”PERFORMING NOTHINGNESS: a vocal meditation”
”I turned around to see the voice that was speaking to me. And when I turned I saw…” (Book of revelation 1:12)
Words pouring out of my mind, heart and soul,
Transforming into sound
And I know nothing else…
“Music is gone and left is silence. Yet a vibrating motion is stronger than ever in the silent room. The harpsichord player hurries out with his face covered by his hands, my whole body and soul are one and I am alive, my voice is silent, but the movement in me is bursting with an overwhelming force. Silence, sound, quiet, movement – all is present in this room. I am the center of NOW. In the middle of BEING. It is a moment capturing the absolute conviction that everything has been expressed, Sound is now embodied in a most profound sensation of existence.”
Since that day she knew
A voice called PURE.
Searching for its source
Became a need.
The source of Voice-as-Nothing
could not be separated from presence.
From whoever she had become.
It makes me both worried and safe.
You ask from where.
From the sun I will tell.
From the monstrous spirits.
Encountered in every corner of life
”L’azzione con la quale si dà l’anima, lo spirit, e l’essere alle cose, deve esser governate dal movimento del corpo, dal gesto, dal volto, e dalla voce, hora innalzandola, hora abbassandola, sdegnandosi, & tornando subito a pacificarsi: una volta parlando in fretta, un’altra adagio, movendo il corpo hor a questa, hor a quella parte, raccogliendo le braccia, e distendendole, redendo, e pienagendo, hora con poca, hora con molta agitation di mani: la Nostra Signora Anna è dotata d’una espressione sì viva, che paiono le risposte, e I discorsi non appresi dalla memoria, ma nati all’hora. In somma ella si trasforma tutta nella persona che rappresenta, e sembra hora una Talia piena di comica allegrezza, hora una Melpomene ricca di Tragica Maestà. Io la chiamarei la quarta Gratia, s’ella non fusse valevole d’insegnar gratia alle stesse gratie e il brio, e la leggiadra alla medesima
Venere.” (Strozzi,G. Le Glorie della Signora Anna Renzi Romana, Surian, Venice, 1644:8-9. Translation to English by Belgrano and Rosand in: Belgrano 2011: 36)
(“The action that gives soul, spirit, and existence to things must be governed by the movements of the body, by gestures, by the face and by the voice, now raising it, now lowering it, becoming enraged and immediately becoming calm again; at times speaking hurriedly, at others slowly, moving the body now in one, now in another direction, drawing in the arms, and extending them, laughing and crying, now with little, now with much agitation of the hands. Our signora Anna is endowed with such lifelike expression that her responses and speeches seem not memorized but born at the very moment. In sum, she transforms herself completely into the person she represents, and seems now a Thalia full of comic gaiety, now a Melpomene rich in tragic majesty. I call her the fourth Grace.”)
She became a symbol of Nothing.
I became a symbol of Nothing
I become a symbol of Nothing.
I am Nothing.
Double headed demons.
Opening their mouths
Wanting to eat every being
We were all touched by her presence. On stage. In life. As a being.
Infinity and clear cut presence performed in every beat.
And we kept listening.
We kept sensing. Seeing her as our selves.
Here. Here. Here.
If I try to fool you?
Why would I ever do such evil?
I am telling the truth.
And my voice
Is obviously the voice of a messenger.
Overspilling tears and laughter.
IT doesn’t belong in one place.
Neither in one time.
Voice was always different
in every one’s ear, eyes, senses.
As if made of microscopic elements.
It all comes through seeds.
Slowly becoming fruits of imagined contemplations.
I would never know in advance.
Connecting through the movements
of the stars in the sky.
All elements contribute to the sound of angels.
“yet IT is nothing, there is nothing in IT which can be felt, […]. In IT everything fades away, […] In IT, I communicate with the ‘unknown’ opposed to the ipse which I am; I become ipse, unknown to myself, two terms merge in a single wrenching, barely differing from a void – not able to be distinguished from it more than does the world of a thousand colors.”
In every place IT arrived IT spilled over into IT. steps, characters, sighs, beats, never-ending-questions-words-and-thoughts. Where it landed, IT grew into more-than-human-reasons. Reasoning became the only way to meaning. To truth. To Beauty. But reasoning as if un-reasoning. As if playing. As if working, as if resting, as if moving, and so on forever… cycles and further cycles, inwards and outwards and both.
They call me by many names.
The Fourth Grace.
The monstrous Signora Anna Renzi romana.
“Could it be true that when the female singer came on stage in Venice in 1640 performing her mad scenes, the rhetorical patters were ignored and reason had been left behind? Creating a mad scene, by going beyond ‘the limits of what is bearable’
“In Venice the female voice on stage was honored and glorified. Like in Paris. But the Pope feared the female emotions and banned women from stages in Rome. What did he really fear in the female voice? The female bodily flow, the sinful, the emotive, the seductive, or what? Would the female voices turn the world upside down and disrupt the power of the church? Or would the tearful singing voices touch what shouldn’t be touched? A mysterious forbidden touch?
“Of the five senses touch was the most ‘immediate’, at once resisting temporal stasis and having no spatial ‘medium’ between the body and the touchable world (be it in the form of objects, bodies, textures, or temperatures).
A voice. A body. A human.
A God/ess carries many names.
Only fools try to make anything reasonable about me.
It can’t be done.
Because No Body knows what will come.
Not even myself.
Not until it happens.
Now. Now. Now
Again. Again. And again.
“She found the line intriguing.”
She took it on a journey.
Leaving Rome. Passing Paris. And most of Europe. To the US. To Japan. To the holy Mount Kōya. To Kyoto and the School of Nothingness. She saw calligraphies flying as unreasonable balloons. Talked about sounding silence. About acting-intuition and met the soul of Nishida, performing the question “what can we say about Nothing” delivered by Barad, Yes, what can we say about Nothing?
Nothing took her on a journey along the line.
Curving. Caring. Corrupting. Trusting. Challenging.
“She found the line intriguing.”
An act of transformation.
A magical spell.
We give and take the many names.
We need them.
But what about seeing?
Revealing the unknown
Through our senses?
“Live voices from an ancient city
Will teach me about
Watching, tasting, smelling,
Running in fear…
What I will learn I will perform,
I will stage the lessons,
Make my own metaphors of darkness,
Touching upon others,
As I have been touched by the score,
Embodying the fall of Jerusalem,
Or any City.
From a monstrous voice,
It never ended.
It never stopped.
It kept on spilling.
Into every corner of his head. His ears. His toes.
His hops and chin.
Animating in continuous.
Turning and returning.
It is the purpose
For trying to define