January 18, 2020
The Quarry Project Update
A foot of snow fell over two days, then the sun came out. Sparkling, expanse of white.
Flashes of blue as the jay lands, wing prints on the snow.
Wednesday, we witnessed a lone coyote, walking slowly through a portion of the field, stopping to look up at the house as we looked at him through binoculars. He was healthy with a thick coat and bushy tail. He emanated composure and strength; he was in no hurry, waiting, watching. What a sustained period of seeing! Mostly, we hear their voices, or if we are fortunate, a blur in the corner of our eye.
I kept looking over at our old, skinny dog Oscar lying in the snow trying to cool the interior turmoil of the lymphoma in his body, and I thought, ‘Your wild brother is here to guide you.’
That may sound a bit “new age.” It certainly is saturated with sadness at the departure of our good dog. Yet I know, from years of immersion in the creative process, that most people sense only a small portion of the layers of this world. When we train our bodies to grow aware of the worlds beyond our familiar borders, we enlarge ourselves and our capacities to connect.
During the making of the BED scene for The Quarry Project, we spoke about the underworld of dreams, our most common portal through the veil. What started as a solo, expanded into a trio. What were two stages next to each other with set elements of a bed and a ladder, evolved into one; the bed stayed and the ladder drifted away to the far reaches of the quarry. This winter, the following three women will be polishing their dance which occurs on a long narrow stage down front. Here are two clips from this past summer: part of their sleep-like shifts and part of their fast rolling and leaping. Amy and I are honored to be working with such committed and skillful dance artists.
It takes many people to bring this kind of art to completion. If you are able, please make a donation to support Nicole, Molly, and Joanie here. They will be paid approximately $2,000 each for the 2020 time rehearsing and performing.
portraits by Emily Boedecker
‘Til next month,