Entering the Slipstream…
My friend Rori Knudson regularly said her favorite place to be was in a plane in the air – lost in the slipstream of larger flows, unreachable by things outside of her immediate present, caught up in the journey. (I hope you’re resting in peace, Rori.)
I’m in an airplane over the Atlantic. For the second time in two months, no less; and the third time in two years; and just the fourth time in 15 years. It’s starting to feel familiar again, which is welcome, but still rarified enough to feel luxurious in its privilege.
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Caroline suggested we start a blog. To track both our travels (they’re getting ready to move to Berlin – I’m sure they’ll share more about that soon). I had wanted to start a blog for several years, but it feels much more possible with someone else prompting it as well. More than just me spewing my thoughts for pages on end. A forum for our staff and artists to reflect on the work we do together… This feels like a much more holistic, vital formulation. That said, I’m excited about it as a means to process and share, to coalesce ideas and narratives around the work we do; even if that entails me putting substantial piles of words out into the world in a format that is not exactly conversation. (But please respond! – in comments, counter-posts, personal messages, however you see fit…)
And anyway, I’ll be in Germany and Ukraine for the next five weeks, with two other trips already completed this summer and at least one more this fall, so… I’m not super available for conversation; and anyone who doesn’t need more words from me can skip down to posts from Caro, Kristine, and others; or… whatever you need to do. Unlike a performance where we abscond with you on a bus, you’re totally in charge of your situation and experience here, so I’ll get over myself and stop trying to caretake your experience.
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In fact, I’ve traveled more in the last 15 months than in the prior 10 years. Partly because of Covid, obviously, but there’s much more at work as well: a phase of life focused on rooting down more than reaching outward, parenting a small child, nurturing a non-profit organization gradually toward sustainability, little discretionary income, even less discretionary time. It makes me acutely aware of the privilege of travel; and equally aware of how vital travels is to me for fulfilled living. The ability to move through the world freely, to lighten our touch on the earth, to gather and carry much of what we need, and forage the rest. Also the way that our senses are heightened in situations where we don’t expect things to go like they usually do, where expectation itself is untethered from mundane, unfurled into receptivity, living in a state of engaged listening that is hard to maintain within familiar repetitive routines.
On one hand, a rejuvenative respite, an invigorating break from ‘everyday life.’ On another hand, a way of being in the world, with its own continuous presence and sustainment of practice.
Through my 20s I lived out of a backpack and a couple milk crates – bouncing from one tiny NY apartment to the next, with residencies and performances along the East Coast; then trying to expatriate indefinitely to Germany, with tours across Europe, the Middle East, Mexico (ironically, this tour from Germany was only time I’ve been to the foreign country closest to my home). I recognize the privileges at work here that left me unencumbered by debt, disease, family obligation, carceral history, or other structural obstacle. I also recognize that this was not luxurious jet-setting vacations, it was tightly parametered existence, a practice of rigorous spartan simplicity and existential uncertainty with few backstops and only shallow, far-flung roots – in service of free, unencumbered motion through the world, and the ability to show up anywhere there was work for me.
So now I’m traveling again, leveraging work opportunities and Control Group’s growing capacity to dive into new natural and social ecologies, to find how our work, practices, and ideas connect with and learn from other communities and environments. I’m excited both for the rejuvenative break in routine, and to settle into the rhythm of nomadic lifeways.
This afternoon I’ll arrive in Hamburg, just in time for the first of several performances I’m attending at the Kampnagel summer festival. Then I’ll take a train to western Ukraine (totally safe areas! First Lviv, then a small town on the edge of the Carpathians) to help lead an art+nature camp for displaced youth. Then back to Germany, to meet Caro for the Tanzmesse in Dusseldorf – an industry conference where we hope to connect our work with European presenters. And then a week of celebration with my German host family, with whom my family is now into our third generation of foreign exchange, dating back to 1967. And then home.
Future posts will hopefully be much more interesting, with photos and exciting experiences and deep insights to share. For now, I’m just here in the slipstream, and hold some space next to me for Rori.
-Patrick Mueller, Artistic Director