Photo: Dwayne Newton - www.waynenewton.com
A Wake and Awaken -- A Performance Art Ritual
We are carrying this weight together so we can all move on.
Putting to rest the trauma of the election and awakening our emergent selves for the path forward
SF Women's March, Jan. 21, 2017. SF, CA
Scores and reflections
from Jamie McHugh and Joy Cosculluela,
EAR to the Ground Productions
from Jamie McHugh and Joy Cosculluela,
EAR to the Ground Productions
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Jamie: It all began with an intention and an image, and one other person to affirm it - and from there, it took on a life and spirit of its own. From the time of the election until 10 days before the inauguration, I was still in shock and unable to square what had happened with reality as I knew it. The collective trauma I shared with family, friends and colleagues propelled me to search for some kind of meaningful, symbolic resolution. I knew I wanted to make the three-hour drive from my home on the coast to San Francisco for the Women's March on January 21, but also knew I wanted to contribute something different to this momentous occasion. Having grown up in DC during the antiwar days, I knew the demonstration drill - you have a rally with a bunch of speakers at a designated location to raise the temperature, and then you march together from that point to another location, and either rally more or disperse from that point. Along the way, there would periodically be chants - many of which had not changed since the 60s! The last demonstration I marched in was in NYC in 2009 during the Occupy Movement. I remember thinking at the time - how does this mass of people marching in the street and yelling make bystanders feel? Is it an inviting environment or is it off-putting? Does it represent the complexity of feelings and thoughts about the presenting issue, or does it simply remain singular in tone? I had a fantasy at the time of all these people marching together in contemplative silence. Fast-forward to early January 2017. The memory of that silence returned, but this time with an image - a funeral procession with flag draped coffins to represent what has died in the body politic. I put a call in to Joy Cosculluela, a colleague at Tamalpa Institute who I knew was making socially-oriented performance work. She responded with a resounding YES to my proposal, and what could have remained simply an image came into being through that relationship. We both wrote statements of intention, devised a preliminary score, and then put this information out in our circles to see who would get on board as catalyzers for this event: Our Stories: Joy - I am a Filipino immigrant. In 1984 my family moved from the Philippines to the United States to get away from the corrupt political climate under the Marcos regime. Like millions of other immigrants, we dreamed of a better life in the United States. My journey to create a life in the United States is filled with stories of struggles and accomplishments. There is deep desire inside to succeed, to belong, to find home. I have made dances expressing hope, longing and desire that immigrants be made to feel safe, empowered, and grow to become vital citizens who have many gifts to offer in this country. With this election and Trump coming into office, there is a feeling that our democratic values have collapsed. I feel devastated and afraid that millions of immigrants and people of color will be displaced with no regard for their humanity. I imagine a huge wall fortifying America’s patriarchal and colonial presence, things that I strongly oppose. By enacting this score with all of you, I cut through my sense of helplessness and powerlessness. By marching in solidarity with you, I am taking a stand for minorities and immigrants who have labored hard to make our lives better. There is much work ahead of us. By dancing today I grieve, I move forward and find ways to rebuild our home. Jamie - I have been attending demonstrations since I was a teen growing up in Washington, DC. My desire is to add something focused and powerful; instead of shuffling along and chitchatting with friends, or periodically chanting slogans, my wish is to create an ensemble performance ritual. The body politic feels as fragmented as the large swath of ice breaking away in Antarctica. I want to acknowledge and express my/our grief about what has been lost as a result of this election so something new can grow. The central motif is a solemn funeral procession to symbolize the death of American values punctuated by energetic outbursts. We will carry 2 life-size coffins covered in American flags, one of which is from my Marine colonel grandfather’s funeral at Arlington Cemetery. I take inspiration from several sources: Women in Black, who have stood silently for years in solidarity for peace in the Middle East; women in Italy who gathered and would collectively scream together in large demonstrations to oust Berlusconi; the African-American athletes at the Mexico City Olympics who stood with heads bowed and raised one fist in the air; and the whistle-blowing cacophony of ACT-UP actions. |
Overall Intentions:
Who: Open to all men, women and children (ages 12 and older) who wish to participate and agree to the parameters of the score
Preparation - Part One: 3-5PM, Lines Ballet Dance Center, 7th St @ Market, San Francisco
A time for us to coalesce as a group; clarify the intentions; rehearse four or five basic collective gestures; and individually express our loss, one at a time, through words/ movement/ voice/ silence as we place our offering in the coffin. Some initial ideas for the gestures included:
Taking our collective energy, weaving our group into the march and allowing others to join in
Everyone take turns carrying the coffin
Musicians play during the march
Periodically stop at an intersection along the way for a collective expression
Find closure at the end of the march
Jamie: Our first conference call a week prior to the march was a group of five – two others steeped in the Halprin/Tamalpa lineage (Shelley Richanbach and Sue Heinemann) and a community organizer connected to the Ecstatic Dance world (Magalie Bonneau-Marcil). Tasks were given, intentions were set, and brainstorms ensued. As the primary co-directors of this project, Joy and I not only delegated responsibilities, but also listened carefully to how people responded to our rough outline. What resonated? What was exciting? What was distressing? How could we provide - in such a short period of time - a sufficient preparatory experience in the dance studio and then integrate ourselves into the larger march? An early conversation with one catalyzer revealed her discomfort with my suggestion of cathartic yelling as one of the gestures. Other conversations revealed fears about stopping in place during the march, and misgivings about the funeral image. All these conversations became resources that informed the evolution of the final score.
We used social media and Eventbrite to get the word out. People were instructed to wear all black (with a white/colored armband/headband/scarf as a symbol of resilience); bring a tangible object (weighing no more than a pound), such as a written statement, a photograph, or some type of offering to be placed inside the coffins that represents your grief over what you have lost; a whistle; a flashing light, like a bike light; and optionally, an American flag. On the car ride to the city on the day of the event, I clarified in my mind four motifs to use during our procession.
Four Movement Motifs:
First stop: Place coffins on the ground, raise one fist in the air as we looked to the ground in silence. Stay in place until Tibetan cymbals and/or drums signal change.
Second stop: Repeat first motif, this time while blowing whistles.
Third stop: Pulse in place with the drums, and accent with a sharp exhale and a fist raised in the air.
Fourth stop: Bring hands to belly and heart with a focus on the breath as restorer.
We would then repeat this sequence all the way throughout the march (about 1.5 mile)
- To gather together and enact a ceremony where participants offer an object/ written words that express grief over what they have lost
- To acknowledge death and carry the weight of grief collectively so we can all move on
- To go beyond our comfort zone and move together in solidarity and community
Who: Open to all men, women and children (ages 12 and older) who wish to participate and agree to the parameters of the score
Preparation - Part One: 3-5PM, Lines Ballet Dance Center, 7th St @ Market, San Francisco
A time for us to coalesce as a group; clarify the intentions; rehearse four or five basic collective gestures; and individually express our loss, one at a time, through words/ movement/ voice/ silence as we place our offering in the coffin. Some initial ideas for the gestures included:
- screaming / releasing fear, expressing outrage
- bringing hands to belly and heart for breathing and eye contact / renewal
- blowing whistles / we are here
- stillness with fist in the air / the struggle continue
Taking our collective energy, weaving our group into the march and allowing others to join in
Everyone take turns carrying the coffin
Musicians play during the march
Periodically stop at an intersection along the way for a collective expression
Find closure at the end of the march
Jamie: Our first conference call a week prior to the march was a group of five – two others steeped in the Halprin/Tamalpa lineage (Shelley Richanbach and Sue Heinemann) and a community organizer connected to the Ecstatic Dance world (Magalie Bonneau-Marcil). Tasks were given, intentions were set, and brainstorms ensued. As the primary co-directors of this project, Joy and I not only delegated responsibilities, but also listened carefully to how people responded to our rough outline. What resonated? What was exciting? What was distressing? How could we provide - in such a short period of time - a sufficient preparatory experience in the dance studio and then integrate ourselves into the larger march? An early conversation with one catalyzer revealed her discomfort with my suggestion of cathartic yelling as one of the gestures. Other conversations revealed fears about stopping in place during the march, and misgivings about the funeral image. All these conversations became resources that informed the evolution of the final score.
We used social media and Eventbrite to get the word out. People were instructed to wear all black (with a white/colored armband/headband/scarf as a symbol of resilience); bring a tangible object (weighing no more than a pound), such as a written statement, a photograph, or some type of offering to be placed inside the coffins that represents your grief over what you have lost; a whistle; a flashing light, like a bike light; and optionally, an American flag. On the car ride to the city on the day of the event, I clarified in my mind four motifs to use during our procession.
Four Movement Motifs:
First stop: Place coffins on the ground, raise one fist in the air as we looked to the ground in silence. Stay in place until Tibetan cymbals and/or drums signal change.
Second stop: Repeat first motif, this time while blowing whistles.
Third stop: Pulse in place with the drums, and accent with a sharp exhale and a fist raised in the air.
Fourth stop: Bring hands to belly and heart with a focus on the breath as restorer.
We would then repeat this sequence all the way throughout the march (about 1.5 mile)
Jamie McHugh and Nancy Donald: Energizing and creating a collective body of participants
Photo: Joy Cosculluela
Photo: Joy Cosculluela
When we gathered at the studio, we had no idea how many people would show up. The East Bay Women's March happened earlier that day, rain was hitting the ground, and yet fifty brave souls trickled in, little by little! Sue, Shelley, and Magalie welcomed, mingled, and got the score going. Once people had arrived in their bodies and in the room, I worked with Barbara Borden and her drummers to guide the group in chant and movement to synchronize the heart and breath. We then sifted through ideas for chants, refined musical cues, perfected the gestures, and practiced carrying the coffins. After mastering our professional choreography, Joy guided us in the grief ritual. In her words:
Photo: Margaret Silverman
I can't describe precisely how it happened, but something in the air shifted when I rang the Tibetan bowl and gathered everyone in a circle. I took a moment to feel my physical connection to the ground and tune in to my breath. Everyone followed and a quietness descended as people paused to feel their breathing. With an invitation to remember what we have lost, I felt as though the room opened up to reveal something deep and primal -- grief. It was as if we shed an outer layer and a new body emerged. I saw people dropping down to the ground, releasing their weight. I heard soft sobbing, our cries, and words of loss. Participants placed writing into the coffins with tenderness, kneeling and supporting each other. I offered an armful of torn clothing as my symbol of loss. Jamie's chanting and ringing of bells helped us stay grounded and kept the meditation alive. In less than 15 minutes I appreciated how everyone was receptive, bearing witness to the unfolding grief. This ritual served as a strong container, helping us connect with people we did not know, trusting that we shared a clear purpose. It allowed each of us individually and collectively to feel that as something ends, something also begins.
Photo: Margaret Silverman
Jamie:
One coffin held our offerings of grief. The second coffin was left empty, awaiting what may emerge in the future. At the end of the ceremony, both coffins were closed and draped with American flags; and with bells ringing and drums pulsing, we made our way from the studio to Market Street to join the march. As we merged with the larger stream of the march, people took note of our presence and created space for us. Visual artist Annie Hallatt, carrying one of her large puppets, a twelve-foot-tall Black Madonna, led our procession with the drummers. At the very front, guiding Annie with the Black Madonna, was Nancy Donald, who later reflected:
The rain on her black face became tears. (I loved wearing my Rosie the Riveter scarf leading a thousand-year-old Madonna.) Our steady pace allowed the river to slow and eddy around us. When we stopped I was able to tell whoever I could: in the first coffin we were burying what is no longer useful to us and in the second coffin was all our hopes and wishes for the future. This is not a tomb but a womb. All people who heard this gave hugs smiles, nods and thanks for the vision. Standing in the front I could see and feel the wholeness of our group created by the drums and bells and the huge loving energy within. I see and know that our white isolated culture is starving for ritual of cleansing, connection and power. More ritual, spontaneous and joyful, is coming.
When we stopped periodically and performed one of our four motifs, people around us not only witnessed but at times joined in. Questions were asked and connections were made. At times, I would begin to chant the words from protest signs that caught my eye as we marched --- sharing the breath, connecting the heartbeat over and over as we trudged on. As Sue recalls:
Amazingly, despite the weather, with the incessant rain, people kept marching—so determined to protest what was happening to our country. The heaviness of the wooden coffins, the percussion cadence, the repetitive pauses—raising our fists, blowing our whistles, calling out “Wake Up, America!,” restoring our embodied energy—all these elements heightened a sense of commitment: I/we will not give up. We will go forward, onward. It was heartening to see marchers who were not part of our group joining in with our gestures and even offering to help carry the coffins—a confirmation of our all being in this together.
Rhonda, another participant, comments:
It was an honor to take turns sharing the weight of the coffin. I had assumed they would be Styrofoam, theatrical coffins and was unprepared for their heavy weight. It was good they were heavy. It was a profound experience for me and I am still processing its impact on me as I sit here sobbing. I was not successful in burying my grief, which I now realize is linked to the grief of other times. So many times I've walked and worked for change to renew my hope for a better and more equal democracy. My heart is breaking understanding how quickly our decades of progress will be wiped away. Yet, my hope was renewed during this funeral dirge.
Reaching Justin Herman Plaza, we finally set the coffins down, with a huge sigh of relief as we let go of the weight, and exhaled that we made it through the march. We gathered in a circle with the coffins in the center for our closure. What qualities emerged for us during the march --- what do we want to carry out as we move forward in our community? Each person walked around the circle, passing all the others, declaring his/ her words for all to sense and absorb: "Bolster, Unity, Leadership, Courage, Joy, Bloodfulness..." The drummers energized one more time as we all chanted "Rise Up! Wake Up!" Our voices pierced the cold air, calling out the fire within to remember this moment, urging us to keep going forward. We broke aromatic bay leaves, inhaled their fragrance for our closing blessing. We breathed in a grateful beginning.
A bystander wrote: When I saw your group, I immediately felt this very palpable different energy. It's as though there was a deep silence you were all carrying with you that was powerful and spoke louder to me than all the many voices shouting and cheering and singing around me. So for the last 10 minutes of the march reaching The Embarcadero, I walked with you. When you put the coffins down, and clambered the bells and gongs, it felt like I was witnessing something surreal and holy—like a Tibetan religious ritual. And then when you started to chant, ‘Wake Up! Wake Up! Wake Up!’ I was so inspired. I heard it as a prayer for the dead or dying parts of the humanity that must be in these leaders somewhere to wake up! For people who voted for this man because they relate to his pain body to wake up. For our numbed nation that allowed the conditions for a presidency like this to happen to Wake Up!! Thank You Deeply for Your Powerful Piece.
What I harvested personally from this event was a renewed faith in my fellow citizens. We gathered together peacefully, solemnly, exuberantly and passionately in defense of democracy. Moving in solidarity for those few hours reignited my hope for the future of the American experiment. This continued the following week when people mobbed airports to protest the Muslim travel ban. The emergence of an active body politic, feet to the ground and hearts in action kept the embodied energy alive.
From Craig Amos, who once counseled veterans returning from the war:
Even having built the coffins myself, I was not prepared for the effect the symbolism would have on me. I have seen too many flag-draped coffins in my life. Of the many reasons to dislike or disagree with a politician, for me the greatest comes down to their role as the keeper of the sacred ability to send people into harm’s way. Leaders take this responsibility very seriously. They have a conscience, and they lose sleep thinking about this. That it was a "Women's march" is significant... no leader, and no man worthy of my respect would ever treat (or even speak of) women the way this man has. I have worked for men who saw people as objects, pawns in their game of making themselves look good. These men often act in reckless ways, without consideration for others. They issue orders, or maybe send out "tweets" in reaction to petty things... more concerned with their image than anything else. I marched because I perceive this man to be such a person. It is not OK.
Jamie:
What I took away professionally was the necessity of more meaningful forms of mass action to not only inspire people, but to satisfy and nurture the deep yearning for connection with the larger whole. Anger has been a great motivator for bringing people together; hopefully, our shared desire for peaceful coexistence and social cooperation will channel the anger from these worldwide mass protests into abundant creativity. Use the energy of anger to get up off your butt and into action, but without falling into the trap of reactive behavior and mindless outrage that we witnessed with the Tea Party and the Trump Revolution.
These fragmented times of diminishing bodily freedom and creative expression demand a retooling and a re-envisioning of our social narrative. I want to encourage more creation and less consumption, more embodied action and less technological passivity, and a greater appreciation of our commonalities and less divisiveness around our differences. The time is now. Let us use our skills as facilitators, leaders, artists and educators to mobilize and channel this vibrant energy for social change.
Who is in?
Many thanks to:
Dwayne Newton for photos - www.dwaynenewton.com
Craig Amos for building the coffins
Annie Hallatt for the Black Madonna puppet
Marie Larsen and Margaret Silverman for photos and videos
