a n g e l f r a g m e n t s

Video

Mon, 02 Jul 2012 12:32:45 -0400

photo by Adeline Newmann

Mon, 07 May 2012 19:04:02 -0400

photo by Adeline Newmann

we open tonight

Thu, 03 May 2012 11:31:22 -0400

we open tonight

tech

Wed, 02 May 2012 04:32:09 -0400

tech

"Suppose that time is a circle, bending back on itself. The world repeats itself, precisely,..."

Tue, 24 Apr 2012 18:41:09 -0400

“Suppose that time is a circle, bending back on itself. The world repeats itself, precisely, endlessly. For the most part, people do not know that they will live their lives over. Parents treasure the first laugh from their child as if they will not hear it again. Lovers making love the first time undress shyly. How do they know that each secret glimpse, each touch, will be repeated again and again, exactly as before? No more than an ant crawling around the rim of a chrystal chandelier knows that it will return to where it began.”

- Alan Lightman, Einstein’s Dreams

victoria and sam went to iceland for a while to film things for...

Mon, 23 Apr 2012 01:58:02 -0400

victoria and sam went to iceland for a while to film things for the show

rehearsal

Sun, 22 Apr 2012 23:45:15 -0400

rehearsal

Photo

Sun, 08 Apr 2012 01:41:16 -0400

Video

Wed, 04 Apr 2012 14:29:00 -0400

rehearsal

Fri, 30 Mar 2012 15:05:18 -0400

rehearsal

"28th of June, 1905 “Stop eating to much,” says the grandmother, tapping her son on the..."

Sun, 18 Mar 2012 19:59:48 -0400

“

28th of June, 1905

“Stop eating to much,” says the grandmother, tapping her son on the shoulder. “You’ll die before me and who will take care of my silver.” The family is having a picnic on the bank of the Aare, ten kilometers south of Berne. The girls have finished their lunch and chase each other around a spruce tree. Finally dizzy, they collapse in the thick grass, lie still for a moment, then roll on the ground and get dizzy again. The son and his very fat wife and the grandmother sit on a blanket, eating smoked ham, cheese, sourdough bread with mustard, grapes, chocolate cake. As the eat and drink, a gentle breeze comes over the river and they breathe in the sweet summer air. The son takes off his shoes and wiggles his toes in the grass.

Suddenly a flock of birds darts overhead. The young man leaps from the blanket and runs after them, without taking time to put on his shoes. He disappears over the hill. Soon he is joined by the others, who have spotted the birds from the city.

One bird has alighted in a tree. A woman climbs the trunk, reaches out to catch the bird, but the birds jumps quickly to another branch. She climbs farther up, cautiously straddles the branch and creeps outward. The bird hops back to the lower branch. As the woman hangs helplessly up in the tree, another bird has touched down to eat seeds. Two men sneak up behind it, carrying a bell jar. But the bird is too fast for them and takes to the air, merging again with the flock.

Now the birds fly through the town. The paster at St. Vincent’s Cathedral stands in the belfry, tries to coax the birds into the arched window. An old women in the Kleine Schanze gardens sees the birds momentarily roost in a bush. She walks slowly toward them with a bell jar, knows she has no chance of entrapping a bird, drops her jar to the ground and begins weeping.

And she is not alone in her frustration. Indeed, each man and each woman desires a bird. Because this flock of nightingales is time. Time flutters and fidgets and hops with these birds. Trap one of these nightingales beneath a bell jar and time stops. The moment is frozen for all people and trees and soil caught within.

In truth, these birds are rarely caught. The children, who alone have the speed to catch birds, have no desire to stop time. For the children, time moves too slowly already. The rush from moment to moment, anxious for birthdays and new years, barely able to wait for the rest of their lives. The elderly desperately wish to halt time, but are much too slow and fatigued to entrap any bird. For the elderly, time darts by much too quickly. They yearn to capture a single minute at the breakfast table drinking tea, or a moment when a grandchild is stuck getting out of her costume, or an afternoon when the winter sun reflects off the snow and floods the music room with light. But they are too slow. They must watch time jump and fly beyond reach.

On those occasions when a nightingale is caught, the catchers delight in the moment frozen. They savor the precise placement of family and friends, the facial expressions, the trapped happiness over a prize or a birth or romance, the captures smell of cinnamon or white double violets. The catchers delight in the moment so frozen but soon discover that the nightingale expires, its clear, flutelike song diminishes to silence, the trapped moment grows withered and without life.

”

- Alan Lightman, Einstein’s Dreams

dailies 3/9/12

Fri, 09 Mar 2012 23:47:05 -0500

dailies 3/9/12

christine

Tue, 06 Mar 2012 19:20:00 -0500

christine

Song of Childhood By Peter Handke When the child was a child It walked with its arms...

Sat, 03 Mar 2012 17:26:00 -0500

Song of Childhood
By Peter Handke

When the child was a child
It walked with its arms swinging,
wanted the brook to be a river,
the river to be a torrent,
and this puddle to be the sea.

When the child was a child,
it didn’t know that it was a child,
everything was soulful,
and all souls were one.

When the child was a child,
it had no opinion about anything,
had no habits,
it often sat cross-legged,
took off running,
had a cowlick in its hair,
and made no faces when photographed.

When the child was a child,
It was the time for these questions:
Why am I me, and why not you?
Why am I here, and why not there?
When did time begin, and where does space end?
Is life under the sun not just a dream?
Is what I see and hear and smell
not just an illusion of a world before the world?
Given the facts of evil and people.
does evil really exist?
How can it be that I, who I am,
didn’t exist before I came to be,
and that, someday, I, who I am,
will no longer be who I am?

When the child was a child,
It choked on spinach, on peas, on rice pudding,
and on steamed cauliflower,
and eats all of those now, and not just because it has to.

When the child was a child,
it awoke once in a strange bed,
and now does so again and again.
Many people, then, seemed beautiful,
and now only a few do, by sheer luck.

It had visualized a clear image of Paradise,
and now can at most guess,
could not conceive of nothingness,
and shudders today at the thought.

When the child was a child,
It played with enthusiasm,
and, now, has just as much excitement as then,
but only when it concerns its work.

When the child was a child,
It was enough for it to eat an apple, … bread,
And so it is even now.

When the child was a child,
Berries filled its hand as only berries do,
and do even now,
Fresh walnuts made its tongue raw,
and do even now,
it had, on every mountaintop,
the longing for a higher mountain yet,
and in every city,
the longing for an even greater city,
and that is still so,
It reached for cherries in topmost branches of trees
with an elation it still has today,
has a shyness in front of strangers,
and has that even now.
It awaited the first snow,
And waits that way even now.

When the child was a child,
It threw a stick like a lance against a tree,
And it quivers there still today.

dailies 3/1/12

Thu, 01 Mar 2012 13:45:55 -0500

dailies 3/1/12

rehearsal

Wed, 29 Feb 2012 23:08:00 -0500

rehearsal

dailies 2/23/12

Thu, 23 Feb 2012 19:58:00 -0500

dailies 2/23/12

dailies 2/20/12

Mon, 20 Feb 2012 17:33:00 -0500

dailies 2/20/12

rehearsals

Sun, 12 Feb 2012 15:55:38 -0500

rehearsals

past work: ice & the storm. collaboration between victoria...

Mon, 23 Jan 2012 12:25:26 -0500

past work:

ice & the storm. collaboration between victoria sendra and samantha shay