Play in the City 2013

I love hearing stories, and I thought the way Thaddeus Phillips told his stories were pretty great, as I was enthralled with his use of the space around him. The lights and storytelling were very effective, and I really enjoyed the performance. After discussing it in class, I loved how we were all talking a lot and reminiscing while attempting to recall all 17 border crossings. It helped us connect as a class, which I appreciated. In addition, I thought it was cool when he mentioned countries that I've been to, like Singapore, Indonesia (Bali, specifically), Cuba, etc. Sometimes Thaddeus Phillips would ask us to close our eyes and imagine that we were on a train. This made us feel like we were a part of the story.

I, like most of my peers, quite enjoyed the experience of 17 Border Crossings.  Although I found a great deal of critical play in the performance commenting on the political and social natures of national and cultural boundaries, I found deep play lacking.  I can easily see how Phillips or his co-creators might feel deep play during the writing and performance, but as an audience member, I experienced no intense emotional and ‘ecstatic’ moments.  The nature of the performance was more critical with moments of humor than moving and deep.  Nonetheless, the well-thought out and amazingly-executed script was delightful.  He took an incredibly dull activity (i.e. having a passport checked), and portrayed it in so many different ways as to make it interesting.

PS. We never talked about this, but I really loved how he started the whole thing by trying to destroy his passport, which is the object which facilitated his entire journey.

"In oder to understand the meaning of artistic products, we have to forget them for a time" suggested by Dewey. 17 broder crossing is a play that expresses art but more importantly, it enlightens me to think out of what is "art", and to turn originall experience into artistic view. 17 expeiences in broder crossing form a fantasctic play. When he crosses the broder to Brasil and said " Oh! I am in Brazil now", I found that in my own experience, I ignore the fact that the concept of "broder" is that clear and special. That's art, which comes from our raw experience which asks for conciousness for our daily-life. Also, it's easy to find deep-play in 17 broder crossings- although the crossings are risky and dangerous (for example, they caught "taxi" to Cuba and people put their lives in danger just want to escape from Mexico ..), he still didn't listen to the U.S officer who suggested:" then, don't travel." He is still pursueing the colorful experience, which, as I have said, is art itself. So, maybe deep play can generate art after all with those unforgettable thrill, ecstacy and stackes. Becasue of deep-play, people have the access to the special life experiences and turn them into art. In other words, deep-play is the process prerequisted to creating arts.

It is the middle of summer at music camp. About 60 instruments are outside soaking in the open muggy air, wood expanding, and increasing their potential to crack. Before my quartet walks onto stage, we notice that our quartet teacher had somehow obtained our music and drawn cats and smiley faces all over it. This was supposed to encourage us to smile and interact more as we play. Once we had all sat down, adjusted our music, and right before we were about to play, we all turned to our teacher in the audience and forcibly smiled and purred at her. The next moment we started playing. All of us went in a circle and played our opening solos, we looked at each other right before our cues, and when we had parallel lines. The technical aspects of how to play were gone, and we connected by talking to each other through listening to each other’s music and responding.

From the audience’s perspective our quartet probably looked strange, smiling and making noises at the crowd before playing, and the way we played compared to a professional recording of Beethoven was not impressive. Then from a further removed perspective, playing quartets serves no practical purpose in the sustainment of life. However, from the inside, this moment was really moving to me because of the connection I made with my quartet members and the music.

            As I walked through the cell blocks and out in the prison yard at Eastern State Penitentiary last weekend, I could feel the weight of the prison’s past coming down on me. Being inside those walls felt like being in a whole different universe, I felt disconnected from not only the immediate surroundings of the prison, but also from my own life and experiences. With every step I took I distanced myself farther and farther from myself and moved closer and closer to a timeless state of contemplation and inner peace. Standing inside the cell I felt trapped initially thinking of the hole in the wall where the door would once was as if the door still remained and I truly was contained in the cell. However, as time went on I no longer felt this sense of being trapped in the cell in the same sense, I was able to spend the time with myself and my surroundings. The walls whispered stories to me through the cracks and the dust on the floor filling the silence with the sounds of their past and mine. Looking out the narrow window in the back of the cell I was transported back in time it seemed, able to feel the prison as it was back when it’s cells were still filled.

For some riding horses is an occasional experience that they may explain as exhilarating or even as “deep play,” however for someone who rides horses on a regular basis it has become a part of my routine, and those special and fleeting moments defined as deep play are very rare, but also very powerful. I can remember one evening in particular when I had decided that I wanted to get a quick ride in despite the fact that the sun would be setting soon. I knew I would not have enough time to tack up before the sunset, so I took my old horse Lacey out of her stall, quickly brushed her off, grabbed a helmet, and walked down to the arena. I often ride bareback, but for some reason this time was better than any of the others. Riding with only a halter and lead rope, I felt synced into my horse, and I knew that the strong trust and connection between us on this ride was special, and would be a fleeting moment in time. After I asked her lightly with my leg to pick up a gallop and we were flying, putting me into a state of euphoria and understanding. In this moment of deep play I was very aware of how exceptional this time was, and this realization made me so appreciative of this time, because I knew it would be over soon. I have only had about five rides in my life that were this special, and I treasure all of them and keep them close to my heart.

Jessica Bernal

ESEM- Play in the City

The Host

“¡Mija! No no no, you’re not moving your hips, you’re not doing it right.” Usa tus caderas, use your hips. Family gatherings, dinners, parties, whatever you would like to call it, they were nothing without the cumbia, merengue, and bachata music playing in the background. All the worries were left at the doorstep the moment the music blared through the speakers. I’m sitting in the corner of the room, watching as they turn the living room into the dance floor. All the tables we just finished eating dinner on are being folded and stored away, making room for the moment of the night. The moment we all come together and shake it out. There’s no need for alcohol or drugs when you’re high with overwhelming emotion of the rhythm taking over your body.

My legs are jittering in place screaming let me get in there let me shuffle. I can feel the drums, the electric piano, and the shakers, all of it coming together creating this beautiful rhythm taking over my body to the point where the music hosts my body. Deep play is something intimate and exclusive to the individual. It’s a moment of self-indulgence and complete euphoria. When I’m dancing cumbia, I get an overflowing feeling of tingles running from my toes to my arms wanting to prance out of my seat and sway my hips to the rhythm of the music.

I.

Transcription of deeper meaning is so inadequate.  Unalterably uninterestingly incapable of capturing my true intention.  As if pouring out the most important, memorable, inexplicable moments of my life should easily flow from my fingertips onto the page.  Inability halts my progress but so too does my unwillingness to progress, to write down the personal instances of absolute understanding.  These are my spiritual beliefs; this is my religion.  It is not part of a holy book, a scripture written down long ago in the fleeting, ephemeral and already dying past.  It lives and breathes and insists on secrecy.  Because inclusivity would lead to nothing but misunderstanding; Misinterpretation of the profound intensity that permeates a select few of my most treasured memories.

So…no.  I will not be handing over a description of my “ecstasy”, because it would only be judged.  The intention behind the request and reading of my text simply does not matter because there is no such thing as a truly open mind.  Each perception is colored by the myriad of experiences that influence your every living moment.  There is no escape from the inevitable evaluation of my hard-won wisdom.  A biased measurement of the truth of my words as filtered through your inadequate understanding.  The psyche of the reader and the writer simply do not mesh as one might wish them to, and they each struggle vainly to understand and to make themselves understood.

I have been to many of the traveling Titanic exhibits.  Different museums, different cities, even in different states.  Never before had I had this type of experience.

It was at the Franklin Institute in Philadelphia and my family had a membership there so we had the opportunity to go to a special showing of the exhibit before it officially opened the next day.  We got there Friday night to a special reception in the Institute’s atrium, complete with actors and food that would have been served on the boat.  We mingled for a bit and talked to the actors and then it was our time to enter the exhibit.