It moves without line. Without time. Quietly running, expanding and transforming, spilling through space, nourished by what was there before. Fingers and tongues licking red brick and timber, man and his story.
The spreading fire resists definition, resists language – an elemental force that cannot be easily bound or held. It feeds and it catches, further and further, gently breaking down old seats and structures, preparing space for recovery and renewal.
Its body is like no other.
We stand beside one another in its enormous heat. Growing tall in excitement, sweat and fear, gazing upon old faces washed in awesome light.
To pour softness into the place of hardness.
To offer tender flesh, smooth skin and find it cradled.
To hold a space for souls to meet and for our hearts to leap to our mouths,
for soft walls to be parted as our rhythm quickens and slows.
The sirens will not wail but those that witness will gasp and shake and dance in the ash.
Related Blogposts
Everything I have experienced during the months with Sisters Performance Method feels like rituals to me now. I want to name them as individual classes, to explore and describe their transformative possibilities and manifestations within the frame of a ritual. But they are all entangled and interwoven. They come from…
Good morning sun, rising over the astral body of an image – of the natural equilibrium between the collective and the individual. Take care of you, as well as you took care of me. Use, reshape or ignore the frame, it is only a frame for an image changing. The…