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The Storehouse: A Live Magazine [Manifesto Excerpt]

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The public wanders through a collection of rooms, each with a different performance, exhibit, reading, meeting, game, discussion. Their experience is not fixed. They wander without moorings, the way a curious reader meanders through the pages of a magazine, not knowing what they’re searching for.

How can we rehearse for a future we don’t have an image of?

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What if we define values, principles, and methodologies, resisting the pressure to define outcomes? What if we focus on what drives us and on how we want to live and work together, but leave the imagination open to the concrete shapes our collaboration can take?

The Fellowship

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The quality varies as much as the content because the members of the fellowship are amateurs in the most generous definition of the word — people who are lovers of something rather than experts or professionals who do something for money. That is not to say that their offering is something lesser than a “professional” one, but more like a home-cooked meal versus something from a restaurant.

WHAT TIME IS IT?

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Notes, inspirations, and ideas structured as a schedule to help reflect on the notion of time. 6:08AM Set your alarm […]

A Meniscus Around My Fingers

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The sun filters through and different hues dance on the table top and blind my eyes. I’m busy but I’ve stopped, and I run my finger softly over it. Its surface, as smooth as a mirror, seems to form a meniscus around my fingers and just for a moment I’m not sure where it begins and I end.

Wishful Thinking

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Wish-full thinking. It contains a wish, a hope, a possibility, a thought experiment, a fantasy, a “what if…”, the potential of the performance to enact change – political or social change, maybe, or a change in the energy of the room, or a psychological change, momentary or lasting, in the spectator.

ingat (to take care)

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that moment before something is about to happen where anything is still possible in between this is where you are stuck

Dear Joan

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A theatre foyer. Night. It is empty. The doors are locked. But if there were a woman there...