poems over the years

i was emptying out a box and found a collection of poems. i selected one and I post it here:

The Mother
-Gwendolyn Brooks

Abortions will not let you forget.
You remember the children you got that you did not get,
The damp small pulps with a little or with no hair,
The singers and workers that never handled the air.
You will never neglect or beat
Them, or silence or buy with a sweet.
You will never wind up the sucking-thumb
Or scuttle off ghosts that come.
You will never leave them, controlling your luscious sigh,
Return for a snack of them, with gobbling mother-eye.

I have heard in the voices of the wind the voices of my dim killed
children.
I have contracted. I hae eased
My dim dears at the breasts they could never suck.
I have said, Sweets, if I sinned, if I seized
Your luck
And your lives from your unfinished reach,
If I stole your births and your names,
Your straight baby tears and your games,
Your stilted or lovely loves, your tumults, your marriages, aches,
and your deaths,
If I poisoned the beginnings of your breaths,
Believe that even in my deliberateness I was not deliberate.
Though why should I whine,
Whine that the crime was other than mine?--
Since anyhow you are dead.
Or rather, or instead,
You were never made.
But that too, I am afraid,
Is faulty: oh, what shall i say, how is the truth to be said?
You were born, you had body, you died.
It is just that you never giggled or planned or cried.

Believe me, I loved you all.
Believe me, I knew you, though faintly, and I loved, I loved you
All.

creating dances

last week i finished filming two dance pieces called

"Unseen, Unheard Yet Here"
&
"향수 (Hyang-su)"

I am especially thankful to Mana, Jay, Albert and Jason for making it happen. I am also grateful for Kristen's commitment and dedication to my work. The second title in Korean means "homesickness" as this is an emotion that plays a vital role in my life.
Despite what the end result may be, i am very proud of the work that has been produced. It is such an odd feeling. I am usually humble and modest to a fault- well, i am usually never completely satisfied with my work (who is?), but this time, i feel very happy with what the dancers and i have done. it is such a joy beyond words to see the dancers execute my ideas so beautifully on stage. This feeling is exemplary of how and why people live and die for art.

dancing history

i have never seen a dance piece titled "comfort woman" with a footage from live interview. it even adds a little twist that the dancer is actually male who is initially dressed in woman's attire. i enjoyed the violent yet connected movements that spring a sense of hope from the dancer's body... and his smiles.

1 sept 2011

artwork for the day






this performance made me (re)think about the representation and movement of the body as art itself. perhaps it is the inevitable narcissism in me (or in human nature) that makes me believe that our bodies are one of the most powerful means to a work of art. two points to think about:

there is no doubt that the dancers here are technically trained to a degree that most people are not.

what would happen to this piece of bach's music was not used and the dance was done in silence?

in the spirit of spontaneity i write

today finally feels like i am closing a huge book with a 'thump' and i'm on the way to return the book to the library. or i am holding a paper printed with a glossy cover ready to be slipped under the professor's door. despite the feeling of "being done," i sense fear as i recall rehearsing over and over in my head a piece called "separation anxiety: a prison you can't quite escape"

* * *

having a corporate job made me believe that professionalism and money will always take care of me, like virtual foster parents who send paychecks regularly and never fail to miss a cent after deducting taxes. When they feel my morale is down, they let me splurge even. Better yet, they send me proper medications so i can temporarily forget and forgive the misery i face on a daily basis.

Despite the misery, the fear of separating from these foster parents is immense. It's not the paycheck they provide- they have much more power than that. They control the mind of the global economy, and without a doubt they have crushed millions of brave souls to keep up with their ideology. I made a deal with them two years ago that as long as I show them I am on their side, they will accept me. There is one more thing they took from me: courage

I am left without any tools now that I have left them. Professionalism and money only gave me temporary satisfaction of being an acceptable member of society. Once you leave them, they are merciless. They will remind you every day that you need them, you can't live without them. I might be crushed one day, but history has taught me that revoluntion cannot take place in one night, not even in one lifetime. Even if i am buried under millions of brave souls, at least i will know i lived courageously.

helyeona ii

continuing my blog in a few days.
stay tuned.