Laurie on Stage

More than a decade has passed. We find ourselves drawn once again to this “delusional” bedtime story, woven by the master storyteller, Laurie Anderson.

On a Saturday night 12 years ago, we witnessed a spectacular performance. At the EX3 Theater of Contemporary Arts across the Arno River in Florence Italy, Laurie Anderson mesmerized the audience with a one-woman show. An incredibly creative and energetic performing artist, singer, musician, inventor and philosopher, she did not disappoint! “Normal” instruments weren’t enough to express her dream-state thoughts and feelings. So, she invented one: an electronic violin that uses special magnetic tape on the bow instead of horsehair and space-age pick-ups that make the violin wail like a wild cat. Laurie’s philosophy is expressed weaving diverse fragments of life into a political-personal-psychological-fairy tale performance. Her style is unique and we’ve never experienced anything quite like it.

Florence/Firenze

Following is the excerpt from a local newspaper, “The Florentine,” November 2010, which described her anticipated performance: “Delusion” is an eclectic multimedia show that brings together various forms of media, including video, music, monologues, and electronic puppets and violins. The show, which made its premier last February at the Vancouver Olympic Games, is conceived as a series of short mystery plays featuring elves and golems, nuns and dead relatives, fantastical unmanned ships and dark, scary forests. Through a series of altered voices and imaginary guests, Laurie Anderson’s colourful and poetic language in “Delusion” is a reflection on words and things, life and language. “Delusion,” a story of longing, memory and identity, makes its Italian premier in Florence, as part of Ex3’s New Musical Events.

Art Like Great Wine?

She has described her art as “of the moment,” and says that it doesn’t really keep well over time. While her many videos create a chronicle of her performances throughout the years, they don’t quite tell a full story.

We arrived early, as usual, to claim third row seats. From 8:30 pm, when the doors opened, people slowly wandered into the theater. In true Italian style, they chatted in the aisles, gesturing to animate their conversations. The l’ora accademia, (the academic hour) prevailed, which is customary in Italy. Performances and lectures begin a fashionable 15 minutes later than scheduled. At 9:30 pm the theater lights flickered to indicate the beginning of the show. Some obstinate folks continued to linger, ultimately fumbling their way to their seats in the dark.

Stage screen

A full-projection screen covered the back part of the stage, while two smaller screens flanked each side, strategically angled.  The 10 x 10 screen to the left resembled a giant blank hallmark card. The other flanking screen to the right appeared to be a security fence hidden beneath a white nubby tablecloth, casually  thrown over it at the last minute. A keyboard stood just right of center with Laurie’s strange electronic violin hanging precariously on a side hook. Then front and center, was a loosely covered sofa of sorts—the form looked a bit like spontaneously draped Halloween wax lips. Finally, completing the scene was a small platform toward the back of the stage.

The show began a full hour before Laurie appeared onstage, with a projector casting black and white oscillating pop-art images onto the couch—like a lava lamp without the liquid. It was undulating, almost nauseating. Despite having motion sickness, we were intrigued. Laurie finally emerged from the shadows wearing an untucked crisp white shirt, an artsy tie (loosely knotted under the collar), and black knit capris. As a final touch, she wore the cutest little sparkling Mary-Jane shoes with translucent soles.

Laurie’s violin

Laurie quietly floated her way to the keyboard. With a dreamy look on her face, she began playing several repeated chords while talking—and so the narrative unfolded. For 90 minutes, she wove stories, reading from her computer screen or paper notes, delicately pressing buttons on floor controls with her feet, while frequently launching into musical tirades with her vio-lectro-lin. With the latest technology, she made the sound of her voice alternate between ethereal, almost angelic and Darth Vader-like menacing tones. Several times she sang—her voice sounding like a strange other-worldy visitation. As she spoke, sang, read or played music, there were thousands of wild images flashing onto the 3 screens: scribbles on chalkboards, rain, blowing leaves, and other random dream-scapes.

Overall, it was an amazing, wonderfully thought-provoking evening. She was flawless and nothing short of masterful. With all the diverse ideas presented, as well as the sensory bombardment, we were exhausted by the end of performance. On the drive home, we wondered, “What does it all mean?” It was a performance that needed some mulling over. The pondering continues to this day—perhaps for the rest of our lives.?

We agree that her art is especially tasty “in the moment,” but find her message actually ages quite well—timeless, like a fine wine, better with every passing year.

What an incredible bedtime story!

Credits

Feature image above: courtesy of sfjazz.org
Video courtesy of YouTube
Cover of the Florentine courtesy of theflorentine.net
Laurie’s violin photo courtesy of Derrick Belcham
Story courtesy of our long-term memories

Related Music

“Nighty-Night Rosie June”—Another kind of bedtime story designed to take you into peaceful slumber rather than calling forth your most complex nighttime illusions/delusions:

 

 

Not so steady

We circled the flickering campfire as the balmy day gave way to a cool evening breeze. Quietly inspired by the massive peaks standing watch over the rugged southern California landscape, a momentary hush fell upon us. The day’s end encouraged reflection. Clearly this was a Kumbaya moment, with the expectation of guitar accompaniment. Our daughter scanned the scene and then asked her dad if he brought his guitar. “Nope,” came the matter-of-fact reply. “Why not?” she asked, disappointed. Em searched for the right words, “Because my hands aren’t as steady as they used to be. In fact, I don’t really play just for enjoyment anymore.” Iris’ tone softened, “I didn’t know that.” 

Just a dusty memory

Even without songs around the campfire, our adventure was still a delight as we made some sweet memories together. But, that lingering fireside question about the guitar triggered some reflective moments the following day on the drive home. For the past 50 years, we’ve written music and sung together, accompanied by a guitar—always a guitar. We were college-age during the folk music years and imagined that we’d just continue in that mode. The simple question during the camp-out prompted conversation that uncovered a looming realization that our musical form of self-expression is limited. At 71 years of age, we expect a dimming spotlight on our favorite pastime. Perhaps only a certain number of songs remain to be written—20, 15, single digits?

Life certainly has its earthly limits. We’re painfully aware of the ever-diminishing natural resources in the world around us. As much as we try to stay focused on abundance, there’s a subtle ever present thought that scarcity does exist. Everything eventually gives-way to the ages. So, the realization of personal limitations is not really a big surprise. 

For us, abundance and scarcity show-up together. Everything is defined by its opposite. Rather than deny the negative aspects, why not look for their value? How can we accept and even find peace with something that we interpret as negative? Acceptance, integration and transition are steps needed to embrace the whole. Maybe pesky tremors can actually point the way to new and surprising possibilities. 

Our path, for now

Our conclusion: We’ll continue walking our current path with whatever brings us joy for as long as we can. Then, one day an urge will cause us to shift. Maybe we’ll find ourselves being nudged closer to the next dream as Em’s once-steady hands lay down the guitar. That moment will be our pivot-point, when we turn from that which we love and have loved, to something new—perhaps even better. The essence of those curious inflection points in life is captured beautifully in the following poem, “Snowbanks North of the House,” by Robert Bly—from his collection called The Man In The Black Coat Turns:

The mystery of “Why?” remains, quietly hidden in the “When?” We remind each other to “just be nimble.”

Snowbanks North of the House

Those great sweeps of snow that stop suddenly six
feet from the house …
Thoughts that go so far.
The boy gets out of high school and reads no more
books;
the son stops calling home.
The mother puts down her rolling pin and makes no
more bread.
And the wife looks at her husband one night at a
party, and loves him no more.
The energy leaves the wine, and the minister falls
leaving the church.
It will not come closer
the one inside moves back, and the hands touch
nothing, and are safe.
 
The father grieves for his son, and will not leave the
room where the coffin stands.
He turns away from his wife, and she sleeps alone.
 
And the sea lifts and falls all night, the moon goes on
through the unattached heavens alone.
 
The toe of the shoe pivots
in the dust …
And the man in the black coat turns, and goes back
down the hill.
No one knows why he came, or why he turned away,
and did not climb the hill.


Credits

Title inspiration:  “Jack Be Nimble,” the 1800s rhyme from England. Good luck was ascribed to those who could jump over a candle stick without dampening the flame. May we all aspire to such daring and resolve in the face of challenge!

 

Related Story and Music: Turn Around