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Inverse worlds, similar dialogue. It wasn’t until I was living in the redwoods that I noticed something was off. Amidst bluegrass festivals and chants to “save the trees!”, there was a curious trend in the crowds. Surrounded by pale faces throughout my peregrination of environmental work, my fervor eclipsed critical inquiry into the causes we supported. Sitting in our yurt, we discussed ecofeminism while smoking pot that was illegally irrigated by white hippies, water diverted from Native American reserves. As

I don’t actually remember the first time that I met Julie, but I do have a picture in my head of sitting at my desk at the old CounterPulse, at 1310 Mission, and looking to my left and seeing her working at a desk that we rented out to Jess Curtis at the time for his admin work to happen… which was being carried out by Julie. It was probably late 2008. Soon after, I was casting a new group

An excerpt from Jesse Hewit's piece on Upstanding Others as part of the 2018 CounterPulse Festival. Originally published on SFMOMA's Open Space. Read the full piece here. The premise: Upstanding Others was an experiment that happened within the inaugural CounterPulse Festival, and it happened from March 12 through March 17, 2018. There were eight to ten people in a room (or series of rooms) every day for a chunk of hours, some chunks larger than others. Olga, Sasha, and Nina were

Excerpted from the original post “Musings on Unison” on online blog, Life as a Modern Dancer: http://blog.lifeasamoderndancer.com/2018/03/musings-on-unison.html Jill Holman Randall-Inside a work, what strategies do you use to perform in unison? Lauren Simpson- We make and perform unison a lot. We never perform in unison to metered music because it flattens and “regularizes” the idiosyncratic rhythms we create inside the phrasing. To stay connected, we have many internal songs we sing to keep time, like “da da da’s” and audible breaths

What is a body But a thing That we have made life into Flesh and bone and fascia Blood and gut and sinew Just things Lumped together In folds and flops Joints and juts Sewn up in a sack Of fat and skin and hair And we all agree It's a body What is a body But a thing That we make into something That we are told is something That we decide is something That we tell others is

CounterPulse is launching into a mind-bending spring season with a series of performances that activate cultural pluralism through human-scale movements and bodily resistance. In spring 2018 we navigate through interplanetary time as lovers and cultural vanguards. Kicking things off in February, the legendary Kei Takei returns to San Francisco for a rare three nights of iconic performances that connect earth and tribe. Next, James Graham Dance Theatre will tantalize the stage with Dance Lovers 7: Duets by Couples, Crushes, and

Combining pompous burlesque acts with intimate confessions, ,wild child" blurs the line between natural and artificial, authenticity and masquerade, reality and fantasy. The performer morphs from one character to the next and reenacts past encounters to discover what sexual desire is. They play with femininity and other gender roles to unveil the joy, fear, shame, violence, power relations and expectations that are embedded within our relationships and desires. ©Lydia Perrot If there is one thing I have learned through

Questions to Consider (proposed by Randy):   Who are your Lxs Desaparecidxs? In what ways has being in this process shifted your own creative practice, if at all? Where do you see the piece going next and how do you see the work evolving? What questions have persisted since the process began and what new discoveries have arisen? Who are you presence-ing? Can you tell us a story about who they are or what this place is? What is your

When given an empty canvas, I stare intently at my toes as I wiggle them, plan which wall to remove and couch to shift were the place mine, examine my palms as I ponder my life as written in wrinkles and wonder which wrinkle is Wednesday's. One might say I do nothing. I certainly do not make a thing. The plain sheet of paper with its limitless possibilities stares back at me blankly. If it had a tongue it would