The Quarry Project

“When I picked up the tickets to yesterday's performance,I had NO idea what a treat I was in for. Perhaps you have seen the performance or videos of it online. It was SHEER Magic: the gray/green of the quarry, the dark rippling water, the many different floats moving around the water and each other silently,  and the dancers bursting out of grey shrouds into all shades of joyous RED movements. I have never seen anything remotely like this (and I have been going to the Montreal program "Danse Danse" for
years). And I am still both excited and calmed "the morning after.”

-Gerhild Bjornson

It’s been a week. 

It’s been a week 
and I’ve given myself a blackeye 
And I’ve fallen down the stairs
It’s been a week since I hugged Claire
Since I hummed against grey walls
Since I floated

It feels a little like grief
The world is just continuing around me

Kids needing to eat, 
to be hugged, 
to be scolded, 
dirty clothes to wash, 
clean clothes to fold, 
endless days of hands in water 
washing dish after dish

I frame picture after picture I receive 
Hoping to capture the ever elusive, unrecreatable moment in space and time
Surrounded by beauty
Full of gratitude

MaryChris

I wanted to tell you what a viscerally moving experience I had. So many aspects of your vision–the colors of the robes, the echoes across the quarry, the wonderful, wonderful, wonderful humor (god, to be able to take ourselves seriously and also NOT take ourselves seriously: such a gift), the precision of the dancers, the smiles on their faces that felt truly authentic, the thrill/terror as the platform edges weighed into the water, Mary B's unearthly voice, the way these threads were so deftly woven together–were deeply impactful for me. I'm someone who doesn't cry much for grief, but I cry for beauty and for hope (which in its way is crying for grief). I cried Sunday, and I am crying now thinking of all that welled up in me. I'm grateful to you and the dancers for giving me the opportunity to experience that beauty and pain, part of the dance with you all. Please keep at it. 

Evie Lovett

This weekend I experienced a strong surge of mourning and grief for the ending of the incredible Quarry Project.  It was not unexpected, but the intensity reflects the deep work and connection that we shared. The process, the structure, and the location allowed me to feel fully present in it all; the piece and the quarry had the strength to hold all that it is to be humans/together. I was able to experience community, joy, memory, grief, play, surprise, delight, familiarity, awe, and gratitude each and every performance. In general, I'm not very impressed with humans.  We have this incredible capacity and yet, so often it is squandered. Your creation, your radical presence, your persistence, and your vision created something that to me feels like hope. I am profoundly grateful.

-Nicole Dagesse

The movement of clouds, water, sound and rafts was dance in and of itself. Maybe a reminder that life is a dance in unexpected terrain as we move through time and place…

Loved the grey capes giving way to jewel colors or maybe fall leaves. Bravo, Bravo

Kathleen Shulman

As I wrote in an email to Amy, the project is still effervescing. That's how I am feeling it. And, the opportunity to perform for just about a whole month - just acknowledging how very rare that is... my goodness THANK YOU!!! I may never (likely ever) have an opportunity like that again and I acknowledge this. It was an honor to be a part of this work, this journey, this community. Not many words... just feeling deeply the things you can't touch, but know are truths. 

Alana Rancourt Phinney

The quarry itself…audience chatter and then quiet as Emily set the stage, encouraging us to be present. The stage hands threw buckets of water across the stage, turning it silver in the late afternoon light.  A little Christmas tree in a boat that seemed to have its own little story amused me. The stage of grey shrouded figures… slowly, slowly, meditatively traversing the quarry like an island of people … existential … beautiful … simple … profound  …mysterious.  I could’ve watched it forever. The occasional wafting sound of a woman’s voice as they approached that left me with “did I just hear that?  Is someone singing?”  The arch of the foot.  The mindfulness of movement. The edge walker on the far stage drew me in. 
The music…oh, my, the music.  Voices in dissonant harmony, ethereal at times, lyrical at others, complementing the dance.
The three women in metallic, sensuous…lovely movement. 
The women at the table, the swing of the leg as they got up…something lovely, satisfying about it.  The cacophony of pewter brought laughter to the friend next to me, delight to me
And then one stage with one in tow floats off with the single woman guiding it.  

Again, as the whole stage of dancers approaches us, coming closer and closer ‘til they are before us.  For some reason, as they come to a stop right in front of us, I am in tears.

Joey Corcoran

The sky was full of delivery coats, lying in puffy piles. The water in the quarry was without a ripple.  The delivery stage appeared at the beginning of Hokusai Said and crept across the dark glassy surface carrying a perfect reflection of everyone as upside down columns. 

Mary’s voice seemed soft in the heavy air.  The lighting devoid of shadows, revealed nuanced details as the stage drew closer. 

All of the scenes seemed as if behind a veil, softened in the grey light. 

I felt the absence of Claire. Sitting next to me but not out there. And when the table sat and drew their arms up in the “no room at this table“ gesture, I saw Claire there,  hesitating and withdrawing as she does at that moment. 

All of the sounds seemed magnified. The Chairs came down with a thud and I heard the Bed grunt and exhale as they accelerated. Despite its distance I could hear the House creak, could hear the footsteps and the swish of water as if everyone were just a few feet away. There were squeals as the Table dashed about. 

And then the drops began to hit the water but nothing changed. And as the rain became fully realized everything shifted. The mundane gestures of the band as they sought to cover instruments seemed both poetic and absurd. The rustle of nylon parkas ran through the audience. And as the performers continued as if nothing out of the ordinary had occurred, flocking into a corner that dipped precariously into the water, stage blending with the water, costumes becoming wetter and wetter, it was too much to bear. We laughed at the lovely absurdity of it all. 

The world had been predestined to unfold and unfold it would in all of its lovely little nuances:  Alana and Willow squatting to draw their stage closer; Molly scooping up a handful of water and holding it out as an offering while being drenched by the rain; the House in all their dignity being transported; Celia turning with her arms extended above her head as if to welcome the rain; Sofia walking up to Andric holding an umbrella over his head as Andric played on; Henry casually retrieving the case for the bass;  a thousand tiny gestures, one gloriously delightful ensemble charming the pants off of an audience who sat there in the rain, mesmerized by the way everyone seamlessly did what they set out to do. 

As the rain dwindled Georgia piloted the stages through a surface scarred by precipitation. Black and white cutting through grey. 

The last minutes of the big dance performed in the stillness after the rain, the air sweet and crisp, audience and performers having shared those lovely moments, now cozy in the feeling of camaraderie, up close after a somewhat accelerated approach, all warm and fuzzy despite being wet and drippy, a final burst of applause, everyone unable to contain their delight over what had just transpired.  

Leslie Anderson

To me, the miracle of the quarry event was the invitation to enter the space with the dancers/musicians/crew, to be the water and stone and sun and breeze…. For the entire piece I was entranced.  Analytical mind powered down and took a break, and didn't rev back up until the next day as I woke with so many images/sounds/feelings before me.

The program set the tone.  Like many others, I suppose, I was looking for the standard bios - but was so relieved when I understood the intent.  The water reflections not only eliminated the highlighting of individual achievement, it drew the audience into a feeling place, it let water do its work of softening and relaxing, and simultaneously negated any expectation of ranking in importance between dancers, musicians, crew, producers.  

The arrival of the raft from afar, sensed more than heard initially behind the geological time narration…. Sounds shifting seamlessly from more drone-like to more rhythmic, but never something so familiar that they could be dismissed rather than attended to fully…. Crew moving as dancers, not distracting from but merging with the creation….

The final approach of the stage with the whole cast standing motionless and casting eyes over us as we had feasted our eyes on them, was brilliant.

An overall impression of the progress of geological time, brought into the present.

Kudos to all - for carrying this through all its evolutions to its final form, which I suppose is still shifting slightly, like water, with each performance, as what has come before gives you all more to trust and create from.

Ellie Hayes

It was so lovely to see you and the QP community at the penultimate performance. Inspiring to see the years of immense patience, planning/work, and thoughtful art-making come to fruition. As you recognized in August, I felt mixed emotions of joy and loss, but ultimately am grateful to have been in the piece for a brief moment and then to witness it in its full grandeur.  

Chloe Schafer

The QP is still so resonant, as if the echoes of the drum and voice and chair stomp and foot stamp made their way permanently into my heart.

… Remembering our slow meander over the deep clear water and around the resonant granite walls, I feel now what I could not have imagined then, how your idea, your impulse, your yearning and pull to create in this place would come to be …. 

My yoga teacher calls mindfulness the ‘movement of moments.’ And that is what kept coming to mind as I watched, dealing with the urge to stand the entire time … so that as much of my body could take in what was being created as possible. The water beneath created such depth over which we floated, and I felt more connected with the dancers and musicians than any other dance piece EVER – not only in the umbilical cord of the quivering line connecting us to their raft, but to the water holding it all. So that when they began to come closer and closer, of course.

The simple gestures of hand on shoulder, hand on brow, hand to hand – that somehow get lit up in your pieces – as if to say – this, this is our humanity. This touch. These wild hands. This clash of metal dishes. This chaos, this rejection of each other, this coming together, this stamping of place, this long note held, this echo. This fiery reveal beneath the grey overcoat …. The ferry people carefully folding the garments, and then returning to move all of it towards us. You brought the poetry that bordered your program to LIFE.

Patricia Fontaine

I liked how supported and informed I was as a ticket purchaser going to a place I’d never been. I liked the emails I got assuring me I was on track and knew what to do and when.  I was expecting a much more arduous experience than what I found, and was glad to be prepared.  

The colors of the costumes, the costumes, the costumes were just breath taking, and the way they were moved about in by the dancers.  I will never be able to say enough about how moved I was by the understanding of red. 

I loved watching the water being poured on black surfaces as the grey ones were silently coming across the horizon.  Very satisfying to watch the black buckets dipped in and poured on.  

The arrival of the barge with the players in grey and Mary Bonhag’s perfect serene voice.  I was so grateful and relieved to hear it.  That was really show stopping – as the barge emerged. – parting the doors that opened into a greater depth of field.  Beautifully done. 

I LOVED the little motors on the rafts.  I wanted the rafts to move, and then to have them move with such grace and elegance, was deeply satisfying.  Thank you for those marvelous little motors. Thank you to the woman who drove the long raft out at the end, and stayed there in her position throughout the conclusion, as we stood on the shore celebrating and chatting.  

Thank you to the man, her partner, who clearly thought these things through with elegance and grace.  

And then, there was the rustle of the leaves that came up with the blessed breeze about 2/3 of the way through.  So beautiful.  That was when it was totally clear that everything was working seamlessly – when leaves became an equal partner.  

The clanging silver plates and pots…I LOVED them.  I adored them.  We both were delighted with them and wanted more, saying at the same time the amount of shining banging silver was just right, leaving me wanting more and therefore playing it over and over in my mind and getting more.  I loved those silvery shines and clatters.  

I also loved it when the dancers were so far in a corner the water was rising over the raft – Loved that.  And I wanted more, and was happy with it happening at all. 

I loved how the final raft movement was to bring the players to us so we could feel their presence, examine their wonderful costumes up close, receiving all the colors at once, and feel the magnanimity of the moment so palpably.  I wanted them to step off the raft and walk up the center and not break the profound silence.  To complete the piece.  Clapping was too crude a response to such a depth of silence and depth of field for me.  

Thank you, and the other collaborators, for all their effort.  All their vision.  All their insight.  All their commitment.  I’m so glad I received this experience.

Vicki Frazer 

I saw…flowing and stopping, of the water and the dancers

I heard…footsteps and wind, music and water

I felt…peaceful, warm, calm, and like I could sit watching forever

The edgewalking was mesmerizing … at any moment, they could fall in. The element of perilousness kept me watching, following, and wondering what would happen next, as the edgewalker walked on the very edge, wobbling and balancing, not falling but not safe.  Maybe life is just edgewalking…

Lyra Anne 

I’m missing the quarry on a deep level and I think I always will, in the nicest way. 
Sending love, Bridget Wheeler

What an incredible summer it was out there in the quarry - creating art, swimming, laughing, problem solving, embracing the unpredictable. The project pulled me outside of my comfort zone again and again (as I knew it would) and I’m grateful for that. 

Drew Frazier

Entrance is Epic, otherworldly. Humming and Mary’s voice infuse air with magic.  The delivery stage moves across the water so smoothly and quietly it is almost eerie, like a ghost ship. 

Molly’s dress in the sun knocks my socks clean off.  The House is more visible than I expected (You are seen! and so beautiful!), everyone else looks smaller than I feel when I’m on stage (the quarry is so big!). 

The shifting and jostling of the table and chair stages when worlds are apart creates a strange current in the strip of water between them that is constantly churning. 

The band stage starts moving in front of the big stage at the same time the delivery stage moves towards the house behind it. This simultaneous and purposeful passage makes my heart race. The rain’s timing is excellent. Audience can shuffle, pull coats out, and adjust to a wet reality, as stages are shifting, instruments get covered, ensemble is coming together. Audience and performers transition into the next phase in unison.  My chest bursts with pride and appreciation for our beloved Band, with their improvisational skills and good humor. You wordlessly move to protect each other and your instruments; you know what needs to be done.

The rain changes the texture of the water so much that the stages blend in. Plywood and water become indistinguishable and suddenly everyone is just dancing on water. 

Now I want to run out and join you. I want to be dancing in the rain instead of sitting in it. I would feel like a giddy child out there.

Be aware of how much you change in size/scale. For most of the performance, each individual person is so small, scurrying/floating/ rolling about as little pieces in a big beast. As the stage gets pulled in, everyone grows in SIZE so significantly, and our presence, intensity, connectedness grows in tandem. Let’s all feel giant.

From the outside, no one is visibly missing. This piece has so much built-in flexibility, it felt completely whole without me in it. I felt unnecessary. And at the same I’ve never felt more a part of something, so loved and enveloped. I am not needed, but I belong. This is what Good Love feels like.

My stomach is calm, the pain in my body is washed away. I feel peace, joy, eagerness to go stand among you all again.

Claire Cook 

Amy - I was pretty incoherent when we saw you briefly afterward!  Not only had my social-animal skin not yet returned to me, but it was extremely dystopic to see you not as a teensy cell on my laptop screen, and not as water in motion, but as a full-sized human!  I know that there must be a continuum between the lovely interoception/proprioception I experience in our Soma Yoga sessions, and the way the dancers and crew are prepared, and the way you all discover together what the dance will be.  I felt bodies moving and interacting with sensitivity and awareness.  Nothing is more beautiful, except for all of that being informed by water, stone,sun, and breeze.

Ellie Hayes

You carried such a clarity & light in your person, & there was something about seeing you walk around with Daisy & your clean & relatively hairless head just before the start, had a quality of calm & contented presence… what the I Ching refers to as ‘After Completion’, along with a strong look of readiness to ‘begin again’ - to move on into whatever is to come with gratitude & curiosity. Much gratitude on my part for you & what you bring into this world.

Vicki Tansey

I treasured sitting on the rock - just the right height - dreamily watching the performance unfold. Especially liked the bit of levity with the Chairs, plus the geese overflight, and the bravura music with echo, echo, echo.

George Little