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Keep These Trees

Our forest 
is long.
Its treetips
fragile
they bend 
in wind.
Longing is
vague and tall.
These trees 
can envy
and weigh
of grief.
Our forest 
is strong.

Sun, May 5, 2019 | Model info | Footnotes

Piyul doesn't speak English. I don't speak Korean. Yet thanks to technology we were able to communicate. Google Translate. Hand gestures. Smiles. I could read in the air a bit of her inner spirit, her quest for newness, her sense of adventure, her kindness and grace and confidence, the individual beauty of her soul. Piyul was the first installation/act of my first live multimedia physiopoetry event, a show that included an audio recording and visual projections connected with the poetry being written on her body. The lights were off and projections of forests, trees, and leaves splashed over us as I wrote across words her chest and stomach. A trippy blend of the poem and thoughts and feelings surrounding it were sounding around us like a dream. 

The show was performed as part of Liquid Arts, a sprawling and beautiful multimedia arts even in Busan, South Korea that has being going on since 2000 thanks to long-time expat organizer and coordinator Kenneth May. I was so grateful to be included in this, to have the opportunity to share my work on the other side of the globe in a way I've never shared it before. As for the behind the scenes of it all, as usual, Jessica Lynch made it possible by expertly splicing the audio together and selecting divine and congruent visuals for the projections. It all felt so magical, so surreal. So much gratitude to everyone involved, producers and organizers and spectators alike. What a way to feel alive, performing something I've created, something I'm proud of and love, live. My heart is so full. 

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