The unfinished red

Red belly

I was rehearsing for a few weeks in the milk bar and created an improvised wonderful little piece of art. Unfortunately, there will be no public showing. There was just that one day where I performed it to myself. My belly is about to deflate and the magic and insight I felt while performing is lost and remembered forever.

I wish I could work on it more, I wish I knew how to work on it more, I wish I knew how to make an evening length show with all the pieces I created, performed and in addition materialize some of my ever burning and changing ideas. I wish I knew how to be persistent, excited and persevered in developing my art. The truth is, I don’t know how. As soon as I try to dive more into one of my pieces, I lose interest and meet resistance. I meet meaninglessness, boredom and doubt. I want to break through that resistance but I also honor it and understand its source.

Until this very moment the only place where I can stay with that is in between. In between acceptance and anger. Sometimes that is a very good place to be. Inspiring and thriving. In other times it feels depressing, sad and lonely. I guess the way out of that dilemma is finding an intention of why I want to perform. A real, honest and clear reason or at least one I believe in.

In the ‘unfinished red’ I recited that the first few months of pregnancy were at times so irritating because I was surprised about the lack of obvious side-effects, but especially about the lack of emotions. I realized I was judging the harmony this baby and I seemed to have found immediately…
After I said these words, I danced a duet with the little sprout that is growing inside of me. A duet that was entirely co-created in the spirit of collaborating and guiding equally. It was (and still is!) such a pleasure and loving experience to feel the impulses from inside and transfering them to the external world.

 

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