In the Studio

A Walking Practice

Christina Gesualdi. Photo by Miles Yeung._small

I know Christina through working with her as members at Mascher Space Co-op. She has a special way of thinking about her art and about Mascher, and a deep love for the well-worn, DIY rehearsal and performance space. Christina often talks and writes in a roundabout, muddled-through way that gives weight to the slow, the dispersed, and the felt, and this modus operandi extends to her sincerity in working with the multiplicitous, slow-moving organism that is an artist cooperative. I thought of Christina for an In the Studio piece not only because she is an integral part of this unique cooperative studio, but also because her art space expands beyond those walls. She walks around Kensington as part of her dance and life practice.

-Antonia Z Brown, curator

For a while now, I’ve been saying “I have a walking practice.” I’d like to rethink that and instead just say, “I like to walk.” I think of walking like digestion—an active space of doing, sensing, and soft absorption and excretion. For the past few years I’ve been rehearsing fairly steadily at Mascher on Friday afternoons. I often split my time between being INSIDE and OUTSIDE of the rehearsal space.

When I’m INSIDE:

  • I try to move from where I am.
    It isn’t about generating or accumulating something to show people or to show myself. I dance with values of anti-productivity.
  • I question preparedness—does my body need to be warm, focused, and integrated in the studio? Yes . . . probably somewhat, BUT can I move without moving though codified ways of preparing? Sort of. There is no void to fill.
  • The space (4 walls / floor / ceiling) doesn’t exist to be filled by me. I am permeable and we seep in and out of each other. Even when it is just my body in the room, I am not at the center of this constellation. There is no void to fill.
  • I spend a lot of time rolling, sliding, laying, and finding low to the ground washing-machine-like cycles of churning in my body. The Mascher floor is the floor is the floor. I experience that floor. I experience the materiality of my own body and the space. I am influenced by the choreographers Leah Stein and Luciana Achugar. They have really different ways of trusting experience and pleasure and of addressing the way the stuff of the world meets the stuff of the skin. Both of their approaches resonate with my movement instincts.
  • Often I like working in pairs or with larger groups of people who I invite into the process. We do “Authentic Movement” in pairs. I hate the name “Authentic Movement” because I’d hate to think that movement could somehow be inauthentic, BUT I love the practice. One person moves for a timed duration with their eyes closed and their partner witnesses it while also witnessing their own experience as the situation unfolds. They switch roles.
  • WRITING TOO: I also find this way of slicing time up to be essential in my studio world. I like doing chunks of free writing. I enjoy pushing my hand and words forward on the page and making space for my thoughts to fold and to be murky and diffuse.
  • QI GONG TOO: This is a chinese energy medicine technique. It is a meditative way to move and resonate the holistic and energetic body. I like how its practices are based in ideas about sensing and guiding alchemy within the body and its fluids, its fires, and its winds, and then being in relation to the alchemy and pull of the surrounding environment and the five elements in nature. I like how it uses touch and sound.

When I’m OUTSIDE:

  • I am walking. I keep my body moving forward in space, down the sidewalks and across streets: Cecil B. Moore Ave. or North American St. or 5th St. or Susquehana. Like sausage getting squished through the grinder.
  • I’m noticing and letting go. I am skeptical of accumulation. I’m not taking pictures or trying to document it. This is experiential. I am skeptical of sensory tourism; it is messed up to romanticize, exploit, exoticize, and lock down what I see. My senses and awareness feel crisp and my skin feels awake.
  • I’m not at the center of this constellation. My body is here and also soft and permeable and spilling and absorbing.
  • Lately, I slice time up and try to keep my walks to a certain duration using a felt sense of timing; I used to use a timer to keep track of duration.
  • I walk alone or in pairs or with a slightly larger group of people who I invite into the process. We are not “showing/performing,” yet I know that there is a violence in assuming or holding rigidly to how we expect others to see us. I welcome an ambiguity in how we perceive and are perceived. Of course I hope that we don’t look like a town watch or a group of ambitious millennials on a realtor’s open house tour. That isn’t my intent.
  • When we walk in pairs or groups, there are no leaders and no followers. We aren’t afraid of dissonance and the possibility that we aren’t all on the same experiential track. Even walking in close proximity to each other, we leave room for not matching.

How do artists or citizens move through the landscapes, dynamic environments, and communities in which they make their work, especially when those communities and neighborhoods are rapidly gentrifying and changing? It is our job to turn over and over and over the ways that we are embodied within ourselves and our work but also in our physical and geographic location.

This experience INSIDE and OUTSIDE of Mascher has collaged itself into a solo that I have made called lasso belly. Many of the pictures are of me rehearsing that solo. The piece asks how process and studio time can transparently and unapologetically live in a finished work. The piece asks how I want to engage with an audience and how I want to frame my own solo body and the contexts in which I choose to put it in.

All photos by Miles Yeung.

See Christina’s solo at Fresh Juice, Mascher’s 10th Anniversary Cabaret, Nov 20 – 21, 2015, 155 Cecil B. Moore. Info here.

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