: Sophie’s information integration system :

there is a lot to process.

the place that i am in includes both the physical landscape and my own body. a lot of things are different than i am used to.

Koumaria is:

warm and dry. the ground is hard and it is hard to release my body into it when i am already feeling pain. and i am finding it difficult to find space. in a place so expansive with space, it’s hard to find one’s own. “The Creatures” got their own spaceship. they found their home. i need to find my own. it’s hard to be oneself when there is no space to do so.


on Beginning Again with Nothing to Prove. Grad School, Year Two.


on Loss, Death, and what's on the Other Side.


:: it’s been a long time! ::

fitting, somehow, that my last blog post was a repost. i remember actually writing one sometime after and we shall see if i can ever time travel back and squeeze it in.

but maybe it’s happily lost and i don’t need to…

needs. i have been thinking about needs a lot over the past year or so. what do i actually need in any given moment? how does that change in the next one? and how is what i need different from what i want?

one of my very first theater collaborators, Davi Cohen, introduced me to this way of approaching my life and artmaking process. Davi and i became collaborators with a desire to make work together, so we started training in the shared language of Suzuki and Viewpoints. as we evolved, we danced together, made work in unconventional ways, traveled across the country, presented in our home city, went on residency, made movies, ate food together, shared our personal triumphs and challenges, and broached the question:


:: the process that i go through writing this blog ::

DMunk and i affectionately joke about my never-ending ability to be “meta” about everything. (and you better believe that when i found out that WordPress has a Tag Cloud above a section called Meta, i revel in staring at this cloud and seeing what shapes emerge.)

but i haven’t really gone very deep with the process of writing this blog. maybe because it is inherently about process that it seems redundant to do so. but then i hear these little words repeat themselves and i realize that i channel these words often when creating new work. in Saratoga, Anne Bogart told us that when she directs SITI Company, a common thing she says when something is cooking is, “could be more.” to me, this means: it’s good. keep it. and where else can it go?


Villa Gitana = Gypsy Villa

i arrived at Villa Gitana and almost immediately proceeded to do yoga. i haven’t done yoga (at least not in the traditional sense and certainly not as my normal daily practice) since i got to Southeast Asia…

my body was in pain from all the traveling, all the surfing and moto biking, from both running around and laying around, and everything in between without much attention being placed on conscious stretching and breathing.

it was really difficult at first. i felt so off balance. my recurring pain on the left side of my neck and back was throbbing. and my new wrist pain in my right wrist (from surfing? from moto? from typing?) was crying out.


i have landed on this planet, i believe it is the present moment

:: 13 hours of tech ::

went something like:

  • wake up at 7am. try to blog and time travel all at once.
  • have awesome complimentary hotel breakfast with the birdies
  • shuttle to the Esplanade at 9:30am.
  • try to be exactly where i need to be in any given moment—including but not limited to: being onstage for tech, being backstage on my computer, releasing into the floor for my body, being in the wings with the Esplanade crew to work through insane transitions/quick changes.
  • lunch at mall food court. delicious and creepy.
  • dragonfruit juice. yes.
  • more of being where i need in the moment. including all of the above plus: eating Malay/Chinese hybrid sweet treats brought to us by the amazing man who works at the theater (must find out his name), brief bouts of bodywork for fellow cast members, manic running back and forth in the ginormous backstage area, tending to broken legs and souls (both human and puppet), smoking a much-needed cigarette with Bob.
  • ouch. body hurts.
  • karada kowaleta – “broken body.” an appropriate expression for today.
  • we eat “Canadian pizza” and Greek salad with our hands.
  • cracking up over our current state of affairs. ibuprofen and a backpack full of Wind-Up Bird Chronicle DVDs.
  • come home to Hotel. hot shower. deal with my hair. sit in front of computer and try to make sense of my life. start to fall asleep with fingers hitting the keyboard. (again.) fail to make sense in any major way. acknowledge that i must prepare for a dress rehearsal/opening night tomorrow. Panic Face? no, sleepy face.
  • assume sleeping position.


    :: Post-Run #1 ::

     what did i learn from that?

    giving over to others, mostly. or trusting in my self. and gravity. or all three at the same time…

    in Wind-Up Bird, it is becoming clearer and clearer who is driving each scene. in the aquarium it’s Kumiko—it’s me, the puppet, and Ai in harmony. or rather, Ai, the puppet, me. that feels better, less pressure. and when i do that, when i give over to whoever is driving each scene, i get to go along for the ride. it becomes an adventure that we go on together. and at each stop we get out of the car and we let someone else take the wheel…



    connecting breath to the emotion. what does that mean?

    i realized after this run that i was finding ways to breathe with Kumiko and as a result, i was starting to find myself in the aquarium.

    after that, it wasn’t as easy. mostly because the rest of my scenes are not just with the puppet, but also a whole puppet team.

    Fergus is the lead puppeteer, guiding Toru’s head, his thinking. His eyes are what guide his vision and the rest of the body moves to encounter it. and i couldn’t tell how he was breathing. in my newfound world of letting go, i was trying to release into Fergus, release into Kumiko, release into Toru (and the other characters, and the world itself). and to connect the emotion to the breath, i was trying to release into the breath. but i couldn’t find it. it was because i couldn’t find Fergus’ breath. i was trying to listen for it, to see it, to feel it. and i either came up with nothing or i felt confused about how it connected to the emotion.



    watashi mo – me too

    ma ma – okay

    what have i learned midway on my life’s journey?

    my left shoulder is all rough and dark and tangled…

    and other than that, i see a clearing. the sweet fruits of life are ahead.

    what i realized immediately after the first puppet scene, shaking and nervous and a mess, is that i was nervous that Tom was here. and naturally, i suppose. i knew his watchful and sharp eye would be carefully attending to every move to every breath that i made. and thus, i forgot to breathe. but Tom is also the most kind-hearted and understanding and wonderfully genius person (and we have been working together for years now), and so it is strange that, for whatever reason, i felt insecure about my ability to puppeteer.