Yes, I arrived on time, found the artists, and got the goals for the day. I then spent 80 minutes listening to Blues Dhikr Al-Salam (Blues Al Maqam) by Catherine Christer Hennix, imagining a performance that focuses on the magic of the space and not the people or the art in it. For most museum visits, I think about the art and the people that occupy that space. I look at ripe, red mouths agape as their eyes stare at statues of soldiers, tapestries and paintings of saturated color, and I forget about my own meaning in that space.
So this is what I wrote in observation of the self:
“Sitting in this indoor garden, I recognize the silence of sound, the drone I alway implore to fall into slumber. I also notice the judgement and movement. Were is the real silence coming from? If this accurate? What about real stillness with time? What is that like?… It can also be winter that generates this silence— a small space for the mind to collect the silence and sign of breath leaving the body.”
So I decided to do this performance after lunch and then make my way to resume completing chores, father obligations, and writing reports on my students.
Trace the drops of water falling down one windowpane. Imagine it is a tear, a bit of sweat, the first drops of rainfall on dry, summer pavement. List all of the imagined drops and write a narrative for at least 50 and no more than 100.