Tracks to Clementine

Don't sneak in the daytime darlin'

(Sung to the tune of "Don't Sleep in the Subway")

All I learned on the news last night was that stealth moves are too obvious in daylight and that they who would move with such stealth prefer "the darkest night." Oh, and something about bleeding eyes. Today on the news I've learned that apparently the US has experience with living under a regime of tyranny and that France continues to be obtuse. Y'know. Like an angle.

A friend of mine was planning on going with other Protesters to yell at the Federal Building last night. We were talking about how it was a good thing it was raining, because drenched protesters make for better photographs than sunny day protesters.

The only time I've ever seen an artistic comment on political activity that was subtle (and therefore in my mind wonderful because I loathe "hey, stupid audience" beyond all other loathings) was during a performance studies production of Gustav Flaubert stories when I was in college. I realize that you may be wondering how "performance studies" and "college" made for subtle, but that's what I'm trying to tell you. These pieces had been in rehearsal prior to Desert Storm and went into performance right about the same time as George Bush’s January 16th announcement. (Side note: if I start saying "George Bush II: Dubya Goes Bananas," don't sock me in the puss, okay?) One story was about a woman and her parrot and the other was a parable of a man who forgot his roots and became greedy and powerful. There were no overt political comments in the parrot piece; the second piece would have been political by merits of text and situation, but the costumer added one specific detail: at the moment where the man is at his most greedy and belligerent, he also is the commander of a mighty army. The costumer put the actor in a Desert Storm uniform.

Sure, that little element didn't change anyone's mind. And not everyone who saw the piece even noticed the specificity of the uniform. But for those who did notice, the uniform added a powerful element to the piece, an element which inspired conversation and action to participate in other events connected to vigilance.

That is the form of protest in which I feel most effective. I find yelling in the rain far too depressing. I know I'm still not changing anything specific by focusing on artistic statements, but maybe I'm helping to participate in a way that is inspiring to some although, admittedly, useless to others.

I'm thinking these things because I'm about to go into rehearsal with student directors and actors at a private school. They had a community meeting this morning regarding current events and all teachers were instructed that structured political discussions were to take place only in Humanities classes (while acknowledging that unstructured conversations would pop up everywhere). So it's my job to evoke and maintain meaning within seemingly frivolous sketches—they're all David Ives pieces. Some of my students might not be there because they've gone to the federal building. I have to be prepared for the students who are there, to support them in their decision to come to rehearsal. To allow those who need rehearsal as avoidance to do so and those who need rehearsal as reassurance to do so.

Huh. Y'know what? I love my job. (I forget that sometimes.)

PS- Is anyone else hearing "Chaka Khan" anytime a British reporter says "Shock and Awe?" Seems appropriate, somehow.

Posted by Ida at March 20, 2003 11:38 AM