Annotations for People: Jaamil Kosoko

... but yeah. Improvisation is such a deep part of my current practice, so it'll be what it is.

Mm-hmm (affirmative).

Exactly.

Yeah, a lot of conversations, a lot of visual dramaturgy, a lot of ... yeah, a lot of research, a lot of reading. All of that feels like it's really important to do as we figure out, yeah, just like what is this thing? And then, yeah, then moving into the conceptual space and just making sure that we have a deep understanding of what's happening. I just try to do as much research as possible before entering into the rehearsal space.

Yeah.

Mm-hmm (affirmative).

Mm-hmm (affirmative).

Exactly.

The Negrophobia piece?

You know, it's something that I want to continue. I feel like everything that I do is on a continuum and performances just happen at certain points, depending on where I'm landing in my investigation. So it just seems like, okay, this is an interesting time to bring in other bodies to take witness to what's happening right now. But, yeah, it certainly is ... I mean, we're fresh at the beginning of this thing, but I've known Jerod/I'm a mess for, maybe two years now. So, just to see his career and what's he's doing with performance and yeah, I mean, he just brings like such an interesting flavor.

Yeah.

I think what resonates the most is the musicality. I think there is not only a presence, but a rhythmic understanding, again, that in innately black. Sure, other bodies are able to sync into it and maybe try it on, but witnessing that work, and having these choreographers in conversation with each other, on one bill, these are senior level professionals. This concept of sharing a program just doesn't happen that anymore for them, I imagine.

Yeah. I mean, literally, he was just in [Abisa 00:02:39] doing like go-going in [Abisa 00:02:41] for the past week.

So this is his life and then he goes to school and does a major shoot for W magazine and then it's like, "Oh, yeah. I can do your show." I'm like, "Thank you." So, yeah. It's been really good. He's only like a year or two younger than me, so some interesting stuff. And just this whole beautiful visual world that he brings to the work is just, I'm like, "Wow." What he can do with a paintbrush and a face, I'm like, "What? What?" So yeah.

Again, there's this wonderful opportunity to compare and contrast all of these voices, and all of these really complex ways in with rhythm and emotion, presence, fluidity, all of these performance strategies, that I think certainly rise from African people. To see all of that happening, I think is really rich.

I'm also curious about how ... Something about beauty and trauma, and the parallel of these two physic spaces, how they enter the room together for this dance. This constant negotiation is seen. That will probably be one of the strongest through lines that I would make. Beyond the musicality is this idea of trying to access this beauty, and be sincere to this trauma that is also very present.

How did you come to that language?

The work is very complex, beautiful understood and embodied. That's a given. The execution, amazing. In regards to the content, there is this beauty and this trauma, and this constant negotiation between the two. Yeah.

Totally, yeah.

Mm-hmm (affirmative).

Yeah.

Thank you.

Yeah.

Mm-hmm (affirmative).

Mm-hmm (affirmative).

Yeah.

Excuse me.

Yeah. I'm just dropping all kinds of things. I feel like we can't really have this conversation without being aware that, from the inception of what has become known, or codified, as this term of black dance in the present moment, this intrusion of the digital realm literally came and cloaked everything. We're existing in this post-internet era, and that carries a lot of weight, because that means that what is African American ... There is no African American, really.

Yeah. I think, also we can't have this conversation without understand that there's a lot of subliminal messaging that's being pumped into young women and a lot of young women of color in the U.S., from the moment you enter into the world. So, with this fear of being perceived in a very specific way, there's also the complexities of wanting to be desirable, wanting to be beautiful, how do you discover your own sense of beauty, one that is of itself and unto itself and not necessarily derivative of a European aesthetic?

There's global discourse of what can be taken and understood. I guess, what I'm getting at is how technology affects identity, and the way understand identity, and the way we construct identity. What is African American? Is in conversation with, What is Canadian? That's in conversation with, what is Caribbean? That's in conversation with what is African, and what is European and Asian? It's become very difficult, in the present moment, to cleanly name, because we are getting inspiration from this globalized identity. This effects, deeply, how young people think about themselves and identify, because now, whether I know an artist or not, I can see what Nelisiwe is doing in South Africa, or what Danais doing in Quebec, what Gerard is doing in London. All of that is part of my African American juice now.

Yeah, I mean so all of these questions begin to bubble up and cause a lot of really interesting, hard, complex self-questioning and a deep dilemma. I just wanted to sort of add that in there, because it's not as though this is a dialogue within a vacuum. There is all of these other side-optics that are playing a role in the way you have come to know yourself and to perceive yourself in the world.

I think that's really exciting. Even the way in which I think we make work has changed, because we have access to these archives, whether it be via YouTube or whatever. This is easily accessible information now. It's not something that you have to get in your car and go to the library to get. It's so easy to get this information. I think I've lost my train of thought.

My gist is just that we've globalized, and that affects, deeply, the creative process. I think that complicates how we view what is African American now. I think maybe in a good way. It's needed. Yeah. I'll stop there.

What comes up for me is context. Who am I in dialogue with? Whose eyes will be on the work? How is this work being framed? How does it need to be framed for a specific audience? Yeah, all of these are questions, which is why, for me, and sort of how I approach any project, I'm literally thinking about the site. I'm thinking about the weight, the history of the environment.

Artists.

That I'm excited by or looking at.

Or experienced, yeah. Oh, yeah. Also, did I answer the question about ... Yeah, I think I did answer it. I went into what was on stage. Yeah, I did answer that question.

And then I'm thinking about, "What do I add to that site? What do I bring to the space? What does it need? What has been here? What hasn't been here?" All of that becomes context for me in how I'm seeing, in how I'm participating, how I'm choosing to present what I choose to present. Which is why Black Male Revisited, as it began in Miami, that project, what it was was in Miami.

When you say experiencing, are these artists that I feel just a connection to, or ...

Mm-hmm (affirmative).

Black Male Revisited, Revenge of the New Negro, that happened in Miami, and it happened there because there were a number of perimeters that situated itself inside of because it had to push against this environment that's specific to Miami. And then, what it became when it went to New York and re-situated in a [inaudible 00:13:31], suddenly Revenge of the New Negro became Experiment to Representations through the Ephemeral Form.

Mm-hmm (affirmative).

Mm-hmm (affirmative).

Of course, yeah.

And then breaking this thing open for a number of other bodies to participate, and what does that mean to have all of these Brown and Black and queer bodies in a critical mass congregate in a major convening, discussing issues of masculinity and Black identity and all of this within a predominantly white, historically white presenting space.

Mm-hmm (affirmative).

Mm-hmm (affirmative).

Yeah.

So, I have to think. I can't help but be aware of the perimeters in which I'm situating a project. So continuing this thing, it goes to Miami, it becomes Black Male Revisited, Songs for the Dark Divine. I know I'm being curated as a part of a music series, so there is this idea of musicality and emotionality and all of this stuff that I'm thinking about. I'm thinking about surveillance and optics and how do people look at me and how do I look at them. What is a song, what is a song for the Dark Divine? Understanding how Philly can be super segregated, just all of these things play a part in the way I go into a venue and what I present. I rarely, if ever, am able to present the same thing twice. I don't know how to do that, because for me, live performance, it's living. And so, I feel like I have to honor the fact that this is a living thing. So I have to make sure that I've created each experience is of itself. There's something very unique about each moment, each presentation, that's different from what it was and what it will be. And so I think even for Unwrap and No Boundaries to be situated in Colorado, we're aware that we're pushing up against so much history, so much complexities around viewership of Black and Brown people, the consumption of those bodies.

Exactly.

Mm-hmm (affirmative).

Mm-hmm (affirmative).

Yeah.

Yeah.

Yeah.

Mm-hmm (affirmative).

Is about, yeah.

Of course, yeah.

Mm-hmm (affirmative).

Mm-hmm (affirmative). Perceived as black.

How does one begin to even move in the world and be ... Even something as simple as the altitude, so much that a part of innately ingrained in the environment is very separate from what Black and Brown people need to be comfortable in a space. You know what I mean, so it's just like a human being in Colorado, I'm like, "Oh my goodness." Anyway, that's some other conversation, but you know what I mean.

Mm-hmm (affirmative).

Mm-hmm (affirmative).

Some of my connections, yeah.

And not to say that we can't push against that and make space. That's a part of the resistance, that's a part of the work that we're doing is creating space where space has historically been misrepresented or for individuals who have historically been misrepresented or left out of a particular dialogue. But yeah, I think there are a number of through-lines that are happening with your research and how I'm thinking, which is why I think this is such a really nice ... I don't know, it's such a nice platform to talk about this stuff.

Mm-hmm (affirmative). Well ...

Yeah. Where to begin [crosstalk 00:17:44]. I know, right? Go. Yeah. I guess what I think about is this idea of, when you are in the company of blackness, or in relationship to blackness, you are less concerned being black or representing a kind of blackness, because it's a given. It's understood. There's a comfortability.

That doesn't become ... Like that thing Toni Morrison talks about, with not writing for white people. I'm writing for black people. If, heaven forbids, there are things that you don't understand, well, figure it out or ask a question, whatever you have to do. That's your work. My audience understand where this is coming from.

I think, as artists, and many of us have already, when we allow ourselves, when we are in that process of just being and not having to explain, or defend, or whatever number of other issues arise, as a product of creating performance, when you release yourself from that thing that's legible, which is something that I had to do if I was going to be able to participate in this industry ... I had to let go of any need of being legible. Even more, allowing my eligibility to be center stage, and to celebrate it as a complicated through line unto itself. This eligibility is actually what's the most exciting thing about this work. It's innately me. It's unique.

Sure. I think one of the first things that come to mind is the importance of travel and leaving my hub of making and research and that's very specific to an urban, dare I say, middle class, educated culture? I feel like there's a very specific way Black people perform themselves in Manhattan, in Brooklyn, in Harlem, in Philly. So, being aware of the performativity and how that affects me and what I make, and then, having the ability to distance myself from that, allows me this opportunity to become even more aware of that and to begin another dialogue in another environment with another set of questions that can only feed and inspire what I'm already cooking up.

All of that comes up, for me, as I sort of grappled with finding my place, and how I understand myself in this society. Making sure that I stay in conversation with artist who are asking these questions. Even more, asking questions that I too am curious about. Essentially, all of this research just pushes the form ahead. Yeah. That's what I have to say.

It only makes the work richer to know how these questions are being grappled with throughout the U.S. and the globe really, how artists in South Africa are thinking about ballet and European aesthetics on African bodies and the female body, as opposed to what's happening in The Netherlands and the U.S. and the Caribbean.

And I am fortunate enough to have had an opportunity to travel to some of these places and witness how this work is living on these different bodies and how we're all asking very similar questions, but the execution, which is the most fascinating part is what really continues to inspire me and make me ... I really light up because I'm like, "Wow. I would have never approach this concept of Black identity from this particular angle or this particular vantage point," or whatever.

Yeah.

Mm-hmm (affirmative).

Okay.

Let me just finish that gulp. Now we can record.

An artists who I've been following for maybe two, three years now, her name is Dana Michelle, based in Quebec, is doing some really interesting work with her own body as a Black woman situated in Canada, really pushing forth some almost [Butos 00:22:23]/performance art/ absurdist, clown. I mean, just the way these forms are just really intricately mixing up all in one body, all converging in one body. Again, this idea of how the Black body as a container for so many different realms, so many varying dimensions and ways of being in the present moment, this cyclical, just constant consistency ...

Mm-hmm (affirmative). You know, Gesel, this idea of legible, illegible, was a major point of departure for me when I was co-curating the spring festival in New York, the Movement Research Festival. We title it Legible Illegible, opening beyond the space of identities. That, as a platform, again, unto itself, to allow this opening, to say, is it even possible to enter a space without the weight of identity? Is that possible?

As a provocation, let's just put that forth and see. As viewers, as witnesses to this work, let's just attempt to see without this psychotic idea of race, having to bear it's ugly head. Can we do that?

I'm tripping over my words, but just this ability to be in so many different psychic places simultaneously, I think that is something that I'm super curious about, because it's a way of performing that I have yet to see, I guess, be appropriated by European aesthetics or ways of being. I have yet to see it. I'm not saying that it's not happening. I just have yet to see that amount of complexity be carried simultaneously. And I think much of this has to do with our sheer history, just having ... W.B. DuBois talks about this, this double consciousness, and then you put the female perspective on that, it becomes this triple consciousness. All of these consciousness having to converge simultaneously.

Mm-hmm (affirmative).

All the dysfunctional parts of our history.

Mm-hmm (affirmative).

Yeah.

Yeah.

Mm-hmm (affirmative).

Mm-hmm (affirmative).

And then so for you to put forth this proposal, certainly aware of your history, how it converges with the histories of these dynamic artists, historic artists, it just feels so relevant, so needed. But I am questioning, what is the conversation that we want to ... How do we want to go about shaping this thing so that young people 15, 20 years from now can look at this thing and be like, "Oh, this is how this really pertains to what I'm thinking of, how I'm moving in the world"? How does this framework create a kind of map that allows all of these folks to have a way to locate themselves and these ideas?

Mm-hmm (affirmative).

Mm-hmm (affirmative).

Mm-hmm (affirmative).

Mm-hmm (affirmative).

Exactly.

Yeah.

Exactly. Which you have to create yourself. Nina, as we know, she says it's no fear. No fear. How do you go into a space with no fear, and create from that place? These are questions that I'm really excited about, creating my own sense of freedom, the ritual of performance, the proximity of bodies, and the ways in which we create a kind of space that is acceptable to all ways of being, all ways of life, that utopian space that we want to live in, the sacred ability of even creating a space. All of this stuff, stuff I was teaching this whole week, which I think might have gone over some of their heads. Okay, whatever.

Of course. I would love to talk about that. There's this idea of time that's being curated, of generations. Like the time signatures of all of these works and juxtaposing that to this sort of intergenerational academic posse that you have cycling around this project. It's very thoughtful. Some of the leading scholars working today are thinking about these things and pushing your ideas, challenging your ideas.

I think, maybe, 10 years from now or whenever, they will come back to these same things. That's your core. That's the place from which you can really open and express, and offer something.

I love the amount of white bodies that are in the room, or self-perceived as such, because I'm like, yeah, you too have identity. You are not without identity. You can make work about who you are.

Yeah.

Exactly, yeah. Mm-hmm (affirmative).

This is not easy material, by no means, to take on. And so it requires a very deep analysis, and I think you've done a terrific job of bringing in some folks who are coming from a number of vantage points into this dialogue, challenging you, challenging each other, maybe even challenging the forum itself, which is, I feel like, sort of my role within this. I feel the way in which I'm thinking about performance and dance, I don't know if it's the same way as the way you're thinking about it, especially in my execution and how I use dance, literally just as a texture within a performance. The dance is not the performance.

Mm-hmm (affirmative).

Mm-hmm (affirmative).

Joy, yes.

Yeah.

Yes.

Exactly. We get so used to that policing, I think.

Exactly. It's almost as if our bodies sort of take on this ... Dare I say ... This may be on the record, may be off the record. What I love about David, specifically in the context of this entire evening, is this ability to allow the ugly to be present, which I think so many of us are afraid of. If that fears continues to rear its ugly head, then the work cannot be liberated, and it can't decolonize, because we still are obsessed with being beautiful on stage.

And so, the same as this idea of Blackness as a texture within performance, and not the performance. I feel as if I use Blackness as a kind of material, but by no means do I feel as if the work that I'm making is limited or restricted by me being a man of color. And I think I have to accredit the work of all of the scholars that are around this project, all of the artists that you're working with, you. I mean, so many people who have allowed me to be able to make work that is ... I mean, dare I say, radical? I mean, this is language that other people are telling me is it's radical. I'm like, "I don't think it's even possible to be particularly radical anymore on the stage."

That was something that I do want to say about David specifically, and why I was particularly attracted to that work. He allows the ugly in, which is truthful. There's this idea of truth, that comes as a result. Yeah. Some of the other pieces, they're beautiful, but I'm like, okay.

But I'm told that there's a lot of radical politics that are coming off of this work. But there's no way that I could even make what I make without ... and let alone have it be presented ... That's a whole other conversation ... without paying homage and attention to all of the artists who have come before me. And so, this project, again, helps me to land and to understand the conversation that I'm continuing, to have a deep sense of the historical and where I've been and what was and what has come before that has allowed me to be such a radical presence and to break so many rules.

Renny too. I fell like Renny has these strands of ugly that he's still fleshing out, particularly in that work that we saw. Me, I make work from the ugly.

Mm-hmm (affirmative).

Yes.

Mm-hmm (affirmative).

Mm-hmm (affirmative).

Yeah.

Yeah.

Yes.

Mm-hmm (affirmative).

Yeah.

It transcends.

Yes, which is innately Black. I think that was the other part of that conversation that I really gravitated to is the Black body as an interrupter. How do we as Black bodies interrupt this environment, the space? The history of performance, the history of dance, the history of Blacks in dance. And so I'm so aware of myself as being a deep interrupter. I'm not even going to shy away from that. I know I'm interrupting so many things and I'm making a lot of people very uncomfortable. Should he be calling a piece #negrophobia? That's already interrupting the kind of, I don't know, quaint sensibility that dance has a way of taking, especially when we think about it as a socio-political methodology, I suppose.

Mm-hmm (affirmative).

Mm-hmm (affirmative).

Exactly.

Exactly. Yeah.

All right. I'll see you tonight.

I hope I offered something of relevance. I always get so nervous [inaudible 00:31:43].

And so to just have, I don't know, the guts, to just say, "You know what? I'm going to take on this. I'm just going to call it what it is. I'm going to own the fact that a lot of white eyes are going to come to see this work and that I'm intentionally making work that is in response to Black identity and Black ideas and Black people. You can certainly watch and be a witness, please, but I'm going to explicitly own the fact that there's a conceit that I'm investigating and I want you to be a part of this."

"We want you to be a part of this dialogue, certainly. There is space for you here, but we also want you to come correct to this dialogue. So do the work that you need to do so that you can come correct to this. So if that means Googling #negrophobia to figure out okay, what is the history of this thing, to allow yourself to not be privileged enough to just enter a space blindly without any sort of sense of care or historical relevance to what you're about to lie your eyes on."

The act of participating in dance and as a viewer, as a witness, is an active one. This is not going to be a passive piece of entertainment for you to just sort of sit back and smile. Like I'm not trying to ease your sensibilities in that way. And so I feel like all of that, just owning, all of that within the title. And again, this idea of interrupting and being a radicalist and not being something that there seems to be space for now due to this history. And so that's how I'm thinking about it and what my role is in this continuum.

Black farms or Africanist farms, yeah.

Of course.

Of course.

Of course.

Exactly, exactly. And so we innately bring with us these histories. There is no way that we can exist without our histories, and these are histories that are super complex and hard and forces dominant culture to accept, or maybe not accept, but at least be forced to recognize that it has been actively a part of excluding, like actively been a part of excluding, which is a violent act unto itself.

So we have an Obama that's able to come into office and all of the weight of that and the politics and all of that. Like what he represents as an idea, as a man, as a human, all of these things. And then we see how suddenly, again, this ability to sort of exist in multiple ways, to have all of these different airs about himself, so that he can be the politician and stand and be respected and all of these things and then also be recognizable to his own community and not be perceived as a sell-out or whatever and be educated but also very much like the guy who could easily be living next door to you. This recognizability that he's bringing, all of these ways of being.

This is not about Obama, clearly, but I just think, as an example, as a catalyst for just how we're always in the process of being firsts, even in this 2015, we're still creating these firsts, which is interrupting whatever the norm is. Yeah, I don't know if that adds anything, but I just wanted to own that. We're still making history. We're still making history.

When we say this, are we speaking to ... How are you defining this? What is this?

Sure, got you.

Well, it's always important. It'll be important until the end of time. I think why it's important to view these topics through the lens of Blackness is, well one, it lets young people know that even as we create these firsts, okay, there is space for you being created. You will be able to fully participate or participate more fully in your humanity because these questions are being asked now of the present moment. You will be able to disrupt in whichever you choose or need to disrupt because these previous disruptions and interruptions have taken place. So again, this idea of being aware that we are existing along a continuum, this is not something that's just in a vacuum.

So that sort of addresses, I think, the societal question. And then, just thinking about dance and Blackness and ... It's twofold, because, of course, I know that this thing is existing with a lot of stereotypes, a lot of constructs, a lot of preordained prescriptions. So that's a given. But also, there is this rich complexity of experience and vitality and struggle that has lead forth to what we see displayed on the stage. And so again, this idea of Black forms being linked, socio-politically to larger issues that are happening in the world. I think that is the beautiful thing about what makes something Black.

Again, I keep going back to this idea of this multiplicity, but as a delve more into this concept, I just keep going back to that, this ability to do all of these things simultaneously. That's so rare and gorgeous. I mean, it's the answer that I keep going back to, because it's kind of on my mind right now. I've thought about this, but I'm like, "Oh, of course." Like, we can live in our joy and our struggle. Like, the two are not going to be separated. Yeah, that complexity of identity that is Black, I think is really excited. But that said, I do need to check my watch.

A quarter after? Oh, shit.

It's all right.

Mm-hmm (affirmative).

Exactly.

Yeah.

Mm-hmm (affirmative).

Mm-hmm (affirmative).

Exactly.

Yeah.

I think what resonates the most is the musicality. I think there is not only a presence, but a rhythmic understanding, again, that in innately black. Sure, other bodies are able to sync into it and maybe try it on, but witnessing that work, and having these choreographers in conversation with each other, on one bill, these are senior level professionals. This concept of sharing a program just doesn't happen that anymore for them, I imagine.

Again, there's this wonderful opportunity to compare and contrast all of these voices, and all of these really complex ways in with rhythm and emotion, presence, fluidity, all of these performance strategies, that I think certainly rise from African people. To see all of that happening, I think is really rich.

I'm also curious about how ... Something about beauty and trauma, and the parallel of these two physic spaces, how they enter the room together for this dance. This constant negotiation is seen. That will probably be one of the strongest through lines that I would make. Beyond the musicality is this idea of trying to access this beauty, and be sincere to this trauma that is also very present.

The work is very complex, beautiful understood and embodied. That's a given. The execution, amazing. In regards to the content, there is this beauty and this trauma, and this constant negotiation between the two. Yeah.

Mm-hmm (affirmative).

Yeah.

Thank you.

Yeah.

Mm-hmm (affirmative).

Mm-hmm (affirmative).

Yeah.

Excuse me.

Yeah. I'm just dropping all kinds of things. I feel like we can't really have this conversation without being aware that, from the inception of what has become known, or codified, as this term of black dance in the present moment, this intrusion of the digital realm literally came and cloaked everything. We're existing in this post-internet era, and that carries a lot of weight, because that means that what is African American ... There is no African American, really.

There's global discourse of what can be taken and understood. I guess, what I'm getting at is how technology affects identity, and the way understand identity, and the way we construct identity. What is African American? Is in conversation with, What is Canadian? That's in conversation with, what is Caribbean? That's in conversation with what is African, and what is European and Asian? It's become very difficult, in the present moment, to cleanly name, because we are getting inspiration from this globalized identity. This effects, deeply, how young people think about themselves and identify, because now, whether I know an artist or not, I can see what Nelisiwe is doing in South Africa, or what Danais doing in Quebec, what Gerard is doing in London. All of that is part of my African American juice now.

I think that's really exciting. Even the way in which I think we make work has changed, because we have access to these archives, whether it be via YouTube or whatever. This is easily accessible information now. It's not something that you have to get in your car and go to the library to get. It's so easy to get this information. I think I've lost my train of thought.

My gist is just that we've globalized, and that affects, deeply, the creative process. I think that complicates how we view what is African American now. I think maybe in a good way. It's needed. Yeah. I'll stop there.

Artists.

That I'm excited by or looking at.

Or experienced, yeah. Oh, yeah. Also, did I answer the question about ... Yeah, I think I did answer it. I went into what was on stage. Yeah, I did answer that question.

When you say experiencing, are these artists that I feel just a connection to, or ...

Mm-hmm (affirmative).

Mm-hmm (affirmative).

Mm-hmm (affirmative).

Of course, yeah.

Mm-hmm (affirmative).

Mm-hmm (affirmative).

Yeah.

Exactly.

Mm-hmm (affirmative).

Mm-hmm (affirmative).

Yeah.

Yeah.

Yeah.

Mm-hmm (affirmative).

Is about, yeah.

Of course, yeah.

Mm-hmm (affirmative).

Mm-hmm (affirmative). Perceived as black.

Mm-hmm (affirmative).

Mm-hmm (affirmative).

Some of my connections, yeah.

Mm-hmm (affirmative). Well ...

Yeah. Where to begin [crosstalk 00:17:44]. I know, right? Go. Yeah. I guess what I think about is this idea of, when you are in the company of blackness, or in relationship to blackness, you are less concerned being black or representing a kind of blackness, because it's a given. It's understood. There's a comfortability.

That doesn't become ... Like that thing Toni Morrison talks about, with not writing for white people. I'm writing for black people. If, heaven forbids, there are things that you don't understand, well, figure it out or ask a question, whatever you have to do. That's your work. My audience understand where this is coming from.

I think, as artists, and many of us have already, when we allow ourselves, when we are in that process of just being and not having to explain, or defend, or whatever number of other issues arise, as a product of creating performance, when you release yourself from that thing that's legible, which is something that I had to do if I was going to be able to participate in this industry ... I had to let go of any need of being legible. Even more, allowing my eligibility to be center stage, and to celebrate it as a complicated through line unto itself. This eligibility is actually what's the most exciting thing about this work. It's innately me. It's unique.

All of that comes up, for me, as I sort of grappled with finding my place, and how I understand myself in this society. Making sure that I stay in conversation with artist who are asking these questions. Even more, asking questions that I too am curious about. Essentially, all of this research just pushes the form ahead. Yeah. That's what I have to say.

Yeah.

Mm-hmm (affirmative).

Okay.

Let me just finish that gulp. Now we can record.

Mm-hmm (affirmative). You know, Gesel, this idea of legible, illegible, was a major point of departure for me when I was co-curating the spring festival in New York, the Movement Research Festival. We title it Legible Illegible, opening beyond the space of identities. That, as a platform, again, unto itself, to allow this opening, to say, is it even possible to enter a space without the weight of identity? Is that possible?

As a provocation, let's just put that forth and see. As viewers, as witnesses to this work, let's just attempt to see without this psychotic idea of race, having to bear it's ugly head. Can we do that?

Mm-hmm (affirmative).

All the dysfunctional parts of our history.

Mm-hmm (affirmative).

Yeah.

Yeah.

Mm-hmm (affirmative).

Mm-hmm (affirmative).

Mm-hmm (affirmative).

Mm-hmm (affirmative).

Mm-hmm (affirmative).

Mm-hmm (affirmative).

Exactly.

Yeah.

Exactly. Which you have to create yourself. Nina, as we know, she says it's no fear. No fear. How do you go into a space with no fear, and create from that place? These are questions that I'm really excited about, creating my own sense of freedom, the ritual of performance, the proximity of bodies, and the ways in which we create a kind of space that is acceptable to all ways of being, all ways of life, that utopian space that we want to live in, the sacred ability of even creating a space. All of this stuff, stuff I was teaching this whole week, which I think might have gone over some of their heads. Okay, whatever.

I think, maybe, 10 years from now or whenever, they will come back to these same things. That's your core. That's the place from which you can really open and express, and offer something.

I love the amount of white bodies that are in the room, or self-perceived as such, because I'm like, yeah, you too have identity. You are not without identity. You can make work about who you are.

Yeah.

Exactly, yeah. Mm-hmm (affirmative).

Mm-hmm (affirmative).

Mm-hmm (affirmative).

Joy, yes.

Yeah.

Yes.

Exactly. We get so used to that policing, I think.

Exactly. It's almost as if our bodies sort of take on this ... Dare I say ... This may be on the record, may be off the record. What I love about David, specifically in the context of this entire evening, is this ability to allow the ugly to be present, which I think so many of us are afraid of. If that fears continues to rear its ugly head, then the work cannot be liberated, and it can't decolonize, because we still are obsessed with being beautiful on stage.

That was something that I do want to say about David specifically, and why I was particularly attracted to that work. He allows the ugly in, which is truthful. There's this idea of truth, that comes as a result. Yeah. Some of the other pieces, they're beautiful, but I'm like, okay.

Renny too. I fell like Renny has these strands of ugly that he's still fleshing out, particularly in that work that we saw. Me, I make work from the ugly.

Mm-hmm (affirmative).

Yes.

Mm-hmm (affirmative).

Mm-hmm (affirmative).

Yeah.

Yeah.

Yes.

Mm-hmm (affirmative).

Yeah.

It transcends.

Mm-hmm (affirmative).

Mm-hmm (affirmative).

Exactly.

Exactly. Yeah.

All right. I'll see you tonight.

I hope I offered something of relevance. I always get so nervous [inaudible 00:31:43].