Questions & Answers
1997 — Burn The Quilt
Audience Reception
How did the performances go? What was the audience reception like? Do you
remember any comments or feedback about that specific work?
It ran for two weekends, and I was already halfway out of San Francisco in my head,
preparing to “disappear, completely” from the city where I had thoroughly had it with spinning my damn wheels into my mid-thirties and zero to show for it. Like today, I was saturated to death and in desperate need of a change of scene.
The show was not well-attended. All told, I played to fewer than 50 people if
memory serves – the show was being talked about but word on the street doesn’t
alwa translate into asses in the seats. I had learned after I ended the Animal
Ensemble after Beowulf Nixon in the spring of 1995 that going solo also meant
sacrificing 80% of my audience – no collaborators, no friends and family of
collaborators to buy tickets and fill the house. Animal’s Positive Christmas 4 was
fairly well-attended, but we didn’t pack the house as we had for the previous three
iterations.
The performances themselves were strong, and I felt strong in the work –
remarkable as I recall because of the incredibly compressed time for composition
and recording. The people that came enjoyed it, and one member of Theatre
Concrete who attended said that it was compelling enough to be archived for future
activists and performers. Slightly generous, but much appreciated.
The shows were designed for me to actually burn the quilt panel I constructed
during each performance in the parking lot at the back of the theater building that
fronted on Julian Street. Well... after the first showing when we all trotted out there
and I lit the first strip of the muslin on the Hibachi, enough white smoke was
generated to elect a new Pope. (Note to self: always rehearse the pyrotechnics!)
We managed to put out the fire and disperse everyone, and just as the last stragglers
left, up rolled a police cruiser carrying two of San Francisco’s finest.
“Excuse me,” one of the officers called to me. I turned toward the black-and-white.
“We got a report of a possible fire and smoke in this location. What have you been
doing?”
I replied, “Officer, we just finished a performance, and everything has been cleaned
up, I’m heading back to close up the theater space.”
Not satisfied, the officer gave me a look. “Are you sure you haven’t been doing
strange stuff out here?’
“Yes, Officer, just our standard post-performance thanks and goodbye to the
audience.”
That placated him. “OK, just watch yourself around here, we’re keeping an eye on
you!” They spun around and drove offthe lot while I took a minute to slow down my
heartbeat and take a few deep breaths.
remember any comments or feedback about that specific work?
It ran for two weekends, and I was already halfway out of San Francisco in my head,
preparing to “disappear, completely” from the city where I had thoroughly had it with spinning my damn wheels into my mid-thirties and zero to show for it. Like today, I was saturated to death and in desperate need of a change of scene.
The show was not well-attended. All told, I played to fewer than 50 people if
memory serves – the show was being talked about but word on the street doesn’t
alwa translate into asses in the seats. I had learned after I ended the Animal
Ensemble after Beowulf Nixon in the spring of 1995 that going solo also meant
sacrificing 80% of my audience – no collaborators, no friends and family of
collaborators to buy tickets and fill the house. Animal’s Positive Christmas 4 was
fairly well-attended, but we didn’t pack the house as we had for the previous three
iterations.
The performances themselves were strong, and I felt strong in the work –
remarkable as I recall because of the incredibly compressed time for composition
and recording. The people that came enjoyed it, and one member of Theatre
Concrete who attended said that it was compelling enough to be archived for future
activists and performers. Slightly generous, but much appreciated.
The shows were designed for me to actually burn the quilt panel I constructed
during each performance in the parking lot at the back of the theater building that
fronted on Julian Street. Well... after the first showing when we all trotted out there
and I lit the first strip of the muslin on the Hibachi, enough white smoke was
generated to elect a new Pope. (Note to self: always rehearse the pyrotechnics!)
We managed to put out the fire and disperse everyone, and just as the last stragglers
left, up rolled a police cruiser carrying two of San Francisco’s finest.
“Excuse me,” one of the officers called to me. I turned toward the black-and-white.
“We got a report of a possible fire and smoke in this location. What have you been
doing?”
I replied, “Officer, we just finished a performance, and everything has been cleaned
up, I’m heading back to close up the theater space.”
Not satisfied, the officer gave me a look. “Are you sure you haven’t been doing
strange stuff out here?’
“Yes, Officer, just our standard post-performance thanks and goodbye to the
audience.”
That placated him. “OK, just watch yourself around here, we’re keeping an eye on
you!” They spun around and drove offthe lot while I took a minute to slow down my
heartbeat and take a few deep breaths.