It has been. Many many. So much has.
Do you ever feel like you're starting and stopping. All the time? How do I even? Ok.
Here we go. It's been about eleven hundred years since I last made a post on this site. But it's the new year and let's face it, about eleven hundred things have happened since I last posted about Lina back in the spring of 2018. I cannot believe it's been so long. Truth be told, I won't get around to writing about everything and I know that very few people will end up reading this. Maybe it's just for me. But regardless, much has happened.
One thing that happened, just yesterday in fact, is a swift and dramatic change to my website. It came out of necessity of necessity and I think it nicely reflects the growing that's led to it's metamorphosis. This was the result of my most recent plan: To make a business out of my skill set as expert of movement. I am working on developing classes, workshops, series, of body work for trauma patients. This is a dream I've had for a while now and I'm finally investing the hours to make it happen. More on this later...
...But what I've realized as newfound person-who-makes-business-without-knowledge-of-how-to-do-so, I've come to know a certain roller coaster activity that seems to be ongoing and endless and ongoing. This being the high of highs (actually working on stuff and feeling like, yes, this is the thing I should do with my hours) and the low of lows (dear god, how do I do this and why do I seem to get nowhere and why don't I have any money?) This vacillation can also be represented as a little line that swirls and swirls, rather than going straight. There must be progress happening, but can it be seen?
I'm not a 'business person.' In my 4th decade, I've only just begun consistently keeping a monthly budget. I giggle when people ask me how much I expect to be paid for my work. I am constantly undervaluing myself and I'm not sure why. These are things I'm ashamed of, and this is what I would most like to change about myself. Contact me if you have ideas...
But the reason I tell you this is because in my formless, business plan-less plan for starting a business, I've swirled and twirled for a few weeks now trying to push ahead in some kind of way to achieve some ideas I've had. One large goal was to reach out to a number of professionals who may be interested in helping support my ideas or collaborate or host workshops, etc. This effort took SOOOOO much longer than I had anticipated! Why? Procrastination, maybe, but honestly, because to write a pitch, you have to know your shit and look the part. There were a number of steps I had to take before I could reach out, and one major one turned out to be about my website.
So far, this website has been a showcase of an actor. Some images and videos to help interested parties get in touch with me leading to more work. But now I am suddenly wanting to offer more than acting. I want to teach. I am a teacher. I want to see what else I can do. And (as much as I seem to dislike the digital representations of people that are so very necessary for success,) I want this to represent this growing, becoming version of myself. I also just finished listening to Michelle Obama's memoir...so thanks for the title, M.
Lisa Bufano - lovely inspiration for Lina
I spend a lot of time waiting. At least it feels like that. Hurry up and wait. Go to work. Make rent. Feed the cat. And wait for that thing. What is that thing? What am I waiting for, and why isn’t it here yet? I ask. That’s not what life is supposed to be, at least this is what yoga says. This is what Suzuki training says. You are here now. It starts now. You are in it now. It has already started. It is already moving. You are still, and it is moving. It is always turning and turning inside of you.
But, no. But nothing’s happening. But I’ve come this far. But if it’s turning inside me, if it’s moving inside me, why am I not going? Why haven’t I progressed? And if I’m supposed to, where is that place?
I feel like I’m traveling down a long trail and it’s years and years of walking at a steady pace. Watching the trees. And then…
And then. There’s maybe a small town. And you stop at this town. And you pick up a menu. And drink something refreshing. And eat something nourishing for once, instead of beans. And you meet someone who wants to talk about poetry and laugh. And spend the whole night celebrating something. Anything. Celebrating the walk. Celebrating the steadiness. Celebrating food and laughter and love and life. And you finally get a good night’s sleep. And then, you get up and keep walking.
I think this is how it feels to love something like theatre. To love something that you feel so rarely comes to you. Or, maybe the kind of project that just opens a door and invites you in, instead of you having to knock. It’s elusive and rare. It wants you to find it, and then gives you its hand. And you feel like, maybe the only reason I’m walking at all is to have one night like this one.
Lina. Lina. Is the first play that has been written just for me by someone who knows me not at all. She’s holding her hand out and I, with such gratitude, unburden myself and follow her in for some tea.
Click to view my Pinterest page research on Lina, formerly known as The Woman with No Legs, part of the four-part Stories of the Body by Andras Visky. An easy, visual element to the process.
Exploration for Stories of the Body: The Woman With No Legs
"Vientulais Engelis" by Peteris Vasks, violin by Alina Pogostkina
Early stages of research for Theatre Y's next show, Stories of the Body: The Woman With No Legs.
I've always worked from my feet, my legs, and my background as a dancer and athlete. But it hasn't been until this play that I've realized just how heavily I rely on my legs in creating work. My fear in this stems from a worry that I'll be unable to create without my roots; that without my legs, I've lost my physical intelligence. Just in the beginning phases of this rehearsal process, there's so much I want to learn about what the legs mean for freedom, for movement, for connecting and what taking them away does to a person.
Here is a section from Cloud Gate's Bamboo Dream to Arvo Part's "Tabula Rasa: Silentium," a song present in The Woman With No Legs. In this piece, I'm curious about the woman's expression of agency and freedom, especially through her legs and feet, as she's manipulated and guided wholly by the man.
More about Theatre Y's Stories of the Body and The Woman With No Legs here.