Location: St Kilda’s Botanical Gardens, St Kilda’s entrance, Melbourne Australia
OS Grid Reference:
Date: 29 March 2007
Time: 5pm
Site: avenue of Palm trees

Score: Sharing Space - Margit Galanter

Description:

The first thing I am aware of is the length of the boulevard of palm trees of which I stand at one end. The feeling of being between these trees is so different to the feeling I get of being in oak trees, or even the figs here in Australia… with these trees I feel a sense of wisdom and history, support and accessibility; with the palm trees I still feel age but I do not connect with their support, I feel history but it feels inaccessible, like the sphinx or the statues in front of a municipal building.
I am not sure how to move at all. I breathe, I feel tense, I seek Anne-Marie, I know it will rain, the sky is very grey and cloudy. I turn to the score and find Anne-Marie at the opposite end of the boulevard. The first thing I find myself doing is making faces at her. Then on automatic pilot I am drawn to a common dance exercise we do together, the slow-walking often found in Butoh, and we both begin to make our way towards each other.
My sense of A-M feels confused and I am drawn to the grassy verge. Standing there I begin to dip my toes in the water, as if I were performing the Silver Swimmers. Overcome by energy I begin to leap and spin and begin to repeat movements. I remember A-M commenting to me years ago how she sometimes stops before she reaches the extreme of repetition and I vow not to do that, the gravel is slippy and I slide down to the floor, my mind intervenes and I pullback before reaching the extreme which I theorise would result in scraping all down my palms and body.
As I gaze at my palms I recall the imprints on our palms from the environments we explored in ‘Feet on the Ground’ in Radford, Nottingham, and I watch the gravel slowly tumble flake by flake to the ground.
I seek A-M again and discover the time we dressed as metallic birds on New Walk in Leicester, I fly down the boulevard and end in the eagle posture from my yoga practise. Immediately I transition back to the Silver Swimmers and sink to the bottom of the water, looking above at the sun shimmering above the lake, then as I rise I find myself holding the giant windsock we danced with at Beltane in Edinburgh and I billow around in a circle for a while. My memories span so many years and jump around with no logical development.
As I find the edge of the verge I sink to the ground, my body tired and happy to relax into the earth. Of course A-M allows me no rest and tugs at my ankle, pulling me along the gravel. This gives me energy and I find myself performing seventies disco steps up and down the boulevard, moving backwards until I discover I am stopped by the low wall at one end and I scuff my heels against it repeatedly before striking another disco pose.
The rain falls heavier and I make my way to shelter under the Morten Bay Fig Tree. Its branches swoop all the way down to the ground inviting touch, offering a swing and I find myself climbing, hanging and swaying. I feel as if we are breathing together in rhythm. I leap off and begin to dig in the dirt. I am transported once more to another time and place, this time a beach in Lincolnshire where A-M buried herself in the sand in a dance workshop with Charlie Morrissey. The scratching of the earth reveals the roots of the tree to me and I feel the tree may not like that so I re-bury them. As I lift the dirt I feel as if I am Anne-Marie with berries dripping onto her fingers in Edinburgh, I raise my hands and the earth falls onto my face, in my eyes and I simultaneously connect with the skinning of the hare at the Renga platform, linked to the tradition of being bloodied in hunting, and our insect performance at Traquair, I am once again the beetle, buried in the rotten tree stump, covered with earth and sticks and leaves, as I rise out I am the ladybird with long red fingers, clicking and clacking and forming dramatic Chinese warrior poses…. very crouching tiger.
I feel the time is drawing to an end and I am full of energy and love. I travel back to one of the trees in the boulevard and lean my feet against it. I look up and the earth crumbles into my eye, I let the tear come and wash it out down my face. I give it the raver’s hug, sending my energy up my body from my feet to my head, simultaneously giving to and receiving from the tree’s energy. The tree feels hollow, like a straw, it invites me to be pr esent in this moment, right now. The energy enters through my feet and comes out my palms, circling around us. I sink to the ground and kneel, in total surrender to the power of memory, friendship, environment and movement.

Present:Andy J Crowder and a few random park visitors

Any other comments:

This month has been so cosmic. I could not make up my mind where I wanted to dance- Sydney, Blue Mountains, Melbourne, Tasmania, Adelaide, so many choices. This all made it impossible for me to email around arts centres to find a local photographer. Surrendering, I decided to invite the universe to support us in this venture.
As late as Monday I was no closer to a decision. I was at a wonderful yoga intensive with New Zealand based Donna Fahri and was learning so much there was no room for these types of decisions. During the break a lady called Sue and I struck up a conversation. She radiated such beautiful energy, practically bursting with light, calmly though, in no way overpowering.
As I wandered back to my hostel I asked the universe for a sign of where I should go next. I looked down at a bench in front of a shop window and saw some yellow leaflets. I looked closer and they were for a weekend intensive on the practise of Dzogchen Buddhism, with a man who lives in Conway in Western Massachussets. I had met him at Tsegyelgar in Conway and loved his approach. It was at the weekend, in Melbourne. Okay, so I was going to Melbourne…
The next day Sue and I continued our conversation, and of course she is from Melbourne, only in Sydney for the yoga workshop. I asked her if she knew any photographers and she advised me to go to a café called 33 and a third in Balaclava. I had no idea where that was.
I went off to catch the overnight bus. I arrived in Melbourne at 8am and, attracted by being close to the beach I booked a random hostel in St Kilda. After unpacking I asked the owners if they knew this café…. Of course it was ten minutes away!
I went and introduced myself to George the owner and he immediately called his friend Andy. He left a message on Andy’s voicemail. At this stage there were 26 hours until the duet!
I waited in the beautiful calm oasis of the café’s courtyard for two hours until Andy called back. We discussed the project and he came straight down to meet me at the café. We got on with each other immediately and covered a range of conversation topics. We arranged the duet…. And the rest is history…
I am so grateful.

Location: Norfolk Heritage Park, Sheffield
OS Grid Reference:SK365859
Date:29 March 2007
Time:8am
Site:Lime Tree avenue - Lime trees (called Linden in US), in Norfolk Park, the park layed out in 1841 and one of the first free parks in the country. Large deciduous tree reaching 20-40m which produces fragrant flowers which attract bees and insects, can be used for tea, soft smooth wood easy to carve.

Score: Sharing Space - Margit Galanter

Description:
I’m chilled – its raining. Birdsongs, a tram passes behind, I’m facing North. Eyes, head, body follows a crow with a nesting twig, find a drop of water on a leaf and put it on my tongue, new shoots sprout from the belly of the lime. In between in the ‘sharing space’ I work with strings on our wrists and feet, balancing on the edge, in Brighton? between grass and path, you are behind on our imaginary tightrope.
The crackle of my mac inspires movements
the old man and his dog passes, we share a few silent moments.
At one point we just stand for a few seconds, you, me.
Blowing on my hands then running, these avenues make me want to run backwards and forwards in lines, and I end up curled, panting, pass you a small pebble like in a game – your turn.

Present: Jo and the man with the dog

Any other comments:Thanks to Margit for the score, it was good to have a defined place to explore in the in between time