Letter After Winter Rain
Updated: Jan 26
Revisiting “78h. ungrowing grass”: Winter Solstice edition
It’s over. It’s over in a matter of a physical event, but it’s not over in my thoughts and feelings. Yesterday we received the most difficult weather conditions: rain, wind and cold. This combination was following us through the whole live stream. But we didn’t stop and went until the end!
It was a magical day since Winter Solstice and Great Conjunction were taking place. Probably, the live stream was supposed to be magical as well - as a ritual for the New Era, celebrating transitions and transformations. But it was not. It was survival. It was an honest being for 9 hours under the conditions, which nature offered us on that day. We’re wet and cold, our protection from the rain was flying and breaking apart because of the wind, we had to take extra care for equipment and internet connection because of the water all around. I didn’t feel like ‘performing’, making nice dance movements, or trying to find impressive images. All I felt like doing was to be together with Gerben, who had a very complex task of recording a live stream under these conditions for 9 hours and keep the energy up, so we don’t sink under this rain. I had an urge to go through the camera and reach people watching us, just for a nice chat, simple connection, allowing to follow our struggle and feel that IT’S OK and we all can go through everything. It’s just a matter of a will and a wish to go further, to stay curious, to continue, to accept and let go, to dream, to laugh, to cry, to scream, to run, to swim.
This livestream was definitely very special. I still don’t understand everything that happened. I’m still landing. But all I know is that this time it was all about support. It was so amazing to have Gerben together with me going through the struggle, pain, but staying positive, courageous, rebellious, curious. There was a moment when I asked him “you can’t anymore?”. And he answered: “I’m dying, but fuck it, let’s go!”. And we went on. Together until the end. Also, it was amazing to have a few best friends staying around and keeping an eye on us live and through the screen, making sure the connection was working and being alert about everything that’s happening to us and if we need help. There was a moment when we were hiding in the ten and they came by boat to bring us some hot water bags and a beautiful letter from the person, who passed by to watch a performance. That was a precious moment and that was what this livestream turned to be about - support and thorough listening to yourself and each other.
This time I had a task to myself to not push any artistic choices and stay close to myself in a sense of doing and saying things immediately when it comes into my head. All the thoughts I would usually keep inside me, I said out loud. All memories, worries, doubts, frustrations, not essentials thoughts. It was different, but it was what I had a wish to try.
I’m thankful for the rain and wind because it showed me lots of things, which I would have not noticed. Nature decided that 21st needs to be rough. We could have chosen another day, but we stayed close to the idea and went for it - no matter what. And we managed. We found a way. We found a way to stay together with nature and still make things done. That makes me feel peaceful.
Instead of “from sunrise to sunset” it transformed into “from darkness to darkness”. Can’t be more special:)
The screenshot is taken from the moment which became a ritual of the performance - cleaning the raindrops from the camera lens:)
Thanks to Gerben de Jong for being the best and the most courageous cameraman in the world! Thanks for love and support: Rachel Schuit, Robbi Meertens, Elliot Dehaspe and Coen! Thanks for inspiring and encouraging conversations and advices, dear Bush Hartsorn! And THANKS to everyone who was with us!
This performance is supported by Lietuvos kultūros taryba
78h. ungrowing grass will stay alive!