My Subaru

for the past 2 nights, i’ve gone to see this company adapt the first 5 minutes of one of my performances from over 20 years ago–part of an entire production consisting of 9 beginnings of 9 performances by 9 different artists or groups who were connected with this gallery that once, but no longer existed in the city where I still dwell. i have such great admiration for the artists who direct this company and i was immensely thrilled when i heard they were adapting my work. i could never have imagined it happening. ever.

i can’t quite describe the experience of witnessing it. other than as ghostly or otherworldly. or maybe i felt like a ghost. or that some part of me had been excavated and reconstructed by some archeologists/artists at some time after the world has ended. Or maybe I have watched Cave of Forgotten Dreams one time too many, if that is even possible.

After the performance, they invited me to participate in a panel discussion and I felt very bad that I had to decline because I still could not hear from my right ear, and because I had promised the ailing friend who accompanied me that we would leave as soon as the performance ended.

So I returned the next night, hoping that perhaps I could find a way to adapt and participate, but the discussion was that one night only, so I sadly missed out on the opportunity.  But at least I met the 2 performers, one who was from Spain, the other, Czech. Both were amazing.

And the audience was so young. I have no idea what any of the works re-created meant to them. if they were artifacts or something vivid and alive. i was standing around at intermission, pretending to be occupied on my iPhone (which is a great prop for shy people)… and this woman approached me to ask if I was The Lost Pedestrian. I am often flattered to be recognized, but not always.

She told me that she was an anthropology student and, with my poor hearing, i had difficulty following her as she described her work and how it might connect to the performance staged that night and to my work of the past. And I thought she told me that she was exploring the body as archive in art, or the body in art as archival object, or the archive as a living body. If only I could have really heard her. But, I think she wants to interview me to discuss my experience of being a spectator instead of a participant in my work. And I know there must be some connection between that and her cultural anthropological research. I just could not wrap my congested head around it.

After the performance, a friendly acquaintance who is also a performer who was also in the audience told me that he thought he saw me on the highway on the way to the performance, driving a Subaru. Didn’t I see him wave to me? And I thought, that’s strange. I can never see the faces of other drivers on highways at night. No, I said, that wasn’t me. I drive a Volkswagen. But then I recalled that the car I drove ages ago, at the time I created the performance, happened to be a Subaru. I apologized that my ghost did not return his wave on the highway. 

At what point can one surrender responsibility for the behaviors of one’s ghost?

About The Lost Pedestrian

In my wanderings throughout the moments/days/years, I try in earnest to find the mystical within the mundane and the mundane within the mystical, oftentimes confusing one from the other. I have wandered and roamed through many a city, many a town, in a state of wonder and bewilderment, without necessarily going anywhere. I am easily lost, but eventually found. (I am guessing you have just found me). My sincere hope is that you will find Something in this warehouse of thought, memory and false memory, words, numbers, tangents, murmurs, echoes (lots and lots of echoes), voices, dreams, and other paraphernalia.
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