HUSK

our first LISTENING SPACE is next sunday

Listening Space - A Resource for Makers

with Luke Pell & Rachel Gomme

Chisenhale Dance Space 2011

Listening can be a valuable resource for making work. So often we are focused on producing ‘something’ that we have no time to sit back and listen to what is already here.

Session 1 ‘Listening to Yourself’

Sunday 6th March 2011, 11am-4.30pm

£35/£28 concession

The first workshop will focus on listening to ourselves. Using a series of exercises working with stillness, movement, writing and drawing, we will explore how listening to our bodies and our thoughts can open up new spaces and act as a source for ideas and creative ways of working.

Session 2 'Listening through Touch'

Sunday 3rd April 2011, 11am-4.30pm

Fee: £35/£28 concession

Both 6th March & 3rd April £62/£50 concession

Building on principles introduced in the first workshop, we will focus on tactile encounter as a starting point for making. By listening to ourselves, each other and the spaces we inhabit, we will explore textural stimulus as a way of enriching our practice.

Rachel Gomme is a practising Artist/Practitioner, Arts Advisor her work in performance and installation, focuses on time and process as experienced in the body of both performer and viewer. She is interested in the immediate moment of performance, and to what extent it is possible to create a shared space of experience between performer and viewer.

New Year Workshops

Listening Space - A Resource for Makers

with Luke Pell & Rachel Gomme

Chisenhale Dance Space 2011

Listening can be a valuable resource for making work. So often we are focused on producing ‘something’ that we have no time to sit back and listen to what is already here.

Session 1 ‘Listening to Yourself’

Sunday 6th March 2011, 11am-4.30pm

£35/£28 concession

The first workshop will focus on listening to ourselves. Using a series of exercises working with stillness, movement, writing and drawing, we will explore how listening to our bodies and our thoughts can open up new spaces and act as a source for ideas and creative ways of working.

Session 2 'Listening through Touch'

Sunday 3rd April 2011, 11am-4.30pm

Fee: £35/£28 concession

Both 6th March & 3rd April £62/£50 concession

Building on principles introduced in the first workshop, we will focus on tactile encounter as a starting point for making. By listening to ourselves, each other and the spaces we inhabit, we will explore textural stimulus as a way of enriching our practice.

Rachel Gomme is a practising Artist/Practitioner, Arts Advisor her work in performance and installation, focuses on time and process as experienced in the body of both performer and viewer. She is interested in the immediate moment of performance, and to what extent it is possible to create a shared space of experience between performer and viewer.

WAITS...Images and text from the work

Photos from Manuel Vason for new work WAITS....

First solo performance created for an indoor theatre space will be performed in The People's Palace, Queen Mary University of London, Mile End Road in early May 2010

_{this is your infected umbilical, the size of a small fist,}

_{this is the chip in your enamel from falling into the bird bath,}

_{the crooked bone and thinned nail of dropping iron weights,}

_{these are the golden beads creeping in your damp peppered brow}

_{this is you a new unknown quiet, in winter blue,}

_{you tucked, folded, curled in hummings}

_{these are scarlet angry islands rising}

_{coating every underbelly of your surface}

_{this is you hiding soaking from the white summer, your rasping rattling chest}

_{brown water and your potting belly}

_{this is the twinge of your paddle hip between plastic pincers}

_{this is the maddening heat of you pressing into you, clad in grey, refusing to soften}

_{this is you scalding pink, crossing, uncrossing, shifting in the corner}

_{your gentle sloping, slipping, your fixed twisting neck tearing and giraffed}

_{this is you lifting lace up around swollen drying humps}

_{flaking weary limbs}

_{the pause….}

_{the first hole in that lobe as you began to smoke,}

_{the tiny diamond where your teeth caught}

_{the white line of cutting lavender in the summer,}

_{the second hole, sharp inhalations, iced, pressed in hairy metal hooped well}

_{the dip in the shadow of your bottom lip and all those nights on knees in toilets after,}

_{this is you, all laid out, sweet pink tips pressed upon the cream, the tiny prick and buzz spreading unseen midday sun}

_{this is the shiny patch from the pan of boiling water,}

_{the damson heath weeping above your forced smile}

_{the tighter corner from the swelling,}

_{the half star from the glass mirror,}

_{you swooning, stomach knotted, buttocks pressed in clotting sauce}

_{this is you twisting golden hair,}

_{yanking to make rope}

_{you shoving, a shower of glass sparks}

_{this is the crescent at the end your brow shaped by slate wall,}

_{the glare of orange light splashed across your face}

_{a distant rumbling on the tracks}

_{the pause….}

_{clove sweat, rose trickle}

_{your hot clammy hand hooked around windpipe}

_{red LED blinking}

_{this is you dragging down ancient wood chip covered over and over with emulsion}

_{the treacle tear carpet fissure}

_{the crick from you squeezing until it all went black,}

_{the pause......}

_{before clambering on all fours back}

_{the grey thinness of really seeing,}

_{you smoking in the dead light}

_{dim green glare on your aching wrist}

_{the tobacco cloud about your head smothering panicked gaze}

_{the pause…}

_{this is you slowly crimpling}

_{these are your scorched veins, heathers trickling}

_{this is} you mapping channels, running just below the fullness of his moon

_{this is the brightness of you mouthing}

_{the going underneath}

_{this is your hair spread like iron soldiers along the pillow}

_{these are your lips pursed, dry, peeling}

_{the gulp twist as you try to draw in air}

_{and pause…}

_{rings on runners}

_{the ward darkened weight of this waiting space}

_{this is you husking}

_{gazing at a blinking city through weary corner}

_{this is you pressed against the wall looking out the other way}

_{seized by laughter caving into crying}

_{your panic as the door opens}

_{this is your pink TIP straining}

_{throat raw reaching}

_{this swollen creature lingers}

_{waits, for the trains to come,}

_{nudging not quite here}

this is you turning in the dead night, pushing at the window with salt eyes

your hot shivers

the scratch of heavy white against your powdering leg

you clawing

a weighing down of your chest

your dumb struck brittle ribs

your silent howl, shudder, heaving, coming and going

this is you here not gone

this is you yellowing

teal creeping through

_{the gold hoop, stuck, in the cold creases of your fingers}

_{the smell of you drying, the heat of you struggling,}

_{the gurgle of you going­}

_{the pause...}