Entanglements of Two: A Series of Duets

Description

Drawing out the particularities of working in twos, with a focus on collaborative performance making, this book considers the duet as a particular configuration in which to think, the duo a microcosm of humankind, and presents everyday entanglement of form and practice seen through the lens of the smallest multiple unit.

This book explores the practical, philosophical and aesthetic implications of performers working in pairs. It focuses on a ten-year period in the work of Karen Christopher, alongside wider reflections on the duet as a concept in artistic and social life. The book presents an investigation of the entanglement of form and practice seen through the lens of the smallest multiple unit of collaboration: the pair.

During this ten-year period, Christopher set out to create a series of duets by working with one other artist. The 25 pieces in the collection includes reflections from an international group of collaborators, artists, linguists, physicists, theologians, philosophers and performance scholars. Many of them deal with the question of artistic collaboration and entanglement, contemplating the significance of those terms both on an interpersonal and global level.

This book provides a fascinating insight into the creative working process of a particular artist, whilst providing a blueprint for how collaboration might take place. There are many passages that might provide inspiration for other artists and overall the book makes a moving and heartfelt plea for interpersonal open-ness and mutual investment. 

Primary readership will be among international theatre-makers, artists, performance and art scholars, philosophers, teachers, directors, actors, dancers, performance artists and those interested in creative and personal writing about performance, art and art-making. It will be of particular relevance to those with an interest in Karen Christopher, or in the other contributors.

[1] 

Opening gambit

Karen Christopher

[2]

Foreword

Season Butler

[3] 

Haranczak/Navarre Performance Projects

Duet collaborations, 2010-21

[4]

Introductory fragment #1: the two of you 

Karen Christopher

[5]

Between Two Somethings

J. R. Carpenter

[6]

Duet Walk

Karen Christopher & Mary Paterson

[7]

Resonance of Two

Karen Christopher

[8]

Six Practices of Learning Together in Havruta

Orit Kent

[9]

Introductory fragment #2: heart and lungs 

Karen Christopher

[10]

Consider This (Control Signal)

Mary Paterson

[11]

Staying with the tremble

Eirini Kartsaki

[12]

What never stops?

Joe Kelleher

[13]

Invisible partners remain themselves inside

Litó Walkey

 

[14]

The Promise of More to Come (So Below)

Mary Paterson

[15]

On creating a climate of attention: the composition of our work

Karen Christopher & Sophie Grodin

[16]

Not so much balanced as balancing (miles & miles)

Mary Paterson

[17]

The collaborative artistic working process of Control Signal:

A drama-linguistic exploration of the shifting of roles

Andrea Milde

[18]

Introductory fragment #3: tangled

Karen Christopher

[19]

Imagining Seven Falls 

Mary Paterson

[20]

Introductory fragment #4: a lot of rope

Karen Christopher

[21]

Always On Uneven Ground

Rajni Shah

 

[22]

TwoFold: Questions

Mary Paterson

[23]

A Physics Duet

David Berman

 

[24]

Conclusion: I have been thinking of you this whole time

Mary Paterson

[25]

Diffractions: record of a passage

David Williams

[26]

Contributors’ biographies



[27]

Acknowledgments 

Sujets

• Theater
• Performing Arts
• Theatre
• Performance art
• General officer
• Dance
• General

Informations

• Publié par: Intellect Books
• Date de parution: 11 août 2021
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781789385069
• Langue: English

Extrait

Entanglements of Two: A Series of Duets
EDITED BY KAREN CHRISTOPHER AND MARY PATERSON
Contents
Opening Gambit
KAREN CHRISTOPHER
Foreword
SEASON BUTLER
Haranczak/Navarre Performance Projects Duet Collaborations, 2010-21
Introductory Fragment 1: The Two of You
KAREN CHRISTOPHER
Between Two Somethings
J. R. CARPENTER
Duet Walk
KAREN CHRISTOPHER MARY PATERSON
Resonance of Two
KAREN CHRISTOPHER
Six Practices of Learning Together in Havruta
ORIT KENT
Introductory Fragment 2: Heart and Lungs
KAREN CHRISTOPHER
Consider This ( Control Signal )
MARY PATERSON
Images from Haranczak/Navarre s duet series
Staying With the Tremble
EIRINI KARTSAKI
What Never Stops?
JOE KELLEHER
Invisible Partners Remain Themselves Inside
LIT WALKEY
The Promise of More to Come ( So Below )
MARY PATERSON
On Creating a Climate of Attention: The Composition of Our Work
KAREN CHRISTOPHER SOPHIE GRODIN
Not so much balanced as balancing ( miles miles )
MARY PATERSON
The Collaborative Artistic Working Process of Control Signal: A Drama-Linguistic Exploration of the Shifting of Roles
ANDREA MILDE
Introductory Fragment 3: Tangled
KAREN CHRISTOPHER
Imagining Seven Falls
MARY PATERSON
Introductory Fragment 4: A Lot of Rope
KAREN CHRISTOPHER
Always on Uneven Ground
RAJNI SHAH
TwoFold: Questions
MARY PATERSON
Always Already : Material in Progress
JEMIMA YONG
A Physics Duet
DAVID BERMAN
Conclusion: I Have Been Thinking of You This Whole Time
MARY PATERSON
Diffractions: Record of a Passage
DAVID WILLIAMS
Contributors Biographies
Acknowledgements
Opening Gambit
KAREN CHRISTOPHER
This book is about duets. Not duos, as we discuss in these pages, but an other form that is produced when two people work together. This careful distinction in language is important because a duet is a third element that emerges from its constituent parts. A duet is a creation, both more real and less real than the elements that made it possible.
This book is anchored in the work of my performance company, Haranczak/Navarre Performance Projects; specifically, it is anchored in over a decade of my practice working in duets with other artists including Gerard Bell, Teresa Brayshaw, Tara Fatehi Irani, Sophie Grodin and Rajni Shah. Like those duets, this book began as an invitation from me - or a series of invitations - each designed to expand beyond a single point of view. One of those invitations was to Mary Paterson, to co-edit the publication. Other invitations were sent to other performers, other artists, other writers and other people working in disciplines that are less often connected with performance: linguistics, pedagogy, physics.
The aim of the publication is to reflect on these third elements - that which happens when a duet is formed - and, as part of that process, to generate new ones.
Because sequencing is everything and every sequence tells a story (the story of the sequence), we have arranged the contents with an introduction that is more like a thread stitching through the book than a pile of words at the beginning. The usual transition from not reading to reading a book is all upfront; in this book, we have distributed it throughout and reflected back on the texts in the conclusion.
As co-editors, we are thinking about transitions and how they operate and how we make it from one moment to the next, drawing each receding moment into the oncoming one - healing the gaps with a moment of lingering, holding on for adjustment, bracing for change. With our distributed introductory fragments, we are acknowledging the many transitions encountered between the different pieces of writing that appear here. A reader (you) can certainly drop in at any moment, or follow a single thread, or follow a number of threads simultaneously. Apparently, a sentence in English can only say one thing at a time. We will see about that.
Since 2010, Mary has responded to the work of Haranczak/Navarre Performance Projects by composing creative responses, in written form, to the experience of attending our live events. They stand as works of art in their own right. These pieces now form Mary s contribution to the introduction. My introductory fragments attempt to convey a set of preoccupations that led to the conception of this book project.
In this way, we have tried to assemble the essays that make up this book into a continuous whole, while leaving them intact as individual entities. We are attempting to weave them together into a fabric of differentiated strands.
Foreword
SEASON BUTLER
Part One: The Urchin and the Octopus
When I was 11 years old, I lived with my parents and sisters in an apartment a few blocks from the National Zoo in Washington, DC. 1 There was a constant exchange between the smog of broad streets congested with big cars that, in the early nineties, had not yet fallen entirely out of favour and the impossible green of Rock Creek Park. This exchange was nearly imperceptible but much easier to notice during the slowdown of The Hundreds. The Hundreds refers to 100 days of 100 heat and 100% humidity that sets in the summer. 2 Under these conditions, you have to go slow - so slow that you can almost see the exhaust exhale and the trees inhale; so still that the city is perfect. Under these conditions, I would walk to the zoo, a place with air-conditioned buildings but without store detectives and fresh air without audacious, catcalling would-be paedos. 3
And if I was quick, I could meet Arthur 4 there for lunch.
Static hugged the afternoon: the overcast white sky, the buzz of big brown beetles, the songs of cockroach wings and the odd abortive cicada. Mosquitos bit welts into my straight brown legs on summer days and I scratched the welts to big round scars and I was almost a juvenile giraffe, all limbs and knobbly joints, legging my way through the city.
I entered the Invertebrate House as black spots started to appear on the hot pavement with the onset of the afternoon rainstorm. Inside was close and clammy but a few precious degrees cooler. It took a while for my eyes to adjust to the dim, but I knew my way by rote. I admired the cuttlefish first and proceeded to the touch pool where I teased anemones that tried to grab my fingers and let urchins spines explore my palms until the time came to feed Arthur.
Arthur, the giant octopus. He had eight legs and three hearts - facts I admired but did not envy. I took my place for the feeding demonstration, watching him and pretending he was watching me. That day, his craggy skin was deep brown. I turned my arm and squeezed the skin of my elbow to compare.
Normally, the zookeeper would stake a shrimp through a long metal stick and walk it along the floor of the tank, letting Arthur hunt it as if in the wild. 5 I made small talk with the keeper, who recognized me from my frequent visits. She eyed me up with scrutiny, raised her eyebrows in a come on, cheer-up, it can t be that bad expression. I smiled back weakly, whereupon she asked whether, as I knew the drill, I would like to feed Arthur that day. My single heart leaped and my face formed the sincere smile people prefer from girls.
I climbed a step ladder to the top of the tank while the zookeeper narrated for the assembled tourists and day trippers. I staked the shrimp on the sharp end of the stick and plunged my arm in.
Arthur watched and strategized.
But when he finally did strike, it was to shoot a tentacle from under his coiled body, not to grab the dead grey shrimp, but the more substantial meat of my right arm. It spiralled up from my wrist to my shoulder with the speed and strength of absolute intent. There was a short splash as he pulled, and my chest hit the surface of the water. Arthur s grip was both elastic and unyielding, strange smooches from the animal I most admired, the outset of the contact so quick and wet, I was breathless and never wanted it to end. At some point, we made eye contact, and somehow, I knew that the event - what I would later decide was my life s very first event - would last as long as our eye contact. Indeed, my rescue came far too soon; the zookeeper rushed to my side, climbing the ladder next to me, then reaching into the water to soothe Arthur by rubbing his big, wrinkly mantle. After a long moment, he relaxed his grip; his colour changing from brown to the deep red of an anatomical heart. I withdrew my dotted arm and hoped the blush red suction-cup circles would leave scars.
Part Two: Keep Me Company
This book is about performance-making processes in a specific unit of human togetherness (the duet) and creations orientated towards a larger and less discreet unit of human togetherness (the audience).
Consider the twosome. A cultural privileging of this configuration hovers. Elizabeth von Armim s narrator in The Enchanted April even suggests that people can only really be happy in pairs [ ] .
We meet one-to-one to have focus, a kind of shared privacy, in a group that is not big enough for us to use the word group . The idea urges notions of intimacy, a word that comes up a lot in the meditations that follow. Twosomes give space for ideas to unfold between you and me . Just between you and me, keeping confidence of a kind. And yet, the outward orientation complicates the notion of secretiveness that might be implied here. Complication, tension, imbalance, selfishness: these are not just obstacles within the work-of-two, but central to its potential.
The twosome cuts both ways. The potential for balance and the echo of the symmetry we so often find in nature and culture (e.g. monogamous couples, paired limbs, creepy doppelg ngers) is tempered by the vulnerability inherent in being alone together. Within this state of intimacy, we feel the pain of being misunderstood, ignored and overruled most acutely. Imbalances are heightened, and they are lonely in a pair. Break-ups are considered failures . Impasses often require another party to resolve.
S