Devin McDermott July 7, 2013 2:14pm to 2:44pm The ghostly Currendera hovers on the wall above the young woman dancing in blue coveralls. A bouquet of red and pink flowers sprout from the mover’s upper back. Slowly she tip toes across the length of the back wall, hands clasped. She falls to the floor and writhes. I wonder, “What makes you move?” Is it the constant image of the white faced, black sewn lipped Currendera that compels you? Duet with ancestors? Reverence to those who’ve gone before. “Is that your brown scooter”, the tall bearded man asks me. “Yes. Orange. Yes, it is.” I reply. “If I was on my bike, I’d give you the down low sign.” I knew what he meant as he gestured. “I totally love it when motorcycle riders, give me the sign.” “Really beautiful video and dance, isn’t it”, he says as I write. “Yes, it is. Yes.” We stand together in silence pressing our faces against the glass, peering in to the gallery, writing in notebooks, clicking Iphones. Slowly. Open arms reach out, up and back. Specificity in her feet and hands. Steady, grounded, rooted. A small black ink tattoo on her ankle. A hanger. Sprigs of lavender spread intentionally across the length of the four window panes. Black and white photographs nested among the lavender. Ancestors? Memories? Sprites and spirits accompanying the floating Currendera? Remembering my mother, sister, father, grandparents; all have passed. Looking back while standing still, gazing outwardly while nested inwardly, I watch her move. “Nice to meet you. My name is Brett. Have a lovely rest of the day” “Nice to meet you too, “I smile and shake his hand. I begin to breathe again. I come back to this life. He walks down the sidewalk, head down scribbling in his notebook. I return to the woman in blue and the spirits. I have no words interesting or profound. I watch them in weighted silence.
Posted on: Tue, 09 Jul 2013 14:23:29 +0000
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