what's your insecurity subtext?

aerial view

these grooves are deep - december 9, 2011 - tucson, az

i didn't kill her!!!

i didn't kill kid paris! i hid her (like in a closet somewhere...). to protect her.

she needs permission to come out. she needs to know its safe. i just have to give her permission...

(and the process continues...)

!!!

(re)found: ballet / summer / scorpion jellies

(re)found: mall performances

(re)found: saturday morning spot

re(found): duke drive

the street i grew up on.

(re)found: the desert

a hike with one of my oldest, dearest friends during this residency.

(re)found: my stats

do i feel shame around this?
yes.
do i want to?
no.

step one: acknowledge her existence.

(re)found: ruby slippers

my great aunt's shoes - altered by my mother with spray paint and sequins.

ruby slippers.
as in dorothy's shoes.
as in the wizard of oz.

these grooves are deep: the installation

an exploration and physical mapping of well-worn pathways in the brain. traveled through a meditative labyrinth walk, the map investigates the points of intersection and physical/emotional/mental effects of past on present, mind on body, body on mind.

a single string, over 1.5 miles long.
25 9" gutter nails.
25 sentiments/states/feelings/qualities/internal realities/relationships...














day 7 of the residency:
testing. to see what sort of stakes were needed.

day 8:
hammer in the points.

day 9:
walk. light. show.

i moved intuitively through the map, starting at OPEN. for the first hour or so, i focused on deep connections - well worn pathways - traveling between 2 points many times before refocusing on another connection. as the afternoon progressed, i tried to move through the map in broader strokes, connecting each point to a new point. i didn't have a determined point of end - the length of the string and how i intuitively traveled would dictate. i ended on (self) LIBERATED.

i should mention that the map was constructed in my parent's back yard.
this is not a house i have ever lived in.

i invited a small handful of people from my past to an open house that evening. these were relationships of all sorts - the lifelong close yet distant, the best friend, the former musical partner, the middle school bully...

the open house took place in the dark. i lit 100 tea candles and placed them throughout the map, inviting those who came to walk through at their leisure. i walked through too - answering questions, listening to individual commentaries.

at the end of the night there were 3 candles still lit - 2 at places intended to light string, 1 at the point: FEAR.

these grooves are deep: the residency

i have just returned from a 10-day residency in my hometown - tucson, az - spent excavating artifacts and relationships of my past.

i knew i had done a lot as a child - but the memories i have been letting myself access over the last 10 years barely reflected a mere sliver of that reality. i had blocked tucson paris out almost entirely. i had blocked child paris out almost entirely.

i rescued her just in time...

boxes upon boxes of photos, dance costumes, print ads i modeled for, hand bills of shows i acted in, cassette tapes of me singing and playing violin - practicing, performing...

i went to the dentist.
i got an eye exam.
i went to the mall because it was what my brother deeply wanted to do.
i had "christmas" with my family for the first time in 7 years.
i cried.
i counseled.
i listened.
i reminisced.
i played. (not like "playing" the violin - like "played" as in "playing" - you know, having fun, being childlike.)
i studied. myself, my past, my family, my former environment...

i also spent a lot of time interviewing my mother - about herself, about her past, about our extended family (who i am pretty disconnected from), about me and my past...

the residency culminated in an installation created (and left) in my parent's back yard - a mind map traveled - through creation - as a meditative labyrinth walk, shared by candlelight with figures of my past.

artifacts gathered and all discovered/uncovered/integrated will inform a subsequent performative installation, IDENTITY/PERSONA: symbols of the self (?), which will be developed and presented in a residency at PROJECT: space available in january/february 2012.

the 70's...

parents before they became parents.

coin collection (revealed)

my father's...

family portrait

does anyone's family ever change...?

theese grooves are deep

i am currently in tucson, arizona - where i spent the first 17 years of my life. this time, i have come back not only to see family and the small handful of friends i'm still in contact with, but to embark on an excavation of my past, my former self. there's seattle paris, and then there's tucson paris. they've never quite found a way to co-exist. seattle paris really hasn't liked tucson paris...she's been embarrassed and ashamed of her. deeply, actually. seattle paris resents tucson paris for growing up with a tv as her closest companion. seattle paris is embarrassed by tucson paris' years spent training in the art of regurgitation and 'perfection' vs. cultivating creativity and self generated creation. seattle paris ran away from tucson paris, nearly blocking out her entire existence in the process. it's time to re-find her. face her. accept her. love her.

THESE GROOVES ARE DEEP: an exploration and physical mapping of well-worn pathways in the brain of sound/physical artist, paris hurley. traveled through a meditative labyrinth walk, the map will investigate the points of intersection and physical/emotional/mental effects of past on present, mind on body, body on mind. december 1-10, 2011.

battle wounds

there is no substitute for time with chad

a few nights ago i had the great fortune of experiencing a work in progress showing of faye driscoll's latest piece: NOT...NOT. exploring definition(s) of beauty, investigating transformation through performance and the "slippage of the self"...all exquisitely communicated, so very satiating and right 'up my alley' - yet, the most powerful gift i took away from this experience was the reminder of the importance of time spent in the practice of your process...

i was so taken by faye and her counterpart, jesse zaritt's abilities to execute incredibly detailed, hyper-choreographed movements, expressions, sentiments, emotions...with striking precision while maintaining a feeling of real, unrehearsed, improvised. at one point during the piece, they faced each other wearing identical wigs and proceed to mirror each movement, expression, sentiment, even sound, as if one.

during the feedback / discussion part of the evening, someone asked faye about her relationship to these objects (referring to the pile of food, scarves, glasses, wigs, clothing, hats, and other miscellaneous items that had been utilized in various ways during the performance). she started by picking up one of the wigs from the mirrored duo saying, "well, there's chad...sometimes we spend a lot of time in chad...we can spend an hour in chad...sometimes it gets pretty weird!"

(she is incredibly charming on top of it all...)

this got me thinking about where i am in my process as a creator - as a generative artist - and especially where movement and non-violin dominant things are concerned...

i'll maybe brush up against chad - if i'm lucky - and then it starts to feel reaallly difficult. i look for distraction - maybe monica's next door, i should call my mom - that's part of this whole process of digging up the past, that's work...i eat a snack...i feel lost and like i just can't do it, like i don't know what i'm doing and have no business being in this space, with these opportunities...and then i feel so frustrated with myself because i know i have this thing trying to claw its way out.

it's in there. and it's massive. lifelong.
but it's in another language - one i don't quite speak.
i've felt completely daunted by the weight of deciphering because i've been missing what's right in front of my face. i've been looking for a shortcut...

there is no substitute for time with chad.

you can't wish or distract or skip your way around it.
there is no shortcut.
you just have to do the work.
you have to spend time with chad. in chad.
...lots of time.

PATIENCE.

face chad. face him head on. hang out with him. get to know him. swim around with him. do it more. and again. and again. and again. and again. and again. and again. and again...

yesterday's studio time looked very different then previous studio times of late. at the height of my panic / self-depricating slump, i decided to spend some time with chad...i set up some chairs and lights and my crappy android phone camera, placed a few cassette players around the space each playing a tape of a drone-y violin chord (which becomes this crazy delightful microtonal buzz once played out of the different old machines, each spinning at their own rate) and improvised around a simple score multiple times. over and over. back to back. without judgement. without reviewing in the moment.

it's raw. it's imperfect. it's many things...but it's real. it is where i am in the process. my process. and how great is that, really!? it just is. and it's certainly nothing to be so debilitatingly afraid and ashamed of. the real, raw, icky, beautiful process...

(dear self:) THERE IS NO SHORTCUT

YOU JUST HAVE TO DO THE WORK.

there is no shortcut around time spent in the practice of being in your process.

time and action - that is the formula.

have patience with yourself.

recognize that being in your process - where you are in your process at any given moment - IS everything.

it's a lifelong journey. be grateful for it.

what if there actually was this end point destination??
and you reached it...


those people you admire for really embodying something, for being masterful, for so clearly communicating through sound, movement, text, voice...they are where they are because of time spent in the practice of being in their process - and they're all searching and reaching for the next layer too...

there is no destination.
there is no shortcut.
you just have to do the work...

keep the channel open.

“there is a vitality, a life force, an energy, a quickening that is translated through you into action, and because there is only one of you in all of time, this expression is unique. if you block it, it will never exist through any other medium and it will be lost. the world will not have it.

it is not your business to determine how good it is nor how valuable nor how it compares with other expressions. it is your business to keep it yours clearly and directly, to keep the channel open. you do not even have to believe in yourself or your work. you have to keep yourself open and aware to the urges that motivate you. keep the channel open."

- martha graham
(via the ever-inspiring: lasara jarvis)

BRIDGING WOUNDS: transforming. PUBLICLY.

a new series of body-based performative installations by sound/physical artist, paris hurley, exploring an excavation of personal wounds and the deep dichotomy of wanting to hide yet needing to be seen.

(i think.)

the deep dichotomy of wanting to hide, yet needing to be seen...

it hasn't ever been that i don't have ideas...

it's a matter of not knowing how to channel them.

these things started long ago

oh. right. why exactly am i only recently realizing i have ideas and a voice...?

---
photo by day chan
flier by beth fleenor / the frank agency
spring, 2006

WHAT AM I DOING?!??

i am developing a series of body-based performative installations centered around an excavation of personal wounds.

(i'll show you mine, so maybe you'll show you yours...)

---
what am i doing? installed january 11, 2011
an answer to that question found in a workbook entry from september 20, 2011
the process...ever elusive and requiring of more patience then you thought possible...

experiments. evolutions on a theme.

nothing is singular.
find beauty and companionship in the symbiosis - be grateful for it.
it is the greatest truth.

IDENTITY / PERSONA: symbols of the self (?)

so much of my (perceived) identity feels wrapped up in external symbols - the hair cut/color i spent years developing, the cowboy boots that rarely left my feet, my violin (that violin), being a violinist...

what happens when you let go? what's left? who's left?

currently, i sit in a body-based studio space whose mission is to foster inquiry, experimentation, and process. no violin. different shoes. new hair.

it feels monumental.

how can these symbols hold so much and yet mean nothing at all?
the tricks of the mind...
the tricks of the ego...

it feels very fragile - like a fawn taking its first awkward steps - and like it is so obviously exuding from every pore, i might as well be wearing a huge neon sign and yelling through a megaphone. transforming. publicly. elements of this are very uncomfortable and unsettling. yet, it somehow feels like a symbol of strength - a new level of willingness to be vulnerable born out of a new sense of self. true self.

...lesson after lesson in what great strength comes through vulnerability...

october 16

now i don't know how to interface.
i'm finally present -
transformed -
indescribably grateful...
how do i interface with my life in seattle after such magic?
a life i've spent the last 2 tours lusting after...
it's all me.
it's all my life.
there is no separation unless i make one.
he is changed too.
now that i don't 'need' to be home, i'm going home.
funny, and yet perfect.

in it

photobooth with self
berlin - 10/09/11

a message to the self (a message to others)

the practice of being an open channel is just that - a practice.

honor that practice.
it takes great discipline, focus, presence, strength, and the willingness to be ever vulnerable.

Do you work with images? If yes, how, if no, what is your relationship to images?

I often think in images. Performative images. Some still, some in motion – often repetitive motion, an oscillation. Like single frames of a film – stuck in a loop, frozen, moving backwards, repeating, sewn together. As I work, I am very aware of constructing what image the audience will see throughout the entirety of the process – very aware of constructing the frame, as well.

The power of perspective...
The power of perception...

I am inspired by photographs. I am inspired by film. I am inspired by images I see in my daily existence: a shoe under a table, a hand lovingly placed on a leg, looks of confusion, silhouette, the way light transforms a corner of the room...

I generate in images, gathering them one at a time.
In development, I string them together.

As I think about how I work, where my interests are drawn, and search for the core of why and how I use images, I’m quickly led to my anthropological thoughts and inclinations...(obsessions...?)

Humans are deeply affected by images. They infiltrate our beliefs about ourselves, our dreams. They nestle deep into our psyche and tuck themselves away, affecting future thoughts and decisions, often even without the awareness of our conscious mind. Humans’ relationship to image is extremely powerful... I believe that many of the difficulties we face as humans in the 21st century come from the images we propagate and are surrounded (bombarded) by. It is innately human to want to belong – to a family, a community...we are like wolves. And because we all want this so deeply (and often desperately), corporations and consumerism have successfully taken over, feeding on this fear. We are fed images and ideas of what it means to belong, of what you need to look and be like (of what you need to not look and not be like) in order to be good, beautiful, unique, interesting, cool, accepted, loved...

It’s an epidemic.
One I am deeply, personally affected by...

I want to infiltrate with some other images. Other images of what it means to be a woman, what it means to work, what it means to be beautiful, powerful, strong, brave, honest, fulfilled...
People don’t know how to deal with themselves. We fear being alone. We fear ourselves. We fear each other. And I believe connectivity is the in-road to that process of looking inward, making changes, and learning to love yourself (vs. looking to external people, places, and things to provide a false and temporary place holder for that). We feel so alone so much of the time because what we are shown to be ‘the human experience’ is a false, constructed facade that doesn’t actually exist. We are in a constant state of telling ourselves: We’re not enough. You’re not enough.

(I’m not enough...)

We are voyeurs. We want to look in on other people’s experiences and we want them to resemble our own - external reassurance that we’re ‘normal,’ we’re okay, we’re enough. This is particularly evident in our growing cultural obsession with ‘reality’ tv – a medium that has become more false (and therefore more detrimental to our collective psyche) then fiction. We want connections. We want community. But this desire has only allowed the same business practices to take hold, feed on our fear, and manipulate, further reinforcing these false ideas of what and how and who ‘real’ people are.

People take great relief in genuinely connecting to another person through a shared experience, sentiment, feeling, image... What if people didn’t have to alienate and torture others as a defense mechanism, a deflection of their own insecurities and feelings of not belonging? What if people felt the greatest sense of belonging when they were most themselves?

Perhaps if we were surrounded by other images, images that support the true cultivation of an individual – a unique individual – we could start to shift this mentality, shift these definitions.

I want to infiltrate.
I want to connect people to each other through highlighting the shared aspects of the real human experience.
I want to present some other images.
I want to magnify, highlight, extract, and trigger the real, the raw.
I want to invoke social change, healing, and unity through creativity and an acknowledgement of the aspects of humanity that are truly shared.

new mantra in honor of the true self. (she has worth) (and ideas...)

recited each time i 'enter' 'artistic' time:

something small
something tall
all things, all
DO

a new chapter

i have been given the huge huge gift of studio time for the month of september. i am about to embark on my first solo studio time where movement is the focus. why does such great fear often accompany the doing of that which you most deeply want, that which is most deeply fulfilling? the mind is a powerful thing...a master of self-sabotage.

i am so quick to tell myself i don't have any ideas, or any value where creativity is concerned. i can interpret and breath life into other people's creations with mastery, but that is where my contributions and abilities cease. wow. really, paris?

recently a new thought has started to emerge...
what if my struggle actually comes from that fact that i'm so creative, have great innate aptitude in many mediums and am actually overwhelmed by all i'm deeply inclined to do (vs. the exact opposite - which is what i've always felt about myself / told myself)...?

then the question becomes - what do put my energy/work/self into developing???

perhaps this 'great innate aptitude' refers to potential, or an ability to skim the surface with some satisfaction and ease...
i have a great fear of / aversion to working through something. i'm quick to meet the place where that innate aptitude reaches its limit, say, "i don't know how," and give up. i've realized pieces of this for a while, attributing it to a fear of not being good enough or able - what if i really tried and worked at something and was bad at it...? but what if it's actually a fear of making the 'wrong' decision, a fear of commitment to myself...?

i want to really sink my teeth into something(s) - i'm ready to really sink my teeth into something(s) - but that will take much time and effort. i'll have to choose.

what do i want to do (truly, deeply, at my core)?
vs.
what are just my ideas about what i want to do (based on surface / external influences)...?

and then: how do i stay present and push through the surface - face the difficulty head on, dive into it, swim around in it, let it be messy and clumsy and un-calculated.............?

i know one important part of the equation: keep showing up.

dear self / dear humanity -

suffering is a choice.
let go.

dmv

a woman puts on makeup
i see her reflection in the mirror.

a man looks for ways to dodge the system
get ahead
get ahead
get ahead.

impatience and anxiety.

new drivers anxiously await their tests - will i gain a new level of independence?

blush.
eye shadow.
powder.
lipstick.
eyebrow pencil.

i have dulse in my teeth.
do i smile for my picture?

mascara.

her son waits beside her, his hat backwards.
the word original, embroidered.

they all leave with such lightness...

now serving 035.

WARRIOR / WARRIORESS

what do i value?

in humans
in life
in art
in art-making...

: the raw / real
: passion
: precision
: intention
: depth
: openness / vulnerability
: honesty
: true / deep sharing
: individuality
: being something (who you truly are) vs. trying to be something (who/what you think someone else wants you to be)
: courage / bravery (in the ways of facing oneself and taking risks - openness / vulnerability)
: the cultivation and expression of the genuine voice of an individual
: the willingness to build something from the ground up

august 13

magical nights on the black sea.
a reflection on freedom.
enter 27.
saturn is returning...
the balance between grounding into personal power and letting go.
butterflies chase each other.
a desire to love and own all of the self - step fully in.
a desire to create the life wanted with ones own hands.
a new glimpse of the web.

to carry forward: grace.

august 11

bodies hurt.
i am car sick.
gas station burek and yogurt - the probiotic kind.
we stand on a table for a photo.
the smell of redbull permeates.

home cooked meal heals.
family time.
night swim adventure.
the waves crash.

august 8 / wayward son

late night drive through hungary to avoid crossing croatian borders.
we break out into wayward son, dodge an owl sitting in the road.
a bottle of medica is passed.
a chorus of "ahh" punctuates the topography of the road.
the border patrol man 'jokes' that nika and i are staying there, but everyone else can go.
i laugh because i don't speak the language.
they laugh to play the game.

august 10 / zrenjanin - sofia

he is locked in a room.
she is traumatized by a schizophrenic.
i see her cry for the first time.
we brainstorm names for blank davis.
the tire tread bursts.
30 flies enter the van.
the light is beautiful.
i feel grateful and at peace.

august 8

we wait to hear if our hotel bill is paid. 2 hours.
i wear my new dress - flies with pink bows.
i feel so much better - there were legitimate things affecting my body.
i'm tired, but feeling so different - it highlights how bad i felt.
anger and frustration surround.
the police come at 8am in search of a passport.
i feel good in my body - a relief from the total discomfort of the last 2 weeks.
i look forward to returning home, cleansing, and dancing.

august 7 / border fun

we are turned away from the border (croatia - slovenia) because they cannot process ATA carnet.
the border is 300 meters from the festival we are playing.
we are re-routed to another border.
the drive takes 90 minutes and causes us to miss our sound check.

august 7 / rijeka

this is where people go to be murdered.
bathrooms outside, showers too.

chaos outside my door.
i yell, "SHUT THE FUCK UP!" from bed.
it works.
i surprise myself and laugh out loud.

the mattress creaks and caves - all lumps.
(is there a body inside? i read about that happening once as a kid)

mechanical dreams - the city is rotating, turning over like a machine. careful not to fall through the grating.

there's mold under the sink - the smell hits me in the face.
i use my hair scissors to cut out the parts of the sheet that look dirty.

6am battle with a mosquito.
a man yells aggressively in a language i can't understand. a door slams.
is it 10 yet? how about now?
and now?

being an asshole is called 'the answer' - i call that the problem...

the people feed us.
thank you all.

a group of girls present an offering wrapped in a charcoal man.

i cut away the parts of the sheet that look dirty.

august 5 / the mobster

negotiations.
politics.
lies.
false layers/perceptions/plays of power.
corruption.
reactions flying.
fear.
sadness.
we turn against each other - but only briefly.

questions of value:
what do you value?
what do i value?

i think of the people in zajecar...
they need us.
we need them.

you have to dismantle the structure to rebuild - it's okay to let go.

i love watching the trees pass - the tall skinny ones.

august 11 - 7:41am

falling.

new tiny brother, dad, jeff - clearing out the house. weight lifting, tests: in the water, walking through water, cutting through concrete with steel like water...

the dentist and her daughter

zadar, croatia: the gum area behind my last molar on the bottom right side starts feeling strange. as the night progresses, strange turns to painful and swelling ensues. by 6am, i google 'gum abscess' and decide that sounds about right. all recommendations: see a dentist immediately. the plan is to leave at 9am for osijek, croatia to play a show that night. internally, i try to stay calm and focus on my breath (and refocus and refocus and refocus on my breath...), but my mind spins with fear - i'm terrified of dentists as it is, let alone in a foreign country! i don't have insurance or money. how are we going to find a dentist? there's no time to find a dentist - we won't get in until 4pm at the earliest, sound check is at 6...

in the morning, i tell my travel companions of my situation. chris has a friend in osijek and immediately emails her for assistance. turns out, his friend's friend's mom is a dentist.

yep.
seriously.

the friend's friend, sandra, and her mom, andela, meet us at a mcdonalds as we pull into town around 5pm. gino speaks to them for me. i'm told to go with them and i get ushered into the back of a small red car. i peer helplessly out of the window as everyone else climbs back in the van, hotel bound. i smell particularly bad - my stress sweat at its worst - which, i feel absolutely terrible about subjecting these women to. i keep my armpits attached to my sides in an attempt to trap the smell of anxiety. at first, it seems neither of them speak english. this adds to my terror. we whiz through small streets, stopping and taking off abruptly. i clutch the necklace beth made for me and run my finger nail over the beads. on the verge of tears, it occurs to me that being afraid is a choice - i could choose not to be and the situation would be just the same. this sounds better. so, i choose not to be afraid and instead, inhale to a count of 4, exhale to a count of 6. it works. i feel instantly proud of myself for putting those thoughts and choices into action in such a moment vs. only in theory.

we arrive and i'm led down a dark hallway. andela (sandra's mom - who has got to be in her late 60's) unlocks a series of doors and soon, we're in the exam room. there's a waiting area, but no reception. we are the only people there. she takes a few moments to prepare and then motions for me to sit in the chair. there are familiar and unfamiliar tools - small dishes full of what look like steel nails varying in size line the tray in front of me. her method for assessing whether or not i have pain is to hammer on my molars with the back end of a tool. clink clink...clink clink... she shakes her head yes and no as she does this - her way of asking, "does this hurt? and how about this?" i follow suit.

her diagnosis (from what i could gather): i'm teething.
my wisdom tooth is coming in and having trouble breaking through the surface, which caused an infection. she gives me two topical treatments (miming how to use them, adorably), and an antibiotic. i am to take 2 pills at the top of the day - she stands on her toes and holds her hand above her head - and at the bottom of the day - she crouches down, holding her hand below her waist - for 4 days. she refuses to accept any money.

after, she takes me into another room and feeds me sugary tonic water and crackers. she encourages me to take the remaining crackers as she rummages around for more things to give me: a small tube of toothpaste and a huge box of chocolate, which she places in a decorative gift bag. when we get back to the car, she insists i sit up front - with my bags in the back - and we drop her off not too much after. i get out and thank her profusely. she smiles sweetly and kisses both of my cheeks.

people. fucking amazing.

i don't want to care

we rolled in sunday afternoon and went almost immediately to the beach. it was a super popular, mainstream beach and there wasn't a single woman with a single hair anywhere except the top of their heads and eyebrows. and of course, they all had totally gorgeous, flawless, tan bodies. i had planned to swim, but in that environment, with my hair, i went into shut down mode and ended up sitting on the beach, by myself, in the hot sun, crying, while everyone else swam in the magical adriatic.

little girl paris felt so very sad. she just wanted to go play and be free like everyone else.

i'm not like those women - most women - and it makes me feel like a man. i've held myself up to those standards of 'woman' my whole life. i've tried to manipulate and hide myself to present that image of 'woman' my entire life. i don't want to care. i don't want to feel gross. i'm not like that. i just don't look like that. and many women do - or else they're considered unattractive. a bigger part of me knows better and knows that that is not where true beauty lies, but the other part can be much much stronger and louder, especially when so directly faced with that aesthetic and observing the responses to it...

i've been exposing my legs (with hair) at the kultur shock shows (in the balkans!) and feeling totally empowered by it - so that's a huge personal victory. i'm trying to be easy on myself and the process...but there is still a large part of me that so wants to be that other kind of woman and so hates myself for not. i know i'm on the right path to accepting who i am and being comfortable with it and eventually loving all of myself (not just parts while despising the rest). some days, the struggle is more difficult than others...

yesterday i was asked: "what can you do to make a small victory?"
my instant response: "write about it and share it publicly. i don't want other people to feel this way about themselves. it is so destructive and so unnecessary..."

it's a process. it's a practice.

4 days off on the croatian coast is not exactly something you'd associate with fear and dread. yet, i find myself in exactly that place - the beach is not a place for someone with body issues.

i haven't owned a bathing suit in almost 10 years.

women aren't "supposed" to have body hair. or at least, you're unattractive and there's something wrong with you if you do. i used to spend so much time and energy and money on trying to remove every last hair from my body that wasn't "supposed" to be there (as a woman). i've spent the majority of my life trying to hide my body and its natural state(s) and show a constructed picture that only consists of the parts i can manipulate into being more "normal" - more like all other women - more attractive. i've spent the majority of my life thinking i'm disgusting, gross, and manly. i'm not like those other women. i don't have a 'perfectly' shaped, hairless body. and constantly holding myself up to those standards - those definitions of beauty and woman - has caused a deeply rooted hate of myself to grow.

i'm ready to dismantle that hate. i'm ready to dismantle those ideas. they're just ideas, afterall.

in october, 2010, i stopped shaving my legs. i figure the first step toward loving all of myself is learning to accept myself as i am.

this is incredibly difficult.

at first, every time i looked down at my legs, i was confronted with disgust and hate for myself. those pathways in my brain are well worn - the grooves are deep. it will take time and practice to make new connections.

i'm ready to make new connections. i'm working to make new connections. each time i have those thoughts of hate and disgust and deeply wishing i was like those other women, i tell myself i am beautiful. i say loving things to myself - instead of hateful.

i know better. i truly believe in beauty as the real and the raw, people being as they truly are - not a constructed facade of false unification. it's what i appreciate and value and find beautiful in others - yet, i have such a difficult time doing that with myself.

it's a process.
it's a practice.

i'm human. you're human. we're all human. it is a shared experience.

WAKE UP

this is less then 2 blocks from the place i have been living for the last 7 months:


i just discovered it yesterday...

---
dear paris,

WAKE UP.
BE PRESENT.
STOP FOCUSING ALL OF YOUR EVERYTHING ON THE FUTURE, WHERE YOU'RE GOING, WHAT YOU DON'T HAVE....
YOU'RE MISSING EVERYTHING (AMAZING THINGS!) ABOUT/AROUND/WITHIN WHERE YOU ARE NOW. (and now. and now. and now. and now...)

emerging artist statment - draft: 1

I am an experimental performance artist with an extensive background in classical violin and ballet training. I am interested in externalizing the internal through sound, movement, and the transformation of spaces, creating immersive multi-sensory experiences for audiences. I make work to dismantle boxes – my own and those that are culturally / socially accepted - by questioning pre-conceived definitions and assumed aspects of humanity.

What does it really mean to be a woman? What does it really mean to be a man? What does it really mean to be strong? What does it really mean to work?

My artistic process is centered around self-study and a general questioning of what it means to be human. Taking an anthropological approach, I work to amplify the collective/shared human experience through examining, exploring, and sharing my individual experience.

I am interested in the occurrence of different versions of the same thing - 50 light bulbs of different shapes and sizes hanging from white string, a wall covered in index cards each filled with unique content, a phrase of movement repeated with slight variation – using objects, sound, and movement to illustrate how as humans, we are all different versions of the same thing.

I want to explore dance as a visual expression of sound, using lines, shapes, and angles of the body (in an environment) to externalize internal processing, emotions, and sentiments. I want to break down my former relationship to music and the violin. I want to dismantle out-moded, limiting systems. I want to highlight the connectivity of all things.

I’m human. You’re human. We’re all human. It is a shared experience.

perfection is an illusion - let it go.

a page from jeff huston's book.
an intimate moment.
a shared experience.
a lesson in giving myself permission to be free and let things out that are based purely on impulse - that are silly or anything but skillfully executed...

beware the illusion of perfection.

the refusal to be creative is self-will and counter to our true nature.
the refusal to be creative is self-will and counter to our true nature.
the REFUSAL to be creative is SELF-WILL and COUNTER to our TRUE NATURE.

we are refusing to be creative.
the big we.
the universal we.
we are in pain because we are acting against our true nature.
we are acting out because we are in pain.

dismantle boxes

yesterday, i bought my first colored pencils - pastel pencils, to be exact - and my first notebook intended for free-writing/drawing, where order is not the objective and not knowing what i'm going to write or how i'm going to format/organize it before even making a mark is actually encouraged.





no judgement.
freedom.
clarification emerging...

UNITY

zagreb, croatia - april 14, 2011 - photo by guy davis

dear laundry experience:

what are you trying to teach me? what is the lesson? i know there's a lesson...

---

only 4 shows and 2 long flights remain. everything i have in tow reeks of cigarettes (FUCK INDOOR SMOKING) and i wanted something clean and comfortable to wear for the journey home. by some miracle, the hotel we're in has FREE laundry on the 4th floor! i was ecstatic.

---

back and forth, back and forth, back and forth...i have visited the laundry room 7 times over a 9 hour period.

my laundry is still not done.

all my whites have been dyed a faded purple-ish dirt color.
in all my years of doing laundry, i have never once put the red sock in with the white load...

this was one of the extremely rare nights i could have actually gotten 8 hours of sleep.
i got 5 and a half.

IT IS NOW IN THE DRYER - which feels like an incredible triumph.
after an hour, it is still very wet.
van call is in 1 hour and 20 minutes.

i imagine everything will shrink to toddler size as well - you know, for good measure.

---

WHY??????
what are you trying to teach me?
what is the lesson?
i know there's a lesson...

a layer (stay strong / don't yield / don't hide)

i get quite the gamut of stares during my travels throughout the balkans and in instanbul, in particular. a disturbing amount of men look at me either as if i'm an an object that exists only for them to toss around in whatever way they see fit, or with absolute disdain. i can't walk down the street or go to the bathroom at a roadside rest stop without experiencing one or the other - or both.

as difficult as that is to hold / navigate / let go of / stay strong in myself in spite of, it is no accident that i inhabit this body. it is part of my work. it is part of my dharma. who i am doesn't have anything to do with my physical appearance, but it is a vehicle from which to do my job. my real job.

enact social change.
highlight the unified human experience.
see and share the similarities through experiencing the differences.
educate.
empower.
lead by example - not by force.

lead by example

not by force

istanbul

from the mouths of our incredible hosts:

> as of about 1 month ago, no one under 24 can attend a concert of live music

> our (male) host was ARRESTED for wearing yellow skinny jeans

> conservatism is rapidly on the rise: in 1999, 17% of the women chose to observe the covering of their heads with scarves. today, that number has risen to 70% of the population. i am told this is done because it excites and agitates the men to see a woman's hair - which, clearly, they have made the woman's responsibility. there are 80 million people in turkey.

> 2958 women have been killed this year. (we are not even 5 months in.) they are being shot down in the streets and no one is doing anything about it.

[waiting for a flight from skopje, macedonia - istanbul, turkey. photo by amy denio]

comparison / recreation / presence

i'm experiencing a much deeper level of exhaustion this time. i don't even have the energy to go on exploratory adventures in the brief time not already spoken for, or interact with many people (even my bandmates) - both of which have previously been what fed me and got me through the difficulties of the road.

i'm finding that i don't know how to be - but in a totally different way then on previous tours. i feel so much more comfortable within myself, but i feel mentally torn between what i'm feeling now, what i've felt on previous tours, and shoulds. there's the key word right there - SHOULD. i feel like i SHOULD be interacting with audience members more. i feel like i SHOULD be exploring more during stolen moments of downtime. i feel like i SHOULD be connecting with people and my present environment more - i SHOULDN'T be spending so much time writing...

i'm just approaching this round differently. i'm doing a different kind of work. i'm communicating and connecting differently. i'm doing what i need to do to take care of myself so i can perform every night. i am where i am. this time, i need lots of rest and lots of personal time.

i'm attempting to stay connected in a new way - to bridge the gap between the worlds in a way i haven't done before.

i'm gaining perspective and understanding every day. it's not for nothing. i'm doing good work. i have no power if i'm exhausted.

release the SHOULDs. embrace yourself and where you are. move intuitively and trust yourself. you don't want to waste it. you won't waste it. it isn't wasted. it's just different.

---

belgrade, serbia
the evening prayer is seeping through the window.

sacred spiral

a symbol of personal power.
the process.
a connection to the source through ritual treatment of motion.

step up. do your job.

bucharest to sofia

a desolate highway
lined with prostitutes

teacher

what (you think) someone wants you to be vs. who (where / what) you really are.

we're fracturing and therefore no individual is nearly as powerful.

now, it feels so difficult in that screaming at a brick wall sort of way.

the weight and size and importance (and definition) of my REAL job is becoming clearer everyday.

don't push. just be. all you can do is do your job in every moment. do that. speak (difficult) truths. speak what you see. stand your ground.

lead by example - not by force.
lead by example - not by force.
lead by example - not by force.

possibility

double yoko - experiment no. 1

BETH FLEENOR: clarinets / voice / electronics
PARIS HURLEY: violin / tape players

double yoko is a constantly shifting time-based entity that strives to process individual and collective experience to encourage growth and healing. from project to project our work can include improvisations, through-composed pieces, installations and performance art, among other outlets.

---

recorded and mixed live by doug haire for sonarchy radio (KEXP - 90.3 fm)
jack straw studios
seattle, wa
march 26, 2011

connection