minimalism and maximalism

To extrapolate then, from the last entry on emptiness and fullness, I suppose that the function of minimalism (say, in dance) is to call up my imagination and my attention. And the function of maximalism - I borrow this term from Cornelius - is to blast me into nothingness.

Somewhere here is a lesson in how to construct a mandala.



So is everything in between a mere opiate?

As an artist, how do I know when I am imparting immortality - through heightened attention - into mortal life and when I am just a drug dealer, constructing beauty only to lull people into unconsciousness.

emptiness and fullness

On the road trip from Regina to Vancouver, driving through miles and miles of prairie, I could not get enough of the sky, the uninterrupted horizon. My mind raced, caught constantly by shifts in the light, the slightest movement of a cloud, the variations of wildflower clusters by the road, the wind in the grasses.

As Junhong said, "I keep imagining I see mountains."

My imagination, my attention called up by the emptiness around me.

A complete opposite to the day a month earlier, when I had sat on a rock at the bottom of a canyon - my mind emptied by the fullness of the landscape.

comforts

I took to drinking brandy and smoking pot and cigarettes to calm myself down from the anxious excitement of being in the outdoors.

I also cooked.

I discovered that cooking in the outdoors is an exercise in focus, balance and intense ergonomic planning. The simple act of retrieving an ingredient that is not within your reach requires a complex dance that calls for the unfolding of your hip flexors, balancing on rocks as you pick your way to the said ingredient, more folding and unfolding of hip flexors as you bend down to pick it up, more balancing on rocks to return, all the while being careful not to knock over the other ingredients and equipment also precariously balancing on other rocks.

The first night, I cooked pasta with bison sausages, bell peppers and fresh basil.
The second night, I made pasta with zucchini and the rest of the basil. This accompanied the trout that Jason had caught, which I stuffed with sage, rosemary and thyme packed from my garden, and which I then panfried.
The third night, giving in to a curiosity about dehydrated camping food, I reconstituted an unremarkable beef stroganoff-in-a-bag from MEC. To accompany this, however, I made a perfect pot of basmati rice - no mean feat over a camp stove that does not simmer, let me tell you.

emptied and filled

On a rock, in the middle of a river, at the bottom of a near-inaccessible canyon, I sat empty of all intellectual pretenses, and was filled instead by wonder and terror at the logic of nature.

Later, on my belly, with the rock beneath me, the sky above me, I was led to a hallucinatory union with the elements, fucked by sun, sky, trees, rock, man.

My body changes, branded inside and out.

the great outdoors

Almost a year ago, I said to Jason, "I am not very outdoorsy I'm afraid, but I will have a drink with you on a patio anytime."

Now, see what has happened:

transmission #2

Mika is Junhong's tap teacher. She is a small Japanese woman with a big voice. She inspires and terrorises the boys to dance like there's no tomorrow. She gives them choreography that wins them medals and makes them feel like the coolest boys in the lower mainland.

Yesterday was the rehearsal for the school's year-end show: an epic organisational wonder that involves more than a hundred kids and some adults, all run by Mika aided by a few assistants and as a whistle.

While the boys were being made to run their piece to perfection on stage, amidst the noise and clamour of waiting parents and kids, Mika paused to turn around to the parents and noisy children and said:

THE THEATRE IS LIKE CHURCH FOR DANCERS. DO YOU KNOW HOW HARD IT IS TO DANCE WHEN NOBODY IS WATCHING? IT IS LIKE A HEARTBREAK. PLEASE RESPECT THE DANCERS AND PAY ATTENTION

I felt my own heart break and fell in love with her even more.

alignment

The last two mornings, I discovered the joy of feeling my heart break and heal simultaneously. I walk around now with the bits of blood and cardiac muscle tissue of another's embedded in my heart, bits of mine in his.