Anakana Schofield

Riot Act Remix

God save the King.

preventing tumults

assemblies being immediately assembled

persons chargeth sovereign themselves

habitations peaceably depart

to to

pains in the pains contained upon the pains contained

in our being assembled

to to re chargeth

made mad

mad made

My favourite noticing in the Push Festival programme is that the event entitled Cartographic Exploits has no location yet attached to it.

 

1 Vancouverite meets 100% Vancouver

Yesterday, thanks to the kindness of a friend, I experienced (attended doesn’t quite suffice! since I found myself narrating through out it), a piece at the Push Festival called 100% Vancouver. The piece was a form of statistical social anthropology combining mapping, movement, questions, truth, but centrally 100 local citizens selected in a (sorta) chain reaction and within that, representative demographics of all who live in Vancouver. (sorta)…

The participants were brave to stand up there, endearing, engaging, moving and very funny. Their individual stories, many of which were hinted at, I’d like to have heard more of.

Experiencing the piece there was a sense of being “inside” the city. I’d speculate other pieces in the Push fest will form an external looking on, or at, even while attempting to be within because of the instruments and techniques they employ to try to capture or understand who and what we are. The mirror rather than the tunnel or well. So in this regard 100% Vancouver offered something unique. Then we factor in the truth of what the people are telling us about what they live or feel and things become hazy. What’s said inside the tunnel may not be what is reflected in the mirror?

To put aside the respect I have for the bravery of those who participated (these people are not performers and their willingness to tell us something of what they think, live, have lived, is to be admired and appreciated) later I began to contemplate the bigger canvas of what the project attempted and where it might go next or where it could have gone further.

The reality of living in this city became obscured somewhat by the rising wave of civic pride (within the piece and audience) that inevitably takes place when we, visually and emotionally, connect with familiar sounds (names, areas, addresses, points of reference, the I live here geddit sense of being one of all these people before me and identifying with them — especially the most endearing characters). And I’d add when the Mayor is sitting in the back row, along with other civic celebs.

The optimism of the 100% surprised me and I wondered of the contagion factor.

Three neighbourhoods were missing: curiously close in geographic area (Oakridge, Shaughnessy and I think the third was South Cambie (or Fairview?). I think what’s absent should somehow be addressed within the piece and the difficulty of why no one could be found who met the demographic requirement because that also tells us something about where we live.

I’d love to see a further interrogation of the idea behind the piece. Something that would dig beyond the census box ticking. Perhaps something riskier, that said I recognize the barriers and reasons why that might be difficult within what was a “theatrical” and performative framework (is that the best medium?)

My friend Lori pointed out in a post discussion that the most compelling moments were when something visually engaging was happening within the piece, or when the people were doing interesting things with their bodies. There was one example that stood out when all 100 individuals physically acted out in gestures what they usually do at every hour of the day. The time was projected behind them and they’d mime their activities. It provided us with a wealth of contrast and actions and individual lives to examine and again put us “inside” the city.

I’ll upload some of the questions later to give you an idea of what was posed to the participants. The most invigorating events are those you leave and think more on or think out from. Departure points to further inquiry. This was one such event.

“My mother had an all-purpose word for any mysterious anatomical reality. She called it an epizootic. So I always say that the X-ray treatments must have speeded up my epizootic, but that’s about all I can offer.” Reynolds Price.

Skytrain to Rio Taxi

During last Friday’s Taxi! intervention Lori and I continued with a technique of inquiry from our previous collaboration for Chaos and that Lori had employed in her other works. On the way home I was asking Lori about the exchanges that came out of her security deployment and was fascinated to hear there were geographic repetitions within peoples stories. Two told stories that related to Rio (was it ?). The next day I remembered hearing an identical type of story that took place in Burnaby. The intervention took place in an industrial area of Vancouver. If we were to map the trail of the lines in the stories they would have gone Vancouver – Rio – Vancouver – Rio – Vancouver – Burnaby. I like the idea of taking say a train to Rio to arrive in Burnaby.  All the world’s a stage … and so on.

Curiously, as is my talent for not turning left, I managed on the way home to keep turning right and we ended up back where we started from until the fateful “left turn” re-arrived. So in fact we were turning right for Rio and finally left for home.

It may have Buenos Aires ? Not Rio. But it was certainly Burnaby not Bandung. (A friend of mine did a parachute jump in Bandung and promptly landed in a bush and broke her arm, but I don’t know anyone whose parachuted into a bush in Burnaby. The aforementioned parachute jump was problematic only because she had promised her mother, who was vehemently opposed to parachute jumps, she’d never do another one.)

What I omitted to mention, nor remember is that “them nights” are inevitably followed by 72 hours of shredded musculature. Including a painful awareness of muscles there’s really no need for me to know I actively possess.

Fortunately, I am reading on the topic of muscles for a review I am writing and can certainly agree they “challenge the order of things”…

Those nights… yes them ones

Tonight, I had the moment that had eluded me all these months and that I’ve documented rigorously as eluding me in this blog, I had some small triumphant moments at gymnastics.

I had not expected any. I was so exhausted I was out at the coffee machine chatting about social problems in the city with another of the coaches, who was eating a bar of chocolate. We were having a great auld gab. On my return to the gym, one of the fellas was slagging me for chatting and doing nowt. I teased him back in return.

It helped that I was working with a coach tonight who I haven’t seen since my first night return to the mats back a year and a half ago. It also helped that she’s a Newfie and even has the same name as my mother. (Perhaps I am more inclined to do what she says?). She’s a witty, warm woman and she’d a glint her eye as we negotiated my stumbling blocks. She was ready for my diversions. But “you could do it you see,” she was reasoning with me. She’d examine what I did and then insist … “hmmm you could do this…”

So new eyes, new ideas and new angles. What a great trio.

And a different surface. We were working on the flat floor rather than the tumble tramp. She set up a box arrangement for me to handstand on top off, then snaps legs down and under, push from shoulders back into back handspring. I had such a shock the first standing back handspring I threw for her assessment onto a “sting mat” as they call them. I had expected such a heavy drop onto my wrists, if my arms would even support me that far, instead I barely felt a thing and flipped over with surprising ease! It was almost polite as the plop of a vase of flowers onto the table.

Have I gotten stronger?! I don’t think so. If anything I am reduced in strength. Perhaps the humour, warmth and that glint of “ah but you could” carried me across whatever psychological mound was impeding and holding up the body.

Two other moments of note: at the end of the session a young man, adorned in a most impressive shirt with three penguins on it, informs me he’s a male Cheerleader. A what? Says I. And he gives me the history of male cheerleading and a name, I’ve  clean forgot of some group in Florida who be the best.

Another fella was holding a chain with a jade piece in his mouth, as he readied up for a tumbling sequence. “Is it the mother in me I said but would you not be a bit worried about that chain and your teeth.” No, he says. I’d hate you to damage your tooth. He then takes he hurdle step throws a sequence that included a straight back somersault almost up to the roof (his next was a double,  that was a double straight back! and then another at least a twist and a half). Finally he admits his granny gave him the necklace and the stone. “I knew it, ” I told him. “As soon as I saw it in your mouth, I thought only his granny could have given it to him, but didn’t want to say it.”  I love these little moments of revelation. The body may be coursing through the air like a well positioned kite, but the old mind is underneath it worrying about the luck of or damage of a granny’s gift.

Nights like tonight are rare, and rare is a fine thing while it lasts. As long as it turns up now and again, I’ll be happy to wait on the next innings. And will pay with the aches of it all manana. Good, necessary aches mind.

Dozy despite the buzz tea blend.

The tea blends are making a comeback.

Today, an afternoon blend.

-A teaspoon of an old Steeps tin of Lapsong Suchong

-A teaspoon and a bit of Murchies Earl Grey (black blend).

It hit the tongue and the back of the throat and to be honest was a reminder of how out of blend I am. I let it steep in the cup too long I fear and must remember that two strong whiffs do not the best combination make.

Buzz akin to a table saw rather than the Happy Days lift I was after.

Blend on …

Winter gardening has proved an abject disaster.  This is a disappointing, but one must accept the limits of 2nd floor minimal space horticulture. I saw one of my favourite gardeners today out on the road ‘The Flower Man’ I call him. He’s besotted with les fleurs and he only grows flowers. I asked after his seedling plans and we had a brief exchange on the prospect of recommencing at the garden.

Now I’ve to turn my attention to building some kind of raised platform-ish seedling table, so that my seeds do not meet the same misfortune, as the late season batch did last year. This means I have to raise the greenhouse up, above the level of the balcony, which will probably draw attention and may lead to a “letter of chastisement”. The space is very limited out there but I do have this wild notion of raising the plastic and height to about 5’0ft.

After the sign making, which involved brackets (gasp) and the shelf building — how difficult can a table be!

The other day at the supermarche I was reading a magazine called Wood or Woodworking. Note there was only one copy remaining so it’s more popular than the gossip ones it is housed with. The front cover showed an elaborate buffet board with drawers and doors and shelves and cupboards beneath. “If you can build a box you can build this unit” the text boasted. I folded it up and replaced it, since I cannot build a box … yet.

I will say that woodworking magazines and knitting magazines have something in common, a kind of unfathomable code, not unlike Lacan that it takes sustained effort to comprehend and I am not sure I have the necessary application for.

 

 

Vancouver parks & pools 1940 footage

A few days ago someone pointed me towards a wonderful silent film of  various Vancouver parks in 1940.  It’s fascinating to watch this footage and has a feel of the 1970’s to my eye. What intrigued me was the relationship of the body within it against the back drop of the rather prim looking tidy horticulture of some of the parks and intertwined with the garrulous bursts of spirit at some of the playgrounds.

The Vancouver Sun newspaper used to sponsor free public swimming lessons, would that it might do something this useful today? These days it appears to ignore the geography in its title. It could be the Nowhere in particular Sun.

This morning at the swimming pool I noticed an advert for a free swimming program: you needed to be able to swim 25 m continuously in order to qualify. Like many aspects of living in this city, the expectations just go up and up and up and away. The facilities, however, continue to improve and be a central part of peoples’ civic interaction and this is something to be grateful for.

(Thanks to Sandy for introducing me to this piece)

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VYdllbJyeyM&fs=1&hl=en_US]

 

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