone's tent (except your own)

No threats

No violence

No degrading ethnic or homophobic remarks
No missing a meeting
You must disinfect your hands before entering the kitchen tent
You must post a name on your tent
Smoking in designated areas only

(From AK mimi allin's blog http://tiny.cc/xeyl6)
All of these can also lead to loss of one's space if there are

enough "infractions." I imagine how tough it is already and then the added rules must make it really tough just to survive here....or anywhere. Everyone we spoke with was kind and forthright in answering our questions and had a pretty serious health problem that seemed to be the main "reason" they were here. I highly recommend you read AK mimi allin's excellent blog article about her life/artist residency here. It is very informative. I feel we all should know about how this lifestyle "works" and how close it is to home.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FafhL8Iotbs

music: Antony & The Johnsons "Another World"

Since this was part of the MomoButoh explorations in The STYLES, Rex and I were here to immerse and respond aesthetically through camera lens & dancing body. They only allowed me to dance in a limited space in front of the Port-O-Pottys where every move could be scrutinized as acceptable or not by the security guard on duty. This was the most careful and attentive audience I can every remember having. My dance felt like riding an ambiguous edge with fear of doing something wrong at any moment, rebellious teasing on the edge of acceptability, edgy anger at the limitations on freedom, heartfelt pain and compassion at seeing the hard conditions and suffering of my fellow humans. Along with that was a profound respect and awe with those who chose to make this work for them; the sense of humor they shared and the pride they had with their jobs and their tents. We were welcomed to view inside two of them--which may have broken the rules--in a way that was more generous than I have felt in any other home place I come to visit unannounced. Along with this, I felt a surrendered acceptance to lighten the load of it all and such gratitude for the privilege of being free to go back to a warm safe home after this visit.

Photos by Rex Hohlbein.