American Ghoul at Suite/SPACE 2022
Something was exhumed on the stage that night— what it was still haunts me.
Something was exhumed on the stage that night— what it was still haunts me.
Like a giant notebook portfolio or a crumpled map in the glove box of a borrowed car, the paper endures, holds the changes, shows the history of Sha and Sarah’s togetherness— and our witnessing of that togetherness.
Two figures approach each other. They could be brothers, countrymen, mortal enemies. In a world obsessed with borders, they are fundamentally different and dangerously similar.
Waves crashed on the sand and ambient beats wafted from the DJ tent. Rainbow flags marked a sacred circle on the beach: beyond the luxurious summer homes and expensive restaurants, a brave queer oasis for experimental art emerged.
Question everything. Laugh often. And be proud as peacocks, amoebas and hominids—you’re alive, and it’s June!
If performance is an intersection between the realness of live embodiment and the fantastical suspension of reality, then this is true performance.
I put my arms around the dry branches, sunk my face between the needles. I remembered holding you like this before you left. I remembered when we did this without thinking.
Paper. A tongue? A face? Hands, elbows, emerging body parts. Two bodies. Questions. Who are they to each other? Will they ever come out from behind the semi-translucent wall? Conceal and reveal. Discovery. Peekaboo, peep show, peeling back wrapping paper; pulling the curtain open in a stranger’s house to see a familiar smile.
A catalyst, a deep breath together, a gathering.
Fact and fiction, inseparable, blur and tease. Cut to disco ball, still swinging. Slow down and watch the air sparkle.
Created and performed by Holly Sass and Jonathan Matthews / BREAKTIME
And then, time reversed itself.