V.
Intro I. II. III. IV. V. VI. VII. VIII. IX. X. XI. XII. XIII. XIV. XV. XVI. XVII. next
In addition to searching for objects alone, I have also engaged shopkeepers and friends in peculiar and refreshing ways. Drawing on the depths of a magic shop clerk’s knowledge of her toy butterfly assortment, enlisting the help of friends to dismember and modify stuffed animals, or chatting with Patterson about the objects he used in his own performances (one of which, the mechanical parrot, I have inherited) have all contributed to my concept of the objects’ identities.
An example of this phenomenon concerns the butterflies in ‘Variation V’. In the process of launching them onstage, I invariably lose one or two. After two performances of Variations in 2009, the set of metal butterflies I had carefully picked out at a magic shop in Barcelona — for the brilliant clang they made upon crashing to the ground and the clips behind their wings that allowed me to lightly clamp them to the strings — were mostly broken or lost. At the time of preparing my next performance in 2014 and wondering how to replace the missing objects, I discovered that a friend of mine had adopted one the butterflies I launched and lost in the second of my 2009 performances. Because we did not know each other in 2009, I was surprised to learn that he had kept it as a memento. He offered to loan it to me for my performance in 2014, on the condition that I take good care of it and return it to him afterward. I obliged, and we repeated the procedure for my next performance in 2015. Through this exchange, ‘Variation V’ has become a ritual of friendship as well as an instruction, changing my relationship to the butterflies en route.
Rest. Refuse to fly. Visit an old friend.